Chapter Four

For a terrible, endless moment, nobody moved. Lightning flickered outside, and the rain began pounding down again, drumming hard on the hangar roof.

Tin-Tin sank slowly to her knees beside Virgil's head, reaching out to him with shaking hands. "Virgil…oh, God, Virgil…"

On his feet again, Scott took a half step toward them, froze as the guttural voice of the man by the circle rang out. "Halt, or I will command them to shoot again."

Scott didn't take his eyes off Tin-Tin. "How bad is it?"

Her face was white. "It's a mess, Scott."

"Does he have a pulse?" Scott tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Is he breathing?"

Tin-Tin rallied with an effort, leaned forward to touch her fingers to Virgil's neck. She nodded up at Scott.

"Check the door," the Asian man ordered. One of the men who had appeared out of nowhere – Scott's mind still skittered away from the reality of that, even though he'd been looking right at them when it happened – moved around Scott and then Alan and tested the hangar door handle. Scott saw a shotgun in his hands and felt rage flare hard in his belly.

The man stopped as though he felt it, and for the first time Scott got a good look at his face. Shock washed cold through his veins.

The eyes had no irises or whites. They were completely black.

"Who are you people?" Alan demanded. He'd seen the same thing, and the feeling of being suddenly out of his depth was making him angry.

"They are not people, Alan. Not anymore." Tin-Tin's voice was quiet. "They are demons."

"Demons?" Alan's head snapped around to stare at her. "What are you talking about? There's no such thing."

The big Asian man boomed out a laugh. "What a sheltered existence you Tracys lead. There are more things in this world than you could ever dream of. Of course, you would not welcome those dreams."

Scott felt like he was struggling to right a rowboat in a hurricane. Years of training asserted themselves finally, insisting that he focus on what he could control and worry about the rest later. Virgil was first priority here.

He looked at their captor. "I'm going to him," he said, indicating Virgil. "You do what you like."

The Asian man, surprisingly, inclined his head. "It will only delay the inevitable…but if you must."

Scott skidded to his knees beside Tin-Tin, sucking in his breath when he saw the mess the shotgun blasts had made of Virgil's back. They had all gone through EMT training, plus learned a few techniques a battlefield medic would be proud of...all of which in this case meant he had a little too much knowledge. The fear rose in his throat, tried to choke him; he pushed it down ruthlessly. Starve the imagination, feed the will. He was no use to his brother like that.

He'd lost his survival gear somewhere in the struggle that had just happened. His eyes lighted on the medic bag on Tin-Tin's shoulder. How had she known...

Starve the imagination. "Tin-Tin, give me your pack. We have to get this bleeding stopped."

She was frozen, staring up at the big Asian man, her eyes pools of jade in a face drained of all color. It was rare that he'd seen her afraid of anything, and never this much; it unsettled him badly. He overrode it, took her by the shoulders. Kept his voice firm but encouraging. "Tin-Tin, come on. We have to help Virgil here."

She swallowed, coming back to herself a little. "Yes…of course…" Still sneaking glances at their captor, she pulled the bag off her shoulder, unzipped it and handed it over.

Scott tore open a package of quick-clotting sponges. Designed for battlefield use, they were coated with substances that induced clotting and retarded bacterial infection; they could stop bleeding extremely fast and that would go a long way toward saving Virgil's life. He glanced up briefly. "Alan, help Tin-Tin, I'm going to start a line."

Alan dropped to his knees beside him. "Scott…he's lost a lot of blood…do you think he'll…"

"He's going to be fine," Scott rapped out, even though he knew he didn't believe the words. From Alan's look, he didn't either, but he just bit his lip and helped Tin-Tin hold the sponges in place as she sealed them to Virgil's back with the pressure dressings.

The bleeding was already slowing dramatically. Scott forced himself to concentrate on assessing the damage just like he was on a normal rescue, just like it was a stranger he was treating. He gave silent thanks that by some miracle it seemed, although he couldn't be sure, that all the shotgun rounds had missed Virgil's spine. He'd been fortunate that he'd been far enough from the weapon's muzzle for the buckshot to have spread out sufficiently…if he'd taken the blast full force from close range he'd have been dead before he hit the floor.

Scott didn't want to think about that. He was painfully aware that if it hadn't been for his orders, Virgil would be sitting in Thunderbird Two right now, safe and unharmed. And what would be different? he asked himself. Would you rather Alan or Gordon had been shot instead? Or Tin-Tin?

He could feel Virgil's labored breathing under his hands as he got the line started. He couldn't stop fixating on how the blood spray clung in clots to his brother's thick chestnut hair.

IV fluids and dopamine. Spike the bag. Prime the line. Slip the cartridge into the mini pump. His hands were trembling. He railed at himself to get control – how many times had he done this in the normal course of the rescue business? A hundred? Five hundred?

How different it was when it was one of their own.

"How touching," the Asian man had moved closer now. "How hard you work for a life I could take away like this." He snapped his fingers.

Tin-Tin's voice hissed out in Malay. From Alan's raised eyebrows, Scott figured out that it wasn't a compliment.

The man laughed. "I knew it was you, Tin-Tin," he said, his voice seeming to fill the stillness of the hangar. "I felt it the moment you walked in. An unexpected bonus indeed."

"Tin-Tin," Alan said, "who is that man and how does he know who you are?"

"He's my uncle. His name is Belah Gaat."

She spat out the name as if it were poisonous. "That's your uncle?" Alan stared at their captor. "The one who tried to kill you and your father?"

She nodded. "He hunted us for years. Until your father helped us." Despite the deep hatred in her voice, her arms were wrapped protectively across her chest. All of a sudden it was easy for Scott to see beyond the sophisticated façade to the child she had once been, constantly on the run, living in fear.

"I don't understand," Alan was saying. "What is he doing here?"

"Building a trap. A trap for us."

"But how did he…?" Alan broke off. "Of course. Eduardo. What have you done with Eduardo?" he demanded of their captor.

Belah Gaat ignored him. He was watching Scott – Scott could feel the dark stare as if it was a tangible thing, boring into him, making his skin prickle uncomfortably. He refused to look up, keeping his attention on Virgil. He took the thermal blanket from the med pack to cover his brother and got the one from Alan's pack to fold and slide under Virgil's head.

It was a sobering thought that he had now done pretty much all he could do.

"If you are finished, Scott Tracy, we have business to discuss," Belah Gaat said.

Scott slowly sat back on his heels, hands covered in Virgil's blood. He wiped them with a piece of field dressing, unable to hide the anger that vibrated through his words. "You and me? You have got to be kidding."

Gaat didn't react at all to the tone of voice. For the first time Scott had a moment to assess the situation they were in, noticing how the black-eyed people Tin-Tin had called demons stood around the far side of the painted circle, eerily still, as if they were switched off somehow until called upon. They all wore dark green quasi-military coveralls. He thought about the Sig Sauer, wondered if the weapon would have any effect on them. If not, a show of aggression like that would do nothing but get them all killed. He would have to bide his time and wait for a better moment than this.

"You have something I want, and at this point it seems that I now have something you need," Gaat continued.

Virgil made a low moaning sound. Scott checked him quickly but he didn't seem to be regaining consciousness. "Tin-Tin," he said, "keep an eye on him, OK?"

She nodded. Scott noticed that she was trembling, although he couldn't tell if it was with anger or fear. Probably a combination of both. "Stay with me," he said to her in a low voice, as comfortingly as he could manage when everything seemed to be cutting loose from its moorings inside him. "We'll get out of this."

The look on her face made his blood run cold. "You don't understand," she whispered. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."

What had this man done to her and her father? What was he capable of?

He would need to watch his step here, if he was going to get them all out alive.

"Now, Tracy," Gaat snapped.

Reluctantly, he stood up. "Scott…" Alan said, unhappily.

Scott gave him a reassuring nod. Then he turned to face their captor. "OK," he said. "Let's have it. What do you want?"

Gaat smiled. The expression reminded Scott of a hungry wolf facing down its prey. "Surely that must be obvious," their captor said, turning slightly and looking back into the hangar.

Thunderbird One. Scott's eyes closed for a moment. "So what's stopping you?"

Gaat barked out a laugh. "Come now, you think I have not tried, in the time you've been gone? You have an entry code. I want it. In exchange, I will let you return to Thunderbird Two, and perhaps your brother will survive."

"Scott…no…"

Scott swung around. "Virgil!"

The words came out with great effort. "Don't…give it to him…"

Despite Tin-Tin's attempts to restrain him, Virgil had managed to push himself more or less up on to his side. He stared glassily up at Scott, his face an unhealthy shade of gray under his tan. Scott saw him try to reach out with one hand and dropped beside him quickly, supporting his brother's body as his strength gave out and he slumped back toward the concrete. "Virg, take it easy. Don't try to move. You've been shot."

"No…kidding." Virgil tried to laugh; it choked off in a coughing spasm. "How…bad…"

There was no easy way to say it. Scott took his brother's hand reassuringly. "Virg, can you feel your legs?"

He saw the fear flicker for a moment in his brother's eyes. "I…don't know. Cold…"

"You're going into shock. Stay with me, Virg." Scott struggled to keep the fear out of his voice. "Hold on for me."

Virgil's eyes drifted shut again but Scott felt the weak pressure against his hand. He closed his own eyes to hide the sudden burning.

"Give me the code, and your brother will have a chance to live."

Scott reluctantly released Virgil's hand. Alan moved in to support their brother and Scott stood up, facing their captor again. "Why should I believe you? You said earlier that taking care of him was only delaying the inevitable."

Gaat's brows drew together. "Do not bandy semantics with me, Tracy. I can end his life at any time. I can end all of your lives."

Scott glanced back at his crew…then at the sleek form of his Thunderbird. Forgive me, Dad, he thought. But I've got no choice.