Sorry, sorry, sorry... I know I said I was back on track for uploading new chapters but real life got in the way. Again.
Thank you to everyone who responded to the last chapter. Whirlgirl, thanks for the reviews for this story and for 'Canvas Interruptus' - sorry I can't reply personally.
Chapter Eleven
Since it was early morning and far too soon for a scotch, Jeff had to be content with yet another coffee. He was tipping the pot as far as it would go in order to get every last drop, when Scott brought Parker back to the suite.
"Three - two," he smirked at Virgil, much to the bewilderment of the other men in the room.
Actually, even Virgil looked a little puzzled.
"Own goal," Scott told him. "Flora."
"Oh." Virgil considered this for a moment, partly because he was relieved to have a distraction and but mostly because it was a matter of honour. "I'll give you four - one, but that's it."
"When you boys have finished..." Jeff didn't look happy. "This gives us an even bigger problem. I was hoping that Virgil could fly Parker back to Tracy Island, but now, well, Scott, you'll have to do it."
"I will?"
"Tracy H'Island?"
Jeff decided to deal with Parker first. "Yes, Parker. I want you well away from any possibility of arrest. Anyway, if Brains is going to be able to find out what happened to you, he'll need to see you in person."
"H'I suppose so. But, Sir, h'aren't you worried h'I might do something bad h'again?"
"A little." Jeff had never believed in sugar-coating the truth. "But if you're watched at all times then the chances are minimal."
"But what h'if h'it's part of some plan? Get me out to Tracy Island so h'I can do something to harm h'International Rescue?"
"We've got no evidence this has anything to do with International Rescue," Jeff said. "I know they wanted me, but the fact that they took a substitute suggests it's all down to money. Maybe it's something to do with MI5, given that they took Penny, but I think International Rescue is safe."
"They'd hardly have ordered you to kill yourself if they wanted you to do something like that," Virgil agreed. "They couldn't have known I'd arrive just in time to save you. And why not take me at the Abbey if they knew about IR? Why kidnap the Archbishop of Canterbury and a Prince?"
"I'm not so sure," Scott said slowly. "I've been wondering about those people at the Dog and Duck. They seemed happy that Parker had done all that was needed once they got me. There was something about the way that woman looked at me..."
"You're just trying to up your strike rate," Virgil muttered, receiving yet another irritated glare from his father for his trouble before getting back to the matter in hand. "This can't be connected with IR," he insisted. "Parker would be too valuable to them if it was. And why not just wait for his next visit to Tracy Island before making their move?"
"But when would that be?" Scott asked. "Penny wasn't planning on visiting any time soon. And, no offence, Parker but if they've got Penny, they wouldn't necessarily need you."
There was silence for a moment as they reflected on this.
"Even so," Jeff finally said. "I want Parker out of the country. Tracy Island is the safest place for him and if it draws any enemies out, so much the better. We've got a better chance of dealing with them at home than here. Scott-"
"Dad, I want to stay here," Scott said, quietly but emphatically. "I want to be on hand, just in case there's anything I can do to help Penny - or Virg, now he's public enemy number one."
As Virgil pulled a face at his brother, Jeff considered his son's words. He had a personal stake in this himself - he hadn't enjoyed his stay in hospital and Lady Penelope had been his friend long before any of his boys had met her. She and Scott had seemed close at one stage and he'd even had hopes of something meaningful developing between the two of them, but that had fizzled out and now she was married to another man. Still, maybe Scott would be a better bet. He could slip under the radar of the authorities, something that might be useful if they had their eye on Virgil. After all, he wasn't even supposed to be in the country, so no suspicion could attach itself to him.
"We 'eard h'everything," Parker said, coming over to Virgil and leaving Scott and Jeff to talk it over. "So h'Eddie Garland's h'on the case, h'is 'e?"
"You know him?" Virgil asked.
H'I certainly do. 'Im and me go way back. H'I was 'is first collar. Nice little bank job h'in Chelsea. Six months in Pentonville h'I got for that one. We've run into h'each other h'a few times h'over the years. Last time was h'about h'eighteen months h'ago. 'Er Ladyship put 'im h'in 'is place h'alright when 'e tried to h'arrest me. 'Course, she couldn't tell 'im what we was really h'up to, but 'e wasn't 'appy h'about 'aving to let me go."
"International Rescue or MI5?" Virgil asked.
Parker just tapped his nose and smiled. But a moment later the smile was gone. "'E never believed h'I'd gone straight," he said. "H'a lot h'of people thought 'er ladyship was mad to take me h'on. H'after what's 'appened, maybe they was right."
"Don't be silly, Parker," Jeff said, having finally given in to Scott's demands and come back over to the other two. "We still believe in you. And we're going to find out exactly what's been going on. Scott, is Thunderbird One fit to fly?"
"No. You're going to have to go all the way home in the jet."
Jeff frowned. "That'll take all day. Right, no time to waste. Scott, find a car and get Parker to that old airfield we use for the 'birds. I'll meet you there for the pick-up. Virgil, stay here and try not to get into any more trouble."
He left an indignant middle son and went to his room to pack.
"So, Parker," Scott said, keen to try to get something useful out of the man now that he was alert again. "Tell me every place you've been and everyone you've spoken to over the past couple of weeks."
Parker stared at him.
"We might pick up some clues," Virgil told him. "But we can probably narrow it down a bit. Start with any strangers you've come into contact recently."
"Well, with that wedding, there's been h'an h'awful lot of 'em," Parker said doubtfully.
"Still, it's worth a shot," Scott said. "Come on."
Parker thought for a while then began to list the many, many people Lady Penelope had brought in to help organise her ill-fated wedding. From choristers to dove handlers, it took a long time.
"Could be anyone," Scott said, when Parker had finally finished. "And there doesn't seem to be any period of time you can't account for, either."
"Unless they made you forget," Virgil said. It's kinda scary, don't you think?"
"Sure is," Scott agreed.
Parker was quiet, moving to look out of the window. The snow had turned to rain and the roads were clearing.
"H'I wonder what's 'appening to 'er ladyship," he murmured, gazing out into the distance.
The answer right now was: nothing, the captives still waiting for Sebastian Swayne to make his next move.
Ken Mantle's frequent complaints were getting on everyone's nerves. He hadn't endeared himself to anyone the previous evening after Swayne had signed off, increasingly loud and persistent in his demands for information about the man's identity, a rather counter-productive move as no one else could get a word in or make themselves heard over his shouting. The Archbishop had tried to speak, and Prince Louis had put in a plea for calm, too, citing the man's ever-reddening face and heavy breathing as good reason for a little more decorum. It hadn't worked.
Irving Ross had given up, leaving the others to argue and coming over to sit beside Simon and Penny who had long since abandoned any attempts to have a civilised discussion with the businessman.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
Simon tightened his hold around his wife's shoulders. "We're holding up," he replied. "Aren't we, sweetheart?"
"Yes. Yes, we are," Penny told him, shifting closer to him.
"So tell me, who exactly is this Sebastian Swayne?" Simon asked. "I couldn't make much sense of anything Alastair was trying to say. But you know him, Irving, don't you?"
"You've never heard of him then?" Ross asked.
"Hardly. What would I have to do with MI5?"
"You don't have to work for the security services to have heard of Mr Swayne. Man of mystery? Star of stage and television? Internet sensation?"
Simon thought for a moment then shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I'm none the wiser."
"He's a hypnotist," Irving told him. "And an illusionist. He was on the verge of becoming very well-known a few years ago. Thought rather a lot of himself, though. Not a particularly nice man."
"I worked that one out myself," Simon informed him. "But that doesn't explain how you two know each other."
Irving allowed himself a small smile. "The man's arrogance was such that he approached MI5 with the offer of allowing us to utilise his skills. Ridiculous, of course, but the chief at the time was willing to listen. I was sent to talk to him - he was using his stage voice just now, which is why I didn't recognise him at first. He's not so ridiculously over the top in real life. An interesting man, though. I have to say, he was remarkably persuasive. I'm ashamed to say he almost had me convinced. A superb illusionist, but that's all it was, of course. An illusion. Even so, he might have been useful to us, but he was discredited before we could take things any further and then he disappeared."
"What happened?" Prince Louis had come over to join them, along with the Archbishop, Mantle having decided it was time to get some sleep.
"Ah, well, as I said, he was on the verge not only of stardom but a potential career with MI5, when a young journalist exposed him as a fake. Destroyed his reputation. He never recovered from the shame of it. It didn't help of course that Alastair here," he indicated the Archbishop, "had just written a rather strong article in the Times denouncing those who claimed to be practising the dark arts. The exposure of Mr Swayne added extra force to his arguments."
"All nonsense," the Archbishop said cheerfully. "The man protested, of course. I remember him turning up at one of my services, drunk and ranting. Naturally the press turned on him and any hope he had of getting back in the public's favour was lost."
"So we've been kidnapped by a fake mystic?" Prince Louis said. "Not quite what I expected."
"I suppose he was a fake," Penny said slowly.
"Of course he was," the Archbishop responded. "There's nothing supernatural about knock-out gas and kidnapping. A clever plot, yes. Fiendishly so. But it's all easily explained, like everything else he did."
"Is it? I'll accept that the illusions were probably just that, but you said he was a hypnotist."
It was Simon who answered. "Penelope, darling, I know how upset you are about your Parker, but surely you can't be entertaining the possibility that he was acting under the control of this Swayne person? It's impossible."
"But is it?" Penny asked. "I don't believe in that sort of thing either. But I never believed Parker would betray me. And if you ask me which I think is more likely, then I have to say it's that Parker is under some kind of mind control." She turned to the head of MI5. "Irving, you know how the world's intelligence agencies are doing their utmost to come up with something of that nature. That's why Mr Swayne's suggestion was taken seriously in the first place. Maybe it is possible. It has to be."
In the face of her passionate outburst, Irving Ross was silent. Simon however just hugged her closer and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"Penelope, how do you know what the world's intelligence agencies are up to?"
Penelope lost her legendary composure for a moment. Should she finally confess all to Simon? She wanted to, that was for sure. He deserved to know why he found himself in this situation, especially if this had something to do with her involvement with MI5 - after all, why else would they take an innocent bride? The men holding them hostage had made no attempt to hide their faces - indeed, Sebastian Swayne had taken great delight in revealing his identity. There was a strong chance that they'd never get the chance to tell their story, and if Simon was going to die, he should at least know why.
But to do it here, in front of the others? Oh, the Archbishop and Prince Louis would be tactful enough, albeit somewhat surprised, but Mantle? Penny could only imagine his reaction. Exhausted and almost on the verge of tears after all the stress of the wedding and its unexpected aftermath, not to mention the inexplicable behaviour of one of her closest friends, she couldn't face the vitriol which was bound to come her way, let alone Simon's reaction to the news.
"Well, it stands to reason," she said finally. "I mean, I'm only guessing, but I'm sure Irving would agree."
"Certainly." Ross was quick on the uptake and he reached out to pat Penny's shoulder, certain that the patronising gesture would mislead Simon. "It's a fair point, Penelope, though you'll understand that I can't discuss matters of national security with outsiders."
Penny smiled. "Of course not, Irving. We understand. Don't we, darling?"
Simon nodded curtly. He'd never been quite sure how his wife had become friendly with Irving Ross, and now he cursed the man for dragging them into whatever this situation actually was. He was willing to admit there was something in the idea of hypnosis - it had worked for his father when he'd been struggling to stop smoking - but total mind control? Impossible! To him, the most likely scenario was that Parker, a man he'd never entirely trusted once he'd learned of his criminal past, had been bought. Still, now wasn't the time to upset Penelope any further.
"Sebastian Swayne swore it was possible to control a man's actions, if not his thoughts," Irving Ross told them. "But he wasn't able to give a conclusive demonstration. "
"Well of course not," the Archbishop said. "The man's a fake."
"So what is all this?" Simon asked. "Revenge? A publicity stunt?"
"Maybe. But since he'll be arrested the moment he makes his actions known, I can't help but think it's not that simple." Irving Ross voiced what they were all thinking.
"But if he can put people under his control..." Penelope couldn't finish.
"He can't!" Four men spoke in unison.
Penny ignored them. "But look what he did to Parker. Please, just think about it seriously for a moment. If he can do what he claims, then he's got the head of MI5, the head of the church, and an influential royal at his disposal."
Simon laughed. "Oh, come on."
"He'll have all the power and influence a man could want," Penny said.
"But there were cabinet ministers at the wedding," Simon protested. "Why not take them? They're the ones with the real power."
It was the Archbishop who responded, his expression making it clear that he was only humouring Penny. "Waste of time. There's an election next month, remember? The polls aren't exactly good news for the government. They don't stand a chance of re-election. No, there'd be no point in taking any of them. Of course, if you and Penelope had invited any members of the Shadow Cabinet..." The man permitted himself a small smile.
But now wasn't the time to discuss politics and Simon had other things on his mind.
"Okay, well whatever the reasons behind all this, I can see why he'd want you and Irving. Mantle too, I suppose, for financial gain, and maybe you, Louis. But why take Penelope? Or me? We don't have the power and influence of the rest of you. Neither of us are worth a fraction of Mantle's fortune, either."
Penny and Irving Ross exchanged a swift and furtive glance before Ross shrugged. "Who knows? But our host will surely enlighten us. After all, he was quick enough to tell us all about himself earlier on."
They could only hope that answers would come sooner rather than later, but there was no further communication from Sebastian Swayne and finally, having run out of ideas and energy, they'd settled down for the night, making themselves as comfortable as they could on the chairs and sofas provided for them.
At one point the door had opened and two men had appeared, one with a gun, which he used to keep everyone at bay whilst the other carried in a box which turned out to contain sandwiches and bottles of water. Ken Mantle had complained bitterly at these basic rations, but that hadn't stopped him eating his own share plus half of Penny's. As hungry as the woman had been, a couple of bites of dry cheese sandwich had almost choked her and she'd soon pushed it aside.
Simon had done his best to comfort her, eventually putting an arm around her and pulling her close as they huddled under his coat for warmth. Penny was glad of his presence, even if this hadn't been the way she'd planned on spending her wedding night. The man was quiet, probably thinking the same thing.
The first full day of their captivity dragged on and on. As Jeff Tracy was checking out of the Ritz and Scott was sneaking out of the side door to pick up Rosie's car in order to get Parker safely away, the captives sat in silence for the most part, waiting and wondering.
By tea time - not that there was any tea, nor the cucumber sandwiches and dainty cakes she usually enjoyed at that time of day - Penny had become so frustrated by the way her dress restricted her movements that she'd begged the others to help her make it more manageable. Prince Louis had obliged, tearing into the lace until she stood only in her underskirt. Not that she cared at this point, but she knew she looked a mess. Still, at least she didn't knock any more chairs over as she moved around, and being able to wrap the long train around her shoulders helped make her a little warmer.
When the door finally opened later that evening, they expected - hoped for - food. They got it, but then the man with the gun motioned to the Archbishop.
"Mr Swayne wants to see you."
With a clearly forced smile at the others, the man got to his feet and obediently followed his captors. The door closed and the others looked bemusedly at each other for a moment. Then Mantle got up and went to the supplies they'd been given.
"Only enough for the five of us," he said. "Either they're feeding Alastair somewhere else, or he's not going to need food."
That comment didn't cheer anyone up.
"Please, take a seat." Sebastian Swayne, resplendent in scarlet smoking jacket and white silk cravat, waved airily at an armchair that sat across from his. Alastair was struck by the absurdity of the situation as he took a seat in the floral-covered chair - more to get the benefit of the warmth of the log fire that blazed cheerily, than out of any social nicety.
"Coffee? Or something stronger? I imagine you could do with a drink."
"Coffee will be fine. Thank you."
Swayne called for Quinn and put in an order for coffee - with biscuits, of course. Alastair could barely hold back a sarcastic response. He really did have the most uncharitable thoughts towards his captor, he thought. Still, it was understandable under the circumstances.
"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," Swayne said. "I have to say, it's been interesting listening to all your theories about my little scheme. Rather distressing, too, I have to say. It's never pleasant to hear anything bad about yourself. Mr Ross was particularly cruel. As were you, Your Grace, in the article you wrote. Even after all these years it still hurts to think about it."
"If you're looking for an apology..."
Swayne laughed. "That's not what I want from you."
"So what is it? Money, I suppose."
"No, actually. I'm sure the Church has enormous wealth at its disposal, but I assure you that there's nothing so crude at stake where you're concerned."
"What then?" Alastair tried to hide his misgivings. This man might be something of a pantomime villain, but there was a cruelty in his eyes that made a mockery of the exaggerated politeness of his tone.
"Well, on a personal level, I've been waiting several years now for the chance to talk to you about your stance on magic and mysticism-"
"Rubbish, the lot of it!"
Swayne just smiled. "Is it? Is it really?"
"You might have convinced Lady Penelope that you had her man under some kind of hypnotic control, but I have to say I think the whole thing's a load of nonsense."
"Indeed. As you stated at great length after my..."
"After you were exposed as a fake."
Swayne looked pained. "You really don't understand. I'm no fake. I never was. Admittedly, my powers back then were just a fraction of what they are now, but I promise you, everything I said and did was real. Well, almost everything."
"You were well and truly caught out at that show in Manchester," Alastair reminded him. Swayne had the grace to redden, but it soon became clear that his heightened colour was due more to anger than embarrassment. "Schoolboy error, Mr Swayne. Invite a hungry young journalist to interview you and then allow him to overhear you discussing all the ways you could con your audience."
"It was unfortunate," Swayne agreed. "Ironic, too. The one night I give in to the temptation to do things the easy way, and that nasty little man has to go and expose me."
The Archbishop laughed. "So every other performance was genuine? Pull the other one."
"They were!" Swayne insisted. "But it takes it out of a man, all that mental effort. I was exhausted. The migraines I'd been having all through the tour were getting worse, and that night I just couldn't face it. I was afraid I'd embarrass myself by passing out on stage. So I got my assistants to mingle with the audience before the show. They overheard several useful bits of information and passed them on. It was easy to pretend I could read minds and contact the dead. Unfortunately, that journalist heard everything when we discussed what I could use."
"Of course," Alastair said, taking a sip of his coffee, thankful that he was finally starting to warm up. "Just unfortunate, really."
"Indeed. But it ruined me. My fans turned against me, no TV station would touch me. I couldn't bear the humiliation so I sold up and left the country. Travelled the world."
"Have a good time?"
"Wonderful." Swayne smiled slyly. "Did me the world of good and after a while I came up with a new plan. I knew I needed to develop my abilities if I was to regain my reputation - or at least, get my revenge on those who destroyed me. In fact, that journalist - and you - did me a favour. I came to realise that I'd have burnt myself out if I'd carried on as I was. So I sought out others with my powers, learnt from the best. Oh, you may laugh, but there are several men out there who have the same abilities that I do, men who have spent a lifetime honing them. One in particular taught me a great deal. Sinister little man, curious yellow eyes..."
"You really expect me to believe all this?"
"Of course not. But whether you believe it or not doesn't change the fact that it's true."
"Prove it."
"I already have."
"Lady Penelope's chauffeur?"
"Amongst others."
Swayne poured himself a glass of port. "That journalist's dead by the way," he announced, the bluntness of the statement all the more chilling for the casual way in which it was delivered.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Six months ago. Poor man. Quite the mystery, too. He was driving along and suddenly veered off the road and into a tree. Eye-witnesses said he didn't even attempt to take the corner, that he actually seemed to put his foot down as he approached it." He grinned at Alastair. "One of my most successful endeavours, I'm sure you'll agree. But no more than the man deserved."
"So this is what you've got in mind for me?" Alastair asked. "You're going to programme me to kill myself because I ruined your career?"
"You think too highly of yourself Your Grace," Swayne told him. "Isn't vanity a sin? No, I admit I'm very happy to be able to justify myself to you, but that's just a tiny, insignificant part of the plan. You'll be pleased to know that I have no plans for your death. Actually, I'm going to set you free."
"What? Just like that? When I know who you are? How long do you think you'll evade capture?"
Swayne smiled and his eyes seemed to grow darker even as they glittered more intensely.
"Ah, but you won't remember me, you see. Now then, Your Grace, you must be feeling tired. Why don't you settle back in the chair?"
Alastair couldn't fight the sudden heaviness that seeped into his entire body. He did as Swayne asked without protest. He knew he should be worrying, but all of a sudden that didn't seem important.
"That's it. Let me take your cup. Good. Now then, let me explain exactly what I want from you..."