Meeting of the Minds - Ch. 3 Just Like Old Times

MEETING OF THE MINDS - Ch. 3 "Just Like Old Times"

Yeah, I know it's not "Dinner Date." I'm not going to make this a huge epic. It was going to be long, dark and action-packed, but I'll settle for short, sweet and good.

Disclaimer: Characters and associated details are property of Hanna-Barbera and are used for non-profit entertainment purposes only.

Archiving permission granted.

THE FUTURE (PAST) ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: Wherever they go, trouble follows.

Categories: E, F, JQ/JB HR

"Meeting of the Minds" - Chapter 3

by Eric R. Umali

"Just Like Old Times"

At eight fifty-three the next morning, a well-rested and much more optimistic Jessica Bannon took her seat in the spacious ballroom that was serving as the conference's main lecture hall. She nodded to a couple of colleagues as she picked a seat in the fifth row- not the very front, but close enough, just the way she liked it.

Jessica shuffled her papers around, placing the day's itinerary on the top of the pile, securing them all on her clipboard. She took a quick look around the room.

At the front of the room was a raised dais with a podium, with a short row of seats behind it. Just taking their own seats there were the host company's CEO, Patrick McCann, and a number of his Vice-Presidents and other officers. McCann said something to Raymond DuFour, his head of security. DuFour nodded and headed for the rear of the room.

The room was quickly filling to its capacity of two hundred. Jessica glanced towards the two entrances to the room, and there they were, just as she expected- a pair of the excellent security guards stationed at each door. Throughout the conference, Jessica had been impressed by the security setup. No mean feat, as she considered herself something of a connoisseur of the subject. The guards- men and women both, she noted- were constantly present at every single event of the conference, but nearly invisible to the untrained eye. Whoever had arranged it all was an experienced and accomplished professional, and, she was sure, a very well-paid one.

Just as her watch turned to 9:00 AM exactly, the doors were closed. The guards stayed on the outside of them, though Jessica was able to spot the three or four "camouflaged" personnel in the audience. McCann took the podium.

"Good Morning, everyone, and welcome to the fourth day of this year's ComTech Conference," he began brightly. It was obvious that McCann had not been up late debating the merits of the newest choices in computer networking solutions or operating systems, as had many of the attendees.

"I hope you're all enjoying your stays, and I hope you've taken the time to enjoy some of the wonderful things that San Diego has to offer."

A few bespectacled Lucent representatives behind Jessica snickered. She sighed, remembering how she'd spotted them across the street from her the day before exiting the local Hooters, giggling like grade school kids.

"Now, I'm sure everyone would like to get straight to the point-"

"That's damn right!"

The interrupting shout came from the rear of the room, and was soon followed by a loud ripping noise that Jessica identified immediately as automatic gunfire. *A Heckler & Koch MP5,* she thought. *I've been shot at by enough of them to know.*

She and everyone else who hadn't dived under the chairs spun around to find Raymond DuFour holding the weapon in question, which still smoked after tearing a jagged line in the ceiling.

"What in blazes is going on, Raymond?" demanded McCann.

"Isn't it obvious, boss?" DuFour answered, striding forward towards the dais. "You're all my hostages."

**********

Jon was just finishing his alteration of Continental Airlines' records. It now showed a J. Quest arriving that afternoon from New York's LaGuardia airport. His comlink beeped on the dresser where he'd left it. He fitted the headset he used when in his room on and activated it.

"Go ahead."

"Sir, it's Nash," said the voice on the other end. The man sounded shaken. "We have a situation."

"Report, Nash."

"You'll need to get to the staging area conference room ASAP, sir. I'll give you particulars en route."

Without bothering to attempt a disguise or even acknowledge Nash, Jon slammed his computer closed and bolted out the door. He sprinted down the stairs as his assistant filled him in on what had happened so far. Nash had heard the gunfire and responded immediately, only to find the entrances to the main ballroom heavily barricaded and manned by heavily-armed security guards that he didn't recognize.

He'd headed for the small conference room that Jon's security forces had used as a staging area for their efforts, looking for reinforcements. When Jon arrived, he found the same thing Nash had- eight of their people, dead. Four wore the dark suits that were nearly a uniform, and the others were dressed to blend in with the attendees.

Jon pounded a fist against the wall. "Damn!" He turned to Nash. "Did all of the attendees make it to the morning meeting?"

"All of them, sir."

"So we have four outside- two at each door- and four inside?"

Nash nodded. "Along with about two hundred very nervous nerds."

*And Jess,* Jon reminded himself. He was worried for all of about ten seconds, and it stopped when he glanced at his watch.

**********

Jessica scanned the room, looking for whatever opening she could take. DuFour was behind the podium, as he had been for the last fifteen or twenty minutes, ranting on and on about some social anarchist agenda she was convinced he only half believed himself. Two of the ersatz security guards flanked the dais, and the other two stood behind the attendees' seats, so they could catch any potential heroes and punish them with a maximum of collateral damage.

Suddenly, something buzzed on Jessica's arm. The first time, she swatted at her wrist. The second time, she looked down.

Jessica had left behind a lot of things when she left the Quest fold, the most notable being the color pink. But one thing she kept was the technological Swiss army knife that was the Quest Team watch. Pulling even more of her attention from DuFour, she kept her eyes on the watch face as characters scrolled across its face.

She tried to keep from smiling, but she did begin to feel sorry for the terrorists. Jessica was a bit surprised that he had gotten into town so early, but then she had no idea where he'd been before, and Jon had a habit of surprising her.

She tapped the comlink control once, the old signal for "yes."

<CASUALTIES?>

Two taps. *Ah, adrenaline rush...* she mused. *Nothing like it.*

<4 BADGUYS OUTSIDE>
<# INSIDE?>

Five slow taps. Casually, Jessica glanced around. No one was paying her any attention.

**********

"Five?" Jon asked out loud. He was seated in the lobby while Nash took care of interfacing with San Diego's finest. The rest of the hotel's guests were being evacuated. The ranking police officer, a Capt. Singer, very nearly laughed in Jon's face when the young man had ordered the men in blue to be put under his command. Jon had pulled the man aside, shown him an extremely convincing set of credentials, and gave him a Washington, D.C. phone number to call if he had further questions.

Capt. Singer had called, and acquiesced immediately.

Jon began reviewing profiles of the attendees in his head. Every single person, from all the attending companies had had their backgrounds thoroughly checked. Not a single one of them showed any potential for something like this. Some malicious computer hacking, definitely. A particularly mean-spirited college prank, sure. But not terrorism.

These men and women were technologists. Even McCann, and his VPs, even though their primary focus was business and administration, had strong science backgrounds. They had to, or they'd have no idea what their company was doing.

And then it hit him. There was one person in that room who didn't fit either description. The only person capable, both mentally and logistically of pulling this off.

**********

<DUFOUR?>

Jessica tapped once.

She looked around, blessing the years of adventuring. She tapped once.

<2 MINS>

Two taps. She'd need longer.

<5 MINS>

*Just a little longer.*

<10 MINS>

One tap.

*You, too, Hotshot,* she replied. *Just like old times.* Jessica looked up at DuFour, who was just finishing his speech, perspiring and swaying as if he'd been preaching. She shook her head. He had no idea just how out of luck he was.

TO BE CONTINUED...