Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. I really appreciate it. Whirlgirl, and Deb L, I can't reply personally, but thank you both for the kind words.

This chapter was going to be part of a longer one but seemed to work better by itself. Plus it means that I've got another chapter ready to go in a few days. It's good to feel that the story is moving on at last.

Grandma brought coffee into the lounge.

"Where's mine?" Gordon asked as she handed John his cup.

"You don't usually have any before your swim," Grandma told him.

"Swim?" Gordon stared at her incredulously. "Grandma, no disrespect, but in case you haven't noticed, we're having a bit of a crisis here. Swimming's the last thing on my mind."

"Says Gordon Tracy, International Rescue Aquanaut." Grandma stood her ground, eyeing her grandson intently. "But Gordon Tracy, part-time employee of Tracy Industries, full-time playboy... well, he wouldn't have any worries bad enough to stop him enjoying his daily workout, would he?"

It was John who responded first, in a rare gesture of affection, reaching out to squeeze the woman's hand. "You're right, Grandma. Gordon, we assume we're being watched, right? So get yourself down to the pool."

"But..." Gordon tailed off as he considered this. Life had to appear to be going on as normal on Tracy Island. After all, what were they supposed to know of some criminal's attempts to link them to International Rescue? Even so, he'd never felt less like swimming and it wasn't as though he was supposed to be totally without worry. "Even if I knew nothing about IR I'd be stressing over Virg. I might not feel like a workout."

"But what could you do to help him?" John said. "No, Grandma's right. We need to make things look as normal as possible here. You've said yourself that being in the water helps you think. Maybe you'll get some ideas."

"Maybe." Gordon didn't sound convinced. But then, sitting in the lounge hadn't exactly proved inspirational, either. "You'll call me if Sahara gets in touch?"

John sighed. "And give us away in an instant? Sorry, Gords. Blissful ignorance, that's the deal for you."

Grumbling, Gordon disappeared to get into his swimming gear.

"Thanks, Grandma," John said. "You okay?"

"I'm worried about Virgil - but then when aren't I?" the old lady said. "I worry about all of you."

"Well, if things don't work out you won't have to in future," John told her. "There won't be any more rescues."

"Well, let's hope they do work out. I'll take the worry over a world without you boys and Jeff to look after it any day."

With that, Grandma took herself off to the kitchen wondering if their enemies possessed any scanning devices as sophisticated as the ones Brains had designed for International Rescue. Well, if anyone was watching, all they'd see her doing would be the usual chores. But like the others she'd be doing her best to think of anything that might help. John clearly had something in mind, but she knew better than to disturb him by asking for an explanation. The string of codes she'd glimpsed on his computer screen had certainly left her none the wiser.

John did indeed have an idea. Brains had given him some assistance, but the genius was hard at work finishing off the repairs to Thunderbird One and the astronaut didn't want to disturb him too much, so he was making slower progress than he'd have liked. When the radio spluttered into life and the familiar tones of the mail plane pilot came through, shattering his concentration, he swore under his breath, knowing that he'd have to go and meet the plane himself - Kyrano was hard at work out in the gardens and under normal circumstances wouldn't dream of meeting the plane covered in dirt.

"Tracy Island responding," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray his frustration. "Hey, Tony, how's it going?"

"Better for me than for you, I'm guessing," the man said. "Virgil's all over the news. I can't believe it. I hope your dad's sorting those idiots in London out."

"He's doing his best," John said. "But we're all worried."

"I bet you are. It's crazy. You should have been happy today - that book you ordered's finally here."

John had indeed been desperately awaiting the arrival of a rare first edition astronomy book, something he'd been trying to track down for several months. Now, it didn't seem important, and he told the pilot exactly that.

"I know, I- whoah!"

"Tony? What's going on?"

The pilot's usual laid-back tone was missing when he finally replied, adrenaline still clearly coursing through him. "I nearly hit something. A drone by the look of it. Nothing legal, either. Too small to show up on the radar and there's no warning signal coming from it. John, you guys aren't running some kind of experiment again, are you?"

"At a time like this? There's nothing of ours up there." John could barely contain his excitement. Maybe the pilot had just found the device that their enemies were using to monitor events on Tracy Island. And if they knew where it was, maybe they could do something to disable it. Or maybe not, since that would warn their enemies they were on to them. Still, there were other possibilities...

"Press, maybe?" Tony was calmer now. "You guys are too isolated to make it worth their while to come out here, but it looks like someone's keeping an eye on you all the same. Or could it be the police? Though you'd think they'd try to avoid bringing down innocent mail planes..."

John knew exactly who it was, but he couldn't tell the pilot that. Instead he offered a few choice comments on the subject of over-enthusiastic reporters. "Can you give me the coordinates?" he asked.

"Sure, now I know where to look." The pilot rattled off the necessary information.

"Thanks. You okay to land?"

"Sure. ETA two minutes."

"You got time for a break?" John asked. "Grandma's made cake - and I could use a favour."

"Sure. I'll do anything I can do to help - especially if my reward is some of Mrs Tracy's baking."

Grandma kept Tony entertained whilst John slipped down to Brains' lab. Fifteen minutes later he was back, a tiny device that International Rescue had named 'the bullet' clutched in his hand. The device could get through cracks and crevices and send back information - or transmit something to another source. It was invaluable on rescues where people were trapped and the larger pieces of equipment couldn't penetrate.

"When you get near that drone, let this go," John said. "Press this button here-" he indicated the one he meant, "-and just drop it out of the window. It'll latch onto the drone and the press will be off our back. At least, they will here..." He rolled his eyes in the direction of the TV screen which, although muted, still displayed the news feed of events in London. The ransom demanded for Prince Louis had just been made public and the reporter standing outside the Tower of London was practically salivating as she outlined the history of the famous Kohinoor diamond.

"No problem," Tony said. "I'm glad to help. Tell Virgil I'm looking forward to seeing him again - all those orders for paint and music scores pretty much keep me in business."

"I will," John said. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Tony finished his coffee, accepted the large slice of cake Grandma had wrapped up for him, then headed back to his plane. Five minutes later he was up in the air, and a few minutes after that, John was watching the feed from the drone that the bullet had tapped into. He was also tracing the destination to which the images were being sent. With a bit of luck that would give him Sahara's location, although given that the drone had carried the insignia of the General's Air Force, he thought it more likely that Sahara's partner would be picking up the information. Well, he'd be glad to get a fix on the location of any of his adversaries. But what was really important was that he thought he would be able to tap into the feed - and if he could do that, he could control what was being shown, loop old material through, and so hide what was really happening on Tracy Island. If it worked, they could launch the 'birds without detection - and then Sahara would have no grounds to suspect the Tracys of any involvement with International Rescue next time the organisation was needed.

He felt optimistic for the first time in days.