Triple Jeopardy – Chapter 32

"Want to tell me what happened to wipe out Thunderbird Two?" Gordon asked.

"Generalar Villallobona's got some kind of acoustic weapon that sends out pressure waves strong enough to knock over buildings…" Scott checked the radar. "And blow out Thunderbird Two's horizontal jets."

"I hope no one sang happy birthday."

There was an almost surprised chuckle. "The only recourse Virgil had was to gain height. That was until we all realised that the vertical jets were stuck on full power and still didn't have horizontal thrust. You nearly went into Two's coffin corner."

"How'd we avoid that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'll have to show you the video." Scott indicated the radar. "Saint Michael's dead ahead."

"I hope Penny's ready for us…"

-F-A-B-

Clinging tightly to the An-Staff member which (after an initial complaining burble and a swivel of its head to try to shake off the dead weight clinging to its torso) didn't seem to mind being used as a taxi, Lady Penelope analysed her situation.

She was drawing closer to Generalar Villallobona's henchmen. She knew that because she could hear their rough voices and smell their even rougher attempts at body hygiene. The big unknown was, which way would the android turn when it came to that T-Junction?

They approached the corner and she held her breath, not willing to move a muscle as a group of henchmen came into view to her right.

The android turned in that direction.

A sigh of relief would reverse her good fortune, and so Lady Penelope held tight as she grew closer and closer to the boorish individuals who appeared to be lost.

"This place is a maze," one of them opined.

"You're not tellin' me nothin'."

Lady Penelope gritted her teeth. A double negative. Really, these people were so uncouth.

"We gotta make that bridge thing. Villallobona will have our heads if we don't come up with somethin'."

"And if we could find where the building's collapsin' we could."

"I tell ya, it's this way,"

"Nope," a second one pointed beneath Lady Penelope, "it's this way."

Her android trundled onwards above their heads.

"Look! We've gotta find somethin'. What if we go to the end of this corridor and then you guys go left and we go right?"

"And meet back here in ten minutes."

"I wouldn't want to be any longer. Villallobona's ready to burst a blood vessel."

"I wish he would. Then we all could relax."

"Olver!"

Olver ducked his head at the multi-pronged admonishment and, panicked, looked about him. "Don't tell him I said that," he pleaded. "What if someone's listenin' to us? I'm dead."

Another, shocked by her associate's admission looked skyward. She frowned. "Does that robot thing look right to you?"

Lady Penelope was approaching a corner. She held on tighter and hoped her taxi would follow the android in front and turn into the offshoot.

"No…" Olver mused. "It don't."

The android in question wasn't "right" at all. As it drew closer to the group it slowed and seemed to take on a lean.

"It's gonna drop."

"It won't drop. They don't…"

Lady Penelope's android started turning…

The "not right" android fell, sending Villallobona's henchmen cowering for cover when it hit the floor with a crack that reverberated around the hall and left a dent in the lino. By the time they'd recovered their nerve enough to sit up again, Lady Penelope was out of sight.

Picking himself up off the floor, Olver looked at the train of An-Staff trundling along the roof. He took a step backwards, pressing his back against the wall. "Wouldn't want to be beneath one if it fell."

Or hanging from one Lady Penelope mused when she felt her taxi lose power and wobble. With not much more in the way of options, she clung on until they were passing a side corridor, and then let go. Making a dash to the safety of the offshoot hallway, she heard her android smash to the floor.

She hadn't quite made it to the airfield, but at least she'd bypassed one threat.

But were there more?

Taking John's victim locator out of her pocket she examined its reading. Further down this hall, there were signs of life. Time to get out of here.

But something made her stop. A solitary heartbeat, well away from Villallobona's gangs, in a distant room? Something wasn't ringing true. Her feminine intuition was telling her that this life sign needed investigating.

Ensuring that her mask was well in place, she stepped up to the door and scanned it. It was locked.

Easily sorted. With the help of the gadget that aided in her disguise as a Saint Michael's android nurse, Lady Penelope unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The room's sole occupant was curled up on the floor, sobbing his heart out.

Lady Penelope felt no pity for the individual. "Mr Whitney…"

Terrance Whitney looked up, seeing a now familiar nurse standing there.

"…you are the most exasperating man. What am I going to do with you?"

Whitney didn't know what her plans were. He wasn't sure whether being in the nurse's clutches was preferable to being in Villallobona's. He sniffed.

"Do pull yourself together, there's a good chap. We may have some running to do."

Running? Where to?

"Now get to your feet and let me have a look at you."

Obeying the nurse, Whitney got to his feet. He stood there: a dejected husk of a man.

"Your clothing is not dissimilar to that of Villallobona's thugs."

"He…" The single syllable came out as a squeak. "He told me what to wear."

"He wanted you to lose your individuality." Lady Penelope nodded her understanding. "However, you do not have the build of a gang member."

Whitney, with his pampered and hedonistic lifestyle, had never had that build. But now, after months of near starvation, he looked more like a scarecrow.

At least he still had his brain.

"We must liberate a TA-Epiprocta and use it to evacuate Mr Satin," the nurse was telling him.

TA-what?

"Then we will be able to fly free of this detestable island – if we can elude Villallobona's clutches."

Whitney thought of the weapon that he'd designed and helped build, and paled.

"Fortunately, I have friends willing to assist us in that endeavour. They are just awaiting my command."

Then give it and let's get out of here!

Lady Penelope came to a decision. "Wait here."

Don't leave me…

But, left alone, Terrance Whitney waited.

Lady Penelope's first plan had been to disguise the inventor so that we he would look like an injured member of Villallobona's gang, and 'wheel' him through the complex on a hover-stretcher. She did wonder, however, if the sight of a nurse pushing a patient across an airfield would arouse suspicion. Especially, if that patient were to display the same sort of nerves that the tiresome Terrance was displaying now.

She decided to rename that scheme Plan B and invent a new Plan A.

Deactivating the android that had been her helpful taxi, she hauled it back upright and pushed it on its wheels into the room. "You are supposed to be a clever man, are you not?"

Whitney dragged together what little semblance of dignity he had left and nodded his agreement.

"Then do you think we could, ah, hollow out this machine? And if we did so, could you conceal yourself inside it?"

"I'd need tools."

"Will a basic tool kit do?"

"Depends on how basic."

"Wait here."

And Whitney found himself waiting again.

Lady Penelope was back a short time later, a tool kit from a nearby maintenance cupboard in her hands. "So good of Saint Michael's to ensure that they can repair their staff at a moment's notice." She placed the tool kit beside the android and indicated that Whitney should begin his examination. "But be aware that I shall be watching you. Do not think that you can use any of those tools against me, for I have tools of my own – and they are designed for the express purpose of disabling obnoxious little men who have no idea of their place in the world."

Whitney gulped, but didn't pick up the tool kit. "I-I-I can't."

"You cannot what?"

Whitney indicated the snowman-shaped android. "I had a look at it while you were gone. Each segment is separate from the other, so I'd have to squeeze into the bottom sphere, which isn't possible. It's too small, it's airtight, and I would suffocate."

"Indeed." Lady Penelope regarded the section in question; Whitney quailing at her analysing expression in case she doubted his theory and was going to insist that he attempt to don the camouflage.

What Lady Penelope was doing, was refusing to let this setback dissuade her from her self-prescribed task of freeing (or abducting, depending on your point of view) Terrance Whitney from Saint Michael's. "The absence of alternatives clears the mind marvellously, as Henry Kissinger is reputed to have said."

Whitney felt himself trembling. "Who?"

Lady Penelope ignored the question. "Therefore, you will pretend to be a member of Generalar Villallobona's gang, who was struck down by his, I mean, your weapon. I am the nurse caring for you."

"But… as you said… I don't have the right build."

"When you are lying on a stretcher with a sheet over you, it will not matter what your build is."

Whitney wondered if the sheet was also due to cover his face.

"Wait here, whilst I obtain a stretcher… And I shall take that," Lady Penelope added, removing the tool kit from Whitney's suddenly shrewd gaze. "I do not wish you to get any ideas. You have already caused enough trouble with the ones you have had in the past."

And once again Whitney was alone.

This time the wait was longer, as Lady Penelope had to hide from a team of thugs who were still hunting out construction materials. This group clearly hadn't had a report from the first group, as they were taking no notice of the An-Staff rolling overhead.

That was until another android hit the deck. Then the gang scattered.

-F-A-B-

"How's he doing?" Alan asked.

"Hmmn?" John looked up from where he'd been analysing Mitch Satin's stats. "Oh… Not great."

"I've been thinking…"

"Dangerous."

"We don't want to be in the same room when Scott cuts away the ceiling."

"Good point."

"I've been exploring…"

"I thought you'd been quiet."

"And through there seems to be Satin's private quarters." Alan indicated a door off to one side. "It's even more luxurious than the room I had when I stayed here."

"Tried out the shower, did you?"

"It's got extra settings… I think that we should shift Satin into there while Scott's cutting. He'll be able to make a bigger hole in this ceiling and the, relatively, smaller room will be structurally stronger and less likely to collapse on us. It'll also have the advantage that if any of Villallobona's goons look in here, they won't see us straight away and we'll have a few seconds to mount some kind of defence."

"You have been thinking," John congratulated his younger brother. "Shall we move him now?"

"If you think he's ready."

"I think he's a ready as he'll ever be…"

-F-A-B-

Finally, Lady Penelope located a storeroom, liberated a stretcher, and returned to the miserable prisoner. "I appreciate that you have not forced me to waste time hunting for you again."

"Where would I go?" Whitney responded morosely. "This place is a warren."

"Indeed. And how did you think you'd find your way through it when you…" Lady Penelope decided against saying 'escaped', "departed Mr Satin's room?"

"I knew where I was going. That was until I was attacked by a load of androids. They broke my map."

"Your map?" Lady Penelope fixed the man with a stern gaze.

"Uh… I may have found it," Whitney mumbled, feeling like a naughty schoolboy withering under the stare of a stern schoolteacher. It was not a sensation he remembered ever having before.

"You found it on Mr Satin's desk."

"Maybe!" Whitney pouted, lifting his chin in defiance. "He wasn't using it."

"He wasn't using it because he was, and still is, unconscious and in serious danger. You, and your selfish actions, have bought danger upon us all and if you get caught by Generalar Villallobona then it is only yourself that you will have to blame. Now, stop behaving like a spoilt child and sit on this stretcher."

Whitney almost said "shan't" and then decided against it. Something in her eye told her that she was close to anger and hinted that that was a state which he'd better hope he'd never witness. Making it clear that he was doing this on his own terms and not because some female had told him to, he lay down on the hover-stretcher.

Placing the toolkit at his feet in case it was needed later, Lady Penelope covered this and his lower body with a sheet and a couple of blankets. "Sit up, Mr Whitney," she told him. "You shall need a better disguise than this. Reaching into a medical kit, she withdrew a pad and a roll bandage. "Like our Mr Satin, you have been hit on the head," she explained as she placed the pad on his temple. "Hold this in place, if you please."

Whitney didn't 'please', but an innate sense of self-preservation told him to do as she instructed.

Making sure that it was as neat as a true medical professional would make it, Lady Penelope wrapped the first roll, and then two more, about his face and head. "I shall not cover your eyes, nose, or mouth," she promised.

"Thank you."

"We may need to run, and I do not wish to be delayed by you not being able to see where we are going, nor having the breath to keep up."

Whitney, the bandage rolling under his chin, was unable to do more than grunt.

At last she was satisfied. "That looks acceptable. Now, please lie down and stay still. If you must move, do so in the manner of someone who is suffering a serious head injury."

Wondering how he was supposed to know how someone with a serious head injury moved, since Mitch Satin hadn't moved once since he'd been headbutted by the android, Whitney lay down and allowed the sheets and blankets to be tucked about him.

"As much as I would like to tuck you in so tight that you cannot escape again," Lady Penelope told him, "I will leave them loose enough that you can free yourself, should we need to outrun Villallobona's men.

Whitney, practising his 'head injury patient' routine, didn't respond. Nor did he budge when an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and the connected, although not turned on, cylinder placed on top of his blankets beside him.

"Very good. Now lie still, like a good chap, and we shall hope that this ordeal is over soon." After replacing her mask and checking her scanner, Lady Penelope confirmed that the corridor was clear, and pushed the stretcher out of the room.

-F-A-B-

Those waiting on the deserted island for the craft that would take the Erikeepi citizens home, were surprised when they were joined by another.

"Oh!" Virgil exclaimed, surprised to see three unfamiliar faces. "I thought you would have left by now." His crease-proof uniform looked unblemished, but his hair was ruffled as if he'd just got out of bed.

Which he had.

Taking care to not make it seem as though she was showing undue concern, Tin-Tin approached him. "How is the oxyhydnite?"

She noted that he had stared intently into her face when she spoke, but his reply was reassuring. "The acoustics are a little off, but the balance generator seems to have recalibrated itself."

"Good. Have you let base know?"

"Not yet. I thought I'd see how things were progressing and then report in."

"Do you want to have something to eat first?" Seeing a slight frown of confusion, Tin-Tin indicated the table.

Virgil, with food and drink spread before him, nodded his understanding. He claimed his seat and smiled at the president and her associates. "Is everyone comfortable?"

President Heeron was watching him intently. "We are, thank you. And you?"

Only just managing to keep a frown of confusion at bay, he glanced at Tin-Tin who had chosen to sit side on on her chair, as if ready to jump up and do something important. Keeping the gestures hidden from those not in the know, she pointed at her friend and then made an okay signal, followed by an exaggerated question mark.

Virgil got the message. "Fine, thanks." He thanked Tin-Tin for the glass of cordial that she poured him and glanced up when Brains claimed the chair at his side.

The engineer held out an earpiece. "As Thunderbird One has returned to Saint Michael's, you are our only field operative on site. You had better listen in to their radio conversation. Y-You can l-let us know if there's anything we need to know."

Virgil accepted the earpiece, and slid it into his ear. All at once the sounds of nature that had been muffled noise, became the waves on the beach and the calls of birds.

Thankful that he'd been supplied what was in effect a hearing aid without an acknowledgment of his current condition, Virgil sipped his drink and pondered the many questions that threaded through his mind. Unsure if asking why Scott and Gordon had returned to Saint Michael's would be problematic, he decided to chance the equally pressing: "How's Two?"

"I-I…" Brains cast a furtive glance the Erikeepis way. "…have been waiting for you, er, to give your report b-before I, uh, start a full analysis."

Virgil put down his glass. "We could start now."

"Finish your drink first and have something to eat," Tin-Tin instructed. "It was a stressful flight, and you need to replenish your energy levels."

Virgil grinned. "Yes, Mother." As Tin-Tin gave an embarrassed giggle, he picked up a plain biscuit and began eating.

He nearly dropped the biscuit when there was an unexpected squawk in his ear. Base to Thunderbird Two.

Reminding his heart that it had had enough exercise for one day and telling it to settle down, he stood. "I'm getting a message from base," he apologised. "If you'll excuse me, I'd better give them a report." Hearing another Base to Thunderbird Two blasting in his ear, he retreated a suitable distance. "This is Thunderbird Two."

"Virgil? Is that you?" His father sounded relieved. "How are you?"

Unwilling to take any chance that he could be overheard, Virgil responded with a generic: "All good."

"Glad to hear it. Is President Heeron still there?"

"Yes. Any word on when their taxi's getting here?"

"They're about ten minutes out."

"Good. Have you heard from the rest of the team?"

"Scott and Gordon are standing off until they get word from Penny to move in."

"What's Penny got to do with it?"

"She's on Saint Michael's."

"Why?"

"You know Penny, there could be any number of reasons. But I think she's after Terrance Whitney."

"I hope she finds him. And the others?"

"Alan and John have found Mitch Satin, but he's unconscious."

"Who?"

"Mitch Satin. The owner of Saint Michael's…" Jeff heard an exclamation of what sounded like surprise. "Virgil? Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." Virgil rubbed his ear. "A gull squawked right into my earpiece. If I wasn't partially deaf before, I am now…"

-F-A-B-

There was the door to the outside world… And danger.

As Lady Penelope stopped pushing the hover-stretcher, made sure her mask hid her lower features, and prepared to advance into Generalar Villallobona's presence, she could feel the levitating bed shake.

Terrance Whitney was scared for his life.

Lady Penelope would have been quite pleased that he was experiencing the fear that so many others had dealt with as a result of his actions, if she weren't concerned that the stretcher's trembling could arose suspicions. "Lay still like a good chap," she implored. "We are only metres away from our goal and we do not want to ruin things now."

Whitney definitely did not want to ruin things. But neither did he want to be in his present predicament. He closed his eyes and wished with all his mind and body – Lady Penelope doubted that he had a heart – she had already decided that he definitely did not have a soul – that he was somewhere else and about to wake up from this terrifying dream.

But, as the foot of his hover-stretcher pushed open the doors, he knew he was not going to wake.

-F-A-B-

"Any news from anyone, Jeff?"

"Only Virgil, Mother, and he says he's feeling better, and that matches the signals from his watch, so I think he's all right. But as for the others…" His voice petering out, Jeff Tracy glanced up at the photographic display on the wall.

-F-A-B-

The doors didn't bang open, but they made enough noise that Terrance Whitney was sure that Villallobona had heard them and would come to investigate. Keeping his eyes tightly closed beneath his bandages, he strained his ears over the sounds of construction, orders, and a creaking boat as he listened out for an approaching footfall.

Did he hear one?!

"What's this?"

Lady Penelope was the equal of any of Villallobona's henchman, and she remained as calm and in control as any android in the complex. "This is one of your associates…"

"What happened to him?"

"An android fell on him."

"A what did what?"

An android fell on him," Lady Penelope repeated. "Our more robotic androids are designed to transport themselves along the ceiling of the hospital. This keeps the corridors clear for the patients and medical staff."

"And one fell off?"

"Yes. I understand that it lost traction for some reason."

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

"I do not know. He was unconscious when he was found and was not carrying any identification."

The henchman grunted. This was standard practice as he and his associates used microchips implanted under their skin to confirm their identities and dictate where in Villallobona's complex they could access. "This is a hospital. Why aren't you fixing him up?" He reached out to withdraw the sheets and blankets hiding the patient's frame.

Whitney gulped.

"The hospital has been damaged," Lady Penelope said truthfully. "I am taking the patient to the aeroplane, so that he can be flown out and given the treatment he needs."

"Won't be flying out," the henchman admitted. "The pilot's been locked away because he's damaged his hearing and can't fly. Once a gangway's been built…"

Lady Penelope noted the correct use of terminology. This thug had more brains than most. Or at least a higher level of education.

"…we're sailing out of here."

Off to their right, there was a scream of: Find Whitney!

Lady Penelope felt the hover-stretcher begin to shake. "Then perhaps we will wait in one of the outbuildings until the patient can be loaded onto the ship. It will be quieter and less stressful for him, if he is not in the thick of it. Perhaps you will be good enough to let us know when it is time to board?"

The stretcher's shaking grew more intense.

Intense enough for the henchman to feel and see it. "What's wrong with 'im?"

"Oh, dear. He appears to be having a seizure. When this happens, it is possible that it could get so intense that he will regurgitate his stomach contents. To do so when lying on his back could be disastrous. Perhaps you could assist me?" Lady Penelope moved around to the side of the hover-stretcher opposite to the henchman. "If I were to guide him so as to not twist his oxygen tubes or do anything equally as catastrophic, could you roll him towards you?"

As she thought, the thought of rolling someone who was likely to expel the remnants of his last meal all over him, had the thug stepping backward. "You'd better get him outta here." He jerked his head in the direction of the hangars.

"Of course. Do not forget that we are waiting for word that we can emerge," Lady Penelope told him, her cheeks nudging upwards beneath her surgical mask.

Dodging the activity that was going on with varying degrees of competency to their seaward side, she steered the hover-stretcher over to the hangar that had earlier appeared to be well ablaze, and let herself inside.

The noise of people hard at work ceased. Glad that the hangar appeared to be soundproofed, and having locked the door to the outside world, Lady Penelope held a hand over Whitney, warning him to remain still as she searched the hangar to confirm that they were alone.

They were.

Finally allowing herself a breath of relief, she removed the mask. "You may move, Mr Whitney."

And move he did. Later Lady Penelope was to suppose that her adrenaline had been pumping so much from parading through Villallobona's henchman, that she hadn't even remembered the toolkit. She remembered when she suddenly found herself grabbed about the throat and a box cutter held to her neck.

"Well. Really!" she exclaimed, twisting the arm that held the knife away from her body, kicking Whitney's feet out from under him, circling her floored attacker, dragging him to his knees, and pulling his arm up to his shoulder blades. "Do you want to stay here with Generalar Villallobona?"

"No," Whitney whimpered, his moment of ascendency over as quickly as it had begun.

"Good. Then I advise you to work with me, not against me." Lady Penelope let him go. She picked up the box cutter, retracted the blade, and returned it to its slot in the toolkit. This, she placed inside the cabin of President Heeron's aircraft. "We are fortunate in that this has VTOLs and does not rely on a runway. Also, in that the roof of this hangar opens to the skies… Do not remove your bandages just yet," she added when Whitney started feeling for the end. "If anyone finds a way in here, you may need to assume your role as a patient again."

The TA-Epiprocta 816 hoverjet appeared to be in airworthy condition, and Lady Penelope took a moment to acquaint herself with the controls, as well as load it with a stout rope found hanging on the wall. This she tied securely to the framework inside the cabin and left coiled up just inside the door. Her final task was to ensure that the stretcher that was a part of the bulkhead was attached firmly and ready to accept its next patient.

At last, satisfied that all was ready, she gave Terrance Whitney the word that he could join her in the cabin. "But do not cause any trouble," she warned, for I will have no hesitation in opening the door at your side." She pushed a button and the door in question closed.

Terrance Whitney fastened his safety harness and pulled it tight.

Lady Penelope spoke into a microphone on her lapel. "Lavinia to Malcolm."

A strong, masculine voice emerged from the lapel. "This is Malcolm. Go ahead, Lavinia."

"We are about to depart, but we have a slight problem."

"What is your problem?"

"This craft appears adequate for our needs, with the exception of a winch. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to lift Mr Satin onto the roof?"

"It'll be no trouble at all… So long as Villallobona keeps his distance."

"Are you ready to move in?"

"Affirmative."

"We shall not take off until you have completed the escape route."

"Understood. Leroy has been in contact with the team on the ground. They have cleared the way for us to start cutting. We'll be ready to create your diversion within two minutes."

"This will be much appreciated. Lavinia out."

To be continued…