2:06 p.m.
John lay in his stretcher and tried to sleep, but his mind and body persisted in telling him that he wasn't tired, he wasn't sore, and that he should be out there helping his brothers save lives instead of lying down feeling like a fraud. Surely there was something he could do?
He sat up gingerly, experiencing no sign of the nausea that had plagued him earlier and thinking that he should radio home. This would have the dual purpose of letting his family know that they had no need to worry over him, and would give him the chance to see what was happening without getting in the way. Maybe then his dad, with Brains' assurances that he was all right, would let him leave the Waterfall? Then he could help out by doing what he did best; relaying communications between the danger zone, Thunderbird Five, and base. He knew from long, hard experience how difficult it was to be cut off from the action with little knowledge of what was happening.
Satisfied with his plan he was about to get up when he found himself ejected without warning from the stretcher. As a roar ran through the complex it took his startled and overwhelmed brain a moment to realise what had happened.
Earthquake.
If it was an aftershock, it was a big one. Maybe not as big as the catastrophic event of 8:38 this morning, but if it were shallower than the original quake it had the potential to be just as destructive.
If not more so.
Struggling to get to his feet before giving it up as a bad job, he attempted to scramble clear of Mobile Control, which was jiggering across the park like it had a bad case of the hiccups. He had to re-evaluate his plans when he realised that Thunderbird One was swaying more than Thunderbird Four in a category three cyclone, and that the crampons that Scott had driven into the ground to keep the rocket plane's stabilising feet in place were raking through the soil towards him. One violent thrust threatened to tip the rocket plane over and her port leg reared up: soil dripping from the spikes. John, visions of being impaled on a large, heavy piece of metal, rolled clear just as the foot slammed down again.
Thunderbird One stopped her rocking dance.
The Earth stilled.
-F-A-B-
Gordon had just reached Thunderbird Two's flight deck when the earthquake hit. Unprepared for the upheaval and with his height above the ground accentuating the Earth's movement, he was tossed against the bulkhead. He had no chance to brace himself before he was pitched across the floor and slammed against the pilot's seat's support pillar. Winded, he grabbed hold of the pillar and hung on for dear life, glad that everything in the cabin was firmly tied down and that he wasn't the target of any stray objects that might have started flying about the room.
That was until a fire extinguisher at the rear of the cabin broke loose, hitting the floor and sending a spray of foam everywhere. The stream hit Gordon full on the back, soaking him with flame-retardant chemical before the cylinder, propelled by the pressure it was releasing, rocketed towards him. He ducked and felt it brush his hair before it ricocheted with a clang off Thunderbird Two's control panel. It rolled back a few centimetres and then, with a final gurgle, discharged the last of its contents and lay silent.
The Earth stilled.
Gordon lay just as motionless for a moment, running a mental checklist of possible injuries through his mind, before deciding that he was unharmed.
He realised that that had the potential to be a short-lived state of affairs when he started gagging on the extinguisher's contents. He staggered to his feet, knowing that the heavier than air gas was being cleaned by Thunderbird Two's filtration system. As he heard the aeroplane beep an all clear to tell him that she'd finished her automatic diagnostics check and that all was well for future flights, he glanced outside.
The scene had changed.
ACE appeared to be a burning heap and, as Gordon watched, a fireball exploded out of the rear of the building. His body switching to automatic self-preservation mode, he ducked behind Thunderbird Two's control panel. When conscious thought returned, he straightened and was relieved to see that the gas bay was still intact.
Then he noticed something else.
The earthquake, possibly coupled with the pressure wave from the explosion, had lifted the roof of the furnace building and pushed it sideways until it had slipped off its foundations. Now it was partially on the ground, leaning against the Firefly and blocking access to the International Rescue vehicle.
Ignoring his sodden fire-suit, Gordon slipped into the pilot's seat. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five!" Without waiting for a response, he launched the aeroplane into the air.
"Thunderbird Five. Go ahead, Thunderbird Two."
"We've had another massive 'quake, Alan!" Gordon turned Thunderbird Two to face the burning building.
"What?!" Alan made a dive for Thunderbird Five's console, bringing up the on-screen seismograph. "That was a shallow one."
"Tell me about it. I was nearly bisected on Two's pilot seat." His eyes scanning the devastation below for any sign of his brothers, Gordon moved Thunderbird Two closer. "I think the paint bay's blown. I'm going to try to dampen it down again."
"Wouldn't it be safer to leave it?"
"Negative. The gas bay's untouched so far. If the fire spreads and that goes, the entire complex and much of the surrounding countryside is going with it."
"Is there any chance of that?"
"Yes. The last explosion took out part of the wall next to it. A couple of metres further and ACE would be obliterated."
Alan checked the plans of the complex that had been provided by his father. "Oxygen… Acetylene… Argon… Dehydroidizine… Hydrogen… You're right… There's enough there to make a crater the size of Tracy Island's."
"That's what I tho…"
"Gordon?" Alan heard his brother's voice peter off and felt his own stomach drop. "Gordon? What's wrong?"
What was wrong was that Gordon had spied a silver-suited figure lying on the ground. Up to this point the person had been hidden by the destruction to the furnace building and Gordon knew that there were few options as to who it could be. "Can you contact Scott?"
"I've been sending him a please respond, but he hasn't." Gordon could hear the concern in his younger brother's voice. "Why?"
"I think I can see him. He's on the ground." Gordon made up his mind. "I'm landing again."
"No! As you said if the gas bay goes everyone's had it. I'll contact Uncle Hamish and get him to assist. He'll get there quicker than you anyway."
"No need." As he moved in so that he could send a stream of fire-retardant onto the base of the skyward shooting flames, Gordon had spied two figures speeding towards the individual that he'd assumed was his eldest brother. "The cavalry's already on the way."
"Good," Gordon could hear Alan's relief.
"Any word from Virgil?"
"Negative."
"Releasing extinguishing foam… I'll send you Thunderbird Two's security video from when we flew over the furnace building for analysis." Gordon pressed the necessary buttons. "See if you can see Virgil or the others."
"F-A-B." Alan accepted the video file and played it through at normal speed before replaying it slower. "Where's the Firefly?"
"In the southwest corner of the building. You can't see it because of the roof."
"What?!" Alan examined the footage. "Is that what's propped against the building?"
"Yeah. Can you see Scott?"
"You're right. He's down and he doesn't look good."
Gordon increased the extinguisher's output, raising Thunderbird Two as International Rescue's extinguishing foam solidified and created a solid barrier against the oxygen filled air that was fuelling the flames. "How about the rest of them?"
Alan released a low whistle. "I can see through the roofing beams. That furnace hasn't cooled down at all. I can see the glow from the molten metal."
"Any sign of Virgil?"
Alan froze a frame and zoomed in. "No. Brains was right; those beams are too close together. The only reason why I can see the furnace is because it's so much brighter than the rest of the interior."
"See if you can raise Virgil. I need to concentrate on putting this fire out." Gordon swung Thunderbird Two around so he could change his angle of attack. As he did so he glanced out of the cockpit windows and felt his blood run cold.
Sunbeam Preschool was a distance away from ACE; far enough away that everyone in authority had assumed that it was safe from any potential disasters that might befall a major industrial plant. Yet the force of the last explosion had been powerful enough to cross a carpark, a road, a play area and level some trees before blasting out a wall. What had been a largely untouched building was now a crumbling ruin and Gordon hated to think what would have happened if he hadn't got the children and their carers out.
Telling himself that to dwell on what might have been was a pointless exercise, he concentrated on containing the fire burning beneath him.
-F-A-B-
The shallow earthquake had created as much upheaval for the couple waiting in the tent on Patillo Park as it had for those elsewhere in the complex. Thrown from their chairs, thoughtfully provided by International Rescue, Hamish Mickelson and Olivia Annan found themselves being tossed about by the writhing ground. The tent, unable to withstand the assault, had collapsed onto them, covering them like a shroud.
The Earth stilled.
Hamish found himself tied up in what appeared to be a giant knot of waterproof cloth. Squirming against the tent's folds, he pulled himself free. "Olivia? Are you all right?"
The mound next to him moved and a head of tousled hair peeked out. "Is it over?"
Hamish kicked the tent off his legs. "For now."
"Good." Olivia pushed the cloth off her body and demurely smoothed down her skirt. "How long will the aftershocks continue?"
"I wish I knew." Hamish got to his feet and assisted his PA to hers. "International Rescue said it could be months."
"Oh…" She accepted his help and then froze. "Can you hear anything?"
He listened; frowning. "No."
"No. Neither can I." Olivia tightened her grip on the hand that was still steadying her. "Do you think everyone's all right?"
They heard a blast of noise as Thunderbird Two's engines roared into life.
Olivia's eyes widened. "That doesn't sound like that Firefly thing. What if something's happened to it?"
Hamish moved as if he was going to check and then stopped as indecision overtook him. Scott's instructions were that he was to remain with Olivia and he wasn't used to disobeying orders…
But sometimes orders were meant to be disobeyed.
He made his decision. "Wait here. I'm going to see if they need help." He walked smartly away.
Olivia watched him as he stopped, stared… and then broke into a run towards the furnace building. The last time that she'd seen her boss move with such haste he'd been concerned about the wellbeing of members of his workforce. On that day lives had literally hung in the balance.
Olivia hoped that today wasn't going to be a repeat of that day.
As much out of a desire to help as out of sheer curiosity, she followed her boss's path, determined that she would stop when she could see whatever it was that had inspired him to move at a speed that belied his age and position in society. Once she had done that, she promised herself, she would observe if her assistance was needed. If it wasn't she would return to the tent, see what she could do about erecting it unaided, and wait until she was told that she could leave her self-imposed prison.
She reached her designated destination and looked towards the furnace building.
And Olivia forgot her promise to herself…
-F-A-B-
Having regained his breath after his duel with Thunderbird One and the Earth, John made a decision.
Flipping his hood back over his protective-helmeted head, he slipped through the Waterfall. If International Rescue had encountered any problems after that 'quake he could take over communications and leave Scott to concentrate on the more important tasks. If they hadn't, he reasoned that he could still do the same thing.
He heard the engines of Thunderbird Two blast into life seconds before he saw the running business-suited figure of Hamish Mickelson. This wasn't a good sign.
Breaking into a sprint of his own he caught up with and overtook the older man as they passed the gas bay; the sight of his brother on the ground giving his feet extra speed. As he approached the silver-suited figure, he realised that he didn't even know which brother it was…
-F-A-B-
When the 'quake had hit, Scott had done all that he could do when the Earth's upheaval had knocked his feet out from under him – fallen to the ground and stayed there; curled in a protective ball as he rode out the nauseating waves. He heard the roar when the remaining vats of paint ruptured and exploded. He was blasted by the pressure wave that lifted the roof of the furnace building up off its seating. He was pelted by clouds of dust and other debris when the heavy slab of insulating materials crashed into the ground.
Then the Earth stilled.
He lay there for a moment, hearing Thunderbird Two blast into life, glad that at least Gordon had survived the 'quake unharmed, and waited to see if the ground was about to start kicking up a fuss again.
It didn't, but despite that he knew that something wasn't right.
He could feel something pressing down on him.
Desperate to free himself from the pressure he rolled first right, then left, and right again. But nothing he did could release him from the heavy force that was pushing him into the ground.
Except that he could see that nothing was pinning him down.
He was unhurt.
Scott got to feet, certain that he knew what had been causing that unnerving sensation. Running towards the Firefly he grabbed his microphone from out of his pocket, staggering a little as he did so. "Virgil, can you hear me?"
He wasn't surprised when he received no answer.
"Virgil!"
Nothing.
The Firefly towered over him, straddling the partially filled rift in the ground; the building's roof and wall blocking its access hatches. All Scott could see of the machine was its blade, which was dug into the ground beyond the rift. Trying to slip between the hydraulic support arms to gain access to the hole that led into the building, his hood snared on a piece of metal and, irritated, he pushed it off his head. "Virgil!" he yelled, hopeful that his voice would carry into the building. "Virgil!"
When there was no response he told himself that was because neither of them could hear the other over the roar of the flames and Thunderbird Two.
That didn't stop him from trying again. "Virgil!"
This time he made contact with his brother.
Only it wasn't the brother he'd been trying to contact.
John had touched him on the shoulder. "Scott?"
Scott barely looked at him as he continued trying to worm his way through the struts. "Something's happened to Virgil!"
Pulling his elder brother out of a space that was too small for him, John looked into Scott's eyes. "What's happened to him?"
Neither sibling took any notice of Hamish Mickelson who, breathing heavily, skidded to a stop beside them.
Scott thought for the briefest of times, knowing there was only one accurate answer that he could give in reply to John's query. "I don't know."
"Have you heard from him?" John indicated the microphone. "Or…" He hesitated, unsure how to phrase his next question.
Scott nodded. "Yeah. It's happening again."
John knew exactly what his brother meant by this ambiguous reply.
Empathetic clairvoyance.
He would have preferred a more scientific explanation, but the best that anyone had come up with was that Scott and Virgil had some kind of psychic link that was awoken when one or the other was in major trouble.
As in life or death major trouble.
Irritated by the one-way lens in his hood prevented necessary eye contact, John flipped it off his head. "What do you feel has happened to Virgil?"
His brother frowned as he tried to analyse the sensations. "He's hot, of course."
John glanced towards the concrete tomb that housed a vat a red-hot molten metal.
"And he…" Scott's frown deepened. "Something… Something's pressing down on him… On the lower half of his body… and his arm." He looked at his own left hand.
"What do you mean pressing down?"
"Just that I can feel… Pressure's the only way I can describe it."
"Is it painful?"
"Yeah. But not too bad. But there was one point where I seemed to lose contact for a moment."
"Lose contact?"
"Like… I felt normal. That was nearly as bad as realising that something had happened to him." Scott looked down at the two hands that gripped his upper arms tightly. "You can let me go, John. I'm not going to make an unauthorised dash for Thunderbird One."
"Sorry." As John released his iron grip he realised that Scott seemed calmer than he had been all those years ago. "You are…" he hesitated. "More in control than last time."
"That's because this time I know what's happening to me."
John put his hand to his head, feeling the protective cap that resided there. Irritated by the sensation, he ripped it free, dropping it to the ground. "Apart from that, how are you? And I mean you, not Virgil. Are you hurt?"
"No." Scott undid the top of his fire-suit and rubbed his arm over his forehead. "What I am is hot."
A cool breeze had sprung up and John had been feeling his cheeks and scalp chill after the warmth of his cap. "No, you're not. Virgil is."
"You're right, John, he is. Roasting hot."
Hamish had listened to this exchange in mounting astonishment and then horror. Scott had told him that he only knew a fraction of what International Rescue's equipment did and it was clear that this was one ability that he'd never even dreamed of. Jeff Tracy must have allowed computer chips or some other device to be inserted into the bodies of his sons to allow them to communicate with one another. It sounded like they were able to experience what each other thought; felt; knew. Perhaps even the ability to control one another…?
Jeff Tracy had in effect made his own sons into robots!
Repulsed, Hamish literally recoiled.
Neither of his two companions saw him pale or took any notice of his backwards step.
"I'll contact base and let them know what's happening," John was saying. He did something to his watch.
But Scott shook his head. "No. I'm in charge, so I should do that."
John looked him in the eye. "I'm communications. You're operations. You do what you do best and concentrate on getting them…" he gestured with his head towards the furnace building, "out of there. I'll radio home."
-F-A-B-
Despite her promise to herself, her boss, and International Rescue, Olivia had been quietly observing what was going on. She'd heard names shouted. Names that she recognised as belonging to a group known to ACE.
That had to have been a coincidence.
Then first one, then the other of the International Rescue operatives had removed their hoods and Olivia, even from this distance, had recognised each of them.
Olivia Annan knew the identities of the men of International Rescue.
She also knew who had gone into the furnace room to rescue his friends and former workmates…
She started when she heard a noise from Thunderbird One. Whisper-quiet as it floated over the rough ground, some kind of computer pushed through the curtain that concealed the underside of the rocket and trundled past her towards to where International Rescue was working…
No, she told herself. To where the sons of Jeff Tracy were working.
Hamish turned when, with a quiet beep, Mobile Control settled close by. He saw the bewildered figure watching them from the park. "Oh, no."
Scott was already scouting around the furnace building, seeking out the best way inside and it was John who heard his quiet exclamation. "What?" His eyes followed his friend's and saw who Hamish had seen. "Oh."
"I'm sorry," Hamish apologised, as with an angry point of his finger, he instructed his PA to return to the tent. "I told her that she was to stay put."
"She's the least of our worries now." Mobile Control settled beside him and John raised the seat a fraction before sitting. "I suppose our conversation didn't make much sense," he stated as he fired up the console and checked its data in case there was something Scott could use.
"I was…" Hamish hesitated as he tried to seek out the right word. "Surprised."
"Not as surprised as we were when we found out."
"Found out?"
John glanced at his friend and saw the bemused frown. "Scott and Virgil have a kind of telepathic link between the two of them that only manifests itself when one or the other is in danger." He managed to smile. "As far as I'm aware the last time it happened was the last week that Virgil was employed here."
"Telepathy…?" This was even less believable than the idea that Jeff Tracy had permitted alien devices to be implanted into his sons.
"Yep."
"You mean ESP?"
"Yes. Once all this is over one of us will have to explain it to you in more detail, not that any of us understands it. For now…" John turned to the microphone. "Mobile Control to Thunderbird Five."
Alan's face appeared on screen. "Thunderbird Five. What's going on down there!? How's Scott?"
"He's fine."
"He's unhurt?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure? Thunderbird Two sent me through video and he didn't look in good shape."
"He's okay, Alan." John glanced over at the figure who had reappeared from the other side of the building and wondered just how true that was.
"Good…" He saw the relief on Alan's face and realised that it was going to be short lived. "You guys had me worried. No one's answering their calls."
"That's why I'm manning Mobile Control. Scott's got more important things to worry about."
"In that case you must be feeling better."
"Much." John kept his reply short and succinct. "What's Thunderbird Two doing?"
"The paint bay blew in the last aftershock. He's putting out the fire to stop it from spreading. The gas bay's still a risk."
"Okay, Alan. We'll let him concentrate on that in the short term. Tell him to call me as soon as he can."
"You? What about Scott?"
"Scott needs to be able to concentrate on getting those guys out of the furnace building…" John hesitated. He didn't want to do this. "And I need to talk to base."
"You need…?"
"Put me though, Alan. And you'd better stay on line…"
-F-A-B-
Lady Penelope enjoyed flying.
When getting around the countryside she was quite happy to accept the normal privileges accorded to someone of her position and let Parker chauffeur her in the car, but when they had to cross greater distances and FAB1 was not required she preferred to take control of her own plane.
Parker preferred it too. He'd rather remain close to Terra Firma, and if the situation arose where he was required to defy the laws of gravity, he was quite happy to allow someone take over the reins.
Now, high above the Pacific Ocean, he glanced down at the endless expanse of water. The lack of visual cues made it seem as if they had a smooth road running beneath their wheels, rather than rough water thousands of metres below them.
Her ladyship delicately flipped the switch that initiated radio contact with their destination. There was only a brief delay before her call was answered. "This is Tracy Island."
"Good day to you, Jeff. I am reporting in."
"Penny?"
"We are on our way for our debriefing."
"Debriefing." Jeff Tracy sounds chastened. "I'm sorry, Penny, I forgot you were coming today. The boys are out on a rescue."
"Oh, dear. Nothing too drastic I hope."
"Under normal circumstances I'd say nothing they couldn't handle. But this time the danger zone is at Aeronautical Component Engineering."
Lady Penelope supposed that this was supposed to mean something to her. "You must enlighten me. Aeronautical Component Engineering sounds familiar, but I am afraid that I cannot quite place it."
"It's one of my factories. Most of the staff don't know it, but they manufactured numerous components for International Rescue."
"You are concerned that someone will recognise their handiwork?"
"No. I'm concerned that someone will recognise the boys. Virgil was employed at ACE for a year before he joined International Rescue, and all three of the men they're rescuing know him and the rest of my family."
"And you have concerns that if these men realise who is behind International Rescue, then International Rescue will no longer be free to continue their work?"
"No, it's not so much that. Two of the men who are trapped are Virgil's friends; in fact, Bruce visited us here at the island for Virgil's birthday last week. And Max Watts is a loyal employee. I can't see any of them betraying us, but you know as well as I do that the more people who know our identities, the greater the likelihood that someone less well-meaning will also discover who we are. You know what that could mean to the world."
"I now understand why you were so distracted when I called you. Do you wish us to forgo our meeting? We can return to England."
"You'll do no such thing." And Lady Penelope heard the gruff affection in Jeff Tracy's voice. "If nothing else, I'll never see my favourite dessert again if Mother hears that I've turned you away."
"You've got that right, Jefferson."
Lady Penelope smiled, and Parker chuckled at the older, but still authoritative voice of Mrs Tracy.
In the background they heard another familiar sound.
"Sorry, Penny," Jeff spoke over the noise, "but duty calls. Thunderbird Five's making contact."
-F-A-B-
John still hadn't worked out how he was going to broach the subject. But then, as his father's face appeared on Mobile Control's screen, he decided that the best way was to keep it simple and stick to the facts.
Jeff's expression showed no hint of concern, in fact he appeared relieved to see who he was talking to. "How are you feeling, John?"
"I'm fine. I don't even have a headache, so I thought I'd take over communications and leave Scott free to oversee the rescue."
"Good. Anything to report?"
John didn't hesitate. "There's been another 'quake. Quite shallow by the amount of damage it's done. I'd estimate it to be about six on the Modified Mercalli Intensity Scale. It caused the paint bay to explode again, so Gordon's putting the fire out with Thunderbird Two."
"He's concerned that if it blows again it could take the gas bay with it," Alan offered.
There was a hint of a frown on their father's face. "And how are the men in the furnace building?"
Keep to the facts John reminded himself. "We lost communications with them when Virgil removed the corner of the building."
"Hasn't he reported in yet?"
Well-practised at keeping his thoughts hidden from the world, John kept his voice unemotional. "No. We've lost contact with him after the 'quake."
"I've been trying to reach him," Alan confirmed. "But his radio's dead… But then," he added helpfully, "I lost contact with Scott too and he's okay."
Now Jeff's frown was clearly defined. "You haven't heard anything?"
Wishing he had another answer, Alan shook his head. "No."
"Yes…" John amended. "But not directly." He glanced across to the couch where his grandmother was sitting; listening in silence.
"Not directly?" Jeff's eyebrows had shot up at the contradiction. "John, what do you mean by not directly?"
"I mean…" John wished there was a simple, logical, believable way of putting this. "Scott says Virgil's injured."
He would have sworn that he saw his father pale. "Scott says…?"
John nodded. "Scott says that he's feeling pressure pressing down on the lower half of his body and his left arm."
"And that that pressure has been caused by something that's happened to Virgil?"
"Yes." John saw his grandmother grasp the arm of the couch as if she were reaching out for support.
Jeff exhaled a breath to try to dispel the knot that had suddenly formed in his stomach. "Does Scott know what's causing this pressure?"
"No."
"Right…" Jeff made a conscious decision to keep focussed. "Apart from that, how is Scott?"
"He's more in control than last time. He says that's because this time he understands what's happening to him."
"Where is he?"
John glanced across to the figure who was examining the sloping roof. "He's trying to work out how we're going to get into the building."
"Why can't you continue with the original plan and use the Firefly as a bridge?"
"The 'quake caused the roof to slide off the building. The Firefly's sandwiched between it and the wall."
Alan, as shaken as his kin, but equally determined to maintain his professionalism, agreed. "Gordon sent me video as he flew overhead. I'll patch it through…" Jeff's computer beeped. "Don't worry about the person on the ground, that's Scott… uh… after the aftershock knocked him over."
Jeff directed the video to the large screen behind his desk. They looked into the interior of the building with its glowing furnace and saw the silver-suited figure writhing next to it. "Are you sure he's unhurt?"
"He told me he was," John admitted. "And I've seen nothing that makes me think he's hiding any injuries from us."
"Good." But the knot didn't lessen.
"Also…" John bit his lip. "Olivia saw us… Scott and me."
"She saw you?!"
"Yeah. Scott had removed his hood while he was trying to find a way into the Firefly and I took mine off so we could hold a proper conversation… Neither of us have put them on again."
Jeff didn't want to worry about such a triviality, but worrying about Olivia stopped him from thinking about something even more worrying. "Do you think she recognised you?"
Unsure, John glanced at the man who had been standing silently at his side. "What do you think, Uncle Hamish?"
Hamish, startled at being drawn into the conversation, hesitated. "I don't know," he admitted. "When I saw Scott on the ground I ran to help him. She probably wondered if she could help." He managed a wry smile into the camera. "I needn't have bothered. John got there before I did." The smile disappeared. "I'm sorry, Jeff, I told her to remain with the tent."
"Until today I wouldn't have had any concerns about her loyalty to us," Jeff admitted. "But after the way she's been behaving…"
"I know. It makes me wonder if she sustained a head injury during the initial earthquake."
Those in the lounge heard a familiar voice filter across the radio network. Scott was standing a couple of metres away and was speaking into his microphone. "How close are you to putting the fire out, Thunderbird Two?"
Alan opened the link so that everyone could hear Gordon's reply. "Close. I'm just dampening down a couple of hotspots."
"If there's no danger of a flare-up leave it. I want you to get that roof off the Firefly ASAP."
"F-A-B."
There was a change in the pitch and level of noise as Thunderbird turned and cruised overhead.
"Gordon doesn't know that Virgil's trapped yet," Alan admitted.
"And Scott doesn't know that Olivia's seen us." Compensating for the increased noise, John turned up the volume on Mobile Control just as another voice entered the conversation.
"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control."
"Mobile Control. Go ahead, Thunderbird Two."
"I've been pulled off the fire and Thunderbird Five told me to report into you when I'd finished there."
John gave silent thanks that his prankster brother had a serious side that made him invaluable to International Rescue. "I'm taking care of communications," he explained.
"Understood. Do you want me to lift the roof away or just tip it clear?"
John looked at Scott who'd joined them at Mobile Control to observe the operation.
"Lift it away," the latter instructed. "I don't want anything jeopardising getting in to those guys or getting them out. I'll give directions from the other side."
John nodded his understanding and Scott jogged across the compound.
"Do you need my help?" Hamish asked.
"No. We can handle it."
"In that case…" Hamish looked up at the green bulk of Thunderbird Two that was manoeuvring into position and John saw a hint of regret. "I'll go and make sure Olivia doesn't see anything else she shouldn't."
John gave him a grateful nod. "Thanks." He turned back to the microphone. "Lift it clear, Gordon. Scott and I will talk you in."
"F-A-B… I can see right into the building from here, but I can't make out anything other than the glow from that furnace. I'd hate to be trapped in there."
John removed a portable microphone from Mobile Control and moved to a better vantage point so that he could direct his side of the operation. He switched the microphone to two-way communication. "Gordon…"
Gordon sounded bemused by his brother's lack of protocol. "Yes, John?"
"We've lost contact with Virgil and the Firefly."
"Virgil probably dropped his mic after that last 'quake and hasn't had time to report in."
John wished it was that easy. "I don't think that's it. We know that something's happened to Virgil."
Bemusement was replaced by alarm. "Something's happened!? What do you mean!?"
"Since that last 'quake, Scott's been feeling that something's wrong."
"Feeling?! You mean that empathetic clairvoyance thing?"
"Yes."
"What's he feeling?"
"Pressure on his lower body and arm."
"Anything else?"
"Heat."
"That's logical… Well, as logical as ESP can be. Anything else I need to know?"
"Olivia's seen us, so we've given up on secrecy protocols."
"At least that means that we can work freely. No more Hoods." Gordon had an idea. "Want me to broadcast a message through the loudspeakers? Let them know we're okay and we're working on getting them out?"
John kicked himself for not thinking of such a basic communications suggestion. "Good idea."
The next time he heard his brother's voice it was coming from overhead and at such a volume that Scott, watching Thunderbird Two move into position, visibly flinched. "This is International Rescue. We will have you out of there in no time."
Scott sprinted across to John. "Tell Gordon not to do that again!"
Alarmed by the almost panicked expression in his brother's face, John obeyed without question. "Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two. All future communications are to be made over the radio network, not loud speakers."
Gordon was confused by the instruction. Nonetheless he intended to obey it. "F-A-B. Does that mean you've contacted them?"
"Negative." John raised a querying eyebrow at Scott who triggered his own microphone.
"Virgil's got a headache," the latter explained, "probably caused by dehydration, and the volume of your broadcast felt like he was being stabbed in the head."
"Understood," Gordon sounded chastened. "I didn't think of that… If Virgil's got a headache after half an hour, I hate to think what the others must be feel…"
"Guys!" Gordon's words were forgotten when he was interrupted by an excited Alan. "I'm getting a message from the Firefly!"
2:37 p.m.
To be continued…
