By six p.m., Jeff Tracy could wait no longer. John was an early riser and, after a long day of travelling or not, he should have called in by now.

His son's cell rang and rang. No answer. He tried the International Rescue frequency. Nothing. It didn't even click to a blank screen. The device must have been turned off - something that none of the boys would ever do.

"Something's not right here," he said.

Scott was standing by the desk with his arms crossed, his face marred by a deep frown.

"Right, Dad," he said. "It's not like John to stay out of contact."

Concern gnawed at Jeff's mind and he tried again to make contact. The ring went on and on.

No response.

It really wasn't like John to stay out of contact. His elder blond was many things: quiet, even shy at times; materialistic, placing technology on the same level as human lives; solitary, even preferring solo pursuits when back on Earth. John looked at life through a slightly different lens than his brothers. Perhaps he didn't have the self-assurance of Gordon or the red, white and blue bravery of Scott, but he wasn't a coward. And he was certainly not forgetful. He had never been forgetful. This whole situation feels very wrong.

So he decided to switch tactics.

"Thunderbird Five from Base. Come in, Alan."

It took a moment before he appeared, clipboard in hand.

"Father, what's wrong?"

"Plenty, Alan," Jeff said. "Your brother still hasn't checked in from England. Have you heard from him?"

Alan frowned.

"No, Father. I haven't heard anything. I assumed he would call you guys down there."

Jeff shook his head. The muscles of Scott's jaw clenched.

"Can you check to see if his emergency signal is transmitting, Alan?" he asked.

The youngest Tracy turned away for a moment as he did just that.

"It's not, Scott," he said. "There's nothing to indicate he's in any danger."

"And yet we haven't heard from him," Jeff said. "Alan, keep an ear out for your brother, just in case something has happened. Check police frequencies in the area between London and Cambridge."

"F.A.B., Father," Alan said. He paused before he terminated the line. "I'm sure he's just fine. There's probably a good explanation for all this."

Jeff nodded, acknowledging his youngest's efforts to provide comfort, although it didn't do much to ease his troubled mind. He turned to Scott; those jaw muscles were taut again.

"Maybe I should fly out there, Father," he said. "At top speed, I can be over England within the hour."

"No, son," Jeff said. "I need you here in case there's an emergency call. However, I do think it's time to call for some help." He opened a new call frequency. "International Rescue England from Headquarters..."

~oOo~

Lady Penelope was already sitting up in bed when the call from International Rescue came through. She glanced at the antique clock on her nightstand. A quarter past six. I do hope nothing is wrong. She reached across to pluck up her compact mirror-come-communicator and gently lifted it open.

"International Rescue England, Lady Penelope speaking. How may I help you, Jeff?"

Penelope's heart sank when she saw the drawn look on her old friend's face.

"I think we may have a problem, Penny," he said. "John still hasn't checked in after his trip to Cambridge and I'm starting to get concerned."

"Oh dear. That is most distressing," Penelope said. "I do wish he had let me pick him up from Heathrow in the Rolls."

"Believe me, Penny, so do I. I don't know what's happened, but I do know that something is amiss. Will you look into this for me?" Jeff asked.

"Of course," Penelope answered. "Leave it in my capable hands. I'm sure there is a perfectly rational explanation for all of this," she said.

There was silence on the line. Penelope's chest tightened at the brief flash of sorrow that rolled over Jeff's face.

"I know, Penny," Jeff said. "But I can't shake the feeling that it's not as simple as that. Alan will fill you in on John's likely route." He gave her a nod. "Keep in touch."

"Will do."

His face disappeared and Penelope gently closed the compact again. Then she reached for the mansion's internal intercom.

"Parker, get the Rolls," she said. "We need to take a little trip."

Within twenty minutes, they were on the road, Parker pushing the pink Rolls Royce up to the speed limit and perhaps a little beyond. When Penelope had filled him in on the details, Parker's carefully constructed mask of dignified servitude had slipped. His eyes had widened ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth had twitched. Through their years with International Rescue, both she and her faithful butler had become more than just fond of the Tracy family.

"H'ai do 'ope that nothing 'as 'appened," he said as they glided through the frosty Gloucestershire countryside.

"So do I, Parker. We shall travel to Heathrow first and track his route towards Cambridge. I shall start making enquiries with the various police constituencies he would have travelled through." She glanced at her watch. "It is a little early yet, however." She looked out the window, her breath ghosting on the cold glass. "I do wish the situation had not been so urgent and we had had time for breakfast."

"H'ai 'ad anticipated that, Milady," Parker said. "If you look in the foot well to your right, you will see h'ai 'ave packed you a small repast."

Smiling fondly, Penelope reached down and plucked up the small box. Inside was a flask of hot cocoa and one of her cook, Lilian's, fresh baked croissants.

"Parker, what would I do without you?"

In the rear view mirror, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle into a smile.

~oOo~

When the front door slammed, John tried again to wrench his hand free from its bindings.

"God dammit," he snarled. "She's gone. It's the perfect opportunity to get out of here. And I'm stuck to this bed!"

He didn't hear the car start but he did hear it pull away, gravel crunching under its tyres. John pulled again; it felt like his wrist was being bitten to the bone. He stood and tried to wrench the whole bedstead, hoping he could at least make his way to the window to see where he was. But it was wrought iron and stubborn, remaining firmly in place.

Feeling panic rise like bile, he sat back down and took a few deep breaths.

"Okay, let's think about this. Where are you? No idea. Why are you here? No idea. Any way to get out? Not that I can see." He let out a string of expletives and slammed his bare feet on the rough floorboards. "Dad's probably going out of his mind - with either anger or worry. I just wish I could contact them. I wish I had my communicator watch!"

He stared down at his bare, bleeding wrist. The watch that served as his lifeline to Tracy Island and the organisation was gone.

"I don't remember losing it," he said. "I put it back on after airport security in Sydney so I definitely had it with me. Dammit!" A thought struck him and a new wave of panic rose. "What if she has the watch? What if a call comes through from Dad or Alan and she sees it? Not good!" Then he laughed. It was a high, strangled sound. "That's not the only thing that isn't good. Stuck in a house with a madwoman is not good. Being chained to a bed in the house of a madwoman is definitely not good. I don't even want to think about the implications of that."

Determination flared anew in him. As the sun rose, light was filtering in through the small window and he leaned in to look at the handcuffs again.

"Those are no toys," he said, "and lock-picking isn't really my expertise. Well, maybe it's time for some on the job training."

Exactly how he would achieve that, he had no idea, but he knew he had to try.

~oOo~

"Thank you so much for your time, detective," Penelope said to the little face in her compact. "And once again, I do apologise for having to contact you at such an early hour."

"Any time, your ladyship," the woman said. "My team will keep you informed if anything comes up."

The image of the detective sergeant clicked off and Penelope closed the compact. She pressed it tight against the palm of her hand.

"Another dead end," she said. "How tiresome."

"Yus, Milady," Parker said. "We h'are just about to cross into the jurisdiction of the Essex Police now. Perhaps they will have some news."

Penelope tapped her chin with the compact and shook her head.

"Perhaps, Parker. I shall make a few enquiries. From what I understand, the car John was driving was most unusual. It should not be too difficult to track it." She flicked open the compact again. "I believe I shall call in a little favour."

Penelope waited for her transmission to go through and smiled graciously at the dishevelled face that appeared.

"Campton," he said gruffly. The man blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. "Lady Penelope, is that you?"

"Yes, Detective Inspector. It is I."

"Why, I haven't heard from you since you helped us crack the Snakebite smuggling ring four years ago."

"Four years?" Penelope shook her head. "It doesn't seem that long ago. Well, Detective Inspector Campton, at the time you did say that if ever I needed any help, you would be most obliging. I hope there is no time limit on that offer."

Campton shook his head.

"Of course not," he said. "How can I help?"

"A good friend of mine was travelling from Australia to Cambridge, and on the way from Heathrow he seems to have disappeared. He hasn't contacted his family and they can't get through to him. Could you do some checking for me? I would be most appreciative."

Campton's face had become more serious with every word.

"Give me all the information you can, Lady Penelope," he said. "I'll see what I can do."

~oOo~

Jeff had tried calling the porter's office at Darwin College ten times over but there had been no response. He glanced at his watch. Seven thirty p.m. on the island meant seven thirty a.m. there. If only he could get through, could have someone confirm that John had arrived safely. The worry would be over. But he couldn't, and it wasn't, and he felt entirely hopeless.

Slamming his hands down onto the desk, Jeff growled.

"I should have been firmer with him," he said. "I should have made him get the train."

"Oh, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think you could have stopped him."

Jeff's tone softened and he brought a hand up to pat Tin-Tin's own.

"I know, I know. My sons aren't children any more. They're young men, though I still feel responsible for their safety."

"Of course you do," Tin-Tin said. "We're all worried. But I know John. Even if he is in some kind of trouble, he'll be doing his best to get out of it and to make contact."

"I know. I-"

At that moment, the eyes of Alan's portrait began to blink. Jeff's hand was on the call button straight away. It could be news!

"Go ahead, Alan," he said.

"Father, there's been an incident at a nuclear facility in Japan," Alan said. His voice lacked the usual enthusiasm it held when a rescue call came through. "They're requesting assistance."

"F.A.B.," Jeff said.

His heart felt like stone as the crew assembled. Each one had a face that was distorted with worry.

"There's been no news on John as yet," Jeff said, "but we still have a job to do. There's a situation in Japan and International Rescue is needed. So we're going to do what we need to do."

As he sent his sons off on another mission, leaving the new recruits behind, reality struck like an arrow to the heart. As always, there was a possibility that one of them wouldn't make it back. He leaned back in his chair. They had accepted that possibility. He had accepted that possibility.

His eyes were drawn to the portrait to the left, his elder blond, blue eyes sparkling, resplendent in the uniform he had been so proud to accept.

There was a possibility he was never coming back.

Jeff cast aside that thought. No, he told himself. What's our motto? Never give up at any cost. I won't give up, and neither will my son.