War Council

Two hours later, four official Tracys and two honorary ones-plus the holographic image of John, floating over the coffee table-gathered in the sunken living room, uniforms exchanged for civvies.

"Okay, John," Scott prompted. "We're all here. Give us what you've got."

"At eighteen hundred hours," began John, "two armed assailants gained access to Tracy Island. We believe that they were intending to kidnap Brains."

Kayo, seated on the edge of the lounge with her feet dangling above the shag carpet, raised an eyebrow. "Except they didn't count on Grandma."

"Right," John continued. "Brains entered the kitchen just as Grandma was confronting the intruders, and it appears that Grandma inflicted a fatal injury on one assailant using her cast iron skillet."

Alan's sky-blue eyes went as round as dinner plates. "Grandma killed someone? In our kitchen?" He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I'm never walking barefoot through the kitchen again."

While Gordon and Alan were still en route to the island, Scott and Virgil had removed the body to the underground morgue, and Brains had enlisted the help of MAX to clean and sanitize the kitchen. In fact, the spindly robot was spraying bleach-scented steam on the floor as they spoke, so nothing remained of the gore-soaked scene that had greeted Virgil's arrival. Before removing his gloves, Scott himself had locked the murder weapon in the family vault for safekeeping.

"It was self d-defense," Brains replied. "Well, m-mostly," he added sadly.

Despite the dire circumstances, Kayo couldn't help a small smile. "Grandma's a tough lady." Her smile faded as a shadow of worry crossed her face. "Do we know anything about the man who took her?"

"The wetsuits they were wearing were a common brand," Gordon explained, sending info from his tablet to the others around the room with a flick of his fingers. "Nothing remarkable about them." He shrugged. "Maybe these two were just the muscle for someone else."

John's ghostly form shimmered above their heads. "I've determined that they were able to land on the island through this gap." He pulled up a 3-D projection of the island and zeroed in on a space through the underwater fence no wider than five feet. "There was a research craft docked about six miles from the island, and I'm pretty sure they used a submersible with a research signature to get through."

Alan shuddered. "Those research subs aren't very big-right?" He glanced over at Gordon, who was studying the map intently. The pilot of TB4 was frowning at the tiny gap outlined in red, his amber irises darkened to smoky quartz.

"No, just big enough for a scientist and an engineer. Some are even smaller." Gordon sighed. "Anyone remember if Grandma is claustrophobic?"

Virgil shook his head. "I don't think so-at least, she's never mentioned it to me." He glanced around the room for any sign of confirmation, but was met with nothing but shrugs. "John, is that research craft still out there?"

"Negative," came the reply. "They must have hightailed it out of there and had the submersible rendezvous with them somewhere else."

Alan looked up at Scott, worry written on his young face. "So...what do we do now?"

"We wait." The eldest Tracy's eyes were inky pools of storm above his knotted jaw. "They'll be calling us."

"What do you think they want?" Gordon ventured. "Money?"

Virgil scowled. "Probably."

"I don't care about that," Alan spoke up. "This is Grandma. If we lose her…" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Scott, who had been pacing up and down near his load chute, slammed a fist against the paneling. "We're not going to lose her. And no one is getting any of Dad's money." He pointed at John. "Get a fix on who that boat belonged to, and where they went."

"F.A.B.," John replied, and his image winked out.

Scott leaned over the console and keyed a familiar frequency. "This is Tracy Island, calling Colonel Casey of the GDF," he said. "Do you read, Colonel?"

Col. Casey's sharp face and tight chignon flickered into view. "This is Col. Casey. We read you, Tracy Island. What's the trouble?"

Scott glanced at his troops, then back at the holographic image before him. "We have a situation."