Dark Universe Series: Prison Break.

Chapter 3.

Jeff opened the door to the refrigerator. It was depressingly empty. After several weeks on the island he was coming to the conclusion that there was only so long a man could live on tinned fruit and Bollinger. He was also running out of clean socks and underwear. He hadn't realised until now that this was possible, but then, he'd never lived more than a phone-call away from his outfitter before.

"We need a housekeeper," he muttered out loud to himself. Then, because it sounded like a plan, he said it again, a little louder. He wondered who he could persuade to come and look after him. The image of his mother popped briefly into his head. This troubled him.

Jeff emptied the contents of a can of grapefruit segments into a bowl and headed for his office. He shut the door firmly and reached into his drinks cooler for his morning beverage.

Ten minutes later the door opened. Jeff glanced up sharply. He was heartily sick of Brain's weird robot thing crashing in on him whenever it took its fancy. The young scientist seemed to have an endless series of strange projects that had nothing to do with any of Jeff's plans.

But no, his visitor was human. He hadn't realized any of his boys knew where he spent his days.

"Dad, I was wondering if I could have a word?"

"Come on in, son."

The young man eased into his father's office. "I was just wondering if you'd considered sea rescues? I mean, with my WASP experience, and all, it would seem to be an obvious area to branch out into."

"Well, sure…er…er…"

"Gordon, sir."

"Gordon. What will we need?"

"Well, some kind of submersible would be good."

"Great idea, son. That's what we want. Creativity. I'll get that Brains guy right on it." Jeff was coming to the conclusion that the more he kept the young wunderkind occupied the better. He hit the intercom that would connect him with Brains' lab.

"Brains? It's Jeff."

There was a curious spluttering noise at the other end.

Jeff frowned and leaned closer to the microphone. "Brains?"

There was another breathless gurgle.

Jeff shook his head. "I think I'd better go see what's going on down there. But you'll get your submersible, son. Money no object."

Jeff made his way down to the lab. The door didn't open as he approached, so Jeff looked around for the external lock and pressed his palm print to it. It read off automatically and unlocked the door for him.

The young scientist was lying on the floor, blue around the lips, gasping and pulling at his collar.

Jeff frowned. The air was pretty stale in here, he decided. "Are you okay?"

Brains made some strange strangulated noises and pointed to his throat. Jeff thought he'd perhaps best pull the young man out into the corridor where the air was fresher.

"There you go. Is that better?"

Brains half-nodded and gulped in air. "Y-y-your son…." he spluttered, "is a psychopath."

"I know," Jeff said easily. He felt quite pleased that for once he knew which one was the subject of discussion. "But you mustn't let that worry you. There are an awful lot of myths about psychopaths. It isn't true that they're all deranged killers. Some of them are quite nice people." What was it that that shrink had said? "They just think in a different way from the rest of us, that's all," he finished smoothly.

"Tell him there's nothing I-I-I can do about Thunderbird Three, but he can have his swimming pool launch," Brains muttered.

"Tell him yourself," Jeff said jovially. "Here he comes."

Brains cringed as Scott approached, dressed in maintenance overalls, and wielding a monkey wrench. He was whistling cheerfully to himself.

Jeff pulled the young engineer to his feet. "Now what did you want to say to my son?"

"I-I-I give u-u-up. Y-y-you can have your swimming-pool launch," Brains stammered, backing off steadily.

Scott was a little taken by surprise. "Why, thanks, Brains. I knew you'd see it my way in the end."

He set to work on the damaged locking mechanism. That had all gone a lot easier than he thought it would. It was amazing what a good night's sleep did to improve some people's disposition. Or maybe it was just that his people skills were improving.

…

Tonight Virgil had given up on the shot-gun. Instead, he sported a replica pistol. It was exceptionally convincing but fired nothing more harmful than blanks. He wasn't taking any risks this time.

He watched the lighted 'open' sign go out, and slid silently from his hiding-place in the bushes.

He pushed at the door. It stuck a bit, so when he entered it wasn't with quite the air of stealthy professionalism he'd been aiming for.

The store was rather gloomy. Righting himself, he squinted to see where the till was.

A voice called out through the gloom, "We're shut, honey!"

"That's what I was counting on," Virgil said in deep voice. He checked himself with a frown. What in hell was he trying to disguise his voice for?

He rounded a stack of special offer pretzels that were getting close to their shelf life.

"Oh my!" The young female shop assistant looked less shocked and horrified than she might have done by Virgil's waving around of the pistol. In fact, she looked rather impressed. "Is that a gun you've got there, mister?"

Virgil frowned, a little confused. "Well, yeah."

She hopped pertly up to sit on the counter and reached behind her.

"Have you got an alarm back there?" Virgil asked roughly, hoping she'd say yes.

"Hell, no. I was just switching off the security camera so we could have a little privacy."

"Privacy?" Virgil asked uncertainly. "What for? I've come to rob you."

"Rob away, big man. It isn't my money. It's Jethro's, and he's a piss-poor boss. You're welcome to his money. Here," she reached into the till, showing a lot of thigh as she leant back, "I'll help you."

Virgil stepped forward. Somehow he found himself standing right in front of her, and the next moment she was winding her long legs around him and her hands were rubbing themselves all over his chest. She really wasn't bad-looking.

"Look, I've just come for the money, Miss er, er,…"

"Daisy."

"Daisy. I don't think…"

"Hush, now," she pouted, putting a finger across his lips. She wound up the stocking slowly. "My, you're a fine lookin' man…"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small foil square. The invitation in her green eyes was plain to see. Virgil looked at her eyes and at the foil, and back again.

"Oh, what the hell," he muttered.

…