Chapter 37: Therapy

Friday, 13 October 2079

"Zdravstvujtye, Premier, thank you for taking the time to talk to me." John spoke in Russian; the microphone distorting his voice so he still sounded like a normal human being, but so that no one, or nothing, could distinguish his real voice.

"The pleasure is all mine." The Russian Premier sounded a little overawed to be speaking to a member of the heroic organisation. "International Rescue has done many great things in the past and the world hopes that you will do so again."

"We're hoping that too," John admitted. "As you know we have already deployed three devices to release the seismic energy building up inside the Earth."

"I know this. I also know of the asteroid that you are hoping to deflect from our planet. The World President, she has informed the leaders of all nations of this courageous thing that your people do."

Person, not people, John thought. My little brother. "You are well aware how globally Doomsday will impact the world, and my team are concerned that just three deployments will not be enough. We have decided that we need to expand our area of attack."

"And one of those places? It is in Russia?" The Premier sounded almost excited that his country was going to help International Rescue save the world.

"It is. We need to get our device deep into the ground, but our resources have been stretched beyond their limits by the first three deployments."

"I heard that your drilling device the… er… Mole…?"

"Yes."

"It was damaged when there was an eruption at the Dead Sea?"

"That is true. That means that we don't have the tools to give the device the head start it needs to drill into the ground. But we believe that, if you will permit us to deploy a device down the Kola Superdeep Borehole, we can improve our odds of saving the planet."

"The people of Russia," for the first time the Premier sounded hesitant, "are very proud of the Kola Superdeep Borehole."

"They have reason to be. And if you let International Rescue use the borehole to extend the life of the planet, then the people of the world will be very proud of the people of Russia."

"To drill so deep, it was a very great achievement." John figured the Premier was giving himself time to think.

"Which is why it is considered by our scientific team," of one, "to be the ideal place to deploy an explosive device. Russia's scientists and technicians have achieved what International Rescue can no longer do."

The Premier laughed. "You flatter me and the people of Russia."

"Only because it is justified. It was a miraculous feat one hundred years ago and with any luck it will help International Rescue pull off another miracle."

"This explosive device?" The Premier queried, still unsure. "What form does it take? Nuclear?"

"No," John reassured him. "It is an acoustic explosive whereby we hope that the force of the sound waves will generate an earthquake about 50 kilometres below the Earth's surface. If our theories are correct, this deep earthquake will reduce or, with any luck, eliminate the seismic energy that Doomsday is threatening to release at much shallower, more catastrophic, depths."

"Will there be any danger to my people?"

"I can't categorically say no. There will more than likely be earthquakes felt on the surface, just not as bad as if we allow Doomsday to proceed unchecked. You will have to take precautions to protect your people in case those earthquakes do cause damage."

"I shall have to order the evacuation of those who live close by?"

"It would be a wise move. The actual deployment is almost completely harmless. We'll just drop our device down the borehole and let gravity and a laser do their work. By the time we've finished, Russia will have a deeper borehole than those found elsewhere in the world."

He could almost hear the Russian Premier rub his hands together in glee. The Cold War may have ended nearly a century ago, but the peoples of Russia and the United States still enjoyed a little friendly rivalry. "I shall have to consult with my advisors. When do you wish this deployment to take place?"

"On Sunday 15th October."

"Two days?" The Premier sounded surprised at the little time available to him and International Rescue. "That does not give me much time to make a decision."

"It isn't giving us much time to prepare the device, but we've got to give it enough time to drill down to the 50 kilometre mark."

"Then I shall call an emergency meeting now. How will I contact you with our decision?"

"Just call for International Rescue on any frequency. I'll answer."

"Thank you, my Friend.

"Thank you, Sir. Do svidaniya."

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

The nameplate on the door leading from the waiting room was simple and understated.

Virgil regarded his brother, who looked uncomfortable. "Second thoughts, Scott?"

"No!" Scott sat up straight. "Of course not. We're only going to be talking... Aren't we?"

The nameplate swung away from them as the door was opened revealing a middle-aged woman with a relaxed smile. "Hello."

Scott was on his feet in a flash. "Doctor Brett? I'm Scott Tracy."

Her smile broadened. "Nice to meet you, Scott, but please, call me Julie."

"Okay… Julie..." Scott indicated Virgil who'd taken longer to stand. "This is my brother, Virgil. Would it be all right if he were to sit in on this session?"

"Of course it is." Julie Brett stood to one side and indicated that both men should enter her office. "Hello, Virgil."

"I'm not here to get in the way. I've already told Scott that if he, or you, wants me to leave at any time, then let me know and I'll go."

Julie gave a gracious nod. "Thank you for being so accommodating. It's always pleasing to know that my clients have the support of their family… Take a seat, Gentlemen…" She chose a comfortable chair opposite Scott's, while Virgil selected one; unobtrusively off to one side, but within Scott's field of view. "Now… Scott… I've read your notes that you've sent through, including Tracy Aviation's psychological assessments from before and after the crash… Why do you feel the need to have therapy now, eleven months after the event?"

"Because…" Scott wished that he was anywhere else than here. Did he really need therapy? He knew that he should have been talking about his problems months ago, but since then he'd talked with John and Virgil, and he would tell everyone else. He was fine. Right...? "Because…"

"It's all right. I realise that acknowledging that you may have a problem is big step for anyone. Take your time."

"Because…" Scott found it easier to look at the floor than anyone else. He'd never thought that talking to a total stranger could be so difficult. It was easier to deal with shocked and bereft victims than acknowledging this calm, understanding woman opposite. "Because it took me that long… to admit that I had a problem… To myself or anyone else… My boss at Tracy Aviation knew… He was keeping me from flying because… he knew… I wasn't capable of doing my job…"

Julie consulted the information that he'd emailed her earlier. "You're a test pilot?"

"Yes… I, ah, deluded myself that he'd grounded me because… he didn't want the company's owner's eldest son risking his life… So many things were going wrong in my life at that point… that I was losing control… I couldn't handle it."

Julie made a couple of notes. "And how did you come to the realisation that you needed help?"

Scott had his answer prepared; one that, while it wasn't a lie, omitted certain facts. "A month and a half ago... I'd… been involved in the preparation of another aircraft… It's one that I used to love flying, but had been in storage for roughly a decade… I'd been working on her for about a month… You know, bringing her back up to flight standard… But when the day came to fly her for the first time… It... It scared me." He couldn't face Virgil as he made that admission. "I tried to pretend that I wasn't scared… I didn't want anyone to know… Especially my family…" This time there was a glance his brother's way, and was rewarded with an understanding nod. "I'm a test pilot after all. Flying planes is my job and… like I said… I used to love flying this one…"

"So what did you do?"

"I flew her... No one else knew about the crash… I thought… And I didn't want them to know... I didn't want them to worry about me."

"And how did you feel when you flew her?"

"Quiet panic." Scott managed at chuckle that didn't ring true. "That was until there was a major malfunction and we nearly crashed…"

"How did you cope when you nearly crashed?"

"I just… kinda switched into automatic pilot… It was my instinctive reactions that saved me, nothing else."

"So you didn't crash this plane?"

"No. I brought her back under control just in time."

"And landed her safely?"

"Yes."

"And how did you feel after you were safely back on land?"

"I… I blamed myself for the malfunction… I thought that it had to be my fault as I was the one who'd been working on her… I had to be the reason why something went wrong…"

"And was it your fault?"

"No… Something had got caught in the fuselage on takeoff… But I didn't wait to ascertain the cause of the malfunction… I just blamed myself… It was when Alan, he's our youngest brother… commented that if I couldn't trust myself it wasn't a surprise that I couldn't trust anyone else… That was when I started to realise that that was the truth…"

"That's an interesting statement. What did he mean that you 'couldn't trust anyone else'?"

"Virg'll tell you…" Scott hadn't really wanted to get into this side of their lives. "Ah… Because we thought the planet was doomed… We, that's the family… thought we'd like to spend our last days together…"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Scott, but, just so that I've got a full understanding of your circumstances, who're we?"

Scott was determined that there was no way that Julie Brett would ever get a full understanding of his circumstances, but there were some things that could be revealed. "If you've read the gossip magazines or business publications lately you've possibly read about the Tracys."

"I try not to read gossip magazines in case I read something that tells me that I've failed with one of my patients." Julie gave a wry smile. "As for business publications… Well, there's a reason why I have an accountant and a lawyer."

Scott chuckled. "Okay…" This was one part of his life that he was comfortable to reveal. "Our family unit is basically made up of our father, us five brothers, Virgil, John, Gordon, Alan, and me, Alan's wife, and some friends who are as close to the family as it's possible to be without blood ties… When our father had a stroke and needed long-term medical care, the rest of us decided that it was time for a change of direction and took the opportunity to try to do our own thing away from the family group. Most of us moved to different parts of the country, and, I've got to admit, we kinda lost touch with each other... Didn't we, Virg?"

"Yes."

"The irony is that it took the world threatening to pull itself apart to pull us together… Well… Like I said… Because of Doomsday we decided that we wanted to get together again… Relive the life we used to have…" Scott clenched his hands together; his knuckles white. "It used to be that if Father wasn't there I was usually the one in charge… because I'm the eldest… Virg'll tell you that I'm a bit of a control freak…"

"No, you're not."

Surprised by the interruption, Scott looked at his brother. "You guys keep saying I am."

"I know we tease you that you are, but that's all it is…" Virgil sat forward. "Scott does need to feel in control, Julie, and I think that's where his problems have arisen, when things have happened beyond his control; like losing control of a plane and it injuring a child. But by saying that he needs to be in control I don't mean that he's controlling… I mean that so long as he knows what's going on and that everything's under control he's happy, even if it means ceding control to someone else who he knows has the skills or authority to take control… Erm…" Virgil stopped a moment to try to evaluate what he'd just said. "Am I making sense?"

Julie chuckled. "I think so."

"Let me simplify it. I've always been interested in painting, and Scott's always encouraged me. I suppose that way he's been in control, because when I was a kid and in his care he's known where I was and what I was up to. But he would never tell me what to put in that painting. He might suggest something, but it's never bothered him if I didn't take his advice."

"I understand. Thank you, Virgil."

Hoping that he hadn't said the wrong thing, Virgil sat back.

"Do you agree with Virgil's description of you, Scott?"

"What I could understand of it." Scott managed to grin at his brother. "I have always tried to let the others play to their strengths. I believe that that's what makes the team stronger… But this time I couldn't relax and trust them to do what they did best. I felt that I had to keep checking on them. And they knew it. I don't know how they managed to put up with me."

Virgil decided against saying: we didn't always.

"It was after that, ultimately minor, disaster, that John told me that he'd always known about the initial crash."

"John is one of your brothers?"

"Yes. At the time of the crash he was the managing director of Tracy Industries."

"If he'd always known, why hadn't he said anything to you?"

"That was my fault, because I didn't discuss it with him. I worked for Tracy Aviation, which is an autonomous subsidiary. This meant that he was technically my boss, but because I was employed by Tracy Aviation, he had no input into my activities in the company. Because of the structure of the two companies he would have been informed that there'd been a crash, but taken no further action; and if I'd been any other employee he probably wouldn't even have known I existed. It was only because he was my brother that he was told who was piloting the aircraft. He wasn't supposed to know a thing, either as the head of Tracy Industries or because he was my brother; and yet, because it was me, he knew every minute detail."

"How did you feel when you learnt that you weren't the only one who knew your secret?"

Scott evaluated his response. "Fear: that someone knew that I wasn't an invincible, perfect 'Superman'... Shame: that someone in my family knew that I'd made a major mistake. We didn't have the final accident report at that stage... Relief: that I didn't have to bear the burden of carrying my secret alone anymore..." Virgil shifted in his seat and Scott could almost hear him thinking: I would have helped if you'd told me earlier. "I know, Virg. I wish I'd confided in you too."

"What did John say?"

"He asked me to go with him to meet the family of the boy who'd been injured… I didn't want to go… the idea scared me… but I knew I had to go… So we told the rest of the family that we had to do Tracy Aviation business and we went."

"Did you meet the boy...?" Julie consulted her notes. "Howard?"

"Yes." Scott smiled. "He was up and walking, which was a huge relief."

"How did you feel meeting him?"

"Shocked… I'd got so wound up in guilt over what I'd thought I'd done to him, that I'd convinced myself that I saw him as I was ejecting to safety; leaving him to his fate… Not only that, I imagined that he looked like Alan… by the time John took me in hand I'd practically convinced myself that it was my brother as a kid that I'd maimed."

"Your youngest brother."

"Yes."

"Did Howard look like Alan?"

"No. Nothing like him. And he'd been hiding in the barn so I hadn't seen him… It wasn't until a fire-fighter found him that I knew that anyone else had been in the vicinity when I crashed."

"How did Howard and his family treat you when they met you?"

"John didn't tell them that I was the pilot, until I kinda blurted it out. Then they were... gracious. They weren't prepared to blame me until they knew that I was the one to blame... Unlike me who'd convinced myself I was a monster for inflicting all this pain onto them. Even Howard was fairly relaxed about it."

"How did you feel then?"

"Awful. They had all these problems that were my fault and they weren't blaming me for it... It was then that John pulled out the final accident report and told us all the investigators' conclusions."

"Which were?"

"That it was a manufacturing fault and that the pilot..."

"You."

"Yeah, me; had done all that he... I mean, I could to prevent the plane from crashing. The report said there was nothing more that I could have done, even if I'd known that Howard was in the barn."

"How did you feel then?"

"Relief... Shock... Surprise... A bit annoyed because John had known for days and not told me… Grateful that he'd told me and the O'Neils simultaneously because they deserved to know at the same time that I did. As John said, we were all victims of the crash; me included."

"Did you feel that this knowledge helped you?"

"I think it was one of the first rungs back up the ladder to normality."

"And how far do you think you're up the ladder now?"

Scott answered instantly. "One rung from the top."

"And what would take you up that final step?"

"Official confirmation that I'm not deluding myself that I'm fine." Scott waved his hand at the papers that sat on Julie's knee. "I've got this document that says that I'm not all right. I want… I need something concrete to counteract Tracy Aviation's psyche analysis so that when I tell my family what's happened to me, I can prove to them that I'm okay now and they won't need to worry about me."

"And if I'm not willing to provide you with that proof?"

"First thing I'll do is admit to my family that I'm a few blades short of a propeller."

Julie managed to hide her smile at his simile. "How will they take the news?"

"I know they'll support me." Scott straightened as Virgil nodded. "I'll do whatever's necessary, Julie, for however long it takes, until I'm at the stage that you believe you can honestly sign that piece of paper."

"Why haven't you told your family what happened to you before now?"

"Because... As I said... After Father's stroke and we moved away from each other, our relationships changed… And over the last couple of months that we've been back together again... I haven't wanted them to worry about me... I didn't want them to think that I was anything but... the person I'd been years ago."

Julie nodded and read her notes. "You said that at the time of your crash so many things were going wrong in your life. Do you think these had a bearing on your loss of confidence?"

"Ah... Yeah..."

"Can you tell me what they were?"

Scott hesitated. "I was in a relationship with a woman... I thought we were serious... I... I thought I loved her and I thought she loved me."

"What happened?"

"She was already married." Virgil heard that bitterness in Scott's voice that was only vocalised when he spoke of Farrah. "I didn't know... Until her husband confronted me at work. I wasn't in a good head space the week after the crash and... he came raging into my office... Finding out that she'd betrayed me didn't help."

"Have you seen her since then?"

Scott shook his head. "I like to think that I have principles. Dating a married woman goes against them."

"So you haven't tried to contact her."

"No... But she's emailed me... She lied to me to try to restart our relationship. She told me that her husband had committed suicide after Doomsday was announced."

"What was your reaction?"

"Mixed. I didn't want anything to do with her... I don't trust her any more... But she and I had had good times together. I wanted to relive them again."

"How do you know it was a lie?"

"Because Virgil found media reports about the husband from a couple of weeks earlier that showed he was still alive."

"So Virgil knew about her betrayal?"

"Uh... No... Not until a couple of months ago."

"I know that it can be hard for a man to be honest to himself, but why do you think she tried to reinstate your relationship."

Scott gave a grim grin. "Vanity would say it was because I'm a great guy and she can't live without me... But... if I'm honest... I'd say that the real reason was money."

Julie nodded. "Were there any other events that put you in a 'bad head space'?"

"A couple..."

"Would you be willing to tell me what they were?"

"Erm... Changes in the family dynamic. John was my boss as well as my younger brother. Alan had married Tin-Tin and gone motor racing. Tin-Tin's always been a part of the family, so she was welcomed by all of us. Right, Virg?"

"Right."

"Then Gordon married Marina…" Scott's jaw muscles tightened. "Well… Let's say she didn't fit the Tracy mould…"

"Scott wasn't the only one who thought that," Virgil interjected. "We all did. And things that we've found out about her since the marriage have shown that we were right."

Scott looked down at his interlocked fingers. "That was one point of friction… There were others…" He glanced towards his brother.

"It's all right, Scott," Virgil reassured him. "You can tell her."

Scott, suddenly even more uncomfortable than before, hesitated.

"He means, Julie," Virgil explained, "that he and I grew apart. We became, in effect, strangers."

"How do you mean strangers?" This question was directed towards the younger Tracy.

"I'm a trained engineer. I've spent most of my life taking things apart and putting them back together again; but by the time of Father's stroke I was burnt out. I needed a change. I decided to become a full time artist, which entailed totally reinventing myself. Different name, different clothing, dyed hair and a beard, false piercings and tattoos... Different personality. You would have had a field day with me a few months ago."

Julie regarded his clean shaven, neat appearance. "Do you still take on this alter ego?"

"Nope. He died when Doomsday was announced. I wanted to get out of that world and back with my family. I wanted things to be the way they were again. I wanted Scott to see me as me again."

"He didn't when you were an artist?" Julie turned back to her patient. "Is what Virgil is saying correct, Scott?"

"Ah..." Scott was studying the floor again. "Yeah... He had this new life and I wasn't part of it. I couldn't even begin to fit in. We used to be that close..." he held up his crossed his fingers. "And then… I'm not proud of this… I accused Virgil of doing drugs. I should have trusted him because I know he'd never do that, but it was like I couldn't see past his alter ego…" He faced his brother. "I'm really sorry, Virg."

"I know you are, and it's okay. We're F-A-B again."

"We're...?" Suddenly Scott smiled a big, relaxed, genuine smile, and Julie saw the self-confident man that he'd always been. "Yes. We're F-A-B."

Julie allowed him a moment to bask in the warm glow Virgil's comment had afforded him. "What caused both of you to regain your relationship?"

"It..." Scott thought. "I suppose it happened gradually... But there was one event that not only reminded me of the person that Virgil is, but it helped me regain my confidence in all my family."

"Will you tell me about it?"

"You probably already know... It was the same day that John and I went to see the O'Neils..." Scott hesitated. They'd been desperate to avoid the media, but Julie was bound by patient confidentiality. He'd be more than disappointed if she betrayed him. "You say that you don't follow gossip or business news, but how about regular news items?"

"Regular news about what's going on in the world? I try to follow the important bulletins. Why?"

"Do you remember, just over a month ago, a fire at Coche Del Olor racetrack?"

Julie frowned. "Vaguely."

"There were a young family trapped at the top of the stand. They escaped by sliding down a jerry-built zip line."

Julie's face cleared. "Oh! I remember. One of their rescuers jumped to safety into a blanket or something."

"Yeah." Scott's face twisted into a wry grimace. "If having to jump, almost literally, into the arms of your brothers doesn't go some way towards restoring your confidence in them, then nothing will."

Julie stared at him. "That was you?!" She glanced at Virgil for confirmation.

The latter chuckled. "He ain't heavy. He's my brother," he sang.

Scott laughed along with him. "You need your piano."

"Sorry."

Julie turned back to her patient. "But people regard you as heroes! Why the secrecy?"

"Because we've always preferred to stay out of the limelight. Our father's had enough publicity throughout the years to make us realise that it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Please excuse my ignorance, but your father is...?"

"Jeff Tracy. He owns your building."

"Oh... That Tracy... I thought your name was familiar." Julie dragged herself back to business. "How would you describe your relationship with your family now, Scott?"

"As it always used to be."

"Yes," Virgil confirmed.

Julie made some notes. "Do you think losing control of a plane and hurting a child who you told yourself was your youngest brother, the betrayal of your girlfriend, and your changing relationship with Virgil were the only catalysts for your deteriorating relationships with your family and loss of confidence in yourself?"

"I'll leave."

"Virg...?" Surprised, Scott looked up at his brother, who'd got to his feet. "You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do. You'll want to discuss what happened between you and Gordon. I don't know what went on and it's not fair I should hear when Gordon doesn't have the opportunity to put his side of the story. You'll both tell me when you're both ready to tell me."

"Oh," Scott said, nonplussed. "Yeah. Thanks."

"That's very perceptive of you, Virgil," Julie complemented.

He shrugged. "That's the kind of relationship we have." He took a step towards the door, but then stopped. "Can I tell you something about Scott before I go? Something that may give you an insight into whatever it is he's going to tell you about Gordon?"

Julie inclined her head. "Very well."

"Our mother died when we were young and because he's the eldest of the five of us, Scott's sometimes been a kind of in loco parentis. It's a role that he's accepted; probably even encouraged. If we needed something, or wanted to know something, and we didn't want to approach Father or Grandma, then it would be Scott that we'd turn to, because we knew he was always there with an answer. We tease him by calling him a mother hen, but we'd miss him clucking over us. That's why he's got the mindset that he's supposed to be the one in control; because we expected him to be in control. And I think that whatever happened between him and Gordon kind of flipped that expectation on its head. And just in case you think Scott can only blame his own attitude, I'm almost one hundred percent sure that Gordon regrets whatever it was he did and wished it had never happened… And, like I said before, the relationship that every member of the family, including Gordon, had before we went our separate ways, is exactly the same relationship that we have now. It's like nothing happened."

"Thank you," Julie said, in a way that implied that she wasn't quite ready to commit to a verdict.

"And," Virgil continued. "I don't believe that there's anything wrong with Scott."

Scott regarded him after his speech. "Thanks, Virg."

"No worries." Virgil placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You know I'll always be there for you."

"I know. I wish I hadn't forgotten."

"I'll be out in the car making a few phone calls if you want me."

Scott twisted in his seat so he could see Virgil better. "A few phone calls? Virg, your back..."

Virgil chuckled. "See, Julie. Mother hen. You don't need to worry about my back, Scott. Just prove to Julie that you're A1. I'll meet you out in the car."

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

Lady Penelope wandered through the vast array of corridors and corners in the well kept, well lit apartment block; musing that, although the Creighton-Ward manor was every bit as much a warren, it was all hers and she was glad that she had no fear of disturbing the neighbours by speaking above a whisper.

She came to the apartment she was searching for and pressed the doorbell. There was a discreet chime before the door was pulled open.

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed, surprised to see her visitor. "Lady Penelope. Uh…? Please come in?"

"Thank you, Ms Janes." Lady Penelope stepped into the neat, comfortable room. "What a lovely apartment."

"Oh… Thank you…" Emma blushed. "It's nothing fancy and it's not very big, but its mine." She looked about as if she were seeing it for the first time. "I suppose it's quite quaint compared to your home."

"It doesn't have the scale of the manor," Lady Penelope admitted, "but, I will concede that you have the advantage of lower heating costs." She pulled her jacket tighter about her as a demonstration of how cold it could get. "Winter is definitely upon us."

"Would you like a seat?" Emma indicated a soft chair. "I'm afraid that I can't offer you tea, but would you like a cup of coffee?"

"That sounds delightfully warming, thank you."

"What brings you…?" There was a knock on the door. "Oh, dear. I wonder if that's Mrs Davies...?" Returning to her front door, Emma opened it. "Hello, Mrs Davies."

"Hello, Ms Janes." Using a walking stick for support, and talking ninety-to-the-dozen, a little old lady hobbled into the room. "I'm so sorry to bother you, my dear, but I heard noises and I hoped that it was… Oh!" She spied Lady Penelope. "I am so sorry." Embarrassed, she turned back to Emma. "I've done it again, haven't I, and intruded when you had visitors? I was so hoping that I'd heard Tiddles in your apartment."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Davies, but I haven't seen Tiddles. There's been no sign of her?"

"None." The old lady sniffed. "I do miss her." She searched her pockets, before sniffing again. "Drat it. And I've come out without my handkerchief."

Emma was about to offer a tissue from a handily placed box when Lady Penelope reached into her handbag and withdrew a small packet. "Here. Please. Take one."

"Oh, thank you," Mrs Davies sniffed. "You are too kind." One of Lady Penelope's tissues was applied to elderly eyes.

"Is Tiddles your cat?"

Mrs Davies used the tissue to delicately blow her nose, before tucking it up her right sleeve. "Yes. I only moved into the apartment next door a few days ago and those stupid, stupid, removal men left the door open. Tiddles ran away and I haven't seen her since."

"If I see her, I'll be sure to let you know," Emma promised.

"You are a good girl," Mrs Davies gushed. "And I'm so sorry I've interrupted you. I'm so sorry," she added to Lady Penelope. "I'll leave you both alone now. Good afternoon, Ms Janes."

"Goodbye, Mrs Davies." Emma closed the door behind the elderly lady's shuffling walk. "Poor old thing," she said as she returned to the lounge. "She is really missing that cat. I hope it turns up safely."

"What does it look like?"

"I've only seen a photo. It was black with white paws and white whiskers. I'm wondering if it's trying to find its way back to its old home."

"That is quite possible," Lady Penelope agreed.

-F-A-B-

Out in the hallway "Mrs Davies" twisted the decorative metal band in her walking stick, disarming the cylinder that threatened to release its knock-out gas. Should the stick be dropped to the floor, almost instantly every person who entered the confines of that room would have been rendered unconscious for a good ten minutes… Or until backup arrived.

She opened the door to her apartment and slipped inside.

Then, slipping her nail into a groove in the knob on the top of the cane, she flipped it open, revealing a tiny microphone. "Agent Six-Two to Agent One-One-Five. Stand down."

"This is Agent One-One-Five. Confirm false alarm."

"Confirmed. Target has a visitor…" Agent 62 paused for effect. "It is Agent One."

"Oh, ho!" Agent 115 chortled. "Is the boss checking up on you?"

"Lady Penelope knows she has no need to do that," 62 said indignantly. "She told me so."

"Offered you her tissues, did she?"

"Yes, and I was able to reassure her that I had seen nothing to worry about."

"Including 'Tiddles'."

"Don't you mock my cover, young man, the plan is working very well. The target doesn't suspect a thing."

"Except that maybe her elderly neighbour has lost her marbles as well as her cat… And by the way; congratulations on gaining a role so suited to you and your talents."

"Cheek! Come here and say that to my face," 62 challenged. "Next time anyone saw you you'd be fertiliser in the rose garden out front!"

"Don't I know it," 115 laughed. "That's why I'm in a car and putting some distance between the pair of us. "

Somewhat mollified, 62 flipped a switch on the wall. The amber light emanating from her standard lamp reverted back to a soft white glow. "While Lady Penelope's there I'm going to take the opportunity to have a break."

"Going to have a nana nap, are you? Enjoy your snooze. 115 out."

62 chuckled, spun the cane about her fingers, and tossed it into its stand. Then, just because she could, she jogged into her kitchen to make herself a drink.

-F-A-B-

Moving into the kitchenette, Emma started making the coffee. "Mrs Davies must have ears like a hawk. She seems to know when I've got visitors before I do and is invariably over here hoping that it's her beloved Tiddles trying to find her way back to her… Anyway…" the switch was pressed down on the kettle. "While we're waiting for that to boil, what can I do for you?"

"John and Jeff told me about this suspicious man that has been hanging about."

"Oh, that…" Trying to pretend to be unconcerned, and forgetting about the gauge on the side, Emma popped open the lid of the kettle and checked the water level. "I'm sure that's nothing."

"John appears to be concerned."

"He is?" Cheeks flushing, Emma looked up sharply. "Oh… I mean… Of course he is. He's loyal to his father and doesn't want to leave Tracy Industries." The water level was checked again.

"Do you believe that's the reason why this man's been following you?"

"He's been asking about John; so what other reason could there be?"

What indeed? Lady Penelope mused.

"John doesn't need to worry," Emma continued, taking an inordinate amount of care to make sure that that coffee was made to the manufacturer's exact specification. "That security company he hired has been in and had a look around. Though, between you and me, they didn't do much. Just checked that all my locks were okay."

Lady Penelope said nothing about this statement. She knew that the 'security company' had done more than just check the locks. At every potential ingress point they'd left a tiny sensor able to detect the identity of any person or feline – mythological or otherwise – entering the apartment. The lamp in Six Two's apartment would light up as soon as any person who wasn't Emma entered the dwelling. "There is a reason why Jeff contacted me about your little problem."

Emma brought in the two cups of coffee. "Yes?"

"There are some disadvantages to being an heiress to a small fortune. You became a target to those who would prefer that your father's money was in their pocket."

Wide-eyed Emma took a sip of coffee.

"And so, throughout my teenage years, I had to submit to having a bodyguard follow me night and day." Lady Penelope gave a light laugh. "Believe me, it, er, cramps your style when you have your eye on the eligible bachelors during the debutante season."

This was a whole different world to the one that Emma knew. She gave a polite smile.

"Deciding to, er, take things into my own hands I learnt a number of defensive skills, along with quite a few offensive ones… And had much more success with those eligible young men..."

Emma giggled.

"Eventually I told Papa that I was going to protect myself and that he could dismiss the bodyguard. I subsequently came to the realisation that there were other women in a similar situation to myself who needed protection, but didn't want to ask the advice of a man or have a tame millstone weighing down their social lives. And so, offering security advice became a little sideline for me. Therefore, Ms Janes, I am here to offer you my services… as a favour to the Tracys."

"Thank you, Lady Penelope, but I'm sure I don't need your services. This guy only wants to know how to contact John. And the security firm didn't seem to think that I was in any danger."

"But what do you think? Are you comfortable with your personal protection?" Lady Penelope queried. "I can offer you assistance." She detailed several options available to Emma. "Please consider my offer." A pink business card was slid across the coffee table. "I know that both Jeff and John would sleep easier knowing that you are safe."

Emma picked up the card. "Thank you, Lady Penelope. I will consider it."

"Good." Lady Penelope nodded as if they'd just signed a contract. "Now, the second reason why I am here is because John has arranged a little excursion for you. I do hope you are free tonight?"

"An excursion?" Emma's face was glowing. "Will John be coming?"

"Unfortunately not. He wishes that he could join us, but he finds himself unavoidably detained away on business."

That colour drained from Emma's cheeks as quickly as it had been pumped to her face. Dismayed, she fell back in her seat. "Business? Tracy Industries business?"

"Oh, no," Lady Penelope gave a light laugh. "Something totally unrelated. It's an old project that the family has reinstated. I'm sure you know how John, once he starts working on something, totally immerses himself in it until the project is completed."

"Oh, yes." Emma gave an emphatic nod. "I know. I don't know how many times I would tell him that it was time to go home, and he'd still be working when I left. Sometimes I even tried to pull him out of his chair, but he'd always say I'll finish this first. He could be quite exasperating."

"He has inherited that work ethic from his father."

"I've discovered that too. So..." Emma sat forward. "Where is this excursion to?"

"John tells me that you have an interest in astronomy."

"Not to his level," Emma admitted. "I looked his biography up on an online encyclopaedia. All these years that I've worked with him and I never knew he'd done all the things it said!"

"John, like his brothers, prefers anonymity."

"I know. But did you know that he'd discovered distant objects in outer space?"

"Yes. Did you know that he was the inventor of the Weicaio?"

"John?!" The Weicaio, pronounced weechow, was a small device worn in a similar way to that which a person might carry a personal music player; on the belt, in a pocket, or strapped to the arm. The difference was that not only did the user wear ear buds which interpreted the words that they heard from the speaker's to their own language; they also wore a microphone, which translated their own speech into that of the listener. Being lightweight and relatively cheap, it was much in demand by travellers exploring other countries.

International Rescue, naturally, had had their own smaller, lighter, more efficient version.

Emma remembered one of her first days at Tracy Industries. The company was due to host a delegation of dignitaries from Kazakhstan, and she had dutifully set out pads, pens, tumblers, jugs of cool water, and a Weicaio at each seat. John had looked approvingly at her table, but had made no comment about her choice of accessories. When the Kazakhstanis arrived he had had met them outside and, to Emma's amazement, greeted them warmly and, as far as she could tell, fluently in their own language. Then he'd ushered them inside, and proceeded to hold down a conversation with his guests as they rode the lift up to the boardroom floor. His Weicaio had remained untouched on the table for the entire meeting, while she'd made a valiant attempt to take notes while her Weicaio interpreted every word that was uttered.

She related this tale to Lady Penelope, who nodded knowingly. "John has a talent for languages."

"I knew that Tracy Industries introduced the Weicaio to the market, but I never knew that John invented it!"

Lady Penelope smiled. "He has achieved more than can be found on any web site. Perhaps, one day, he will tell you all about his life," she added shrewdly, remembering Jeff's comments before his operation and her own observations.

"I doubt it." Emma pouted. "I haven't seen him in months. And I've only spoken to him on the phone a couple of times."

"Then I shall tell him to call you."

"No! Don't!" Emma reached out towards her guest as if hoping to stop any foolhardy actions. "He's like me, on holiday from Tracy Industries. He doesn't want to bother with his secretary."

"He wants to 'bother' enough to give you the chance to reengage with your interests."

"Oh..." The colour came rushing back again.

"John hasn't had a lot of contact with the astronomical world since Jeff's stroke," Lady Penelope explained, "but he has managed to pull a few strings and has arranged for you to visit the Lake Mathscal observatory. I thought we might stop off somewhere pleasant for a little light supper first."

Emma thought of the meatloaf defrosting in her fridge, and a night alone in front of a television, hugging a blanket for security, and said yes.

Twenty minutes later FAB1 drove away from Emma's apartment block. Emma, reclining on the luxurious seats and anticipating an enjoyable evening, wasn't aware that curious eyes watched the pink Rolls Royce depart...

To be continued...