Episode Three - A Call for Help
Officer Janet Vintmore of the Vermont State Search and Rescue Team winced and caught her breath as she reached up to the cupboard to get a tin of sauce to add to the meal she was cooking. The strapping around her bruised and cracked ribs was supportive and helpful as her body gradually repaired itself but there were still quite tight limits to what she was fit to do at the moment. 'If I ever come across those hoodlums again,' she thought to herself, 'I sure hope I get the opportunity to repay them a little of what I owe them.'
As she added the sauce to the already bubbling ingredients in the pan on the stove she turned off the radio sitting nearby. The jazz programme she had been listening to was just finishing and she had no desire to listen to the news and current affairs programme that was to follow. Just as the radio fell silent she caught the sound of breaking glass and stopped cold. Janet lived out in the hills some miles north of the city of Rutland in a quiet isolated area. The nearest house was a good mile away and she seldom had visitors but despite this she still felt comfortable with the silence that constantly surrounded the house where she lived. It felt right, somehow, to have a sense of isolation from the rest of the world. However at the moment she would have wished to have neighbours a little closer.
Quickly turning off the power under the pan she stepped to the door of the kitchen and listening carefully she caught the muffled sound of a window being opened in the front of the house. Taking a gun from one of the kitchen drawers she turned off the kitchen light, opened the door with one swift movement and went out into the darkened hallway, silently shutting the kitchen door behind her.
International Rescue Agent 65 completed his circuit and once again hunkered down in the bushes opposite the front of the house. Everything was silent and the only noises he heard were those of the breeze brushing through the bushes and the occasional cry of a bird from far overhead. Although an old style sash window downstairs stood fully open on this hot day no sound or sign of occupation came from the house. Checking his gun once more he stood and approached the two wooden steps leading up to the front veranda. No sound came from the house as he reached the front door that was already ajar. Pushing it fully open he cautiously stepped inside. A slightly yellow light fell into the hallway from one of the rooms leading off it. Step by step he made his way through the house alert to any noise or disturbance but the only sound was that of his quiet footsteps on the wooden floor. Reaching the doorway of the lighted room he peered around the doorframe. The room, which had evidently been used as a lounge, was in disarray. The remains of a small coffee table were discarded, shattered against one wall. A table lamp was lying smashed near the base of a chair and a rug that presumably should have been gracing the middle of the floor was all scrunched up to one side of the fireplace. However most concerning of all was a dark pool of congealing liquid on the floor by one wall. Immediately above the pool was a dark brown streak on the wall extending from about shoulder height and trailing down to the floor.
"Dammit"
John Tracy flinched as his father's hand banged down on his desk. Although he was a long way removed from Tracy Island in Thunderbird 5 he could clearly feel his father's anger as he relayed the report from Agent 65.
"Did the report say anything else John?" Jeff asked as he got his emotions back under control and thought where to go from here "Was there any trace outside the house at all?"
"No Father. The ground around the property is apparently quite dry and stony. There were indications that a vehicle of some sort had been nearby and the tracks ran away from the property back towards the highway but they were lost as soon as they reached the road."
"What about at the house itself?"
"Agent 65 checked after finding the bloodstain. It looks like only one person lived there but every room looked as it had been briefly searched - drawers pulled out, cupboards opened, furniture moved and the like but there was no obvious other damage done that he could see. There were items still present in the house that would normally be expected to be taken in a break-in so it seems that wasn't the main motivation." John hesitated.
"What else son?" his father prompted, seeing that John had something else to add.
"After going out to the house Agent 65 spoke to Captain James Johnson, the head of the Search and Rescue squad based in Rutland father."
"And?"
"He confirmed the details Officer Vintmore gave us a few days ago. She turned up in a Burlington Police Precinct badly beaten and barely conscious. She spent the next three days in hospital and after her discharge she was signed off work sick for three weeks to recover."
Jeff's jaw clenched tightly as he heard his son's words. It was a possibility that the search and rescue officer had been lying to them about the abduction but this report bore testimony to the truth of her tale. The thought of an innocent female abducted and beaten because of her supposed connections to International Rescue made him furious. Meanwhile, John continued relaying the findings of the International Rescue agent.
"Captain Johnson says she is a completely trusted member of the squad. However, very little is known about her. She doesn't seem to have any family nor is she known to have any friends or associates outside the squad."
"So she keeps to herself and lives a quiet, unassuming life" interrupted his father, "what's so strange about that?"
"Well Dad, she joined the squad about five years ago. She was recommended to Captain Johnson by his brother, a Doctor Bill Johnson, at the Vintmore Memorial Hospital in New York. She used to be a patient of his."
"Vintmore Memorial?" broke in Scott from where he was listening to the exchange in the lounge of the Tracy home, "that's rather a co-incidence isn't it? Presumably she's not related to the founder of the hospital?"
"That's just it Scott" responded John "Agent 65 says that Captain Johnson wasn't too forthcoming with information. He thinks the Captain knows more than he's telling about Officer Vintmore's background but all he would do was refer 65 to his brother at the hospital if he wanted to know anything else about her. In the meantime Captain Johnson was going to get the authorities moving on looking for her"
"I want that information John," growled Jeff Tracy, "now more than ever. This thing is winding itself into stranger and stranger turns and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Tell Agent 65 to get himself down to the Vintmore Memorial Hospital and check out this Doctor Bill Johnson. I want to know everything they know about Janet Vintmore. That includes her medical records. If he can't get those directly we may need to let Brains have a go at their computer to see what information we can prise out of it by breaking its security codes. Meantime keep monitoring the police channels in the area in case they turn up anything"
"F.A.B father" John Tracy signed off and closed the link to Tracy island.
"So what do we do now father?" The question came from Alan who was also in the lounge of the family home, "do we go looking for her ourselves?"
"No Alan," Jeff turned to his youngest son with a frown. "you know International Rescue is here to save lives that are in danger." He held up his hand as Alan opened his mouth to interrupt "Janet Vintmore may be in danger but we have no idea where she is nor do we have any way of tracing her right now. No, our best course of action is to do nothing and wait to hear from Agent 65 and see what the authorities turn up. International Rescue still needs to be operational in case emergency calls come in. We can't go off looking for a missing person and leave the base unattended. Let's just hope that that poor girl isn't already dead and gets a chance to escape from her captors a second time. "
Janet Vintmore pressed down hard on the wound beneath her hands that was still weeping blood into the heavy bandage that she pressed against it. She wracked her brains to extract the last dregs of first aid and medical knowledge that she had for anything else that may be of any use to her now. Sighing she shook her head. This wound needed proper medical attention and it needed it soon. Without it, so far as she could see, death was likely to delay no more than another day at most. She turned as the door behind her opened to admit a tall man with black hair and a glowering face.
"How is he?"
"Dying" she snapped "he needs a doctor and he needs one now."
"Well that's something he's not going to get thanks to you, bitch. Now your friends at International Rescue have alerted the authorities we can't risk going anywhere in this state without everyone looking for us."
"I keep telling you" she replied, as evenly as she could "I don't know anything about International Rescue. You've got the wrong person."
"Save it for the birds lady. I know who you are no matter how much you deny it and I'll tell you this" the man approached until he was well within her personal space and his face was inches from her own "for now you're safe - I need you to look after Mike. But if he dies from that bullet you pumped into him then I intend to finish that little business he started six years ago before I kill you too." The look that he gave her started at her face, travelled down her body and then travelled back to her face and left her in no doubt as to what 'that little business' might mean, and she shuddered in disgust and loathing.
Turning back to the brown haired stockily built man lying on the pallet before her she started to re-bind the wound, hoping that the bleeding would not soak through this bandage as quickly as it had soaked through the previous ones. She needed time to think of an escape plan but for now time seemed to be one thing she was running out of.
The emergency call roused first John Tracy and then the remainder of the Tracy family from their sleep in the early hours of the morning. The operatives of the worlds most famous rescue operation had spent a restless few hours waiting for news of Janet Vintmore that never came. As Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan tumbled into the lounge, in their night robes, tousle haired and sleepy eyed it was to find their father already behind his desk talking to John on the communications link direct to the space satellite.
"Does he know how badly she's injured John?"
"Not completely Father, she plainly has a broken leg but she's only semi- conscious and he's too far away from her to be able to talk to her."
As Jeff saw his other sons enter the lounge he held up his hand to forestall their questions while he finished his conversation with John.
"And the local authorities can't help?"
"No father. It would take them over four hours on the local roads to get to the danger zone. The nearest air rescue teams are already handling a job to the north and are not going to be able to get there for at least another two hours, maybe longer.
"OK John, let the authorities know that we'll handle it so they can concentrate on their own efforts and I'll get your brothers under way. Once Scott's in the air give him the co-ordinates."
"F.A.B." The live feed from Thunderbird Five was cut and the painted picture of the second eldest Tracy son was restored to its place on the wall.
"Right boys, we've got to make this one quick." Jeff turned to his sons who were by now wide awake and listening. "Scott, take Thunderbird One. You're heading for the Cordillera Mountains in Peru. There's a woman stuck halfway down a cliff with a broken leg at best, other injuries are possible. Set up Mobile Control where you can. Virgil will be behind you with a double crew."
"F.A.B." All tiredness forgotten Scott crossed to the other side of the lounge activated the entrance to Thunderbird One's hanger and disappeared.
"Virgil"
"Yes Father?"
"Take Thunderbird Two with Pod Three. You'll need the winching gear. Alan, Gordon, you'll both be needed for this one. Right, off you go."
"F.A.B."
"Sure thing Dad"
Virgil crossed the lounge then stood with his back to the painting that held the entry path to the hanger of Thunderbird Two. As the painting swung on the hidden pivot points, raising his feet above his head and sending him hurtling down the entry chute towards the hanger far below, Alan and Gordon made their way to the passenger elevator that would take them down to join him on the large rescue craft.
In less than two minutes a soft bleeping noise drew Jeff's attention to the picture of Scott.
"Go ahead Scott"
"Thunderbird One ready for lift off"
Jeff checked the proximity device to ensure there was no air traffic too close to the island.
"Thunderbird One, you are clear for lift off."
"F.A.B."
From below the ground came a sudden deep growling rumble that built in volume until the vibrations could be felt through the floor and the walls. Jeff stood and walked to the lounge windows and looked out into the darkness. He was just in time to see a dark shape rising from the blackness where the swimming pool was usually located. Quickly the glowing tail of the rescue 'plane sped past and diminished to a glowing spot in the sky. Returning to his desk Jeff cleared Thunderbird Two for take off and then acknowledged Scott's standard report that Thunderbird One had achieved cruising altitude and was changing to horizontal flight.
Jeff Tracy sat behind his desk and tried to force himself to relax. Now the waiting would begin. This rescue did not seem especially difficult on the face of it but the unexpected could happen at any time and once a call for help had been received Jeff was never at ease until all of the Thunderbird machines had returned home and he could see that his sons were safe.
"Your sons have all gone Mr Tracy?"
Jeff looked up into the face of Kyrano with a smile.
"Yes Kyrano, they're all on their way to South America. Scott should be there within thirty minutes and Virgil, Gordon and Alan will be close behind him. With any luck they should all be back in time for breakfast."
"Then you have enough time for a cup of coffee Mr Tracy?"
Jeff laughed. It had become a small ritual in the Tracy household that once a rescue was underway Jeff's faithful retainer would appear by his side with a coffee and would ensure that he was kept well supplied with the hot drink until the rescue was over. This rescue was no exception.
"Thank you Kyrano - that would be great."
With a half bow the elderly man retired to the kitchen and left Jeff Tracy alone to wait.
The weak breaths rattled in the throat of the dying man as he opened his eyes and looked across the room to where his compatriot stood watching. His voice was a mere croak.
"Dave....help me...please."
"Do something to help him!" hissed the dark haired man, "don't just sit there."
Sensing a chance at last Officer Vintmore raised her head to look at her kidnapper.
"There's one thing more I can try but I need your help"
"What do you want? I'm no doctor, just to see all that blood makes me sick. How can I help?"
"I need you to come over here and hold something for me. You don't even have to look if you don't want to, I'll put it into your hand so you can hold it and then you can close your eyes while I do the rest." She held her breath. 'Surely he won't fall for this one' she thought, 'no-one could be that stupid.' Hesitantly Dave slid the gun that he had been pointing at the search and rescue officer into the belt of his trousers, rose to his feet and approached the pallet.
"Right Senora, that's your neck and leg immobilized. Now, we just need to get you onto this stretcher so we can lift you up to the top of the cliff and back to your husband." Gordon smiled reassuringly down into the large frightened brown eyes of the woman. She had been lying on this narrow cliff ledge for the better part of an hour already. Her leg was broken in at least two places, she had a head wound and a possible concussion to go with it and was complaining of neck and back pains. To top it all she was cold and starting to go into shock despite the survival blanket that was carefully wrapped around her.
"Cliff Rescue to Mobile Control" he activated his wrist communicator to update his brothers on his progress, omitting his name for security reasons.
"This is Mobile Control, go ahead Cliff Rescue. How are things going down there?" Scott answered quickly. He had been waiting for Gordon's call and was relieved to see his brother's face looking back at him from the console.
"Fine. I've done what I can to make Senora Rodriguez set for the transfer. I'm just going to get her onto the stretcher and then we'll be ready to go. It should only be a couple of minutes. Have we got the steer to the nearest hospital ready? We'll need to get her there pretty quickly - she's starting to go into shock."
"Yeah, we've got the course laid in and ready to go." Virgil's voice cut in on the three-way system. He had been listening to the exchange between Gordon and Scott and had just received the details of the hospital from John in the satellite. "Just give the word and Thunderbird Two can winch you up and we'll be on our way."
"F.A.B." acknowledged Gordon, "standby"
Extracting a small bag about the size of his hand from the pack he had brought with him he began to explain to his patient.
"Now I'm going to bring this piece of material up underneath you bit by bit. You'll need to raise yourself up a little so I can slide it underneath you. Can you do that?"
Puzzled non-comprehending eyes looked back at him.
"Darn it" Gordon grimaced in frustration, "I was afraid this might happen. Oh well, good job we've got our own translator on tap." Bringing his watch up to his face he activated the COM link again. "Cliff Rescue to Thunderbird Five, come in please"
"Thunderbird Five here" John's reply was immediate, his voice concerned. "What's up squirt?"
"I need Mrs Rodriguez's help in getting her onto the stretcher - I can't lift her as there's not even enough room for me to stand on the ledge next to her. I've tried to explain but she doesn't know any English. Can you translate for me so she knows what to do?"
"Sure thing kid. Start talking and I'll do the Spanish side."
Breathing a sigh of relief Gordon turned to the Senora and holding his watch close to her face so she could hear John's translation he began to speak slowly.
Dave was bent over the supine body of Mike, holding tightly onto the improvised 'tourniquet' that Janet Vintmore had wound around Mike's upper arm. She had been amazed that Dave had fallen for the obvious ruse - how could anyone ever imagine that applying a tourniquet to an arm would help stem the flow of blood from a shoulder wound? Dave had not closed his eyes but his face was turned down towards the dying man. Acting with as much speed as she could Janet Vintmore picked up the small stool she had been sitting on and brought it down as hard as she could onto the back of his neck. With a small grunt Dave collapsed down onto the body of his friend. After bringing down the stool onto Dave's head a second time for good measure Janet dashed to the door of the room of the room, dragged it open and once outside pulled it shut behind her. She found a key in the lock, left there from the last time Dave had used it, turned it in the lock and pocketed it. Then she fled up the corridor.
Activating the inflation valve on the portable stretcher Gordon watched briefly as the thin piece of material under Mrs Rodriguez' body began to inflate and thicken rapidly. Happy that it was working correctly he attached the cables from the winch to the ring support that was lying on the chest of his patient. As he clipped the last cable into place the inflation clicked to a stop and he checked the securing belt straps that lay across her ankles, hips, waist, chest and head for the last time and then checked the securing locks that held him in contact with the stretcher so that he could help to stabilise it as it was lifted upwards into the waiting rescue craft. All was ready.
"Cliff Rescue to Thunderbird Two Winch Control."
"Go ahead Cliff Rescue" the voice of his youngest brother drifted back to him from his wrist communicator.
"Stretcher inflation completed and restraints in place. All ready to go."
"F.A.B. Cliff Rescue. Starting retrieval process now."
Gradually the excess coil was taken up and the winch cable became taut. Gordon felt the change in stability as the stretcher left the cliff ledge and became airborne. He gradually began to drift around as both he and the stretcher were lifted upwards to the under belly of Thunderbird Two where it hung above them. Placing one hand on the arm of the woman next to him, and the other on her head to check for any increase in her temperature he smiled down at her reassuringly, hoping with his face to convey the words that he could not speak.
Looking into the third room that she had checked Officer Vintmore finally found what she had been looking for - a communication station. Similar in design to radio transmitters she had seen as various older mines and ranger stations that she had had occasion to visit during her career with the Vermont Search and Rescue Squad she set to work to get help. Flicking switches and setting dials she picked up the microphone standing on the top of the console.
"Calling International Rescue, calling International Rescue, come in please, this is an emergency."
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Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds characters are owned by someone other than me although Jane Tracey is, I believe, my invention.
I intend only to borrow them and will return them in one piece.
Officer Janet Vintmore of the Vermont State Search and Rescue Team winced and caught her breath as she reached up to the cupboard to get a tin of sauce to add to the meal she was cooking. The strapping around her bruised and cracked ribs was supportive and helpful as her body gradually repaired itself but there were still quite tight limits to what she was fit to do at the moment. 'If I ever come across those hoodlums again,' she thought to herself, 'I sure hope I get the opportunity to repay them a little of what I owe them.'
As she added the sauce to the already bubbling ingredients in the pan on the stove she turned off the radio sitting nearby. The jazz programme she had been listening to was just finishing and she had no desire to listen to the news and current affairs programme that was to follow. Just as the radio fell silent she caught the sound of breaking glass and stopped cold. Janet lived out in the hills some miles north of the city of Rutland in a quiet isolated area. The nearest house was a good mile away and she seldom had visitors but despite this she still felt comfortable with the silence that constantly surrounded the house where she lived. It felt right, somehow, to have a sense of isolation from the rest of the world. However at the moment she would have wished to have neighbours a little closer.
Quickly turning off the power under the pan she stepped to the door of the kitchen and listening carefully she caught the muffled sound of a window being opened in the front of the house. Taking a gun from one of the kitchen drawers she turned off the kitchen light, opened the door with one swift movement and went out into the darkened hallway, silently shutting the kitchen door behind her.
International Rescue Agent 65 completed his circuit and once again hunkered down in the bushes opposite the front of the house. Everything was silent and the only noises he heard were those of the breeze brushing through the bushes and the occasional cry of a bird from far overhead. Although an old style sash window downstairs stood fully open on this hot day no sound or sign of occupation came from the house. Checking his gun once more he stood and approached the two wooden steps leading up to the front veranda. No sound came from the house as he reached the front door that was already ajar. Pushing it fully open he cautiously stepped inside. A slightly yellow light fell into the hallway from one of the rooms leading off it. Step by step he made his way through the house alert to any noise or disturbance but the only sound was that of his quiet footsteps on the wooden floor. Reaching the doorway of the lighted room he peered around the doorframe. The room, which had evidently been used as a lounge, was in disarray. The remains of a small coffee table were discarded, shattered against one wall. A table lamp was lying smashed near the base of a chair and a rug that presumably should have been gracing the middle of the floor was all scrunched up to one side of the fireplace. However most concerning of all was a dark pool of congealing liquid on the floor by one wall. Immediately above the pool was a dark brown streak on the wall extending from about shoulder height and trailing down to the floor.
"Dammit"
John Tracy flinched as his father's hand banged down on his desk. Although he was a long way removed from Tracy Island in Thunderbird 5 he could clearly feel his father's anger as he relayed the report from Agent 65.
"Did the report say anything else John?" Jeff asked as he got his emotions back under control and thought where to go from here "Was there any trace outside the house at all?"
"No Father. The ground around the property is apparently quite dry and stony. There were indications that a vehicle of some sort had been nearby and the tracks ran away from the property back towards the highway but they were lost as soon as they reached the road."
"What about at the house itself?"
"Agent 65 checked after finding the bloodstain. It looks like only one person lived there but every room looked as it had been briefly searched - drawers pulled out, cupboards opened, furniture moved and the like but there was no obvious other damage done that he could see. There were items still present in the house that would normally be expected to be taken in a break-in so it seems that wasn't the main motivation." John hesitated.
"What else son?" his father prompted, seeing that John had something else to add.
"After going out to the house Agent 65 spoke to Captain James Johnson, the head of the Search and Rescue squad based in Rutland father."
"And?"
"He confirmed the details Officer Vintmore gave us a few days ago. She turned up in a Burlington Police Precinct badly beaten and barely conscious. She spent the next three days in hospital and after her discharge she was signed off work sick for three weeks to recover."
Jeff's jaw clenched tightly as he heard his son's words. It was a possibility that the search and rescue officer had been lying to them about the abduction but this report bore testimony to the truth of her tale. The thought of an innocent female abducted and beaten because of her supposed connections to International Rescue made him furious. Meanwhile, John continued relaying the findings of the International Rescue agent.
"Captain Johnson says she is a completely trusted member of the squad. However, very little is known about her. She doesn't seem to have any family nor is she known to have any friends or associates outside the squad."
"So she keeps to herself and lives a quiet, unassuming life" interrupted his father, "what's so strange about that?"
"Well Dad, she joined the squad about five years ago. She was recommended to Captain Johnson by his brother, a Doctor Bill Johnson, at the Vintmore Memorial Hospital in New York. She used to be a patient of his."
"Vintmore Memorial?" broke in Scott from where he was listening to the exchange in the lounge of the Tracy home, "that's rather a co-incidence isn't it? Presumably she's not related to the founder of the hospital?"
"That's just it Scott" responded John "Agent 65 says that Captain Johnson wasn't too forthcoming with information. He thinks the Captain knows more than he's telling about Officer Vintmore's background but all he would do was refer 65 to his brother at the hospital if he wanted to know anything else about her. In the meantime Captain Johnson was going to get the authorities moving on looking for her"
"I want that information John," growled Jeff Tracy, "now more than ever. This thing is winding itself into stranger and stranger turns and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Tell Agent 65 to get himself down to the Vintmore Memorial Hospital and check out this Doctor Bill Johnson. I want to know everything they know about Janet Vintmore. That includes her medical records. If he can't get those directly we may need to let Brains have a go at their computer to see what information we can prise out of it by breaking its security codes. Meantime keep monitoring the police channels in the area in case they turn up anything"
"F.A.B father" John Tracy signed off and closed the link to Tracy island.
"So what do we do now father?" The question came from Alan who was also in the lounge of the family home, "do we go looking for her ourselves?"
"No Alan," Jeff turned to his youngest son with a frown. "you know International Rescue is here to save lives that are in danger." He held up his hand as Alan opened his mouth to interrupt "Janet Vintmore may be in danger but we have no idea where she is nor do we have any way of tracing her right now. No, our best course of action is to do nothing and wait to hear from Agent 65 and see what the authorities turn up. International Rescue still needs to be operational in case emergency calls come in. We can't go off looking for a missing person and leave the base unattended. Let's just hope that that poor girl isn't already dead and gets a chance to escape from her captors a second time. "
Janet Vintmore pressed down hard on the wound beneath her hands that was still weeping blood into the heavy bandage that she pressed against it. She wracked her brains to extract the last dregs of first aid and medical knowledge that she had for anything else that may be of any use to her now. Sighing she shook her head. This wound needed proper medical attention and it needed it soon. Without it, so far as she could see, death was likely to delay no more than another day at most. She turned as the door behind her opened to admit a tall man with black hair and a glowering face.
"How is he?"
"Dying" she snapped "he needs a doctor and he needs one now."
"Well that's something he's not going to get thanks to you, bitch. Now your friends at International Rescue have alerted the authorities we can't risk going anywhere in this state without everyone looking for us."
"I keep telling you" she replied, as evenly as she could "I don't know anything about International Rescue. You've got the wrong person."
"Save it for the birds lady. I know who you are no matter how much you deny it and I'll tell you this" the man approached until he was well within her personal space and his face was inches from her own "for now you're safe - I need you to look after Mike. But if he dies from that bullet you pumped into him then I intend to finish that little business he started six years ago before I kill you too." The look that he gave her started at her face, travelled down her body and then travelled back to her face and left her in no doubt as to what 'that little business' might mean, and she shuddered in disgust and loathing.
Turning back to the brown haired stockily built man lying on the pallet before her she started to re-bind the wound, hoping that the bleeding would not soak through this bandage as quickly as it had soaked through the previous ones. She needed time to think of an escape plan but for now time seemed to be one thing she was running out of.
The emergency call roused first John Tracy and then the remainder of the Tracy family from their sleep in the early hours of the morning. The operatives of the worlds most famous rescue operation had spent a restless few hours waiting for news of Janet Vintmore that never came. As Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan tumbled into the lounge, in their night robes, tousle haired and sleepy eyed it was to find their father already behind his desk talking to John on the communications link direct to the space satellite.
"Does he know how badly she's injured John?"
"Not completely Father, she plainly has a broken leg but she's only semi- conscious and he's too far away from her to be able to talk to her."
As Jeff saw his other sons enter the lounge he held up his hand to forestall their questions while he finished his conversation with John.
"And the local authorities can't help?"
"No father. It would take them over four hours on the local roads to get to the danger zone. The nearest air rescue teams are already handling a job to the north and are not going to be able to get there for at least another two hours, maybe longer.
"OK John, let the authorities know that we'll handle it so they can concentrate on their own efforts and I'll get your brothers under way. Once Scott's in the air give him the co-ordinates."
"F.A.B." The live feed from Thunderbird Five was cut and the painted picture of the second eldest Tracy son was restored to its place on the wall.
"Right boys, we've got to make this one quick." Jeff turned to his sons who were by now wide awake and listening. "Scott, take Thunderbird One. You're heading for the Cordillera Mountains in Peru. There's a woman stuck halfway down a cliff with a broken leg at best, other injuries are possible. Set up Mobile Control where you can. Virgil will be behind you with a double crew."
"F.A.B." All tiredness forgotten Scott crossed to the other side of the lounge activated the entrance to Thunderbird One's hanger and disappeared.
"Virgil"
"Yes Father?"
"Take Thunderbird Two with Pod Three. You'll need the winching gear. Alan, Gordon, you'll both be needed for this one. Right, off you go."
"F.A.B."
"Sure thing Dad"
Virgil crossed the lounge then stood with his back to the painting that held the entry path to the hanger of Thunderbird Two. As the painting swung on the hidden pivot points, raising his feet above his head and sending him hurtling down the entry chute towards the hanger far below, Alan and Gordon made their way to the passenger elevator that would take them down to join him on the large rescue craft.
In less than two minutes a soft bleeping noise drew Jeff's attention to the picture of Scott.
"Go ahead Scott"
"Thunderbird One ready for lift off"
Jeff checked the proximity device to ensure there was no air traffic too close to the island.
"Thunderbird One, you are clear for lift off."
"F.A.B."
From below the ground came a sudden deep growling rumble that built in volume until the vibrations could be felt through the floor and the walls. Jeff stood and walked to the lounge windows and looked out into the darkness. He was just in time to see a dark shape rising from the blackness where the swimming pool was usually located. Quickly the glowing tail of the rescue 'plane sped past and diminished to a glowing spot in the sky. Returning to his desk Jeff cleared Thunderbird Two for take off and then acknowledged Scott's standard report that Thunderbird One had achieved cruising altitude and was changing to horizontal flight.
Jeff Tracy sat behind his desk and tried to force himself to relax. Now the waiting would begin. This rescue did not seem especially difficult on the face of it but the unexpected could happen at any time and once a call for help had been received Jeff was never at ease until all of the Thunderbird machines had returned home and he could see that his sons were safe.
"Your sons have all gone Mr Tracy?"
Jeff looked up into the face of Kyrano with a smile.
"Yes Kyrano, they're all on their way to South America. Scott should be there within thirty minutes and Virgil, Gordon and Alan will be close behind him. With any luck they should all be back in time for breakfast."
"Then you have enough time for a cup of coffee Mr Tracy?"
Jeff laughed. It had become a small ritual in the Tracy household that once a rescue was underway Jeff's faithful retainer would appear by his side with a coffee and would ensure that he was kept well supplied with the hot drink until the rescue was over. This rescue was no exception.
"Thank you Kyrano - that would be great."
With a half bow the elderly man retired to the kitchen and left Jeff Tracy alone to wait.
The weak breaths rattled in the throat of the dying man as he opened his eyes and looked across the room to where his compatriot stood watching. His voice was a mere croak.
"Dave....help me...please."
"Do something to help him!" hissed the dark haired man, "don't just sit there."
Sensing a chance at last Officer Vintmore raised her head to look at her kidnapper.
"There's one thing more I can try but I need your help"
"What do you want? I'm no doctor, just to see all that blood makes me sick. How can I help?"
"I need you to come over here and hold something for me. You don't even have to look if you don't want to, I'll put it into your hand so you can hold it and then you can close your eyes while I do the rest." She held her breath. 'Surely he won't fall for this one' she thought, 'no-one could be that stupid.' Hesitantly Dave slid the gun that he had been pointing at the search and rescue officer into the belt of his trousers, rose to his feet and approached the pallet.
"Right Senora, that's your neck and leg immobilized. Now, we just need to get you onto this stretcher so we can lift you up to the top of the cliff and back to your husband." Gordon smiled reassuringly down into the large frightened brown eyes of the woman. She had been lying on this narrow cliff ledge for the better part of an hour already. Her leg was broken in at least two places, she had a head wound and a possible concussion to go with it and was complaining of neck and back pains. To top it all she was cold and starting to go into shock despite the survival blanket that was carefully wrapped around her.
"Cliff Rescue to Mobile Control" he activated his wrist communicator to update his brothers on his progress, omitting his name for security reasons.
"This is Mobile Control, go ahead Cliff Rescue. How are things going down there?" Scott answered quickly. He had been waiting for Gordon's call and was relieved to see his brother's face looking back at him from the console.
"Fine. I've done what I can to make Senora Rodriguez set for the transfer. I'm just going to get her onto the stretcher and then we'll be ready to go. It should only be a couple of minutes. Have we got the steer to the nearest hospital ready? We'll need to get her there pretty quickly - she's starting to go into shock."
"Yeah, we've got the course laid in and ready to go." Virgil's voice cut in on the three-way system. He had been listening to the exchange between Gordon and Scott and had just received the details of the hospital from John in the satellite. "Just give the word and Thunderbird Two can winch you up and we'll be on our way."
"F.A.B." acknowledged Gordon, "standby"
Extracting a small bag about the size of his hand from the pack he had brought with him he began to explain to his patient.
"Now I'm going to bring this piece of material up underneath you bit by bit. You'll need to raise yourself up a little so I can slide it underneath you. Can you do that?"
Puzzled non-comprehending eyes looked back at him.
"Darn it" Gordon grimaced in frustration, "I was afraid this might happen. Oh well, good job we've got our own translator on tap." Bringing his watch up to his face he activated the COM link again. "Cliff Rescue to Thunderbird Five, come in please"
"Thunderbird Five here" John's reply was immediate, his voice concerned. "What's up squirt?"
"I need Mrs Rodriguez's help in getting her onto the stretcher - I can't lift her as there's not even enough room for me to stand on the ledge next to her. I've tried to explain but she doesn't know any English. Can you translate for me so she knows what to do?"
"Sure thing kid. Start talking and I'll do the Spanish side."
Breathing a sigh of relief Gordon turned to the Senora and holding his watch close to her face so she could hear John's translation he began to speak slowly.
Dave was bent over the supine body of Mike, holding tightly onto the improvised 'tourniquet' that Janet Vintmore had wound around Mike's upper arm. She had been amazed that Dave had fallen for the obvious ruse - how could anyone ever imagine that applying a tourniquet to an arm would help stem the flow of blood from a shoulder wound? Dave had not closed his eyes but his face was turned down towards the dying man. Acting with as much speed as she could Janet Vintmore picked up the small stool she had been sitting on and brought it down as hard as she could onto the back of his neck. With a small grunt Dave collapsed down onto the body of his friend. After bringing down the stool onto Dave's head a second time for good measure Janet dashed to the door of the room of the room, dragged it open and once outside pulled it shut behind her. She found a key in the lock, left there from the last time Dave had used it, turned it in the lock and pocketed it. Then she fled up the corridor.
Activating the inflation valve on the portable stretcher Gordon watched briefly as the thin piece of material under Mrs Rodriguez' body began to inflate and thicken rapidly. Happy that it was working correctly he attached the cables from the winch to the ring support that was lying on the chest of his patient. As he clipped the last cable into place the inflation clicked to a stop and he checked the securing belt straps that lay across her ankles, hips, waist, chest and head for the last time and then checked the securing locks that held him in contact with the stretcher so that he could help to stabilise it as it was lifted upwards into the waiting rescue craft. All was ready.
"Cliff Rescue to Thunderbird Two Winch Control."
"Go ahead Cliff Rescue" the voice of his youngest brother drifted back to him from his wrist communicator.
"Stretcher inflation completed and restraints in place. All ready to go."
"F.A.B. Cliff Rescue. Starting retrieval process now."
Gradually the excess coil was taken up and the winch cable became taut. Gordon felt the change in stability as the stretcher left the cliff ledge and became airborne. He gradually began to drift around as both he and the stretcher were lifted upwards to the under belly of Thunderbird Two where it hung above them. Placing one hand on the arm of the woman next to him, and the other on her head to check for any increase in her temperature he smiled down at her reassuringly, hoping with his face to convey the words that he could not speak.
Looking into the third room that she had checked Officer Vintmore finally found what she had been looking for - a communication station. Similar in design to radio transmitters she had seen as various older mines and ranger stations that she had had occasion to visit during her career with the Vermont Search and Rescue Squad she set to work to get help. Flicking switches and setting dials she picked up the microphone standing on the top of the console.
"Calling International Rescue, calling International Rescue, come in please, this is an emergency."
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Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds characters are owned by someone other than me although Jane Tracey is, I believe, my invention.
I intend only to borrow them and will return them in one piece.