Kidnap Chapter 8

The NEXT DAY

Scott deliberately avoided the television and his brothers kept it off in deference to him. To Virgil, his brother seemed quieter and moodier. Although Scott had previously shared his frustrations and fears, since his conference with Father, seemed to have clammed up.

"Whatcha doin'?" Virgil asked as he noticed Scott standing at the balcony, watching the ocean.

"Nothing much. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. How about you? It's been pretty quiet lately, hasn't it?" Scott replied, never taking his eyes off the waves.

"No rescues, if that's what you mean," Virgil said, taking up a position next to his brother. "It's nice to have a break every now and then." Virgil waited out the silence, then decided Scott wasn't going to bring it up. "You worried about what the news is saying?"

"That and a few other things," Scott said, absently. "Virg, we agreed that International Rescue was worth giving up some things for, but we never agreed to live like monks."

"What?" asked Virgil. "Where did that come from?"

"When's the last time anybody but Alan dated? I mean, really got serious about someone?"

"Well, um…I dunno…it's been a while I suppose," Virgil said thoughtfully. "It's kind of hard to get close to anyone when half of what you tell them is a lie." Virgil eyed his brother closely. "This is about more than your hand, isn't it?"

"Once the news media gets done with me, I might never be of use to International Rescue again," Scott said. "Between having my face plastered all over the tabloids and losing a hand, I may be looking at alternate careers. I'm just thinking about our lives and how mine might change."

"What? Retire from International Rescue?" Virgil grinned. "And lose all this? Checking your shoes in the morning for chocolate pudding? Getting up at 3 in the morning after a hard rescue to go out again and be polite to a dozen hysterical officials at a new danger zone? Perish the thought." Virgil snorted. "At least the photos they're showing of you are about a hundred years old and don't look like you anymore."

"Boys, it looks like John's come through," Jeff appeared behind them on the balcony. "He's put together quite a dossier on Agent Davis. Come have a look. I think we should have our own meeting with him."

San Francisco FBI Office

Two Days Later

Agent Davis led the Tracy's into a wood paneled conference room and invited them to sit down. Jeff carried a disk with the substance of the background check in his pocket and seemed confident about the meeting. Scott wasn't as sure. The background check had shown that Davis, a law graduate from Berkeley had formerly practiced law before joining the FBI. He was known to be a hard worker an honest man who was well-respected by his peers. Scott mused, that honesty and diligence could get me prosecuted if he thinks that the evidence supports Slater and his cronies.

Davis pulled up a chair and smiled pleasantly at both men. "I understand that you'd like to discuss Scott's case with me?"

"Yes," said Jeff Tracy. "I understand from my son that you came to see him in the hospital, shortly after he regained consciousness, and grilled him about the kidnapping."

"Well, I did talk to him briefly," said Davis. "Do you have some concern?"

Jeff looked Davis straight in the eye. "We have been following the news and understand that some question has been raised as to whether Scott was himself a planner of his own kidnapping. The only reason I don't have a panel of lawyers with me today is that I have always valued the personal touch and would rather discuss this issue with you privately first. What is your assessment of Scott's involvement?"

Davis sighed. "Mr. Tracy, Scott, this isn't an easy case. You are a wealthy and powerful man and Scott is your son, also affluent. He also is unemployed and lives in the family mansion along with your other unmarried sons. To the public's eye, you appear to be a repressive, controlling father, keeping your sons under your thumb. No, wait," he said when Scott began to get up. "I said, that's the public's perception. Do you remember the case of Patricia Hearst, about a hundred years ago?"

"I read about her a long time ago," said Scott. "She was a terrorist, wasn't she?"

"Not quite," said Davis. "Like you, she was kidnapped and because she came from a wealthy family, was castigated by the press when she began to sympathize with her captors—Stockholm Syndrome. Now that isn't an issue for you, Scott, but there is public resentment at the perception of your 'jet-set' lifestyle. The District Attorney is being pressured to file charges against you and it's being led by the tabloid frenzy that surrounds this case." Davis' expression hardened. "I had my doubts until I got a look at your medical records. When you were in the emergency room, they took extensive chest and abdominal x-rays as well as some of your forearm and hand. They all showed evidence of multiple, old fractures of various bones and other evidence of prior trauma. Scott, there is nothing in your background to explain this except for pervasive physical abuse suffered as a child."

Ignoring the shocked expressions on the Tracy's faces, Davis continued. "The present limited life you lead could cause some resentment in a 30 year-old man, but add the evidence of your x-rays into the mix and I have a probable motive for your actions against your father. I haven't submitted my report yet because I did want to discuss this with you," Davis added at Scott's silence. "I personally don't think a jury would blame you for your actions, and you've certainly suffered for it. If you decide to plead guilty, I'm sure that the DA's office might consider a deal."

Scott shook his head and leaned across the table. "I don't know where you got your ideas from, but I have never been abused by my father! If I choose to live at home until I'm a hundred, it's nobody's business but my own!" His good hand curled into a fist. "How dare you say that I had anything to do with Slater and his plots!"

"Scott! Son, please control yourself," Jeff said softly. "Davis, you do understand that there is no physical evidence against my son. He'll have the best lawyers representing him and I have no doubt that he'll be found not guilty."

Davis smiled sadly. "Y'know, I really do empathize with Scott. It's hard enough to separate yourself from your parents without a strong-willed father over-protecting you. Yes, your lawyers can drag this thing out for many years and Scott will probably be found not-guilty. But at what cost? What reputation will he have left? What kind of life? Go back to your island and spend his days as a playboy whose name is always linked with scandal?"

"Father, this is impossible," declared Scott. "I'm not guilty of anything and if you want lawyers, you'll get them!"

Without taking his eyes from Davis, Jeff said, "Davis, if I could completely disprove Slater's assertions and show you that Scott has no reason to resent me, would you recommend to the District Attorney that charges against my son are not warranted? And make it stick?"

Scott's eyes widened. "Dad, you can't! Not for me."

Jeff turned to his son. "All the information I have tells me that Agent Davis is an honest man. I don't think we have a choice. And you're worth saving, son."

Davis watched the interplay between father and son with interest. "Mr. Tracy, if you can show me that Scott is unlikely to ever have conspired with Slater, then you'll have my backing and my gratitude. I don't want to prosecute anyone who doesn't deserve it."

Jeff took the tape and slipped it into the overhead reader and the screen on the wall lit up. It showed an overhead shot of the Golden Gate bridge, crumpled in the waters of San Francisco bay. "This is footage from the second San Francisco earthquake, five years ago."

"Yes, I've seen similar footage," Davis said without interest. "I haven't seen this particular shot, though."

"No, you wouldn't have," said Jeff. "International Rescue doesn't allow photography of its rescues, but that doesn't mean we don't film for our own training purposes." In the film, a pair of huge grips lowered and reached into the water, attaching to a small red car and slowly lifting it out of the water. "Do you recognize the car, Agent Davis?"

Davis had stilled at the mention of International Rescue and sat, his eyes glued to the screen. "That's my wife's car…she and my baby daughter were on the Bridge when the quake hit. They dropped into the water when the bridge went and water was pouring in…when…" The film showed the car being deposited on dry land and a figure in International Rescue blue with a blue sash ran to it and opened the door. A dark haired man pulled a baby out of a car-seat and began giving her CPR while the woman cried hysterically nearby as paramedics draped blankets around her."

Davis turned his gaze to Jeff and Scott Tracy. "You!" he said to Scott in amazement. "You saved my daughter. She's almost six years old, now. My wife still refuses to drive across the Golden Gate bridge, even though it's been rebuilt. If you hadn't been there…the authorities were overwhelmed after the quake and if you hadn't been there everyone on the Bridge would have died that day…."

The film stopped. "I guess you know now what my profession is," Scott said softly. "All that old trauma you saw on the x-rays—it isn't exactly a safe job. But the health plan is pretty good," he grinned at his father.

"We hope that you can keep this a secret," Jeff said, tucking the tape back into his pocket. "We believe you to be an honest man and hope you will understand that if International Rescue is to continue to exist, our current field commander," he nodded toward Scott. "needs to be available to fill his role."

Davis gulped and closed his folder. "Well, you've certainly answered my concerns. Pretty definitively. I'll discuss it with the District Attorney. I know him well and the idea of charging Scott filled him with as much distaste as it did me. I don't think there will be a problem. Scott will still be needed as a witness, though."

"I don't have a problem with that," said Scott. "Just please keep our secret so that we can help others, like your wife and daughter."

Davis nodded vigorously and leaned to shake their hands. "I owe you more than I can say. I understand now."

LATER

While Jeff piloted the Tracy One home, Scott was thoughtful. "Dad, I know why you did it, but you really shouldn't have."

"Scott, secrecy is important, even vital for International Rescue," Jeff said. "But in the end, nothing is more important than the people who make up the organization. I am not prepared to throw you to the wolves to ensure International Rescue's safety."

Scott looked sadly at his left hand. "Even if I'm not a member any more?"

"You're more than a pilot, son. You have years worth of experience that is irreplaceable. It's your brain and your judgment, not your hand that is needed by International Rescue. Your brothers have followed you to Hell and back and will continue to do so because they trust you. As do I."

Scott looked out the window and blinked the tears back. "Okay, Dad. Let's go home.