Part Thirteen
It was still dark outside when a hand on his arm woke Virgil Tracy. He cried out, scrambling backwards in his bed, before recognising the familiar shapes of Dr Evans and Inspector Travis. Heart in his mouth, he turned to the latter.
"Have you found them?" he asked in an urgent whisper, the dim light from the nurse's station and a restless murmur from one of the girls at the far end of the room encouraging him to keep his voice down.
Travis sighed, the anticipation on his face fading into regret.
"No, Virgil. I'm sorry."
Heart sinking back, through his chest and down to his feet, Virgil sat up in his bed and watched as Dr Evans pulled his tracksuit, T-shirt and trainers from the cupboard. They weren't really his, of course, just something the hospital had given him to wear until he was feeling better, but even so Virgil couldn't help frowning. It was wrong for anyone but Mom to be laying out his clothes. Swallowing down his sense of wrongness, he slipped them on obediently, reluctantly accepting Dr Evans' help to get the T-shirt and sweatshirt on over his aching ribs.
"Is it Dad, Inspector Travis?" he asked, worried and alarmed, as Travis brought a wheelchair to the side of his bed and Dr Evans helped him down.
"Your dad's fine, Virgil," the Inspector assured him, pushing him gently out of the ward and into the brightly lit corridor. Virgil blinked in the light, twisting awkwardly in the chair so he could see the detective. Travis' voice returned to a more normal level. "He was awake a little earlier this morning, so I asked if I could take you out on a little field trip."
"Against my better judgement," Dr Evans added, more to Travis than to Virgil. "You're not to get him overtired. Virgil, I want you to stay sitting down, okay? And if you get tired, you tell Inspector Travis and he'll bring you straight back."
"I'll bring him back straight away, anyway, Mina," Travis chuckled, looking at Virgil and rolling his eyes in the way his Dad did sometimes which Scott had told him had something to do with confidences shared between men. The thought brought with it an image of his brother laughing, so vivid that Virgil could almost hear the sound. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to cling to the memory as it slipped away. Travis squatted down beside him, asking if he was okay and giving him a concerned frown. Virgil ignored the look, too tired to process any of this, and not sure he cared. He wanted to go back to bed already. He just wanted to sleep and pretend none of it was happening. He slumped in the chair, resigned to this expedition because his Dad had approved it, not because he had any desire to go.
The cool dawn air startled him and he looked up, surprised to realise that he wasn't just being wheeled around the hospital, but actually taken outside it. A battered car waited at the curb, so perfectly suited to Travis that he glanced back at the inspector before realising what he was doing, unsurprised to see the key in his hand. The two grown-ups stopped the wheelchair beside the door and Virgil tried to suppress the wince as he stood. The cold had tightened the muscles around his rib-cage, and it hurt even to move, let alone stand and sit. He kept quiet though as he shifted obediently from the wheelchair into the passenger's side of Inspector Travis' car, huddling against the chill in the metal frame. Mina Evans eyed him critically, squatting down to see him better in the first hint of dawn and the faint yellow glow of the car's internal light.
"You're shivering!" Mina scolded, her words for helpless Virgil but her eyes on Travis. Tutting, she pulled a blanket from the basket under the chair and tucked it around Virgil while the detective slipped into the seat beside him and turned up the heater on the dashboard.
"I'll have him back in no time," Travis promised again. "Right, Virgil?"
Miserable, but determined not to let his dad down, Virgil gave a short nod. The two grown-ups exchanged a look over his head but he ignored them, trying not to wince as Dr Evans leaned around him to pass Travis the seatbelt, wadding the blanket between the restraint and his aching ribs.
"This won't take long, Virgil," Travis repeated as he put the car into gear and drove out of the hospital grounds. The jovial and anticipatory tone had gone from his voice, replaced by a softer, more concerned note. "Have you been to Dominga before?"
Virgil gave a small sigh, unable to ignore the direct question. "We were coming here last," he said softly. He and Scott and his dad and Gordon should have been doing this together. He kept his eyes in his lap and didn't look out of the windows as Travis began to point out some of the local sights. It felt wrong to be seeing them without his brothers by his side. The inspector didn't seem perturbed. He kept talking regardless, glancing down occasionally at his young passenger.
Virgil held his breath as Travis mentioned the harbour, scared for a moment that Travis was taking him to see a boat of some kind. He didn't think he was ready for that yet. The inspector shot him a worried look, taking in his stillness and pallor. There was a long silence after that, Travis driving him out of town and along a wide, straight road evidently designed to take heavy traffic. The sun was rising, casting a pale light across the island and showing ever more detail. Despite himself, Virgil couldn't help straightening a little, looking through the dusty side window as they travelled along a seemingly never-ending wire fence. He was sitting straight in his seat as they swung onto an access road and past a sign proclaiming Dominga's International Airport. He turned sharply in his seat, wincing, when Travis didn't pull up in front of the terminal but rather onto a private access road ending in a guarded gate.
"You can't drive onto an airfield," he asserted confidently, appalled that the inspector would think otherwise. "Not a big airfield like this. A little one like back home, maybe. But this is an airport!"
Travis grinned at him. "You can if you're driving someone really important."
Virgil frowned at him, confused and twisting to look in the back seat. He turned back to the front, rubbing his side, only to find Travis chuckling.
"Sit still, Virgil, and I'll take you right where we're going."
They pulled up on a tarmac apron to one side of the main terminal and runway. Little hangars, barely big enough for a 'plane like Dad's hard-earned pride and joy were scattered around it, and Travis parked neatly beside two other vehicles, one a police car, the other unmarked like his.
Virgil huddled back in his seat as two unfamiliar men came to the windows. One was about the same age as Dad and Travis, the other was fatter and older. Both peered into the car, directly at him, and Virgil flinched when Travis triggered the windows, letting them lean in on a gust of cold air.
"Toasty in there," the younger one commented with a grin at Virgil, speaking almost directly over his head
"And this must be the famous Virgil," the older man added, leaning forward a little to see past Travis.
"Don't worry," Travis rolled his eyes at Virgil, giving the two men a brief glare and winding the windows part way closed again, forcing them back. "They're not as scary as they look." He gestured at the younger man, who was indeed backing up a little, much to Virgil's relief. "This is Mike, who works with me. And this," the other, "is my boss, Chief Inspector Coates."
"Pleased to meet you." The words rolled automatically off Virgil's tongue and he hesitated, looking up at Mike. "Are you a policeman too, then?" he asked in a soft tone, just to be sure.
Mike stuck a hand through the narrow gap between window and roof, "Inspector Mike Kearney," he introduced himself formally as Virgil shook it. "Pleased to meet you too, Virgil."
On the other side of the car, Travis was talking to his boss, asking whether someone was 'nearly here' and being told something about 'final approach'. Virgil pulled his feet up onto the seat, arms wrapped around his chest as he tried to ease the ache there. He felt lost and a little scared, the one person he kind of knew here busy with more important things.
"Is who nearly here, Inspector Mike?" he asked quietly, turning to the only friendly face still looking at him.
The man grinned, the expression infectious enough that Virgil returned a tentative smile. "Wait and see."
Travis nudged him. "Hey! How come I'm still 'Inspector Travis', and he's already 'Inspector Mike'?" he asked. Virgil blinked, worried that he'd offended the man, still too tired and confused to realise the detective was joking. Travis smiled gently across the car. "Don't worry about it, Virgil. Call me what you like."
He squinted through the front windscreen, gesturing up at a fast-growing speck in the sky.
"Look, Virgil!"
Virgil looked, watching as the plane banked for landing, coming at the runway with impressive speed. Automatically, he glanced up and to one side, fully expecting to see his elder brother's enraptured face. He saw only the window frame of the car. Gritting his teeth, blinking back tears, Virgil clenched his fists. The little black jet was rolling along the runway now, its flaps extended as it slowed and turned onto one of the taxiways. She was sleek, compact and beautiful. In his head, he could hear Scott's running commentary pointing out the streamlining, and the precision of her design. Virgil could appreciate her beauty for himself as she taxied onto the apron and to a halt just metres away. He itched to look over her more closely, look at the joins of those flaps and figure out how they worked. He wasn't surprised by the US government registration number displayed on her otherwise unmarked tail plane. He'd already realised she was years ahead of his father's little turbo-prop.
Scott should be here. That was Virgil's only thought as the black jet came to a halt, its engine note descending through the octaves. He was vaguely aware of Travis talking to him, a worried tone in his voice. Scott would love this.
The jet's front door opened, its top half lifting upwards, its bottom dropping to form a short flight of steps. The fluorescent-vested airport man who had waved the jet to a halt hurried forward, first kicking a pair of chocks into place around the wheels and then placing a box-like step at the bottom of the door-stair.
The first person out of the aircraft was a tall, middle-aged black man that Virgil thought he vaguely recognised. His idle attempt to place the memory was wiped out by the next figure. Short, blond, rubbing his eyes and looking around with the tetchy expression that usually meant he'd been up all night reading and hadn't got nearly enough sleep.
"Johnny?" Virgil mouthed the name uncertainly, squinting against the dawn sun. Any doubts were wiped away by the slim figure that appeared behind him at the top of the stairs, a sleepy Alan nestled securely in her arms. "Mom!"
He'd snapped open the seatbelt and was out of the door before Travis could react, using the door itself to push Inspector Mike aside and ducking past him. His mother hurried down the steps to meet him, setting Alan down, hand firmly in John's, and opening her arms.
"Oh Virgil, honey," she said softly. "It's all right, sweetheart, I'm finally here."
Travis couldn't help wondering if he'd made a mistake. Mina Evans had been worried about Virgil's quiet withdrawal from his surroundings. Jeff Tracy had noticed it immediately. Travis himself had been awake half the night, angry with his failure to find the other children and wracking his brains for something he could do to bring back the vibrant boy Virgil had been before the loss of his brothers sunk in.
Arriving at the hospital an hour before the first 'plane into Dominga for two and a half days was due, he'd been glad to find Jeff Tracy awake and willing to agree to his suggestion. They'd both thought that bringing the boy out to meet his mother might help wake him up a little, force him to interact with what was happening around him. Watching Virgil turn near-catatonic as the NASA jet taxied to a halt, Travis fought back a sudden fear that they'd been terribly wrong.
"Virgil?"
There were tears running down the boy's face but he made no move to brush them away. His fists were clenched, his eyes glued to the jet-plane cycling down in front of them.
"Virgil? Virgil, talk to me, please. I'm getting worried here. Are you all right?"
He didn't react, whatever was going on behind his eyes clearly intensely painful and tying up all his mental power.
Travis was looking anxiously at his charge, wondering what he'd tell the boy's mother, when Virgil's downcast expression changed, becoming quizzical.
"Johnny?"
Relieved, Travis followed Virgil's eyes to another boy, standing blinking at the top of the plain steps. A figure that Travis vaguely recognised as Vaughan had already stepped to the ground and was urging the child to follow him. The kid hesitated, and turned to look up at the woman stepping out of the 'plane behind him.
Lucille Tracy was not particularly tall. She was travel-stained and red-eyed, another small child resting in her arms, head on her shoulder. She stood in the first dawn light, its rays outlining her, glowing off the blond hair of her two children and her own copper-shot curls.
"Mom!"
Travis had promised Mina he'd keep Virgil in the car, bringing his mother to him rather than the other way around. He had no chance. Virgil was out of the seat and through the door with a pace Travis simply hadn't expected of the exhausted child. Swearing, he threw open his own door. Caught equally off-guard, Mike Kearney gasped, both men immensely relieved when, whether by experience or sheer fluke, Virgil avoided the still-rotating engine intakes, and fell into his mother's arms.
She squatted down to him with a small cry and a murmur Travis couldn't hear, embracing her son and holding him as he cried.
Sighing Travis let his car door swing shut behind him, Kearney nudging the other closed so as to preserve what remained of the heat inside. The two detectives advanced on the little group, leaving the chief standing by the cars behind them.
Virgil was still wrapped around his mother, talking tearfully to her in a way he simply hadn't to anyone else. Vaughan stood behind them, his hands on the shoulders of the elder of the two blond boys while he, in turn, had his little brother's left hand and right shoulder in a death grip. The NASA man looked up as the detectives approached, raising his right hand from the boy's shoulder and extending it.
"Nathanial Vaughan," he announced, taking first Travis' hand and then Kearney's in a firm grip. "NASA security."
"Head of NASA security," the child standing in front of him corrected seriously.
Travis blinked, startled, looking down at the boy and then at his contact. The other man shrugged, meeting his eyes and not denying the charge. Travis nodded, tilting his head in acknowledgement.
"Charleston Travis," he introduced himself. "It's good to meet you face to face."
The boy looked up at him with interest while Kearney followed suit. Travis was finding himself a little unnerved by the inquisitive gaze. The boy appeared to be younger than Virgil, falling squarely into the age gap between the eleven-year-old and his missing brother Gordon. His expression was rather older.
"You're the one who's been trying to find Scott and Gordy?" he asked, worried eyes flicking back to where Virgil was still sobbing into his mother's arms. His little brother had been kneading his eyes with one small fist, pulling occasionally against the elder boy's hold on the other. The family baby, not much more than a toddler, looked up hopefully at the names.
"Wanna play with Gordy," he announced, before giving a huge yawn that suggested that, whether he knew it or not, he needed a nap far more than he needed to play.
Kearney squatted down in front of the child, holding out his hand.
"Gordon's not here right now. My name's Mike, what's yours?"
"Alan Tracy, pleased to meet'cha?" he managed the same phrase Virgil had used, his voice a little uncertain, shying back against his elder brother to avoid Mike's hand and looking up at him for approval.
"It's 'pleased to meet you', Allie," his brother corrected, pulling the younger boy a little closer. "Alan's only four and he's meant to keep away from strangers." He looked from Kearney to Travis. "Is he a policeman too?" he asked warily.
Vaughan laughed softly. "They're both policemen, John. They're quite important, so they don't have to wear uniforms all the time. Inspectors, let me introduce John Tracy, who is nine, likes to know things and will probably want to read your files before the end of the day."
John's tired eyes lit up. "Can I?"
"No, Johnny." Another voice spared Travis from answering. They all turned to find Virgil looking seriously at his younger brother, still tear-streaked and encircled by his mother's arms, but no longer sobbing. "Police files have to be secret so the bad guys don't get to see them."
Alan squealed and pulled himself out of John's grip, running towards their brother and throwing short arms around his legs. John hurried after him, quiet but with tears in his own eyes as he hugged his elder brother.
Virgil gave John a quick, one-armed hug back before bending down to pick up Alan. He flinched when Alan repeated his loud demand to see Gordon, before looking around and asking in a puzzled voice if Scotty was with Daddy. Lucille Tracy looked worriedly down at her sons, and John too was looking concerned, clearly old enough to have understood what his mother had told him about the situation and not sure how Virgil would react.
Travis took a step forward, not wanting to risk another withdrawal like the one before Virgil's family arrived and ready to intervene. Kearney stopped him, nodding at the serious-eyed but alert eleven-year-old. Virgil set Alan down, squatting in front of him.
"Gordy had to go away, Alan, but Scotty is with him and taking good care of him. They can't play with you right now, and asking isn't going to change that. They'll come back as soon as they can, okay?"
Alan looked up at his brother, and then around at the circle of familiar and unfamiliar faces all peering down at him. His lips quivered and he shrank back against his mother, letting her pick him up. "Okay," he quavered unhappily. His mother sighed, kissing her youngest reassuringly on the cheek. With Lucille and Alan distracted, Virgil and John exchanged looks; Virgil's concerned, John's reassuring. Virgil hesitated and gave his next-eldest brother another quick hug of comfort and gratitude. Lucille Tracy laid a gentle hand on Virgil's shoulder, leaning over to drop a kiss on John's head too. Virgil leaned into her comfort, John standing beside them with a hand on his mother's back.
Virgil was frowning slightly when he looked up at Vaughan. "Have we met?" he asked wearily.
Vaughan leant down to him, his eyes a little sad. "I work at NASA, where your Dad used to work, Virgil. I showed you and one of your brothers around once when your Dad came to sign some construction contracts for us. That must have been almost three years ago. I'm surprised you remember."
Virgil frowned, one hand waving in the air as if he were trying to picture the scene. "You showed us an old Saturn rocket." His voice dropped, becoming soft and sad. "Scott leaned so far back trying to see the top of it that you had to catch him when he nearly fell over."
Vaughan nodded, his eyes grave. There was a moment of silence, but Lucille Tracy's arms encircled her son, making it soft rather than uncomfortable.
"That was a good day," Virgil recalled eventually. "Scott wanted to fly all the rockets. I wanted to know how they worked."
"And I didn't know, so we had to ask your father," Vaughan agreed. Lucy laughed, pulling Virgil a little closer.
"Why don't we go see your dad, boys?" she suggested in a gentle tone, urging them forward. Alan and John reacted enthusiastically, Virgil with a less excited nod. She whispered something Travis couldn't quite make out to her second-eldest son as the group began to move en-masse towards the cars and he threw an arm around her waist, leaning against her.
Travis hurried to catch her up, feeling a little embarrassed as he guided her towards his rather beat-up car. Lucy Tracy was dressed in comfortable clothes appropriate to the long red-eye flight. Close to, her bloodshot and deeply shadowed eyes were more obvious, and her curly hair was tied back loosely. Despite all that, there was an elegance to her that shamed his own casual look.
"Mrs Tracy, I'm Inspector Travis."
The woman gave him a quick, assessing look. Lucille Tracy didn't radiate determination and strength of personality in the same way that her astronaut husband, or even those he'd seen of her sons, did. Instead she was a circle of calm in the storm, the pacific grace that any household with Jeff Tracy and his five lively sons in it must need. That wasn't to suggest weakness. There was a glint in her eyes that suggested that she was more than capable of getting her own way. He suspected though that most times Jeff Tracy would yield to her will without realising, and without minding when he did.
"I know. I heard you talking to John and Alan." She shrugged at his expression of surprise, pausing in her stride and offering Travis a nod of acknowledgment, her hands still full of her sons. "Thank you for all you've done, Inspector."
Travis couldn't help flinching as her intense gaze met his. She was masking it well, but he could see the devastation in her eyes. He rounded the front of the car, looking up at her across the bonnet. "I just wish I could have done more."
They stood still for a few seconds, letting the world move around them as they shared the same grim acknowledgement of Scott and Gordon's chances that he'd shared with her husband the night before. To his complete lack of surprise, he saw the same defiant refusal to accept the odds in her pale hazel eyes that he'd seen in Jeff Tracy's grey steel.
Virgil had ushered his younger brothers into the back seat, John on the far side and Alan in the middle. He grimaced, gasping as he straightened up and leaning on the car. Lucille was at his side immediately, taking his shoulders and studying her son's face.
"Are you okay, honey? The doctors told me your chest is hurting."
Travis frowned. "He shouldn't be out of bed, really. I asked your husband's permission to steal him for an hour or so."
"Then let's get you back to bed, Virgil honey." She kissed Virgil's forehead, her eyes soft with concern. She eased him into the more comfortable front seat and climbed into the back with her two younger sons, checking their seat-belts carefully, and helping with Virgil's before securing her own.
Vaughan had followed the family, Kearney at his side and Coates behind them. "I'll get the luggage sent to your hotel room, Lucy. I'll be at the police station when you need me. I need to check in with base and there are some things I need to look over."
He nodded an acknowledgement to Travis, his eyes flashing a warning to take care of his charges. Travis didn't need it. He drove as carefully as he knew how, listening gladly as Virgil pointed the harbour out to his little brothers.