The Return Of Francesca
by Debbie Kluge

Author's Note:
A word of warning.  This has turned out to be the "love story" we've all
talked about on occasion so if you aren't a charter member of the JQ:
Hopeless Romantics Auxiliary this may not be the story for you.  So here
goes.  Let me know what you think.

Sounds.  The clink of metal on metal, the rattle of a cart moving down
the hallway, the low murmur of voices in the distance.  And smells . . .
antiseptic, equipment . . . the smells were the worst.  Jonny raised his
head and looked around numbly.  Nothing had changed.  The hospital
corridor, the clear glass window, the monitors, the tubes, the bed . . .
and Jessie in that bed.  *Oh, God, how did this happen?* he thought.
And then, *It's my fault.*  He lowered his head into his hands again and
it all came back to him so clearly.

                                   **********

He could hear her voice echoing in his head.

"There are a lot of kinds of 'hurt', Jonny."

And, "Maybe one day we'll talk about them."

And Jessie crying.

He knew he'd been a fool.  And for a while he thought that what he had
done would be unfixable.  It had seemed so harmless initially, spending
all that time with Francesca.  And, he admitted freely, it had felt
great to see Jessie so upset about it.  But he didn't realize how much
he was putting at risk.  Not until the night he looked down at her and
saw her crying.  Crying over *him*.  And somehow, everything had
changed.  But by that time it had almost been too late.

He tried to talk with her about it that same night, but she refused.  He
had gone to bed and laid there, unable to sleep, slowing coming to
realize the magnitude of what he had done.  He tried again that morning,
as soon as they were up but she just averted her eyes and shook her
head.  There were dark circles under her eyes and he thought she hadn't
slept any better than he had.  Throughout the weekend he tried to talk
with her, but she refused to discuss it.  And he was scared to even
mention Francesca's name, so finally he let it drop.  Dad was worried .
. . and so was Race.  Jonny caught both of them looking at them . . .
watching them.. They had even tried to talk to them about it.  But he
*couldn't*, no matter how hard he tried.  The only person he wanted to
talk with was Jessie.  Maybe he could have talked to Hadji, but he was
in Bangalore.

And on Monday morning, when Jessie turned up for school all dressed up,
he thought maybe things were going to be OK.  God, she was so beautiful
that morning.  She seemed her old self.  And things between them seemed
fine . . . as long as he didn't bring up that night or Francesca.  If he
did, she simply withdrew again.  So he decided to let it go until she
was ready to talk.  But it wasn't that easy.  If he thought she was
beautiful, well, so did everybody else.  And the fact that he had
attached himself to Francesca was common knowledge.  So every guy in
school decided she was "available".  Three separate guys asked her out
for Friday night right in front of him that first morning.  And what
could he do?  He had brought it on himself.  He took no consolation in
the fact she turned them all down.  It was only a question of time.

By Wednesday he had been desperate.  He tried again to apologize but she
still refused to talk with him about it.  And so, that morning on the
way in to school, he had pushed . . . insisted they discuss it.  And he
had made her cry again.  He thought that things couldn't get any worse.
He was wrong.  When he came out of his last class that afternoon he had
found a note on his locker.  It simply said,

"Jonny,  Had to leave early.  Dad'll pick you up after school.  Jessie"

And when he got home she was gone.  Estella had called.  She was
receiving some kind of honorary degree and wanted Jessie to be with her
when it was presented.  She would be back on Sunday.  So he had settled
down to wait.  But on Saturday the phone call came.  She talked with her
dad.  Then she talked with his dad.  But she wouldn't talk with him.
Race had had to tell him.  She wasn't coming back right away.  Estella
was leaving for a dig in Brazil and she was going to go with her.  She
wasn't going to go to Cairo with them.

That night both his dad and Race came to his room and sat down.  His
father had looked at him and asked,

"Jonny, what is going on?  Something has happened between you and
Jessie.  She won't talk about it.  You won't talk about it.  And now she
isn't coming home.  Will you please tell us what's happened?"  He had
looked from his father to Race and it was like his throat closed up and
he felt like he couldn't breathe.  He tried.  He really did.  But in the
end he just couldn't make himself tell them.  What could he say?  That
he'd treated her like dirt?  It was true.  That he was sorry?  That was
true, too.  That maybe he had hurt her so badly she could never trust
him again?  And what then?  He just shook his head, halfway in tears,
and after a while they had finally left him alone.  But his father had
one final thing to say before he left.

"Jonny, you have to talk with her.  Resolve whatever is wrong.  All else
aside, Race doesn't deserve this."  And for two days he had brooded
about it.  Until he couldn't stand it any longer.  And so, late one
night, he sat down at his computer and he wrote her a letter.  He'd put
his heart and soul into that letter.  To this day he didn't remember
what all he said; only that he had meant every word  And before he could
chicken out, he had patched it into his e-mail and sent it to her.  He
knew she had her laptop and satellite uplink gear.  If only she'd check
her mail . . .  It was three days before she responded.  The note was
simple.  It said, "Call me," and gave a number.  He had gotten the
cellular phone, locked himself in his room and placed that call.  The
connection wasn't always good and it wasn't the way he had wanted to
have the conversation, but they had finally talked.  And talked.  And
talked.  About 5-1/2 hours later the battery on the cell phone gave out,
but not before they had finally gotten everything said.  And she had
agreed to come home.

Not that that little piece of news had tempered his father's anger any
when the phone company called the next day to confirm that the charges
were legitimate.  He'd be paying for that phone bill for a long time.
But it had been worth it.  Race had gone to get her and had met them in
New York as they prepared to leave for London.  They had had no time
alone to really talk, but at least temporarily that had been OK.  She
had sat beside him and laughed.  And they talked about "safe" things
like the trip and the work that was to be done.  And she had let him
hold her hand.  He had been gloriously, ecstatically, indescribably
happy.

                              **********

They had been in London for two days when he began to feel "itchy".  He
couldn't describe the sensation . . . just that something wasn't quite
right.  Finally, he told Jessie it felt like someone was watching him
all the time.  It was four days later that she started having
"accidents".  At first it was little things.  Like the morning they were
leaving the hotel and a cab had cut the corner too sharply and sprayed
dirty water all over her.  Or the evening she had slipped on some water
near the stairs to the main lobby in their hotel and had almost fallen
down an entire flight of stairs.  At first they had all laughed and
shrugged it off.  But soon things started to escalate.

There was the broken balcony rail in the London Museum.  Someone had
bumped into Jessie, pushing her against the rail on the second floor.
It had given way and she had gone over the edge.  Luckily there had been
scaffolding near because the Museum personnel had known it was weak and
they were fixing it.  She had landed on the scaffold and had sustained
only minor bruises.  The Director could not explain why all the warning
signs and barricades were missing.  He was sure they had been there that
morning.  Everyone had been shaken except Jessie.  She just shrugged and
said she was probably just being a klutz and accidents happen.

And the entire time that "itchy" feeling of being watched persisted.

But then accident with the bus occurred.  It was the night before they
were to leave for Cairo.  For the first time the two of them were going
to have the chance to go out alone.  They really didn't have much time
so they were just going to take a walk up the street, do some window
shopping and then go back and help finish all the packing.  He
remembered thinking that their fathers' willingness to let them go was
pretty impressive considering it was finally beginning to dawn on them
that he and Jessie were developing into something more than just
friends.  And Jessie told him as they left the hotel that her dad's
parting comment had been that he thought maybe it was time they had a
little father-daughter chat about "things."  She was giggling about it
as they crossed the street and he had made some comment about the "birds
and the bees".  Suddenly, from out of nowhere, one of those large, red
tourist buses had appeared.  It was careening out of control with no
driver and no passengers.  It had jumped the curb and clipped Jessie
just before it hit the building wall.  She had been knocked off her feet
and hurled into a brick wall about three feet away.  She had hit hard
and slid down to lay dazed and confused on the pavement.  There had been
screams and a lot of commotion as he had run to her.  She had been
struggling to rise into a sitting position and as he put his arm around
her for support he looked up and saw his father and Race exit the
building at a run.  But in that instant his eyes had focused on the
crowd behind them and what he saw made his blood run cold.

She was standing at the front of a crowd of people about 20 feet back
from the accident.  Her dress was a deep violet, just like her eyes, and
it clung to her like a second skin.  Her body was framed by that cloud
of raven black hair.  She looked so tiny and fragile.  And, incredibly,
she was laughing.  It was Francesca.

                               **********

The sound of a buzzer caused Jonny to raise his head and look up the
hospital corridor.  He could see Race and his father standing outside
the locked door to the intensive care unit.  A nurse approached the
speaker system and talked quietly with them.  Finally she opened the
door and allowed them to step inside.  A soft voice suddenly came over
the PA system.

"Dr. Amin to ICU.  Dr. Amin to ICU."

He closed his eyes.  He knew what Dr. Amin would tell them.  The same
thing he had told Jonny a little over an hour ago.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Quest, but she is *very* badly injured.  There are
numerous broken bones and some very traumatic internal injuries.
Whoever beat her knew exactly what they were doing.  She is currently
listed in critical condition and there is a very good possibility she
will not live through the night.  We have done everything we can.  All
we can do now is wait."

He bowed his head and waited in misery.

                                 **********

*"This isn't over, Bannon . . . There'll be another time and another
place."*

The words had echoed in his mind like a death knell as he knelt on that
cold pavement and stared across the crowd at Francesca Hamilton.  She
had smiled sweetly, waved, blew him a kiss and had then vanished.

"Jonny . . . Jonny, let go.  You're hurting me . . ."  He had looked
down blindly at Jessie as she struggled weakly to free herself from his
vise-like grip.  He shook himself mentally and spoke to her softly.

"No, Jessie, hold still.  Our dads are coming.  I just saw them.  Don't
move until we can find a doctor."

"I'm OK.  Just a little banged up.  I don't need . . ."  Her father was
suddenly there, overriding any objections.

"You *will* see a doctor, Jessica, and I don't want to hear any
arguments.  You will lay there until we can find one!"  She had relaxed
back into Jonny's embrace and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I DO hurt," she had admitted finally.  In the effort to get her cared
for and back safely to the hotel, Jonny had put aside any thought of
what he had seen.  The doctor had ultimately confirmed that Jessie was
suffering from several severe bruises particularly to her right hip and
shoulder.  She also had a very minor concussion from hitting the wall.
But all in all, the doctor's opinion was that she was a very lucky young
woman.  He recommended two days bed rest before she was moved and had
prescribed some pain killers for the next day.  They had taken her back
to the hotel, put her carefully to bed and Jonny had settled himself
into the chair next to her bed to stand vigil.

"And just what do you think you are doing?"  Jonny looked up to see his
father standing in the doorway.

"I'll be fine here, Dad.  She shouldn't be alone."

"Jonny, the doctor says she'll be fine.  You need to . . ."  He cut his
father off abruptly.

"NO!  I won't leave her alone.  You don't . . ."  He cut himself off
sharply and shook his head.  He finished lamely, "I just won't."
Standing behind Benton Quest, Race Bannon looked at Jonny closely.  Then
he stepped around Benton, grasped his arm firmly and stood him up.

"You can sit out here and we'll leave the door open so you can keep an
eye on her.  But we need to talk."  Race led him into the sitting room
and they all settled down.  He had shifted his chair around until he had
a clear view of Jessie as she lay sleeping.  Finally, he looked back at
a rather grim-faced Race.

"Now, Jonathan Benton Quest, I don't know what's been going on here, but
enough is enough.  I want an explanation.  NOW."  He had looked at Race
for a long time, then took a deep breath and started at the beginning.
He told them about that morning in Rockport High School; about the hours
he had spent with Francesca; about the fights with Jessie and the dinner
in Augusta.  He told them again about that night at the Quest Compound
when Francesca and her father had broken into the lighthouse and about
the threats Francesca had made to Jessie just before she had
disappeared.  At that point, he stopped, looking quietly at her sleeping
form in the other room.  And, finally, he told them about the aftermath
of that night, the miserable days that followed, the letter, the phone
call and, lastly, about the time in London where they had both been so
happy.  And there he stopped.  He sat for a minute staring at her and
then looked Race Bannon squarely in the face.

"Race, I was a stupid fool.  I came closer than I ever want to come to
losing one of the most important things in my life.  Somehow, she's
found a way to forgive me.  It's probably more than I deserve.  And I'll
never hurt her again . . . I swear it."  Race looked at him seriously
for several seconds, then took a deep breath.

"I believe you."  Race looked over at Benton whose eyes were unusually
bright and then looked back at him.  A wry smile formed at the corner of
his mouth.  "How old are you, Jonny?"  Race could see him stiffen
slightly.

"I'll be sixteen next month."  Race shook his head, that smile growing a
little bigger.  Then he looked over at Benton.

"I suppose we should be grateful this didn't happen sooner."  Benton
cleared his throat slightly.

"Yes, we should.  And we also should have seen it coming."  But then he
looked again at his son.  "But there's something else.  Something you
haven't told us.  You've gone this far, Jonny, give us the rest."

So he told them about seeing Francesca in the crowd.  About her
laughter.  They were all silent for a long time.  Then Benton spoke up.

"You think she's responsible for all of this."  Jonny shrugged and
looked again at the sleeping form on the bed in the other room.

"She certainly seemed to hate Jessie enough to do something like this."
His father exhaled in a deep sigh.

"Well forewarned is forearmed, I guess.  We'll notify the authorities
first thing in the morning and we'll keep close tabs on both of you.
Hopefully the authorities will pick her and any accomplices up
relatively quickly and we won't have to worry about this any more.  In
the mean time . . ."  Jonny rose quickly from his chair and moved back
in the direction of Jessie's bedroom again.

"In the mean time, I'll just settle in the chair in here."  Race opened
his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and let him go.

                                 **********

He knew his father and Race had discussed the situation for a long time
after he left.  He could hear the low murmur of their voices in the
other room.  All in all, they seemed to have taken the news of he and
Jessie fairly well, although he figured things might change a little
after they had time to think about it.  Somewhere along the way he
drifted off to sleep.  He woke up sometime around two o'clock that
morning feeling stiff and a little cold.  When he looked at her he saw
Jessie's green eyes watching him.  He straightened up and asked softly,

"Hey, how ya' doin'?"  She shifted slightly and grimaced.

"Well, I've been better."  She smiled at his look and continued quickly,
"No.  No, I'm OK.  I've just been laying here wondering if it's worth
the trouble trying to get up to go to the bathroom."

"I'll help."

"Oooh, I bet my dad would love that!"  Jonny grinned wryly.

"You don't know the half of it."  Her eyes widened slightly.

"What did you . . ."  Race suddenly stuck his head in the door.

"Hey, Poncheta. Feeling better?"  Jessie started to sit up in bed and
both he and Race had converged on her.  She made it upright, breathing a
little heavily.

"Oh man, did someone get the number of that bus?"  Race snorted.  Then
he looked at Jonny.

"It's now time that *you* got some sleep.  And I don't mean sitting
upright in a chair.  Go on.  I'll sit with her now."  He had started to
protest but a stern look had silenced him.  As he was leaving he could
hear Race saying to her,

"So tell me, was he as much of a horse's behind as he claims he was?"
There was a pause and then he heard her laugh a little nervously.

"Oh.  He told you about that.  Well . . . yeah, he was.  But then I was
no prize either so I guess we're about even . . ."

He thought he would never be able to sleep, but he no more than laid
down and he was out like a light.  It was after ten when he woke up.  He
wandered into the sitting room to find Jessie propped up on a couch,
wide awake and looking a lot better.  She was surrounded by oversized
sheets of paper and she had a sketch pad in her lap.  When he picked one
of the sheets up he found himself staring at a likeness of Francesca.
He looked at her questioningly and she shrugged, wincing a little.

"They told me you had seen her at the accident and thought she may have
been the cause of the stuff that's been happening to me recently.  Dad
asked if I could come up with a good picture of her.  I think he wants
to distribute it to some of his old agency buddies to see if they can
find her.  I told him you were the better artist, but he said he didn't
think he wanted to rely on your objectivity."

"And yours is going to be better?"  She laughed.  He picked up several
of the sketches and looked at them.  There were several different poses
and Jessie had captured her beauty and innocence well.  But there were
no pictures of her other side.  The angry, hate-filled one.  He pointed
that out.  She bowed her head a little, letting her hair obscure her
face.  In a muffled voice she said,

"Well, she's not going to let that face show much, now is she?  And she
really is drop-dead gorgeous.  That's what people will notice."  He sat
quickly beside her and, catching her chin, forced her face up to look at
him.

"Let's not start this again.  We've talked about it already.  And I
still don't understand why you feel this way!"

"But she makes me feel so plain and . . ."

"You are *not* plain!  That's simply not possible."  He grinned at her.
"Especially when you're multicolored!"

"Oh, thanks a lot.  That makes me feel a *whole* lot better!"  He looked
at her for a long minute and then reached a gentle hand out and brushed
her cheek.  He suddenly remembered a damp, fog-enshrouded day on a ghost
island off the coast of Nova Scotia and his breath caught in his throat.
He curled his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her neck, and
pulled her gently toward him as he leaned forward.  He could feel her
breath on his cheek as he . . .

"Jonny."  He jerked upright and flushed a bright pink, twisting around
to glare at his father who was standing just inside the door.

"Don't do that!"  Jessie giggled.  Race strode into the room briskly.

"How are those drawings coming?"

"I've got several good ones here I think."  Jonny reached out for the
pad.

"Give me that thing."  He worked for about 15 minutes and then handed
another drawing to Race.  This Francesca was almost unrecognizable as
the same person.  Race looked at Jonny for a long minute.

"Are you sure about this?"  He shrugged.

"Jessie has her biases and I have mine.  But she really can look that
different from one time to the next.  And that's the face I remember.
The one from the computer lab in the lighthouse.  That's the person who
made the threats against Jessie."

"OK.  I'm going out for a while.  *You* will stay *here*."  He pointed
sternly at Jonny.  "I know you too well and I don't want you out roaming
the streets looking for this girl.  We are going to let someone else
take care of this."

The next two days had passed quietly.  Jessie rested while they finished
up the packing and made the final travel arrangements for Cairo.  His
dad had called Hadji to let him know what was going on and Hadji had
spent some time talking to both of his friends.  He had been very
concerned and was prepared to head directly for Cairo to be with them.
His dad had talked him out of it.  He pointed out that Hadji had other
obligations and that they could manage.  Secretly, Jonny had wished that
his dad had let Hadji join them.  He would have felt a lot better with
another set of eyes watching over Jessie until Francesca had been
caught.  Because no one could find her.  She seemed to have vanished.
He was almost beginning to wonder if he had imagined the whole thing.

                                **********

The trip to Egypt had been an uneventful one.  Jonny had thought they
were actually going to work in Cairo, however when they arrived they
discovered that the Egyptian government who had requested Dr. Quest's
services preferred that they move on to Luxor and work there.  They were
to work on the renovation and translation of some newly obtained tomb
reliefs from the Valley of the Kings.  Relics had been flooding the
antiquities market that did not seem to follow any of the known dynastic
patterns.  Either thieves had found a brand new tomb or someone had come
up with an entirely new enterprise.  Either way, the Egyptian government
wanted to know.  So after spending a couple of days arranging for
supplies they moved on to Luxor.

By that time Jessie was a great deal better and anxious to go out and
explore.  But he was jumpy.  That "itchy" feeling of being watched had
returned in force shortly after they set foot in Cairo.  And it was
getting worse the longer they were in Egypt.  Jessie seemed completely
oblivious to it.  Race had finally relented and allowed Jessie out of
their lodgings as long as she wasn't alone and didn't go far. For a
while she was OK with that, but after about a week she began to get
restless and irritable.  Since things has been quiet and there had been
no further problems, Race had finally agreed to give them free rein to
roam . . . "within reason" as he had put it.  So they had explored the
souks and open air markets.  They had taken the hike into the Valley of
the Kings to see the various tombs and crawled in the dark, smelly
passages of long-abandoned pyramids.  And they had gone to Giza to see
the sphinx.  But the entire time he had remained uneasy.  That feeling
of being watched had never left him.  And then the night of the full
moon arrived.

All of the tour guides had talked about seeing the full moon rise from
the top of the great pyramid.  How it bathed everything in this
wonderful silver light and about how beautiful a sight it was.  So they
had decided they would climb the pyramid together and see it.  When they
had told their fathers, Race had frowned and looked a little worried.

"I'm not sure that being out alone after dark is such a good idea.
Maybe Benton and I should come with you."  The glare Jessie gave her
father could have curdled milk.

"DAD!"  Race looked a little startled at her vehemence and Benton gagged
on his coffee.

"Oh.  I see.  Well . . ."  Jessie continued,

"Furthermore, we won't be *that* alone.  This is a big tourist
attraction and they say it draws a big crowd."

"Well, alright.  But both of you be careful!"  They had agreed and about
an hour before sunset they left to start for the pyramid.  They were
both in high spirits, laughing and joking.  The climb, while long,
wasn't bad and they arrived just as the sun was setting.  For the next
several hours they watched the scenery, mingled with the other people
and generally enjoyed themselves.  As moonrise approached they had moved
a little away from the others and had found a convenient block of stone
with a good view.  As they sat down he had put his arm around her waist
and she had snuggled up against his side with one hand laying on his
leg.  Suddenly, the moon began peaking over the dunes on the horizon and
they had sat spellbound as it rose majestically until it was a perfectly
round orb hanging suspended in the night sky.

Jessie breathed out a soft "Ohhhh" and he had turned to look at her.
She looked back at him, the wonder of the sight reflected in her face.
He had used his free hand to caress the side of her face as he leaned
forward to kiss her.  An instant before their lips met his world
exploded in a burst of pain as someone struck him on the head.  The last
thing he remembered hearing was Jessie's frightened cry as blackness
enveloped him.

                               *********

When he came to he was lying in the deep shadow formed by the piece of
stone they had been sitting on.  The moon had moved far across the night
sky and his head ached.  The top of the pyramid was deserted.  He
staggered to his feet and looked around frantically.  At first he could
see nothing.  Then, about a third of the way across the top of the
pyramid, he saw what he first thought was a shadow.  Slowly it dawned on
him that there was nothing anywhere near to be casting a shadow.  He had
stumbled across the surface and dropped to his knees beside the dark
shape. With shaking hands he activated the flashlight on his watch and
look down at the lump before him.  In the harsh light he looked at
Jessie.  She had been savagely beaten.  One side of her rib cage looked
collapsed and her right leg was twisted in a direction it should not
have been able move.  There was blood seeping out of the corner of her
mouth and for an instant he thought she wasn't breathing.  Then he heard
her try and inhale and the sound wheezed and bubbled.  Blood in the
lungs.

*Oh, please, PLEASE God, don't let this be happening . . . *

In that instant he realized she was dying.

                                      **********

"Jonny."  He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up slowly.  His
father knelt in front of him.  Behind him he could see Race standing at
the glass window staring at his daughter.  His body was tense and the
set of his shoulders said he was angry.  His father squeezed his
shoulder and asked in a gentle voice,  "Are you alright, son?"
Alright?  *ALRIGHT*?!?  His vision suddenly blurred and the pain in his
chest threatened to overwhelm him.  He jerked away and stood up, moving
jerkily down the hallway toward the door to the ICU room where Jessie
lay.  He wanted to strike out with both fists . . . wanted to break
something . . . anything.  The grief and rage and helplessness were
swamping him.  He felt like he was drowning.

Suddenly, he felt himself seized and pulled into a strong, tight
embrace.  And he heard Race's voice against his hair.

"Hang on, Jonny.  Don't give in.  She's strong and she's a fighter.
This won't beat her.  I know it won't.  And when she comes around she's
going to need you . . . need all of us.  We can't fall apart now."  He
could feel the tremor in Race's body as he fought with himself.  Jonny
struggled to do the same and finally found some small measure of
control.

"You're right."  His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.  "I . . .
I'm OK now." Race loosened his grip and led him gently back to his
father.  Benton placed a hand on his son's shoulder and pushed him
gently down to sit on the bench along the wall again.  The two older men
sat down on either side of him and Benton put his arm around his
shoulders.

"Can you tell us what happened, son?"  And so he told them.  By the time
he finished he was shaking uncontrollably and tears were running down
his face.

"I don't remember what I did.  How I got help.  It's nothing but a
blur.  I remember an ambulance of some kind and of talking with the
doctor.  I remember giving them your name, Dad, and begging them to call
you, but I . . . I . . ."  He wrapped him arms around his ribs and
shuddered violently as his grief racked him.  Race rose abruptly and
walked back to the window to look at his daughter again, while Benton
tried to comfort his son.  Dr. Amin appeared quietly with a syringe
which he injected into Jonny.  Jonny jerked upright, wild-eyed, but
Benton and caught and held him until the sedative took effect and he
slumped down in his father's lap, unconscious.  Benton closed his eyes
and put a hand to his eyes as though his head ached.  Then he looked at
the doctor and said,

"Thank you.  Is there a place we can lay him so he can rest?"  Dr. Amin
located a hospital bed and placed it against the wall in the hallway
outside Jessie's room.  Then the three of them picked Jonny up and laid
him on the bed.  Benton covered him with a blanket and stood looking at
him for a minute.  Even in sleep the grief marked his son's face.  He
felt Race at his shoulder.

"What a mess."  He looked up at his long-time companion.  "I'm sorry,
old friend.  This never should have happened."  Race moved to the bench
where Jonny had been sitting and sank wearily onto it.

"What's to be sorry for?  This certainly isn't Jessie's fault.  She
can't be held accountable for every maniac who decides to hold a
grudge.  And as much as Jonny is prepared to take the blame for the
entire mess, this isn't his fault either.  I think I've always known
that the day would come when those two would look at each other and
realize there was something more there.  I just didn't think it would
happen quite so soon.  And, Benton, the truth is that I've trusted that
boy with my daughter's life more than once and I've never yet regretted
it.  I'm sure not gonna' start now.  If it's time that she develops an
interest in boys I would prefer it be Jonny than anyone else I've ever
met."  Benton Quest sat down next to him and leaned against the wall.

"High praise for my somewhat wayward son.  You know I love her like she
was my own daughter, don't you?"  Race nodded.

"I know."  He sat quietly for a minute.  Finally, he rose and looked at
his friend.  "I've got to call her mother."  Benton reached into his
pocket and silently handed him the cellular phone.

**********

The extended members of the Quest "family" converged quickly on the
Egyptian hospital.  Hadji arrived from Bangalore before sunset that same
day looking tense and exhausted.  Estella would arrive sometime the next
day, having refused to allow Race to leave Jessie to come after her.
Jonny had finally roused from his drug-induced sleep late that
afternoon.  He looked haggard and much older than his almost-sixteen
years.  Both Race and Benton had tried to convince him to eat, but he
had refused, simply saying he wasn't hungry.  He had tried to go into
the ICU room to wait with Jessie, but the hospital staff had refused to
allow this.  Finally, he had settled again on the bench outside the
viewing window and sat . . . silent and unmoving.  The emotional
outbursts were gone.  In their place only silence and withdrawl
remained.  Benton had greeted his adopted son with relief when he
arrived, stopping him well out of earshot.  Hadji was shocked by the
appearance of his friend.  Benton explained briefly the events of the
prior few weeks and then looked at his young assistant seriously.

"They've both been on an emotional rollercoaster for the last month.
He's over-stretched emotionally, physically exhausted and beyond trying
to take care of himself any longer.  Neither Race nor I can reach him.
I'm scared something really drastic is going to happen here.  And if we
should lose Jessie, heaven forbid . . ."  Hadji shook his head,

"I do not believe that will happen, Dr. Quest.  I have never known
anyone with more will for life than Jessie.  And if what you say is
true, then she has more to live for now than ever before.  She will not
give up on that.  You watch and see . . . she will make it."  Hadji
walked across the room and sat down by his friend.  He spoke to him
softly and Benton could see Jonny respond to whatever he had said.  At
least he had gotten some type of response from him.  That was more than
anyone else had been able to do that day.

Race was again standing in front of the viewing window watching his
daughter.  Benton had seen him talking with Dr. Amin as Hadji had
arrived and he moved up to stand beside him.  Jessie lay in the same
position as she had when they had first arrived at the hospital.  Tubes
and electrodes trailed from both arms and a brain monitor was attached
to one temple.  Her face was bruised, her nose broken and a large white
bandage covered her entire right arm from shoulder to wrist.  He knew
there was a tube inserted into her left side through the ribcage to
drain the blood from her lungs.  The lacerations to spleen, kidneys and
liver had been severe.  He simply didn't see how she could possibly
survive this.  Unexpectedly, he felt tears sting his eyes.  What he had
said to Race last night had been true.  He loved her like she was his
own and would not have felt any worse if it had been Jonny in that bed.
He looked at Race.

"What did he say, old friend?"  Race was silent for a minute and then
glanced over his shoulder at the two sitting on the bench behind him.
In a low, choked voice he said,

"She a good deal weaker.  He's afraid they're going to have to put her
on active life support.  There's also some indication she may be
developing pneumonia."  Race's face looked bleak.  "Benton, that boy's
got to find some reason to go on.  If Jessie doesn't make it through
this . . . well, I don't like what I'm seeing there.  I've seen that
look on the faces of too many good men who have been pushed too far."
The cold at the pit of Benton Quest's stomach turned into a icy knot.
He took a deep breath.

"Let's just hope Hadji can reach him.  If he can't I don't think anyone
can."

*********

Jonny's entire world seemed muted.  Sounds were distant, colors dull and
somewhere in the center of himself he was lost.  He was only marginally
aware of the coming and going of people around him.  He no longer even
listened to his father or Race.  He didn't care any more.  But he
suddenly became aware of a new voice.  He raised his head slowly and
looked to his right.  Hadji was sitting beside him.

"Hello, my friend.  I am sorry it has taken me so long to get here."
Jonny straighten up and leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted.

"It's OK, Hadj.  It doesn't matter . . ."  His eyes turned to the big
glass window and the sight beyond it.  "Dad tell you what's been going
on?"  Hadji nodded, his eyes never leaving his friend's face.  "I really
screwed this one up, Hadji."

"From what your father tells me, you are not at fault here.  Nor do I
believe that Race holds you responsible.  And *Jessie* would not want
you to do this to yourself on her behalf.  She is stronger than that and
would expect you to be as well."  Jonny didn't respond.  Hadji stood and
reached a hand down to grasp his arm.  "Come, my friend.  I do not
believe that Jessie will give up this life just yet.  And you must be
strong enough to help her when the time comes.  We will get something to
eat, you will take a bath and then get some sleep.  We will return in
the morning and be more ready to cope with all the day brings."  Jonny
rose and, without a backward look, allowed Hadji to lead him out the
door and into the night.

*********

Dr. Estella Velasquez arrived early the next morning.  She had been
traveling continuously for over  36 hours and felt disconnected.
*Surely,* she thought, *this can't be happening.*  But the harsh reality
came home to her as she entered the ICU corridor in the Cairo hospital.
They were all there.  Benton Quest, Hadji, Jonny . . . and Race.  She
had eyes only for her ex-husband.  She had expected to be angry when she
saw him and she had spent most of the trip trying to condition herself
so she would not be accusatory when she saw him.  She didn't want to
fight.  The only thing that mattered was their daughter.  But she
needn't have worried.  Any anger she felt drained away the instant she
set eyes on him.  He had aged and the grief and worry had cut deep lines
between his brows and at the corners of his mouth.  And like all of
them, he looked exhausted.  She crossed to him quickly and laid a hand
on his arm.

"Race . . ."  He looked at her.

"Estella."  And suddenly they were in each other's arms, their
daughter's plight bringing them together again.  They stood like that
for a long time.  Finally, Estella loosened her grip and look up at her
former husband with anger stirring deep in her eyes.

"Who has done this?"  Race took a deep breath and then shot a quick
sidewise look toward Jonny.  She shook his head and in a low voice,
said,

"Not here.  He can't take much more."  In a more normal tone of voice,
he continued "Let's get you out of here.  We'll get something to eat and
drop your stuff off at our hotel and then we'll come back."  He looked
at Benton.

"We shouldn't be gone more than an hour."  Benton Quest nodded.

For the first time Estella looked closely at the others in the waiting
area.  All looked tired and grieved, but she was horrified when she
looked at Jonny.  The last time she had seen her daughter she was
laughing and radiated joy.  She had told her mother that she thought she
had a boyfriend.  When Estella had asked who it was Jessie had given her
one of those *daughter* looks and had asked her who she thought it would
be.  Estella didn't have to guess.  She knew her daughter's heart.  If
Race had known subconsciously that this was going to happen, Estella had
*always* known . . . and had waited patiently for it.  And she didn't
need to have seen young Jonny Quest to know that he would have been as
alive and as joyful as her daughter had been.  The boy who sat on the
bench in that room was a stranger.  He was thin and ashen.  Pain and
anguish surrounded him like a cloud and despair was written in every
line on his face.  Laying a hand on Race's arm briefly she crossed to
stand in front of the boy as he sat leaning against the wall with his
eyes closed.  She reached out and stroked his hair gently.  He opened
his eyes and she saw they were a dark, clouded blue-gray.

"You mustn't give up on her, Jonny.  She's not ready to leave you yet.
I know . . . she told me so herself."  His eyes suddenly filled with
tears and he said,

"Oh, Estella, I'm *so* sorry.  I should have protected her . . ."  She
held him and rocked him gently back and forth, stroking his hair.

"There was nothing you could have done.  I know that.  Now we must
simply wait for what will come."  She disengaged herself.  "I have to
go, but I'll be back soon.  And then we'll talk.  And I will tell you
about my daughter."

**********

Race and Estella sat in the common room in the Quest's hotel suite
eating a room service meal.  She had showered briefly and they were due
to leave to return to the hospital shortly.  Race had told her of the
events since he had picked their daughter up from Estella's base camp in
the Brazilian rain forest.  Anger showed clearly as she looked at him.

"So you know who is behind this."

"We have an idea.  I've circulated sketches to all the local police
agencies and have called in every favor anyone ever owed me to try and
track her down.  We know she was operating with someone she claimed was
her father back in Maine and there may be others.  But so far they have
gone to ground so thoroughly no one has been unable to unearth them."
Estella looked at him closely.  Race Bannon had never been a man to
tolerate inactivity or waiting with any kind of grace.  She knew how
badly he must have wanted to go out and tear things apart trying to find
the person who had hurt his "little girl."  That he was waiting quietly
with the others was something of a revelation to her.

"Maybe the girl . . . Francesca, you said her name is? . . . has left.
Maybe she accomplished her purpose and is no longer around."  Race shook
his head slowly.

"Maybe.  But somehow I don't think so.  All of the attacks were directed
at Jessie, but I'm starting to believe that in some subtle way they are
also directed at Jonny.  She may want Jessie dead, but I think she wants
Jonny to suffer."

"Soooo.  She is angry.  With both of them.  I have to wonder if Jessie
"actively" took Jonny away from her."

"I don't think so.  From what Jonny said, Jessie was too proud to play
that kind of game.  Not that she didn't learn a few things in the
process,"  An image of his daughter in a black leather miniskirt came
forcefully to mind and he swallowed hard.  " . . . but I think Jonny had
come to realize his own heart and was already moving away from Francesca
before the night in the lighthouse ever occurred."

"And if Jessie was jealous of *her* it's a good bet that the reverse was
also true."

"Jonny was completely bewildered because he said that Jessie has told
him repeatedly that Francesca made her feel plain . . . actually, I
guess there was something of a litany . . . plain, ugly, scruffy,
clumsy."  Race shook his head in disbelief.  "I thought we had instilled
more self-esteem in her than that."

"It's not self-esteem, Race.  It's youth.  She's young . . . they both
are.  That's not to say they don't know their own hearts, but they are
still trying to learn how to deal with all of the emotions that come
with getting older.  I'm not sure our daughter ever really thought about
whether she was pretty.  She was simply herself.  That's what we taught
her.  And Jonny's attention had mattered to her whether she realized it
consciously or not.  And that had never been threatened before.  When it
was, her world was turned on it's side and she was lost."

"She should have come and talked with me. Or even Benton.  Either of us
would have listened."  Estella shook her head.

"And I can tell you what both of you would have said.  'You're way to
young to be thinking this way.'  And that wasn't what she wanted to
hear.  She wasn't too young, because she hurt.  She just didn't really
understand why.  Or what to do about it.  I would also guess there was a
little bit of a fear that if you became alarmed about them getting too
close too young you might have found a reason to ship Jessie off to me
as a way to separate them for a while."

"I might have done it, too."

"You see?  The only reason you've accepted it now is because it's so
obvious that the commitment has gone way beyond what you could stop.
And don't you give me that look.  You know it's true."  Race sighed.

"I know.  I told Benton something similar the other night."

"I know it's hard to watch her grow up, but the time has come for this
next step.  And I don't know if he's used the words yet or not, but you
know . . ."

"I know.  I know.  But *I'm* not ready to hear them yet.  Come on.
Let's get back."

**********

The day crawled by. Hadji stayed close to Jonny but he had withdrawn
again.  Race and Estella hovered close to the viewing window most of the
time, occasionally talking in low tones.  Benton paced the length of the
corridor almost continuously.  Hadji managed to coax Jonny out to get
some lunch early in the afternoon, but upon their return he just looked
at his adopted father and shook his head.  They both went over and sat
back down on "their" bench again.  And still the day dragged on.

Late that evening, just as Race was about to suggest that they start
going back in shifts to get some rest, a stranger entered the waiting
area.  He was large, dark-complected with very bad skin.  He moved
lithely and silently as he crossed to Race Bannon.  *A spook,* Estella
thought with a shudder.  She had always hated Race's job with the
government and had been very thankful when he made the break with the
agency and became a permanent member of Quest Enterprises.  The man's
voice was deep and low as he spoke,

"Mr. Bannon?"  Race moved to intercept him.

"Here."

"We believe we've spotted the target."

"Where?"

"A woman matching your description was seen entering the establishment
of one Abdelal Hassan, an antiquities dealer with a shop in the main
souk near the tanner's shop.  He is reputed to deal in illegally
obtained merchandise and to pay huge sums to the local police for
protection.  We have put the establishment under surveillance and have
established an operating perimeter but have gone no further."

"Have you notified the local authorities?"

"No.  We felt the risk of a leak was too great."  Race nodded grimly.

"Let's go.  I don't want . . ."  At that instant the quiet was cut by a
piercing whine and an alarm began to sound.  Medical personnel appeared
from no where converging on the bed where Jessie lay.  One by one all
the monitors dropped off as doctors and nurses worked frantically.
Everyone in the observation room surged toward the open doorway.  One of
them was murmuring a steady litany of "ohnoohnoohno".

And at 9:27 p.m. on that dark Cairo night, Jessie Bannon died.
          
                                             **********

"NOOOOOO ! . . ."

"This CAN'T be happening!"

"Mr. Bannon, I'm sorry . . . we did every thing we could . . ."

"Please please pleasepleaseplease . . ."

The sounds of crying, disbelief, and anger intermingled with that of
closing doors and hospital noises.

And suddenly through all the confusion came a calm, clear, even voice.

"Jessie, you can not do this."  Silence fell on the room as everyone
looked in disbelief at Hadji Singh.  He stood calmly by the still form
laying in the bed, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, hands held
out in front of him palms up.  "I know it is hard, but if you cross the
river now we will lose Jonny, too.  You hold his spirit in your trust
and we can not get it back.  You can not leave him in the same way his
mother did or he is lost.  You *must* come back to us."  A long moment
passed.  And suddenly one of the monitors beeped.  Then another.  And
another.  And suddenly all of them were back, weak, but there.  Medical
personnel rushed back to the bed, pushing Hadji aside.  He turned and
walked quietly back to the group standing in the doorway.  The stranger
was looking at the boy in astonishment.  He looked at them all steadily,
then shook his head.

"She could not leave yet.  It is not her time.  She knew it . . . she
just needed to be reminded of how much depended on her remaining."  The
doctor moved to join them and herded them back out into the corridor.

"I do not know how this has happened.  She was gone.  I was sure nothing
we could do would bring her back."

"Nothing *you* could do would have made a difference.  The only one who
could make a difference was Jessie herself.  She had to choose to
stay."  Hadji looked at Race.  "You understand."  Race nodded slowly.
Suddenly, Hadji's expression changed to one of alarm.

"Where is Jonny?"

But Jonny Quest was gone.

                                  **********

He moved silently through the dark streets just as Race had taught him.
He knew that getting through the observation lines that Race's agency
friends had set up would be difficult but he knew he could do it.  They
had explored that souk from one end to the other, visiting all the shops
and talking to as many vendors as they could.  They had even been in
Hassan's shop.  He also knew that he wouldn't have much of a head
start.  When the initial shock of Jessie's death wore off they would
notice he was gone and start looking for him.  And it wouldn't be hard
to guess where he was heading . . .

His mind was clear and sharp and he was moving with purpose.  Somewhere
deep inside of him he knew that blackness still lurked, waiting to
overwhelm him.  What would happen when it finally closed in he didn't
know or care.  Right now he was having no trouble holding it at bay.  He
had a purpose and it would stay buried until he accomplished the task he
had set for himself.

He entered the perimeter of the souk cautiously and flitted from shadow
to shadow like a wraith  He knew where he was headed.  The antiquity
shop was near the center of the market.  He was certain that the men
posted to watch the shop would be doing so from one of three places:
across the main square in the dark alleyway that ran beside the tanner's
shop; in the deeply recessed entry of the sweetmeat shop two doors up;
or from the alleyway that ran behind the shop. He was fairly certain
that in the time they had had to set this up they would not have risked
tipping them off by sending someone inside so they would assume that the
front and back entrances were the only ways in or out.

But Jonny knew differently.  He had been in that shop and both he and
Jessie had seen the carefully concealed trapdoor in the ceiling of the
back room.  They should never have been in that room, but the owner had
been trying so hard to keep people out of there that it was more than
either one of them could resist.  They had slipped back there and had
seen the trap door.  Along with a large quantity of the questionable
artifacts that his father had been sent there to study.  They had left
everything untouched and slipped back out into the main shop.  They had
tried to buy one of the mysterious pieces but Hassan wouldn't sell it to
them, saying it was already spoken for.  So they had wandered away and
continued their window shopping.  But as they wandered they had tried to
trace the likely access to that trapdoor.  What they finally found was a
drainpipe about six shops down and around a curve from the dealer.  It
was located at the back of a shop in a dead end alley filled with
refuse.  It was noticeable because it was the cleanest thing in the
entire market.  Jessie had said at the time that it was probably being
used as a ladder to the roof.  They had intended to tell his father
about it when they got back to the hotel, but the excitement of the
impending evening on the pyramid had driven it from their minds.  After
that evening it didn't really seem to matter any more.

As he thought of that day the core of blackness rose up and tried to
envelope him again.  He leaned back against a wall and closed his eyes
feeling again the overwhelming grief that was so near the surface.  But
he wouldn't let it take him.  Not yet.  He had one last thing to do.
His eyes glittered as he leaned forward in the deep shadows and studied
the center of the market square.  Jessie was gone.  At first he hadn't
wanted to believe it . . . couldn't grasp it.  But as the sounds of
grief rose in that crowded doorway his mental fog had disappeared and he
saw with clarity what he had to do.  Before the dawn arrived this would
be over.  And Francesca would be dead.

He thought maybe he was going insane.  But even that didn't matter.  As
far as he was concerned there was nothing beyond Francesca's death . . .
because nothing else was left.  A part of his mind screamed at him *What
about your father?  And Hadji?  And Race?*  But he didn't care any
more.  Francesca dead for what she had done -- that was all he wanted.
And he wanted to do it with his own two hands.

There they were!  Exactly where he knew they would be.  He could count
four men.  He would anticipate at least four more he couldn't see.  But
no one this far up the market square.  He slipped quietly out of his
hiding place and moved down two shops to the entrance to the dead end
alleyway.  Nothing stirred.  The blackness in the alley was like ink.
He knew he would have to make that climb blind and hope no one was
posted on the roof.  He reached out and tugged on the pipe.  It was
solidly anchored and it made no noise.  He climbed quickly and stopped
just below the rooftop.  Just as he was about to reach out and pull
himself up he heard a stealthy movement from above him.  Then a low
voice hissed in the darkness.

"Hurry, you brother of a camel!  If we are caught here we are sure to be
dead."

"We should have taken more.  They are of good workmanship.  They will
bring a good price."

"We will be lucky to get away with our lives and what we have!  Do not
linger.  Quickly!"  Suddenly, Jonny heard a soft exclamation and a heavy
thud.  A moment later two shapes sailed over his head and landed on the
ground in the alley below.  A new voice came out of the blackness above
him.

"No one steals from me and lives to benefit from it."  And soft
footsteps receded across the roof.  But Jonny had ceased thinking about
the men on the ground below.  He knew that voice!  And he had found what
he was looking for.  Because the man moving away from him on the roof
was David Hamilton -- Francesca's father.

                                **********

Benton Quest uttered an inarticulate sound and broke for the door.
Estella swayed on her feet, her eyes wide and her face white.  Race
swore.  Catching her arm, he eased his former wife onto the nearby
bench, as he called,

"Benton, wait!"  He turned to the agency man still in their midst.  "Can
you reach your men at the observational perimeter?"  He nodded.  "Then
call them!  They aren't to move on the shop, but they're to watch for
that boy.  He's got to be stopped.  He's going after Francesca and he's
going to be single-minded and dangerous.  He's young, but he's good.
And he has nothing to lose."  Estella looked at him in fear.

"Surely he won't do this.  He'll know Jessie still needs him and he
won't take any chances."  Race shook his head.

"I don't think he knows she's alive.  I think when those monitors died a
part of Jonny went with them . . . the rational part.  And right now all
that's left is a burning desire for vengeance.  Our attention was
diverted and he took his chance and ran with it.  Literally."  The
stranger looked up from his cellular phone and shook his head.

"No sign of him."

"He's there . . . somewhere."  He looked down at Estella.  "You have to
stay here.  Hadji," a quick look at the young man, "I need you here as
well.  I would ask Benton to stay, too, but that would be pointless.  He
wouldn't do it.  We'll bring him back . . . I promise."  He turned and
left at a run with Benton Quest and the stranger on his heels.  Estella
and Hadji looked at each other for a long moment.  And then they set
themselves to wait.

                                **********

Jonny crouched in the shadows on the roof of the antiquities shop.  The
trap door was open and from below the low murmur of voices could be
heard.  He eased closer and finally began to make out the words.  A
familiar voice said,

"The area is getting too hot.  We've got to relocate.  The men are
packing up the merchandise right now.  We should have no trouble being
out by dawn."  An unfamiliar voice answered him.

"This never should have happened.  The set up was perfect and so was the
merchandise.  All we needed to do was to get that new molecular
spectrographic analyzer that Quest had developed.  With that out of the
way, the authorities could have investigated all they wanted and no one
could have proved our merchandise was fake.  But, no, you had to blow
the assignment.  Then, not only did we have the equipment problem, but
we had the Quests breathing down our necks."

"I tell you, the Quests did not end up here because they knew what was
going on!  It had to have been coincidence that the Egyptian government
called them in."

"Yeah.  Right," the stranger said.  "Just like it was coincidence that
they turned up in London at the same time we were there to restock the
manufacturing supplies!  And that little brat of yours just *had* to
start a harassment campaign against the Bannon girl, didn't she?"

"Listen, Keller, you leave Francesca out of this.  If it hadn't been for
her we never would have gotten close enough to the Quests to slow them
down as much as we have.  And her harassment campaign kept them off our
backs in London, didn't it?  So I don't want to hear it."  Keller
jeered,

"Yeah, but what's she gonna do now?  I thought she was a pro.  At least
that what you assured Baxter when he hired you.  But now she's gone all
gaga over the Quest kid and she's as unreliable as they come."

"I've heard enough of th . . ."  A muffled noise from below caused them
to stop.  Jonny craned forward trying to see in through the trap door.
He spotted two Arabs dressed in native garb struggling to shift what
appeared to be a large packing crate over to the door that led to the
back alley.

"Don't drop it, you fool.  The stuff in that crate is worth a lot of
money.  Listen, Hamilton, I still say we'd be better off stashing the
stuff here and coming back for it after things cool off.  Those crates
are too big to be inconspicuous.  Someone's going to notice."

"And if things don't cool off?  What then.  If you think Baxter is
unhappy now, just imagine what he'll be like if we lose the merchandise
to a raid.  I'm getting rumbles that Bannon is pulling in outside help
to find out who did damage to his little girl.  That's a wild card we
can't control."  He uttered an ugly laugh.  "And what do you suppose he
will do to *you* when he finds out you're the one who systematically
beat his daughter into a bloody pulp?  No, the smart thing to do is get
out *now*; before they descend on us.  And as far as being inconspicuous
is concerned, that's what we pay all that money to the local authorities
for.  It's their job to be sure no one asks too many questions or gives
the wrong answers."

"Daddy . . ."  The soft, velvety voice that floated up from below turned
Jonny cold.  "Daddy, I think there's someone out there . . ."  He could
see her now as she moved farther into the room.  She was dressed all in
black and her hair was pulled back and anchored with a clasp at the nape
of her neck.  Everyone in the room below moved quickly through the
doorway toward the front of the shop.  Jonny scrambled quickly through
the trap door and dropped softly to the floor.  He was in!  He'd get
them all but he couldn't take then on all at once.  This was going to be
a war of attrition and he had to eliminate them one at a time.  He
smiled grimly.  At least now he knew who his targets were!

                              **********

The souk was silent and deserted.  Nothing moved anywhere in sight.
Race and Benton crouched in the shadows watching the door of the
antiquities shop.  Carefully hidden men were placed at strategic points
around the shop and in the alley.  The strike team leader assured Race
when he arrived that nothing had gotten in or out of the shop since
before nightfall.  The two men exchanged a grim look.  The boy was here
. . . they both knew it.  And they also knew what it was like trying to
stop him when his mind was set on something.

As Race prepared to give the signal to begin moving toward the shop a
sudden movement in one window froze everyone.  It had been subtle . . .
just the twitch of a curtain.  But it was enough.  Someone was in that
shop.  And whoever it was was keeping watch on the souk.  Cold fingers
ran up Race's spine.  Instinct told him something was about to break.
He signaled everyone to hold.  For ten long minutes the strike team held
it's position.  Then, a wild cry came from inside the shop and a body
suddenly crashed through a boarded up window to lay unmoving in the
dirt.  More cries followed and three Egyptian natives erupted from the
front door and ran screaming through the empty night.

Race surged to his feet.

"Heaven help us, he got in!  Come on!"  But suddenly the night was cut
by new sounds that echoed through the empty air.  Gunfire . . . and the
sound of a woman screaming.  Race Bannon and Benton Quest were halfway
across the market toward that fateful shop before anyone else could
move.

                                 **********

The first one had been easy.  It was one of the men who had been moving
the crate.  A quick blow with a handy piece of pottery had put him out
of commission.  But an idea had come to him suddenly on how to even the
odds a bit.  The room was lit only by a single overhead light and two
dimly flickering oil lamps.  Jonny dragged the native man to one corner
quickly and got him propped up by hanging him by his clothes from a
convenient hook.  So far, so good.  Also good . . . he was in native
dress.  The long, flowing, dirty white robe would give the right
effect.  Now, where was it?  He and Jessie had seen it when they snooped
in here the first time.  Ah, ha.  One old Egyptian burial mask,
hopefully a fake.  He placed the burial mask over the unconscious man's
face and anchored one arm up against a shelf with his sleeve.  Finally
he took one of the oil lamps and set it on the shelf by the man's hand.
Climbing up on the crate quickly he unscrewed the dim overhead bulb and
the room became a netherworld of shadows.  The flickers of light from
the oil lamps moved eerily across the suspended form and for one brief
instant he thought he could see the long dead pharaoh looking at him
through the mask.  A shudder passed through him quickly.  Now, if only
the stories of the superstitious nature of the locals were true.

He moved silently toward the curtained doorway to the front of the
shop.  No light showed from the room but someone had pulled back the
curtain across the front door and the silhouettes of seven people could
be seen as darker black shapes in the darkness.  Four wore native dress,
visible by shape in the darkness.  *Well, if this works it should take
care of half of them,* he thought.  His hands fumbled for a weapon of
some kind and closed on a long piece of wood, rounded and smooth.  He
moved until he was slightly behind and to the left of the one closest to
the boarded up window.  With lightening quickness he struck the man
across the back.  The man screamed in pain and fear.  The force of the
blow flung him against the flimsy boards and he crashed through and into
the dirty street where he lay unmoving.

Jonny was moving before the sound of the man's screams had died away,
slipping in among the masses of merchandise that cluttered the shop.
Curses filled the room and the three remaining Egyptians turned and fled
toward the back room.  They flung the curtain aside and were greeted by
the sight of an ancient pharaoh, risen from his tomb, to wreak vengeance
on the living.  Shrieking, the three men flung themselves in the
opposite direction and out the front of the shop.  In the ensuing chaos
two of the dark figures were flung to the floor.  One of them, Jonny was
sure, was Francesca.

He moved again and slid back into the back room and behind the packing
crate.  As he reach his hiding place the two men erupted into the room.
Keller, in the lead, stopped by the man hanging from the hook and began
to swear.

"Someone is in this store!  Find him!  Where is the cursed light?"
Brighter illumination suddenly shown as Francesca entered with a gas
lantern turned up full.  Now Jonny had a choice.  He would have to try
for one of them and hope Francesca was not quick enough to stop his move
for the door.  He tagged Keller as the more deadly of the two and chose
to try for him first.  The choice almost cost him.  He was fast and far
enough away that he saw Jonny coming.  Before Jonny could reach him he
pulled out a gun and took aim.  Jonny jackknifed to one side, landing on
his hands and one foot.  At the same time, he swung his free leg and cut
Keller's feet out from under him.  The gun went off with an explosive
sound and went flying from his hand as he hit the floor.  Jonny rolled
and dived for the gun.  But Hamilton also had a gun and Jonny felt the
passage of the air by his face as the first shot barely missed him.  He
gave up on the gun and was moving again as the second shot was fired.
But this time David Hamilton miscalculated.  Jonny's quick move had
taken him behind Keller.  The next shot fired caught Keller in the chest
as he sat up.  He fell back to the floor and lay unmoving.

In some distant recess of his mind Jonny could hear Francesca screaming,
but time seemed to have slowed to a stop.  He rolled again and his hand
came in contact with the long piece of wood he had used earlier.  He
shot to his feet in a crouch and swung twice with the staff.  The first
blow caught Hamilton across the upper arm and the gun went sailing
toward Jonny.  The second blow caught him across the temple and he fell
unconscious at his daughter's feet.  She bent for a fraction of a second
and then rose in fury ready to fling herself on their attacker, but she
stopped abruptly when she saw who it was.

Jonny Quest stood straight with his feet planted slightly apart.  He was
breathing hard and there was a wild light in his eyes.  His right hand
grasped David Hamilton's gun which was pointed straight at Francesca's
head.  She swallowed convulsively and held up one hand as if in
defense.  Her soft voice held real fear.

"Please, Jonny.  Please don't hurt me.  I never meant any harm.  I was
only doing what my father told me to do."  Her voice turned sweet and
cloying and she moved one step closer to him.  "Jonny, I really care for
you . . . would do anything you asked of me.  It was my father.  I had
to do what he told me.  Surely you see that."  The gun never wavered,
but his voice when he spoke was ragged,

"You took the best thing in my life away from me.  Maneuvered me into
treating her like . . ."  He stopped, breathing heavily.  And suddenly
Francesca shrieked at him.

"This is about HER?!!  That loud-mouthed, interfering little TRAMP?!?
You were MINE!  She had no right to be anywhere NEAR you.  Everything
was fine until she came along with her constant whining and
complaining.  All you ever talked about was Jessie this . . . and Jessie
that . . . and Jessie and I like to do this . . . and . . .and . . . if
she's dead, I'm GLAD!"

"Shut up.  SHUT UP!"  His face was white and pinched and his eyes back
as night in the strange light.  His grip on the gun tightened.  She
backed away from him, beginning to shake.  His voice was deadly and
cold.  "You're going to *pay* for what you did to her.  Right here.
Right now."

"Jonny, don't do this.  Please, don't do this."  The voice was quiet and
steady.  "This is wrong."  Race Bannon stood like a statue in the
doorway.  Benton Quest stood beside him.  A wave of a hand froze the
rest of the strike team.  Race knew the boy was on the edge.  One wrong
move could send him over.  And if that happened at least one more person
would be dead and his life would be shattered forever.  For all of his
desire to make someone pay for what had happened to his daughter, he did
not want this.

"This is murder."  Jonny's voice was harsh.

"Murder?  This isn't murder . . . it's *justice*.  A life for a life.
She caused Jessie's life to be taken away and now I'm going to take
hers."  Race could see his finger tighten on the trigger.  Desperately,
he said,

"Jonny, she's not dead.  Do you understand me?  *SHE'S  . . . NOT . . .
DEAD*!  In that split second the boy's resolve wavered.  Race stepped
forward quickly and placed his hand on the barrel of the gun.  Looking
Jonny straight in the face he said, "I swear to you, she's still
alive."  Confusion showed on his face.

"But I saw her die.  I heard the doctor . . ."

"You left too soon.  She rallied . . . came back.  Hadji called to her
just like he did to me.  Told her that she held *your* life in her hands
and that if she left us we would lose you as well.  And she came back
for *you*.  Don't throw that away on vengeance.  This isn't what she
would want.  Please, Jonny, let me have the gun."  Jonny looked to his
father blindly.  Benton stepped up and laid a hand on his arm.

"It's true, son.  We wouldn't lie to you.  *Please*.  Let him have the
gun."  Benton could feel Jonny's body beginning to shake as his death
grip on the gun loosened.  Race slid it from his grasp and handed it
back to one of the agency men.  Then he looked at Francesca.  His face
was cold and shuttered.  She shrank away from him and opened her mouth
as if to speak.  Race waved to one his men.

"Get her out of my sight."  Benton gathered his son into his arms and
held him tightly.  Race saw they were both shaking.  "And see if you can
round me up some transportation.  We're going back to the hospital.  You
can deal with this."

                              **********

Estella and Hadji looked up as Race walked in the door of the ICU ward.
Both rose to their feet and looked for their missing members.  Race
appeared to be alone.  He looked utterly exhausted.  Estella went white
and her knees started to buckle.  *They didn't reach him in time!  Oh,
Jessie . . .*  Race leaped forward and caught her as she sagged.

"No, Estella.  It's OK.  They're coming.  They just needed a little
time.  They'll be here in a minute."  She leaned against him,
light-headed and slightly sick.  He stroked her hair gently.  "How is
she?"  Estella tried to stand upright and found that her legs still
wouldn't hold her without support.  Race eased her to the bench.  She
looked up at him with a wan smile.

"Better.  She's grabbed on to life like it's a rope and she climbing it
as fast as she can."   He chuckled weakly.

"You've been spending too much time with Hadji."  Hadji asked quietly,

"Is Jonny really alright, Race?  We have been very concerned."  Race
rubbed his eyes.

"What's alright, Hadji?  He's alive, which is a miracle in itself.  He
didn't kill anyone apparently, which is even more of a miracle.  But he
was ready to.  Only the knowledge that Jessie was still alive stopped
him.  If she had actually been dead, I don't think we could have
prevented it.  Estella, this entire situation scares me.  Jonny has
always been a good kid.  Intense, in love with life, curious, strongly
loyal; but he's never been obsessive or morbid before.  I don't know
what's happened here.  And I don't know that he'll ever be the same
again."  It was Hadji who responded.

"But, Race, the very traits you said you knew were what drove him to
this.  Jonny has never done anything in small measures.  You know that.
When he realized he really cared for Jessie, it was not an idle
attachment.  He cares for all of us, but not the way he cares for his
father.  And what he found was that he cares for Jessie with the same
intensity as he cares for Dr. Quest.  I do not believe you would have
seen behavior any different if it had been Dr. Quest targeted rather
than Jessie.  And I do believe that given time he will come to be the
'Jonny Quest' you knew before . . . perhaps, just a little older and a
little wiser."  They all turned as they heard the door to the ICU ward
open.  The two Quests entered together.  Benton didn't hesitate.  He
turned Jonny toward the open door to Jessie's room and led him to the
bed.  As the hospital staff moved to stop them, Race, Estella and Hadji
blocked them.

"Give them a minute.."  As the nurses hovered with indecision, Benton
Quest stood next to the bed with his son.  Jonny stared blindly at the
monitors.  All recorded strong signs.  He shook his head and looked at
her.  Her breathing was easier and there was color beginning to show in
her cheeks.  Jonny was silent, staring at her.  Then he asked his
father,

"How did you survive when Mom died?"  His father was quiet for a long
time.

"I had you."  Both of them stood there for a little while longer and
then Benton led his son back into the corridor.  As they joined the
others, Jonny swayed on his feet.  All of them reached out to steady
him.  He looked at them, and finally said,

"I'm so tired . . ." and then he collapsed.

                               **********

Jessie woke for the first time about noon the next day.  Her mother was
standing by the bed and smiled at her when she saw awareness in her
eyes.

"Hi."

" 'Lo, Mom."  Her voice was rusty and low.

"How do you feel?"  Jessie considered it for a minute.

"Lousy."

"Well, it's to be expected.  But you're alive and that's all that
matters."

"Where's Jonny?"  Her mother smiled and shook her head.

"Your father would call both of you obsessive."

"Where's Jonny?"

"Jessie, it's alright . . ."

"Mom, where's Jonny?!"  Estella shook her head.

"Asleep in a room down the hall."

". . .'kay."  And she was asleep again.

**********

"She woke up briefly."

"How was she?"

"She wanted Jonny."

Race Bannon sighed.

*********

Jonny woke for the first time about six o'clock that night.  His father
sat by his bed.

"How do you feel?"  He considered it for a minute.

"Lousy."

"Go back to sleep."

"How's Jessie?"

"You don't need to worry about it.  Go back to sleep."

"How's Jessie?"

"Jonny . . ."

"Dad, how's Jessie!?"

"She woke up, asked about you and then went back to sleep.  Now you do
the same."

" . . . 'kay."  And he was out again.

                                   **********

"Jonny woke up this afternoon."

"So did Jessie."

"All he wanted to know was how she was."

"All she wanted to know was how he was."

Race and Benton both sighed.  Estella laughed.

When Jessie woke again the first thing she saw was Bugs Bunny.  He
hovered at the end of her bed, chewing on a carrot.  She stared at the
rabbit, perplexed.  "Eeee, what's up, Doc?"  Without thinking she
responded,

"Not much.  What's up with you?"

"Jess?!"  Bugs suddenly resolved into a cartoon character on a
television set.  Jessie rolled her head in the direction of the voice
and focused on the form at the side of her bed.  As she looked up the
figure turned into Jonny.  She smiled.

"Hi."  She looked at him critically.  "You look worse than I feel."

"It's been a rotten week."

"How long have I been out?"  He shrugged,

"Don't know.  I've kinda lost track of time.  Our parents would know 
. . . or Hadji."  Jessie frowned.

"I remember Hadji talking to me . . . I think.  He was saying something
about you."  Alarm flared in her eyes.  "Something about you being in
trouble."  He grinned at her with a ghost of his old smile.

"Oh, you know me . . . I'm *always* in trouble."  He touched her hair
softly.  "But it's over now.  We're goin' home soon.  Dad's getting the
final customs clearances and Race has borrowed an air ambulance.  We'll
leave as soon as you can travel."  He looked up at the room they were
in.  It was a basic hospital room, but not the ICU ward any longer.  "I
hate this place."

"But what about the antiquities?"

"They were fake.  Dad's proved it, the bad guys are in jail, and the
government is happy so we can go home."

"What about Francesca and her father?"  Jonny's face turned hard.

"They're out of circulation."

"Jonny . . ."  He shook his head.

"Just leave it at that for now, OK?  I don't really want to talk about
it."  She sighed.

"You really did get in trouble, didn't you?  That's what happens when
I'm out of commission and Hadji's gone.  No one to ride herd on you."
He reached down and caught her hand, taking it carefully in both of his.
His voice was unsteady as he replied,

"Just don't get that way again, OK?  I found out I'm not real good in
situations like this and I don't want to have to cope with it again."

"OK, how about this?  You try and stay out of trouble and I'll try and
stay in one piece.  Deal?"

"Deal.  There's just one more thing . . ."  Releasing her hand, he
brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

"What?"

"Oh, just a little unfinished business . . ." and he leaned over and
kissed her.

Unnoticed by either of them, the rest of the Quest clan drew back and
closed the door.  They had earned some time alone . . .

                              **** EPILOG *****

Benton Quest sat in his favorite chair with a book propped in his lap.
Clear summer sunshine came through the big picture windows that
overlooked the side yard of the Quest Compound.  In the distance, the
sea shimmered.  He could smell the scent of the flowers planted just
outside and birds sang sweetly in the trees out in the courtyard.  From
a distance he could hear the sound of laughter.  The kids were somewhere
outside playing one of their specialized games.  What was it Jonny had
called it?  Motorized Renegade Ninja Croquet?  He didn't think he even
wanted to know what that was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flash by the window and
looked up.  Whatever it was included the sound of Jessie's laughter.

"Hey, come back here!"  Jonny dashed by the window, followed closely by
Hadji.  Jessie reappeared balancing gracefully on his son's hoverboard
about five feet off the ground.  Benton's heart contracted sharply.

"That's not fair!"

"It is not in the rules, Jessie."

"Sure it is.  Rule number 157 . . . controlling player establishes
ground rules at change of possession.  New ground rule is you have to
*catch* me and then the ball goes in play.  But maybe the hoverboard
isn't fair . . ."  She sailed to the ground and jumped off, snatching it
up and setting off at a run with both boys chasing her.

She still limped slightly, Benton noticed.  But after almost six months
of therapy it was only noticeable when tried to run.  And Jonny had said
something about all of them going climbing with the local outing club
this weekend.  It had been hard, not being over-protective of her when
they got home.  She had been coddled and pampered and sheltered by all
of them until she finally lost her temper and told them to bug off.  She
would do this herself.

And do it she had.  For a while it had been bad and there had been more
doctors than he cared to think about.  They had all known she was tough,
but their respect rose to new heights as she struggled to come back from
her injuries.  She had told him once that the day would come when no one
would ever know she had been hurt.  He hadn't believed it then . . . he
did now.

Like an explosion, the three of them erupted into the house.  Jonny
reached out and grabbed her from behind, swinging her around as he
pulled her against him.

"Gotcha'!"  She tossed her head back onto his shoulder and laughed
breathlessly.

"Ok, ok, you win.  Oh, hi, Dr. Quest.  We didn't disturb you, did we?"

"Hi, Dad!"  Benton smiled at all of them, an overwhelming feeling of
gratitude rising up inside of him.  Hadji had been right all along.
Jessie was too strong to be beaten and his son was back to normal.

"No, Jessie, you didn't disturb me."  Jonny set her back on her feet and
slid his arm around her waist, hugging her against him unashamedly.  She
looked up and smiled radiantly.

"Everything is just fine."


THE END

Debbie Kluge
raoul1@advant.com