Chapter Twelve: Breaking and Entering

Katherine Oliver lived in a moderate, semi-detached house on the outskirts of Cambridge. Part of one of those flat-pack housing estates popular back in the late twentieth century, there was nothing to differentiate Kate's house from any of the surrounding dwellings aside from a pair of cheery red curtains that hung in the front window. The garden was a plain stretch of green lawn and a short hedge, to give the allusion of privacy. A nice house, nothing wrong with it really, but something about the way that it screamed "suburbia" made Gordon uncomfortable.

Scott turned off the engine and just sat there for a few moments, eyes fixed on the dashboard. Gordon watched his brother, but didn't say anything. This was going to be hard enough for Scott without him weighing in with an unwanted opinion.

"Alright," Scott said finally. "Let's go."

He shoved the car door opening without waiting for an answer and Gordon was forced to hare after him, running straight into the little swing gate when Scott didn't hold it open for him. By the time he joined his brother by the front door, Scott had already rang the doorbell.

They waited – Scott patiently, Gordon fidgeting with his jacket. Kate was definitely home; there was a little dark blue car parked on the drive. Maybe she was in the shower? Evening was drawing in now; perhaps she had plans. After the scene between her and Scott, Gordon couldn't blame her for wanting to head out for a boozy night on the town.

Just as Scott was reaching up to ring the bell again, there was the sound of a chain scraping against wood and then the door opened. Not fully, but just enough so that he could make out a female face on the other side. Kate Oliver – and she didn't look happy to see them.

"What do you want?"

"Kate –"

"I can't believe you had the gall to show up here – what were you thinking? That I'd let you in, let bygones be bygones and we could all have a nice cup of tea and a biscuit? Well I'm fresh out of both so why don't you just sod off and leave me alone?"

She tried to close to door. Scott stuck his foot in the gap. "Kate, just listen to me –"

"Move your foot."

"Please –"

"Oh now you're being polite? Maybe you should have tried more of that earlier – it would have worked a hell of a lot better than yelling at me! Now move your damn foot!"

"Just give me one minute," Scott challenged, foot still firmly preventing the door from closing, "and I'll tell you everything."

She stared at him and then laughed derisively. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to make it easy for you, like some kind of soppy romance film. Where are the flowers, eh? And the chocolates? I'm surprised you didn't get down on one knee to beg my forgiveness –"

"Stop it!" Scott commanded, pushing on the door. "And let me in!"

It was the wrong move; Gordon saw that instantly. The woman drew herself up, her dark eyes flashing. "You don't tell me what to do," she said quietly. "You never tell me what to do, do you understand? I'm not your lackey; I'm not your employee and I sure as hell am not your property, Scott Tracy. I don't know what this afternoon was about and frankly, I don't really care. The way you spoke to me – it made me feel this small." She held her thumb and index finger a couple of millimetres apart. "I haven't felt like that in a really long time. And I've no desire to feel like that again in the future. So take your foot out of my doorframe, walk down that path and stay the hell away from me!"

Either Scott just gave in, or Kate's anger gave her the added strength she needed, because this time the door really did slam shut. Scott stumbled, his hand grazing the wood and balling into a fist. For a second Gordon thought he was going to hammer on the door, demand to be let in. But instead, Scott lowered his hand and stepped backwards.

"Um … what now?" Gordon asked into the silence.

Scott dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key. He hefted it in his palm. "We try the back door."

Gordon stared at it and then jerked his head up to look at Scott. "You have a key?"

Scott closed his fingers around it and started off round the side of Kate's house. Gordon followed him, still mulling the revelation over. Scott had a key? To his girlfriend's house? That was serious relationship territory. Really serious relationship territory. If the two years thing hadn't been enough of a clue, this definitely was. What was it costing Scott to be here, doing this? And God, how was he going to react if it did turn out that Kate had something to do with Alan's coma?

Scott opened the side gate and they stepped into Kate's back garden. It was as unremarkable as the front; another square of lawn framed by flowerbeds and ringed by a wooden fence. Light from Kate's kitchen spilled out onto the patio, but the room itself was empty.

Scott approached the back door, which was nothing more than a few bits of plywood and some panes of glass. Before he could open it, Gordon caught his arm. "Do you really think breaking into her house is gonna help this situation?"

"No, probably not. But we need this information and right now, I can't see any other way of getting it."

"But what about …" Gordon wanted to say, what about your relationship with Kate? but couldn't quite find the words.

"Do you want to be the one who tells Dad that we failed? Who tells Alan?" Scott shrugged his hand off and turned back to the door. "I didn't think so."

He unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Kate?" he called, stepping inside.

Gordon closed the door behind them, shutting out the cool evening air. When he turned back to survey the kitchen, he saw that Kate had appeared in the doorway. To say she didn't look pleased was the world's biggest understatement.

Although he'd technically seen her at the university and the front door, this was the first time Gordon had got a good look at his brother's girlfriend. And she wasn't exactly what he would have expected. Instead of the typical model-esque blondes that Scott seemed to favour, Kate was petite and curvy – maybe even a touch overweight. She was dressed casually, in worn jeans and a green sweater and with her mass of dark curls, dark eyes and pale skin, she was striking, but not the kind of woman that would make you stop and stare in the street. Gordon wondered how she and Scott had met.

"What the – you're breaking into my house now?" she shook her head, curls dancing wildly, dark eyes reflecting her fury. "Where do you get off? What makes you think you can – oh, that's right. I forgot. You're Scott Tracy. You can do whatever the hell you want because your daddy's some kind of bigshot. Well that might work in the US, but this is England and I doubt even Jeff Tracy is above the law here. So get out of my house before I call the police and get you arrested for breaking and entering, stalking, trespassing and whatever else I can come up with!"

"Don't you want to know why I was asking about Richard Wilcox?"

"I don't care." Kate crossed to the kitchen counter and snatching up the cordless phone that lay there. She punched in a three digit number – no guessing which one – and then pressed the phone to her ear, waiting.

"Kate…" Scott reached for her but she backed away, holding her hand out. "Police please," she said into the phone.

Scott caught Gordon's eyes and he saw the desperation there. Everything was spiralling out of control and his brother didn't know how to fix it.

Gordon thought quickly. The only thing that was going to satisfy Kate now was the absolute truth. About IR, Alan, Wilcox – everything. But there was no way that Scott was going to tell her that. Not when it would directly countermand one of Jeff Tracy's strictest orders: the need for absolute secrecy. He respected their father's rules too much. He wouldn't break them, not even when it meant losing someone he loved.

Gordon had no such qualms. He'd faced his dad's wrath countless times before and would no doubt face it again in the future. Everything he'd seen of Kate, everything Scott had told him, pointed to the fact that she was either the most committed plant they'd ever come across or she was a genuine Physics professor who had just had the misfortune to fall in love with one Scott Tracy.

Behind him, Kate had moved past the I'd-like-to-speak-to-someone-in-charge phase and was explaining that two men had broken into her house and were refusing to leave. Scott had fallen silent. He was leaning against the kitchen units, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes on Kate.

Gordon cleared his throat noisily. Scott frowned at him and even Kate paused, with a hurried, "Could you just hold on a second, please?" to whoever she was talking to on the phone.

Once he was sure he had their attention, Gordon declared, "We're members of International Rescue."

Kate held his gaze for a few moments and then burst out laughing, moving the phone away from her mouth just in time. "I'm sorry, it's just – do you really think I'm that gullible? International Rescue? That's the best you can come up with?" Her good humour faded. "Get out."

"We're members of International Rescue," Gordon repeated firmly, ignoring the death-glare that Scott was sending his way. "Several months ago, one of our colleagues was injured during a rescue. We later found out that his injury was the result of a bomb, which had been planted at the rescue site and had caused the very situation we'd been called out to help with. Since then he's targeted schools, offices, warehouses and even a village in Africa. We've been tracking this bomber ever since, trying to piece together his identity so that we could find him and stop him before he hurt anyone else. The information we gathered led us to a man named Richard Wilcox, which in turn led us here."

"I don't believe you," Kate said flatly, glancing across at Scott. Something in his expression must have spoken to her because she paled and looked quickly away. When she raised her head again, her face was set. "Prove it."

Gordon raised his watch to his lips. "Gordon to Thunderbird 5. Come in Thunderbird 5."

There were a few seconds of silence and then John's voice came through. "Gordon? Can this wait? We're in the middle of a rescue here."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just needed to convince someone that we're who we say we are. This seemed like the easiest way."

"Well I'm glad I could be so obliging. Are we done?"

Gordon studied Kate carefully. "I reckon so. Thanks Johnny."

"Don't bug me again."

Gordon disconnected the call and canted an eyebrow in Kate's direction. "Proof enough for you?"

She shook her head slowly like someone waking up from a long sleep. Gordon could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece everything together. Everything she'd heard. Everything she'd seen.

"You're really International Rescue." There was the slightest edge of hysteria in Kate's voice. As if she couldn't believe what she was saying.

"Yes." Scott spoke up suddenly, startling them both. His back was to them, arms braced on the kitchen worktop. "We are."

After a full minute had passed – during which the policeman or woman on other end of the phone grew more and more agitated – Kate raised the phone to her mouth and murmured, "I'm sorry, it was a false alarm." She pressed the cancel button and very carefully put the phone back in its cradle. When she looked up again, her dark eyes were direct.

"Tell me everything."


They retired to the lounge. Tastefully decorated in shades of cream and brown, it held a sofa, sofa chair and a small television unit. Kate had settled into the chair, leaving the sofa for Gordon. Scott stood in front of the window, keeping his thoughts to himself. He seemed content to let Gordon explain.

He told her everything. Everything about the rescue in Wales that had started this whole mess. About the bombs. Their suspicions about Richard Wilcox. The Thunderbirds. Why they were here, in her living room.

All the stuff that Scott hadn't been able to bring himself to say.

Kate sat quietly, drinking everything in. Gordon could tell she believed him; that wasn't the problem. No, it was the glances she kept sneaking at Scott, the ones that spoke of her hurt and anger at just how much he'd been hiding from her. They'd been together for two years… and he'd been lying to her all along.

Gordon finally ran out of things to say and lapsed into silence. Kate rose then, not looking at either of them. "I should make some tea," she murmured, before disappearing out of the door.

Only when she'd gone, did Scott turn back around. His face was set and Gordon braced himself from a lecture, but Scott only said, "We need to ask her about Wilcox."

He could be so single-minded sometimes, Gordon thought. While that was an asset on rescues, here in the real world it could be a pain in the butt. Did he not even care that his relationship was hanging in tattered shreds?

"Well why don't you then?" Gordon replied, an edge of challenge in his voice that he hoped would kick-start Scott into some kind of action. "I've said my piece."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"One of us had to!" Gordon defended himself. "She wasn't going to believe anything but the truth." He shrugged. "I thought it would be easier coming from me."

"Dad's gonna rip you a new one."

"Yeah well … not like it'll be the first time, you know? Besides, he's all about getting the info and as far as I can see, this is the only option we had." Gordon pulled himself more upright on the sofa. "So do you wanna ask her about Wilcox, or shall I?"

"I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"I said I'll do it, Gordon."

There was a clear warning in Scott's tone and Gordon backed off. "Whatever you say."

They sat in restless silence until Kate returned to the room, tray in hand. She put a blue mug down in front of Scott without looking at him and then turned to Gordon. "I didn't know what you took so just help yourself." She indicated the milk jug and sugar bowl on the tray. Gordon smiled his thanks.

Taking her own red mug in hand, Kate settled back into the chair. She seemed calmer now, less dazed by everything, as if the time in the kitchen had helped her to put everything into perspective. Her first words pretty much confirmed that.

"So Tracy Industries is basically a front for International Rescue."

Gordon was busy stirring sugar into his tea and remained purposefully silent. If Scott wanted to saddle up and plunge in, now was the time.

"Not exactly," his brother said quietly after a pause. "But it does fund International Rescues operations."

Kate nodded slowly. "And International Rescue is a family-run organisation, led by your dad. You and all of your brothers are part of it."

"Yeah."

"Including, um…"

"Gordon," Gordon supplied helpfully.

"And Alan I assume? So when he got hurt…" She shook her head and gave a bark of a laugh. "It wasn't rock-climbing at all, was it? He was the one who was injured by this man – by the bomber you're hunting."

"Richard Wilcox," Scott corrected.

"You can't know that."

"We have some pretty compelling proof."

"A photograph?" Kate scoffed. "Hardly conclusive."

"I know you don't want to believe your friend –" Scott began.

"Don't patronise me," she interrupted. "You don't know anything about my relationship with Richard."

They slipped into an awkward silence. Gordon sipped his tea and tried to think of something to say to break the tension. For the first time in his life, he came up short.

"You know this – this is all so crazy," Kate burst out finally. "It's like something off a TV show. The secret double-life of my boyfriend…"

"So you do believe us?" Scott pressed.

She gave him a scornful look. "No one would make this up – it's too insane. And it actually explains a lot. All those times you'd call to cancel or had to leave early… I used to think you were cheating on me. Such a relief to find out you were actually off saving the world. That's sure a weight off my mind."

Scott stared at her. "You thought I was cheating on you?"

"What else was I supposed to think? I gave you the benefit of the doubt for the first year or so, but then the lies started to get a bit repetitive. And no one – not even someone with four brothers – has that many personal family emergencies to attend to." She used air-quotes to emphasise her sarcasm.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't want to believe it!" Kate shouted, pushing herself out of the chair and slamming her mug down onto the table. Hot tea sloshed over the side, but she didn't seem to notice. "Because I wanted to trust you – because I loved you, you idiot!"

They stared at each other, Kate's eyes narrowed with anger and Scott's – Scott's oddly vulnerable. Gordon, feeling very much like he was witnessing something private, scrunched down into the sofa cushions and tried to pretend he wasn't there.

After a few moments, Kate's rage subsided and she slumped back into the chair. "I can't believe you didn't tell me," she said listlessly.

"I couldn't. We have rules, my dad –" Scott shook his head. "It's complicated."

"That's such a cop out."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Scott admitted, surprising Gordon. "I could have told him. I should have."

She looked up at him then. "So why didn't you?"

"I… I don't know."

The "because I didn't trust you enough" hung in the air between them, unspoken but implicit. Kate nodded as if Scott had confirmed something and then snatched up her tea, ignoring where it dripped onto her green sweater. She gulped it down almost desperately, draining the mug in moments.

Scott waited until she'd put the mug back down again. "Kate, about Richard Wilcox …"

"You really don't want to have this conversation with me right now," she cut in, voice low.

"I don't have a choice." Scott drew himself up and folded his arms across his chest. The brief moment of vulnerability was gone and the Field Commander was back, burying his feelings beneath his work ethic. Protecting his emotions. It was certainly good for International Rescue, but was it good for Scott Tracy?

"I need this information," Scott continued. "Wilcox is dangerous and he has to be stopped before he hurts anyone else. Now, how do you know him?"

Kate looked up at him, her dark eyes brimming with anger. "You arrogant bastard. Coming in here, making your demands – I don't care if you are International Rescue, no one speaks to me like that. You don't know anything about Richard –"

"The photograph –"

"Proves nothing!"

Gordon had had enough. He stood up suddenly, startling both of them. After pausing to make sure he had their full attention, he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it carefully on the coffee table, mindful of Kate's earlier tea spill.

"This is the photo of Richard Wilcox, taken by one of our operatives in Africa. It was at the site of a wildfire that we later learned had been caused by a homemade bomb. The fire destroyed fields of crops and nearly burned a village to the ground. Richard Wilcox was discovered onsite, nursing a burned hand, which one of our operatives attended to. She states that he spoke with an English accent and appeared nervous around her." Gordon pushed the photograph across the table towards Kate. "Please, just take a look at it."

She picked it up, her eyes drawn unwillingly to the figure of the man in the centre of the frame. It wasn't a perfect image, Gordon knew, but it was certainly clear enough to provide an identification.

Kate was silent for a long time. When she finally did speak, all the fight had gone out of her voice. "When was this taken?" she asked quietly.

"A couple of weeks ago."

Her finger traced across Wilcox's face and then she pushed the picture away. "He told me he was on holiday."

"In Africa?"

"In Africa. He even brought me back one of those tacky tribal masks – oh God." She buried her face in her hands, muffling her voice. "I didn't want to believe you – I couldn't believe you, but this… this is Richard. It's really him. Which is either the world's biggest coincidence or… " She looked up suddenly, pushing dark curls out of her face. "How long has this been going on?"

Gordon and Scott exchanged glances. "We're not sure," Gordon said honestly. "But it dates back several months. Maybe even a year."

"How many accidents has the bomb – has Richard caused?" Kate demanded.

"We don't really –"

She twisted around to face Scott. "How many?"

"There are five or so that we know about for certain," he admitted. "Maybe five more we suspect his involvement in. He's clever; they don't always look like traditional terrorist attacks. Some we assumed were fires caused by other means until we found remains of the bombs."

Kate pressed a hand to her mouth. It was trembling. "Terrorist attacks… God, that's what he is now, isn't it? Richard is a terrorist. When you catch him, he's going to be arrested and sent to prison – or maybe even killed!"

Scott took a step towards her. "Kate –"

She held up her hand, stopping him. "No! I – I just need… I just need a moment. Just give me a moment."

Gordon waited until Scott glanced across at him and then jerked his head towards the door. Relief passed over Scott's face and he nodded. Gordon collected the photograph from the table and tucked it back inside his pocket. Reaching the door he paused and glanced back.

Kate had pulled her knees up and was hugging them to her chest. As Gordon watched, Scott settled on the arm of the chair. He reached out slowly, as if wanting to take her hand, hesitated, and then folded his arms across his chest instead.

The silence stretched between them as Gordon slipped out of the room.