THE GAME by ABBY JONES RATED FRT

One of the Tracy boys becomes an item to be collected. The Tracys get caught up in a game played by wealthy individuals, and one player, in particular, has a fondness for mind games.

Author's Notes: Loads of thank yous and virtual chocolates to my beta-reader - quiller (thanks for all the commas).

Chapter 1

A tall powerfully muscled man, his bald head glistening in the flickering light of fiery torches, stood over a stone altar. The man was dressed in a robe heavy with dazzling jewels. His eyes glowed amber as he held a knife over his bare arm. With a quick slash he cut his arm, and allowed his blood to drip freely into a wooden bowl. On the altar next to the bowl were three bamboo cages. One was filled with squirming toads; another held black scorpions, and the third, fist-sized spiders. Grabbing one of the toads, the man daubed it with his blood and chanted a spell. The creature grew limp in his hand. The man motioned to his servant who crouched in the shadows of the altar. The servant handed his Master a primitive wooden statue. The statue was of a squat, naked woman; her stomach and bosom bulged, and her glass eyes were grotesquely enormous. The tall man wrenched the statue's head off and placed the stupefied toad into the statue's hollow belly. As the man reconnected the head to the statue's body, he murmured another spell. The eyes of the statue glowed red. With a satisfied smile, the man handed the statue back to his servant, who in turn presented his Master with an identical one. Reaching into another of the cages, the man selected a scorpion.

Kyrano shot up in bed. His face was wet with perspiration, and his body was trembling. It had been a long time since he had dreams of his brother, and this dream had seemed all too real. With shaking hands he searched for and found the bottle of pills he kept in his bedside table. Taking the glass of water sitting atop the table, he threw the pills in his mouth, and gulped down the water. Breathing heavily, the manservant lay back on his pillow, closed his eyes and thought of his days as a carefree child running through his father's fields.

A pair of heavy iron gates opened onto a long gravel road. At the end of the road was an impressive 18th century Chateau. Known as the 'house of the forest', the chateau was surrounded by dense woodland. Home to the same family for decades, the locals at a nearby village also knew the Chateau as the 'house of secrets'. The building was heavily guarded, cameras scanning the property for any unwanted intruders. When curious tourists asked questions about the Chateau and its mysterious occupants, villagers would shrug and shake their heads...'they do not disturb us, we do not disturb them,' was the common reply.

Hugo de Beaumanoir sat near the fire in the Chateau's library. In his hand he swirled the contents of a wine glass as he studied the flickering flames of the fire. His companion, seated next to him in a matching leather chair, drained the contents of his glass and set it down on a nearby table.

"You must travel to Florida with me Hugo, the winter is too cold here."

Hugo snorted. "Nonsense, Luc you know I like my winters here in the Chateau, besides the game will be still be on."

"Ah, the game. I was wondering if you still played it. How many are in on it? I'm heartily glad I gave it up, too much stress."

"We have a number still going, some new members as well. I have upped the ante this time."

Luc chuckled. "Not a rare white rhino again Hugo, that was impossible."

Hugo took a sip of his wine and gave his friend a sly smile. "A person this time."

Luc gasped. "Surely not, Hugo. You are not that depraved. We made that decision when the game began, that we were not to involve humans."

Hugo shrugged. "Times change, Luc. The new members have brought in lots of money and wanted a better game. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

Clearly agitated the blond Luc got to his feet and started to pace the floor in front of the fire. "If you had nowhere else to go with the game it should have ended Hugo. It had surely reached its pinnacle years ago. We started it in University and to me that was when it was most enjoyable."

"The beast has not yet run its course Luc. I must say I did consider it at a time but there were others who wished to keep playing and I am protective of my game. I didn't want it to go beyond my control. It is my game and anyone playing, plays by my rules."

"But a human, Hugo, an innocent."

"As were all the animals we took Luc. Some argue that we are no better than the animals."

Luc raised his eyebrows at his friend's remarks and turned to the fire. "Is the human harmed?"

"We always return what is not ours."

"And what is the name of their category?"

"It varies. This year, the son of a billionaire."

Luc spun around to face his friend. "Children! No!"

"I should say the adult son of a billionaire. Most I know are lazy good for nothings, and deserve a little adventure in their lives, adventure that is not bought for them."

"The game is not a little adventure, it could be a very damaging experience to say the least."

"Luc, trust me. The game is controlled, there are rules to how it is played, and if any player breaks the rules, they are dealt with severely. I am not a man to be trifled with, and I can assure you we have had no breaches."

Luc returned to his chair. "As much as I enjoyed it, I know now why I relinquished my membership."

Hugo smiled at his friend and reached out a hand to touch Luc's. "As a co-founder of the game, you will always be a member Luc. Come and play. You'll enjoy it.'

Luc looked at his friend of twenty years, and almost didn't recognise the face that looked back at him. Hugo was the only son of a millionaire and was always up for some fun. The game was invented by Hugo to pass the boredom while finishing off their final year exams in university. The game was exciting, and at the end of each game, the players ended up in Hugo's isolated Chateau, drinking the family wine, and waiting eagerly to see who had won. When the two friends began their careers as merchant bankers the game continued and the stakes got higher. Hugo was devoted to it. Luc was devoted to chasing girls, and after he had married and had children had ceased playing the game altogether. The two had lost contact for a long while until Hugo had contacted Luc out of the blue and they had resumed their friendship. Hugo's parents had died and he was left wealthy but with no family and few friends

Now looking at Hugo's face in the dancing light of the fire, Luc noticed a hardness in the man's fine boned features. It seemed to Luc that Hugo was still very much devoted to the game.

Luc clasped his Hugo's hand in his own. "I remember our days playing the game with affection my dear friend but unfortunately our paths have diverged somewhat, and now the only games I play are football with my children."

Hugo nodded. "Of course, Luc. I have no family and therefore sometimes fail to see how important they are. Now, it is getting late, you must head home or they will worry."

"Yes, Charlotte will not be happy."

The two men stood and embraced before Hugo saw his friend to the door of the Chateau and into his car. Luc waved as he drove off down the long gravel road. Hugo smiled and returned to wave yet as soon as Luc's car had gone his face darkened into a frown. A short Asian man with glasses approached Hugo from the shadows of the night.

"Is he to be trusted? You told him more than he needs to know."

"He is a loyal friend. Luc knows not to talk. He played the game and was a master at it. If any knew, he would not escape punishment from the authorities. Luc risks too much to betray me or the game."

"We will watch him all the same. Come..." the man gestured into the Chateau. "My master wishes to speak with you. He wants to ask a favour, and the reward I believe will be quite tempting."

Hugo followed the man back into the darkened front hall of the Chateau.

He had made sure it was noted on his father's and brothers' computer diaries, and on the calendar in the kitchen just so every member of his family was clear when he was taking his holiday. That week was sacrosanct to Gordon. There was only a brief window of time when he could get the perfect wave and he had yet to miss the opportunity. Miraculously, World emergencies seemed to ebb when the waves were at their best. Gordon's luck, Alan grumbled.

As soon as the week dawned, Gordon was winging away from his island home before his dad or an emergency could stop him. The aquanaut's destination - the island with the perfect wave. The holiday isle not only featured a great wave but girls in bikinis, delicious food, and the best feature of all - no Thunderbirds.

A five hour journey later, the ginger haired young man collapsed onto a queen sized bed, and sighed, completely relaxed. The accommodation was as good as its internet site had promised. A Bali-style beach hut, simple yet comfy - big bed, mosquito net, private outdoor shower with a plunge pool, a wide sheltered verandah with a plantation style cane setting overlooking the golden sand and rolling surf. Gordon had planted his board in the sand right next to the door as a reminder that he was to spend every possible waking moment surfing. He had booked this beach hut knowing it was the closest to the ocean, and sure enough he could see a fantastic set of waves from his window.

The day was still early and there was no time to waste. Quickly changing into his summer wetsuit, Gordon grabbed his board and ran down to the surf. Limbering up before he took the plunge, Gordon reflected on how lucky he was that he could surf let alone walk. It had only been two years since the accident that almost crippled him, and even now he could feel the odd twinge in his back and legs from the extensive damage of the hydrofoil accident. He had been an Olympic swimmer, and due to his years of training and healthy lifestyle his recovery was relatively quick. Surfing was something he used to do in his downtime while training in the US and Australia - it calmed him and it got the adrenalin pumping when he caught a great wave.

Pushing out into the water, its coolness was refreshing, and the young man had a grin on his face as he paddled out to the back of the waves.

Chapter 2

"Newbie. This one has reddish hair."

Piers glanced at his twin sister as she trained the binoculars on the sea below their vantage point of a cliff road above the beach. "Can you see his face?"

"No, not really. Looks young. Full head of hair at least."

Piers raised an eyebrow and took the binoculars from his sister who sat beside him in the back seat of a Soft-top Jeep. "Definitely reddish hair, powering through the waves, strong swimmer."

In the driver's seat, Keg looked up from his paper. "Early twenties?"

Piers swung the binoculars to the beach. "Too far to see his face but he is pretty fit."

Piers put the binoculars down and threw a question to his cousin. "What do you think, Keg, time to go?"

"If you feel this is our target then yes we should go."

Mia sighed in frustration. "This conversation is starting to sound like a B grade spy movie. Do you have any plans other than for me to go down there and tell the guy how much I admire his surfing technique?"

Now Piers sighed. "It is a perfectly good plan, and if doesn't tax your brain too much Mia, I will go through it with you again. You are to bait the target..."

"You mean chat up Gordon Tracy"

Piers put a finger to his lips. "Ssh, you don't know who is listening. I hear the target's father has spies everywhere. We will not mention any names. As I said, you are to engage the target in conversation, invite him to our place for a drink tonight, and we will take it from there."

"Too easy," Keg smiled.

"Nothing is ever easy Keg," Piers warned. "First up we can only hope the target likes brunettes."

Mia laughed. "Well if I don't turn him on, plan B is for Piers to try seducing Gord...I mean the target."

Piers took another look in the binoculars at the surfer. "I wouldn't mind it," he murmured.

Mia and Keg both laughed.

Gordon stayed out in the surf until his stomach reminded him that it was time to eat. In his excitement to get to the island, Gordon had forgotten to have breakfast. The young man caught a last wave into the shore.

Tucking his board under his arm, Gordon walked up towards his towel. Spearing the board into the sand, the young Tracy unzipped his wetsuit to his waist and started to rub his hair and torso dry.

"Nice abs."

Startled Gordon swung around to face where the voice had come from. A pretty brunette in white shorts and navy singlet stood behind him. She held her hands behind her back.

"Sorry?"

The girl smiled, her teeth very white against her tan skin. "I said, you have nice abdominals."

Gordon quickly glanced at his naked torso before self consciously bringing his towel in front of his body. "Uh...thanks."

"You're a swimmer, aren't you?" The girl's eyes travelled the length and breadth of Gordon's body. "Tall, broad shoulders, slim waist, killer arms, and those abs."

Gordon could feel his face redden under the girl's scrutiny. "Yeah I swim...a bit."

The girl's brown eyes narrowed. "Come on, a little more than a bit."

Gordon opened his mouth to speak but couldn't think of the words to say. He had never had a girl being this direct before at least not in the first thirty seconds of meeting her.

The girl giggled and produced a camera she had been holding behind her back. "Don't stress, I'm a photographer for the girls' surf magazine Liquid Blue," Mia flashed a brightly coloured business card in Gordon's face. "We like to have a bit of eye candy for the girls, and you fit the bill, that's if you're willing to have your photo taken."

Eye candy? Gordon had never considered himself to be eye candy. His brothers would have hysterics if they were witnesses to this conversation.

"Excuse me...ah?"

"Mia," the girl replied brightly.

"Mia, I'm flattered by the attention but I really don't think I want my photo taken," Gordon replied shaking his head.

"Oh, come on. You honestly don't know how many chicks you can pull after you get into our magazine."

Exasperated, Gordon raked his fingers through his hair. Meeting girls was on his wish list while chilling out on the island but, God; dad would kill him if he appeared in a magazine. Better nip it in the bud before Mia's pretty smile had him posing for the centrefold, he thought.

"No really, Mia I have to say no." Gordon's voice was brisk as grabbed his board and started to move away from the girl with the camera.

Mia's face fell momentarily before her sunny smile reappeared. "Gee, I haven't had a guy turn down Liquid Blue before. You're not a wanted criminal are you...sorry, what is your name, by the way?"

"Uh..." Briefly caught off guard by Mia's sudden question, Gordon stumbled for a name before replying. "Cooper, Cooper Ward."

"Cooper," Mia repeated, her eyes never wavering from Gordon's. "Nice name Cooper. I hope I haven't frightened you off with this." Mia held up the camera.

Gordon shook his head. "No, no, I just don't like having my photo taken. My mom wouldn't stop taking photos when I was young, guess I developed a bit of a photo phobia." The lies were coming out of Gordon's mouth thick and fast today and he hadn't even eaten yet.

Mia laughed. "She must have been proud of you, your mom."

Gordon paused, a barely remembered smiling face flashed into his head. "Yeah, I guess she was."

Gordon flung his towel over his shoulder and hitched the board up further. "Anyway, Mia, it was great meeting you, but my stomach is telling me I gotta eat. I hope you find some more eye candy."

"Yeah, thanks Cooper, I'll see you around." Mia gave a little wave and turned in the opposite direction.

Gordon started the short walk to his hut. He was almost at the door of the hut when a hand on his arm stopped him. After years of training Gordon's body automatically tensed to counter attack until he saw the hand was small, slim and tanned. Gordon turned to face Mia.

"Cooper!" Mia's voice was breathless. "I called and called."

Gordon angled his head and tapped on the side of it. "Sorry, must be water in my ears."

"Oh..."Mia patted her chest, and cleared her throat. "I'm so out of shape, running in the sand is against my religion."

Gordon laughed. "What's up?"

"I know we've just met but I was wondering if you would like to come to the Sunset Resort for a few drinks tonight."

"Mmm, I don't know. It is my first day here; I wanted to relax for a few days before getting into the party thing."

"Oh, it's not a party, just a few quiet drinks and maybe a game of pool. Just a couple of my friends. You'll be back asleep in your hut before nine."

"Nine, geez that's late," Gordon joked.

Mia smiled again, and Gordon's decision was made. "Yeah, why not."

"Great. See you about...oh...six thirty?"

Gordon nodded.

Mia backed away. "You know the Sunset Resort?"

Again Gordon nodded. "I checked in there."

Mia backed further away. "The bar near the pool, okay?"

Gordon waved. "Yep, I'll see you tonight Mia."

Mia gave another wave before turning to run back up the beach. "See you Coop!"

Gordon made a face. Coop. Mental note, Gordon, do not reveal name of alias to Alan.

Chapter 3

Mia's face was bright red and her chest was heaving when she slowly jogged back to the Jeep parked on a road near the beach. Her brother's lip curled in disgust.

"For a girl so skinny, your fitness level is appalling."

"I'm skinny from a lack of food because my dear darling brother has me working all day so he can sit on his arse and do nothing!"

"Ooh, temper, temper. "

Mia glared at Piers as she sat down heavily on the back seat of the car.

Keg looked at her from the front seat. "So?"

"So, hook, line and sinker."

Piers smiled. "Did you get a photo for our client?"

Mia shook her head. "He doesn't like his photo taken; he has a phobia or something."

Keg nodded. "Reasonable explanation, son of a billionaire, former Olympic swimmer, brother of hot shot pilots, racing car drivers - I can see why he might get a tad edgy about photos."

"Thank you for the analysis Keg," Mia rolled her eyes at her cousin. "The guy, who is quite cute and extremely fit by the way, told me his name was Cooper Ward."

"Cooper Ward? I don't know Keg," Piers bit his lip. "He might not be the target after all."

"For a guy who doesn't like his photo taken, wouldn't it be reasonable he doesn't use his own name?" Keg replied.

"Reasonable yes, but we have to be sure. There are rules remember and if we are wrong..." Piers raised an eyebrow.

Mia drew in her breath. "We need to get a better photo than the fuzzy one they sent us; surely there are photos from the boy wonder winning a medal at the Olympics, that was what? Four years ago? And more info, this is a big operation for us, as you said Piers, we have to be sure. I mean, we practically jumped on the first young red headed guy we saw surfing, it might not be him."

Piers straightened in his seat. "Don't worry; I'll get the photo and more information. Let's get back to the resort, we need to prepare for tonight."

Relaxing back on his leather office chair, the patriarch of the Tracy family and the founder International Rescue, Jeff Tracy took a sip of his coffee before pressing a button on his desk which connected him to his son, John, based on Thunderbird 5. Orbiting the Earth, Thunderbird 5 or T5, was International Rescue's "eyes and ears in space" monitoring the world for any potential dangerous situations. Jeff also used T5 to monitor the whereabouts of his sons, and in his mid morning break, Jeff wanted to see how his second youngest faired on his holiday.

A flat panel monitor on the wall opposite Jeff's desk flickered and came to life. John, a good looking blonde man of 25, appeared; in his hand he held a watering can.

Jeff smiled. "How's the pot plant, John?"

"What? Oh, this?" John held up the can before setting it down. "I planted some lettuce seedlings, and they were looking a little dry. What's up?"

"Gordon. I wanted to see how he was going."

"Dad, he's been away for what? Less than 24 hours, you have to let up sometimes." John replied while typing on the console's keyboard in front of him.

"When you're a father John, I may just listen to your advice."

John snorted. "Me a dad, have to meet a girl first, and there's not too many available up here."

"The downside of the job, I'm afraid, John. Is there any movement concerning our surfer?"

"No, no movement. He's just where he'd said he'd be. I'm sending you the visuals now."

A satellite picture of Gordon's holiday isle appeared on the monitor. A bright red dot indicated the position of his son. The dot was positioned on a beach.

The tension Jeff had been feeling since Gordon had left for his holiday lessened a degree. Even though, Gordon had nearly died in his accident two years ago, Jeff had always felt confident in his son's ability to be cautious and take care of himself, yet lately...Jeff just couldn't shake the niggle of unease he felt about Gordon's latest trip.

John's face reappeared on the screen. "Hey dad, I'll keep checking on Gordon for you and keep you posted."

Jeff nodded. "Thanks John, that's good of you. Next holiday you take, promise me you'll meet some nice girls."

John grinned. "Thanks dad, I'll definitely meet girls; can't promise they'll be nice though."

Jeff Tracy was smiling as the monitor switched to black.

Chapter 4

The tang of the salty sea air, the slight breeze rustling the palm leaves, and the dull roar of the surf. Gordon was so busy on his home island that he really didn't get the opportunity to appreciate the natural beauty of the beach, and here, lazing in the mid afternoon sun on the verandah of the hut, the young aquanaut was grateful for these few days to completely relax and recharge.

The last few weeks of work had been fairly grueling. Gordon and his brothers handled the pressure of work differently, his eldest brother Scott thrived on the adrenalin of hard work and long hours, second eldest John sought solace in his intellectual pursuits, likewise middle brother Virgil escaped any work pressure through his music and art, youngest brother Alan, Gordon's so called 'partner in crime' was the one person he could turn to relieve any stress levels, the brother's sharing a love of sport and practical jokes. Unfortunately, Alan had only returned from duty on Thunderbird 5 a few hours prior to Gordon leaving, so this holiday was a much needed stress buster.

Now soaking in the glorious rays of the sun, with a cool drink in his hand, and muscles tingling from two great surfs in one day, Gordon knew it would be an effort to walk to the resort's bar to meet and greet Mia's friends. The opportunity to get to know Mia more was the only thing that propelled Gordon into the shower and to scrounge in his luggage for something decent to wear.

Not bringing dressy clothes on a surfing holiday, Gordon threw on his only collared shirt, tugged on his jeans, and slipped into a pair of leather boating shoes. A splash of lotion, and a quick brush of the hair, he was ready to go. Before leaving, Gordon strapped his communicator onto his wrist. Brains, IR's resident genius had developed an advanced telecommunications device in the guise of an ordinary wrist watch. On holiday, Gordon was loathe to wear it but the consequences of not wearing it far outweighed any annoying interruptions he might receive from his family. With five minutes to spare, Gordon left his hut and headed for the resort.

When the game first began, players' points were tallied on reams of paper in the library of Hugo de Beaumanoir's home. Over twenty years later, Hugo's library had been turned into a high-tech control room. Computers and monitors dominated the large room. Hugo sat at his 18th Century black walnut desk in the midst of the technology, his focus on the enormous TV monitor covering the wall opposite. At a touch of a button on his keyboard, Hugo could bring up details of every player's progress, which were then displayed on the monitor.

There were seven players in the international game. As the game's controller, Hugo knew every player, yet the players did not know the identities of each other. The players themselves didn't physically score points yet relied on teams of people working for them. The teams were known as 'hunter and gatherers', and worked under the direction of their particular player. The game had its origins in University scavenger hunts but had evolved into something much more. The influx of money and the power of the individual and highly secretive players enabled the game to have almost no boundaries as to what could be 'scavenged'.

For each game, Hugo gave the players the options of many categories to earn points. The level of difficulty in acquiring an item within each particular category determined how many points the player received.

The wide range of categories included authentic memorabilia from the Titanic, to what had given Hugo's friend Pierre the horrors, the adult son of a billionaire. There was a time limit in gathering the items, and the winner of course, was the one with the most points. There were no actual prizes, only the recognition from other players of winning the game.

It was getting late, and Hugo longed to turn in yet he waited. Soon for one of the players, the points would have a dramatic change. This player was new to the game yet played it with particular zeal. He managed to play within the rules of the game - just. Like the other players, this man had on applying to be in the game, professed to feeling jaded with life, and needed something to inject some adventure into his otherwise humdrum existence. Hugo, however, saw something in the man's hard stare that was almost maniacal and very nearly rejected him outright. The offer of a ludicrous amount of money soon changed Hugo's mind. The man was accepted, and the player wasted no time in suggesting another category. Hunting and gathering humans. Again, money was offered, and the category was set.

It was with some irritation, that Hugo also had to deal with the man's minions turning up at his residence and offering another incentive. Hugo was yet to agree to that particular offer.

Hugo watched the clock on his monitor and continued to wait.

Chapter 5

Normally he was a study in how to maintain your cool under pressure yet tonight, sitting with his sister and cousin waiting for Gordon Tracy to arrive, Piers was a bundle of nerves. Keg, hid behind an ever present paper, and Mia slowly sipped on her non alcoholic cocktail, eyes glued to the entrance of the bar. A photo sent to Mia's laptop earlier in the afternoon had confirmed the trio's suspicions, Cooper Ward was Gordon Tracy.

Piers forced his body to be still but he could feel with growing annoyance sweat beginning to trickle down his neck, no doubt staining the expensive Italian shirt he wore. They were professional hunters and gatherers yet this now, what they would do tonight, was something way out there. Securing a human, with all its possible implications was a major step for a team that had previously hunted and collected valuables from celebrities.

Playing the game had been exciting and very lucrative. Every year, Piers, Mia and Keg would be assigned a new player, and new items to gather. When asked by the player to gather this particular item, it blew the team away. Mia was willing, Keg doubtful, and he himself, answered with a straight out no. All three held a meeting in Mia's L.A apartment, eventually deciding against the assignment, and Mia was about to email the game's controller when she screamed and wildly pounded the floor with her feet. Thinking his sister mad, Piers had rushed to her side, she directed him to read the email she had just opened from Control. Piers' mouth actually gaped open when he saw the amount of money they would receive if they took on the assignment. Another short meeting was promptly called, it lasted perhaps 10 seconds, decision made, and here they were, waiting to gather a human.

"Oh god, he's coming. I feel sick." Mia spluttered on her drink.

Piers reached out and gripped his sister's arm. "Get it together Mia. We are too far in to turn back now," he hissed.

Mia took a deep breath, steadied herself and forced a sunny smile on her face as she waved at Gordon, who stood at the entrance to the bar.

Gordon waved back and headed towards the trio who sat on a lounge and couple of chairs near the bar's floor to ceiling windows.

Mia stood and took Gordon's arm. "Cooper, I'm glad you made it. I wasn't quite sure you would come." Mia gestured to her brother and cousin. "This is Piers, my brother, and Keg, my cousin."

Both men got to their feet and shook Gordon's hand. Mia made room for Gordon to sit next to her on the lounge.

"Thanks for inviting me. I can see the family resemblance," Gordon replied noting the dark features of the trio.

"Yes, our mothers are sisters. Lovely French women," Piers replied with a smile.

"Cooper, what's your poison?" Keg asked holding up his half finished beer.

"I'll have the same but I can get it." Gordon started to get to his feet. Mia took his arm and tugged him back to the lounge.

"No, our treat. A welcome to the island."

"Same all round, then?" Keg asked and getting the positive headed for the bar.

Piers leaned in towards Gordon. "Cooper, Mia tells me you are a swimmer, a shy swimmer who doesn't like his photo being taken."

Gordon laughed. "I'm a diver actually, I swim for exercise, and no I'm not partial to having my photo taken."

"A diver, a surfer, and a swimmer. All round water baby. What's your star sign, Pisces?" Mia asked.

"Aquarius actually --"

"Mia! Don't embarrass the poor guy with your chick magazine questions," Piers interjected.

Mia pouted at her brother, and smiled sweetly at Gordon. "Silly girl questions, sorry Coop."

Keg returned with the drinks, and after the four toasted the island's wonderful weather, Gordon turned his attention on the trio.

"So, other than Mia shooting eye candy for a magazine, what are you two doing here?"

"Definitely, not for the surfing, "Piers replied and with a sweeping hand gestured to his thin body draped languidly over his chair, and to Keg's rather rotund form squashed into his seat. "We come here via Mia's frequent flyer points, stay in her luxury hotel room, and empty the mini bar. All on company expense, of course."

Mia sighed dramatically. "Yes, they're freeloaders. Riding on the coat tails of my success as a photographer."

Keg popped up from his chair. "I help carry the equipment."

"I don't," Piers sniffed, and sipped his iced tea.

Gordon couldn't help from laughing as the light hearted bantering continued between the three. They were obviously close, and it reminded him of the many 'discussions' he had with his four brothers. Studying the three over his drink, Gordon noticed dark features were the only resemblance they had. Mia was a live wire, her brown eyes crinkled slightly as she laughed. Her hair was dark brown and worn long so it spilled across her shoulders. The white summer dress she wore made her skin appear a berry brown. Her brother in contrast, wore a dark shirt and trousers. His skin was pale, and his hands soft, Gordon guessed he didn't labour in the sun too often. Piers looked like he needed a good feed, while Keg his cousin, certainly lived up to his name. A barrel like body clad in shorts and a loud shirt, he had white skinny legs, and thick black curly hair.

It wasn't long before Gordon relaxed into his second beer, Mia ordered some food, and Keg challenged Gordon to a game of pool. Later, nursing his third beer and watching the waning rays of a setting sun with Mia comfortably tucked in at his side, the aquanaut was happy he had made the effort to 'meet and greet' that evening.

When Keg offered Gordon his fourth beer, the red head signalled a no with his hand. "I'm a bit tired, Keg, been a long day. I might call it a night."

Mia snuggled in closer to Gordon. "Aw, no Coop. We are having so much fun. Why don't I get the Mia special to help revive you?"

Gordon looked down at the girl next to him. "The Mia special?"

"Don't get too excited, Cooper," Piers said. "Mia only made it up last night with the bar attendant. I wouldn't try it." Piers shook his head and made a face.

"Ah, well -" Gordon started to decline but Mia was insistent.

"Oh come on, one taste. Keg liked it. Didn't you Keg?"

Keg grimaced and pointed to Gordon's empty bottle. "How about another beer, Cooper?"

Not keen on trying any new concoction, Gordon quickly nodded "Yeah okay, one more to end the night. Sorry Mia, don't like to mix the drinks."

Mia huffed. 'You're missing out, Mia's special was really scrummy. The bar guy even said he'd put it on the drinks menu."

"And offer money to people who could finish it," Piers finished with an evil smile.

Mia's eyes threw daggers at her brother.

Keg handed Gordon the beer. Gordon drank deep. The quicker he finished the drink, the sooner he would be in bed. Bed, it was somewhere he'd loved to be at this moment. Sound asleep, listening to the waves...

"Cooper."

Gordon's head snapped up at Mia's voice. The dark haired girl was looking at him with concern.

Gordon yawned. His body suddenly felt like it was weighted with lead. "Uh, sorry, guys. I don't think I'll be able to finish the drink. I'm beat."

Gordon placed a shaky beer on the bar table, and tried to stand. He found his leaden body wouldn't listen to his head, and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

Mia held Gordon's arm, her voice seemed to come from a long distance away. "Are you okay, Cooper? You don't look too well."

Gordon's head fell onto the back of the lounge. He was exhausted. The beers really packed a punch.

"I ha.. have to get back to..." Gordon's words drifted away and he didn't have the energy to complete the sentence. His eyesight was getting blurry.

The young man tried to stay awake but the feeling of lethargy was too strong. He felt people tugging at his arms, pulling him upwards, onto his feet, when all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Someone peered into his

face and asked him a question. Gordon couldn't understand a word they were saying and was too damn tired to respond. He swayed as a wave of blackness completely overwhelmed him and his senses knew no more.

A dead weight between them, Keg and Piers half carried and half dragged Gordon out of the bar. After explaining to concerned staff that their friend had had a bit too much to drink, Mia joined them and helped propel Gordon up the pathway to the hotel room.

At the room's door, Mia swiped the key card, pushed it open and helped the two men lay Gordon on the bed. Quickly, they removed the aquanaut's watch, his wallet from his jeans' pocket, his shoes and lastly his shirt. Piers gave a low whistle as he appraised Gordon's torso.

"Great muscle definition, and those arms -"

Mia nudged her brother. "Put your tongue back in your mouth Romeo, we have work to do."

Piers dragged his eyes from Gordon's well defined stomach muscles to watch his sister take a black hand held device from the bedside drawer. "Do you know how to work the scanner?" He asked.

"It can't be hard. I guess we just plug it in and run it over him," Mia replied looking around for the nearest power point. She found it, plugged it in and pulled the scanner over to where Gordon lay.

"Chances are, Control is wrong, and he doesn't have a chip. I mean, who implants chips in their kids like they were dogs?" Keg asked.

"Billionaires maybe? Must be hard to get through customs though, imagine the inconvenience," Piers replied, his eyes on his sister as she moved the scanner up and down Gordon's body.

"I don't think someone is going to implant a chip in their son knowing it will go off every time he leaves a supermarket, besides I can't find any in him," Mia said. "Flip him over and I'll scan his back to be sure."

Keg obliged, pulling the young Tracy over onto his stomach.

"Again, very impressive physique...but look at those scars!" Piers pointed to the series of silvery white lines near Gordon's back bone.

"Yeah, I saw them when I first met him but didn't want to scare the poor guy off. Hi, I want to take your picture, ooh look at your scars."

Keg shrugged. "Perhaps that's the reason he doesn't want his photo taken."

"I don't think so...oh!" Mia stopped as the scanner started to beep. "He really does have a chip in him."

All three studied the area where the scanner beeped. It was on Gordon's right shoulder. Mia pressed the area, and could feel a small hard lump just beneath the skin.

Mia shot a warning glance at her brother. "No jokes about chips and shoulders."

Piers held up his hands in mock defence. "Hey, you said it, not me!" He moved to grab his cell phone from a nearby desk.

"Okay, we know what to do now. Mia, do your stuff. I'll ring Control."

Mia quickly collected and prepared the materials she would require to surgically remove the chip.

Keg sat on the bed near Gordon's head. He actually would have preferred to be back in the bar, drinking beers and playing pool, this part of the operation was definitely not what he wanted to do or see.

Piers spoke briefly on the phone before turning back to his sister. "Control's sending the retrieval team. They're not too far away so we don't have much time. How long before the drugs wear off, Keg?"

"With alcohol? Could be awhile. You'll have to tell the retrieval team to monitor him though, in case he doesn't wake up. Unfortunate side affect."

Mia held a scalpel up, it glinted in the light. "I pray he doesn't wake up when I cut him with this."

"Is it sterilised?" Piers asked.

"I guess it is. I pulled it straight from an unsealed pack, and scalded it to be sure. " Mia shook her head in disbelief. "This is too unreal, I'm a photographer not a surgeon."

"Looks good on the resume, photographer, can perform minor surgeries," Piers quipped.

"Better add druggist and kidnapper," Keg frowned. "Come on Mia get on with it, the retrievers will be here soon, and you know they get narky if we're not ready."

Mia scrubbed up in the bathroom, snapped on rubber gloves, doused Gordon's back in disinfectant, and prepared to cut into his shoulder.

"You two better hold him in case he stirs and thrashes around. I don't want to add too many more scars to the collection he already has."

Keg and Piers held onto Gordon's arms as Mia prepared to cut into his shoulder. Keg looked away as Mia made the incision. Gordon's body twitched slightly. Piers watched with fascination as Mia carefully probed the cut area for the chip with tweezers.

"Ah, here's the little sucker." Keg dared a quick look and almost gagged when Mia showed him something resembling a bloody grain of rice in a plastic cup.

"Are you going to sew him up?" He asked weakly.

Piers studied Mia's handiwork closely. "Pretty neat surgery, Mia, but he's bleeding badly."

Mia pressed several thick bandages to the wound soaking up the blood. She then put some more disinfectant on it and then set about threading a large needle with surgical thread. "This is so bad. The poor guy is going to want

to hunt me down and kill me for adding another scar. That's if the infection doesn't set in and kill him first."

Keg had to turn his head away once more as Mia sewed the wound together.

"How's that?" Mia asked her brother once she had finished. Piers face showed his disapproval. "Sewing's obviously not one of your strong points, Mia."

"Huh! I'd like to see you do better." Mia placed a cotton wad over the wound and secured it with surgical tape. "All finished. Did I spill any blood?"

"Your talents as a photographer are wasted my dear, there is no mess on the bed or the floor." Piers started to bundle up the surgical material and stashed it in a plastic bag.

Mia checked Gordon's pulse and his breathing. "We better get him into the recovery position while we wait for the retrievers."

After Keg repositioned Gordon, Mia sat by the young Tracy and gently smoothed his hair from his brow. "I'm really sorry Gordon Tracy. Hell of a first date. Poor guy, I promised he'd be in bed before nine."

"Yes, well he is in bed, and I'm sure he passed out just before nine, so no broken promises, my dear." Piers responded dryly.

The sudden rap at the door startled the trio; they all quickly jumped to their feet. Piers approached the door cautiously.

"How many towels did you bring?" He asked the door in a loud whisper.

"Three and they're fluffy," was the muffled reply.

Keg nodded at Piers indicating the password was confirmed, and Piers slowly opened the door. Three men dressed in black fatigues entered the room. Two held a stretcher. Keg helped the men place Gordon onto the stretcher.

Mia threw a blanket over Gordon, and tucked it in.

"Check his breathing, "she spoke to the man who entered the room first. "He could stop breathing anytime. I have also removed a microchip from his right shoulder; the wound also needs to be checked for infection."

The man's face was impassive as he responded, "We have medical equipment in the van."

"Where are you guys taking him?" Keg asked with curiosity, as he watched the two men take the stretcher out the door.

"To a plane, Control will contact us there. Thank you for the item. Make sure you leave no evidence. Your money will be sent shortly." The man's stony features did not alter as he nodded his goodbye, and exited the room. He followed his colleagues bearing the stretcher to a dark coloured van parked a few steps away.

Piers lingered at the front door, looking on as Gordon was loaded onto the van, and the vehicle departed. Assured that no one was watching the retrieval process, he quietly shut the door. "Item successfully hunted and gathered."

Mia blew out a long breath as she sat down heavily on the bed. "I need a drink and not that non alcoholic shit I was drinking all night."

Piers went to the bar and found a drink for each of them. "Mind you, our mission is only half over. We only have till dawn to erase our tracks."

Keg collapsed back on the bed next to Mia, he let out his breath with a whoosh. "Let me settle the nerves first. I am sooo glad that is over. I need a friggin' holiday."

Mia nodded emphatically. "Yeah, I hear you Keg. I want to fly far away from these boring little islands, and their mocktails. Who's for shopping in Paris?"

Piers raised his glass at his sister's suggestion. "Paris it is."

Chapter 6

At the base of the stairs leading to the interior of a sleek Lear Jet a tall man, clothed in black, flipped open his cell phone and punched in a few numbers. It rang a number of times before a reply.

"Control."

"Control, item secured, and in the plane. We have clearance to leave the island.'

"Good. Is our guest comfortable?"

"He is now sir. We had a few problems en route from the Resort. The drug in his system was powerful, and he wasn't responding well. We gave him oxygen, and fluids. He's stabilised, and hooked up to monitors."

"Excellent. Watch him closely. I can't afford to pay for damaged items."

"Yes sir."

"I want you to take him to the Eastern safe house. Ensure our guest is settled, and I will issue further instructions."

"Certainly, sir."

The man snapped shut the cell phone, went up the stairs, which were drawn up behind him. The jet's door secured in place, it then taxied down the runway, and took off with a roar into the starry night.

As soon as Hugo replaced the phone, another rang. Irritated, because he knew exactly who it would be, Hugo let it ring awhile before he picked it up.

"It was a success, No?" The voice was triumphant.

"I'm assuming you already know the answer."

"I have my spies, they keep me well informed."

Hugo groaned inwardly. "I don't know why you choose to play the game, sir. You provided me with Tracy's background and holiday details; I think you could have secured Tracy without my help."

"But I like to play games, Hugo, and like you, I don't like to get my hands dirty."

Rubbing the creases in his brow, Hugo realised he was suddenly very tired, it had been a long day. "In all likelihood you have won the game, I had heard from a player who had ambitions of snagging a Russian billionaire's son but it fell through. As soon as the points are tallied, you will be notified."

"Ah! How quickly you forget my request."

"I haven't forgotten. I don't see it is possible in the time frame we have. If you keep an item for longer than the prescribed time, your points will be forfeited."

"But the rules are I have access to the item my team has gathered? "

Hugo sighed. "Yes that's true."

"Then what can be the harm of an extra day?"

"The harm is that the player may get too attached to the item and not want to return it or the item is damaged beyond repair."

"Oh, I don't want to keep the item, and I certainly don't want to harm the item, only seek knowledge from it."

"How do you propose to do that?"

"All with the mind, Hugo. Pain free except for perhaps, a slight headache afterwards."

Hugo gritted his teeth and sat back in his office chair, frustrated. He absolutely hated to change the game's rules. Not one player had even dared to question them. Yet this man, with his creepily serene voice had managed to get Hugo's confirmation on anything he asked. Christ! Whose bloody game was it, anyway? Hugo opened his mouth to deny the request --

"I'll double the money offered and I'll forfeit the points, for an extra 24 hours."

Hugo's mouth snapped shut. He found himself nodding. "Y...Yes, all right," he managed to stammer. Composing himself, Hugo added forcefully, "My men will drop off and collect the item, however."

"Wonderful. We have a deal. I'll send you the address details shortly."

The line was disconnected.

Hugo returned his phone to its cradle. "Yes, I have no doubt Gordon Tracy will enjoy his extra day with you."

An insistent beeping jolted Jeff awake from an uneasy sleep. Momentarily disorientated, he fumbled in the darkness before switching on his bedside lamp. Locating the remote control, Jeff pressed it towards the foot of the bed where a TV screen silently slid upwards from a built in panel.

John's face appeared on the screen. The young man looked pale, and his worried countenance immediately sent off warning bells in Jeff's head.

"John, not the bearer of bad tidings I hope?"

John took a deep breath before speaking, "It's Gordon, dad. His chip has been deactivated."

Jeff's heart plummeted. After his wife Lucille died from childbirth complications, Jeff had the boys micro chipped. While it may have seemed incredibly invasive and unethical, Jeff couldn't bear the thought of losing his boys. His sons had grown up with the knowledge they had chip implants yet had never questioned it. The only way the chips in his sons would stop working was if the chips had been cut out.

"What about Gordon's communicator?"

"I'm still getting a signal from it. It's located on the island. I tried contacting Gordon as soon as I knew the chip was deactivated, no reply. I can only presume the wrist-com is still attached to Gordon and he remains on the island... or it has been removed," John ended ominously.

Jeff pushed back the covers on his bed, and reached for his dressing gown draped over the end of the bed. "Let's concentrate on the scenario - Gordon is on the island. I'll send Scott and Alan to the island immediately. How many I.R operatives do we have active in the area, John?"

"I've already checked. Three."

Jeff nodded. "Right, contact them and brief them of the situation. Standby status only. We won't know the full details until Scott and Alan get to the island. Keep hailing Gordon's wrist-com and I want frequent progress reports."

"FAB, sir." The TV screen slid back into the panel.

Pausing in the stillness of his room, Jeff took several deep breaths to control the surge of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm his reasoning. He had reservations about Gordon's holiday and unfortunately, those concerns appeared to bear fruit. Taking the silver framed photo of his wife from the bedside table, Jeff took comfort in her dazzling smile. Looking deliriously happy in her wedding dress, Lucille's sunny disposition hid a famously tenacious character.

"Stop wasting time, and go get our boy, Jeff!"

Renewed with a steely determination to locate his second youngest son, Jeff set the photo down, and went to wake his sons' from their slumber.

Chapter 7

Another beautiful day had dawned on the island of the perfect wave. A bright morning sun warmed the island's golden sand and a gentle breeze slightly stirred its thick canopy of trees. Small groups of surfers huddled at the edge of the ocean keenly watching the waves break. Others were waxing their boards and waving to friends already heading out to the surf. Alan Tracy stood at the window of Gordon's beach hut, absentmindedly turning his brother's wristwatch over and over in the palm of his hand. He studied the surfers on the beach and in the ocean, desperately hoping he would catch a glimpse of Gordon's familiar copper hair.

Scott Tracy had been rummaging through the hut. Now he approached Alan holding out Gordon's wallet for his brother to see. "Everything intact - money, cards - as far as I can tell nothing is missing."

Alan turned away from the window and held up the wrist com. "It's working okay. At least a hundred messages from all of us, none answered."

Scott sighed and ran a hand through his thick wavy hair. "His passport was in the safe, his luggage near his bed, and his goddamn surfboard at the back door...it doesn't look good, Al"

"His board's still here, that could be one positive - he wasn't in the surf and, a ..." Alan stopped, he couldn't voice what had been lurking in his mind ever since he heard Gordon's chip was removed, that his brother had been taken by a shark.

Scott clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. He could feel a slight tremor in the young man's body. He knew the bond the youngest Tracys shared. Slightly increasing the pressure of his hold, Scott gave Alan a determined smile and a nod of support. "We will find Gordon, Alan, but we must remain strong for his sake."

Alan nodded, took a deep breath, and recovering his composure asked, "What now?"

His worry for his younger brother concealed by a seemingly untroubled exterior, Scott's ability to instantly make decisions jumped to the fore. "We'll try and see if anyone saw Gordon last night and retrace his steps. There is still the possibility he is on the island - he could be injured or detained in some way. I'll get dad to call in the IR agents, they can conduct a thorough search and interview anyone of interest. The island is small so we should know if he isn't here in the next few hours. If that is the case I will send word to John to trace all flights inbound and outbound, and we'll return to base."

"Return to base? You don't think we should stay here in case he turns up?" Alan asked, a vision swam into his mind of a bloody Gordon staggering up the beach disorientated and alone.

Scott shook his head in reply, "We have better resources at base to conduct the search." Scott started to collect Gordon's possessions, "We're wasting time. I have to report back to dad with everything we found so far, and unfortunately no real inroads into Gordon's disappearance have been made."

Alan nodded and set about helping his brother gather Gordon's belongings.

Gordon woke with a gasp. His head hurt, and his shoulder ached with a dull throb. With bleary eyes he looked around him. He was in a bed. The bed was white, the room was white, everything was white including the light cotton pyjama bottoms he wore. Heaven? No, he hurt too much, a hospital? Gordon groaned, not another hospital.

"Oh, you're awake!" A plump middle aged woman dressed in a white nurse's uniform leaned over the young man, her cheery smile of no comfort to Gordon's pain or mood.

"Where am I?"

The woman helped Gordon sit up, fluffing up a pillow for the aquanaut to lean back on. She gave him a glass of water, which he sipped gratefully.

"On the island's medical clinic, young man."

Gordon frowned. Medical clinic, hospital, he could see no difference. "Was I sick?"

The nurse nodded sympathetically, "Food poisoning, poor dear."

"Food poisoning?" Gordon repeated trying to think what he had eaten. The only meal he remembered was breakfast and that seemed like years ago.

"How'd I get here?"

Smiling brightly, the woman set about taking Gordon's temperature and blood pressure. "So many questions! Your friends brought you here. They were very worried and stayed by your side for hours until I kicked them out."

Friends. Gordon tried to think who his friends were. The beautiful smile of a dark haired girl flashed into his head. "Oh, Mia!"

"Yes, I think one of your friends was called Mia. Don't worry yourself; she'll no doubt call again."

The nurse presented Gordon with a tray of food. "The food's very bland, I'm afraid. Your stomach is still very weak."

As weak as his stomach was, it was also rumbling from lack of sustenance. Gordon wolfed down the toast and crackers.

As he ate, Gordon couldn't help notice his shoulder was bandaged. The nurse saw Gordon tentatively touch the bandage and explained, "I believe you also had a bit too much alcohol, and you unfortunately fell into someone's glass."

Gordon grimaced. "Really? It's not too bad is it?" He flexed his shoulder and winced at a twinge of pain. "What about surfing? Please don't tell me I won't be able to surf."

Patting Gordon on his uninjured shoulder, the woman smiled. "Only a few stitches, love. No real damage to you or your surfing."

His downer of a day lifted slightly by some good news, Gordon relaxed back into his pillow. "Have you contacted my family?"

The nurse's cheery smile fell. "We had a freak storm, all communication was down for awhile and we couldn't contact them, but now you're awake we can put a call through if you like?"

Gordon sat up straighter. "Ah, no. No need to worry them. Surely, I'll be out of here soon. My family will only want me to come home and I really want to get back to the surf."

The woman tittered with laughter, "Oh my, you surfers are all alike, keen as mustard to get back on your boards."

The nurse presented Gordon with two tiny white pills and a glass of water to wash them down. "Take these, they're for your shoulder. Then you can have a rest while I'll go and see if your friends can come and collect you."

The nurse watched Gordon carefully as he rinsed the pills down with the water. Her cheery smile reappeared as she took the glass from him and helped him lie back down on the bed.

With heavy eyes, Gordon watched the woman bustle around the room until he could no longer keep his eyes open, he had felt so awake before but now he felt so...so...very...very...tired.

From across the room, the nurse saw the young Tracy had quickly succumbed to the powerful sedatives. Crossing to his bed, the woman checked Gordon's vital signs and placed him in the recovery position before reattaching him to a heart monitor. Satisfied with her work, the nurse left the room and spoke to a man standing in the corridor.

"Tell Control the item is ready to be delivered to the player."

The man nodded before flicking open his phone and dialling a number.

"Control, we're ready to go."

Chapter 8

The rain had started in the early hours of the morning and now near noon it was still teeming down on Tracy Island. Standing at the floor to ceiling windows of his home, Jeff Tracy watched the water stream down the reinforced glass. The heavy rain shrouded the whole of Tracy Island, and reflected the pain Jeff felt in his heart for his lost son. He remembered when Gordon had his accident and had nearly died; the rain had been just as relentless. Jeff drew out a heavy sigh and forced himself away from the window. Behind him at the round conference table sat Scott, Virgil, Alan, and Brains. Their quiet conversation ceased when Jeff took his seat amongst them.

"What do we have so far, Scott?"

Taking his cue, Scott pressed a remote control in the direction of the wall opposite the table. A giant screen slid down from the ceiling. A picture of Gordon's beach hut was shown.

"Alan and I did a thorough inspection of Gordon's hut. There was nothing in the hut to indicate he was involved in any altercation."

"So you're saying he wasn't forcibly taken from the hut but perhaps left it willingly?" Virgil queried.

Scott nodded. "We know from questioning people on the island that he went to the Resort's bar the night he disappeared." A picture of a bar flashed onto the screen. "He was seen drinking in the company of three people, two men and a woman."

"Do we have any visuals of the three?" Jeff asked.

"Not from the resort but we were given a reliable description of the trio from the bar staff, and we have a possible match on the CCTV from the island's airport. Three people, two men and a woman, left the morning Alan and I arrived."

A black and white picture of two men and a woman appeared on the screen. All were dark haired, wore sunglasses, and carried hand held luggage.

"I'm guessing these three didn't bid Gordon a cheery farewell after a few drinks?"

"Your guess is correct, Virgil. The staff said the two men carried a very drunk Gordon out of the bar."

Jeff frowned at Scott's words. His sons enjoyed drinking socially but he knew they were extremely disciplined in the amount of alcohol they consumed in case they were called out to an emergency. It would be totally out of character for Gordon to allow himself to be carried out drunk.

Scott's words echoed his father's thoughts. "The likelihood of Gordon being dead drunk was pretty small so I asked the bar staff how many drinks he had consumed."

"A...and?" Brains prompted.

"Luckily the bar wasn't crowded that night, and the same guy served the group the whole time they were there. He remembers Gordon drinking three, probably four beers at the most. The beer was not strong, and it was consumed over two to three hours. Certainly he could have been tipsy but the staff said Gordon was completely out of it."

"Perhaps he had a few beers before he got to the bar," Virgil put in half heartedly, knowing Gordon wasn't one to overindulge.

Alan spoke, "Yeah, we asked the bar attendant the same question but he said the only place you could buy drinks on the island was at the resort's bar, and Gordon hadn't ordered or bought any earlier. In fact, the barman said Gordon didn't buy his drinks, it was that man who bought them," Alan pointed to the screen, "The tubby one."

"He was drugged," Jeff said with finality.

Scott nodded, his voice was soft. "We believe so, Father."

Jeff stood from his chair and returned to the window. Taking deep breaths to control the emotions swirling inside, he asked, "Where did these people take him?"

"We think they took him to their hotel room. The resort is a combination of beach huts and luxury hotel rooms, and they had a room in a fairly secluded area. We were given permission to look in the trio's room but have so far found nothing. IR agents are still combing their way through it."

Jeff turned from the window and returned to his seat. "So he was drugged by these people, taken to their room, they presumably removed the chip and...?" Jeff looked to his sons.

"And we know the three left without Gordon the next morning," Scott replied. "But we believe someone else took him off the island."

"Are you sure he's no longer on the island? The ones who took him could have cut the chip out, stolen all his money, and dumped him on the beach or worse, in the ocean." The anguish was noticeable in Virgil's voice. An intense young man, unlike his father and elder brother Scott, Virgil sometimes found it hard to conceal his emotions.

"None of Gordon's belongings were touched, Virgil," Scott was firm in reply. "Going by the information I received from John on all the island's outbound flights, I believe Gordon was taken off the island by a private plane only hours after he was carried from the bar." Scott pressed the remote control; a grainy black and white video of two men carrying a stretcher into a Lear jet was played.

Scott froze the video and enlarged the shot of the stretcher. "As you can see the footage is too blurry to make out any distinguishing features. John found that the plane had only arrived on the island on the day of Gordon's disappearance. A party of businessmen were on board. They later asked for an emergency exit after the airport curfew. Their reason was that one of their party had become seriously ill and they wished to take him to a larger medical facility. The thing is..." Scott looked to the four other men at the table. "Three men arrived on the plane and four left."

Lacing his fingers together, Jeff's brow furrowed. "The Island's Immigration didn't question this?"

Alan snorted in disgust. "A mother ship of three-headed aliens could land on the island, and they wouldn't question it."

"Let's just say, the islanders are very laid back in their approach," Scott added a tad more tactfully.

"Sounds l...like...G...Gordon's...sort of holiday...d...destination," Brains said with a small smile.

"And a very convenient place to conduct a well-orchestrated kidnapping," Jeff added. "I am surmising he was taken for who he was and what amount I can pay for his return."

"We've had no ransom demands, and this is the second day after Gordon's disappearance. Could they possibly know Gordon's role in IR?" Virgil questioned.

Scott shrugged. "There are very few who could link Gordon to IR outside of this room. I'm inclined to agree with Dad, the abductors made the connection to Dad's wealth, and they want money."

Scott switched the visual back to the shot of the two men and woman at the airport. "These three are our strongest lead. Through searching various international databases, John was able to get detailed information on them. The tubbier of the two men is Maurice Kegworth; he is a cousin to the other two, who are brother and sister, Piers and Mia Willoughby. All three are dual French, US citizens but mainly reside in the US. Only Mia has paid employment, she's a photographer for a surf magazine."

"Do you think they are the main operators?" Jeff asked.

"Doubt it; to get information on Gordon, and the funds to spirit him away from the island, it would take a lot of money and brain power, the back info I have on these guys indicate a lack in both departments. I'm sure they were the bait, in particular Mia, she was said to be by Gordon's side constantly at the bar," Scott replied.

Alan couldn't help a smile. "Gordon, always a sucker for brunettes."

"The Lear jet? Anything?" Jeff shot the question to Scott.

"John discovered it's owned by an importer, exporter business but the details are very messy, leads go everywhere; someone is very adept at covering their tracks. As I said, the only strong connection to Gordon's disappearance so far is the trio from the bar."

"Right!" Jeff stood. "All emergency operations are suspended until we locate Gordon and bring him home. I want you three boys to go to Paris and track down the people from the bar. Brains, you and I with John's help will try and unravel the mystery of the jet. Keep in touch, boys, and take care."

"FAB." The three Tracy sons nodded at their father before leaving to prepare for their journey to France. Brains laid a hand on Jeff's shoulder in support. "H...have you to...told your

mo...mother?" He asked quietly.

Jeff slowly shook his head. "I don't want to worry her, she was really looking forward to her stay in the US with Tin -Tin, and hopefully, Gordon will be here to greet her when she and Tin-Tin return."

Brains dipped his head sympathetically. "I u...understand...J...Mr Tracy."

Later, Jeff listened at his desk for the roar of the engines as his sons took off for Europe. The rain had cleared a little, and the sun was struggling to make an appearance. Jeff closed his eyes. "God speed boys, bring Gordon home."

Chapter 9

As the jet neared France, the three Tracy brothers sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Scott, the pilot, set his mind on the plan of action they would take once they arrived. Occasionally his thoughts would waver to Gordon and where the hell he could possibly be. Scott was the big brother, always setting his younger brothers on their feet if they fell. When Gordon was gravely injured, Scott had sat by his bed, held his hand and willed his brother to be strong but now...Gordon was gone, who knew where, and all Scott could do was keep willing his brother to be strong, and hope...hope somehow his brother would get Scott's messages of strength.

Co-pilot, Virgil, studied the clouds; his head was filled with music that calmed him and stilled his sorrow for his lost brother. Gordon and he had not parted on the best of terms. Two days before Gordon left on his holiday, Virgil had returned from a gruelling rescue and was relaxing while listening to some jazz. Gordon's room was next to his, and his younger brother absolutely hated Jazz. Tempers flared and nerves were on edge as the two brothers fought a duel with music. Gordon turned up his preferred grunge music on his stereo, Virgil responded by turning up the jazz. Grunge, jazz, grunge, jazz. The stereos were cranked up by each brother until there was no more music, only horrible noise. The clash of music genres only ended when John, trying to enjoy his last few days on Tracy Island, stormed into their rooms and ripped the Stereo cords from the sockets. For a moment there was a stunned silence. It was broken by Virgil taking up his clarinet and playing a jazzy tune. Swearing loudly, a furious Gordon stomped out of his bedroom, and made his way to the pool. The brothers managed a civil goodbye before Gordon departed Tracy Island the day after.

More than anything, Virgil wanted to grab Gordon and bear hug him, say sorry, and to promise never again to part in such a stupid, childish way.

Alan sat in the cabin of the plane, a laptop computer on his knees. The young man studied the directory of Paris' streets, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the trio from the bar. John had provided the address the three usually used when in the city, the apartment home of Mia and Piers Willoughby's mother. Alan kept returning to the photo of the three; he scrutinised their every detail, wanting to be able to recognise them as soon as they reached the address. Entwined with his feelings of loss and fear for his missing brother, Alan was also angry. Angry someone had even thought of harming Gordon. If only they knew how many times Gordon had put his life on the line to save people, he didn't deserve this crap. Alan was determined to find Gordon, and equally determined to bring his abductors to justice.

Two men faced each other at the end of a grassy airstrip running like a long slash in the thick tropical jungle. Both men wore black, one man was white, tall and heavy set; the other was short in stature, bespectacled, and of Asian appearance.

The taller of the two swiped his brow with the back of his hand, the beads of sweat splattered onto the ground. "It's like an oven, mate."

The second man smirked a little at the big man's discomfort; the heat did not bother him. "We hope you did not have trouble finding us?"

"Nah, our pilot's the best in the business," the man jerked his head in the direction of the plane. "Won't take too much more time. The nurse is just prepping Tracy for the handover."

Presently, two more men carried a sedated Gordon in a stretcher out of the plane. A plumpish woman in white hovered in the plane's doorway, watching the men carry Gordon to a waiting roofless jeep before disappearing back into the cabin.

With the assistance of the jeep's driver, the stretcher bearers secured it across the back of the vehicle and then returned to the plane.

The larger of the men looked to the smaller. "He's all yours. Tell your man to stick to the rules Control has set out otherwise there will be consequences." The man clapped a hand to the gun at his hip to emphasise his words.

The second man's eyes narrowed behind his round glasses, and he gave a quick bow. "Before you depart, sir, please as a token of our appreciation I present you with a gift." The man snapped his fingers at the jeep's driver who rushed over to the men carrying a wooden statue. The driver pressed the statue into the hands of the taller man and bowed as he retreated to the vehicle.

"A statue of our honoured goddess Eresh," the smaller man explained. "She will give you much luck. Tell your Master my Master will reward him many times."

Taken aback by the sudden appearance of the gift, the tall man could only manage a grunt in reply. The wooden statue was hideous. The man couldn't help but stare at the statue's bulging glass eyes which flashed red in the strong sunlight. The dazzling eyes of the statue, and the suffocating heat combined to dull the tall man's senses, and he could only nod when the bespectacled man spoke very softly into his ear.

The sudden roar of the jet's engines coming to life jolted the large man out of his stupor. After a quick nod goodbye, the tall man tucked the statue under his arm and entered the jet. The plane then taxied down to the opposite end of the grass runway, before soaring up over the jungle into the clear blue sky.

The smaller man's smile remained as he watched the plane fly into the distance. He then walked over to the unconscious Tracy, and tapped the young man's cheek. The aquanaut groaned slightly. "Waking soon, excellent. Don't want to be sleeping when meeting the Master."

The man climbed into the front passenger seat of the jeep, and barked an order at the driver, who quickly gunned the engine and drove the vehicle into the depths of the jungle.

The phone rang on Hugo's desk. He picked it up. "Control here.

"Team Leader reporting, Control. The item has been delivered and we are in the air on the way back to the Eastern safe house."

"Good, good. I presume the handover went smoothly."

"No problems, Control. They even gave us a parting gift."

"Gift?" Hugo was surprised. "What sort of gift?"

"A statue of the Goddess - Ernest or was it Ersh? I'm not sure of the name but the player's contact said you would be rewarded many times. I guess the statue is a reward of some sort. If you ask me, The Goddess wouldn't win any beauty contests, her eyes are enormous...hang on, would you look at that!"

Hugo felt a creeping sense of unease. "Team leader, what's wrong? Tell me what's happening?"

"The statue, Control. Its eyes are glowing red...I can't understand why its eyes...its eyes..."

"What's wrong with the statue, Team leader? Answer me! What is wrong with the statue?" Hugo yelled into the receiver.

There was no reply; Hugo heard the clatter of what he guessed was Team leader's phone dropping to the floor.

Gripping his phone closer to his ear, Hugo could hear a voice rise in alarm.

"What's wrong with Bob? Where's he going?"

Hugo jumped as he heard the short sharp retort of gun shots.

"He's shot the pilot! Oh Jesus Christ!"

Hugo heard a low agonised moaning amidst the screams and shouts of what sounded like absolute chaos in the plane's cabin.

"Team leader, report! Team Leader!" Hugo yelled into his receiver until his voice grew hoarse.

He listened in sheer horror as the scream of the plane's terrified occupants grew in chorus with the shriek of jet engines going into a dive - then nothing.

The phone dropped from his nerveless fingers. Hugo's heart slammed against his chest in shock. Grabbing the phone he dialled the plane's number. No reply. He hit redial. Nothing. Frustrated Hugo flung the phone away. It smashed into pieces on the wall.

Another phone rang on his desk. The phone reserved for the players. Trying to control his shaking hands, Hugo answered the call.

"Control."

"No need for formalities, Hugo, at this stage of the game," A mocking voice responded.

Hugo couldn't contain the rage in his voice. "You killed my people. You destroyed my plane. What is your name goddamn it!! What is your f...ing name?!"

"My men call me the Master, others call me God; you choose one."

"Don't you dare play games with me, you -"

The voice was suddenly savage. "I don't want to play your game anymore, Hugo. Now I have the Tracy boy, I don't need you or your game. In fact, I'm taking over and inventing a new game with new rules. Game rule number one - get rid of the old players. Goodbye Hugo."

The line went dead.

Hugo replaced the receiver. He sat stunned for a few moments before rallying and quickly logging onto his computer. The new player was dangerously insane and he knew where Hugo lived; worse still, he knew how to get into the grounds of the Chateau. He wasn't safe lingering in this room but he had to warn the others. Hugo had colours in order of seriousness that he issued if there was ever a breach within the game. The colour he issued now was the most serious. A screen of red told all players and their teams that the Game was over and their lives were at risk.

His dogs barking outside gave rise to panic, and Hugo worked feverishly to complete his task. He needed to destroy all evidence. Before Hugo pressed the button that would cause the computers to whitewash their databases, Hugo downloaded important and highly sensitive information onto memory sticks. His computers were extremely fast but still it took precious time. The intercom buzzer rang to his front gate. Hugo jumped. No, it was too soon. Much too soon. Finally, the download was completed and he began to destroy the sensitive information. The buzzer sounded again. He heard a familiar voice in the intercom.

"Hugo, let me in old man. It's Luc."

Relief washed over Hugo. He pocketed the downloaded material and flicked on the monitor to the gate CCTV. Luc was waving at the camera, his car behind him. His friend was alone.

Hugo buzzed Luc into the Chateau's grounds.

Luc's smiling face on his doorstep was a welcome sight compared to the nightmare that had just passed. Hugo hugged his friend and ushered him inside. Luc shrugged off his coat, and slapped his friend on the back.

"I haven't heard from you, Hugo. I wanted to see you before I left for Florida."

Hugo nodded impatiently, his eyes kept darting to the windows of the house. "You didn't see anyone out there, did you, Luc?"

Luc shook his head and gave a short laugh at his friend's display of nerves. "Police finally catch up with you, did they? You rogue!"

"No, no nothing like that," Hugo waved his friend into the front sitting room. "Come in, I want to tell you something."

Luc nodded and followed Hugo into the room. Hugo showed Pierre to a seat before taking one opposite his friend.

"I'm in trouble, Luc, and I need your help."

Puzzled by the seriousness of his long-time friend, Luc leaned in close. "Anything you need, Hugo, you know I'll always help you."

Hugo smiled gratefully at Luc's response. "Thank you my friend." Hugo took a deep breath before continuing, "The game is over. Completely finished. We have had..." Hugo paused searching for the right word. "Complications."

Luc's mouth opened in surprise at Hugo's words. "The game is over. How is that so? Wasn't the game soaring to a whole new level? New players, new possibilities?"

Hugo shook his head. "The game has been hijacked by a mad man, and I have handed him an innocent person on a silver platter."

"Surely, not the billionaire's son?"

Suddenly feeling very tired, Hugo wearily nodded his head. "Luc, my friend. I need to give you something," Hugo drew out the downloaded data from his pocket and gave it to a bewildered Pierre.

"I am in serious danger, as are you if you do not leave here soon. The new player is very dangerous, and I believe will kill anyone associated with the Game. What I have given you is information on the player and the billionaire's son. I need you to take it and give it to the billionaire, Jeff Tracy. He needs to find his son as soon as possible."

Luc looked to the memory sticks and then to his friend. His face was pale under the light of a nearby lamp. "W...what about you Hugo? What are you going to do now?"

Hugo stood and gestured for Luc to stand also. "I am going to take you out of the Chateau safely, and you will take Charlotte and the children as far away from here as possible. Then you must contact the Tracys as soon as it is safe to do so. Now come!"

Gathering Luc's coat and a torch from the front hallway, Hugo led Luc into the bowels of the Chateau. Luc remembered from his teenage years, the old rambling building having many secret passages and boltholes. Hugo showed Luc into a rarely used room. The room's contents were shrouded in white sheets. Pushing on a panel above a cobwebbed fireplace, a trapdoor sprung ajar in the middle of the hearth. Hugo gave Luc the torch and motioned for Luc to enter what looked like a dark stone passageway.

"This tunnel will take you out of the Chateau grounds. Leave your car here, Luc, it will be safer for you to get a taxi."

Luc nodded, and was two steps down into the tunnel before he turned and noticed Hugo was not following. "Hugo? Are you coming?"

Hugo shook his head. "I've decided Luc; I will not flee my home. Now, the game is over it is all I have left . But you must go and see to your family, Hurry!"

Luc reached up and gave Hugo's hand a last shake before disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel.

The sound of the Chateau's doorbell startled Hugo as he hurried back to his study. Surely Luc hadn't returned? Quickly he entered his study and accessed the visuals to the camera that was stationed above the Chateau's front door. There was no one there. He had heard the doorbell ring? Hadn't he? Or was he so spooked that he was starting to hear things? Hugo turned away from the monitor and set about dismantling the many computers in the room. The doorbell rang again. Wild-eyed the man crossed to the monitor and peered into it. Again, there was no one there. Just to make sure, Hugo grabbed his handgun from the top drawer of his office desk, and headed down to the front door.

"Who's there? Luc, is it you?" Hugo's pressed his face next to the heavy door, nervously waiting for a reply.

The doorbell rang again. Hugo nearly jumped out of his skin. He shouted, "Who is it? Goddamn it, who's at the front door."

A wailing wind was the only response.

Trembling, Hugo raised the gun, and slowly, slowly opened the front door. A squat ugly statue sat staring up at him on his front step. Terrified, the man went to shut the door but then the statue's eyes began to glow, and Hugo found he couldn't look away.

Chapter 10

Heady with excitement, Mia buzzed around her mother's apartment dressed in her latest find from one of Paris' many boutiques. It was ages since she had been in Paris, and now after hours shopping with the money they earned, she had fallen in love all over again, and had decided that she would buy her own apartment in the famous 'City of Light'.

Piers, reclining on his mother's chaise lounge, sniffed at his sister's happiness. He was bored. After Piers' initial excitement of receiving the glorious amount of money from 'collecting' Gordon Tracy, the glittering allure of the jet-set life had dimmed to a faint glow after just one night of clubbing. Piers was more than ready to move on and seek excitement elsewhere.

Cousin Keg was happy anywhere, as long as there was plenty of good food, and access to a games console. Keg was currently seated in his normal relaxed pose, in front of the television, console in hand, and pizza at his side.

It was fortunate that Mother was out of town for a few months, Piers mused. She was a neat freak and the apartment was not looking its best at the moment. Clothes strewn over the floor, empty bottles of champagne adorned the window sills, and half eaten plates of food covered the kitchen bench-tops. Piers yawned. No matter, the cleaners would soon sort the mess out.

Mia swooned over the lounge next to her brother. "I'm in love with Paris. I never ever want to leave, Piers."

Piers arched a brow. "Oh yes, and what about Mother? You said you would never live in the same country as her ever again, and yet here we are in her house."

"But we have money now, don't we? We can leave this sterile hell-hole the She-devil calls a home and get our own place."

"She-devil? That's not a nice thing to say about our lovely Mother." Piers dug a finger into his sister's ribs; she squealed and squirmed away from him.

A sudden knock at the door caused Mia to sit up in panic. Keg slowly put the console down and looked to the siblings. Piers laughed. "Relax, it's the cleaners. I called them to come and clean up this pigsty. Unlike you, Mia, I do like the uncluttered look of Mother's apartment. Keg, do something useful, mate, and get the door."

On the floor, Keg looked from Piers and towards the door. Grunting, he set down his pizza slice, clambered to his feet and went to answer the door.

While Keg attended to the door, Mia left her brother reclining on the lounge, and wandered over to her laptop. After tooling through her favourite websites, she decided to check her emails. Mia's face blanched when she opened an email from Control. A red screen blinked at her. The young woman called out frantically to her brother, "Piers, quick! It's a code red!"

Piers was instantly on his feet. He rushed over to his sister, and saw the blinking computer screen.

"Shit! This is not good. Someone must have alerted the authorities. We'll have to get out of France." Piers looked up from the screen. "What the hell is taking Keg so long?"

As soon as he asked, the front door closed with a bang and Keg made his way back into the apartment. Both Piers and Mia looked on in alarm as they saw what their cousin was holding. In one hand he clasped a crude wooden statue that he was staring at intensely, and in his other hand he held a gun loosely at his side.

"What have you got there, Keg?" Mia asked, her high voice betraying her apprehension.

Keg slowly raised his head to look at his cousins. His features were slack, and his eyes appeared glazed. "Do you see its eyes?" Keg turned the statue towards Mia and Piers. The statue's bulbous eyes were glowing red.

Piers nodded and cautiously approached the tubby man. "Give me the gun, Keg."

A confused look passed over Keg's face and he tapped at his head with the gun. "The man gave me the statue, Piers. He said it was a reward for our good work."

Piers took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "What man, Keg? Did he give you the gun too?"

Keg looked to the statue once more. "He told me to look into its eyes. Do you see the eyes, Piers?"

Piers edged closer to his cousin. Mia trembled behind him. "Put the gun down, Keg!" She cried out.

Keg now looked to the gun in his hand. "Oh! That's right. The man told me to play a game with the gun." Keg stared suddenly at Piers, and raised the gun so it pointed directly at his cousin's head. "You know how I like to play games, Piers."

Mia screamed as a shot rang out.

John had made sure the local authorities had been notified about Gordon's kidnap prior to his brothers' arrival in France, and the Tracys were met at the airport by a senior officer, a coolly efficient blonde woman, Capitaine Arceneau.

Scott discussed with Arceneau their plans of action before the brothers drove off towards the apartment of the wanted three in a Tracy Corporation car. Two police cars followed.

Alan drove, and being fairly familiar with the Parisian streets, ensured they weren't heavily delayed by traffic snarls.

"What if they are just innocent tourists? Dragged Gordon to their room, freshened him up and pushed him out the door?" Virgil queried from the back seat as they sped along.

Scott shook his head. "John sent me the latest information about these 'tourists.' A large amount of money was placed into their joint bank account after Gordon disappeared. The coincidences are too great, Virge, these guys are guilty and I know they know where Gordon is."

"We'll soon find out," Alan said as he stopped the car on a leafy street. "We're here." The brothers stepped out of the car.

The apartment was in a fashionable part of the city. The area was known for its trendy cafes, beautiful people, and stylish architecture. Each of the brothers wore casual yet smart clothes. With guns concealed under their jackets they did not want to cause any unnecessary attention or alarm.

The police pulled up behind Alan's car parked a discreet distance away from the apartment, on the opposite side of the street. As planned, plain clothes police were to approach and detain the three. When the situation was properly contained, the Tracys had permission to ask questions and to secure any evidence.

Adrenalin still pumping from whizzing through the streets of Paris, Alan bounced on the balls of his feet. He wanted to go in first, and pin the bastards down. Scott laid a calming hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Patience," he murmured.

The police disappeared into the four storey building. It wasn't long before a few of the police returned; their faces grim, they quickly crossed to the blonde Capitaine and spoke to her at length.

After an agonising wait, Arceneau finally approached the Tracy brothers.

"There has been a shooting," she said simply. "Two of the alleged kidnappers, Mia and Piers Willoughby are dead. Their killer is the cousin, Maurice Kegworth."

"The cousin, is he still alive?" Scott asked, shocked.

The officer nodded. "He is but he..." She paused, struggling to find the right words, in the end she added, "You had better come with me."

The Tracys followed the Capitaine into the building and up the stairs to the second floor apartment.

As familiar as they were to sights of disasters and carnage, the sight of people dead still delivered a jolt. Apart from the rubbish that littered the floors and furniture, the apartment's white interior was splattered with blood. A girl lay slumped face down over a chaise lounge, only glimpses of pale green silk could be seen through the deep red that stained her dress. Her brother lay on the floor next to her, his head covered in blood from a single gunshot to the forehead.

Ominously, a gun lay on the blood flecked carpet next to the bodies.

Seeing the Tracys notice the gun still lying on the floor, Arceneau explained, "In a homicide, we don't want to move anything until forensics arrive." She showed the brothers into the kitchen.

A circle of police surrounded a man seated on a dining chair. They police parted as Arceneau and the Tracys arrived.

Maurice Kegworth, dressed in a cotton vest and shorts, clasped a wooden statue to his chest and was rocking back and forth. His half lidded eyes were dull, and his full lips dribbled with spit.

"He's mad," Alan breathed.

A young police woman looked to the senior officer, "He won't let go of the statue, Capitaine. He just keeps repeating the same words, 'the eyes, the eyes."

Arceneau turned to the Tracys. "It will be impossible to ask the man questions in his present state of mind. I'll call our doctor and hopefully we can sedate him and question him later."

The weariness of such a long plane journey, the fear for his brother, and now the agony of finding the only possible lead to Gordon, a man totally out of his head, pushed Alan over the edge.

With a cry of rage the young Tracy leapt at the stupefied Kegworth, shaking him vigorously, he yelled, "Where is my brother? Tell me, you bastard, where is my brother?"

Before the police could react, Scott and Virgil rushed forward to restrain Alan but not before the blonde Tracy had knocked the statue from Kegworth's arms. The statue dropped to the kitchen tiled floor with a heavy thud. All watched as, if in slow motion, the statue's head snapped off and something fat and slimy slid out of the statue's hollow neck.

Closest to the statue, Arceneau stepped away, her face twisted in disgust. "Ugh! It's a toad."

As the Tracys and the police stared at the broken statue and its gruesome contents, none noticed the sudden change in Keg's demeanour. It was as if a light had turned on in the man's head. The dull look in his eyes was replaced with one mixed with fear and pain. The man slumped over, placed his head in his hands and sobbed. "I killed them. I am so sorry. I couldn't help it. The statue made me do it."

Arceneau stood in front of the man, his crying making absolutely no impression on her cool manner. "Where is Gordon Tracy?"

Keg looked up at the woman; his face was red and his eyes swollen with tears. "I don't know!" he wailed.

Still held back by his brothers, Alan struggled to get closer to the sobbing man. "You took him; tell us where our brother is!"

Keg swung his head towards the Tracys. "He was your brother?"

Virgil answered, his voice deadly "Yes, goddamn you."

Keg sniffed. ""I killed my family. Piers and Mia were all I had. I couldn't help it. The statue made me do it." The man dissolved into tears once more.

Trying to control the urge to shake an answer out of the man, Scott tried a different tact. "I'm sorry about your family," With a quick questioning look to Arcenaeu, who nodded her consent, Scott released Alan's arm and crouched low towards Kegworth.

He kept his voice calm. "I know you were close. I'm very close to my brother as well. Gordon Tracy. I know you don't want him to be hurt like Piers and Mia."

Keg shook his head, his shoulders shuddered. "Yeah, sorry. " He mumbled before looking Scott square in the face and adding more strongly, "I'm sorry about your brother, he was a nice guy. We shouldn't have touched him. But we needed the money."

"There are other ways to get money, like getting a job," Alan growled.

Scott held up a hand, telling his younger brother to back off, before he concentrated on Keg once more. "Do you know where Gordon is now?"

Keg shook his head. "We just gather the items for the players, and Control sends another team to collect them."

Confused, Scott asked, "Items, players, control? What do you mean?"

Sighing, as a sudden weariness enveloped the chubby man, he replied, "its all part of the Game. We help the players hunt and gather items, items such as your brother, and the players compete against each other; whoever has the most items wins. Control is just that, he controls the game."

"It's a game." Virgil repeated his mouth tight with barely controlled anger.

Scott struggled to keep his emotions in check. "Where is my brother now?"

The man shrugged. "We passed the item...I mean Gordon Tracy to the recovery team, and they took him. I don't know where he is now, but Control does."

"Control! Who the hell is Control?" Alan shouted in frustration.

"We only receive his emails and phone calls. We have never met Control!" Keg's voice rose in equal frustration.

Scott gestured to the ugly scene just outside the kitchen. "Did Control do that? Did he make you kill your cousins through the statue?"

Keg's face crumpled into tears. "No...No, he wouldn't. I mean, I don't know."

The man bent over and sobbed into his hands.

Arceneau stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Scott's shoulder. "No more questions for now, Mr Tracy."

Reluctantly, Scott stood up. The Capitaine motioned for the Tracys to follow her into the lounge room.

"Kegworth mentioned emails. My guess is that one of them had a computer, and perhaps we could find a lead there, no?" Arceneau queried.

Scott nodded, his eyes searching before alighting on Mia's laptop on a table in a dark corner of the room. "There it is."

"Ah, wonderful. I will call the office and they will send someone who may be able to get the information out of the computer, such as an address or a name perhaps?" The Capitaine took out her phone.
Scott quickly pulled out a small black device from his pocket. "There is no need to call someone in; I have what we need here. I can plug this into the computer, and our people will be able to find the information over the internet link."

Arceneau smiled at Scott's resourcefulness. "Fantastic. But," she added. "The computer is evidence, so wear these." The woman presented Scott with latex gloves.

The Tracy pilot pulled them on and with his brothers in tow hurried over to the laptop. Grabbing a nearby chair, he sat down on it in front of the computer, took out his phone and made a call.

"Brains, I need your help."

Gordon struggled to reach the surface of the water. His limbs felt so heavy in the water, and it was hard to break through. Finally his thrashing hands felt the coolness of the air above, and he launched himself upwards.

The young man jerked forwards in his bed. The stifling bedclothes fell from his naked torso. Bewildered, he looked wildly around him. Nothing was familiar. In contrast to the stark whiteness of the room he last woke in, this room was like a dungeon in appearance. The windowless room was dark; a single low wattage lamp faintly glowed in a shadowy corner, and it was cold; the floor, ceiling and walls were of solid rock. Gordon shivered. As if it had been in a dream, the young Tracy recalled a woman telling him he would be back surfing in no time. Did she tell him that yesterday? Or was it the day before? What day was it now? Gordon instinctively looked to his wrist, and groaned out loud when he noticed his wrist-com was missing. Who took it and where the hell was he? Gordon held a hand to his still rather fragile head to try and stop the endless questions buzzing around in it.

Taking a fur coverlet from his bed, Gordon wrapped it around his bare shoulders. Tentatively, he swung his feet out of the bed and placed them on the hard floor. Geez! The young aquanaut quickly hauled them back up. It was freezing.

Determined to find out exactly where he was, Gordon stuck his feet firmly on the stone floor, and stood up. The young man gritted his teeth as tiny darts of ice travelled up his legs. Swaying slightly, he made his way to the room's wooden door.

Grasping his fur wrap with one hand Gordon tried the latch of the door with the other. It didn't budge. He tried again. The door held fast. Letting the fur fall to the floor, Gordon wrestled with both hands in trying to open the door. It rattled but wouldn't open. He tried calling out. There was no reply. Exhausted, Gordon let his body slide down onto the fur. Wherever he was, he was well and truly locked in. Tired and confused, a new emotion seeped into Gordon's senses, fear.

Chapter 11

Wearily, Scott rubbed his forehead with his hand as he said his goodbye to Brains. Setting the phone down on the table, he looked to his brothers.

"Sorry guys, he can't do it. We can't get a physical trace on the emails sent by Control."

"What?" Alan was fuming. "Surely, Brains can find out where this Control freak lives?"

"Control has some sophisticated IT arsenal up his sleeve. Brains thinks it will take days to get something. We don't have days."

Virgil started to pace. "What about the cousin over there? We can get the police to question him further and get some answers."

Alan's fists clenched. "I'll get some answers out of him."

Scott laid a hand on his younger brother's arm. "Easy, Al. I think Kegworth is too far gone emotionally to provide anymore answers tonight," he gestured to the tubby man who sat rocking back and forth in his chair as a man was preparing to inject a needle into him.

"That's it then. We're at a dead end." Alan's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Scott tightened his grip on Alan's arm. "We're not at a dead end, Alan, not by a long shot. John believes he is close to finding out the details of the plane which took Gordon."

"Close? Like a few days close or a couple of hours close?" Alan replied, his frustration clearly heard in his voice.

"That I can't say; other than looking for more clues, there is little more we can do in this apartment. It's been a long day, and I think we should catch a few hours sleep at the Tracy Corp apartment. I'm hoping that'll give John enough time to get some more information."

Virgil nodded in agreement but Alan, exhausted as he was, could not comprehend even a few hours rest while he knew Gordon was in trouble.

The blonde moved away from Scott's grasp and shook his head. "You two go to the apartment for a rest. I'll stay here with the police; they may find something we can't."

Scott sighed heavily. He didn't want to pull rank but he needed Alan with a clear head, and Alan with no sleep and running on pure adrenalin was not an option. "Not going to happen, Al. I don't want to have to order you to get some rest but I will do it. For Gordon's sake we need to be alert, and you can't possibly do that if you have no sleep."

His young face tensed as he prepared to battle his elder brother but the need to rest over ruled Alan's will to fight. "OK you win, big brother. But the instant John calls and has something, I'm going."

Virgil clapped a hand on Alan's shoulder. "We'll all go. Now give me the car keys, Alan. I haven't been on the go as long as you two have and I don't want you to fall asleep at the wheel."

With a little reluctance, as Alan hated not being in the driver's seat, the youngest Tracy handed the keys to Virgil. Scott grabbed his phone and they headed to speak to Capitaine Arceneau before leaving the apartment.

The Capitaine was overlooking the forensics team as they photographed the bodies.

"Did Kegworth say anything more?" Scott asked the blonde officer.

Arceneau shook her head. "He mumbled a few more times about the statue before we sedated him. We'll take him to the hospital tonight."

"Do you believe what he said about the statue making him do it?' Virgil questioned.

The woman shrugged. "Not sure. From what checking we did on the family before we arrived, they were very close. It could be, perhaps, a quarrel over money that got out of hand."

Scott nodded as he looked at the blood-soaked siblings. "I can't believe a statue caused someone to kill."

Arceneau turned to Scott, one of her eyebrows arched inquiringly. "You don't believe in voodoo, Scott?"

"No, he doesn't, and neither do we," Alan interrupted with a firm reply.

"Thank you, Alan," Scott presented his brother with a tight smile before addressing the officer. "I haven't experienced it to form a serious opinion, Capitaine. But do you think voodoo has something to do with Kegworth killing his cousins?"

Again, Arceneau replied with a shrug. "I have been involved with several cases that have been linked to voodoo, and certainly this case has some of the hallmarks," the blonde woman began before noticing the weariness in all the Tracys' faces. "But I will need to examine the details closely, and it will take some time. You, my young friends, look tired. We will be here for a while yet. I will contact you if we have any news."

The Tracys nodded their goodbyes, and started to head for the door. The Capitaine called after them, "Did you get the address of this Control person Kegworth spoke of?"

Scott shook his head slowly. "No, not yet. "

The officer smiled, her features' sympathetic. "I will see if we cannot track him down.
Go now, we will carry on."

The three Tracy brothers made their way to the car, and it was in a subdued silence that they drove through the French city streets to their apartment.

His voice hoarse from shouting to whoever may be on the other side of the heavy door, Gordon had eventually made his way back to his bed. The young man had a strong urge to cover himself in the blankets, go back to sleep and pray to God he would wake back in his island hut. He was that exhausted from the lack of food and water that sleep seemed a viable option. Gordon swore out loud, frustrated that sleeping was the only thing he seemed to be doing since he started his holiday.

Taking several deep breaths, Gordon lay back on the bed and forced himself to relax. Since he started to swim competitively, Gordon had learnt calming techniques that would keep nerves and fear at bay. When swimming, Gordon would concentrate on the black lines under the pool, it helped him to focus on winning. Now, with fear and anxiety nibbling at his senses, the young man's mind concentrated on the faces of his family, they kept him focused on escaping.

As the tenseness of his body slowly subsided, Gordon replayed in his mind the events that he could remember since the beginning of his holiday. It was pretty clear that he had been drugged and kidnapped. His wrist com was missing, and now that his head was clearer, he knew he hadn't cut himself on someone else's beer glass but had his chip removed, his hope of contacting his family lost.

Gordon presumed Mia, Piers and Keg had targeted him and were the kidnappers; what about the woman in the nurse's uniform? A member of their gang, perhaps? Was he still on the island or had they taken him elsewhere? Was he kidnapped for his dad's money? He could only guess that is what Mia and her family would want; he didn't think they knew about his connection to IR, however, his wrist com was missing, could they possibly know?

As Gordon's mind battled with the many scenarios to his capture, the door to his room slowly opened. A slight creak snapped the young man to attention, and he sat up quickly; he instantly regretted the sudden movement, it made his delicate head reel, and his eyes blur.

As his eyes re-focused, Gordon could see a short Asian man with glasses standing at the foot of his bed. Next to the small man was a giant. As broad as he was tall, this man held a powerful gun in his hands, and stood over Gordon with a stern face. The bespectacled man held a tray of food and a glass of water which he placed on Gordon's bed. He then clapped his hands; another man appeared, skinny and with bowed head, this man presented Gordon with clothing, and what appeared to be a commode. Gordon grimaced at that.

The first man smiled pleasantly at Gordon. "For your comfort, Mr Tracy."

Irritated at the man's sunny countenance, Gordon snarled, "If you cared about my comfort I wouldn't be here."

The man's smile did not waver. "You are my Master's guest and we would like you to be comfortable for your stay with us."

"My stay? Who are you and who is your Master? Is it Mia? Piers? Keg?" Gordon barked at the annoyingly calm man.

"I do not know these Mias or Kegs," the man frowned momentarily before his smile quickly returned. "My name is Li," Li gave a short bow and continued, "Master is known as the Master, and he is busy for the moment but will see you for dinner tonight."

"Tonight?" Gordon exploded and wildly gesticulated around the room. "This dungeon doesn't have a window, I don't even know if it's the morning! I demand to know why I am being kept here against my will!" The young man made to get out of his bed but the bear of a man quickly stepped forward and thrust the gun into Gordon's enraged face. Staring hard at the larger man with narrowed eyes, Gordon slowly backed down.

Li made a small clicking noise with his tongue. "There, there, Mr Tracy, you almost upset your food, and I know you must be hungry. Relax and enjoy the meal, and we will see you shortly." With that Li, his caveman companion and the thin man turned and left the room.

Gordon looked at his meal on the tray. The possibility of being drugged again wavered in his mind. The food did look good however; it appeared very similar to what Kyrano would cook. After debating whether to eat or not eat, Gordon's need for sustenance overwhelmed his fears and he took up the plastic knife and fork.

Chapter 12

The surface of the pool on this late afternoon was like a sheet of glass, not a breath of wind stirred the water. Jeff was so used to Gordon ploughing up and down the pool that it was strange to see it so still. With all the boys gone it was too quiet on the island.

There was many a time when Jeff would yearn for peace and quiet; as an astronaut he had spent many hours in the silence of space. All that changed as soon as he met Lucille. Lucille was used to noise and chaos. His wife was in her element when surrounded by the whirlwind that was her sons. After giving birth to three boisterous boys, Jeff had hoped to high heaven the next child would be a quiet contented girl; instead they were blessed with Gordon. Red headed and turbo charged Gordon Cooper Tracy. Never wanted to sleep, screamed blue murder if he wasn't where the action was. The list of Gordon's 'adventures' was long. He was the kid with the scraped knee, the one who would fall out of the tree trying to get the last apple, nearly drowning when he said he could swim at the age of two, painting his younger brother weekly with whatever was on hand, be it toothpaste or shoe polish, and never giving up whatever challenge he was set. And now...Jeff sighed. He could only pray his son wasn't giving up on his latest challenge.

The sudden ring of his office phone jolted Jeff out of his reflections. Quickly he crossed to his desk and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Is this Jeff Tracy, head of Tracy Corporation? " The voice was male and heavily accented.

"Yes, may I ask who is calling?"

"I cannot give you my name, Mr Tracy. My life, I fear, is in danger but I have been entrusted to give you something. Something that will help you find your son"

Jeff clicked his fingers furiously to catch the attention of Brains working at a computer nearby. Brains looked up. Jeff mouthed "Trace this" to the younger man, who nodded his head and quickly set to work.

"Gordon? Do you know where he is? Is he all right?"

"Your son, unfortunately, was the victim of a silly game, Mr Tracy. The man who made up the game, I believe, is no longer with us but he passed on to me some information about where you can locate your son."

"Yes, yes, go on," Jeff couldn't contain his impatience.

"I have already sent the information you require to your office in Paris. It is addressed to you
Mr Tracy. There is nothing more I can add other than I am sorry for your loss."

The line was disconnected.

Brains groaned in dismay at his desk. "C...couldn't get a tr...trace on it, Mr Tracy."

Jeff's mind was already racing ahead; he pushed a button to hail Scott's wrist com. "No matter, Brains. We have to get whatever the caller has sent to us in France."

Nearby on the wall, Scott's portrait faded into black and was replaced by the extreme close up vision of a bleary eyed Scott. He may have looked tired but his voice was alert. "Dad?"

"Scott, I received a call not five minutes ago. I need you to get to the Paris office ASAP. There should be an envelope addressed to me, apparently it contains information on Gordon's whereabouts."

"Gordon? Where's Gordon?" Alan's sleepy voice could be heard in the background.

"What if it is a hoax or a trap, Dad? A bomb wouldn't be impossible," Scott replied.

Slightly irritated, Jeff gritted his teeth. The need to find out whatever was in the envelope was overwhelming. "I want you to get to the office, Scott, now and to assess the situation when you get there."

Scott nodded. "FAB, Father. I'll brief you as soon as we have reached the office."

The morning had been quiet in the Tracy Corporation Parisian Office, with no meetings or visitors scheduled. The pretty red headed receptionist, Ines, was busy rearranging a vase of Tiger lilies when the glass front doors slid open. Thinking it was the arrival of a courier; the girl did not look up from her task immediately but was startled when she did so. Three tall young men stood at her desk. Ines felt her face redden; the men were very good-looking.

"Can I help you?" The girl asked.

The young man with the large brown eyes responded in flawless French albeit with an American accent, "Yes. We, that is, my brothers and I, are looking for an envelope. It's marked to Jeff Tracy."

The receptionist noted the man's accent and asked in English. "And you are?"

The man looked to his brothers at his side, the one with the dreamy blue eyes and dark wavy hair gave a curt nod in reply. The first man reached into his jeans pocket and produced a leather wallet. He took out a plastic card and handed it the girl. Ines looked at the photograph on the ID card and almost fell to the floor. Virgil Tracy! A real life Tracy in her office. No, not one Tracy but three! And they were so young and handsome, just wait till she told Emilie in Accounts.

Ines must have stood there for awhile with her mouth open, for the youngest looking man with the blonde hair fairly snarled at her when he said, "Could you get the letter now, please."

Ines jumped to attention, "Oh, I'm sorry. I usually put the letters addressed to Mr Tracy in the out box," the receptionist turned from the men and looked to two trays atop a slender bench behind her. She rummaged through the outbox tray piled high with letters. "There are several addressed to Mr Jeff Tracy." The girl placed three envelopes in front of the men.

One was from a company offering corporate seminars on motivation, another from a local engineering firm, and the third had no return address. Ines watched as Virgil picked up the third envelope and very gently shook it. Something rattled inside.

"That letter arrived this morning," Ines told them.

The men did not reply but examined the envelope closely. Seeing the intense looks on the men's faces as they studied the item, Ines became worried and took a step back from the receptionist desk. "Is there something wrong?" She asked nervously.

Taking his eyes from the envelope, Virgil gave the girl a dazzling smile and shook his head. "No, we'll take the envelope and be on our way. If you have any questions just ring head office, Okay?"

Still stunned by the smile, Ines managed a weak nod and half a wave as the men quickly exited the building. As soon as they had gone, the girl grabbed the phone.

"Emilie! You wouldn't believe who just came through the door!"

"What do you think?" Scott asked his brother as they stood on the pavement outside the office building.

Virgil held the envelope up to the light and tried to guess what was inside. "It's small, squarish..."

"Oh, come on!" Alan grabbed the envelope from his brother's hand and ripped it open. "And it's a memory stick."

Scott frowned at his brother's hastiness. 'Al..."

Alan held up a hand interrupting his elder brother. "I know, I know. Could I get the lecture later, Scott? I just want to get to a computer and plug this thing in."

Virgil noting anger rising in Scott's narrowed eyes quickly took the stick back from his blonde brother. "Alan, you have to have patience, we didn't know for sure what was in the envelope; you're right though we had better get to a computer."

Scott nodded at Virgil, and led the way to the car parked nearby.

It took a moment before Scott could digest everything he had read from the memory stick on the computer. His brothers were as equally quiet as they absorbed the information.

Alan broke the silence, his voice bitter. "It was a game. Gordon was kidnapped as part of a twisted millionaires' scavenger hunt. He was an item hunted, collected and then shipped off as stolen goods."

Scott closed the laptop. "It seems so, Al. At least now we know why Gordon was targeted, and even though we don't have any names of individuals, we now know where he was taken."

Virgil stood up from his chair and started to pace the apartment's lounge room. "Taken miles from here, an island in Malaysia. So much time wasted just criss-crossing the goddamn globe!"

Scott shared his younger brother's frustration. The pressure of the last few days was building up in each of the Tracys, and they were reaching boiling point. The thought of another long flight with no way of knowing whether Gordon would be found, was daunting. Scott knew, however, that they would endure crossing the world thousands of times if it meant they could find Gordon.

"Let's get going," Scott stood up from his chair. "I'll contact Dad and tell him we're on our way out of France. He would have seen the information from the memory stick by now, and we will need to details on where we go from here."

"Surely, we're flying straight to Malaysia?" Alan questioned.

'Oh, we're going to Malaysia, Alan. But we need to be prepared. I want to get Gordon but I also want to get the SOBs who took him," Scott's voice was steely in reply.

Gordon sat huddled on his bed in the semi darkness of his room. His eyes had travelled over every corner and angle of his prison, seeking ways to break out. The only opening, besides the door, to the outside world was a vent. Positioned above the door, it was too high and too narrow for Gordon to even contemplate using it as a means of escape.

No one had entered the room for what must have been hours since he received the tray of food. Gordon had put on the clothes offered; a white pair of cotton trousers, and a matching white cotton shirt several sizes too large, it hung loosely off his broad shoulders. The lack of activity started to niggle at the young aquanaut, and frustration was beginning to replace the initial fear he had felt. Several times he had paced out the room, and had called out. The silence was excruciating. The stone walls must be thick, as no sound penetrated the room.

He must have eventually dozed off, as he didn't hear the door open and someone enter the room until they were leaning over him on the bed. Gordon sat up with a gasp. It was the three men he had encountered earlier. The thin man took up the tray, bowed and scuttled out. Li stood and watched Gordon with that damn irritating expression, and the big Meat-head pointed the gun in the young man's face.

"It is time for you to meet the Master, Mr Gordon Tracy," Li said and gestured to his large companion.

With one hand still holding the weapon, the guard reached out with his other and yanked Gordon to his feet. Gordon winced at the man's vice-like grip.

"Hey, watch the..."

Gordon didn't finish his sentence as the guard swung the gun and slammed it into the young man's mouth. Gordon's head snapped back and he felt himself fall to the floor, blood welling in his mouth.

The guard's grip kept Gordon upright, however, and the aquanaut was propelled, stumbling, from the room.

"We will not tolerate the prisoner talking out of hand," Li rapped as he followed the guard and a disorientated Gordon out into the corridor.

Half dazed as he was, and shocked from the sudden show of violence, Gordon tried to focus on his surroundings. The corridor he was manhandled through was lit by torches, and appeared to be of the same stone as his room. A couple of times he stumbled to his knees only to be jerked to his feet by the thug with the gun. Eventually, they reached a large cavern-like area, also lit by dimmed lights, and a blazing fire in a hearth in one of the walls. Gordon was forced to sit in a crude wooden chair that faced a stone altar. Leather straps were tightened across his wrists, ankles, and chest, even his head was held into place by a painfully tight strap across his forehead.

The guard retreated back into the shadows of the room, and after testing the tightness of the young man's bonds, Li also disappeared, leaving Gordon alone in the room. A dark shadow loomed large in the doorway to the room, a robe of jewels glinting in the firelight.

Chapter 13

"Okay, son. Safe journey." Jeff ended his call to Scott, and turned to Brains who sat at a nearby desk, in front of a computer.

"The boys are leaving France, and are coming home. If the information on the memory stick is correct, and Gordon was taken to an island in Malaysia, then we need to prepare our next move carefully. I don't want to take any unnecessary risks."

Brains nodded in agreement. "I h...have looked at the island on satellite ph...photos, M...Mr Tracy, and there s...seems to be an air s...strip. N...not m...much else, I...I'm afraid."

Jeff walked over to the computer Brains was working on and studied the image of the island. Brains was right. The island was covered in dense jungle; a strip of cleared land near the beach did appear to be an airstrip. Jeff pointed to a darker mass in the centre of the island. "What do you think that is?"

Brains enlarged the image and an outline of a stone building came into focus. "S...somebody does live th...there."

Jeff narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on the image. "It looks to be roughly a kilometre from the airstrip. Can you work out the exact distances for me, Brains? And see if there is anything else on the island. I don't want to send the boys into a trap."

Brains returned to study the satellite image, and Jeff was back at his desk, nodding to Kyrano who had entered the room with refreshments, when John's portrait lit up, and the young astronaut appeared on the screen.

"Dad, Scott briefed me about what happened to Gordon."

Jeff nodded gravely. "A game played by wealthy individuals with too much money, and very little brain matter."

"Well, another one of the players of the game is dead."

Jeff leaned forward eager to know more. "Really? Who? Where?"

"I've just been listening to a police report from another part of France. The report is saying a man in his forties has been found dead in the doorway to his home, a Chateau around a day's drive from Paris. He had shot himself in the head."

"How is he connected to the game?" Jeff asked.

"They found a wooden statue next to him. Exactly like the one found in the apartment of the Willoughby siblings. The one the murderer claimed had 'made him' shoot his friends "

"Do you think he was a gatherer of items like the Willoughbys?"

John shook his head. "I don't know, Dad, but the reports say he was wealthy and his house contained a lot of expensive IT equipment. I have a feeling he was one of the main players, if not the actual controller of the game."

"Anything else came through from the Police reports? His name, perhaps?"

Again John shook his head. "They have literally only just stepped into the Chateau, and looked around. I'll keep you posted."

"Right John, keep up the good work."

"FAB"

The portrait darkened.

"W...wooden st...statue? What d...do...you think, M...Mr Tracy?" Brains queried.

His head bowed briefly in thought, Jeff raised his head to look at his friend. "Another mystery, Brains, and another piece of the puzzle we'll have to work out."

Kyrano who had just finished providing Jeff with coffee, and Brains with tea, shook his head, his features were creased with concern.

"Statues can only mean bad magic, Mr Tracy. Evil is working within them. I knew of a man long ago who used statues to control people and their thoughts." Kyrano's thoughts briefly flashed to the memory of a sadistic grin on his brother's face as he forced an old man to march on the spot until the man nearly died of exhaustion. The man was staring at the glowing eyes of a wooden statue held in his brother's outstretched arms.

"Really?" Jeff's eyebrows rose in interest. "Who was this man?"

Not daring to say it was his own flesh and blood, Kyrano spluttered. "Th...the man, Mr Tracy?"

"Yes, the man. The man you said used statues to control people, who was he?"

Kyrano was startled for a moment, searching for an answer before replying, "The man was someone I knew a long time ago, when I was but a child. After my father died, and I left my village, I never saw him again. His name I do not recall, it has been many years. "

Studying Kyrano's face for a few seconds, Jeff frowned. Kyrano's breathing quickened, expecting the man to discount his words but Mr Tracy merely nodded.

Kyrano managed a weak smile and nodded in return as he turned for the door. Jeff's voice stopped him. "I'd like you to find out some more information if you could, Kyrano, on this man. Who knows, he may have imparted his evil ways onto someone else."

Kyrano turned to look at Jeff. "Ofcourse, Mr Tracy. I'll see what I can do."

Kyrano promptly left the room.

Much later, Gordon woke in the dim light of his room. His head was pounding with pain. The young man was also extremely thirsty. With difficulty, as his body also ached, Gordon raised up on his elbows to look for water. Surprisingly, a hand appeared and gently directed his head towards a glass. Gordon sipped the cool liquid gratefully, and eased himself back onto the bed. Through swollen eyes, Gordon could see the thin man standing by his bed.

"My Master hurt Mr Tracy?"

Gordon nodded briefly.

The man clicked his tongue in sympathy. "We are prisoners here also, Mr Tracy. My brothers and I were taken by the Master and Mr Li."

"Why... don't you... escape?" Gordon could barely manage a whisper.

The man tapped at his head with a bony finger. "Master uses magic. He steals your mind. Mr Tracy, you must be strong or Master will poison your head."

A sudden knock caused the thin man to quickly withdraw. A flicker of light streamed into the room as the man opened the door only for it to plunge into gloom once more as the door closed behind the man's retreating figure.

Feeling light-headed and slightly nauseous, Gordon closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened when he was held captive in the large room. The young man could only summon feelings, feelings of absolute terror, anger, and finally resignation. Yet he could also recall a voice. An insidious voice that slithered into his head and wrapped itself like a serpent around his mind. Gordon shuddered, and focused instead on escape, on the faces of his family welcoming him home, and on the black lines in the pool as he swam up and down, up and down.

Li and the heavy-set guard came for him again, and dragged him back into the other room. Gordon was so weak they didn't need to strap him into the chair. The evil presence emerged from the shadows once more, and the young man was aware of someone cutting his arm and letting his blood flow into a bowl. A metal medallion swinging on a silver chain was dipped into the blood before it was placed over Gordon's head. He could feel the coldness of it as it touched his bare skin. Blood was then daubed on Gordon's forehead before a big black bird swooped into his mind and claimed his senses.

He woke back in his bed; again he was thirsty and ill. This time, there was no welcoming hand directing him to water. He scanned the room for something to quench his thirst. A pitcher and glass rested on a table several feet away from the bed. Sighing deeply, as he knew it would take an effort; he wrenched his hurting body out of the bed, and staggered to the table. Pouring the water into the glass, the young man gulped it down. As he raised his arm to drink he noticed a grubby bandage on his forearm . Gordon peeled the bandage back and saw he had been cut. Blood still oozed from the gash. He vaguely remembered his arm had been slashed, and a medallion placed around his neck. He still wore the medallion; he could feel the icy touch of metal against his chest.

It took another two glasses of water before he felt well enough to push his body back to the bed. As he settled onto the mattress, Gordon picked up the coin-shaped medallion and studied it closely. It was crusted with dried blood; Gordon scraped the surface of the medallion to reveal a large eye engraved in the middle of it. As he stared at the eye, it began to glow red. Alarmed, Gordon tried to yank the medallion off. He found he couldn't raise it past his chin. He then tried to tug it off his neck. The medallion would not come off; with a frustrated cry, he fell back onto his bed.

The medallion still glowed, and it felt warm against his skin. Without knowing why, the young man picked up the medallion and turned the eye towards his face. The serpent tightened its coils as the voice started to whisper into his mind.

Chapter 14

Li looked on as the Master scanned the sky with narrowed eyes. There was a slight hum in the air.

Li and the Master stood at the entrance to the maze of caverns that had been their base for many months. The bald headed man smiled slightly, and nodded to Li. "I can sense Mr Tracy's family arriving soon, which is as planned. Make sure they find the boy and get him out before you destroy the buildings. I don't want any other survivors. "

Li bowed as he watched the powerful man stride towards a waiting jeep. Quickly, he snapped out orders to the men standing nearby, there was no time to lose.

It was drizzling rain on the jungle island as Virgil slapped down in the dirt next to his brothers. Hidden behind a log, Scott scanned the area with binoculars.

"The entrance to the building is down there," Scott pointed. Virgil risked a look over the log.

"No activity. It's very quiet, what do you think?"

Alan took out his gun, and checked it. "I say we go in and surprise them. There's no way they know we're here. The cloaking device on TB2 would have made sure of that."

Scott bit his lip in thought. "We can't be too sure, Al. We don't know what Gordon's kidnappers are capable of. We'll wait till its dark and then make our move."

Alan was about to argue but a warning glance from Virgil killed his reply, and he slipped his gun back into its halter. "FAB, Scott."

The Tracys didn't have to wait long before night settled on the island, and Scott gave the order to proceed. The brothers were dressed in black fatigues; Alan's blond hair was covered by a black beanie. To see their way through the blackness of the jungle, each of them wore special glasses with infra-red lenses. Guns ready, the brothers made their way stealthily to the entrance of the kidnappers' base.

Signalling for his brothers to stay put behind a large shipping container, Scott scouted ahead to see if the path was clear to continue into the building. He soon returned.

"There is no one I can see. No guards, workers, nothing. I don't like it. It feels like a trap."

Alan slumped back onto the container and flipped up his glasses. "What do we do then? Should we risk it? It may be a trap but I know Gordon is in there."

Virgil made no comment but he looked to his elder brother. He was torn between two emotions, the need to play safe and the need to storm in and rescue Gordon.

Scott paused in thought. They were so close to finding Gordon. It was just strange that there appeared to be no one about. Another possibility for the building's apparent emptiness, it was abandoned, and Gordon had been taken to another destination.

As if reading his elder brother's thoughts, Virgil spoke up. "John has been monitoring the island, there has been no one leaving it by sea or air since we found out Gordon was being held here."

"It's not to say he wasn't spirited away much earlier," Scott remarked.

Alan shook his head. "No, no. Gordon is here, guys. I know he's here."

Scott raised his wrist-com to his mouth. "John, do you copy?"

"FAB, Scott. What's your current position?"

"We have reached the entrance to kidnappers' base. There doesn't seem to be anyone about. I need you to see if you can find any signs of life in the building."

"Will do, Scott. Just give me a moment."

There was a momentary pause before John's voice came back through the wrist-com. "That's a negative, Scott. The walls of the building are too thick for any of our technology to penetrate."

"FAB, John. Will contact you when we need you."

"FAB, Scott, good luck."

Scott made his decision. "Right, we're going in," he gave his brothers a curt nod. "Tread carefully, and watch your backs."

"FAB" Virgil and Alan replied in unison before following Scott into the building.

Sticking to the shadows of the walls, the brothers made their way through a rabbit warren of corridors and rooms. There was an eerie silence throughout the building, and they were acutely aware of the noise their footfalls made on the hard floor. Whoever had been in residence didn't live in comfort. There was hardly any furniture, no windows, and only faint lighting from feeble torchlight in the corridors. One room they stumbled across was in marked contrast to the sparseness of the rest of the building's interior. It contained a huge bed, thick fur rugs on the floor, and a mirror. On a side table sat a large fruit platter, with a half glass of red wine next to it. Virgil hazarded a guess it was the room of whoever was in charge of the operation.

Moving out of the room, the young men made their way down another corridor. After inspecting several more empty rooms they came across a closed wooden door.

Lifting his glasses to the top of his head, Alan tried opening the door, and found it locked. He turned to his brothers who had also taken their glasses off. "What do you think? Is there something in there we aren't supposed to see?"

"We have to get it open, Gordon could be in there." Scott tried to ram the door open with his shoulder with no success.

"Alan, you keep a look out, Virgil, I need your help." Scott and Virgil both shoulder charged the door with tremendous force. The door gave way with a crash. Grasping hands reached out and caught the two Tracys as they half fell into a room that was cold and dark. With one hand, Alan pulled Scott, who was nearest to him, back out of the room, while training his gun on the cluster of men who surrounded Virgil. Regaining his composure, Scott backed up Alan with his gun, and slowly forced the men to retreat into the gloomy darkness of the room.

Virgil, noting the half starved appearance of the men, holstered his gun, and raised his hands. "We don't want to hurt you. We are here to find our brother, Gordon Tracy."

A thin man approached Virgil tentatively, his wide brown eyes aware of the guns Scott and Alan still pointed in his direction. "I know of your brother, Gordon Tracy. He is a prisoner like us."

"You're prisoners?" Alan asked.

The man nodded. "I am Shu. The Master's men captured me and my friends from our island and brought us here. We have not seen our families for a long time."

"The Master, who is he?" Virgil questioned.

"He is a demon who infects peoples' minds. You are not safe here. You must find your brother and leave."

"Where is our brother?" Scott asked.

"Set my friends free, and I will show you to your brother."

The Tracys looked at each other briefly before Scott replied, "We'll let your friends go, but you will be our prisoner until we find our brother safe and well."

The man nodded and bowed, "I will gladly go with you." Shu turned to his companions and spoke rapidly to them in another language, before the men filed out of the room and shuffled down the corridor.

Shu looked to the Tracys. "I will take you to your brother, hurry, we don't have much time. I know the Master will soon destroy this building and everything in it."

The brothers followed Shu through a seemingly endless network of corridors. Finally, they reached another wooden door. The door was not locked, and Shu opened it.

Like the other room it was icy cold and the light was dim. A bed was in the centre of the room, and a person lay unmoving on it. Alan entered first and seeing a familiar shade of coppery hair ran to the bed and gathered his brother up in his arms.

"Gordon! We found you. You're safe, Gordon," he cried.

Gordon didn't respond. His body was cold and rigid. Shocked, Alan pulled away from his brother and looked at Gordon's pale face. "Gordon!" He gasped. "Scott...is he?"

Scott rushed to the bed and took up one of Gordon's hands. He felt a pulse but it was sluggish. He also noticed a blood-drenched bandage around Gordon's arm. "Come on, help me bundle him up in some warm blankets. We have to get him back to TB2."

As the brothers gathered the blankets around Gordon and prepared to take him out of the room, they didn't notice Shu slip quietly away.

Alan led the way out of the room as Scott holding Gordon's upper body, and Virgil his lower, followed him out. A sudden explosion rocked the Tracys as they made their way through the building.

"What the hell?" Alan paused midstride, stunned by the blast.

"Keep moving, Al," Scott called out from behind the youngest Tracy. "We could all be trapped here, Shu was right, someone is trying to destroy this place!"

Hoping he remembered the way out, Alan led at a steady pace. From behind them, they heard more explosions and the sound of falling rock. The blasts seemed to get closer. Alan could hear the noises of the jungle grow louder until he finally led them out of the building. Another massive explosion thundered through the building at their backs, and the Tracys were forced to shelter behind the shipping container.

The explosions stopped briefly, and the Tracys took the opportunity to escape into the jungle and head for TB2.

Chapter 15

Thunderbird 2's engines thrust into life and she lifted into the air. The jungle island below was ablaze. Huge exploding fireballs rocketed into the night sky. Virgil had to manoeuvre the aircraft several times to dodge projectiles of concrete and rock.

Once the Tracys reached a safe distance away from the island, Scott unbuckled his seatbelt and went to check on Gordon who was strapped into one of TB2's medical beds. The eldest Tracy worked quickly, stabilising his brother with a saline drip, and cleaning and redressing Gordon's bloody arm wound. While he worked on Gordon, he noticed the strange medallion around his brother's neck. Scott reached to take it off his brother but a strong grip stopped him.

Scott looked down and saw it was Gordon's hand which held him. Surprised at his brother's unusual show of strength, Scott looked to his brother's face. Two amber eyes were open and watching him.

"Hey, Gordon. How're you doing, buddy?"

Gordon's hand loosened its grip and fell to his side. The eyes slid shut.

Alan appeared behind Scott. "Is he awake?"

Scott shook his head. "No, not now but he did wake briefly."

The blonde pointed to the medallion around Gordon's neck. "What's that?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know, I tried to take it off but he stopped me."

"Stopped you, how?"

"He grabbed my hand and stopped me."

"Probably just an automatic reflex. He may not yet realise he has been rescued, and thinks you are one of the bad guys."

Studying his sleeping brother's features for a moment, Scott nodded. "Yeah, you could be right. Do you want to sit here for awhile and watch him, or shall I take first shift?"

Alan sat down on a bench near the bed. "Nope, I'll do it. Don't want to shock him with your scruffy facial hair when he wakes up."

Scott touched the bristles on his chin. "At least I can grow a beard."

A loud guffaw came from the cockpit. "Good one, Scott" Virgil called out.

Scott couldn't suppress a chuckle, and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he stood to leave. "Seriously though, yell if there is any change. I'm going to tell Dad the good news."

Jeff gave Brains a hearty slap on the back once he had spoken to Scott on TB2. He couldn't contain his joy that all his boys were safe, and Gordon was on his way home.

"It was close though," Jeff remarked. "The bastard who took Gordon decided to blow the island sky high. We could have lost all of them."

"S...so do they kn...know who t...took Gordon, Mr Tracy?"

"Didn't have time to find out, when they grabbed Gordon the place was already falling to pieces. John confirmed the explosions on the island were fairly damaging. If IR was in operation we would be out there looking for survivors. John contacted the area's local military force and they are now overseeing the rescue operations. He is also going to listen in to see if they mention anything that might lead us to the kidnappers."

Brains nodded in reply and collapsed into a chair next to Jeff. The tension he had been feeling for days was suddenly dissolving. "I...I know we didn't g...get the p...person behind G...Gordon's kidnapping but he is s...safe and well. Safe and w...ell." The man repeated with a small smile.

"We know he is safe but we don't know about well. I can't imagine what he has been through in the time he has been missing," Jeff took up his phone and pressed a number on the speed dial. "I want to get Dr Porter here after TB2 arrives to check Gordon over."

Brains stood up from the chair. "I...I'll help K...Kyrano prepare G...Gordon's room, Mr T...Tracy."

Jeff nodded as Brains left the room.

Dr Porter quietly exited Gordon's room and walked over to the Tracys and Brains who waited in the hallway outside.

The Doctor took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before beginning to speak. "Physically, Gordon is fair. He has been beaten, there is bruising on his torso and face. He has been cut on his back and arm. I've cleaned the cuts and applied fresh bandages; thankfully, the cuts don't look infected. He was dehydrated, and I'd say he hasn't seen a decent meal for a couple of days. I took a blood sample to see what drugs are in his system, and I'll have the results of those by tomorrow. In the meantime, he needs rest and fluids. Give him solids if he feels up to it, something plain and simple to begin with. If he starts to vomit, complains of severe headaches, stomach pain, anything out of the ordinary get him to a mainland hospital asap." The doctor's final words were stern.

Jeff nodded. "We understand, Doctor. "

Doctor Porter replaced his glasses. "He has been through a pretty tough ordeal. I know your boys are made of strong stuff, Jeff, but I don't want to guess what mental torture he has endured. I'll give you the number of a counsellor I can highly recommend."

"Thanks Doctor, I'd appreciate it," Jeff replied and added, " Is there anything else we should know before we take you back to the mainland?"

The doctor shook his head. "No, nothing more, other than I believe Gordon shouldn't be by himself for long, he may need a reassuring face when he wakes up."

Alan made to go into the room. "I'll sit by him, Dad."

Virgil stepped in front of Alan. "Please, could I sit with him first Al? I need to make amends."

Puzzled by Virgil's words but noting the heartfelt emotion in his brother's voice, Alan stood back and allowed him to enter the room.

"Come through to the kitchen, Doctor. I'll make you a coffee before you go." Jeff ushered the Doctor towards the kitchen, Brains, Scott and Alan followed.

Hovering in the shadows of the hallway, Kyrano now approached the closed door to Gordon's room. When he had helped bring Gordon into his room, Kyrano had noticed the strange medallion around the young man's neck. When Kyrano saw the eye on the medallion, he had almost let out a cry of horror. It had been a long time since he had seen such a symbol, and it was one he had hoped he would never see again. Pressing his hands to the door, Kyrano closed his eyes and concentrated. A savage howl of laughter smashed into his head and Kyrano jumped back from the door in shock. Trembling, the man pressed the button to open the sliding door.

Virgil sat with head bowed over a book in the muted lamplight next to a sleeping Gordon. Virgil looked up as Kyrano nervously approached the bed. Kyrano winced. As he grew closer to Gordon, a chant of many voices grew louder in his head.

"Kyrano, is there something you need?" Virgil's voice was soft.

"I can watch your brother for a while if you need to take a break, Mr Virgil"

Virgil smiled and shook his head. "No, that's okay, Kyrano. I have two other brothers and a Dad lining up for duty. You already have so much else to do."

Kyrano's smile was tight in reply. The chant in his head grew louder and became a horrendous, howling chorus.

Kyrano's eyes winced at the pain of the many voices in his head, and he reached out towards Gordon to stop them. The young man stirred and moaned, his body restless on the bed.

Virgil's hand clamped down on Kyrano's. "I really think he needs his rest, Kyrano, he'll wake in his own good time."

Shaking his head slightly to rid his head of the hated noise, Kyrano mumbled his apologies and fled the room. Virgil looked after him, puzzled by the man's strange behaviour. He noticed that Gordon had settled once more, and so after checking his brother was comfortable, Virgil resumed reading his book.

On an island in the South China Sea, a temple stood at the base of a dormant volcano. The temple, elaborately carved to honour a goddess of war, was lit by torchlight. Inside, gathered around a black marble altar, a hum of voices rose in unison as a man, his bald head gleaming from the blaze of torch fire, chanted over a bowl of blood. The man lifted his arms towards the temple's ceiling and called on the Gods to favour him. In his hand he held a medallion with an eye carved in the centre. Plunging the pendant into the bowl, the man drew it out and it dripped crimson red in the fire light. The man placed the medallion over his head, closed his eyes and fell back onto an intricately sculpted throne. The voices in the temple became a loud wail.

The exhaustion from the last few days soon caught up with Virgil and his book slipped to the floor with a dull thud as he slumped in the chair, asleep.

The medallion on Gordon's chest began to glow red. Two amber eyes opened, and the young man sat up in the bed. He looked to the dark haired man sleeping in the chair next to him and smiled.

Chapter 16

Alan and Scott sat at the kitchen's island bench mulling over cups of coffee. Both were tired yet still had to work the excitement of the last hours out of their system. Their dad and Brains had taken Dr Porter back to the mainland in the Tracy jet, so the two brothers were discussing the possible identity of Gordon's kidnapper.

Alan rose from his stool and went to the sink to rinse out the contents of his cup. "I know I'll never give up looking for whoever took Gordon. They are a threat to all of us, and I sure don't want to be looking over my shoulder every time I go racing or on a holiday."

"Dad might get a bit edgy every time we ask for a holiday, after what happened to Gordo," Scott replied.

"Yeah, so it's doubly important we catch the creep who took him."

Scott looked to the kitchen clock on the wall. "Better go and relieve Virgil, he may need a break."

Both Tracys made their way to Gordon's room. Scott knocked softly before entering the semi-dark room. Virgil was nowhere to be seen. Alan approached the wrapped-up figure in the bed, and gave out a cry of alarm.

Alan whipped back the blankets to reveal Virgil trussed up in a torn sheet, a darkening bruise over one side of his face. Quickly, Alan and Scott worked together to free their brother.

Virgil groaned as his limbs were freed but the young man didn't regain consciousness. Scott checked his vital signs.

"His pulse is strong. He should be okay."

Alan raced around the room checking for any sign of Gordon. "Do you think Gordon did that to Virgil?"

"He can't have. Gordon wouldn't have the strength of a kitten. Someone must have breached the island's security, attacked Virgil, and taken Gordon. " Scott made sure Virgil's airways were clear, before standing straight and pulling his youngest brother into the hallway.

"We have to find Gordon. Whoever took him can't be too far away. I'd hazard a guess they'd be heading for the runway; if we take the lift down to 2's hangar we could cut them off." Scott and Alan ran in the direction of the Thunderbirds.

The two men had stepped out of the lift when an arm suddenly shot out of the shadows and grasped Alan around the neck. The young blonde man yelped in surprise as a sharp knife was pressed to his throat.

Scott stumbled backwards in shock. Gordon held the knife. His eyes blazed, and his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

"Gordon! W...what's wrong? It's us, pal, Scott and Alan." The eldest Tracy raised his hands in the air, trying to calm his brother down.

"I know who you are, Scott Tracy," A vicious sneering voice came out of Gordon's mouth, any traces of his amiable brother barely visible in the man that held the knife to Alan's throat.

Alan struggled against his brother's powerful hold. The more he struggled the deeper the knife cut his skin. Blood started to trickle down his throat and onto Gordon's arm. "I'd cease moving, Alan Tracy, otherwise you'll be a bloody mess on the floor."

Alan stopped his struggles.

Gordon smiled, and edged Alan towards the sealed door that opened to the hangars. "I want you boys to help me. I want to know everything about your secret organisation and then I want you to help me destroy it."

Anger fired up in Scott. "Gordon, what the hell are you doing? We're your brothers!"

Gordon sighed and spoke slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. "Gordon is no longer here, Scott Tracy. I am in control, and I demand you provide me with all your technology, otherwise your brother will die." Alan grunted as the knife pushed into his throat.

"Who are you?" Scott's cry was exasperated. He was so used to having his brothers take his commands with little or no questions that he was finding it difficult to handle that Gordon would openly defy him, brainwashed or not.

"I am your new Master, Scott Tracy. Now, shall we proceed?"

Seeing the growing fear on Alan's face as blood dripped from the knife cutting into his neck, Scott turned to the number pad on the wall, and punched in the code to open the door.

The door started to open with a long hiss when a sudden war-like cry reverberated in the air, and a body crash tackled Gordon and Alan to the floor. The knife fell from Gordon's grasp and clattered out of his reach. Alan wrenched himself away from his brother, and watched from a safe distance, as Scott joined Kyrano in pinning the young man to the ground.

His chest heaving, Alan clambered to his feet and felt his neck. The cut wasn't deep, and he soon helped the other two men in quelling Gordon's thrashing limbs.

Gordon was yelling. "Get off me, you fools! How dare you touch me! You have no idea who you are dealing with!"

Instantly recognising the voice, Kyrano shouted at Scott and Alan. "Hold him still for me. I know what has taken possession of your brother's mind, and I will free him."

Shocked by Kyrano's sudden show of strength, the Tracys quickly obeyed the man and held Gordon's body still.

Kyrano sat on the young man's chest and placed his hands on the sides of Gordon's head. Gordon laughed out loud and spat in Kyrano's face. Kyrano calmly wiped the spittle off his cheek and resumed holding his hands to the aquanaut's temples.

"You are a worthless little man, Kyrano. I took everything off you before and I will do it again." Gordon's features were savage as he sneered at Kyrano. Kyrano didn't flinch but exerted more pressure on Gordon's head with his hands.

"You can't save this boy. He is gone. His body is a shell and is useless without me!"

This time Kyrano did react but it was to pull the metal medallion from Gordon's neck with one sharp tug. He threw the medallion on the floor, where it lay discarded, no longer glowing. Kyrano then replaced his hands against the sides of Gordon's head.

Gordon's features twisted into a snarl. "That will not help you. I have no need of that device now. The Tracy boy is mine, body and soul."

Bewildered, Scott looked to Alan across Gordon's body. Alan returned his confused look and clamped down harder on Gordon's struggling body.

Kyrano started to sing in a language foreign to the Tracys. The young men watched as the manservant's eyes closed and his head lowered till it almost touched Gordon's. Gordon gave out a wail of indignation before his eyes too closed, and his body tensed.

In a dry treeless plain, Kyrano called out to Gordon Tracy. Kyrano's half brother stood in his way, his hard evil stare emphasized by thick black eyebrows, and a stony chiselled face. A large snake coiled itself around his brother's feet, and hissed as Kyrano approached. Singing the song his mother taught him as a child, Kyrano calmly walked past his brother and continued his search for Gordon. He found the young man swimming laps in a sapphire blue pool. Kyrano called to Gordon but the man kept swimming up and down, up and down. Kyrano hesitated. He knew he could not swim, but he had to reach the young man. He had kept silence earlier about his brother's role in this affair, so now he was prepared to risk his own life to save the son of his friend. Taking a deep breath, Kyrano plunged into the pool; the water seemed to writhe around him; his clothes grew heavy, and he started to sink. He looked up to see his brother standing at the side of the pool, a sneer on his face. The water closed over Kyrano's head, but as darkness threatened to overtake him, strong arms embraced his body and he was raised up out of the water.

Gordon smiled at Kyrano as the young man held them afloat. "Don't worry, Kyrano, I've got you. What are you doing here? "

"I've come to save you, Mr Gordon."

Startled by Kyrano's reply, Gordon almost let Kyrano slip from his embrace. His eyes were wide, and his voice small, like that of a frightened child. "Have you come to take me home?"

Trying to keep his head above the water, Kyrano nodded and gasped. "Your brothers are waiting to see you. Come out of the pool, no one is going to hurt you anymore."

Gordon's body relaxed and the water disappeared. Kyrano found himself dry and standing in a lush grassy meadow. Slowly, Kyrano, with his arm around Gordon's shoulders, walked the young man back towards home. His brother's evil presence glowered in a dark recess before disappearing altogether with a howl of rage.

Alan and Scott's cramped legs were starting to tingle when Kyrano finally raised his head from Gordon's and sat back onto floor, his breathing laboured from exhaustion. Gordon relaxed in his brothers' hold, and he let out a deep sigh. Alan and Scott released their grip on Gordon, and all watched as the young man's eyelids fluttered open.

"Hey guys," Gordon's voice was weak but he managed to reach up and clasp his brothers' hands. "Had a bummer of a holiday."

Epilogue

It was a glorious sunny morning on Tracy Island. Gordon reclined on a deck chair overlooking the pool, and read a report John had compiled, detailing Gordon's kidnapping and rescue. Nearby, Virgil snoozed on another deck chair, a book covering his eyes. Scott fished leaves out of the pool; from time to time he would glance at Gordon, trying to gauge his younger brother's reaction to the report.

Gordon came to the end of the report and set it down on the tiles next to his chair. He placed his hands over his face and sighed.

Scott dropped the net he was holding and rushed over to kneel by his younger brother.

"Hey, Gordo, you okay?"

From behind his hands, Gordon's voice was muffled, "Yeah, fine."

"Maybe it was a bit soon to show him the report." Virgil had woken, and was looking on at his younger brother with concern.

Gordon sniffed, and took away his hands. "Don't worry, guys, I'm coping. I was asleep for most of it, anyway. I really can't remember a lot of it." The young man sat up straighter. "I must thank Kyrano properly, though. Apparently, he saved me from being a killer zombie."

Scott couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, it was extremely frustrating for me, you wouldn't obey any of my commands."

Gordon let out a loud laugh. A sound which brought Jeff to the window of his office to see what the boys were doing. He smiled broadly at his sons and waved.

Gordon gave his dad a wave in return, and looked to his brothers. "Hey, do you think Dad would mind if I go surfing again?"

Virgil almost choked on the drink he was sipping. "Gordo, you'll be lucky if Dad will let you leave the island for your own funeral, let alone for another surfing holiday."

"Don't worry, Virg, I'm not going to leave Tracy Island anytime soon. I've planned this all out. I thought, maybe, get Brains to help me devise an artificial reef off the island's main beach. A reef that would create the perfect wave. I read about it in a surfing magazine..." Gordon rambled on describing his plans.

Virgil's eyes started to glaze over as soon as Gordon mentioned surfing and he slumped back on his chair, placing the book back over his eyes. Scott started to edge away towards the house.

"Oh, sorry, Gordon. Was that Dad calling? I think Alan and Brains must be returning with Tin -Tin and Gran. Better go." He disappeared.

Seeing Scott scurry away, and Virgil falling asleep, Gordon stopped speaking, and sat back on his chair. The young man looked to the ocean; he needed to keep his mind busy with positive thoughts. He would never let his family know that he lay awake at night, wondering if the serpent was still coiled deep within his mind, ready to strike again.

Elsewhere, on the island in the South China Sea, a man raged. The man's servants cowered in front of him as he rained objects down on them in his fury. Hidden behind a pillar in the temple, Li watched as his Master vented his wrath. Later, he approached the large man with a calming drink. The man snatched the drink from Li and pierced him with his powerful stare.

"My brother will pay in blood for betraying me." The man seethed.

Li nodded but did not talk. It was better not to talk when his Master was angry.

"The Tracys will not escape next time. I will have my victory." The man smiled at his servant. "We have much work to do, the game is not over."