Author's Note - This has to be one of the least updated on but I promised myself I should finish it especially as those of you who have grown to hate Adelaide Washington have done so with such a real and deep-seated passion! …. mcj

POSSESSIONS – CHAPTER FOUR

THE NIGHTMARE FROM HELL - PART TWO

"REALITY ANSWERS"

The breathing through the drop-down microphone was laboured and so erratic it sounded like it was being sucked right from the depths of his soul.

Three worried faces continued to exchange anxious glances.

The wheeze of distress said it all.

This guy didn't have very long.

He'd barely been able to tell them he thought his name was Mark. The word trapped in his throat as he said it, stifled by fear and a tightened dryness only lying under slabs of concrete could bring.

Mark.

He hadn't gone on to elaborate that he didn't even like it. Who would if they were in his situation? Children named after their Grandfather were normally given the honour out of love or family tradition.

Not him.

He had only been named after his Grandfather in a pathetic attempt to extract money.

Struggling to stay alive, crushed under tons of banked up rubble, Mark Washington still found the energy to scoff. Thirty-one years ago his Grandfather had promised two-thirds of his entire fortune to the first of his three wayward children to provide him with a Grandson. Needless to say, eldest son James saw the dollar signs first and couldn't procreate fast enough to produce the desired result.

Money.

What good was money at the moment? Money wasn't going to give him back the feeling in his arms and legs. Money wasn't going to miraculously strip away the slabs of concrete entombing him in this murky grave. His late mother had been right when she said money was useless when it came down to the things that mattered.

Money couldn't buy him life.

Mark groaned loudly as he felt the mountainside tremor again and the ripples of excruciating pain shudder down his back.

It was going to be OK, he breathed deeply, trying to focus on the positive. International Rescue was up there. Yeah …if anyone could get him out of this mess, International Rescue could. He just wished it wasn't taking them so long.

"Be patient Washington and let them do their job." an inner voice berated him. "It can't be easy trying to find a way to shift all that concrete."

At that particular moment the tall young man in the distinctive blue uniform would have been happy to take the time to agree with him.

"We're going to have to wind this down fellas." John Tracy mouthed as quietly as he could. "Latest indication from the satellite is the whole darn thing's gonna go."

Mark closed his eyes. So that was it then. It was time to meet his maker. They thought he couldn't hear them but he'd heard everything for the past three long painful hours. It seemed so ironic that when one was on the edge of death, one became so much more adept at listening to a conversation. For years he'd simply switched off when he was spoken to, only hearing what he wanted to hear and to hell with all the rest. Now he greedily absorbed every word by those International Rescue guys as if it was the most important thing in his universe.

He continued to listen to the conversation. The urgency of it left no doubt they were committed to their job. One, the one with the gentle voice, argued even with another avalanche coming, there was still enough time to break up the concrete and get him the hell out. Five minutes more, he stated firmly and the silence which followed made it more than a little obvious he expected the others to listen to him.

Mark couldn't help but admire such bravery. There was no way he'd ever hang around on an unstable mountainside trying to save some guy he'd never met.

No Sir.

Being a Washington was all about self-preservation.

As the seconds ticked on it was clear the others had agreed with him. All they were debating now was how quickly they'd be able to get into the air if the "kid" radioed in from "Five" again and they were given the order to evacuate. Mark couldn't help but wonder who the "kid" was and what role he was playing in the middle of all of this.

Who cared?

It didn't matter what anybody's "kid" did as long as International Rescue got him out of here alive.

"Mark... Mark listen to me..."

Now it was the distinctive voice of the second one. He sounded strained but still very much in control of the situation.

Strong.

Precise.

Authoritative.

At least that made him feel a little bitter.

"Mark, whatever you do down there stay calm." John Tracy stressed, "We're going to get you out. We just need to work through a fewcomplications we're having with geographical stability at the moment. "

There it was again; that terrible uncontrollable urge to laugh.

Geographical stability ... complications...

Mark Washington scorned himself with an almost silent bitterness. Who the hell did they think they were kidding? The geographical instability of a mountainside on the edge of collapse was hardly a minor complication.

"Mark ... can you hear me?"

John Tracy paused momentarily and stared in the direction of the pile of thick grey mangled concrete. It didn't sit too well with him that there seemed to be nothing coming from underneath it but an eerie stone cold silence.

"Damn it."

The words echoed only seconds before he felt his teeth sinking into the soft fullness of his bottom lip. How much trepidation should a man have to feel waiting for the reply of a faceless stranger? A gasp ... another moan ... he'd accept anything at the moment ... just as long as whatever he heard let him know Mark was still right there with them.

"Damn it Mark. Answer me!" he growled. Didn't this guy understand the risks they were taking with their own lives at the moment?

But as the silence continued, thoughts of negativity continued their inevitable dance in his head. Were they risking their lives for nothing? Had Mark already died?

The taste of blood in his mouth told John he was past the point of being tense. He didn't know what the heck to think any more. Releasing the damaged lip and savagely wiping it clean with the bottom of his sleeve, all he could think about was how his Grandmother would grumble at him, if, or when he finally managed to make it home. She made no secret of the fact he bit his lip when he was worried.

"John dear," he almost heard her say right now, "you know that sort of thing can't possibly be doing you any good."

John shrugged and decided the last thing he needed to think about at the moment was the opinion of his elderly Grandmother. No, biting his lip wasn't doing him any good, but out here it was the only coping mechanism he had.

"Damn it," he muttered for a third time, running his tongue over the wound and trying to remain in control. He sure could use some of Scott's tough, half-barked instructions right now.

"Break the final slab into sixteen." he finally managed to direct.

It didn't help when Virgil jerked his head upwards and baulked at the order immediately.

"Sixteen?" he frowned. "You think that's wise?"

Two blonde eyebrows soon knitted together too.

"It's standard procedure." was the stony reply. "Minimises injury."

Virgil Tracy remained cool under the force of his brother's cold and tight-lipped glare. It may have been standard procedure at any other time but he'd been involved in too many near misses not to stand his ground on this one. Risking the Thunderbird machines to an avalanche was one thing. Risking their lives so this Mark guy came out with a few less scratches on his ass was definitely something else again.

"I estimated we only had five minutes." he snapped, the words of authority a stark contrast to his usual calm. "and that was four minutes and fifty one seconds ago."

John eyed him and Virgil resisted the temptation to insist it wasn't good protocol for International Rescue to argue. Quiet and thorough, a thinker from birth and ridiculously stubborn when it came to an argument, he knew John never committed himself to anything without careful consideration of the consequences. He could also tell he didn't agree.

The slope trembled again.

Almost simultaneously Virgil's jaw squared.

Too bad if he didn't agree. They had to get the hell off this mountainside.

"Little brother ..." he found himself insisting more forcefully, "I'd suggest we get the beam on the centre of that slab NOW!"

Underneath the rubble Mark listened, still trying his best not to panic. So they were brothers. He had to admit he'd long since guessed. He wished he'd had a brother as he was growing up…someone to talk to… someone to share things with… maybe someone he might have even grown to love.

He certainly hadn't been on the receiving end of too many displays of family love and devotion. His Mother had tried her best, he supposed, but his Father had been always been obsessed with nothing but money and possessions...and building up the fortune in his damned Engineering Company.

Anger at his Father temporarily distracted him from his situation. Washington Industries had been his Father's everything over the course of thirty-one painful years. Yeah well so much for the powerful Washington Industries now.

"Hey down there… you still with us Mark?"

Mark was quickly jolted back to the dire world of the present. This third guy had a sense of humour. Why else would he say moan once if you are all right, moan twice really loud if you aren't and then joke about him moaning three times and not knowing what it meant.

"Guess you're stuck with me until my buddies finish cutting you out." Gordon Tracy assured him. "They figure you and I might wanna talk about life and what you'd be doing right now if you weren't stuck down there killing time under a pile of goddamn concrete."

So now they were resorting to diversion, Mark groaned silently to himself. Why not? He was very easily diverted. She'd been extremely good at it during the three short years they'd been married. Using her incredible attractiveness, she'd managed to take his mind off lots off things he regretted…the fact he'd ruined his Father's Company ... the fact she'd made him believe she loved him…and worst of all the fact she'd screwed herself into the position where for nearly six months he really believed he'd been able to Father a child.

Yeah, it was easy for a man with no scruples to allow himself to be diverted; so what was the difference now?

"So what do you say Mark?" the voice echoed from above him. "You wanna talk about the meaning of life? It'd sure take your mind off things for a while if you did. "

In the pause that followed, it occurred to Mark Washington he'd like to meet this young guy if he ever managed to get out of here alive. The world needed more people like him... someone who could make him relax, joke about a little and still care enough about the welfare of others to take the risk with his own life.

"Yeah … OK ..." he managed to rasp.

Gordon Tracy breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to nod and wave his hands vigorously at his brothers. Mark didn't sound too good but at least they knew he was still alive.

"Great!" he shot back. "Just stick with me buddy. It won't be long now."

Mark closed his eyes. He appreciated what they were trying to do of course, but he'd much prefer to just lie here and let this guy talk about himself.

He couldn't bear to talk about own life and the mess he'd managed to make of it.

XXX

Born and raised in California, Mark James Washington was only too aware he was the son of a marriage long since devoid of love. His Mother was a social butterfly who spent her time following fashion.

His Father was a prominent businessman.

A ruthless businessman.

Suppertime always revolved around Washington Industries and details of his Mother's social circle. Discussions were never about school, or his friends or homework. Discussions always centred on who was wearing what in Hollywood and in his Father's case, the latest strategies for expansion, investment and making more and more money.

He was never academically minded but neither of his parents seemed too concerned about the number of D's on his report card. It wasn't until it came to making applications for College that his Father realised it was a problem. However, nothing ever stood in the way of the powerful James Washington. He simply "paid" to have a place made available for his little boy to study commerce in College, almost in the same way he'd "paid" to make very sure he graduated.

"I didn't want to go to College." the voice above him was admitting. "Boy oh boy did my Dad explode when I stood there and refused to go."

Mark grimaced.

Explode.

What a relevant word.

Back then his Father only ever "exploded" when Company stock fell or the profit margin was reduced. He couldn't have cared less about his wife and only son. Mark soon began to understand why his Mother found comfort in her friends and spending up big on Rodeo Drive with her credit card. At least she was getting something out of the menial life she had been forced to carve out for herself even if it wasn't happiness.

He, on the other hand, took solace in something far more dangerous than a credit card. From the moment he graduated from College, there was no shortage of female company for the heir to the Washington fortune and he had no qualms about physically immersing himself in their charms every single night of the week.

"I've never really understood why people get so uptight over career choice and money." Gordon Tracy rambled. "A College degree wasn't going to make me a better person Mark. You have no idea how many times I had to say that to convince my Dad."

Mark sighed and wished his life could have been as simple and uncomplicated as this guy's seemed to be. He obviously didn't care about money if his only aim in life was to be a better person. He sure wouldn't cut it as a Washington that was decidedly sure. To a Washington, money was the only thing ever allowed to matter.

Too bad all it seemed to attract was disappointment, shallowness and lies.

The tears began to well in Mark Washington's eyes. Money had been the only reason she'd involved herself with him in the first place and he had definitely received more than his fair share of her disappointment, shallowness and lies.

The hot salty liquid trickled slowly down his face. What did it matter anyway? She wouldn't be getting any more money out of him and thanks to the court ruling against Tracy, she wouldn't be able to get her hands on any of the Tracy fortune either. It almost made the pain of the last few days seem worthwhile.

Mark's chest heaved.

No he was wrong.

Nothing would ever take away the pain of the fact he had lied under oath to stop Tracy accessing baby Daniel.

It was better and less painful to think about her and wish they'd never met.

XXX

By the time he'd reached the age of thirty-one, he was very satisfied with his life. Thanks to Washington Industries he awoke each morning comfortable he would enjoy the best of everything … fast car … token job … and an endless supply of money.

Life in California was fast for Mark Washington and life in California was good.

Until the night he met the beautiful Miss Adelaide Reynolds.

He was visiting Manhattan at the time after recently being elevated to the position of Company Director. A good promotion, his Father pointed out, and one he should be grateful for too, considering it was common knowledge in the Company he could hardly read or write.

A flippant shrug of the shoulders indicated to his Father he couldn't care less what was common knowledge in the Company. He controlled the purse strings so who the hell cared?

His Father didn't appreciate his concerns being dismissed and made no bones about the fact he was required to earn his keep. The visit to Manhattan was important. The Company was in a slump and it needed contracts on the east coast. To do that he needed to learn a thing or two about aerospace before he opened his mouth. Tracy was no push-over on his home turf.

"You have no idea what a ruthless bastard he can be," his Father warned, "so the first thing you have to do is educate yourself in the way he thinks. Now ... he's leaving that island of his next week to speak to the world about aerospace, and I want you in the front row of that conference paying attention."

The flippancy soon faded. The look on his Father's face told him he meant it.

And thus he'd found himself at the huge world-wide aerospace conference in Manhattan where Jefferson Grant Tracy, billionaire head of the Tracy Corporation and ex-NASA Astronaut had been engaged to speak about the latest trends in aircraft. His Father had already made it clear he didn't have a lot of time for Mr. Jefferson Grant Tracy, believing him to be rather arrogant, and when the tall well dressed man entered the room and made his way to the podium, Mark Washington very nearly believed it.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Jefferson Tracy exuded the ultimate of power. His eyes were crystal clear; his glare reflected the military; and his voice was nothing short of deep, rich and authoritative. More importantly, and just like his father had said, Jeff Tracy knew about aircraft and had more than a wealth of expertise when it came to designing the best of it.

However, despite his dominating presence he turned out to be quite a decent man. He answered all questions from the floor with impeccable charm, displayed a genuine cutting wit and never failed to acknowledge they were all very worthy adversaries in business. The difference of course, and Jeff Tracy knew it, was the fact that the Tracy Corporation had the edge. He was the one who had gone to the moon and questioned everything. He was the one who continued to spend up big when it came to embracing new technology. As a result, he was the only one who could design and produce the finest aircraft in the world.

And Tracy didn't give a damn if people liked what he had to say about it or not.

Funnily enough it hadn't been Jeff Tracy who struck him as the one with all the arrogance. From the moment he set eyes on him, Mark Washington had been more than taken back at the brash, almost cocky behaviour of his talented eldest son.

Scott Tracy swaggered into the conference cocktail party late and with so much self-assurance it was almost like he expected the world to recognise his presence. He was every bit as tall as his Father, had the same crystal clear blue eyes, and exuded nothing but ice-cool confidence. Jeff Tracy smiled benevolently when his son entered the crowded room and had no hesitation in motioning him forward to join in the conversation.

Mark Washington quietly sipped his brandy in a darkened corner of the room watching the Tracy son oblige.

Scott Tracy was intelligent and astute, but unlike his Father, he had very little time for trivial conversation. When he was congratulated for being decorated at such a young age by the United States Air Force, he simply smiled with a distant smugness and politely nodded his head. When he was asked about his own aircraft design "Excelsior", he said he had no comment other than it was the best aircraft he'd flown. When his role in the Tracy Corporation became the topic, he casually swirled the scotch in his glass, laughed, and said he thought his role was rather obvious.

To Mark Washington, it appeared Scott Tracy thought he was a pretty good operator, not only around aircraft but in the art of seducing women. His eyes flirted with every woman in the room and from the very first moment he arrived, each and every one of them seemed ready to give him exactly what he wanted.

Charm.

Money.

Charisma.

The heir to the Tracy fortune had it all.

And Mark Washington couldn't help but detest the man immediately.

She hadn't been a guest at the cocktail party that night, so at least when they met, the conversation didn't revolve around Tracy. The Hilton at midnight was a welcome distraction from the noise and humdrum of the aerospace conference and when Mark Washington entered the stylish bar and saw her sitting in the corner alone, he had a feeling in his bones he might just be about to get lucky.

He approached her as if he had no control over it, slipping onto the red leather stool beside her and offering to introduce himself over a drink. Mark Washington, he repeated over the rim of the squat little glass, son of James Washington, Washington Industries. Washington Industries, he stressed when it didn't seem to impress her; the multi-million dollar corporation based in California…

At the mention of word "multi-million", her indifference quickly faded.

"Tell me more." she urged, her hand caressing the outer edge of her glass of French champagne.

Much as he wanted to forget about the business world and concentrate on earning some privileges, he stupidly went on to oblige. Latest profit margins and newly projected incomes dribbled like honey off the tip of his tongue.

Once his Fathers wealth was firmly established she told him her name was Adelaide Reynolds and briefly extended her hand. She was very pleased to make his acquaintance. He had to forgive her of course. She didn't know too much about California having only visited there once with her old boyfriend. Washington Industries sounded fascinating.

He really should stay here longer and tell her a little more.

He smiled and carefully manoeuvred his way around the subject of another man, nervous he might still be somewhere close to the scene and anxious to learn his whereabouts.

Her reply should have sounded alarm bells to any man half in possession of his senses. She shrugged her narrow shoulders indifferently and said she didn't care a damn where he'd ended up. She was still thanking God she didn't have to live near a wretched Air force base in Nevada anymore, taking second place to an Air Force Uniform and every kind of stupid jet.

"It was all he cared about Mark." she huffed taking a large mouthful of the champagne in her glass. "It was a hopeless relationship. Let me tell you something right now … after that disaster I don't involve myself with any man who has yearnings to see the world from an aircraft."

He swallowed his scotch, eyed her, and proceeded to make his move.

"Lucky for me then I meet the criteria." he said before holding his breath to see how positively she would react. It went without saying he was soon rewarded with a manicured hand reaching out to touch his thigh.

"I never had any doubt a man like you had yearnings in much more important areas than aircraft."

His whole body tingled as his eyes levelled with hers. She was beautiful …tall, blonde and irresistibly attractive, with a pair of legs that went on forever. Her dress was low-cut ... her perfume was intoxicating.. Nothing was more certain she was prepared to grant him passage.

Under the rubble Mark Washington cringed.

No wonder he'd found himself in bed with her before dawn broke over Manhattan. No wonder he went on to fall deeper and deeper under her spell. No wonder he begged her to come back to California with him when his three weeks in Manhattan were over. She had managed to convince him he was greatest lover in the world and he couldn't possibly live the rest of his life without her.

"Oh God." he whispered in a shamed agony. He didn't want to think about easily he'd been fooled.

The pain in his gut grew worse.

And when she wouldn't come, he was so desperate; he dangled his Father's money as the carrot he knew would persuade her. He promised her everything money could buy. He even promised to marry her if that was what she wanted. Stupidly believing a ring on her finger was the answer, he went down on one knee and made the desired proposal.

She accepted on the condition he invested in a condo in Manhattan. They said a hasty "I do" less than one week later. The condo he selected had a great view of Central Park and the ridiculous price tag more than adequately made up for the fact even his Father couldn't afford one overlooking the Hudson River. A view of the river wasn't all that important, he told her. They wouldn't be in Manhattan all that often to notice. She needed to remember he had business to attend to in the boardrooms of California.

Then and only then did her true personality surface. Where the hell did he get the idea they were going to spend their lives in California? Surely whatever he did could be handled just as easily from New York.

Make no mistake, she told him. If he wanted a wife, he most certainly had one, but as far as California was concerned that was where it all well and truly ended.

The noose tightened securely around his neck. She was now Mrs. Mark Washington and in the absence of any forethought about some kind of legal agreement, half of everything he had was hers.

Including a claim to Washington Industries.

When he finally found the courage to explain what had happened to his Father, James Washington literally exploded. Was he so starved for love that he'd gone and lost every ounce of common sense? How could he go ahead and marry someone he'd only just met in some Hotel bar in Manhattan? How could he believe all she wanted was for him to be satisfied and happy? Didn't he have any kind of brains at all?

He had looked at his Father in disillusioned disappointment.

Satisifed?

Happy?

Was leaving his mother alone night after night the secret to satisfying her and being happy? Was plotting, planning and contriving ways to make more money than the next bastard the secret to putting a special smile on her face?

No it wasn't, he declared vehemently and he wasn't about to return to California and live his own life in the same pathetic way. Adelaide was everything to him.

He could do what he needed to do from a boardroom in Manhattan.

His Father couldn't believe it.

And sadly, neither could the Company he had nurtured to greatness for the past thirty-one years.

In less than three months, and before anyone, including him, realised what the heck had happened, a black credit card and Adelaide Washington's impeccable "taste" managed to destroy Washington Industries.

XXX

Mark Washington cringed again.

He would never forget the look on his Father's face the day Jeff Tracy took over the reins of his Father's company. He had never felt so guilty about anything else in his life. Luckily Tracy was decent about it, making the effort to fly to Manhattan to personally receive the final papers.

Tracy stood by the window of his Office for a long time, squeezing his Father's shoulder and reassuring him he'd always have a job with the Company in California if he wanted it. When his Father declined and said he'd prefer to retire from the aerospace business, Tracy had smiled genuinely and said he understood.

"I think I'd probably do the same thing myself under the circumstances James." he admitted in that powerful voice Mark Washington had learned to recognise so well.

That was followed by another squeeze of the shoulder and the offer of a warmly extended hand. Tracy might have said he understood how his Father was feeling about the takeover but he certainly wasn't going to give him any opportunity to change his mind.

"Enjoy your retirement James." he said sincerely. "I'm sure once you have some Grandchildren in your life you won't regret your decision."

At that moment his Father's eyes clouded even more. He didn't want to give Tracy the satisfaction of knowing there would never be any Washington grandchildren either. Tracy had five virile sons and the promise of many Grandchildren to follow. All his Father had was a son whose less than moral life-style had rendered him sterile at the age of twenty-five.

Mark's breathing began to grow shallow. He'd had enough of the past now. He didn't want to live through any more of his memories, especially anything to do with his past indiscretions and his inability to Father a child.

As the inevitiable blackness drew near, three words began to whirl around and around in his head.

"Sterility" …

"Greed" …

"Perjury" …

With that he began to gasp.

It was time now.

He couldn't take this any more.

"No Mark we're nearly through"

"Don't give up Mark."

"Mark just one minute more."

The black haze descended further. He deliberately shut out those three insistent voices. He didn't want one more minute. He didn't want any more minutes. More minutes meant dwelling on every sordid last detail of her affair with Tracy and the deception they had lived for the past twenty seven months.

"Sterility" …

"Greed" …

"Perjury" …

Deadly bullets in the game of money.

The game that nobody had won.

XXXX

Author's Note -I acknowledge the characterisation of this story makes many poeple uncomfortable, but it is not intended to belittle the characters or cause offence to people. I look upon Possessions these days as my AU story and one that allows me to explore the corporate giant that funds International Rescue.

XXXX