In Too Deep – Chapter Eleven
Deep down inside Virgil knew the weightless sensation he found himself experiencing was too good to be true. It was only once he'd realised how soothing the feeling of warm comfort was that it struck him he probably shouldn't feel like that. Especially given the last thing he remembered was cold concrete mere millimetres from his nose, but then Brains and Scott had been there, right?
It had started with the thought that maybe this floating sensation wasn't entirely normal and from that moment feeling spread back into his body far too quickly. As the pain returned, he remembered why he'd allowed unconsciousness to claim him in the first place and craved that detached feeling again. Closing his eyes tighter, he hoped for the darkness to reclaim him. Instead, he was kept in the present by a groaning that seemed to surround him. It wasn't until he tried to open his mouth to rebuke the source of the constant noise that he realised it was him.
He blinked his eyes open, frowning at what he thought was a chair leg a few feet away. His vision wasn't clear enough to see properly and the more he tried to focus, the more his eyes streamed. Blinking furiously, he brought a hand up to rub the moisture away. It was as if he'd just moved from the darkest room in the world into direct sunlight.
He felt his fingers rubbing at his eyes and realised how cool his hands were. He knew that couldn't be a good sign.
Trying not to think about that or the other injuries that were becoming apparent as consciousness returned at a somewhat unhurried pace, Virgil turned to his surroundings. His vision was improving a little, but he was impatient and attempted to sit up. He was quite successful too, until the wave of dizziness struck. The room spun and Virgil concluded that he had, in fact, been laid on his side in something reminiscent of the recovery position.
Grunting back an expletive as the dizziness and pain amalgamated into just plain agony, he tried to stay in what he thought was an upright position.
"Hey, take it easy," the voice penetrated his dazed consciousness only seconds before he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, guiding him back to the floor.
Now even more confused, Virgil tried to focus on the dark blobs of colour. Flashes of memories came forward but he could only grasp the very fringes and confusion reigned supreme. Scott and Brains had been here, he found himself thinking, did that mean he was safe? The dark blobs of colour were interlaced with spots of fawny colours that resembled someone's face. Lacking any trace of the blue that would indicate Brains' signatory spectacles, that left only one other person to Virgil's memory.
"Scott?" he was surprised how rough his voice sounded and how dry his mouth was. Trying to swallow in order to soothe it was a big mistake. His throat muscles contorted and he began to cough, only succeeding in making things worse. He recognised the vile taste in his mouth as one he'd encountered many times before, usually caused by the remnants of smoke in his nostrils and throat, after he'd been dealing with various burning materials.
"Virgil?" the voice seemed familiar but it was all wrong. Wrong pitch, wrong tone, even the wrong accent. "It's me. It's Luke. Do you remember what happened?"
Opening his eyes, Virgil found his vision had improved again. It had recovered enough, at least, for him to make out the face in front of him now. And, much to his disappointment, it wasn't Scott. The concern in Luke's eyes though, was not dissimilar to the concern Virgil imagined Scott would have been demonstrating at this point, had he been there.
"Luke," Virgil muttered, piecing his memories together little by little. "Luke," he said again, "yeah, I remember. Jet," he managed to push past his dry lips. What he wouldn't have done in that moment for some water, "crashed… exploded."
Where he sat on the floor, Luke began to nod but still his brow creased with a frown of concern. "Yeah, that's right. I think maybe I pushed you to the ground a little too hard, you hit your head."
Virgil was too busy trying to take in his newly returned ability to focus on the objects around him to listen and frowned across at his companion. "Where are we?" he asked.
They were in a small room that looked like it had once been an office. A wooden desk and an old wooden chair remained in the centre and metal, important looking, filing cabinets stood against the walls in no particular pattern. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs and just breathing it in aggravated Virgil's flagging efforts to breathe. It seemed that Luke was having the same problem and let out a hacking cough of his own, before he continued. "The control tower, I think," his brow furrowed a little, "the building nearest to the runway, anyway."
As Virgil's eyes became accustomed to the level of light in the room, he realised that it wasn't as bright as he had first thought. In fact, the room was dull. Heavy curtains hung from the windows, blocking almost all of the light out. The only exception was the window nearest the door where the curtain rail had come away from the window allowing the thick material to droop down and sunlight to prevail. The way the sunbeams filtered through, picking out the particles of dust that hung in the air, made it impossible to hazard a guess at what time of day it was. Virgil could only draw comfort from the fact that there was daylight outside at all.
"How did we get here?" he heard himself ask, his voice still catching in his throat and making him sound like he had a sixty-a-day habit.
Luke shrugged from above him, "Well, I suppose technically speaking you could add trespassing onto my criminal record," the briefest of smiles tugged his lips into formation. "It wasn't very well boarded up and it seemed the safest option."
"But the last thing I remember," Virgil cleared his throat again, "is passing out by the jet. You carried me here?"
"Carried?" Luke laughed, loud enough that the sound hurt Virgil's head, he took the volume down a notch when he saw Virgil wince. "Sorry to disappoint but I'm not the Incredible Hulk, I think dragged would be a better description."
Virgil tried to work out if that was amusement or sarcasm in his companion's tone but didn't reach a conclusion, his capacity to think was still greatly impaired. "Are you okay?" Virgil gestured to where Luke sat beside him, massaging his shoulder.
Luke stretched and rotated his neck, eliciting a few ominous cracks. "Fine," he sighed. "Think I might've pulled something, I'm more worried about you. You started to come round once we got inside but then you passed out." He turned away and Virgil watched as he pulled a green plastic box across the room towards them. There was a scraping sound as it slid across the floor, collecting the dust with it and leaving behind the true colour of the varnished wood. "You're bleeding again," Luke gestured to the bandages around Virgil's wrists, which were now soaked through with blood. Virgil could feel the dressing across his neck was in pretty much the same state. "Most of the other rooms are locked but I found this in the corridor," he coughed as he opened the lid of the box, only to be greeted by a cloud of dust. "I don't know if there's anything we can use…" he muttered as he began rummaging around.
Virgil allowed his eyes to slip closed, still piecing memories together. His head was pounding and even where he wasn't cut and bruised, he was sore. Then suddenly, it hit him that there was still someone unaccounted for. His eyes snapped open, "Billy?" he asked, not needing to expand further.
Luke offered him a sad shake of the head, "He was too close to the jet when it exploded. He's dead."
Virgil frowned, "He was right behind us," he muttered. He didn't even register that Luke had taken his wrist and was adding more bandages to the accumulation already there. His mind raced, trying to think of something to say to hide his relief. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, disgusted at just how thankful he felt that Billy wasn't there to sway Luke's judgement anymore. It was a strange feeling as the tension evaporated from his shoulders but he was disturbed to discover that he couldn't drum up an ounce of compassion for the dead criminal. And that wasn't the kind of man Virgil Tracy was.
"Don't be," Luke shrugged turning his attention to Virgil's other wrist, "I'm not. Now, hold still."
Virgil didn't need telling twice and settled back down, allowing his eyes to slip shut once more. The headache and his sluggish thinking bore all the signs of a concussion and though he hated to admit it, he had to concentrate just to remember things. He started to question himself, things he should know: who was the President? What year was it? When was his birthday? The fact that he had to think before answering had him a little worried. He was so deep in thought that his intuitive reaction when he felt Luke's hand on his chin was to move away with a sharp, defensive jolt. "Sorry," he apologised, "it's sore, that's all." Virgil offered the lie with a shaky smile and hoped Luke would believe that it was the pain he was avoiding and not his touch.
"We need to get in contact with Thunderbird Five," Virgil muttered, more to himself than Luke. Thinking aloud was the only way he could concentrate without getting distracted by the fatigue his body was forcing on him. "This is a control tower, right?" he didn't wait for an answer. "There must be a…" he stopped to ride out the pain emanating from his neck, Luke offered him an apologetic smile, "…a radio in here somewhere," Virgil finished.
Luke sat back and shook his head, rummaging in the green box, "I checked all the other rooms, they're locked. I suppose I could look upstairs." He turned his attention back to Virgil's neck.
Virgil nodded, hampered by Luke's hands, "Yeah, we need to get in touch with John. He can get us help."
"Who's John?" Luke asked.
"John's my bro…" Virgil stopped himself before he said too much. The feeling of Luke's careworn hands round his neck triggered memories Virgil wasn't enthusiastic to revisit. It took so much effort to ignore the rising apprehension that the words very nearly slipped out unchecked. He froze, unsure whether Luke had realised his mistake.
"Brother?" Luke sat back, looking Virgil in the eye. When Virgil made no effort to reply, Luke let out a deep breath, "Look Virgil, I'm trusting you; you said you could help me and I believed you. But it works both ways and you have to trust me too." He paused and shook his head, throwing down part of the bandage he'd been using. "If you don't trust me then we're better off going our separate ways now, before things get too complicated."
The air between them had been so relaxed earlier that the sudden change in Luke's tone of voice was a surprise. "I'm sorry," Virgil attempted to swallow again. He doubted Luke had really considered what he was saying. Neither of them had a chance on their own but even so, Luke raised a valid point. "I'm sorry," Virgil repeated, not knowing what else to say but at the same time, feeling it was inadequate.
The deep scowl on Luke's features making no indication it was about to lift, told Virgil he'd have to do better than that. "What's the big secret? And who the hell do you think I'm going to tell anyway? Hmm?" Virgil winced at the tone of Luke's voice. He was obviously cross and Virgil couldn't blame him but he didn't have the energy to interrupt the tirade. "The Government? MI-bloody-Five? Would that be before or after they arrest me and lock me up? I'm putting everything on the line here! If they catch me now, I'm going back to that hell hole for a long time." Luke paused to shake his head. "I couldn't handle that. I just couldn't."
"I said I'm sorry," Virgil tried to remain calm but it was becoming more and more obvious that Luke wasn't as relaxed as he came across. In fact, the way he spoke bordered on ranting and it reminded Virgil of something he saw a lot of in his field of work; fear. "Luke," he sighed and a cough trembled through his chest, "I know you're scared."
"I'm not scared!" Luke rebuffed, "I'm just… I … I need to know I'm doing the right thing."
Virgil empathised with him but he also knew that Luke still played a pivotal role in his chances of survival. More than that, Virgil was acutely aware that had it not been for Luke's actions in the jet, he would have been right at the centre of that fireball. He owed his life to the fearful man sat beside him. "You are doing the right thing," Virgil told him. "Luke, you saved my life and you got me to safety. I said I'll do everything I can to help you and I will, but we have to work together."
Luke swallowed and seemed to calm down a little. "I can't go back to that place, Virgil," his tone was low, haunted by the same horror that was reflected in his eyes, "I just can't. Not after coming this far, being so close."
"I know and you won't have to, we'll help you. I promise you but you've just got to trust me," Virgil recoiled at the words and then amended them to, "we have to trust each other."
"So," Luke nodded but still seemed uncertain as he raised his gaze to meet Virgil's, "John's your brother? What's the big deal about that? You already told me about your brother."
Even though Virgil wanted to answer, he still found himself hesitating. There was a little voice in the back of his head, embedded into his mind when International Rescue had begun, and right now, it was reminding him how heavy the burden of secrecy could be. Equally, he knew that he couldn't expect Luke to trust him if he didn't show his own trust. "Yes, John's my brother," he said in reply, slowly nodding his head. Even though he trusted Luke, it felt so wrong to admit it aloud but he closed his eyes and went on, "He's also International Rescue's space monitor."
Luke took in a deep breath, despite the few moments he needed to take in the revelation, he felt like they'd made progress, "Wow, talk about keeping it in the family." Virgil could feel himself reddening at the comment, wondering if Luke had any idea of the real truth. "Okay, so John's our man. How do we get in contact with him?"
"The same way you did before," Virgil replied. He watched Luke's reaction carefully but the abscondee seemed to be taking it all in his stride. "It was you who called us, wasn't it?"
Luke nodded, sitting back and allowing the green box to fall shut producing another cloud of dust. "Well, if it had been up to Hunt or Foster, they'd have just left us down there to die."
"The scientist seemed very concerned about you, so I'm told," Virgil frowned, wondering if his distorted thinking was responsible for him not recognising the other name. "Foster? Who's Foster?"
Luke shook his head and pulled himself to his feet with a sigh, "Good question. We think Foster's just an alias. Look, it's a long story. I think we should get some help first." He gestured to the door, "I'll take a look upstairs, if I find a radio, what should I say?"
As Luke began to move, Virgil tried to push himself up. "I'll come with you," he breathed out, attempting to disregard the pain movement was causing. "Help me up," he held a hand out to Luke, palm to one side, waiting for his companion to help him to his feet.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Luke frowned. Realising that Virgil was going to struggle to his feet, with or without the help, he begrudgingly held a steadying arm out. Virgil grasped it and allowed himself to lean on the proffered support, surprised that his legs didn't feel his own. "Look, you can hardly stand up. I'll go and look for a radio, you sit here. You'll never make it up the stairs anyway."
"I'm fine," Virgil replied in an attempt to dismiss Luke's concern. However, the shake of the head that he accompanied the comment was too much for him and the room began to spin out of control. Virgil closed his eyes against the blurring of dowdy colours and felt himself begin to fall. He grunted as he felt arms tightening round his chest on bruises that had already started to colour.
"Whoa!" Luke's attempts to stop Virgil falling very nearly caused them both to topple over, "Virgil…"
"Just give me a minute," Virgil spoke over him, half hoping he'd shut up, his voice seemed so loud. "I'll be okay."
"No, you won't," Luke's tone was firm, as if he were chastising a naughty child, and Virgil felt embarrassed that he was so weak. "You're going to sit here and wait," Luke instructed, taking control and making Virgil feel even worse. As far as he was concerned it was humiliating to be so reliant on someone in this kind of situation. Half of him was too exhausted to attempt the climb up the stairs but the other, more defiant half told him that he was International Rescue and he should never give up. Sitting by and letting Luke do all the work certainly felt like giving up. Luke hadn't noticed the awkwardness Virgil felt and went on, "I'm not surprised those wounds haven't stopped bleeding, the way you've been going on. You need to stay still."
"Luke…" Virgil tried to argue, but he found himself blinking in an effort to focus. Perhaps the concussion was worse than he'd first thought. How many times had he banged his head? Was that the cause of the loss of consciousness or had he just passed out?
"No arguments!" Luke smiled, "Escaping the jet will have opened them up and I don't want you bleeding to death before I've been reunited with my family."
Virgil wasn't sure if that was supposed to reassure him or not. If Luke's desire to help him survive was born only through some kind of selfish preservation instinct, then where exactly did that leave him? And what happened to the trust they'd just placed in each other?
"I'm joking," Luke's tone was a little troubled and Virgil realised it was probably at the fact that he'd had to add that comment. "Trust, remember?"
Virgil nodded, "Trust." He let out a deep breath and sat back, resting his head on the desk Luke had propped him up against. "Tell John where we are and that I'm okay but we need help," his eyes blinked closed of their own accord. "He'll tell you what to do."
Luke frowned in concentration as he memorised the instructions. "You've gone really pale, are you going to be alright?" There was concern in his voice that Virgil thought was genuine. But then again, his head was still pounding and the queasiness he felt didn't make for sound judgement.
"I'll be fine," he managed to cough out.
As Luke nodded his head and offered a promise that he wouldn't be too long, Virgil found himself wondering if perhaps he'd said too much. Though a certain amount of the tension between them had evaporated, there was still a degree of apprehension. After all, they only had each other's word to rely on. What if Luke wasn't who he said he was? No, Virgil dismissed that thought quickly. The way Luke had spoken about his family and the depth of emotion in his eyes couldn't have been forged. No, he told himself, he trusted Luke and he was sure that his trust wasn't misplaced. His only hope now was that Luke trusted him as much he trusted Luke.
XxxxX
Back on Tracy Island, silence reigned amongst the family members listening to the recording. Tin-Tin's eyes found Alan's and they held their own private conversation, exchanging anxieties and some much needed support. Gordon found himself struggling to keep Thunderbird Two steady as she hovered high over England and reached for the autopilot settings in order to give Brains' findings one hundred percent of his attention. And John's gaze found his father's, concerned at just what it was Brains had discovered.
The recording continued.
"Mike India Romeo HQ, this is Agent Four-Four Foxtrot Lima receiving, go ahead, Ma'am," the responding voice was gruff but held an element of alarm. Whether it stemmed from fear of the superior voice or fear of the situation, no one was sure.
"I know that voice!" John muttered, shocked at the familiarity but unable to place it.
"Hush, John!" Jeff reprimanded him as he strained in his chair to hear.
"Four, where the devil have you been? I've been trying to contact you for over two hours!" the first caller, HQ, exclaimed under the guise of an artificial voice. "What on earth is going on?"
"Ma'am," Four responded, remorse in his tone, "we've had an incident, an explosion at the centre. All personnel were evacuated, however, three prisoners managed to abscond. I've activated their remote beacons and am in the process of recapturing them. I've also taken the liberty of deploying the self destruct protocol at the base. There's nothing left there now and no chance of any further repercussions. It's all under control." Judging by the tremor in the Englishman's voice, it didn't sound like he was at all confident in that. Either that or he was afraid of how his superior would respond. High up on Thunderbird Five, John was piecing together the implications of a self-destruct protocol and feeling strangely relieved that he might not have missed any prior signs of an explosion earlier.
"Under control?" HQ replied in a way that suggested there were elements of anger and disbelief in the computerised response. "Under control!" the mundane voice repeated. "If it's as under control as you claim, then why the hell have I just had to put the dampeners on a police investigation into International Rescue, of all people! And, whilst we're at it, perhaps you can explain why one of the scientists in your charge has a bullet in his chest, hmm?"
"Ma'am," there was an audible gulp on the line. "Dr Hunt was left to see that the three absentees returned to the hospital in Kent. I can only assume he was injured as the prisoners made their escape. I heard nothing from him except a brief call to say that everything was under control. I was very busy at the time."
"Cook said he made a call when they were hiding in the tent. That must have been right before he was shot!" Alan exclaimed, putting the puzzle together as the pieces materialised. Like John had been before him, he was silenced by his father as attention in the room focussed on the recording.
"Where are you now, Four?" HQ sounded brusque and powerful. Displeasure at the events was obvious even in the simulated, cold tones of a machine.
"I've tracked them to Yorkshire, an old RAF base at Ferryhill so I'm heading there now, Ma'am. I'm holding back police presence and emergency personnel for now, I'm unaware of the specifics but that's definitely where both the signals are coming from. The third never materialised, I assume he perished in the self destruct explosion at the centre." Four didn't seem to lose any of the anxiety in his tone but neither did he seem upset at the assumed death. He continued, quiet and uncertain, "I can still recapture the experiments, Ma'am," there was an element of pleading in his voice that didn't go unnoticed, "I understand that they're too valuable to lose."
"Losing the experiments will be the last of our problems if anyone else were to find out. Now, please tell me International Rescue aren't involved in this debacle," the false tone of voice dared her colleague to tell her otherwise. HQ seemed to wield command with a ruthlessness that made John wonder what would happen when Four told the truth about their involvement.
"The prisoners called them out, Ma'am, whilst they were trapped underground. We had no idea International Rescue were on their way until they contacted us," Four responded, quick to deny his part in it. "As far as I'm aware, they're not on the scene any longer. When I activated the tracking systems the two signals were coming from Ferryhill and I assume they're alone."
"Well, how the devil did they get to Ferryhill so quickly?" HQ demanded an answer.
"Well, Ma'am, I had business to attend to in Kent. I left Dr Hunt in command and it was only when he didn't call back that I realised what had happened," Four seemed reluctant to admit the sequence of events and given HQ's apparent power, it wasn't surprising. Jeff frowned, piecing together the events with slow precision. John, meanwhile, desperately tried to place Four's voice.
"Damn it, Four! It's your job to know, to be on top of situations like this!" HQ was irate now, in the background there was the sound of a fist impacting against wood but it was distorted by the way the sounds had been warped. Alan and Gordon turned to look at each other, exchanging a worried expression. "What exactly do International Rescue know?."
"They know nothing, Ma'am," Four denied within seconds of the question being asked. "As far as they were aware the prisoners were scientists. They had no reason to suspect any different, I'm sure of it."
"Good, good, you'd better be damned sure." HQ responded, "But how did they come to drop Hunt off at the Hospital?"
"Well, Ma'am, they believed the prisoners were scientists, and I'm certain they're no longer on the scene…" Four replied, unease in his tone. "Besides that Ma'am, these prisoners are dangerous men and we don't know what they told International Rescue. The subjects must've convinced International Rescue that Hunt had been injured legitimately, otherwise they'd have called the police in and I have no record of that." His tone became convincing, "They can be very persuasive when they want to be."
"Hmm," HQ growl came through in a distorted pitch, "That's what's worrying me. The last thing we need is more complications. The hospital called the police in but I've sent a few of our boys down there to handle it. Now, listen to me, Four, it is essential that all loose ends are tied up, whatever their affiliation with other organisations. Do we understand each other?" HQ's processed tone was cold and harsh. There wasn't an ounce of compassion for any innocent bystanders caught up in the affair.
"I understand, Ma'am," Four replied again. "Absolutely no loose ends. Two-One can never know."
"You're damned right Two-One can never know! Neither can the Cabinet or Welsh Parliament!" HQ responded. "Now, Four, I want you to clear up this shambles and then I don't want to hear from you again."
"Yes, Ma'am," Four responded, his tone contrite. "I'll recapture the two outstanding experiments and head back to Kent, and then I'll tie up any loose ends from there."
HQ's artificial voice was still commanding. "I think you've done quite enough," it snapped. "I'll make the necessary arrangements for Hunt and the situation in Kent, in the meantime I want you to clear this damned disgrace of a mess up. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Ma'am," came the predictable response.
"There's too much on the line here. If anyone else found out about our venture the consequences would be disastrous. Your mission is no longer seek and recapture, it is destroy. Do you copy?" HQ ordered.
"Yes, Ma'am," Four responded, obedient and eager to make amends for his previous discrepancies. "Understood; the focus of the mission is now to terminate."
"Terminate," was HQ's final responded.
"Very Good, Ma'am, Four-Four Foxtrot Lima, out." The recording ended as abruptly as it had begun and left a stunned silence in its wake.
Tin-Tin reached forward to attend to the computer as the radio static returned. She silenced it with the ease of familiarity and turned back to the tense quiet in the room. Seconds passed and still no-one spoke as the gravity of the conversation began to sink in.
Jeff was the first to recover and swiped a hand over his forehead, letting out a sigh, "How long ago was this, Brains?"
"Umm…" Brains looked to Tin-Tin, who was reddening.
Glancing at her watch she stepped forward, "About twenty minutes ago, Mr Tracy," she gulped, hoping he wouldn't connect her to the incident as her eyes darted to meet Alan's.
"Okay, so we know that this spy, Four, or whoever he is…" Jeff whipped a hand through the air in dismissal, "is now on the criminals' trail." He tried to clarify their position in his own mind. "And there's a strong possibility that Virgil's ETD could be over-riding the third signal, but if that's the case, then we don't know where Virgil is."
"So," Gordon took up his train of thought, "for all we know this Four person could be heading to where the signals are coming from…. Ferryhill. Presuming Virgil is there with them, and not at the airport, he could be in danger." He felt the atmosphere become heavy at his suggestion. "You all heard what that guy said, he's going to destroy these prisoners and if he finds Virgil with them, I don't think he'll have any doubts about killing Virgil too."
"You're right, Gordon," Jeff nodded, his frown cementing into a deep scowl of anxiety. "Virgil has to be with them, otherwise he would have made contact somehow. It's even more important now that we get to him, and quickly." He looked around the room at the faces reflecting all his anxieties, "John, we need to contact Scott and warn him about this guy. We don't know what kind of time-frame he's working to. This recording was tapped twenty minutes ago, but we don't know how far off Ferryhill he was when it was made. If this Four guy gets there, I don't think he'll think twice about taking action."
John nodded, "I'll get right on it but Scott's already inside the airport with Penelope." He paused, "Y'know we could be blowing this all out of proportion. With a bit of luck Scott's with Virgil now at the airport."
"Come on, John," Alan countered, "you can't believe that. Why would they need truth serum? And why hasn't Scott contacted us to tell us that?" he grumbled.
Jeff heaved a sigh but nodded, "Alan's right, but we have to cover every angle and that includes the possibility of Virgil not being at the crash site."
"But, Father, if he's not at the crash site and he's not at the airport then he could be anywhere!" Gordon cried out in despair.
"No," Jeff shook his head. "He has to still be with at least one of criminals, either at the airport or at the crash site."
"Unless he's escaped, Dad," John put in, raising the idea. "If he had the opportunity, he'd take it, I know he would."
"But he's injured," Jeff's frown deepened further and he took a few moments to try to think clearly. "Besides, even if he did escape, the first thing he'd do is contact us somehow." Taking his glasses off and rubbing his fingers across his lips in a thoughtful gesture, Jeff tried to take a bit of control back from the chaos he felt encircled them. "Alright, let's be logical. Do we know how these tracking devices work, Brains? Was there any other information?"
He turned his attention to Brains and Tin-Tin who were stood together in shifty silence. It was obvious to him from the guilty expression on Tin-Tin's face and the way Brains fumbled that they both felt incredibly uncomfortable. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together, Jeff knew that computer hacking, whilst being within Brains' power, was not something that the engineer would even entertain on moral grounds. Any other situation and he would have assumed Tin-Tin's principles would prevail too, but knowing that the young assistant engineer had a close relationship with all his sons, he couldn't be sure she was innocent.
A glance at Alan and Gordon, who were both anticipating what their father was thinking and looking decidedly nervous, and Jeff's mind was made up. He knew his youngest sons would stop at nothing when it came to gaining information about Virgil's whereabouts, even if that including convincing Tin-Tin to help or tutoring her in what she had to do. Given the situation, Tin-Tin could be swayed without much resistance, and Jeff didn't doubt that Brains would join in his youngest sons' efforts to protect her from the consequences of her actions.
"Not e-exactly, Mr. Tracy," Brains fidgeted on the sofa he'd perched on during the recording. "We've been doing a err…l-l-little research into MI-5. This recording was err attached to a decoy m-m-message. You're h-hearing it at err…a certain frequency, otherwise it err… j-just sounds like st-static." He gestured to Tin-Tin and beckoned her forward, "Go ahead err…T-Tin-Tin."
"Well, as you know, we assumed that MI 5 were the relevant body to contact," she held a pen in one hand as she spread her hands out, "but we were wrong." She took a moment to look at the frowns that were now staring at her in a cross between confusion and disbelief, Jeff Tracy sporting the deepest of them all. "We assumed that the Research Center in Wales was controlled by MI 5 because it was a top secret government project but it isn't. Well at least, not MI 5 in the sense we thought. According to the files…." She glanced up to Alan and Gordon before lowering her head and continuing, "…Brains managed to access, the Research Center was funded by a branch of MI 5 known as MI R; Military Intelligence Research. It was founded during the Second World War and then supposedly disbanded when the need for weapons testing after the war became redundant. It seems it wasn't disbanded as absolutely as the paperwork would have you believe. It's so top secret that we don't think even Sir William Fraser, the current director general of the British Secret Service is aware it exists."
"I wish we'd known this from the start, Tin-Tin," Jeff stopped her with a confused expression and an exasperated shake of the head. "We're in a hell of a lot deeper then we could have ever imagined."
With a nod of the head, Tin-Tin agreed, "The Center and MI R were both re-constructed and awarded funding again in the early twenty first century, during the so called War on Terror. After the war ended, the funding was never revoked but MI R fabricated its own disbandment. The backing now comes directly out of the Secret Service budget from none other than the Home Secretary," Tin-Tin's eyes flicked up to Jeff's as she paused.
Jeff shook his head as he attempted to comprehend all the new information this breakthrough had brought forth. This changed everything; not only were they deep into the corrupt and clandestine affairs of the British, they were up to their neck in classified information that, allegedly, not even some of the country's top politicians knew about. What was he to do?
Any other time, decision making was his forte, after all, that's where Scott got it from, right? Not today though. His decision today was crucial to the survival of his son, not to mention the three other sons staring at him and putting all their faith in him to come up with an answer. Whichever way he turned someone lost out; there was no answer to this and if there wasn't an answer, then he simply had to prioritise what was most important. And there was one thing that stood out as being most important in his book.
"So, what you're saying is that the Home Secretary knows about this?" he asked, reeling from the revelation. "Okay," he leant forward in his chair, attempting to stay calm and come to an important decision. "John," he asked, as he rubbed at his bleary eyes, "you said you recognized one of the voices, do you know where from?"
John shrugged, trying to pull the memory from his mind but it wouldn't come, "No, I'm sorry, Dad, it's familiar, I'm sure of it. I'm just not sure where I've heard it, maybe on a past rescue. I'll check the records." He was frustrated at his inability to remember and let out a low growl of annoyance as he closed his eyes. "Hold up, Parker's calling in," he turned away from the console to answer Parker's incoming call.
"Okay, Alan, Hunt made a phone call, how?" Jeff frowned, turning his attention to the other monitor's live feed of his sons.
"Yeah, Dad," Alan nodded, "Cook said that the scientist was talking into a pen after the Mole surfaced and we'd all gone outside. He thought Hunt was just mumbling to himself to begin with but then he realized that he was actually talking to someone." Alan paused and offered his father up a pained expression, "I should have said something before, I'm sorry, Father, but I thought Cook was just making it up, you know how he is."
"Well, we know now that's the important thing." Jeff turned in his chair to face the remaining occupants, "Brains, Tin-Tin, do you think it's safe to conclude that the person at the airport is not Virgil?"
"I do," John returned to the conversation. "Parker said that Penelope and Scott are in there right now with one of the prisoners. It's not Virgil at the airport."
"Damn it!" Gordon exclaimed. Somewhere behind him the sentiment was echoed as Alan made his opinion known.
"Alright, so he's not at the airport, he's got to be at Ferryhill, there's nowhere else." Jeff thought aloud.
"The other err… two signals were coming f-f-from Ferryhill when I err… tapped into this err… c-c-conversation, Mr. T-Tracy," Brains glanced at his watch." I'd err strongly s-s-suggest we start looking for Virgil there but..."
"But that's where this Four guy is heading too," Jeff's tone and expression where grim as he centred his attention on the feed coming from Thunderbird Two. "Okay, Gordon," Jeff looked up at his aquanaut son. It seemed so wrong to see the background of Thunderbird Two behind him but Jeff shut his mind to that and began to do what he always did - take control. "Where are you now?" he asked, placing his glasses back on and sitting a little straighter.
"Reference 42984/ 976, Father, I'm hovering not far from the Welsh border," Gordon informed him.
"Right," Jeff took in a deep breath and puffed his chest out. He was the commander of International Rescue and his son was out there desperately in need of rescuing. He wasn't about to let him down. "The way I see it, Virgil was definitely on that jet. The jet crashed at Ferryhill so that's the last place we know for sure he was and that's where we start looking. Gordon, Alan, I want you to head to the crash site and search the surrounding areas for anything or anyone that could be Virgil. Use the heat radar, body sonar equipment, use anything you can get your hands on but be careful, we have to presume that at least two of these guys are still at the scene with this Four guy on his way too. John, I need you to keep an ear out in case anyone finds Virgil or reports it to the emergency services. I also need to know the moment Scott or Penelope calls in."
"Sure," John nodded "but that guy said in the recording he's holding back the emergency services, my guess is someone's already reported the crash."
"Then make sure they stay away, John," Jeff replied. "The last thing we need is more complications."
"Yes, Sir," John frowned as Gordon and Alan repeated the affirmative response with an "FAB".
"Brains, is it possible for you to get back into this system you accidentally accessed?" Jeff went on to ask with a raised eyebrow. He was somewhere between amusement and surprise at the fact that he was expected to accept Brains alleged involvement but he'd have time to deal with that later and also get to the bottom of just what had happened. He had a sneaking suspicion that Brains was an innocent party.
"N-No, M-Mr. Tracy," Brains replied with a shake of the head, "it'd be err… t-too risky. We'd be taking a ch-chance and though the err… Secret Service aren't as err… w-well advanced technologically as err u-us, we shouldn't err under-underestimate them. I may be able to err… f-find the f-frequency they're transmitting on."
"Okay, do it. Then work on what you have already. Tin-Tin, you do everything you can to help him. See if you can narrow down the search parameters or work out which device corresponds to which offender, anything. At least then we might have a better idea of who we're dealing with," Jeff looked up as Kyrano walked towards his desk. "Yes, Kyrano?"
"Mr. Tracy," the Malaysian retainer bowed his head, "I am sorry to interrupt, Sir, but Mrs. Tracy is once again on the video-phone and is requesting you speak with her."
Jeff let out an aggrieved sigh, "Okay, Kyrano. I'll be there in a second." He turned back to the faces that surrounded him and slowly made eye contact with each one of them. Family and friends, united with one common goal, finding Virgil. "Okay, be careful," were his final words as the radio links both shut down. Tin-Tin and Brains began to pack away the computer as Jeff stood from behind his desk and headed towards his study. He stopped only to ask Kyrano to man the fort at his desk and to place his hand on Brains' back. Looking the scientist in the eye, he gave his shoulder a soft squeeze, hopefully one of reassurance, and smiled at Tin-Tin, "Good work you two, well done."
Heading to speak with his mother, his mind lingered on the fact that no-one had raised the possibility that Virgil might not have made it out of the jet alive.
XxxxX
Jake felt a whoosh of air as a blur of colour flashed by his face. The cool of the propelled air as it whipped past his nose would have made him shudder, but he didn't have time. Instinct took over and he closed his eyes, turning his head to one side, away from the sudden movement.
Chaos ensued.
Penelope's plea to stop clashed with Scott's loud grunt of effort as he swung his fist in Jake's direction.
There was an almighty bang, causing Jake to wince, and then nothing. Confused by the lack of pain emanating from his body, he tried to relax and reassess the situation. He could hear the rushed tapping of Penelope's shoes come to a stop nearby and he could feel Scott's hot breath on his face but he daren't open his eyes.
"This isn't going to get us anywhere," Penelope tried to adopt a soothing tone but it sounded more aggravated then caring. Jake didn't believe for one second she was on his side and so her tone of voice just made him more nervous about what Scott was capable of doing.
Waiting until Scott's breathing had showed signs of steadying, Jake eventually popped an eye open. Veins protruding from the pilot's temple were pulsating in a steady rhythm and the white of his eyes were pink from the stress of keeping his anger at bay. Jake took one look at his eyes, so full of fury, and then moved to the source of the shadow that lay across his face. Slowly Scott's arm came into focus, tense muscle and the deep blue of the bulging veins in his wrist. Jake's gaze travelled down the limb to where it was embedded in the tiled wall. Small lines of blood began to give the buried fist a marbled look from where the fractured tile had lacerated the skin but when Jake looked back to Scott, he doubted that the pilot had even noticed.
Too irate to feel any real hurt, Scott ignored the scratches and levelled his gaze on something that was considerably more painful.
Extracting himself from the wall with the sound of shattered tile falling to the floor, Scott moved one hand to Jake's chest whilst the other reached down to his pocket and the piece of yellow material that had emerged. With a sharp flick of the wrist he pulled the piece of fabric out, disheartened to find it was exactly what he thought it was; Virgil's sash.
"What's this?" Scott asked, doing his best to keep the anger and vigour in his voice but his fury had erupted now, instead he sounded commanding but calmer.
Jake hesitated, watching Scott's expression change and his eyes flicker with distress. "I l-l-like to k-k-keep a m--m," he stopped to gain the required will to break through the waning effects of the serum, "m-m-memento," he finished with a sparkle of satisfaction. He wanted to smirk in Scott's face and tell him that it was a trophy. His self preservations instincts were kicking in, though, and telling that the last thing he wanted was to upset Scott anymore.
"You've got no right to have this," Scott scowled. He stared down at the sash in his hands, blood spattered and grubby, and the anger in him faded to nothing. No anger, no fury, no sympathy and no hurt. He just felt empty. His world had just been turned upside down. The rational side of his brain was telling him that Virgil could very well still be out there alive somewhere, that the truth serum wasn't fool-proof and that he shouldn't give up. At the same time an equal part of him was trying hard to comprehend that if Jake couldn't lie then his brother was dead and the sash he held in his hands was all he had left.
Scott concealed the emotions well but Jake was an expert in hiding how he truly felt and grasped the opportunity with both hands. With Scott preoccupied with his new found discovery, Jake formed tight fists with both his hands and, as Scott looked back up at him to speak again, he took his chance to pounce. Throwing himself forward, Jake sent his right fist towards Scott's abdomen with all his might, forcing the pilot backwards. As Scott doubled over, he sent the left fist flying too this time connecting with Scott's jaw.
Taken aback by the blow, Scott spun round and crashed to the floor on all fours, gasping for breath as Jake made for the door.
"Scott!" Penelope rushed to his side, "Are you alright?"
Scott was quick to brush off her concern, "I'm fine," he snapped, bringing a hand up to his cut lip. "Go after him!" he urged, trying to catch his breath, "Go!" Penelope eyed him up and down, as if to check for herself that he wasn't more injured then he was making out. She then gave him a quick nod and acquiesced to his orders, making a run for the door whilst raising her watch to call Parker.
Heaving a sigh as he attempted to control his breathing, Scott tried to follow her but he made the mistake of putting pressure on his battered hand. He winced and ended up cradling it to his chest as he sat on the floor struggling to slow his wheezing for air. Grimacing at the pain, he sat back against the tiled walls and felt the soothing cold against the heat and sweat on his back. His gaze rested on Virgil's sash which had fallen to the floor in the struggle and he reached out to retrieve it. Staring down at it in his lap, he wondered just how the hell he was going to tell his father what had happened.
As if on cue, his watch began to bleep and he didn't even need to look to know that it would be his father calling. He let his head fall back against the wall and shook his injured hand, hoping that the pins and needles sensation would pass. "Father," he acknowledged as he answered the call and braced himself.
"Scott, are you okay?" Jeff frowned at the red mark on Scott's jaw. "We know it wasn't Virgil at the airport. In fact, we've had a break through of our own that I need to update you about," he took in Scott's expression and became concerned almost immediately. "What's going on, Son?"
"Dad…" Scott faltered, "I need to speak to Brains, is he there?" he asked with sudden purpose. He wanted to be sure of the possibilities before he started worrying his father with news that he couldn't be certain was true.
"Yes, he's right here," Jeff's frown deepened at Scott's determined expression and he gestured for the scientist to step forward into view. "What's this about, Scott?"
"Brains," Scott began, bypassing any other pleasantries, "we used the truth serum on the guy from the airfield. Is there any way he could lie while under the influence of it? Anything at all?"
Brains raised a hand to his blue rimmed spectacles and pushed them a little further up his nose, "It's err… highly unlikely, Scott," he frowned. Scott's expression demonstrated that it was not the answer he wanted to hear and Brains thought harder not to disappoint the disheartened pilot, "The serum a-a-affects the err… chemical r-reactions in the err …b-brain. It forces the err ….individual to …. speak the tr-truth as they see it."
"As they see it?" Scott held on to those words like a lifeline. "So, they could be inaccurate as long as they believed they were telling the truth?"
Brains frowned, "Err…y-y-yes."
Scott breathed an internal sigh of relief until he met his father's gaze and realised that he needed to explain his sudden rush to speak to Brains.
"Scott, what's all this about?" Jeff asked, his frown penetrating Scott's existence like a beam of light through the darkest of shadows.
"We apprehended the ringleader here at the airport," Scott began, flexing his injured hand and willing it to work. "When we gave him the truth serum he told us…" he sighed and looked straight up at his father, "he told us Virgil was dead." Watching his father's expression change and his eye's become dark, Scott hurried to explain, "It doesn't mean anything though. He said Virgil was in the jet when it exploded but he might've escaped or not been hurt." Scott realised that the chances of that happening were doubtful but he couldn't bring himself to accept anything else. "Or he might be hurt somewhere," that scenario didn't fill him with reassurance either, realising he was digging a hole he clamped his mouth shut.
"Dead?" Jeff shook his head. "No," he muttered. "No, he can't be," he whispered as his eyes took on a far-off appearance. "But, we haven't heard…" he shook his head again, pulling himself together. "No, Scott, I can't accept that," he said, his voice hardened and overflowing with resolve.
"Me neither," Scott replied, his eyes burned as he tried to blink away the desire to crumble. He was tired and he was more afraid then he would ever admit that he could be in very real danger of losing one of his brothers. "Not while there's the smallest chance that he could be out there."
"Where are you now?" Jeff made it clear that the subject was neither up for discussion or debate and changed the focus to something that would give him back the element of control he'd been lacking.
"I'm at the airport, the guy's made a run for it but Penny and Parker are chasing after him," Scott informed his father, slightly relieved at his attitude towards Jake's bombshell news. "I'm going to head back to the crash site. I'm only twenty minutes away, and that's where we know Virgil was last."
"Good," Jeff nodded his approval. "That's the conclusion we came to as well. Gordon and Alan should already be there scanning the area for any body signals that could be Virgil. In the meantime, there are a few things I think you should know…"
XxxxX
"…he told us Virgil was dead."
Sitting frozen at his control unit, John Tracy realised with belated shock that the earlier crash had been caused by one of his accumulation of coffee mugs falling to the floor. The news that his brother could be dead was shocking enough but to hear it third party was even worse. The coffee mug had slipped from his grasp and was now in several pieces on the floor, lying in a river of black coffee. He grasped the edge of the desk as he listened to the rest of the conversation and Scott's rambled attempt to deny the reality.
Sometimes being in the world's biggest communications satellite had its downfalls and this was certainly one of them; you often heard things you didn't want to. Scott and Virgil were particularly bad at forgetting he was up there listening, usually on the journey home from a late night rescue when they both needed the conversation to help fight off fatigue. John heaved a heavy sigh and stood, careful to avoid chunks of china.
He was about to make his way to the kitchen to fetch something to clean up the mess, when the red light on the other side of the station began to flash, "Calling International Rescue…"
"No," John shook his head in disbelief, "please, God, no. Not now."
But the voice wasn't listening.
"Calling International Rescue," it continued, "Calling International Rescue, we need your help…."
