In Too Deep - Chapter Twelve

The greens of the British countryside flew past the window becoming only a blur of colour somewhere between olive green and dark brown. Penelope drew her attention away from the vague impression she was getting of passing scenery and instead turned to the road ahead. Moving regularly through small villages, at present, they were too conspicuous to make a move on the vehicle they pursued.

Jake had opted to head out of the city and the bumpier roads were testing FAB1's suspension. Another jolt and Penelope made her discomfort known, "Parker, these primitive country roads are rather taxing."

"My h'apologies, M'Lady," Parker nodded from the front seat as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing. "Seems 'e's 'eading south east," he gestured to the display screen on the dashboard with a jerk of his head. The little screen showed their position, with a rather aptly coloured pink dot, and their target vehicle. "H'I think 'e's goin' for the docks, M'Lady," Parker guessed.

As Penelope leaned forward to see for herself, she nodded in agreement. "I think you could be right, Parker, in which case we could be heading into a more densely populated area. Have the silencer on the front cannon at the ready," she ordered as she sat back, "just in case."

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker nodded, distracted for a moment as Jake made a sharp right turn. Jumping down the gearbox, FAB1 lurched and the engine growled in protest as Parker followed.

Recovering from being thrown about in the back, Penelope straightened herself up and brushed strands of blonde hair out of her eyes. She would have made a comment about the violent manoeuvres but she barely had time to right herself before there was another jolt, this time on a smaller scale. Despite the advanced suspension and traction control working together to smooth out the ride, she still reached behind her to the concealed harness and fastened it. Making the most of the smoother ride, she turned her attention to the screen in front of her and displayed the files she'd earlier perused.

"Here we are," she pointed a manicured finger at the photograph that appeared, "I've just identified the assailant as Jake Field and it seems he's got a never ending list of deviances," she paused as her eyes scanned over his previous convictions and she reacquainted herself with the file. "Now, it's essential that Mr Field is eliminated before the police can track the vehicle he's driving."

Parker stamped on the accelerator whilst they travelled a straight stretch of road, gaining on the car in front, "Well, the h'Old Bill was turning up just as we left the h'airport, M'Lady," he said as his brow furrowed in concentration. "H'I was worried they'd give me h'another ticket, what with me parkin' on them double yell'ws h'an' all."

"Good, that means we have a head start on them," Penelope concluded. "Now, it's essential we work quickly. Signal him to pull over, Parker, and if he doesn't respond this time we shall have to take drastic action."

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker nodded. A little heavier with the gas pedal this time he pushed the pink Rolls Royce closer to the target car. A flash of the lights and a toot of the horn later, he gestured for Jake to pull over using a thumb and a wave of his hand. The gesture that Jake returned left Parker in no doubt that Lady Penelope's 'drastic action' was called for. "H'I don't think 'e's goin' to h'oblige, M'Lady," he reported.

"I see, can you attempt to over-take?" Penelope asked, leaning forward again for a better view. The lane they travelled on was narrow and twisting, the verges were so overgrown that it was difficult to see anything but the roof of the other car as it zoomed along. Parallel to the road, ran a wide river just identifiable through the overgrown foliage. There was a bare spot every now and again, where the lush greens had been cut back in order for fishermen to park their cars. Penelope knew the dangers of overtaking and ending up in the river were high but asked the question anyway. Parker was an exemplary driver.

"Not h'a good h'idea, M'Lady," Parker shook his head from side to side. "H'I'll try but that river looks deep h'and it'd h'only take one bump h'at the speed we're travellin', we'd h'end h'up in the juice." As he manoeuvred FAB1 from her central position, Jake began to weave across the narrow road, Parker tried several times to get past but was unsuccessful. "H'it's no good, h'I can't get past 'im."

"Very well," Penelope's tone was grave as she accepted what he was saying with a sad nod of the head. "Drop back," she directed. "Let's get this over with before we enter the next village," her eyes met Parker's in the mirror and between the discreet but confident nod she gave him and her tone of voice, he knew what to do. "Aim for the tyres, Parker," she told him as he drew the cannon up from its place behind the front grill. The Spirit of Ecstasy transformed into the foundation for a target grid and with textbook precision, Parker lined it up.

In the target car, Jake glanced in the mirror feeling his heart sink a little to see the pink Rolls Royce drop back. To begin with the reprieve was met with a conceited grin and a feeling of supremacy, but then he realised just why the pink Rolls was leaving some distance. He frowned in confusion as the sun caught the turning Spirit of Ecstasy and he gulped when he saw the tip of a menacing black object make it's way through the front grill. He took in a quick breath when it became apparent what was going to happen and began to curse himself. If he hadn't denied Virgil that last wish then he might have escaped without all these troubles. His wickedness and his desire to humiliate his captive had been his downfall and, looking in the rear view mirror, he knew he was about to pay for it.

"Ready, M'Lady," Parker reported from the driver's seat of FAB1.

"Fire," Penelope responded without any hesitation. As she sat back and waited for Parker to implement her order, the communications panel sprung to life with a call from Thunderbird Five. Whilst Penelope opened the channel to John, Parker took the opportunity he'd been waiting for and fired.

There was a whoosh of air but no sound of gunfire as the silencer did its job. A slight wobble signified the ability of the chassis to compensate for the recoil. Parker slowed down in order to avoid ploughing into the damaged vehicle and watched, uncertain how Jake would respond.

There was a loud bang as the tyre exploded and the car lurched to the right. Jake overcompensated for the initial loss of friction and the back of the car lit up like a Christmas tree as he stamped on the brake.

From the safety of FAB1, Parker winced, shaking his head and tutting, "You don't want t' do that, my h'old son," he muttered, watching the car lurch again towards the verge.

Jake's car careered off the road, ploughing its way through long grass and vegetation and leaving a flattened track in its path. There was the harsh sound of the engine revving as the car hit something in the foliage and it flipped over. Suddenly it was sailing through the air, the three remaining tyres failing to get any kind of purchase, and there was an ominous pause before the sound of it hitting the water.

In contrast to the chaos outside the car, Penelope was her usual calm self as her eyes remained fixed to the monitor in front of her, "I see, John, yes I shall. Thank you and do keep us informed." She smiled and turned her attention back to Parker, who was guiding the pink Rolls into the clearing Jake's vehicle had carved out.

"Seems 'e took h'a swim," Parker reported.

"Oh dear, how unfortunate," Penelope's tone of voice belied the sentiment. "Well, let's hurry, Parker, John informed me that the Police aren't far behind us." With that she opened the car door and stepped onto the grass verge, fighting her way through reeds and long blades of grass to get a better look at the wreckage. The car was upside down, bobbing about in the river and slowly sinking as the water pressure equalised. The potent smell of burning rubber hung in the air and smoke billowed from the damaged tyre, mingling with the steam from the engine.

"What a shame, such a waste," Penelope shook her head. As she watched the current in the water float a leaf past them. Parker nodded and took his cap off, placing it over his heart in respect. Penelope heaved a sigh and began walking towards the Pink Rolls Royce again, satisfied that her work was done, "The owner will be devastated, I believe that's a rare model, but such a sacrifice was required. He left us with no choice," she said.

Parker stood for a moment, watching her walk away and making sense of what she'd said. Realising it was the car she was mourning and not the driver, he quickly replaced his cap and scurried after her. Coming to stand beside her, his blood ran cold at the sight of a police car, lights flashing and sirens blaring, heading straight towards them. "Blimey!" he exclaimed. "H'it's the h'Old Bill!" such a sight still gripped his heart with panic even now when, as far as most people knew, he stuck to the straight and narrow. "Permission to wait in the car, M'Lady?"

"Permission granted, Parker," Penelope suppressed a smile at his sudden uneasiness, "I can handle this." She turned to him as he began to walk briskly towards the drivers door, "Oh, Parker," she called, waiting for him to turn back, "excellent shooting, by the way." He gave her a brief nod and glanced at the approaching police car before hurrying into the Rolls and pulling his cap down over his eyes. By the time the police car pulled up, he wasn't visible above the dashboard.

XxxxX

Meanwhile in Thunderbird Two's cockpit the atmosphere was tense. Gordon had long since blocked out Alan's constant jabbering in order to concentrate on what he was doing, piloting the mammoth Thunderbird wasn't half as easy as Virgil made it look. Not to mention his own concern for the situation or the fatigue he felt. Alan was by far the brother he was closest to, but that didn't mean the younger man didn't test his patience at times and as Gordon glanced over the instrumentation, he couldn't help but wish Alan would just sit down and shut up.

"So, Brains thinks the other two are still at the crash site? Why would they stay there?" Alan frowned, turning to his redhead brother as he continued to pace the cockpit behind the pilot's chair. It was clear he was expecting an answer but Gordon was too busy concentrating on his flying and made no attempt to reply. "If I'd just escaped prison and a life sentence, I'd be running as fast as I could. I wonder how accurate those tag things are. Our ETDs are accurate to within a meter but Brains said that the signal's much stronger and it's a long time since he actually got that information, maybe they've moved. It's a possibility, don't you think?" Again no reply came but this time Alan stopped to raise his eyebrows. "Gordon?" he asked. "Gordy?" again, he tried to get his brother's attention. He reached out a hand to the back of Gordon's seat, "Gordon, are you listening to me?"

"What?" Gordon snapped back, twisting in his chair long enough to glare at this younger brother. "Look, Alan, would you just sit down!" he shook his head and muttered under his breath. "I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Gee, I'm sorry," Alan responded sarcastically as he moved across to the co-pilot's seat and sat down. "I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to think. Virgil doesn't need complete silence to fly," he pouted.

"Yeah, well I'm not Virgil!" Gordon responded, his temper getting the better of him. "And, in case it's escaped your notice, Virgil isn't here!" as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Acknowledging the fact that he was taking his worry and anxiety out on his younger brother, he let out a remorseful sigh and softened his tone. "You need to get the imaging equipment set up, use the heat register and the body sonar…" he trailed off when he met Alan's blank expression, albeit briefly. "What?"

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" Alan asked, aggrieved. "The equipment's all ready to go and has been for the last five minutes." His tone was curt and it was obvious he was still smarting from Gordon's outburst. He sat with his arms folded across his chest and an angry scowl smeared on his face. "Don't take it out on me!" he muttered, his eyebrows getting closer as his scowl deepened. "You think I'm not worried too?"

Gordon sighed and ran a hand over his face. He'd hoped that changing the subject would be an end to the matter, but Alan was making it clear that it would take more than a silent agreement to cease fire. With another sigh, he swallowed his pride, "I'm sorry, Al, I guess I'm just concentrating a little too hard."

Alan scoffed and, feeling uncomfortable, moved about in his seat. He could understand that Gordon was upset and that he felt under pressure but Virgil wasn't just Gordon's brother.

It was only when Alan made no attempt to accept Gordon's apology that the aquanaut realised how much the comments must have stung. "Al," Gordon tried again, "I've said I'm sorry, I know you're finding this just as tough as I am."

"He's my brother too," Alan replied in a huff. He turned around in his seat and began to adjust the equipment. Gordon watched him, hoping that it was an end to the conversation. The last thing they needed on top of everything else was to be at each other's throats.

"We're approaching the crash site now," Gordon reported as he controlled the mammoth transporter round in an arc until a tower of smoke could be seen in the distance. Alan nodded but didn't say anything as he reached forward and started the equipment operating. Gordon bit his bottom lip. The silent treatment, he mused. He purposely didn't bite, hoping that Alan would let it drop. They had more important things to concentrate on right now.

"Anything?" Gordon asked, slowing down and lowering their altitude, enabling Alan to scan the area.

Alan glanced at the screen and then turned to his brother. The hope he saw in Gordon's eyes was probably mirrored in his own and it broke his heart when he could only shake his head, "Nothing yet," he added. "But that could be good, there's no sign of any other signals either, so it looks like we beat that Four guy."

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird Five," John's voice boomed through the speakers, saving them both from the uncomfortable silence.

Without hesitating, Gordon leant forward to the radio, "Go ahead, John," his tone of voice said it all and he let out another heavy sigh as he waited for John to respond. The hesitation didn't bode well. Gordon frowned and glanced at Alan, his eyes wide with immediate worry. "John?" he asked, not leaving Alan's gaze.

"I'm here, Gordy," John's tone was soft and the tension in the air became heavier. Sensing that the news wasn't good, Alan left his post to stand behind his brother. Now he was able to place a comforting hand on Gordon's tense shoulder as if to tell him their earlier discussion was forgotten.

"What is it, John?" Alan swallowed, looking at his blond brother and silently begging him not to give them more bad news, "What's wrong?"

Gordon flicked on the auto-pilot in order to give his space-bound brother his full attention. John coughed and cleared his throat, uncomfortable that he should be the one to break the news. He could see Alan was anxious to know but the blank expression on Gordon's features worried him, "Scott called in a few minutes ago, he confirmed that Virgil wasn't at the airport but it gets worse..." There was a pause before John went on, both Alan and Gordon leant forward in a subconscious gesture to get closer to the monitor. "Scott gave the ringleader a dose of truth serum and he swore blind that Virgil never got out of the jet before it exploded." He waited for the impact of what he was saying to sink in. Gordon's eyes closed as he sat back in his seat, understanding but at the same time, denying the possibility. Alan, however, just frowned his confusion.

"But if he didn't escape the jet then…." The younger blond's eyes were drawn to the plume of smoke on the horizon as he digested what John was saying.

"What else, John?" Gordon's voice was flat, past the stage where it held any trace of emotion. Alan heard the hint of detachment that his brother's voice carried, making him sound cold and harsh. It reminded him that despite Gordon's young years, like Scott, he had military experience. Often, when the tension reached such a critical level, he would turn to dealing with things the same way their older brother did. The military switch, as Virgil had once described it, was well and truly on.

"I just received a distress call, I think it was from one of the criminals. He didn't say his name but he asked for help, in fact, all he said was 'we need help' and then he got cut off." John reported professionalism prominent in his tone of voice, "I traced the call, seems they're in your area. I think Brains was right and that they're still at the crash site."

"They've got some damned gall calling us for help!" Alan fumed, "After everything they've done! I'll give them help all right…" Gordon looked at him with dull eyes and was almost able to see the steam coming out of Alan's ears.

"Alan…" the redhead protested at his brother's loud outburst.

John's sigh crackled through the airwaves, having received a similar response from Scott when he'd reported the call; this was exactly what he had expected from the most hot-headed of his brothers. It was at times like this that the similarities Alan and Scott shared became apparent even though they expressed themselves in different ways.

"Do they think we're stupid?" Alan continued, showing no signs of quietening down, "I mean, what do they take us for? I hope you told him where to go John!"

"Al, this isn't helping," John jumped in when Alan paused for breath and put an end to the tirade. When Alan opened his mouth to retort, John gestured to Gordon who had gone back to resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes.

Alan looked at his aquanaut brother and stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and then looking from John's monitor to Gordon. He dropped his head, "I'm sorry guys," he apologised in a meek tone, "I guess it just makes me mad, that's all."

"It makes us all mad," Gordon replied, "but we have to focus now, get back to that scanner." Without argument, which was evidence enough of the stress they were all under, the youngest of the brothers took his seat again. Gordon watched him go and then turned back John, "You don't really think he was in that jet, do you, John?" he asked, his tone low and apprehensive of the answer that would be returned.

"I can't, Gordy," John shook his head, "and neither can you. Right now, we have to hope that Virgil's escaped these guys and is waiting for you to pick him up."

Gordon began to shake his head, showing just how downcast and despondent he felt, "No, Dad was right, he would've been in touch if that were the case."

John looked at his brother, sitting in Thunderbird Two's pilot's chair and for the first time really took in his appearance. Gordon's shoulders were drooped but the frown plastered across his forehead had only grown in depth during their conversation. He looked tired and tense, bringing John to the conclusion that Gordon wasn't coping all that well with the intensity of the situation. "Hey," he forced a smile to part his lips, hoping to raise his brother's spirits, he knew they couldn't afford to lose hope. Hope was all they had left now and they had to cling to it with both hands. "You know Virgil, he's probably watching you from down there, taking notes on how well you're doing. He might not have been able to get in touch, maybe he's hurt or…"

"Dead?" Gordon's voice filled the void before John could come up with a suitable alternative.

"Listen, Gordon," John glanced behind him at where Alan was working, "I know the last few hours have been tough and I know you're exhausted right now, we all are, but Virgil's out there somewhere, I promise you. And he's counting on us to get to him. We have to think positively, you can't let Alan hear you talking like that."

Gordon lowered his head and then began to nod. As John had done before, he glanced across to Alan to ensure he was busy, "I know, John," he sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just, it's hard, ya'know? I guess I'm letting it get to me, we're overdue some good news."

"Tell me about it," John scoffed in reply, "but we can't give up him. He'd never give up on you."

Gordon suddenly felt guilty for the dejection that had taken a firm hold on his heart and attempted to shake himself out of it. "I know he wouldn't," he muttered letting out another heavy sigh. "How the hell did we get into this mess, John?"

"That doesn't matter right now," John replied, as resolute and calm as he ever was. No matter what the situation, Gordon could always rely on his older blond brother to be the rational one, "what matters is how we get out of it in one piece. Now, Penelope's dealing with the guy from the airport so we don't have to worry about him. Scott should be with you soon, he's left the airport and he's heading to the crash site. In the meantime, you keep scanning the area and keep an eye out for that Four guy. Be careful."

Gordon nodded, taking a few moments to pull himself together. John was doing what John did best – talking sense. "Okay, we're approaching the crash site now, it doesn't look good, John, I can see the fire on the horizon," he paused to turn across to Alan, feeling a little guilty for being so snappy earlier. "You found anything, Al?" he purposely shortened Alan's name in an effort to sound a little friendlier than he had done earlier.

Alan just shook his head, "Negative. Nothing that resembles anything human."

Gordon turned back to John and echoed Alan's gesture, "We'll keep looking. What about Dad? What's he going to do about that recording Brains got his hands on?" He knew his father would want to do the right thing. He'd already expressed his disgust at this project but now the lines had been blurred as to who was responsible. International Rescue might have been an apolitical organisation but that didn't make them amoral. His father would want to do what he saw as the right thing.

John smirked, "That would be the recording you helped Tin-Tin hack in to?" he said, letting his brothers know that they weren't fooling anyone.

Gordon looked to Alan, feeling like they'd been rumbled but Alan just held his head high and shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about, John. Has Dad made a decision yet?"

"No," John ran a hand over his fair hair, prepared to let the subject drop, "he won't do anything to jeopardize us finding Virgil but I think he'll want to make sure this can't happen again. At the moment, he's trying to explain to Grandma that he's got no one he can send to pick her up. I'll give him a call later, see what he has planned."

"Okay," Gordon nodded, "what are we going to do about this distress call? There isn't much to go on. I mean, what if it's a trap? We just don't know what we'd be walking in to." He frowned, in turmoil, "At the same time, we can't just leave these guys if they're in need of genuine help."

Somewhere behind him, Alan mumbled something along the lines of, "I don't see why not."

Gordon ignored him and carried on, "If they're in real trouble we can't discriminate. I'm sure that's what Dad would say."

"Well," John shrugged, "at the moment there's not a lot we can do. I'm working on tracing the signal more accurately but there wasn't much to go on. I've been trying to return the call but there's no response as yet," he shook his head, "the radio they were using just died."

"Hold it!" Alan exclaimed, frowning at the screen in front of him and pushing the headset he wore against his ear. "Gordon, hold her still." He ordered in a frenzy, concentrating on the screen in front of him and shuffling to the edge of his seat in anticipation.

Gordon obliged, steadying the great ship by adjusting the autopilot settings, "What have you got?" he turned away from John to look at Alan, eager for some news. When Alan's only reply was to concentrate harder, he checked that the autopilot was functioning and went to stand at his brother's shoulder, peering at the screen.

"There," Alan pointed to the screen as Gordon leant forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm picking up a reading from there and it looks like it could be human."

There was suddenly a spark of apprehension in the air and the thrill of making potential progress spurned Gordon into action. "Cross reference that with the map," Gordon squeezed his shoulder, eagerly waiting for him to pinpoint the position. He began to tap his foot on the floor but stopped when Alan scowled up at him. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Is it just the one signal, Al?" John asked from the monitor Gordon had abandoned, reminding Thunderbird Two's stand-in pilot that he was still there. "Be careful, we know that there are at least two of the criminals still in that area, they could be armed and dangerous."

"Yeah, and that the agent from the recording is on his way up here too," Gordon added with a shake of the head. "He sounded like he meant business."

John nodded even though neither of his younger brothers were close enough to see him. He could tell just by the tone in Gordon's voice that this news couldn't have come at a better time. Then, just when things appeared bleak, light appeared at the end of the tunnel. "Even more reason to establish if it's Virgil, then get in there and pull him out before this Agent Four turns up. Whoever he is." John frowned, still unable to fathom where he'd heard the voice. He'd even gone through previous recordings from earlier rescue missions that had involved the British Secret Service in an effort to place it, but he'd been unsuccessful.

"This could take a few minutes," Alan frowned in concentration, "bear with me, guys."

Gordon seemed to pick up on John's frustration and sat back down in his seat, leaving Alan to do the various cross referencing. "You don't think it's Southern, do you, John? He was with MI5, you remember him, don't you? He was the one that we rescued from those robots at the plutonium storage place."

"Yeah," John let out a haggard sigh, "yeah, I remember him, he was trapped after he infiltrated the Erdman Gang but I'm sure it's not him, Gordy. Besides, his cover was blown during that assignment, he had to resign." The blond astronaut's frown deepened the more they discussed it, "I just can't place it, I've cross matched a voice sample through all our records containing any reference to the British Secret Service. It's so darned frustrating!"

"Well, Southern could have been re-instated," Gordon suggested but seeing John's expression he let that idea drop, it was obvious John thought it unlikely. "Okay, well we've had other dealings with MI 5. What about that guy from the French Riviera," he clicked his fingers, "oh, what was he called? You know the one… when Penelope posed as that model that time."

"You mean Bondson?" John looked at Gordon, narrowed the gap between his eyebrows and then shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't him. I would have recognized his voice right away."

They both sat there for a while in pensive silence, trying to think of a way round it. Gordon stroked his chin and glanced across at Alan who was cursing at the equipment that was apparently defying his orders. Then, an idea struck him, "John, what if you didn't speak to this guy in a professional capacity? You said you cross matched his voice to all our records with Secret Service connections but what if you've spoken to him as just an ordinary member of the public?"

John began to nod, "Or maybe he's pretending to be someone else."

"Yeah," Gordon matched his nod. "He might be undercover or something…"

John opened his mouth to respond but wasn't quick enough to beat Alan's cry of, "Yes! Result at last!" Quickly closing his mouth so as not to resemble a goldfish, he waited for his youngest brother to appear on the screen. "I've got it!" Alan crowed, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he wandered into John's picture. "There are three signals in total, I'm pretty sure they're all human. They're here," he pointed on Gordon's map.

"That's…" Gordon frowned, "That's right over there," he stretched a pointed finger out towards the air base almost below them. "This is great!"

"Three signals, Alan? Are you sure?" John's serious expression pulled all the relief from the atmosphere. "That means it could be Virgil but he's still with the other two prisoners, they could still be holding him. There'd be another body signal if the spy was in the vicinity, there'd be four signals."

"I don't know, they're not all together. We know the two prisoners are here because it's where the trackers are signalling from but the other signal could be either Virgil or the spy," Alan's grin was receding from his lips when the frown began pulling at his forehead. "Two of them are in a room at the front of the building, on the north side and the third one is on the south side. Oh… hold it, that third one is on the move."

"John's right, there'd be four body signals if the spy was here." Gordon didn't want to think about the possibility that the signals might be the two remaining prisoners and the agent from the recording. He didn't even want to consider that Virgil might not be there. "That means they're probably still holding Virgil and we have to assume that they're armed, or Virgil would have tried to escape. It's too dangerous to just go barging in there." He frowned irresolute, logic and his heart told him conflicting information, "they'd kill him."

"At least we know he's not dead already," John looked towards the silver lining but Gordon just glared at his nonchalant tone of voice. He knew John was far from nonchalant deep inside but comments like that, practical as they were, weren't exactly helping the atmosphere in the cockpit.

"We don't know anything for sure," Alan reminded them, "we're assuming it's Virgil in there. For all we know it could be a group of squatters or…." he trailed off when both his brother's turned to him and he realised that wasn't what they wanted to hear either, "something," he finished, swallowing hard.

"Okay," John turned the subject of conversation back to situation and ignored his younger brother. "Gordon, land at the airbase but be careful. Wait for Scott to get there before you do anything."

"I can see Scott," Alan reported, peering down through the large windscreen to the ground, as it appeared to rise up to meet them, "he's pulling onto the airstrip now."

"I'll let him and Base know what you've found," John reached forward to his control panel in order to end the conversation. "Good work, guys."

"Thanks, John," their reply was in unison but the glint in Gordon's eye told John his aquanaut brother was thanking him for a whole lot more than the compliment. His older brother spent a lot of his time, once a rescue operation was underway, keeping people calm and focused. And it wasn't always the victims.

XxxxX

Virgil was aware of a shuddering sensation and forced his eyes open, coming nose to nose with Luke's fretful appearance. He realised that the younger man had been shaking him and that he must've fallen asleep again. Damn, he was determined he wasn't going to do that but somehow he must've succumbed to his body's fatigue.

"Gee, that was quick," he mumbled as he blinked his vision into focus and tried to sit up. He'd slouched against the desk during his doze.

Luke heaved a sigh and sat down next to him on the floor, "God, don't do that to me," he growled, "I thought you weren't going to wake up."

Virgil frowned, unaware he'd been asleep either that long or that deep. He turned his attention to remembering where Luke had gone. "Did you get through to John?"

"Ah," Luke grimaced and pulled his legs so as he was sat under them, "Good news is I got through, bad news is we were cut off."

"Cut off?" Virgil's frown deepened, "How?"

"The radio had an anti-theft device. I'd barely got three words out before it died on me," he looked up at Virgil, sadness contained in his eyes. "Sorry," Virgil began to shake his head but then stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, it felt like his brain was floating in a bowl of water inside his skull and he'd just caused a tidal wave. Luke saw his attempt to deny the comment and then the subsequent pain. "Maybe I should get you an ambulance or something, if I started walking I'm bound to come across someone who'll help me."

"No!" Virgil exclaimed. "No, you can't. They'd ask too many questions, I'm fine," he opened an eye, hesitant but at the same time wanting to prove to Luke he was okay, "there, see? I'm fine." The insistence in his tone was belied by a growl from his stomach as he tried to contain the nausea. Luke wasn't convinced. "It's just a mild concussion, that's all." Virgil assured him, watching as Luke shrugged and his expression changed, 'suit yourself' written all over it. Virgil blinked and when he opened his eyes, Luke had moved to sit alongside him, his back resting up against the desk. "What did John say?"

"I told you," Luke scowled at him, his tone snapped, "we got cut off."

"Yeah," Virgil tried to cover his irritation, of course, they'd already had this conversation. "But what exactly did John say? How long were you talking?"

Luke took a deep breath, sensing Virgil's frustration and trying not to show his aggravation. "Not long," he began. "He answered the call, I told him we needed help, then we got cut off," he shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out, palm up, in a gesture of helplessness.

"Well, if you were on the line for long enough, he should be able to trace the call," Virgil thought aloud. "You didn't tell him who you were?"

"No!" Luke exclaimed, irritation beginning to show. "I just told you! We got cut off!"

"Okay, okay," Virgil sagged against the desk. "I'm sorry. Look, they'll be able to track us, they'll come, we just have to sit tight and wait." He hoped he was right and that Luke had been on the line long enough for John to get a trace.

"And you're sure they'll help me too?" Luke asked, uneasy at the prospect and still needing reassurance that Virgil wouldn't back down on what he said. "You said they would," his tone was almost accusing.

"Don't worry," Virgil tried to stay calm in the face of his hostility, "we'll work something out, you won't have to go back, I promise." He paused. "Just wait, trust me, they'll be here," Virgil forced himself to sound more confident, he knew his brothers would never desert him but he hoped they'd realised where he was, Luke's unsuccessful radio call wasn't much to go on…

Virgil shifted in his position, the bottom of his spine had gone numb and he was beginning to feel pins and needles in his fingers. He watched Luke, who sat alongside him playing with the edge of his shirt. The silence wasn't awkward it just wasn't inviting either. There was a tension in the air that neither of them could do anything to relieve.

"Tell me who Foster is," Virgil said as he turned his hands over in his lap. He needed the sound of Luke's voice to stop himself from drifting and he hoped Luke realised it was a request and not an order. He began to wiggle his fingers so as to keep the circulation moving, Luke had done a good job of bandaging his wrists but the blood was seeping through. A lot slower than before but still coming nonetheless.

"Foster?" Luke frowned for a moment, pulled from his thoughts, and then he remembered their earlier conversation. "Oh yeah, Foster. He's the Number One. The Boss. He's in charge of the facility. Some of the guys say he's a special agent with loads of different identities and everything, but I don't know, it all sounds a bit far fetched if you ask me. He's hardcore though," Luke raised an eyebrow, seriously. "He's got a reputation for being a piece of work, especially with the women."

"Hold on a second," Virgil's mind was still a little slow on the uptake, "you're telling me there were women in that place too?"

"Yeah," Luke nodded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Different wing to us but same principle, no family, no home as such. It's the ideal way to make the taxpayers' day, isn't it?" He sighed. "You ask most of the general public and they'll tell you bringing back the death sentence is the way forward, they don't have a clue. They make their judgements from their cosy little houses, with their fancy cars and their perfect little lives, they wouldn't know what it's like inside. Yet, they've got what they all want. That place, it is a death sentence. In fact, it's worse than a death sentence." He laughed and shook his head, "Ironic really, they've got what they want but they don't even know about the place."

"I'm sure there's plenty of people out there who would disagree with what they're doing, Luke," Virgil swallowed again but his mouth was dry and it didn't really do anything. "Just because you've broken the law, doesn't mean you shouldn't be treated humanely. I just don't understand how they could get away with something like this," Virgil commented. "Not in this day and age."

"Well," Luke sighed and moved so as he was comfortable, "I don't suppose it's that difficult if you have the right…" he searched for the right word, "influences."

"Influences?" Virgil tried to laugh but the smoke still aggravating his lungs caused it to sound more like a wheezed cough. "Don't tell me this Foster guy drives an Aston Martin and likes his Martini shaken not stirred?" his attempt to lighten the mood wasn't successful.

Luke looked at him and raised an eyebrow, reminding Virgil of John when Gordon had cracked a particularly lame joke. "There's a lot of things going on in this country that people don't know about. It's happened before, where there's great power, there's usually great corruption. That's what my Grandfather used to say," Luke's tone was serious and as much as the conspiracy idea didn't sit well with Virgil, he had to admit that in this instance it was plausible.

Virgil saw his opportunity to keep the conversation ticking and wondered just what else was going on behind closed doors, "How high up do you think this goes?"

He felt Luke shrug beside him and tried not to tense when their shoulders brushed together, "It's got to go pretty high for them to get away with so much. Someone in the cabinet's on the inside, they have to be. It's just a question of who."

"As high as the President, umm …. I mean Prime Minister?" Virgil asked, still concentrating on flexing his hands. As his fingers brushed against each other, the sensation of pins and needles continued. He needed the pain as much as he needed the conversation to remind him he was still alive.

"Nah," Luke dismissed the idea with a shake of the head, "he couldn't organise a kids tea party, it must be in the job description. There's always someone in the background pulling his strings, my money's on the Home Secretary." Virgil raised an eyebrow, he didn't really know much about British politics so let Luke do most of the talking. "She's always spouting all this crap about Criminal Justice Reforms, she wants to bring back the death sentence too. Believe me, this is right up her street."

"Surely, people must realize what's going on, you can't just disappear," Virgil frowned, he risked a glance down to where his wrists laid in his lap. The blood wasn't darkening the off-white dressings so quickly and he hoped that meant the bleeding had come close to stopping again.

"Don't be naïve, Virgil, this is the government, they make people disappear for a living," Luke replied, his tone bitter and harsh, he reached a hand up to rub over his face. Virgil tried not to appear startled by the sudden movement.

Virgil wasn't sure what to say to that and again they lapsed into silence. The wounded man watched his companion carefully. Luke let his head rest against the desk and puffed his chest out to exhale long, deep breaths several times. He was restless and Virgil couldn't blame him. Luke was forced to rely on his trust as much as he was forced to rely on Luke's and it wasn't making for a comfortable atmosphere. The tension in the air only seemed to increase with every passing second, as if the time delay was some kind of damning evidence that Virgil wasn't trustworthy. Luke tapped his fingers, shuffled against the desk and, on occasion, went back to pulling threads from his shirt. He didn't speak a word but, for Virgil, his actions said it all.

The silence had become oppressive as Luke's nervous movements increased. The more Virgil felt himself relax as unconsciousness beckoned, the more agitated Luke seemed to become. Jolted by movement, Virgil had to open his eyes to see what was going on, making him realise that at some point he must have closed them. He was silently grateful for Luke's timing.

Blinking to clear his vision and allow himself to focus in the dark, he watched as Luke reached down to his shoe and took it off. Lifting up the insole where it had been cut away to reveal a hollow compartment, he pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper.

Virgil allowed him a few moments just to stare at it before he voiced his thoughts. "What's that?" Luke jumped and turned to face him with accusing eyes. "If you don't mind my asking," Virgil added, afraid that he would be told it was none of his business. He could tell from the way Luke cradled the scrap of thick paper though, that it was important to him and probably private too.

"I thought you were asleep," Luke's tone of voice was curt, almost sharp and he tipped the corner of the paper to one side to hide it from Virgil's gaze. Luke took a few moments and then bit his lip. Coming to a decision, he turned his hands so as Virgil could see that it was a photograph.

It was an old digital photograph with crumbled edges and deep folds that had warped the picture. Virgil looked down at the image to see two men stood together, one slightly older and taller than the other. He recognised the younger man as Luke but the older man was a mystery. The figure was stood with his arm draped around Luke's shoulders and his smile was full of exhilaration. It reminded Virgil of the photograph that adorned his studio at home, the one Scott had taken after Gordon had won his medal. Virgil's expression was identical to the one on the older man's face, exhibiting that same pride in his brother's achievements.

"Is that Ben?" Virgil asked, glancing up at Luke for a reply. Luke shuffled about on the floor, clearly uncomfortable at the question but he nodded a yes. He didn't speak to begin with, he just let Virgil look but after a while, he folded the picture neatly and replaced it in his shoe.

"I didn't mean to pry," Virgil's tone was apologetic. "He was very proud of you."

"He wouldn't be proud if he could see me now," Luke mumbled and hung his head.

Virgil got the impression he was ashamed, "I can't ever imagine not feeling proud of my brothers, no matter what they did, they'd still be my brothers." His attempts to reassure Luke resulted in a nod of the head and so he went on, "The second youngest, Gordon, he's always playing jokes and sometimes he takes it a step too far." Virgil smiled, becoming wistful as he was carried away in the memory, "He's done things in the past that have made me mad, embarrassed me maybe, but I've never felt ashamed of him."

Luke smiled, grateful for the reassurance. The repressive silence returned and they sat quietly for a few moments, both of them, deep in thought. Virgil could feel himself slipping back towards unconsciousness without Luke's voice anchoring him to reality.

In a sudden flash of movement, Luke swallowed and turned to face him. Virgil watched the play of emotions on his face, apprehension and then resolve. It was almost as if he wanted to ask but didn't want to compromise the safe distance they'd established.

"What?" Deep down Virgil was pleading with him to talk, to say anything.

Luke hesitated and then shrugged, "Who's Scott?" The question took Virgil by surprise and Luke explained further, "When you were coming round before, you thought I was Scott."

"Scott," Virgil mused, taking a few moments to pull himself back together. He was back to pondering the same dilemma regarding Luke's sincerity but he'd already made the decision to trust him, now he had to stand by it. "Scott's my brother," the words were slow in forming and his mouth felt dry but he pushed them out.

Luke nodded, "I'm sure I recognise that name," he muttered, more to himself than Virgil. "I've heard it before." He racked his brains trying to fathom its familiarity but then turned back to Virgil. "He's your older brother? I thought maybe John was…" he trailed off, waiting an explanation.

Hazy confusion cleared as Virgil tried to focus. "Scott's my older brother, not John," he confirmed. The thirst was almost unbearable and he tried to swallow again but it was no use.

Luke frowned harder, trying to place where he'd heard the name used and then a memory flashed through his mind. Surfacing from the burrowing machine, the doors swished open just as he'd heard voices, "But, Scott…" and then, after the hydraulics had finished their work, in the deafening silence that had followed there was a different voice, "Alan! Keep still and be on your guard!" It all made so much sense now. The depth of sentiment during the brief conversation Luke had witnessed just before they'd made their escape. The play of unconcealed emotion on Virgil's face when he thought Scott might have been there.

"Oh, God," Luke exclaimed as a gush of air escaped him, "Scott was there, wasn't he? He's the dark haired one from the video link." Virgil opened his eyes long enough to hold Luke's gaze and convey everything that needed to be conveyed. "And Alan too… so the other one, he was Gordon. Oh my god, you all joined International Rescue, didn't you?" He didn't really need an answer, the question was rhetorical but Virgil gave him a weary nod.

Virgil smiled, "We are International Rescue, Luke," he blinked. "That's how I know they'll come for us, they won't leave me, we're family."

"It all makes so much sense now," Luke was in awe, it was like a jigsaw he didn't even know he'd been completing had all fallen into place. "The way they were all so anxious when we came out of your burrowing machine, I put it down to you being close, y'know, as a team, but you're much closer than that…. you're a family," he was still struggling to get his head around it when Virgil heard the faint murmurings of a familiar roar. "And when you were talking to Scott on the video link, he was so worried, so concerned…"

"Shh!" Virgil hushed him so as he could make out the rumbling that was getting louder with every slow second. He was secretly afraid that it might be his mind playing wicked tricks on him so he waited for conformation. "Can you hear that?" he asked, listening hard.

Luke frowned, "Hear what?"

"Two," Virgil began to nod as the sound intensified and the rumbling in the distance could be distinguished as engines. "I'd know those engines anywhere," somehow, despite everything, a grin managed to form on his face, "it's Thunderbird Two. They're here!"

"They're here?" Luke asked, his eyes lighting up with hope as the sound of the mighty engines penetrated his hearing. He stumbled onto his knees with every intention to move to the window in order to check. As if the increasing roar of the engines wasn't evidence enough.

There was a clatter as Luke pushed himself to his feet and Virgil started, he looked down at the source of the noise and stared in disbelief. Frowning for a few seconds, he needed the time to absorb what his blurry vision was telling him, right there on the floor, not a metre away, cold and unassuming, was the origin of the undignified clang; his gun.

Virgil's eyes flicked back up to Luke as, still, the sounds of Thunderbird Two's engines increased, dulled only by the sound proofing of the building. The last dregs of adrenaline his body could muster began to pump through his system as his brain worked over time to come to a conclusion. Luke held his gaze, panic in his eyes and a clear uncertainty as to what would happen next. A few moments of silence passed during which both men became unwilling to accept what their brains were telling them.

Then suddenly came the moment of decision. Virgil held a hand out for the gun but his ribs protested and Luke easily beat him to retrieve the weapon.

"What are you doing, Luke?" Virgil asked, caution in his tone. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to push the issue of trust. "Where did you get that?"

Luke's face contorted into a pained expression, "I'm sorry, Virgil," he shook his head. "I'm so sorry but I had to take it. Billy still had it in his hand when I went to check on him," he began to explain, holding the gun without much concern, in his uninjured hand. "I just needed some security."

"Security?" Virgil's gaze was set on the gun. All of a sudden, the drowsiness of fatigue evaporated and though his thoughts weren't clear, as such, they weren't overly muddled either. "I don't understand," he tried to stay calm.

"I needed to make sure," Luke told him, waving the gun in the air. "I'm putting everything on the line here. I had to have a back up plan." He was beginning to get harassed, placing his weight from one foot to the other as sweat began to line his forehead.

"So, what was the plan?" Virgil felt himself breaking out in a sweat, despite the fact that he actually felt cold, "Hold me at gunpoint, then what? How far would you have gone?"

"I'd never hurt you!" Luke shook his head in vehement denial at Virgil's insinuation.

"But you don't me trust me either, do you?" Virgil asked, holding Luke's erratic gaze and trying to instil some calm in him. Luke sighed and then continued his pacing, holding the gun unsteadily with a limp wrist. "Luke, do me a favour, stop waving that thing around and listen to me," Virgil implored him, "we're almost there now. They're right outside so …." he paused, building up the energy to hold his hand up a little. His weakened wrist buckled but he managed to hold his arm out. "Give me the gun, Luke. Give me the gun and we'll forget this ever happened."

"I can't," Luke's bottom lip trembled as he began to shake his head. "I can't, I'm sorry, Virgil. I trust you, I really do but you can't guarantee my survival," he gestured to the gun, "this can."

"Luke…" Virgil swallowed and took in a deep breath, as deep as his battered lungs would allow. Using the table he was leaning against, he did his best to pull himself to his feet. It was a struggle, his injured arms refused to hold his weight and his legs felt like thin bits of string, not the muscular, sturdy limbs that supported him during his early morning runs. "Luke, it'll be okay, I promise you," he wheezed, struggling for much needed breath.

"You can't promise that, no-one can," Luke shook his head.

"I can promise that I'll look after you, I'll make sure you're okay," Virgil could see Luke was undecided. He'd never really had faith that taking the gun would get him anywhere, that much was clear, and any other day Virgil wouldn't have had a problem in retrieving the gun with more physical methods. Today wasn't an ordinary day though and it was important to Virgil that he was proved right about Luke's character, that he was worthy of the trust Virgil had placed in him. Right now, Luke was just confused and scared, Virgil told himself. "You said earlier that you just wanted to do the right thing," Virgil went on, "my brothers have come here to help us, do you think waving a gun in their face is doing the right thing?"

"No, of course not," Luke's reply came without hesitation, "and I wouldn't… I wasn't even going to use it, not unless you went back on your word."

"You know I wouldn't do that," Virgil replied, his tone confident that Luke would agree. Sure enough, Luke nodded his accord.

"I'm sorry, Virgil," Luke's eyes were red as he took a few steps closer to where Virgil held his hand out. "I'm so sorry, I never meant…"

"It's okay," Virgil tried to soothe him but his gaze rested on the gun. Now in Luke's left hand it shook with all the intensity of his arm and Virgil was concerned that a finger spasm at the wrong time could be lethal for the both of them. "It's okay," he repeated, "just give me the gun."

Luke was millimetres from dropping the gun into Virgil's hand, when a voice startled both of them.

"Hello, Mathews," the British accent sneered, firm and demanding in its crisp tones.

Luke spun round, and pointed the gun still in his hand at the man who'd materialised from the shadows. There was no hesitation as he brought both hands up to steady his shaking and took steps to put himself between Virgil and the mystery assailant. Watching the drama, Virgil could only conclude from this man's tone of voice and Luke's reaction, that the new arrival couldn't be a good thing… …