Edutainer asks: Whumpay: 16: Presumed Dead

Jeff sighed and rubbed his gritty eyes hard.

It had been four days since Scott's…sigh. The video had immediately been taken down but not before several other hundreds of thousands of people had seen it. Jeff had been braced for a deluge of calls but the only people who did contact him were the ones who had known about Scott's status and the ones he actually needed to talk to.

Thank heavens for small mercies.

Those calls had led him here today.

Washington DC and the Pentagon.

Where Jeff was going to plead for a mission to rescue his son. His alive son. Because a world in which Scott wasn't present was more than Jeff could even bear to contemplate.

Still he waited.

What he wanted, what he was asking, Jeff knew that the man he was waiting to meet did not under any circumstances want to meet him. Hence he was camped outside his office. But for once Jeff could be patient.

For Scott.

For his sons.

For himself.

The door opened and the man he had waited for most of the day stepped out, shrugging an overcoat on, but as he turned and caught sight of Jeff waiting Colonel William Byron's shoulders sagged and the man couldn't stifle the sigh that escaped him.

Jeff stood and held out his hand, and pretended he didn't notice his old friend's hesitation. Manners won out, and Bryon clasped his hand tight.

'Jeff.'

'Will – I know you don't want to talk to me but…'

'Jeff, it's not that I don't want to…sigh…come into the office. Jenny, can you please get us a jug of coffee, some apple pasties and hold all my calls and appointments until I say otherwise.'

'You have a meeting scheduled for 38 minutes time.'

'Thank you, Jenny. Please cancel and rearrange it.'

'Very good, Sir.'

'Come, Jeff. Let's catch up.'

Instead of sitting at the desk Byron headed over to the couches, sitting on one and gesturing for Jeff to take the other. Despite his desperation to get to the crux of the matter, Jeff allowed the Colonel to lead the conversation down the mundane minutia of mutual friends until Jenny brought the coffee and cakes and left them to it. Still Jeff waited until the coffees were poured and offered.

'Will? What's going on? Why isn't anyone talking to me?'

'Jeff, I…sigh…it's all one big mess.'

The man dragged a hand down his face, and Jeff could see the strain on his face. But this was no time for Jeff to play peacemaker. He needed to know what was going on. Jeff put on his best business voice.

'Tell me what's going on.'

'How much have you been told about what happened?'

'Nothing. All I know is that Scott was flying escort for a World Council food aid flight and got shot down. He was paraded as all captured prisoners are, with accusations and threats of retribution.'

'Ok. Did they contact you afterwards?'

'Did you expect them to, Will?'

'It was something we talked about when Scott first broached the subject of joining up. You remember we specifically discussed what to do if he was captured?'

'Not something I ever thought would happen, and definitely not a discussion I would ever forget. Especially not now.'

Jeff took a sip of coffee as an excuse to gather his thoughts. The feeling that something else was going on was growing by the minute, and while Will Byron and he were very old friends they still were on different sides of the fence. Will was military, Jeff wasn't – anymore.

He wasn't going to let that stop him getting the truth.

'Did you see the exe-execution video, Will?'

'Jeff – '

'Did you watch it?'

'I saw it.'

'That man shot my boy, Will. He shot my boy in cold blood and in front of the world. Two of my boys saw it! And then I find out that Scott, my Scotty – the most noble and honest man in the world – has been executed for being a spy and stealing secrets. What the hell is going on, Will?'

He was barely holding it together, despite his best efforts, and Jeff was aware that he was losing.

'Jeff – I can't discuss that, you know that. Please don't ask what I can't tell you.'

'THIS IS MY SON. You – you sent him in, you set him up and now you're just gonna let him rot in that God-forsaken place? You're not even going to repatriate his body, are you? You bastard.'

Byron sighed. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to talk to Jeff in the first place. He hadn't wanted this mission to go ahead, had vehemently protested the use of unwitting USAF personnel but had been overruled. To find out that it had been one of his best friend's sons that had been shot down and captured as a direct result of said mission and now executed…Bryon had spent the last four days locked in arguments with the shadowy Military Intelligence who had run the mission for exactly this reason – he knew Jeff would turn up on his doorstep at some point for this very reason.

'I have spent the last four days talking with everyone trying to get your boy home, Jeff. Four days. I have gone to every level of the GDF, USAF and the World Government.'

'And?'

'The World Government will not get involved. They cannot be seen to, otherwise Bereznik could have grounds to make this an all-out war rather than as it is now, a civil one. The USAF and GDF refused point blank to even talk to me. I tried, Jeff, I really did. But as far as they are concerned they are presuming Scott dead and washing their hands of the whole situation.'

'I see.'

Jeff stood and took three steps towards the door before he turned back to his friend.

'As of' – Jeff checked his watch – '1700 hours today Tracy Industries is severing all military contracts.'

'Jeff – please, think about this! If you do that you'll go bankrupt and out of business, not to mention the hole that that would put the GDF and American military in.'

'I don't care. I will not allow the World Government to wash their hands of Scott's death.'

'What do you want, Jeff? What can I do?'

'I want my son back. I want the people responsible for Scott even being put in this position to be held accountable. I want someone to get my son's body back.'

'I can talk to people, I have contacts and with that threat I can use it as leverage. But I cannot run a rescue mission for a man presumed dead in a country being torn apart by civil war.'

'Then I shall lead the mission myself.'

'No – Jeff – that's not wise!'

'You can't stop me, Will.'

'You're right, I can't. But if you get captured how do you think the regime are going to use that – against both yourself and your boys? Please, Jeff, be sensible.'

Jeff tutted, spun around and headed out the door, only to pause and poke his head back.

'Byron – you have 24 hours to come up with something or I swear I'll pull every contract. I don't care what it will cost, I just care about my boys. Remember that when you talk to your contacts.'

The slamming of the door didn't hurt as much as Jeff's use of his surname did. But the man couldn't blame him. He just hoped that this could be resolved to Jeff's satisfaction. He was only grateful that Jeff hadn't threatened to go to the media about what had happened.

Colonel William Byron sat behind his desk and picked up the phone.

'Jenny – get me Major General Taylor Johnson on the line.'

'Yes sir.'

'And Jenny – if he says he's busy tell him Jeff Tracy just stopped by and we need to talk.'

Jeff stormed through the Pentagon and out to where his car was waiting. And his friends.

Kyrano sat cross-legged on the hood, safe in the knowledge that his soft clothing wouldn't scratch Jeff's car. Beside him, dressed in a Huntsman dark brown tweed suit and a crisp white shirt, stood his brother. A third man was standing beside him, dressed in a navy pinstripe Liverano suit with a pale blue shirt and a mid-blue tie. They all straightened up when Jeff came into sight, Kyrano hopping off the car.

'They won't help. Not the USAF, not the GDF and certainly not the World Government. We are on our own.'

'It is as we feared then, Mr Tracy.'

'I'm so sorry, Jeff.'

'As am I. What do you intend to do?'

'I intend to launch my own rescue mission, Hugh. And I want you all along if you'll come.'

'Respectfully, Mr Tracy, you cannot come.'

'Kyrano's right, Jeff. You're too high profile. Moving through a war-torn land is not going to be easy even without your famous face.'

'Gaat and Kyrano are right, Jeff.'

'But Scott's my son…'

'We know, Mr Tracy.'

'We've been talking. The three of us will go. If you will take care of the girls since we don't know how long it will take. They won't be much bother since they're both in college, just during the upcoming break.'

'We can get in and out far more undetected than you can either alone or with us.'

'Are you sure? All of you?'

'Yes, Jeff.'

'You are good friends, all of you. Kyrano, Hugh, I will take good care of them, I promise. Is there anything you want upfront?'

'You can drop us at the airport, Mr Tracy, and leave it to us. If we need anything we will be in touch.'

'And Jeff?'

'Yes, Hugh?'

'Chin up, old boy. We'll bring your boy home. One way or another.'

Jeff smiled at the trio. They were his closest friends and he would never be able to thank them for this. Or to ever repay them. He stood at the airport and watched them fly off in Hugh's private jet.

The world may have given up on his son, presuming Scott dead, but not him. Not his boys. And not his friends.