In Too Deep

by Kimmy.Tosh

The road to hell is paved with good intentions...

4. Chapter 4

In Too Deep – Chapter Four

Jeff Tracy felt the air rush from his lungs and struggled to replace it fast enough. His heartbeat echoed in his ears before slowing down to a near stop and he felt the edges of his vision begin to grey. He was just about to accept the fact that he was in very real danger of passing out when suddenly air surged into his lungs and his heart began pounding, echoed in his ears. Reaching out, he felt the desk behind him and leant against it.

The whole time his vision didn't move from his eldest son.

"Dad?" Scott asked, oozing anxiousness. Having seen his father pale and then reach out to lean against his desk, he was worried the shock might've been too much. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Jeff whispered. He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, forcing himself to be a commander and not a father. "Yes, I'm fine, Scott. How was Virgilwhen you spoke to him?"

"He seemed okay. He was calm and he's not physically hurt that I could see," Scott told his father. "Well, nothing worse than a split lip." He met Jeff's gaze, a deep frown dominated his features and he appeared apprehensive, despite the fact that Jeff knew he would be doing his utmost to hide it. "What are we going to do, Father?"

"Well I'll tell you what we're not going to do," Jeff replied sternly, "and that's panic." Scott gave an almost imperceptible nod and waited for his father to continue. "Does John know?" Jeff asked.

"No," Scott shook his head, "I called you right away. He's still trawling through information about these guys."

"Okay," Jeff sighed. "The way I see it, we only have one option: we have to go along with whatever they say."

"Father?" Scott frowned. He had expected his father to reiterate International Rescue's policy not to negotiate with hostage takers. "You realize we'll be setting a precedent?"

"Of course I realize that, Scott," Jeff came very close to snapping at his eldest son but took a deep breath and regained control. "But if they're as serious as you seem to think they are then Virgil's life is in their hands and we don't want to be doing anything to upset them." He noted the expression on Scott's face before he went on. "Don't worry, Son, they won't get away with it, I'll make damned sure of it."

The plan that was already forming in his mind released some of the tension he felt. Just doing something helped a little bit. Deep down though, Jeff Tracy was experiencing something he hadn't felt in a long, long time: fear, a very real, very valid, fear.

"Listen to me carefully, Scott," he lapsed into command mode with ease and tried to push his own thoughts and feelings aside. Virgil needed him to command their way out of this mess and he was adamant he wouldn't let his son down. "This is what's going to happen," Jeff told his eldest son, "I need you to get back to John and tell him what's going on. Then I want you to call Penelope and have her head over to you. You may need her help to track the plane when they leave. Speaking of which, I'll get Alan and Gordon working on finding one and arranging for it to be flown to you. Now, you said you spoke to Ned Cook earlier, answer me honestly, Scott, do you trust him?"

Scott hesitated, "He helped us out, Father, he went out on a limb to let me know everything he does about this place. Yeah," he decided. "Yeah, I trust him. The guy owes us his life and he said he'd do anything to help us." Scott took in his father's deep frown, "You want him to write the story?"

Jeff nodded, "Yes, I do. And I want you to make sure Dr. Hunt cooperates with him. They might have to work through the night on this one, but I want it ready and in a format that can easily be passed off as a newspaper front page. Brains can do that."

"What if Hunt won't help us, Father?" Scott queried.

"You have permission to be as persuasive as you feel you need to be, Son," Jeff nodded. "Our top priority is to get Virgil and those men out of all this alive; we'll deal with the consequences later." He smiled in satisfaction as the orders flew of his tongue smoothly.

Scott gave a brief nod, pleased his father was taking control. It helped to focus him in a way. He needed the reassurance of his father as much as the command of his superior. He was about to go about his tasks when a thought struck him, "Father, you said you wanted Penny here to track the plane? Does that mean we're going to install a tracker? They specifically said we weren't to do that."

"The tracker facilities on FAB1 will go undetected, Scott," Jeff assured him. "Even with the most advanced technology, they wouldn't pick up on it." He met Scott's gaze and held it, "When they make their escape, I want to know where the hell they're going."

The determination in Jeff's voice told Scott that wherever these three men went, he would be following them and ready to distribute his own brand of punishment. Scott had inherited his father's ethos when it came to threats; he didn't respond well and was equally determined that the perpetrators be brought to justice. Threats to the organisation or himself were one thing though, threats to his brothers were an entirely different matter.

"FAB, Dad," Scott responded with a nod.

Jeff sat back in his seat as the live image of his eldest son faded out. His eyes wandered to the portrait alongside Scott's and he let out a heavy, heartfelt sigh as his head dropped to his hand. It was going to be a long day.

XxxxX

Scott allowed himself a few minutes to recover after his conversation with his father, before putting a call in to John. Watching his own hands work the controls in front of him, he realised that he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing. Instead, he felt numb, unable to process what was happening. As his father had done a few minutes ago, he pushed his own feelings into the smallest compartment his soul could find, leaving them there to be dealt with another day.

Taking a deep breath, he flicked open a communications channel, "Thunderbird Five from Mobile Control."

"Scott, I was just about to…" John trailed off when he saw the expression on his older brother's face, not dissimilar to the reaction Scott had given when Virgil had called through. "What's wrong?"

Scott swallowed, "It's Virgil," he sighed. "Now, he's okay but those guys are holding him hostage until we meet their demands." He met John's wide eyed expression for all of two seconds, "Listen, John, Virgil's depending on us to get him out of there. We have to focus," he nodded at his own logic, trying to convince himself as much as John.

"Okay," John nodded and let out a heavy sigh, not really taking the time to comprehend what his brother was telling him. "What do you need me to do?"

Scott ran a hand over his face, "Can you get in touch with Ned Cook somehow? Get him to meet me in the clearing where we met before and tell him he has to come alone."

"Why?" John frowned. "Do you think he can help us somehow?"

"They want someone to write some kind of article, explaining to the world what this place does," Scott informed his blond brother. "They also want a jet, but Dad's got Gordon and Alan working on that. I'm going to meet with Cook. I'll try to get him to write the story and then we're going to have to ask him not to publish it until…" Scott trailed off when he realised John wasn't listening. "John?" he asked. "John?" he repeated a little louder, when he received no reply. John's head snapped up to look at him. "Come on, we've got to focus," Scott reminded him.

"Yeah," John nodded in reply, "yeah I know." He swiped a hand over his face, "I'll contact Cook and see what I can find out and let you know. In the meantime Scott," he added hesitantly, "there's something I think you should know. But you're not going to like it."

"Go on," Scott encouraged, a frown pulling his brow together, "What is it? Have you found something?"

"Kind of," John swallowed. "After Penny's information, I narrowed down the search to Home Office Criminal Records and the Police National Computer. Scott, these three guys are dangerous, it's all in these files." Scott waited whilst John's attention was diverted to another screen. "Listen to this. Jake Field, kidnapping, GBH, assault, murder. Luke Mathews, murder. William McConnell, armed robbery, three counts of possession of a firearm, assault occasioning ABH, theft…" he trailed off with a shake of the head. "The list goes on but all these guys follow a pattern; they have no family and no official next of kin. They were all classified as dangerous, so they were on a dispersal scheme. The idea was that they were separated and moved around, so as people didn't know where they were being held. Seems they were transferred around. A lot. They got lost in the system and then disappeared off the records."

Scott nodded gravely, half expecting an explanation of that calibre. "Okay thanks, John."

"Scott," John frowned, "This information was buried deep. All these files are marked with high security clearance. Five's search didn't pick it up, but I've managed to hack into databases manually. Whoever is behind this, they're doing a good job of covering their tracks. We weren't meant to find out."

"Alright, I'm going call Penelope and then I think I need to have a little talk with Dr. Hunt…" Scott told his brother, an eyebrow raised. "Call me if you hear anything more, and send a copy of those records through to Penelope, will you? I'll keep you informed from this end." He waited for a nod from John before closing the communications link down.

The thought that Virgil was stuck down there at knife point with three men who, it was evident, had no scruples about killing or at least hurting him, almost threatened to overwhelm Scott. But the camouflage was firmly in place and it was a well practised masquerade. He took a deep breath, the lines of the frown which seemed to have a constant place lining his face hardened and his eyes became determined in their task. He opened another radio channel, "Mobile Control to Lady Penelope."

He was unsurprised that the call was answered so quickly. Lady Penelope, if nothing else, could always be relied upon in a crisis.

"Lady Penelope speaking, go ahead, Scott," her blonde hair framed a winning smile through the communications window, but Scott was in no mood for smiling.

"Penelope, we've got a problem," he began. "Virgil's…" he couldn't believe he was about to say these words, "Virgil's been taken hostage. I need you to make your way over here. Dad wants you and Parker to fit a tracker to the plane they've requested and we want you to follow it."

"Oh, Scott," Penelope sighed and her smile became sympathetic, "I am sorry to hear that." Unsure what else to do, Scott nodded at her, indicating that they didn't have time to exchange pleasantries. The nod given, she felt it was safe to cut straight to the chase, "You know Parker and I will do whatever we can to assist you. But how does your father suppose we can possibly track an aeroplane from the ground?"

"Well, the jet they've requested is a K40. It doesn't have a very big fuel capacity," Scott told her. "In fact, they'll only get a couple of hundred miles out of her before they need to service and refuel it. These jets were designed for reconnaissance by the Navy so they're light weight and compact," Penelope listened, taking in all of Scott's expertise in the area. "The idea was that they could be stowed on aircraft carriers. We're hoping you'll be able to track it."

"I see, Scott," Penelope nodded. "We shall proceed to Wales immediately. I will apprise you of an estimated time of arrival as we approach. Lady Penelope, out."

Her signal disappeared and Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. He hoped this plan worked. Wherever these guys went he agreed wholeheartedly that they shouldn't get away with what they'd done. His main concern though, was his brother and getting him back in one piece. Scott gave himself a few minutes to build himself up for his discussion with Dr Hunt, but the more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. After a few moments, he pushed himself away from the Mobile Control console, intent to walk across to the scientist and confront him. He was surprised though, when he turned round and Dr Hunt was already there.

His surprise showed as Dr Hunt motioned to the console and began to explain his presence, "I saw the commotion. I was worried. It's been a long time, is everything okay?"

"No," Scott shook his head, stopping himself from jumping forward and yelling at the scientist that maybe if they'd told the truth none of this would've happened. He didn't have time for maybes though. "No, Dr. Hunt, everything is not alright. Your colleagues," Scott stressed the word, "are holding my colleague hostage until we meet their demands."

Dr Hunt paled, his eyes widening as he raised his shaking hand up to his mouth, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I never… I'm sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. He paused and raised one of his white eyebrows. "What are their demands?"

"That you go to the newspapers and tell them everything about this place." Dr Hunt was already shaking his head and Scott could see he had a fight on his hands. "I'm arranging for a journalist to be brought in right now, so you can tell the world what you've been up to down there."

"No," Dr Hunt shook his head, "No, I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't," he replied adamantly.

"You can," Scott told him, his tone assuring that there was no room for discussion. "And you will."

"No, no you don't understand." Dr Hunt thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a miniature communications device. "I must call Mr Foster back, he'll know what to do. This is terrible. It's err, a matter of National Security."

Scott snatched the device from his hands. "You're not calling anyone Doctor, you're going to meet with this journalist and tell him everything. If my friend doesn't come out of this, you'll regret it. Do we understand each other?"

"Are … Are y-you threatening me?" Dr Hunt frowned at Scott, adjusting his glasses and screwing up his nose.

"Look, Dr. Hunt," Scott sighed. "You've got two options here: you either tell the journalist your story and we'll do our best to stop him from printing it, or you don't tell him anything and I'll tell it for you." He leant forward, "And I'll make damned sure they print every word."

Dr Hunt eyed Scott for a few minutes, screwing his nose up again and fumbling with his glasses before, nodding. "Okay," he sighed. "Okay, I'll do it."

"We want the truth," Scott told him. He reached out a firm hand to the scientist's shoulder and guided him to a seat by the Mobile Control unit. Scott pushed him into it, perhaps a little harshly. "So how about we have a practice run through ….now," his tone of voice made sure that the scientist understood it wasn't a suggestion. Scott didn't have time to mess around when his brother's life was at stake.

XxxxX

Gordon and Alan worked feverishly and in complete silence, bar the tapping of keyboards and the constant murmuring of the computers. On occasion, Alan looked across at his brother ready to break the silence but, when Gordon didn't notice, he'd turn back and continue his search.

Finally, he took a deep breath and swivelled round in his chair to face his brother. Gordon continued tapping at the computer in front of him, not noticing the sudden movement.

"Gordy," Alan tried to get his brother's attention, but he was too busy frowning at the information on the screen. "Gordon," he tried again.

"What?" Gordon looked up at him, a sudden hope in his eye, "Have you found something?"

Alan hated to deflate Gordon's anticipation but swallowed and shook his head, "No." He sighed, "The computer's still searching though." He bit his lip in hesitation. "Gordy, do you think we're going to pull this off?"

Gordon turned to face his younger brother, placing the pencil in his hands on to the keyboard, "We won't if we don't focus and find one of these planes."

Alan nodded, taking the hint that Gordon didn't want to talk about it. Neither of them could really 'focus' with the current pressure they felt, Virgil was depending on them. Alan turned back to the computer, watching it search through areas for a K40 jet. After another few minutes of tense quiet, he couldn't take it any longer. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned again and opened his mouth to speak.

"No," Gordon beat him to it. "I haven't found anything since the last time you asked, all of," he paused to glance at his watch, "three minutes ago."

Alan shrugged an apology, "I'm sorry."

Gordon ran a hand over his forehead and turned in his seat again, "No, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap but I…I just need to concentrate."

"Dad seemed pretty tense," Alan ventured. "He's worried, isn't he?" He didn't wait for an answer, "I can tell. God, I wish we could go out there…" he sighed longingly.

"I know," Gordon nodded, "me too. But Dad was right about us being there. It wouldn't do anyone any good. Scott doesn't need the extra hassle right now and we're needed here to help find this plane." He paused, understanding how his younger brother was feeling. "I know," he offered Alan a small smile, "but we're making a difference here."

"What do you think it's like out there?" Alan asked. "I'll bet Scott's worried, but he won't be showing it. He'll be ordering people around, and then when no-one's looking he'll do that thing. Y'know? When he pinches his nose and closes his eyes? That's when you know he's really uptight."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, imagining his older brother doing exactly that. "And John'll be working on finding anything and everything he can on these guys. He'll be running around up there," he gestured to Thunderbird Five high in space above him and grinned. "Throwing himself in to it, to avoid thinking about what's going on down here and how far away he is."

Alan nodded, grinning at Gordon's description of his astronaut brother. "What about Virgil?" he asked, sobering. "How do you think he'll be handling all this?"

"Hmm, Virgil," Gordon mused. "Scott said he was okay when he spoke to him and Scott, of all people, would know." He needed to say those words aloud, even though they both knew it. "He'll deal with it. Y'know Virgil, he's strong, he'll be okay."

Alan bit his lip pensively, "I've been trying to imagine it. Y'know, what it must be like for him down there." He shook his head, "I don't think I could stick it out. It must be horrible." Gordon had made it obvious he didn't really want to discuss the matter, so Alan kept his thoughts short. "He must be scared, I know I would be. I'd be petrified. I … On the San Miguel bridge that time… well, I was…"

"No, you weren't," Gordon disagreed. "And neither will Virgil be. Come on, Al," he smiled. "We both know Virgil isn't scared of anything and he's ninety nine point nine percent muscle. Remember when we tried to move him off that lounger when he was asleep?" Gordon laughed, making every effort to lighten the atmosphere. "Geez, I don't think Thunderbird Two could have lifted him!"

Alan snorted a laugh, "Yeah, that was funny. And remember when we tried to scare him with those tarantula things?

It cost me $170 to get the radio controlled mechanism and he just squashed them like them were bugs or something." He laughed again, shaking his head at the memory, another one of Gordon's jokes that turned out not to be so funny. At his expense, too. He'd paid for three spiders, only to have Virgil bring a hardback copy of 'Engineers Monthly' down on top of them.

"See, he's not scared of anything," Gordon said as his grin relaxed. "He'll be fine, you'll see. He'll come out of this just fine."

"I hope so, Gords," Alan replied, his tone sombre. "Dad's not that confident, I know it and it's starting to rub off on me."

"Hmm," Gordon muttered, unhappy at the fact and unwilling to discuss it. "Well Dad's had a bad feeling about all this from the start…"

"Wait!" Alan jumped to his feet and began tapping at the computer in front of him. "How wide is Thunderbird Four? About ten feet?"

"What?" Gordon frowned, and hurried across to stand alongside his brother. He read the information on the screen quickly before releasing Alan was still waiting an answer. "Oh, uh, eleven. Why, what are you thinking?"

"The fuselage on these planes is about eleven feet wide. Thunderbird Four has plenty of space in Pod Four." Alan frowned in concentration, "Thunderbird Two's about sixty feet high, raised to a hundred and ten when the legs are extended. So, that must mean that the pod is roughly fifty feet high, right?"

"Right," Gordon nodded but frowned at his brother's calculations, "So?"

"So," Alan told him, a grin forming on his lips. "One of these planes would fit in a standard pod. Two can carry up to one hundred tons, these things were designed to be light, say they're about fifty or sixty tons, eighty maximum. We could transfer these planes to Wales using Two!" Alan exclaimed excitedly, "And I found one earlier in San Francisco but I ruled it out because it was too far away."

Gordon smiled at his younger brother, leaning forward to look at his plans. "That's great, Al, we'd better go tell Father." His smile suddenly faded as he thought the idea through, applying logic, "Uh oh," he frowned. "Al, for this to work, we'd have to fit this plane in sideways and, look, they have a wingspan of twenty four feet," he extended his hand out to the information on the screen.

The smile well and truly wiped off his face, Alan rushed forward to the screen to see for himself. "But they'll still fit!" he exclaimed. "We just need to think of a way to get them in there, that's all."

"Al," Gordon shook his head. "That isn't going to work."

"Sure it is!" Alan wouldn't be defeated, "We could dismantle the wings or something and then re-assemble them in England. They're hinged for storage anyway, so we'd only have a hinge and a hydraulic ram to re-assemble."

"Wales," Gordon corrected him. "It's possible. We'd be pushing it for the time to do that though. Don't forget the time difference," he admitted silently calculating the times in his head. A beeping noise from the computer he was working at caught his attention and he walked over to it, still mulling the idea over.

"They'll be dead by the time we got there," Alan pointed out, his expression becoming miserable.

"I've got it!" Gordon exclaimed, bending over his computer screen. "Look!" he exclaimed, pointing at the screen in front of him. The excitement in his tone had Alan rushing to his side in a heartbeat. "Look!" he said again. "There's a K40 jet in Ireland, a place called Wicklow. It's just south east of Dublin, here," Gordon brought up a map and pointed out the area. "Now Scott and Virgil are…" he trailed off as he enlarged the map. "Here," he pointed again. "South of the Claerwen Reservoir. It shouldn't be too difficult to fly in from there," he said, smiling hopefully at his younger brother.

"Yeah, now we just need to find an airport where we can refuel it." Alan smiled back. "Come on, we'd better go let Dad now."

Feeling a lot more hopeful than they did a before, they both made their way up to the lounge to tell their father the good news.

XxxxX

Virgil fingered his watch with his right hand. He was biding his time to open a channel to John and he had been for what seemed like an eternity. He'd hoped hours ago that his captors would somehow cause another distraction, arguing like they had before. But to his dismay, nothing had happened. Instead, whilst he sat on edge waiting for an opportunity, his three temporary cohabiters were making themselves at home. Jake had remained at the control console, feet stretched out in front of him and Luke was laid on his back on one of the bench seats, rotating Virgil's gun round his finger in a constant motion.

"Hey!" Billy returned from exploring the storage cupboard at the back of the main cabin. "Look, what I found!" he exclaimed as he opened his arms and several energy bars fell onto the seat. "And that's not all either!" He scurried off again and Virgil winced at the visions he had of the criminal coming back with the laser cutters.

Luke sat up and picked one of the bars up, "Food? Great! I'm starving," he said as he unwrapped one and then screwed his nose up. "What are these things?" he asked, turning to Virgil.

"They're energy bars. They don't taste particularly nice but they contain vitamins and stuff," Virgil informed him. He was beginning to feel despondent and it showed in his tone of voice. "We use them when we don't have time to eat."

Luke nodded and cautiously bit into one; he screwed his face up as if he was sucking on a bitter lemon but managed to swallow. "See what you mean about them not tasting nice," he admitted as he sat back and threw one across the cabin to Jake. Virgil hoped he'd be offered one, even though he knew the taste wasn't all that appealing, his stomach was rumbled with hunger. He'd exhausted himself cutting through to the scientists and he'd skipped breakfast to get there in the first place. He was hungry and thirsty.

Luke recognised Virgil's longing glance and held one of the bars out to him, "Would you like one?" he asked.

Virgil nodded slowly and reached a hand out to take the proffered bar, when it was snatched out of his grasp. He looked up, from his position on the floor, and was unsurprised to see Jake's ominous pose above him.

"What are you doing!" the blond exclaimed. "Haven't I taught you anything?" He shook his head in disgust at Luke and then sat back down. "You've got to show him who's boss now. It's important we establish a hierarchy." He tapped on the side of his head, "It's psychological, see. We have a command structure just like society has a class structure. He has to understand he's at the bottom," Jake smirked. "And they say that criminals are always the underclass." He laughed to himself, tapping the edge of the scalpel he carried against the control console, "It's kind of ironic because in here, you're the underclass." He turned his gaze to Luke and told him firmly, "No fraternising with the enemy."

"The enemy are the scientists and the pen pushers behind all this, Jake," Luke shook his head. "He's just an innocent person," he said, waving a hand at Virgil. "The least we can do is feed him. If you can call this stuff food," he screwed his nose up again.

"Okay, if he wants it, make him ask for it." Jake turned a hard expression and steely eyes towards Virgil. "If you want some of this crap, you ask for it." When Virgil made no attempt to respond he went on, "He needs to learn that up there," Jake raised his eyes heavenward, "he might've been something, a big hero, but down here he's nothing."

Annoyed and infuriated by the constant psychobabble, Virgil sighed and shook his head, "I'm not hungry." The growling from his stomach told the others in the room otherwise, but he wasn't about to let them humiliate him. His pride was something he valued and he wasn't going to give up that easily. He pushed himself to his feet and began walking towards the back of the cabin. A rough hand on his arm stopped him and he turned quickly only to find Jake's scalpel pressed, once more, against his skin.

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes. The more Jake did it, the more he got used to the sensation of the cold metal against his skin and the less it shocked him. "I need to use the bathroom," Virgil informed him, returning the unbreakable gaze.

With a growl of anger, Jake pushed him backwards against the bench seat. Virgil stumbled back and hit his head hard on the corner of the seat. He felt Jake's hand in his hair, yanking his head backwards. Automatically, Virgil lashed out, trying to fight himself free but Jake's hand was already round his throat. Virgil barely had time to recover from the wrenching motion before he realised Jake was slowly crushing his windpipe. He coughed and spluttered for the required oxygen.

"You don't go anywhere without one of us now," Jake snarled into his ear. "You hear me?"

Virgil struggled to get an answer out, trying desperately to release Jake's hands from the iron strong grip they had around his neck. Realising the reason for Virgil's lack of response, Jake slackened his grip, but only a little.

"Okay," Virgil coughed. Jake released him and he crashed to the floor like a lead weight, gasping for urgently required breath.

"You're too soft, Luke!" Jake smirked as he wandered back to his seat at the main control console. "You need hardening up, Mate," he smiled.

Luke just glared at him, and shook his head. "Get up, Virgil," he said. "I'll take you, come on. Which way is it?"

Virgil stumbled to his feet and glared at Jake, before leading Luke to an unmarked starboard hatch, they disappeared through it and into a small corridor. Virgil opened the first door on his right and stepped inside, closing it in Luke's face.

"Jake knows what he's doing," Luke's voice floated through the thin door as Virgil leant against the mirror and looked at himself. "He's done this kind of thing before, y'know, professionally," Luke continued. Virgil didn't reply, instead turning away from the hand basin and using the toilet. "That's how he knows all that psycho stuff. Y'know," Luke said again, after a few minutes, "I can't decide whether you're really brave or really stupid. If you keep this up, he will kill you."

"I know," Virgil told him, distracted by his thoughts.

"Then you're stupid," Luke decided. "You're not just killing yourself, you're killing all of us. You'll be as much a murderer as I am," he waited for a response but didn't receive one.

Instead, on the other side of the door, Virgil held his hands under the taps in the basin. When the water started flowing, he raised his watch and switched the sound down before silently opening a channel with Thunderbird Five.

"Vir…" John's picture appeared on the screen but trailed off when Virgil put a finger to his lips, indicating he be quiet.

"Are you nearly done in there?" Luke was asking through the door.

Virgil gestured to his brother, informing him that he couldn't talk. John nodded, mouthing the words, 'Are you okay?'

Virgil nodded and signalled that he would leave his watch on sound only. From the other side of the door Luke tried the handle and asked again, "Virgil, come on. I mean it! I might not be Jake but I'm not a walkover either!"

Virgil motioned to his brother that he had to go and John nodded. He signed the words 'be careful' before Virgil flicked the communications device to sound only and opened the door.

"About bloody time!" Luke exclaimed as Virgil immerged. "I was beginning to think you'd got swallowed up. I'm warning you," he pushed a finger at Virgil's chest, "Don't take me for a ride."

Virgil had to stop suppress a laugh. Luke was a little younger than he was but easily matched Virgil's build. His attempts at following Jake's example and appearing intimidating were… well, far from intimidating. Virgil swallowed, though his heartbeat echoed in his ears and he took a deep breath. He knew that if Jake found out what he'd just done, there was no doubt as to his reaction. "I'm sorry, Luke, really I am," Virgil's apology was sincere enough.

Luke just gestured back to the main cabin, "Get in there."

Virgil entered the cabin to find Jake hadn't moved but that Billy had reappeared, with the bottled water they had stored in the cupboard.

"Look what I found!" the blond smiled. "Here," he threw a bottle to Luke and Virgil noticed the other two were already drinking. Deciding to keep a low profile, he sat down in the gap between the seats and watched them drink.

He was parched. The heat from the fire and the exertion from cutting through the steel doors had left him dry and dehydrated. He yearned for just a mouthful of the water that the other three gulped down.

He tried to take his mind off it. Noticing that Luke had gone back to playing with his gun, he made a show of saying, "Be careful there, Luke, I know my gun's the preferred weapon over the three scalpels you brought but it's not one hundred percent safe, especially when you toss it around like that."

His watch vibrated and he knew John had received the message. He went on stating the obvious, giving John all the details he could before Jake told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. Reluctantly, Virgil sat back and lapsed into silence.

Billy was busy sharing out the water and the energy bars between the three of them but Luke turned back to Jake with a frown. "So, what now?"

"Now, we wait," Jake glanced at his watch. "Hey, Billy, were there any blankets in that storage room?" Billy nodded and pushed himself to his feet, going to fetch the requested items. "I guess we might as well get some sleep. Big day ahead of us tomorrow," he said casually glancing at his watch.

Virgil glanced at his own watch. The time had gone surprisingly quickly and he struggled to believe that they'd been down there hours as opposed to minutes. He rechecked the time. Sure, he was tired from the adrenaline rush and the exertion of the rescue, but he wasn't ready to sleep yet. As he watched Jake stretch and yawn, and Billy hand out the blankets, a plan formed in his mind.

XxxxX

"I've got good news and bad," John told Scott as soon as the line was established. "Which one do you want first?"

"Bad?" Scott frowned, "How can this possibly get any worse?" He took in John's raised eyebrow, "Okay, give me the bad news first."

John nodded, "Gordon and Alan have found a K40 jet, somewhere in Ireland."

"They've found one? That's not in a museum?" Scott grinned at his brother through the communications window. "That's good news! It's great, how fast can they get it here?" The older brother asked, enthusiasm evident in his voice for the first time in a long while.

"Well…." John shrugged. "That's where the bad news comes in. They can't find an air field close enough where they can refuel it. But they're still looking and Brains is on the case," not wanting to dwell on the thought that they may not manage to get the jet to Wales in time, John moved on. "The good news is, Virgil contacted me," as John had predicted, Scott's head shot up to look at him. Without the need for questioning, he readily told his older brother everything, "He managed to open up a line with me about half an hour ago. I would have called, but he's been keeping me busy, dropping hints. So far, I know that they have three scalpels and they're using his gun. They've found the food and water supplies," he knew Scott was concerned about the necessities and was pleased when the news seemed to relieve his brother. "But as far as I can make out, they haven't given Virgil anything yet."

Scott nodded but he was distracted. John's words reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet either. He resolved to grab a bar from Thunderbird Two, "Did you speak to Virgil? Is he okay?"

John shook his head, "Only for a few seconds. He said he was okay, but he looked a little flushed. He was on edge, Scott," he admitted. "I'm monitoring the feed from his watch."

"Okay," Scott nodded. "Well, I've set up a tent between One and Two, Dr. Hunt and Ned Cook are in there now." He scratched the back of his head, "Penny and Parker are heading this way too, they're about an hour out."

"What about Cook?" John seemed sceptical, a deep frown formed on his features. "You really think we can trust him?"

Scott sighed, "Yeah, I think we can." He could see John was wondering whether he was beginning to place his anxiety for Virgil's safety over the practicalities of what they were doing. "He won't say anything, John, and if I ask him not to publish this story, I know he won't. He's changed a lot since what happened in New York," Scott saw his brother was unconvinced. "You weren't there at his show, he's genuinely grateful."

"Hmm," John raised his eyebrows. "Good, because this could be damaging to us too, if it got out. Don't get me wrong, Scott, I'm worried about Virgil, of course I am, and I want him back as quickly and as safely as is possible. But if people see that we'll respond to threats then we're going to become a target."

"I said the exact same thing to Dad. Don't worry, these guys aren't going to get away with it, John. They'll get their just desserts, you'll see," Scott nodded. "Penny's always had a soft spot for Virgil, and now that she's on the case I can't see them getting away lightly."

John grinned at the comment. Though Scott had always remained tight-lipped about it, despite John's best attempts otherwise, there was something in the air when both Virgil and Penelope were mentioned. John often wondered how his second oldest brother really felt about the British aristocrat. He was sure Scott knew everything; he usually did when it came to Virgil. "What makes you say that?" John asked, not so discreetly. "Or, are you still sore from when she went on that rescue and chose to travel with Virgil to the Sahara Desert, instead of you?"

Scott scowled good naturedly, "I've told you a thousand times, John. That had nothing to do with Penelope deciding anything. I'd already left before Dad gave her the go ahead. She'd missed the boat." He was grateful for the distraction. Anything to take his mind from the dark places it had wondered into before John had called.

"Sure she did," John grinned back. He knew his older brother a lot better than anyone ever gave him credit for and though he could never understand just how worried Scott was, he had a good idea. To him, Virgil might not have been the soul mate he was to Scott, but he was still his brother.

Scott's grin faded and the gravity of the situation fell back down on his shoulders. The relief was a nice break from the intense apprehension he had been experiencing. "I hate the idea of him being down there with those guys," he admitted.

"I know," John nodded. "Me too, but you know Virgil as well as anyone, Scott. He's not stupid, he can handle himself and he'll think things through. It takes a lot to send him over the edge." John smirked, "Just ask Alan and Gordon."

Scott's frown didn't lift, as John had expected, at the mention of the younger two. "He doesn't respond well to threats, John."

"Yeah," John agreed. "And he doesn't feel threatened all that easily either. Scott, he's doing fine. He's not the first one of us to be held at gunpoint, remember all that on the Ambro River, last year?"

"Remember it?" Scott scoffed, "How could I forget it?"

John watched as Scott sighed and ran a hand over his eyes, "What?" John asked. Getting the distinct impression he'd just put his foot in it, he waited for Scott's reply. The expression on his face didn't bode well.

"It's just…" Scott began, and then shrugged. "Nothing, it doesn't matter." John opened his mouth to press further but Scott beat him to it, "How's that fire now?" Back to business, John thought glumly, a sure sign Scott didn't want to talk about it. And when John thought about it, he could understand why, now was not the time or the place.

"The fire's contained. In fact, I checked the research center's main computer a few minutes ago and it looked like it was starting to die out." John relayed, checking another console whilst he continued to speak to his brother. "The fire fighting equipment they have installed down there is top of the line. Even Brains is impressed. This could have been a thousand times worse if we'd had that to contend with too."

"Yeah, well," Scott muttered back. "At least they got something right." He turned away from John to answer shouting from his left, "John, I've got to go. Cook wants me in the tent."

"Okay," John smiled back as hopefully as he felt he could. "I've got FAB1 on the radar, ETA fifty five minutes."

"FAB," Scot nodded. "I'd better set up the sleeping quarters in Thunderbird Two for Penny and Parker."

"What about you?" John frowned. Scott had been dealing with this situation all day and already looked as exhausted as he felt. John knew that when it came to it, Scott would be the last one to sleep right now. "You need to get some rest, Scott, you've got to be sharp." He hesitated, reading all the signs that Scott had no intention of sleeping. "For Virgil's sake," he added, a little uncertain of how his older, controlling brother would react to the gentle persuasion.

Scott glared up at him, "Yeah, and if this newspaper report isn't finished or that plane isn't here when they surface, me being a little cranky will be the least of Virgil's worries." John opened his mouth to apologise, ready to explain what he actually meant by the comment. But for the second time during their conversation, Scott beat him to it. "I'll let you know if there's any change. Call me if Virgil contacts you again." Scott hesitated, "If he does call, tell him… tell him to sit tight and that we're doing everything we can. But be careful, John, the last thing we need is those guys figuring out we're in contact with him."

"FAB," John nodded. He would have expanded further but Scott had already closed the link.

John let his head drop and pushed a big breath through pursed lips. They hadn't experienced a rescue this tough for a long, long time. In fact, he seriously wondered if they'd ever encountered a rescue this tough. Alan and Grandma had been threatened and forced up to the San Miguel Bridge, which had been harrowing for them all. And Scott had been held hostage by Culp on the Ambro River and taken prisoner by the Zombites in the Pyramid of Khamandides. That thought caused John to halt what he was doing. Maybe that was why Scott was so on edge about all this. He knew what Virgil would be going through down there better than most. Or maybe it ignited past experiences that Scott would've rather remained in the past. John shook his head, not wanting to dwell on the notion.

XxxxX

Virgil glanced at his watch again, it had been another five hours since he'd first managed to contact John but he knew his brother would be listening. Virgil had watched the other three demolish their way through two boxes of energy bars. Too proud to ask, he'd just sat back and watched them in disgust. After sitting on the floor whilst the other three discussed strategy for a good three hours, he was pleased when Jake announced that they should all try to get some sleep. Not to be trusted on his own, Jake had decided that they would take turns to listen out for any radio contact and keep an eye on Virgil.

Virgil gingerly allowed his eyelids to part, just enough to see out. Jake and Billy were both asleep on either of the bench seats, a blanket draped over either of them, but Luke was sat opposite him. The younger man's eyelids had been drooping for the last ten minutes. Sure enough, Virgil continued his covert operation and watched as Luke's head sagged too.

Virgil lay perfectly still, shivering against the cool of the metal floor he laid on. There had been no offer of a blanket and though the life support systems were functioning, the air recycler was struggling and probably using most of the power. As a result, the air flowing was cool but stuffy and without the cover of a blanket and being on the floor, Virgil was feeling the chill more than the others were. If there was any doubt before about the oxygen levels in the air, there could be none now. The air quality had disintegrated over the last few hours, to the point where Virgil wondered if the computer had over calculated their time left. He gave it a few minutes more, to ensure that Luke was suitably asleep.

Silently he let his eyes open and adjust to the lighting. He had thought long and hard about what he was about to do. If it worked, it would be over and they would be heading back to the surface within minutes. On the other hand, if it didn't, it could all be over in a completely different way.

His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing became unsteady. He felt a weird combination of fear and tension, a feeling that Virgil wasn't used to at all. He swallowed and tried to gain some control over his trembling hands, another thing he noted that he wasn't used to experiencing.

Virgil took in a deep breath and blew it out, now was his chance. He raised his watch to his lips. "John," he kept his voice low, a mere whisper barely loud enough to hear over the snoring coming from the bench seats. "John," he tried again. "If you can hear me, they're all asleep. I'm going to try something…"

Virgil was surprised that he didn't get a response. He knew his brother would be busy but he also knew that neither Scott nor John would be getting much sleep right now. He wondered if there was some kind of problem with the communications and checked that the channel was still open. From the bench seat to his left, Billy groaned and turned over.

The noise startled Virgil and he jumped, holding his breath until Billy settled again. He sighed and wiped a hand over the sweat forming on his brow. Realising just how jittery he was, he made a new effort to calm himself. He got to his feet as silently as he could and moved through the cabin with slow precision. Firstly, he headed towards Luke and retrieved his gun from where it'd fallen into the young kidnapper's lap.

It wasn't difficult for Virgil to move Luke's limp hand out of the way and take possession back of the firearm. In fact, all was going very smoothly as he crept past his sleeping captors and headed for the storage bay at the back of the cabin. He tiptoed along, taking in every one of Billy's strident snores, every creak of the floor and every second of the constant whirring coming from the fans in the background. But as he reached a hand out to the door, something made him hesitate.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Silence.

Virgil froze, his chest rising and falling at about the same frequency his heart was beating. He swallowed, realising that the silence gave everything away in itself.

Billy's snoring no longer echoed around the empty cabin.

Virgil closed his eyes as he felt a razor-sharp, pointed edge press against the base of his neck. He cursed himself.

Wrapping his fingers around the gun in his hands, he took a deep breath. Turning with a speed and precision that Scott would have been proud of, he raised an arm up and knocked the scalpel away. Proceeding to level the barrel of the gun between Billy's eyes, he belatedly heard the metal knife clatter to the floor.

Virgil's finger tightened around the trigger in anger but he hesitated.

"You're not going to shoot me," Billy smiled at him, his smug grin just furthering Virgil's anger. "International Rescue's about saving lives isn't it? You couldn't deal with the fallout if you did."

Deep down he knew he could never live with himself if he pulled the trigger; however, Billy's certainty caused rage to explode inside of him. He felt the heat building behind his eyes, fury at their attitude and fury at himself for getting caught.

"You're very confident about that," Virgil observed.

"Go on," Billy told him. "Pull the trigger, see how far you get." Beads of sweat broke out on Virgil's forehead as he fought a battle of wills inside him. He so wanted to do exactly that, his brain was telling him it was the only way out of this disastrous situation but his heart was telling him he'd never forgive himself for ending another person's life. No matter what they were doing.

"Course, if you do," Billy went on, shrugging his shoulder. "You realise that makes you no different from us. You'll be a murderer. A criminal, scum of the earth."

Virgil's ragged breathing was the only thing that broke the tense silence as the drama unfolded. He struggled, his grip tightened again on the trigger but he couldn't work up the energy to pull it. Deep down he knew it was his only way out. Jake would make him pay now so it was a case of his life or Billy's. It still went against everything he stood for, though.

Strangely enough, the conversation he'd had with his father in his final year at Denver sprang into his mind and replayed itself. Jeff had wanted him to follow Scott's example and join the Air Force. Virgil's reasoning for not going was the potential killing. He'd told his father he didn't believe in it and after much discussion, Jeff had respected his decision. With three ex-service men in the house though, the idea of killing in the name of your country had always been a debating point and one that Virgil had always avoided. Jeff's words played over in his head, 'You don't have to fight to be a man in this house, Virgil, you know that. But you're getting older and it's a dog eat dog world out there. I think a stint in the Air Force would do you good.'

"Go on!" Billy's cry startled Virgil back into the presence. "Do it!" Billy's own hand was on the barrel of the gun, pushing it harder against his forehead.

Virgil frowned, torn. The sweat now running down his face, like streams to the open river. 'Sometimes it's kill or be killed; the choice is as simple as that,' Scott's voice this time, no doubt the product of one of their 'discussions'. With that in mind, Virgil Tracy did something he always told himself he never would.

He held the gun steady against Billy's forehead.

He closed his eyes.

And he pulled the trigger.