"Thank you so much for your time, Detective Inspector," Penelope said.
She rose from her seat in the small office and reached out her hand. Campton shook it and nodded.
"You're welcome, Lady Penelope. I just wish I had more news for you." He released her hand. "We'll do everything we can to find him."
"I know you will," Penelope said, "and I know John's family will be most appreciative of your efforts. Thank you once again for letting me make the initial call to them."
Campton nodded again.
"I wouldn't normally allow it but since it's you, I can make an exception." He paused. "We really will do everything we can."
With a sad smile, the man withdrew from the room, leaving Penelope alone with only the televid for company.
"Oh, dear," she thought as she lowered herself into the chair again. "This is going to be most unpleasant."
~oOo~
Time had never ticked so slowly. Not even the distraction of a rescue had kept Gordon's mind away from the what-ifs and worst cases. He felt as though the wind had been taken out of his sails. Where are you, Johnny? he thought. Don't do this to us. It was one in the morning, yet everyone was still awake. Jeff had tried to send them off to bed after the rescue but his efforts were half-hearted at best.
Gordon glanced over at his father's. The man looked as though he had aged ten years in the last ten hours. His lips were pressed into a thin line. His grey hair, usually so neat, was unkempt from the countless times he had run his hands through it. For the first time since their mother had passed away, Gordon had not known what to say. So instead he sat on the couch, arms tightly folded over his chest and one foot tapping on the ground.
Virgil was sitting at the piano but hadn't played a note. He had merely ghosted his fingers over the keys. Scott was standing nearby, turned towards the window as he watched the moon climb and start to fall again. Tin-Tin and Grandma were on one of the other couches, leaning into one another for comfort. Kyrano sat beside them with a hand on his daughter's shoulder, his usually composed face lined with worry. Brains was sitting at the chess board; he hadn't moved a piece in two hours. The Lynch twins had busied themselves making tea and clearing away dishes. A heaviness hung in the air, a darkness that had nothing to do with the night outside.
When the video phone sounded, everyone flinched.
Jeff's hand was on the accept button in under a second and Lady Penelope's fair face appeared. The sorrow in her blue eyes cut deep into Gordon's heart as he jumped up from his seat and went to his father's side. The others joined him and he shared a long look with his older brothers. Please let him be okay…
"Jeff, everyone. I am using the video phone as I am not in a position to use our…other line." Her meaning was clear: don't mention International Rescue. "I have some news." She paused. "It's not good."
Gordon turned as his grandmother gave a choked sob. Tin-Tin pulled her into a hug. He gulped and turned back.
"John's car was found abandoned at the side of the M11, between Saffron Walden and Duxford. It doesn't appear that there was a struggle. His luggage was still inside but the doors were unlocked."
"What about camera footage, Penny?" Jeff asked. "Were there any witnesses?"
Penelope shook her head, the pearls at her neck shifting a little.
"There are no cameras in the area and, thus far, no one has provided any information about the issue. The police are intending to release a statement to the press and will soon be in contact with you. An old friend of mine, Detective Inspector David Campton, is in charge of the investigation." Penelope bit her bottom lip and looked away for a moment. "Jeff, there is something else you need to know."
Gordon leaned forward and placed his hand on his father's shoulder.
"Go ahead, Penny," Jeff said. His voice was toneless.
"Well, this isn't the first disappearance in the area. In fact, John is the third young man to disappear from the M11 hard shoulder in nearly four years."
"What?" Gordon asked. "You can't be serious!"
"I am entirely serious, Gordon," she said.
"What happened to the other two men who disappeared?" Jeff asked.
Don't. Just don't go there, Gordon thought. Don't think the worst…
"They have never been found," Penelope said. Her voice began to waver. "Jeff, the police are afraid that John may have been kidnapped. They are also afraid that, while they have no bodies, due to the nature of the crimes and the emerging pattern, they could be dealing with…a serial killer."
Gordon felt his insides backflip and he stumbled away, placing a hand to his mouth as his stomach threatened to eject its contents. No, no, no, no!
Virgil was at his side in seconds and placed a steadying arm around his him.
"Easy, fella," he said.
When Gordon looked up, he saw his terror reflected in Virgil's dark eyes. Virgil squeezed his brother's shoulders.
"I am so sorry, Jeff," Penelope said.
"All right, Penny," Jeff said. "One of us will be there as soon as we can."
"Okay, Jeff," Penelope said. "I shall be waiting."
The video phone screen clicked off and Jeff did not move. For a few moments, he was exquisitely still.
"Father, I'll go," Scott said.
"No, son," Jeff said. He stood up, rising to his full height and turning to face his eldest son. "I'm going. You need to stay here. International Rescue is now in your hands."
"Yes, Father," Scott said.
Then Jeff turned to Gordon.
"I'm going to need someone to fly me to England in Thunderbird One and then return to base," he said. "Will you do that for me, son?"
Gordon nodded and straightened up. Virgil patted him on the shoulder. Never, in the entire history of International Rescue, had his father asked him to fly Thunderbird One. It was always Alan, even though Gordon had achieved all his competencies and the internal 'certification' that Jeff required of them. Sometimes he had wondered if his father didn't trust him enough. Now, though, he saw that was certainly not true.
"F.A.B., Dad," he said.
"Off you go. I'll join you in the jump seat in five minutes."
Gordon nodded and went to walk to the sconces that marked the secret entrance to Thunderbird One's hangar. He stopped, though, and looked back at Scott.
"Good luck, kiddo," he said.
With that blessing, Gordon headed off to the hangar. He watched as Jeff went to comfort his mother.
"Oh, Jeff," Grandma sobbed. "What are we going to do?"
As he reached for the lamps, Gordon saw his father's face harden in a way it hadn't in years.
"Everything we can, Mother," he said. "Don't worry, I will find my son."
~oOo~
At first, he couldn't remember where he was. All he knew was that he had the mother of all hangovers. What the hell did I do last night? I bet Gordon played a significant part in how I currently feel…
Then it came back. Oh, it all came back.
John sat bolt upright, his arm jarring on the cuff. That was a mistake. His stomach churned and he looked around for something, anything, to vomit into. But there was nothing. So instead, he threw his head over the side of the bed. His eyes streamed and his nose filled with gunk as he expelled what little was in his stomach all over the floor. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Fatigue pressed him back onto the bed and his head was spinning, pounding as though he had drunk five too many tequilas. The tea, John thought. She drugged me. That bitch drugged me…
And then the last words she spoke came back to him again.
"I need to take what I want. I have to take it."
In that moment, the sickness didn't matter. The hammering in his head was nothing compared to the agony of realisation. Oh, God. Oh, God, no…
Of course, there was no evidence. He didn't feel physically different. There was no injury, no cuts, no bruises. Inside, though…
Inside.
He had died.
~oOo~
"Changing to horizontal flight," Gordon said.
"F.A.B., Thunderbird One." It was strange to hear Scott's voice through the comm. "Take care of my 'Bird."
"Will do," Gordon replied.
It had been some time since he had last trained in the sleek rocket but it came back with ease.
"Just like riding a bike," he said.
Jeff didn't reply. Gordon exhaled slowly and swallowed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. How could he make it better? What could you do when there were no jokes left? Fear was churning in his chest as he adjusted his heading, bringing Thunderbird One around on itself to jet off in the right direction.
"That's what your brother said about driving," Jeff said quietly. "That is was like riding a bike. That you'd never forget."
"Dad," Gordon said, although it took some time for the rest of the sentence to come out. "He'll be fine. John will be fine. He's smart. He's brave. If someone has taken him, he'll find a way out."
"I don't doubt your brother's intelligence or courage, son," Jeff said. "I worry that he's in a situation that he can't get out of, no matter his level of bravery or aptitude. If you're staring down the barrel of a gun, it doesn't matter what you're like. Your life is entirely in the other person's hands. And that is the most frightening thing about this. He might simply be powerless to help himself." Jeff snorted, a derisive sound. "I imagine he pulled over to the side of the road to help someone. It's what I would have done, what any of you would have done."
"He might be totally fine, Dad," Gordon said.
His reiteration didn't bring much comfort. Reality pressed down like a tonne weight. They fell silent in the cockpit and for a time, the only noise was Thunderbird One as she ferried them across the world.
It gave Gordon time to think. John was… There were too many things to say. John had been both his cheerleader and his taskmaster, never letting him get complacent about his Olympic training. He had been the comforting hug when Gordon needed it most, after their mother had died. John's had been the face Gordon had seen first when he woke up in hospital after his hydrofoil accident.
"Hey, Squid," he had said. "There are easier ways to earn a vacation, you know…"
People often lumped Gordon and Alan together, the two youngest, the two troublemakers and tricksters. He smiled in spite of the weight on his heart. It was true. They were rogues, and when together, no one was safe.
But that wasn't all that made Gordon Tracy. He wasn't a mindless prankster, some idiot who was incapable of being sensible and sensitive. There was a lot more to him. Despite being an aquanaut, he could still see the beauty of the stars and he had a collection of sci-fi novels that would put any 'space nerd' like John to shame. John complemented that side of him as much as Alan complemented the other.
That was why, when he had heard the words 'serial killer', the redheaded Tracy had nearly lost his mind. You can't take him away from us, he thought. You can't take him away from me. Whoever you are, you have no right to rip our family apart.
Gordon adjusted his heading again. Thaere was only one person who could help his brother now.
Mom? Gordon thought. I know you're probably sick of hearing me asking you for help with stuff, but this is important. Please, keep Johnny safe. Don't let him join you. I'm…I'm not ready for that.
He kissed the tips of his index and middle fingers and sent the prayer off into the ether.
I'm definitely not ready for that.