THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY
disclaimer - I would not could not own them there. I would not could not would not own them here. I would not could not on them on a star. I would not could not own them in a bar...I'm, how much tequila would I have had? Actually after about the 15th or 16th shot, I usually would just get really sleepy. Been a while since I could indulge like that. Sad part was I never got hung over. Sleep for a few hours, then get up and go about my business. Ticked off some people.
Oh, yeah. The disclaimer. (Clears throat) I do not own the Thunderbirds. I do not own them here or there, I do not own them anywhere.
CHAPTER ONE
A woman sat in the corner of the café of Hotel Café Royal, in the fashionable Mayfair District of London, sipping on her tea.
Most of the café was set up for elegant dining and quiet conversation. But in a small part of the bar, a news station, set to silent, was set up. Gesturing to an attendant when an image caught her eye, the woman was given an ear piece so she could listen to the news story.
…just received these images, released from Tracy Enterprises. Alan Tracy, youngest son of billionaire Jeff Tracy, married his childhood sweetheart, Tin-Tin Kyrano at the family home on Tracy Island. Both of the couple will be working for Tracy Enterprises, the bride working research and development with her newly acquired degree in Electronic Engineering from MIT and the groom having a degree in Mechanical Engineering from Harvard. Alan is also, as of last week, a New York Times bestseller with his first novel."
"Rebecca, the couple looks beautiful – like a casting call for a Disney fairy tale.
"Don't they, Mike? As you know, I have known the Tracys most of my life through my aunt and nicer people you won't meet. Alan has been through a great deal in his young life and has only seemed to come through the better for it. But now it looks like a page has been turned and the young couple, headed for a romantic honeymoon in Tuscany are destined for a happily ever after for their fairytale romance. We at Wolf News wish them all the best."
Coldly pulling out the ear piece, the woman handed it back. She had been trying to relax after her recent "tragedy". Really, her first husband died having been "poisoned" by the herbal healer his family had always used (the old woman should have really watched out and made sure no one tampered with her goods while brewing). Two years later, her second husband had committed suicide when he had "lost" his investors money – yeah right. Good thing she kept her own accounts under her maiden name.
And now, her latest spouse, dead when his housekeeper had found him with her sixteen year old daughter…it was amazing what some "herbal stimulants" and brainwashing could create – a situation so appalling that no one wanted to look to closely at the "grieving widow" who had quickly fled the country to escape the embarrassment.
And enjoy the money.
But now this. That little bastard was alive, well and apparently getting the happiness that had been denied her. But she had had years to research Alan Tracy. Years to figure out the truth behind the legend. To find someone who hated the "Golden Tracy" as much as she did. Tapping a file, she slipped it into her bag and stood up, exiting the café.
The concierge walked up to her in the lobby.
"Madame Yoshida," he asked politely, "how can we serve you?"
The concierge knew she had married twice more – that was his business, after all – but with one spouse a suicide who was responsible for a massive Ponzi scheme and a second a pervert murdered by one of his servants, anyone could understand why she had quickly gone back to her first husband's name.
"I need a car and directions to West Yorkshire," she said firmly.
"I can get a driver for you - "
"No, I need to go by myself. Just the car, Albert. Thank you."
Soon she was on her way, her GPS leading her ever closer to her ultimate goal – the destruction of Alan Tracy.
West Yorkshire England isn't really a bad place…By all accounts, it is a rather nice place, as places go.
Unless you happen to go to Her Majesty's Prison Wakefield.
The prison holds some of the most dangerous men in England, men who have committed atrocities so vile they are not mentioned in polite society. To call some of these men monsters is to be kind.
But one resident is called a monster even by his fellow inmates.
Trangh Belagant, more widely known as the terrorist "The Hood", was serving a term of no less than forty years and no more than one hundred. It was the Assurant of Her Majesty's court that the Hood would only be released when he was truly rehabilitated, when he earnestly believed that what he did was wrong.
It was a commonly held belief he would be there until he died.
The Hood received no visitors. That suited everyone fine as no one wanted to deal with him any more than they had to. He rarely left his cell, even his meals being brought to him by his cellmate, a monstrous man who went by the moniker of Mullion. A former professional fighter, the man had been banned from the sporting world when he began to enjoy his opponents pain a bit too much. No one objected to the Hood isolating himself – it spared the staff and the other inmates.
Some scientist, employed by a company in America, found that maintaining a machine that created a low frequency "white noise" disrupted the man's concentration when he was outside of the cell, making sure none of the "mind games" he had liked to employ when he first came to Wakefield would be of use. It was then the Hood began to refuse to leave his cell, preferring to sit and read and ignore most people around him.
A situation that suited everyone else just fine.
But today the Hood had a visitor. An elegantly dressed woman, with high end clothes and a half-veiled hat sat in a room that made a mockery of her designer wear. She had introduced herself as Rena Belagant and had paperwork that showed she was the prisoner's niece.
The Hood entered the room and silently moved to the table to sit down. Looking at the guards, they quietly backed to the door.
"You are not my niece," he said in Malaysian, not expecting her to answer correctly.
Yet she did.
Rena "Gina" Tanaka Yoshida smiled coldly at the Hood. "No. I am not. But what do you expect? They think all Asians look alike. I am Japanese, not Malaysian."
"Not completely," the Hood said coolly.
Lowering her head in what could be presumed as a nod, Gina agreed. "No. My mother was British. She died six weeks after the man I was supposed to marry died. My father informed her a marriage was being arranged for me, in an attempt to regain my family's honor. They felt I had disgraced them with my righteous anger towards the gaijin I held responsible for my love's death. Unfortunately for me, Mother's hotel was the sight of a terrorist attack and she never made it to Japan. I was quickly married off to a man five years older than my father."
"Hiromi Yoshida?" the Hood smirked. "Yes, I had heard he had married a much younger woman in a quest for heirs. He died less than six months later."
Smirking herself, Gina didn't bat an eye. "My husband was a firm believer in herbal therapies. The old woman who mixed his all-natural Viagra made a big mistake. The bigger mistake she made was trusting me to "hide" her book of remedies. I denied having it and have learned so much. Including how to blend solutions to many a problem. That would account for my next two husbands."
"Mind control?" the Hood asked.
"Among others. There were two brothers in America I thought would help me destroy the one who stole my true love from me. I fed the younger herbs to feed his rage and the elder ones to focus on protecting the younger, my berserker…Unfortunately, when the younger brother was killed by one of my enemy's foot soldiers, the elder brother descended into madness. I'll have to work on that. He has a brilliant mind and one that must not be lost to my cause," Gina mused.
"And why should any of this interest me?"
Slipping a newspaper clipping across the table, Gina's eyes were cold. "Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend – are you not?"
The Hood picked up the article, freshly printed and only hours old.
ALAN TRACY, YOUNGEST SON OF BILLIONAIRE JEFF TRACY, WEDS IN PRIVATE CEREMONY ON TRACY ISLAND
The picture, of a beaming Alan Tracy holding his niece, his rightful heir, Tin-Tin, closely, both of their faces shining with love and happiness, filled the Hood with anger.
"He dares to sully my blood with his worthless self?" the Hood hissed.
"Alan Tracy's godfather, who happens to be Jeff Tracy's attorney, campaigned to be the lawyer who made sure you are serving as long a sentence as he could manage. I wondered why – why would a man so respected in business law push to take on a case of alleged terrorism? It had to be personal. You supposedly not only attacked the Thunderbirds, but the Commander's son, a minor child at the time. Alan Tracy would have been what? Fourteen or fifteen at the time? I have spent a great deal of time trying to find a way to destroy Alan Tracy. And I have found it," Gina smirked. "His family. His family is everything to him. And I will toy with them as a mouse is toyed with by a cat. Injuries, scares, whatever it takes. Some may even die."
Gina leaned back with a cold look on her face. "Alan Tracy will want to die a thousand times over before he does."
"And what part do I play in this?" the Hood asked.
"For now, nothing," Gina smiled, a pleasant enough one if you missed her hate-filled eyes. "But I will find a way to get you out. And when I do, minor skirmishes will end. I will hold off on the war until I have my most honorable general, won't I?"
The Hood nodded. He knew Gina wanted to use him. That was fine by him. Yes, the enemy of my enemy was my friend. But you also kept both close by…
So much easier to ram a knife through their ribs like that.
In Tracy Two, Alan leaned back, holding Tin-Tin close to him as he tenderly kissed her sleeping head.
"You know, I won't tell if you guys want to do more than snuggle," Gordon smirked as he leaned in the doorway.
"No, you'd imply," Alan sighed. "That would be worse. Besides, Tin and I waited this long. We can wait until we are in Lady P's villa. Did you call Julie?"
Gordon shrugged. "I thought I'd surprise her. You really think she wants to see me? She did leave while you were still in the hospital."
"Gordo – she loves you. Don't blow this one. I think you would regret it for the rest of your life."
Smiling at his little brother, Gordon nodded. "I'm gonna do my best, Sprout."
Laughing, Alan shook his head. "Like Dad always says – that's all we can ask for. Now, shouldn't we be approaching Tuscany now?"
Nodding again, Gordon went back to the controls, removing the auto pilot as he talked to the control tower and plotted their decent. Soon…everything would be alright soon.
In the cabin, Tin-Tin sat up with a gasp.
"Sweetheart?" Alan asked in concern. "Are you alright?"
"The plane," Tin-Tin looked around nervously. "You were flying the plane and it went down…oh, God Alan…"
"Honey, I'm not even flying it right now," Alan laughed. "And I'm fine. We're fine…In fact," Alan said with an attempt at a leer, "you are amazing."
He nuzzled her neck with a low growl, making Tin-Tin laugh and then sigh. "Oh, yeah…fine," she sighed again.
"We'll be landing soon!" Gordon called out. "Buckle up and get your clothes back on."
Sighing again – not the pleasant sound it was a moment before, Tin-Tin glanced at Alan. "Who had the brilliant idea to have THAT brother fly us out?"
Alan just laughed. Nothing could bother him today. Today was the start of the rest of their lives. But as the plane began its decent into Milan, a cold shiver ran down his spine…
A/N will update as often as I can but a week to ten days will probably be the average. I am still working two jobs, and have some personal concerns. One is my mother's health has not rebounded and we are talking with the palliative care nurse. So reviews I will appreciate, constructive criticism I will respect, and anonymous insults will be deleted after I mock them with a few select friends. Oh, you don't know what friends are? That doesn't surprise me. CC