Chapter 6 – The Next Morning

Jeff Tracy was awake early the next morning. His first action was to visit John in the infirmary. His son's condition appeared unchanged since the previous night. Brains ensured him that the young man remained stable and was in no immediate danger, but cautioned that the exact nature of the problem was unknown, so the situation could change. John himself was currently asleep, as evidenced by the pattern of his brainwaves on one of the many monitor screens. Jeff felt reassured and reminded Brains to call for him if anything changed.

The next task on the billionaire's list was to see what the Internet had to say about the disappearance of the president. He walked up to his office and fired up the custom search tool required for the job. John had designed IR's web-trawling software to collect important news items and display them grouped by topic, making this task quick and easy. Jeff was pleased to see that the media were focusing on the assassination of the First Gentleman, with Haze generally listed as unavailable for comment, possibly in hiding. Obviously those who knew that she was missing had kept a lid on this disturbing fact, not wanting the nation to erupt into panic.

While he munched on the apple he'd grabbed as a precursor to breakfast, Jeff weighed his options. The president had to be kept safe, but she couldn't be kept in secret indefinitely without endangering global peace. He had to break the news that she was safe but in hiding, without putting IR's security at risk. There was also the issue of her presidential duties. And there was the matter of whatever conspiracy Haze's husband was into, which lead to the question of who could be trusted. Perhaps some of his contacts could provide inside information to the situation…

Before Jeff could complete the thought, a beeping informed him of a voice transmission from one of IR's many agents. "Agent Eleven, what do you have?"

"You've seen the news about Yarworth?"

"Have they told you anything more?" Jeff cut straight to the important question.

"Not about Harriet. For all I know, she could be kidnapped or…" the man couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"If they knew for certain, the world would know. A presidential assassination isn't something that can be kept quiet. I figure you actually calling to ask if I know anything more, correct?"

"Yes, Jeff. I know you were out on a firefighting op in the area, just after Yarworth's time of death. But the two people you rescued were agents. What's going on?"

"We actually rescued three people, Chuck," Jeff answered, letting the man figure out what that implied.

"My daughter is on base?" The agent's extreme relief was obvious, even with the signal compression and extreme encryption.

"She called the 'direct line to IR in case of national emergency' number. We picked her up covertly."

"Thank God. Seriously."

Jeff shook his head. "Let's not get into that discussion, old friend." He heard Agent 11, Chuck Blaze, sigh heavily. "Since you're her father, it makes sense that International Rescue would contact you to inform you of her safety."

"Allowing me to tell the rest of the world that she's safe with IR without risking security," Chuck completed.

"Exactly."

"There's a large security detail around the house, making sure that no more of the president's family is harmed. It would make sense for me to tell them. But first, how is she?" Fatherly concern was apparent.

"Has a nasty bruise, thanks to a bulletproof vest," Jeff dropped.

"She was shot!?"

"Unsuccessfully," Jeff parried. "Otherwise, she's well. And rather unbereaved. She's said that Yarworth helped her become president for his own benefit. We're still working on discovering what he was actually up to. Brains is trying to access the files from his damaged PDA that your daughter brought us."

"I always warned her that he was trouble, but you know how she is. I wish she hadn't had to go though all this, but she'll cope. And I have the feeling she's president for a reason." There was a brief silence. "Can I talk to her some time?"

"I'll have a secure relay set up so she can securely talk to whoever she needs to. The world will need to see her to know that she's really safe, after you've spread that she's in hiding. I don't expect she will feel safe going back to the States, right now, but she still has duties to carry out."

"I understand. I'd better go get the ball rolling. Thanks for looking after my little girl, Jeff."

"Any time, Chuck."

Later, at the breakfast table…

The three youngest regular inhabitants of the island were the last to rise, having stayed up later than typical. Thus they found themselves alone at the breakfast table with a choice of fruit, cereal, or a few cold pancakes that had somehow escaped Alan's older brothers. This left Alan a little grumpy and unready for questioning.

"Did you really rescue the American President?" Tin-tin asked as soon as he had swallowed his first bite of banana.

"Yes, she's here on the island," Alan snapped back. "She was right behind us, remember? Scott introduced her."

"I wondered who she was, but figured you and Scott had to be pulling some prank."

"You didn't believe Scott?"

"She was wearing oily overalls," Tin-tin replied, as if that settled it.

"She was fleeing for her life," Alan countered. "Through a sewer."

"Ew! Seriously, Alan, how could the president – who I should remind you has even more celebrity status for being the number one singer in the world – even think of setting foot in a sewer?"

"M-mister Tracy called her Madam P-p-president. He wouldn't joke about that," Fermat pointed out, very matter-of-fact.

"Oh. So… President Haze is actually somewhere in this house right now?" The girl's excitement rose exponentially as she spoke, almost becoming a solid object.

"Yes, and she's ravenously hungry," a melodious almost poured through the doorway.

Tin-tin squealed.

On the balcony, outside the second-best guest room…

If Lady Penelope was at all upset about being kicked out of her regular suite in favour of an American (even if she was the president), she didn't show it. She did, however, tap her foot slightly as she read the paper in the cool morning air. Parker should have been back by now, and his absence had forced her to read a boring article, having finished the interesting ones.

"Milady?"

"Oh, there you are, Parker. Whatever took you so long?"

"A hunfortunate hincident, Milady."

"Whatever is wrong, Parker?"

"It's the 'ood, Milady."

"The Hood, Parker?"

"Yes, Milady."

Back at the breakfast table…

Jeff located the hidden plate of pancakes that had been kept warm for him and set it down in the empty place beside the president. "Good morning. How were the accommodations, Mada…"

"Haze. And I slept fine."

"Good to hear… Haze." He noticed three mostly full plates that were missing their owners. "What happened to the kids?" he asked, confused.

"Changing into dry clothes. Tin-tin needed to be pushed into the pool. She responded by pulling Alan in, and Fermat was splashed in the ensuing theatrics."

"Sheneeded to be pushed?"

"Don't ask."

Jeff nodded. "I see. Moving along… I just spoke with your father. He's one of my best agents."

"My dad works for you?"

"No, he's just someone I can go to for information and the occasional favour. I briefed him on the situation. He will be releasing the news of your safety to the public. I'll set up a secure video link so you can communicate with the outside world. That way, you can stay in safety without the rest of the world stopping."

Haze digested this plan. "When you say a secure link, do you mean your security or mine?"

Jeff realized that the president wanted to be certain that her transmissions would be secret even from International Rescue. "Both. You have my word. But first, we need to get you some new clothes." He indicated the borrowed dressing gown she was wearing. It was somewhat too big, as it belonged to the taller Lady Penelope.

"You're right. But I can't exactly go shopping myself, even if I did have something to wear. I'd be recognised."

"Tin-tin loves shopping. I can send her with the necessary data and she'll have what you need in nearly no time. One of the boys can fly her to… Sydney. Would that do?"

Haze nodded her assent. "Could you spare a pancake?" Fortunately, she was interrupted from the line of questioning by the noisy return of the kids. After the plan had been explained, Tin-tin (who had narrowly avoided a second dunking) went off in search of a pilot. Haze typed up a list of what she needed and the three guys checked in on John.

A little later…

Penny found Jeff in the hallway after he had seen John. "Ah, good morning, Jeff."

"Morning, Penny. You're on your way back to England soon, correct?"

"Yes, now that that party is over, I need to be getting back. But there's been a minor delay, so it won't be until after lunch, if that isn't a problem."

"A problem? Never. What's the delay?"

"Parker took FAB-1 out for a morning spin, as he likes to do to ensure everything stays in top shape. Unfortunately he hit a bird, which put a nasty dent in the hood. So he's busy with a panel-beating mallet and quick-dry paint, and has had to put off packing."

Jeff considered offering Kyrano's assistance, but Parker would not want his duties usurped. Plus, he didn't want Penny to think he was in a rush for her to leave. "Care to walk on the beach while you wait?"

"That would be lovely."

The hundredth-or-so clothing store in Sydney…

Gordon Tracy sat on a bench, surrounded by bags. He was starting to regret playing pilot, but he hadn't had much opportunity lately. And then there were the hobby stores, calling his name and demanding that he buy items useful for pranks. Unfortunately, this wasn't possible, as Tin-tin was somewhere nearby, chattering with a sales lady about something he didn't understand. There was no way he could escape for a useful length of time without her noticing his absence. So he sat and wondered if there was a way he could bribe her to let him do some of his own shopping.

As he waited, Gordon watched the stream of passers-by. To amuse himself, he wondered about what he called their "clothing motivations". There were office workers, trying to look like more proficient workers and get that job or that raise. Salesmen, wanting to look trustworthy so their customers would believe they really needed that new gadget that happened to have a high commission. Teens wanting to look cool, or dangerous, or whatever was needed to be "in" with their particular chosen group peers. Executives and lawyers after an air of power, showing that they were in control – of some small part of the world. The lovely red-haired young woman who looked like a tourist out for a day of shopping. Who looked like…

An unwanted memory popped into the swimmer's mind. An awful memory of haunting sounds. The sound of a small explosion, silence, and then a piercing scream.

Gordon jerked at the intensity of the memory, knocking one of the bags to the floor. The woman turned towards the sound and looked right at him. She studied him. The memories tried to surface again, but Gordon pushed them down, as he had always done. The mental struggle froze him. He realised someone had called his name. The world snapped back into focus. His eyes darted to Tin-tin. She was holding two dresses, standing with her back to him. It hadn't been her, then, so who…?

"Gordon Tracy?" the young woman asked.

"Yeah?" Gordon felt lost, like he had stepped out of Thunderbird 4's airlock and found himself floating in space.

"Gordon!" She lunged, and he found himself being hugged. "Gordon, I though I'd never see you again!" She giggled, which set off more memories, which froze him again. "Before you say anything, you should know that I forgive you. Completely. Okay?"

"Uh…" His conscious mind had no idea what she was talking about.

She suddenly realised that he was lost. "Gordon? You don't remember me?"

"I… who… What??"

Her face turned sad, then understanding. "I don't suppose you'd want to. But it's alright now, really it is."

Gordon's conscious mind briefly jumped into the impossibility that had gathered in his subconscious. Of course he knew who she was. But she obviously wasn't. And he couldn't consider it for more than an instant, because of the pain.

The woman the brief flicker in his eyes. "You know," she prompted softly.

"Kylie." Even though he didn't accept it, some part of Gordon's mind forced him to whisper it.

Kylie flashed a happy smile. "The one and only."

"I'm dreaming." Gordon was completely unable to accept this as reality.

"No, I'm really Kylie Benson, and you're really Gordon Tracy." She pinched him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"Not dreaming." Her eyes danced with familiar mirth. A precious thing which should be impossible.

"You're really here," Gordon stated, accepting the undeniable and ignoring the impossibility.

"Yep."

"You can see me," He added.

"Sure can."

"How?"

"I'm glad you asked."

Author's Note:
I actually wrote this entire chapter today!
Many thanks to all reviewers. And I hope those who haven't reviewed are enjoying it regardless.