Thunderbirds Blast Off! Chapter 11: Secret of the Mummy's Tomb, a thunderbirds fanfic

Thunderbirds Blast Off

By Lee Homer

The Secret of the Mummy's Tomb

It was a cool Friday evening on the streets of New York City as a massive crowd of spectators gathered outside the entrance to the Kennedy Arts Museum. A squad of police officers had barricaded the road outside the buildings, keeping the curious crowd at bay. A heavily armoured conveyor truck passed through the blockade and disappeared around the rear end of the Museum. The door opened and two well-dressed men stepped out of the truck. The eldest of the two men was Professor McGuire, the man responsible for the Museum's mysterious donation. A hatch in the side of the truck opened and its shimmering gold cargo shone in the moonlight. One by one, three golden, ancient Egyptian tombs emerged from the truck. The two me wheeled them inside. The Professor curled his lips as he protested to the way the tombs were being handled.

"You must take great care!" he said. "Those Egyptian Mummies are priceless!"

The Museum's curator tried his best to assure him. "Don't worry, Professor McGuire. My men have their instructions."

It took the men a further thirty minutes to complete the operations. Once they left the exhibit hall, the Professor marvelled at the three ancient Mummy Tombs.

"Excellent!" he said with pride. "This exhibition of Egyptian art will be an immense success!"

"And worth all the expense of transporting the cases from Egypt, professor." agreed the Curator.

The short, seemingly sinister professor turned and looked at him. The dull luminescent light reflected in his thick black sunglasses.

"Those cases contain the mummified remains of the great Pharaohs," he continued. "Preserved for over Three Thousand Years in the Pyramids, I trust you that top security measures have been taken?"

"Do not fear, Professor. This vault is as safe as the state banks!" replied the Curator. "In event of any threat to their safety, arrangements have been made to deposit them there, as you know!"

With an unsettling grin, the Professor turned on his heel and bid the curator a good night. As he left the premises, he climbed into a waiting car and set off down the street into the night. He arrived at a seedy motel room a few minutes later. It was the stereotypical seedy motel with dirty rooms and broken windows. It was the perfect place for any no-good crook to hide out in. As he entered the small, musty motel room, Professor McGuire approached a small radio set that he had set up earlier on in the day. He switched on the transmitter and spoke into it. With a dirty smile, the sinister Professor updated his mysterious compatriots.

"Everything is going to schedule. Now, Kranze, It's time for Phase Two of our plan."

And at that moment, within the dark empty halls of the museum, a solitary figure, posing as a security guard, answered the call over his small radio receiver.

"Okay, Professor, I've warned the others. The bombs are in place."

Silently and swiftly, the lone guard made his way down the grand staircase towards the vaults. His two other accomplices patiently waited for him. Kranze headed down into the vault where the Museum's prized collection was stored. As he approached the combination of the vault, he was spotted by another security guard. Kranze reached for a gun and fired at the guard, striking him in the arm. The guard stumbled backwards, smacking into a fuse panel. The exposed wires hissed like a serpent, spitting out red hot sparks in all directions. Kranze seized the opportunity to dash for the door, Suddenly, he turned back and fired again. The bullet missed the guard, striking the exposed surgery. It burst into flames, tripping the automatic alarms.

"Sorry friend," Kranze muttered. "But I've got a job to finish."

Struggling against his wounds, the injured guard dragged himself out of the vault and into the clear. He collapsed on the front of the steps uttering the words. Fire and Intruder. The automatic alarms alerted the local fire tenders who immediately dispatched a wave of vehicles. They swarmed the museum in record time as a sea of red flashing lights peppered the night sky. As the fire raged on relentlessly, the fire fighter's hopes of controlling the blaze seemed futile. The curator sat there helplessly as he watched his building burn. The fire chief approached him with the grim news.

"It's no good. The fire's too fierce! We'll never get inside at this rate!"

"The mummies!" the Curator cried. "We've got to rescue them. Call International Rescue immediately! They are our only hope!"

Up in Thunderbird Five, John received the unusual request. Against his judgement, he decided to report it to Tracy Island. As he did so, Jeff Tracy paused for thought. International Rescue was set up to save lives, not ancient trinkets, but he also believed in the preservation of ancient history. He believed that losing a part of history was almost as criminal as leaving a person to die. On that basis, he decided to act. His boys crowded around his desk as he issued them their instructions. Plus there was the added danger of the fire spreading to other buildings. He couldn't ignore the bigger picture.

"Okay, John. We're on our way," he said. "This one sounds like a job for the Firefly and the Asbesta-Lift. Away you go, Scott. You too Virgil."

"Yes Father," replied his boys as they made their way to their launch stations.

Thunderbird One took off for the danger zone minutes later as she streaked across the sky at full speed. Thunderbird Two followed from her launch ramp, carrying Pod Six and the firefighting equipment needed for the rescue. The two Tracy boys conversed with each other about the situation. It was the first time either of them had to save museum artefacts before. Scott believed that it went against the code of International Rescue, but knew it was best never to challenge his Father on it. Soon, the Thunderbirds arrived at the danger zone and the scene of an inferno. Scott left his seat to climb into a protective suit as Thunderbird Two touched down alongside him.

"Scott to Thunderbird Two. It looks pretty fierce inside, Virgil. Better make it snappy."

"I've just touched down, Scott, Preparing to unload the Firefly," replied Virgil. "You'd better stand by in the Asbesta-Lift."

As Scott left his Thunderbird, he was approached by the Curator who briefed him on the situation. As he did, Thunderbird Two raised skywards on her four hydraulic legs. The flap to the Pod lowered and the Firefly crawled out from within. Virgil steered the ace firefighting vehicle towards the flames and lowered his heat shield. As he took care of the flaming rubble, Sinister eyes observed his work from across the city. Professor McGuire watched on with a sick and twisted grin as he observed the rescue operation from his Motel Room.

"It is as we planned!" he cackled. "International Rescue is moving into the 'Mummy' Exhibition."

As the rescue operation continued, Virgil managed to shunt away most of the flaming debris. He fired three explosive rounds at the wall which concealed the exhibit, extinguishing the flames with each blast. It was a straightforward operation and before he knew it, his task was complete. He threw the Firefly into full reverse, backing out of the path he had created for himself. As he did this, Scott emerged out of the Pod, at the controls of a beetle-shaped tractor-like vehicle. It had a rounded hull with two thin pincer-like grabs on the front. It moved on two large caterpillar tracks similar to that of the Firefly itself. It was the Asbesta-Lift. As he left the Pod, Virgil updated him on his progress.

"I'm through, Scott! The path is open for the Asbesta-Lift, but make it fast! This room is full of smoke!"

"FAB, Virgil," replied Scott. "I'm coming down."

Scott manoeuvred the Asbesta-Lift down the path in which Virgil had made. The thick black smoke obscured his visibility, but he could make out the faint outline of the hole which had been blasted through the wall. Then suddenly, he caught a glint of gold through the smoke as the three golden tombs appeared through the dark smog. Scott smiled as he aligned up the Asbesta-Lift with the ancient artefacts.

"All set, Virgil," he said over the radio. "I'm about to effect pick up!"

The two pincer claws folded outwards. They wrapped themselves around the tombs like tendrils, running underneath them and looping back around the other side. As soon as they were secured, Scott threw the Asbesta-Lift in full reverse. Carefully, he backed away from the museum.

"I'm backing up now," he added. "Strange thought. There's not much damage in here, just a lot of smoke. I wonder…"

Five minutes later, Scott unloaded his haul outside for the Curator to inspect them. He climbed down from the vehicle with an inquisitive mind. The Curator could do nothing but show his gratitude for everything they had done.

"You've done it! You've saved them! I've alerted the state bank. They're opening the vaults now, ready for the switch over."

Scott rubbed his chin. A thought continued to nag away at him. "I see. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to come along."

The Curator shrugged. "Sure thing."

Scott accompanied the Curator to the state bank where he witnessed the tombs being delivered and stored inside one of the impenetrable vaults. The Curator seemed satisfied with the move, and Scott aimed to keep it that way for the time being.

"Well, that's that! Once closed, this safe's impregnable! We could set a time-lock as a special precaution. That way it can't be opened until the setting runs out."

Scott rubbed the back of his head. "I reckon that's a good move and I suggest altering the sealing combination too."

The Curator shook him by the hand. "Thank you again, Mister Tracy. We couldn't have done this without you."

"We were happy to help, thankfully nobody was injured," Scott replied as he turned to leave. "I best be heading off. We could be called out again at any time. So long."

As the Thunderbirds flew over Manhattan Island, on a course for home, Scott and Virgil aired their thoughts on the rescue mission. Scott's thought had gotten the better of him that he had to talk to about it. Surprisingly, Virgil also had reservations about the operation.

"I don't understand it, Scott," he said. "When I cleared the museum vault, I only found a massive column of smoke. The fire originated outside the exhibit hall. It was as if the whole thing had been laid out carefully."

In Thunderbird One, Scott concurred with his brother's findings. "The whole thing's a bit of a coincidence. The fire and those Mummies being removed on the first day. Something doesn't add up. I'm heading back. I'll see you back at base."

"But, Scott? What about Dad?"

"I'll explain it to him. I've got to go back and find the curator. I smell a set-up!"

Wrenching back on the controls, Thunderbird One altered course and returned to the bank while Thunderbird Two carried on. Back inside the desolate quiet of the vault, the lids to the Mummy tombs slid open. A hand protruded from within as a figure climbed out of the tomb. Two other men left their tombs and accompanied the crook on the next phase of their plan. The walls of the vault were lined with gold bars. The prospect of wealth gleamed in each of their eyes. The youngest of the three smiled at their treasure.

"It worked like a dream! Just as the professor said it would Come on, Boys. We've got a lot of work to do. Start loading the tombs with the gold."

The three crooks got to work, lining the three tombs with gold bars. The bars slid neatly into place. As they filled up one of the cases, one of the crooks radioed the Professor over a concealed microphone built into his watch.

"We'll be out of here in no time, Professor. We'll radio for you when we've opened the door. Have the conveyor truck ready. This gold's real heavy."

Sitting in his motel room, the Professor rubbed his hands. Greed had taken hold of him like a madman possessed. The sight of the gold bars tantalised him greatly.

"Kranze and I will be there in five minutes!" he replied. "The escape route has been arranged. No one will know I switched the Mummy cases until it's too late!"

Once their task was complete, the three crooks sealed up the golden tombs. Preparing to move out, one of the men turned to face the heavy blast door. It was their only remaining obstacle. One of the crooks, who had short black hair and wore a purple turtle-neck decided to rectify the problem. He reached into his satchel and removed a small device. It was a glue gun.

"Now to open the door! Lucky the Professor knew the combination," he said gruffly. "This Gelo-Seal he designed will neutralize the set numbers and the door will swing open."

The crook applied the acidic gel to the time circuit that opened the door. He expected to watch the liquid eat through the circuitry, but as the minutes ticked away, the gel did nothing. In a desperate panic, the crooks realised that they were trapped inside the vault with no way out.

"The Gelo-Seal didn't work! The door's not opening!"

"They must have changed the lock combination! We're trapped in here! I'll radio the Professor. He must help us!"

The short-haired man nodded grimly. "With the three of us, the air won't last long! Our oxygen masks only contained enough to get us here! They're empty!"

In a desperate bid to escape, two of the crooks made further attempts to open the door while the third crook tried to contact the Professor. His pleas were met with static. His attempts proved futile. He snarled as threw his radio on the ground and crushed it with his foot.

"The Professor must have deserted us!" he growled. "He isn't coming and the air is getting thin in here. I'd say we've got about an hour left. We've only one chance of staying alive. Only...I've gone and smashed our only radio!"

Suddenly, a series of mechanised clicks echoed throughout the vault. The three crooks stepped back as the heavy vault door opened in front of them. The fresh air wafted in, caressing their faces as several figures appeared from the other side of the door. Their hopes were soon dashed as several police officers entered the vault with their guns drawn. Scott Tracy and the Curator appeared behind them. The crooks were clapped in irons while Scott helped the officers open the gold tomb cases. The Curator's jaw dropped. Upon landing outside the bank, Scott had explained his hunch to the Curator, who in turn alerted the police. He reached for his handkerchief and mopped his perspiring brow.

"Thanks to your hunch, we rumbled the whole gang," he said. "I've checked the museum's itinerary, and the real Mummy cases are being imported tomorrow. Tell me, how did you know?"

Scott smiled with a shrug. "I should have been a detective, I guess."

Parting with the Curator a second time, Scott returned to Thunderbird One and headed for home. Dawn broke after an eventful night for International Rescue. Back on Tracy Island, Scott explained his incredible deduction to Jeff and Virgil over a cup of coffee. The whole story was incredible, like something taken from the pages of a detective novel.

"The police rounded up the guy who impersonated Professor McGuire," Jeff said as he sipped his coffee. "They also caught his henchman, Kranze. The real Professor was kidnapped and locked in a cupboard at a nearby motel."

"Those guys had it all planned," added Virgil. "They knew we'd rush to the fire and transport the cases to the bank. They nearly got away with it, but for Scott."

Scott looked at them both with modesty, "Yeah. You're telling me."

END