So I'm rubbish at updating frequently. I'll try and post more than once a week though, to keep to the New Year deadline I set myself.
29. Detained Headway
Elsewhere, same kind of time;
Very much everything was coming together. Like pieces of an eons old puzzle, clicking into place with the precision and ease that only time could allow, his plans fell neatly into order around him. And, what was more; no one seemed any the wiser.
He'd been hustled, none to politely and somewhat forcefully, into giving up his old, original plot by Tracy's unknown guardian angel, but not this time around. He'd shrewdly wormed his way inside the heart of the over inflated braggart's racing team, and left behind a bomb that'd erupted, dragging wrongly accused consequences with it.
Right now, the wretched bastard was paying the price of his own good fortune, and of another's actions, whilst Lanning was sat back, revelling in it all.
What the deceitful, sham-businessman didn't realise was that he had just poured gas on John Tracy's already seriously blazing fire. Which, unfortunately for Lanning, was akin to poking the astronaut with a knife-sharpened stick; guaranteed to get a reaction, and it wasn't likely to be a friendly offer of a meal out with two tickets to the movies.
Tracy Island, continuing on;
Virgil had been right when he thought he'd seen anger burning viciously just beneath the surface of Jeff Tracy's eyes. Behind shaded brown orbs, rage and fury broiled, churning up rational thought and curbed passion into dangerous spikes of action and defiance.
The group that had threatened his sons, as they'd set out to answer a call for aid from Tirana, Albania, seemed to have acted again. Before, the faction had warned of a violent retaliation if International Rescue launched to provide help and relief to the world. And now, they appeared to have fulfilled that ultimatum.
Suspicions that the tanker's plea for help had been nothing but a smoky façade had already surfaced within Jeff's mind, playing with his thoughts and emotions like a red-hot dagger, slashing them open and piercing them in two jagged pieces.
It was too coincidental to believe that the same people as before hadn't planned this attack, but there wasn't enough evidence to prove this was the case.
And then, on top of that, his youngest, Alan, was in danger of being charged with… what? Criminal damage? Attempted murder?
Shaking his greying head a little, Jeff drained the last of his coffee mug. John was back on the comm. conversing simultaneously between Scott, Virgil and his computer in a far away orbit. Data (symbols, letters, numbers and punctuation) filled the screen, changing with each keystroke the astronaut applied. For now he was content to leave his sons to diagnose any problems with Thunderbird Two, as there were other just as pressing matters to be dealing with.
For the second time that evening, the Tracy patriarch found himself easing open the large, glassed doors out on to the balcony, comm. device in hand. Afternoon was pulling itself along grandly, the sun still beating its heavy self down on the world, crushing shadows and loneliness as it went.
Calling up the same number he dialled not long before, Jeff waited patiently as the line connected.
Lady Penelope was still exuding all the grandeur and splendour that she had earlier that day, resplendent in a powder blue ensemble, hair tucked neatly into a side sweep. Smiling generously upon Jeff, moving backgrounds could just about be made out behind the noblewoman.
"Jeff, dearest. I wasn't expecting another call so soon. Not that I'd ever be saddened by unexpected correspondence from you."
Parker, acting upon co-ordinates received not long ago from Brains, had ushered Lady Penelope into FAB-1, and set off, headed towards Greece. The plan was to drive south to the coast of England, before boarding a high-speed ferry destined for northern France. From there, they would load the car onto the new continental passenger train line that would speed them down through France, and into Italy. Greece, their final destination, was just another short boat trip away.
"Glad to hear that, Penny. I was calling to let you know that on their travels, the boys have found themselves at your home. I was hoping you wouldn't mind their intrusion, despite your being away."
The blonde aristocrat shook her head slightly, covering the brief confusion and slight worry that had graced her delicate, porcelain features.
"Of course, it's not a trouble, Jeff. Are they all well, though, the boys? I was hoping they might drop by, but never imagined they would reach the Manor so quickly."
"They're all fine, although I'm sure they appreciate your concern. They had a slight change of plan, that's all. How is your trip going?" Then, "Hang on a moment, Penny."
Behind Jeff, the balcony doors slid quietly open, catching a little on their runners. Turning, he found John framed in the entrance, the tall astronaut all but reaching the top of the doorway. Clearly, he wanted to speak about something, but Jeff held up a single finger.
"I'll be with you in a moment, John. I just need to finish up here."
His son nearly shrugged his indifference, but caught himself just before doing so, nodding instead. Watching until the doors were re-closed, Jeff looked back to his comm. to find Penelope still waiting, taking the moment to touch up imaginary smudges on her face. Before Jeff could apologise, she said,
"Don't fret, one can never expect to be fully without intrusions when they're busy. Now, where were we…? Oh, my trip! Of course. It's going excellently, thank you. We boarded the trans-continental train some fifteen minutes ago, and are currently whipping past delightful countryside outside of Paris. We should reach Catanzaro, in Italy within a few hours. These new hyper-speed transports remove so much of the tiresome travelling time. I don't know what I'd do without them."
"Well, that's wonderful news. I don't suppose I could impose upon you, could I, Penny, and ask you to run a quick errand for me whilst in the Mediterranean?"
Dimpling a little, Penelope reached up to reposition a stray lock of hair that had fallen from its place.
"It'd be a pleasure, Jeff. Shall I expect Brains to post over any details?"
"I'll have him do it straight away. Thank you so much, Penny. You really are wonderful."
Summoning a becoming blush from somewhere, the blonde grandee brushed aside the compliments before cutting the connection from her end.
Originally, when he'd sent Penny out to Greece, Jeff had expected she'd be needed for surveillance, and maybe a little digging, but nothing more. Now though the ball game had changed, and so were his plans having to. It mattered not however. Lady Penelope would go to the ends of the Earth for him, and his boys; and whatever needed to be done, would be.
For now, there was another incoming call waiting (an unknown number) and further contacts to be reached.
Creighton-Ward Manor House, Foxleyheath, out back in Thunderbird Two, same time;
There was something about an engine that was big enough to stand up and stretch in that had always fascinated Virgil. No matter how many times he did maintenance checks and upgrades on his 'bird, he never grew tired of fiddling about with the complex, intricate workings of Thunderbird Two.
Scott however, was a completely different story, and one he was beginning to wear of. For what must have been the third or fourth time, the ex-fighter pilot paused, causing Virgil to halt in their passage towards the rear of the craft, and where the damage was.
"So, you really think Gordon's alright, then?"
Virgil scrutinised Scott carefully for a moment, before sighing. Shaking his head, and re-adjusting the diagnostic equipment pack on his shoulder, he said,
"I think the kid knows better than to screw with his health… and us, Scott." Gesturing for the pair to keep moving, the brown-eyed pilot continued, "He might be frustrated with being left out, but Gordon's not stupid."
Traversing the length of Thunderbird Two took some time, with multiple corridors, keypad locks and recognition scanners to navigate. The inside of the giant craft rang with creaks and groans, the aftermath of the missile destruction, and not so even landing. Warm, amber lighting glowed down the passageways, inviting and foreboding at the same time. The normal, bright white, overhead lights had cut off when Virgil had completely powered down the main generators, leaving the ship running on back up, emergency power sources. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry, and another fire was exactly what they didn't need in the engines.
There were three separate sites/pieces of equipment that needed most urgent investigation, before the rest of the craft was to be checked over for damage. The left engine and VTOL jet could be accessed from within the hulking structure, and should it prove that only simple repairs were required they could be performed there and then. On the other hand, the broken turbo ramjets in the tail fuselage were only approachable from the outside, meaning a difficult climb lay ahead too, without the use of the usual overhead gantries in Two's hanger.
Scott and Virgil halted again, as they reached the entry door to the main engine bay, in the aft section of the aircraft. A final keyed in code and finger print scanner lay before them and as Scott held his digit up against the cool gel of the infrared strip, he said quietly,
"I just… worry about him, that's all, Virge."
The scanner beeped its acceptance of the ID offered, and the gel pad shifted its design to that of illuminated numbers.
Leaning up against the smooth metal wall, watching as Scott pressed down a sequence of buttons (345255; every other digit in pi, you could tell Brains had devised the codes) Virgil shrugged a little.
"We all worry, Scott, but you heard him the other night. He knows things will never be quite the same as they were before his accident. Gordon's more aware than the rest of us put together of the new limitations he has. Trust me."
Before them, the thick metal door slid open, allowing a last film of grey smoke to escape out into the corridor, floating along just below the ceiling level, dancing in pale wisps and breaking apart as it went. Not sparing the gases a second glace, Scott and Virgil ventured in to the engine compartment to inspect the damage.
Hess Memorial Hospital, Indianapolis, around about the same time;
There'd been no further news yet on Tag's condition, and, beyond a sneaked glance through the Emergency Department's glass panelled swing doors whilst on a bathroom trip, Alan still sat none the wiser.
He'd seen only many medical personnel gathered around his team-mate and friend's bedside, and a whole array of machinery when he'd passed, nothing to give any clues or indication as to Tagen's injuries or condition. How anyone could think that he'd wanted this…
Yet, looking up towards the sound of someone entering the room, Alan saw two police officers in the doorway (one in uniform, the other plain clothed but with a precinct logo visible on the papers they were carrying and a grim-set smug look).
"Mr. Tracy, I presume?"
Not dressed in uniform, the woman addressing him was around thirty years old, with thick, brown hair, pulled tightly back at the nape of her neck. She waited only for Alan to nod before continuing briskly onwards.
"You spoke to my colleague, Captain Falke, earlier. He expressed upon you the implications our investigation had with regards to yourself, I'm told?"
Standing to face this new woman, Alan glanced over to his race engineer, Matt Harshaw, who'd been dozing quietly in the corner of the room. He too, had stood, frowning towards the newcomers.
"Uh, yeah. I spoke to someone. I was told that because I'd been seen in the garages I'd have to be questioned at some point, but that technicians were working on cleaning up some CCTV footage that would show what actually happened to Tag's car."
The woman nodded curtly, gesturing quietly to the police officer stood just behind her right shoulder.
"My name is Detective Whitten, Mr. Tracy. I'm afraid there's been no development on the recordings, and therefore, you are being detained on suspicion of causing property damage with a wilful disregard for life."
