As always, a big, big thank you to everyone giving me feedback on this. Bee

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was strange being the only brother left on the island...

Virgil couldn't remember any other time it had been just him, but for the next few hours that was how it was going to be. It had felt wrong watching Thunderbird Three launch knowing that her usual co-pilot - Scott - wasn't inside. He couldn't help feeling nervous about the flight - Tin-Tin knew what she was doing but Gordon rarely ventured into space. Jeff had debated long and hard whether to send him up, clearly not wanting to risk losing two sons in two days, but Alan's increasingly forlorn expression whenever he'd called in from Five had decided him. It wasn't fair to leave the youngest brother alone in space when he was clearly struggling to cope with his grief. Gordon himself had pointed out that since the loss of Four he'd been forced to spend time in the simulators on all the other 'birds, so why not put that practice to some good use. He didn't need to add that he'd feel a whole lot better with his closest brother around, but that just made Virgil feel more alone than ever.

Virgil just couldn't comprehend a world without Scott. From the moment of his birth, his brother had been the biggest constant in his life. John had never been a particularly hands-on big brother - Virgil's earliest memories of his older blond brother tended to involve being stared at thoughtfully by big blue eyes, usually as a precursor to some kind of poke or prod, or the attempted force-feeding of something pretty much guaranteed to make him sick, John's refrain of "I only wanted to see what happened if..." being one of the biggest memories of his early childhood. It seemed John's days of scientific experimentation had pretty much started with Virgil's birth. Scott, on the other hand, had always been there to save him, singing him nursery rhymes - badly - to cheer him up, always looking out for him. His mother had died, his grandmother had only been a visitor to the family home up until that point, his father was distant both physically - you couldn't get further away than the moon when it came down to it - and, especially after his mother's death, emotionally. Only Scott had been there for him all his life.

And now he was gone.

Virgil tried to get his head round the idea and found he couldn't. How could Scott be dead when the rest of the world carried on as normal? How could he carry on? He would, he knew that - when IR had first been mooted the brothers had discussed the risks and what might happen in the worst case scenario. Scott had been the most vocal in his insistence that the risks were worth it and that if anything happened to him, the others were to carry on and live their lives without the crippling grief their father had experienced after their mother's death. Virgil had agreed, had said exactly the same about his own death if it should ever happen. But that didn't make it any easier to do as his brother asked.

Life would go on, but Virgil would always feel as if a big part of it was missing.

He turned back to his laptop to check out the next step in the construction of New Four - a task he'd lost all enthusiasm for - only to be distracted by the beeping of his wrist comm.

"Hi John."

"Hey, Virg. How's it going?"

Virgil didn't bother with the truth, although he appreciated his brother's call, understanding that John would have realised how lonely he was feeling right now. "Okay. How about you? How are things in London?"

"It was weird spending the night in Penny's apartment without her," John admitted. "I'm heading off to the airport now to meet up with the team from MI5. We should be at Sir Reuben's in about four hours. Wish me luck."

Virgil did.

"Do me a favour," John went on. "Give Parker a call later, will you? He's taking this hard. He could do with someone to talk to."

"He's there with you?"

"Yeah. No one knows about Penny, remember. He didn't want to let something slip to the rest of the servants at Foxley-Heath so he came up here. He's in a terrible state, Virg. It's freaking me out to be honest. I'm not so good at comforting people."

"I'll check in with him," Virgil promised. He didn't think he'd be much use in cheering Parker up, but it might help them both to talk to someone who was suffering in the same way. "Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you don't think Scott's alive, but-"

"Virg..."

"No, I understand how unlikely it is. But don't dismiss any clues just because you believe he's dead."

"I won't."

Virgil got the feeling John was merely humouring him. He wasn't going to get into a fight about it now, though, trusting his brother not to miss anything important, whether it fitted in with his theories or not.

"And find something to prove that Sir Reuben took Four. Make him pay for it."

"I'll do my best, Virg. Promise."

This time Virgil knew John meant what he said.

The brothers smiled at each other for a moment then John disconnected. Virgil allowed himself a few minutes to wallow in his misery before telling himself firmly that Scott would want him to get New Four finished. He threw himself into his work, glad for something to take his mind off things.


John hadn't said much to the team from MI5. They didn't know he was Scott's brother, believing him to be working for the American military. As they flew out to the island the British men discussed their case, John occasionally chipping in with some comment about Scott's mission. But mostly he just kept a close ear on the conversation just in case there should be some mention of Penny's links to International Rescue. But, although a few people in MI5 were aware of this, along with the theft of Four, these men clearly hadn't been privy to such knowledge. As far as they were aware, they were simply looking into the murder of their old boss and the suspicious deaths of the agents sent to investigate. John hadn't been entirely happy to learn that Sir Reuben had been told the true purpose of their visit, along with the real identity of Lola, but he'd had to accept that they'd needed some legitimate grounds for their search and that MI5 would be unlikely to be interested in the death of some random woman from Kansas. John wouldn't have objected to an illegal search, but he supposed the others had rules to follow. As for Sir Reuben, if he was guilty of the murders, he'd be well-prepared for an interrogation, forewarned or not.

They were met by a young woman who appeared business-like and efficient as she welcomed them to RMC's research facility and escorted them into the house and along to a large office. She chatted to them amiably as she served them coffee, informing them that she herself had worked for MI5 just a few years ago and that she, like her employer, had been horrified to learn of the death of one of the agency's top operatives.

"Sir Reuben was surprised to learn you'd sent agents here," she told them. "He was quite hurt to think MI5 might suspect him of anything."

No one said anything in response to this.

"He'll be with you in a moment," she told them before leaving the room. Not that the men could do anything other than sit there, not while a large man whose bearing screamed ex-army was stationed at the door, watching them intently.

The meeting with Sir Reuben went just as everyone, whichever side they were on, had expected. As Sahara had indicated, the man insisted he knew nothing about the murder of his old friend.

"I must be losing my touch," he told them. "I had no idea Scott and Lola were agents. Though why you should want to go to such lengths to investigate me..."

He shook his head and sighed. "I suppose you did what you had to do. But Randolph and I were friends. I'd do anything to find whoever killed him. Anything."

"So Lady Penelope's death was just an accident?" one of the men asked.

"Indeed. She and Scott announced their intention to leave for London. At the time I believed their story about wanting to meet up with my nephew to discuss their business deal. But now... Well, I can only assume they'd concluded their investigations and had no further need to stay here."

"How do you know about the business deal?" John asked suddenly. "The only person who was supposed to know about that was your nephew."

For the first time Sir Reuben faltered. He'd been in the process of raising his coffee cup to his lips but he put it back down without taking a sip.

"Freddy told me," Sahara said quickly. "I felt it was my duty to tell Sir Reuben."

"And I'm very grateful, my dear," Sir Reuben said. "Yes, it didn't surprise me. My nephew has these wild ideas from time to time. I was disappointed of course - I'd hoped for great things from my company's association with Mr Hackenbacker, but it wasn't to be."

"They didn't leave the island because you'd discovered the truth?" John asked.

"Oh, but I didn't know the truth, did I?" Sir Reuben pointed out. "Not the real truth. Scott and Lola agents... I still find it hard to believe."

"Where's your nephew?" one of the other agents asked. "I'd like to speak to him."

"He's still in London," Sahara said.

"Where? When we sent someone to check on him his flat was empty. He didn't come back last night."

"That's not unusual for Freddy," Sahara told them. "He's probably with some girl. He'll be back eventually."

"If you do hear from him..."

"I'll be sure to let you know. But I'm sure Freddy won't be able to tell you anything."

There was silence for a moment before the discussion moved on to the large quantities of RMC weaponry which had managed to find their way into the hands of terrorists over the last few years. John let his mind drift, wondering what was going on with Freddy. From all Scott had said about him, the man might well have decided to take a few days off with a girlfriend. But he couldn't help thinking it was all a little convenient. He didn't trust Sir Reuben one bit.

It was so hard, he thought, sitting here with the man who'd most likely killed his brother and his friends. He suddenly felt terribly tired. Far from wanting to grab Sir Reuben by the throat and choke the life out of him - the idea which had kept him going ever since he'd left Tracy Island - he just wanted to get as far away from him as he possibly could.

"I believe you wanted a tour of our facilities," Sahara said, rising to her feet.

John dragged himself back to the matter in hand and followed two of the MI5 agents out into the corridor. One man stayed behind with a few more questions for Sir Reuben and, as John knew, the task of copying whatever records were held on the man's computer - if he got the chance. He'd also place a bug in the room. John wasn't sure that Sir Reuben, however out of practice in the art of espionage he claimed to be, wouldn't find it easily enough - it seemed likely he'd scan his office as soon as the visitors were gone. No, the MI5 listening device would be found soon enough. But the bug John had planted... that was International Rescue technology and far harder to detect.

There was little to interest John as he followed Sahara around the complex. He could see more exciting facilities and experiments in his own home. But when they came to a room full of sophisticated computer equipment he knew that the woman who ignored their presence as she stared at the screen, occasionally typing in some complex code, must have been the one to mislead him so effectively at the undersea rescue and so set up this whole nightmare. He made a silent promise to get back at her, wishing he could get his hands on the equipment and prove RMC's involvement once and for all. But the brief was to observe, not to take action, and he forced himself to stay calm.

"Sir?" Sahara's voice brought him back to reality and, realising the rest of the group had already left the room, he followed them away from the work area and along to the living quarters. When they were shown into Brains' room he found himself overcome with emotion. All the man's possessions were there - at least, everything he wouldn't have taken with him on his daytrip to London.

"He wasn't leaving with Lady Penelope and Mr Tracy?" he asked. Mr Tracy... it was killing him to refer to his brother so impersonally.

"No," Sahara said. "I don't know why."

"Maybe our agents hadn't finished here after all," one of the other men commented.

"What do you want us to do with Hiram's things?" Sahara asked, ignoring the comment. "I could have them packed up ready for you to take away with you. Maybe Mr Tracy - senior, I mean - would want them."

John thought for a moment. He'd promised Virgil not to overlook anything and if Brains had been given any warning that he was under threat, he might have been able to leave a message. But, for all the room looked undisturbed, he could pretty much guarantee it had been thoroughly searched and he doubted there would be anything to find. Still, he didn't want these people keeping his friend's possessions...

"We'll take them. Thank you."

"They'll be ready when you leave," Sahara assured him. "Now then, if you'll follow me..."

They followed her, increasingly convinced they'd find nothing to help with the investigation.


In the hidden complex, Brains was planning his next move. Unseen by Marcus and under the pretence of typing up his latest findings, he'd composed a lengthy message for Jeff and the boys. It would tell them all they needed to know - if he could only get it to them. Those jammers were a real obstacle. He guessed they were housed in the large metal boxes strategically positioned around Four, but getting to them would be a problem. His natural caution was an asset now - it would be easy to rush into something and reveal his intentions to Marcus. That would be the end for him - and for Scott and Penny. Somehow he had to convince them he was completely obedient, knowing full well that even after he'd got the information to his friends, they'd need time to act on it. There was no quick and easy way out of this for anyone.

Finishing his message with a final assurance that they could hold out for a while longer - but not too long, please - he slipped the data pad back into his pocket.

Rising from his workbench he wasn't surprised when Marcus demanded to know where he was going.

"B-bathroom," he said, blushing a little.

"Hurry it up," Marcus said, turning back to his own work.

Brains made his way past the kitchen, pausing to take a quick look inside. Younger had made himself a sandwich and looked perfectly relaxed, whilst Freddy finished one cigarette, stubbed it out in an overflowing ashtray and lit another. The stress was clearly getting to him.

Sneaking a glance at the laptop, Brains saw the MI5 team were back in Sir Reuben's office. As he watched they shook hands with the man and exited the room. Sir Reuben watched them go then sat back in his chair, clearly deep in thought.

Younger smiled in satisfaction. "Looks like it went well."

Freddy said nothing.

Brains slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He'd missed his chance to get a message to John whilst he was on the island, but, with Alan's watch in his pocket, he no longer felt the same sense of urgency he had a couple of hours ago. Probably better to let John get safely away anyway, he thought. The last thing they needed was another accident or another captive Tracy. He pulled out his data pad and connected it to Alan's watch, replacing it in his pocket, checking in the mirror to make sure the watch couldn't be seen. All he needed to do now was block those jammers without drawing attention to himself. He had an idea - didn't he always? - but he was going to need some help.

Twenty minutes later Thomas returned and Freddy and Eric Younger headed back to the upper level. Marcus was quiet, clearly disappointed that he hadn't had as much fun in taunting his rival as he'd hoped. Brains carried on working for a while before turning to his guard.

"I-it's t-time for Scott's m-medication."

Thomas checked his watch and nodded, escorting Brains back to his room. As was his usual practice he didn't go in, merely closing and locking the door and standing outside. He looked in through the small window, the blind which usually covered it for privacy having been removed when the captives were first locked away.

Scott was dozing but Brains had no hesitation in waking him up. For a start he did need his pain meds, but more importantly, Brains had a job for him.

It took Scott a few minutes to gather himself together enough to listen to Brains' story. Mindful of Thomas's presence he resisted the compulsion to grab his friend and hug him - Brains would have run a mile at such a gesture anyway, usually regarding the Tracys with slight panic when one or the other showed any such brotherly affection.

"You're a genius!" he announced.

Brains shrugged. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard that one before and he still had trouble accepting the compliment.

"I n-need your h-help," he said. "B-but i-if you d-don't want t-to..."

"Brains, I'll do anything, you know I will," Scott said, glad to have the chance to do something other than lie there and sleep. He just hoped it didn't involve too much movement - although he felt a hundred times better than yesterday, he was still in pain even with the medication, and he hadn't managed anything more adventurous than an unsteady lurch to the bathroom since being shut in the room.

Brains quickly explained. Scott was quiet as he thought it over. "Primitive, Brains," he finally said.

"I-I know. I-I'm sorry. I c-can't think of a-any other w-way."

"Me neither." Scott smiled stiffly. He knew his captors weren't going to be pleased. But it had to be done.

"Thirty minutes?" he suggested. "It'll give me time to get things ready."

Brains agreed. "G-good l-luck."

"You too."

Brains headed to the door, knocking on it to get Thomas's attention. With a final smile at Scott, he left the room and made his way back to the lab, closely followed by his guard.

Brains did his best not to keep looking at his watch but it was hard. He was relieved when Professor Franklin ambled up for a chat about some fascinating discovery he'd made during his investigation of Four's propulsion system. Anything for some distraction.

A sudden series of bangs and shouts shattered the quiet of the lab. Brains, along with Marcus and the Professor, looked up sharply.

"Sounds like your friend," Marcus said. He watched as Thomas disappeared in the direction of the living quarters. Brains slipped a hand into his pocket, checking the cable linking his data pad and the wrist comm was still attached. He moved a finger to one of the buttons of the watch and waited.

Thomas charged down the corridor. As he ran past the room where the woman was kept he noted that she'd appeared at the window looking surprised and concerned. But he didn't have time to give her more than a passing thought, pulling out his keys and unlocking Scott's door.

The banging on the door stopped when he barged into the room. Scott was leaning heavily against the wall, clutching his damaged ribs and breathing harshly. He fixed Thomas with a feeble glare as he staggered away from him.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Thomas asked.

"I need to get out of here," Scott told him. "It's driving me crazy being shut up in here. I want to see Penny."

"You're not going anywhere. Shut up and lie down." Satisfied that there was nothing for him to worry about, Thomas turned to leave, only to be hit in the back by a well-aimed shoe. He turned back to Scott in annoyance.

"Give up, Tracy. You'd be better off saving your energy."

"I've got to see Penny! I don't even know if she's still alive. All I've got is your word for it. You could have killed her. You might be doing anything to her. I need to know she's okay."

"She's okay. Now shut up." Thomas turned to leave again, only for the sound of a glass smashing to get his attention again.

"I'm not clearing that up," he said. "It can wait until your friend gets back. If you cut yourself it's your own fault." He indicated Scott's one bare foot.

Scott pushed his bed over, shoved everything off the top of the bedside table, then looked frantically round the room as he tried to find something else to destroy. He was struggling to stay upright now, deathly pale and gasping for breath. But he clearly wasn't going to let the pain stop him from trashing the room. Deciding enough was enough, Thomas stepped forward as Scott picked up a bottle of water Brains had left for him. As Thomas reached out to grab his arm he stumbled backwards. The bottle flew out of his hand, the water shooting out and straight onto the wires of the bedside lamp which Scott had spent the past fifteen minutes fraying with a makeshift blade forged from a toothbrush he'd snapped in half.

The effect was immediate. There was a bright flash and a bang, then the lights went out as the power supply short-circuited. It wasn't just the lights, though. As Brains had anticipated, every piece of electrical equipment in the lower level complex shut down. It only lasted a second, but it was long enough for Brains to do what he had to do. A second later the back-up generator kicked in and everything started working again - except for the bedside lamp. A small flame began to flicker, setting fire to a newspaper which had fallen onto the floor next to the frayed cable.

Thomas threw Scott out into the corridor where he landed in a heap on the floor. Picking him up, Thomas dragged him across to Penny's room as he yelled at Marcus to get a fire extinguisher. Quickly unlocking the door he pushed Scott inside, nearly knocking Penny over, before slamming and locking the door and rushing to help Marcus.

It didn't take long to put the fire out. The security guard and the engineer surveyed the room for a moment.

"I'd better tell Sahara," Thomas finally said.

Marcus watched him go. He wondered if the break in power had been long enough to allow any transmission from Thunderbird Four to get through. He hoped not. He and the Professor had done their best to identify and destroy any transmitters. They'd found two: one obvious, the other hidden away in the inner workings of the engines, and the presence of the jammers was more of a precaution now than anything else. No, he was sure they'd be okay. Even if a signal had got through, the emergency power supply had come on almost instantly and there would surely be no time to trace the source of the transmission. They'd be fine. There was the watch in Franklin's office of course, but the cabinet it had been placed in was lead-lined. There was no chance of any signal getting through from there.

It was a sobering experience, however. No one had really expected Scott to put up a fight, not after the beating he'd taken the day before. He'd be punished severely later, Marcus thought. Maybe he'd get his guinea pig yet.

In the lab Brains removed his hand from his pocket. The message was sent. Now all they had to do was wait for help to arrive.