Scott's Hotel

He had just gotten back from talking with the FBI, demanding information on the investigation. The only answer he got, however, was 'it is ongoing, Mr. Tracy'. He had eventually sat around, inconspicuously looking over shoulders, for an hour. He discovered that the search was being focus around a radius within in an hour's drive of the park.

He decided to go back to the hotel and talk to his father. Closing the door with a sigh, Scott walked over to the dresser and threw his car keys down on it. Taking his phone out, it started vibrating before he could put it down. Frowning at the number, Scott flipped it open and answered the call, "Scott Tracy, here."

"Hey, Scott" Alan voice greeted him.

"Alan!" Scott sat in surprise, "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"He is where has been for the last day, Scott," an unfamiliar voice said calmly, "we are calling so you can pass a message to your father."

"You know that when I find you," Scott growled, "There won't be anything for the cops to find." As he talked, Scott opened his e-mail and sent a quick message to John; telling him to trace the call coming into his cell.

"Alan was just telling me how you were protective," the man chuckled, "But that isn't the reason for this call. Now, are you going to let me tell you what you need to tell your father or should i hang up now and take away any chance of you seeing Alan again?"

Scott got a response from John, acknowledging the request. Scott then returned his focus to the phone conversation, "I'll listen, but I want to talk to Alan."

"You will get that chance," was the response, "Now; this is what you are to tell your father: the next five hours will show reruns of the last twenty hours. At the end of those five hours, he and one other person are going to submit a final bid. This is going to be blind, and only I will know both the bids. After they are submitted, I will wait an hour and call the winner to tell them where to find Alan. The loser will be notified of their loss last," the man paused letting the instructions sink in, "Think you can handle that?"

Scott ground his teeth to suppress the first retort that came to mind, instead saying, "Shouldn't be too difficult."

"Good," was the sneering reply, "Here's baby brother."

Scott heard the phone being passed around, then Alan, "Hi, Scooter."

"Hey, Sprout," Scott responded kindly, "Good to hear from you. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine. And if you had been home earlier, you could have talked to me," Alan said sarcastically, "Where are you, anyways? Did you replace Gordo already? Seems a little early."

"No, Sprout," Scott smiled, "I flew Brains out to get Fermat, and then stayed to harass the cops."

"Doubt that has worked very well," Alan snorted, "They probably still think I ran away or something."

"Actually, I wouldn't know, they keep stone walling me. My best glare did even work!" Scot exclaimed trying to get Alan to laugh.

It worked; Alan gave a small chuckle, "Either you have lost your touch," Alan said, a smile in his voice, "Or the cops are made of sterner stuff in Vermont than other places."

"Considering my glare still worked on your school administration," Scott retorted, "I would say it is sterner stuff more than me losing my touch."

"Course you would say that," Alan snorted.

"I do have a reputation to up hold you know," Scott laughed.

"Which one? Your mother hen or protective overdrive reputation?"

"I'm taking the protective overdrive option," Scott said, reading another e-mail from John telling him to keep talking. "Hey, Sprout, I saw that picture you drew."

A groan from Alan came over the phone, "I really wish you hadn't. It wasn't my best work."

"I would have to disagree, baby brother," Scott refuted, "I think even Virgil would have a hard time beating it. I especially liked your cloud work."

"The focus was on the tree, Scooter," Alan sighed.

"I didn't say I didn't see the tree," Scott said, "That was done very well. But only you would find a way to express yourself so well using clouds."

"Were the shapes obvious?" Alan sounded worried.

"Nah, Alan," Scott quelled, "I just noticed one odd shape that I would recognize anywhere, and then looked for the other ones."

"Of course you would see that one," Alan said, knowing Scott was talking about the Thunderbird One cloud, "That was the one I focused on the most."

"I knew I liked you! We think alike," Scott smiled.

"Sorry to interrupt this touching conversation," the man cut in, "But you, Scott, need to tell your father about the blind bid."

Scott let out a slow breath to keep his anger in check, before grinding out, "So you said."

"Bye, Scooter!" Alan called out.

"Bye, Sprout," Scott softened his voice, "I'll see you soon, buddy."

"A word of advice," the man began, "Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Scott."

Before Scott could respond the call was disconnected and a dial tone sounded. Signing in frustration, Scott called his father's vid-phone in the office, "Please tell me you got something, John."

"Not an exact location, no," John shook his head sadly, "But I did determine that he was calling from in Vermont."

"Well," Scott sighed sitting back, "That corresponds with the FBI's theory that he didn't drive more than an hour from the park."

"What was the call about, Scott?" Jeff said coming into view. Scott then explained about the blind bid and about the next five hours being a repeat of what they had already watched. Jeff sat down heavily; he had seen the last of the repeating feed of Alan being electrocuted. "I guess I could say I'm happy this is almost over."

"But you really don't feel that way, do you?" Scott questioned.

"No, Scott," Jeff sighed, "I don't."

Wanting to cheer his father and brother up, Scott decided to tell them about his conversation with Alan. "I spoke to Alan," he began, immediately getting the attention of his family, Virgil and Gordon walking in at that time too.

"How'd he look?" Gordon asked quietly.

"We only talked on my cell," Scott explained, "But he sounded good. Got him to laugh some, too, so he isn't too down."

"I think he's handling it better that all of us," Virgil said slumping against his father's desk.

"He hasn't lost hope," John said, "That is what's keeping him going; hope that we will come and get him."

"How are we going to ensure we get him?" Scott said looking at his father.

"Give this guy a high bid that whoever else is bidding would be hard pressed to match," was the solemn, but firm, response.

"How high are you going to go?" Gordon asked, worry in his voice.

"Doesn't matter," Virgil said, "This guy played his cards just right and will get a large sum of cash out of this, no matter what."

"Right now all I want is to get Alan back," Jeff said evenly, then looked at John, "How small an area did you get?"

"Only a little smaller than the FBI's search grid, but I would need more live feed or another call to get anything better," he said forlornly.

"I'll let the authorities now the new search area, even if they won't tell me anything," Scott said, working his jaw in frustration.