Thirty Eight - AR

Virgil wandered into the lounge. He was pleased to note that, beside his father working as usual at his desk, both Alan and Gordon were present. He adjusted his sling so it would be more comfortable, and walked over to Gordon, making sure he brushed Alan's foot as he went past.

"Glad I found you Gordo'. I'd like to use your... expertise..."

Alan shifted uncomfortably.

"My expertise? Sure Virg. What?"

"Ah, not here." Virgil was watching Alan sweat out of the corner of his eye. "Somewhere a little more... private."

Jeff was pretending not to watch what was going on. He lifted a report so that his sons couldn't see the smile that threatened to break out on his face.

Gordon grinned, he was beginning to get the idea. "Okay. Do I need any equipment?"

"Possibly. I'll let you decide"

Alan couldn't take much more of this. "Is it anything I can help with Virgil?"

Virgil smirked and patted Alan condescendingly on the shoulder. "No thank you Alan. You just stay there, then when we need you, we can find you."

Alan sweated some more but didn't move from his seat.

Virgil led Gordon to his bedroom. Scott was already there waiting.

"Right!" Gordon rubbed his hands together eagerly. "What do you want me to do? Dye his face green while he's asleep? Put a stink bomb in his bedroom? Shave his head? Or something better."

"Oh, it's something better." Scott told him.

"Right, so what do I have to do?"

"Nothing." Virgil told him.

"Nothing?" Gordon's face fell. All sorts of devious scenarios disappeared from his mind.

"Nothing." Scott confirmed.

"I don't get it."

"You saw how Alan was starting to stress." Virgil told him.

"Yeah."

"Now Scott's going to increase the pressure."

Scott stood up. "Just point me towards the door."

Alan was jumpy, but relieved, when he saw it was Scott who walked into the lounge. "How's things going Scott."

"Things are going great... for me, Alan." Scott's face, hidden behind bandages and dark glasses, was unreadable. "If I were you though, I'd be worried."

"Worried?" Alan squeaked.

"I've just passed Virgil's bedroom. He and Gordon are in there plotting something, and laughing their heads off. I heard your name mentioned a couple of times, along with haircut, dye job and green."

"Oh, heck."

"You know Virgil was pretty sore at you for swapping the transmitters. You've got no idea the number of times he threatened to kill you. I thought I'd managed to talk him out of it, but now I'm not so sure."

Alan swallowed deeply and then stood suddenly. "Dad?"

Jeff removed the smile and then the report that hid his face. "Yes son."

"I think I'll go do some work on Thunderbird Three."

"That's good Alan."

"Yeah. Um there's something that I really want to get finished, so I might not be back for dinner. I might be quite late."

"I understand Alan. Would you like me to arrange for one of your brothers to bring you up a bite to eat."

"My Brothers! N-No thanks. I'll be fine. If I'm hungry I'll grab a snack before I go to bed." He scrambled for the sofa.

Jeff toyed with him for a moment longer. "Would you like someone to give you a hand? I'm sure one of the boys would be willing to help, then you might be finished in time for dinner."

"Ah, no thanks, Dad. It'll be better if I can work by myself - then I'll be able to concentrate better."

"Fair enough. If you need anything, just call."

"Thanks Dad." Jeff watched his youngest son's face relax as he finally submerged through the hole in the floor.

The arrival of the replacement sofa was heralded by a chorus of laughter from the hallway. Virgil and Gordon staggered in, supporting each other.

Gordon clapped Virgil on the back. "Virg. That was brilliant! I take my hat off to you."

"Hey, I didn't have to do anything." Virgil was wiping his eyes. "It was you guys who did the work. And Father... you just capped it off... 'I'm sure one of the boy's would be willing to help...'" Still laughing he collapsed into a chair.

"I shouldn't have, but I couldn't resist." Jeff admitted. "Now that I've implicated myself, just what do you have planned Virgil?"

"Nothing." Virgil told him.

"Nothing?" Jeff was confused.

"Nothing." Virgil said emphatically. "You saw how Alan was reacting. I'll bet he's got half a dozen scenario's running through his head, and each of them will be ten times worse than anything I could come up with, even with Gordon's help."

"And we got it all on video." Gordon crowed. "And when Scott's got his 20-20 back we can watch it again, and again, and again..."

"You can watch what again and again." Tin-Tin asked as she entered the lounge.

"A little movie called 'Retribution'." Gordon told her.

"What?" Tin-Tin was confused.

"What do you suppose he's actually doing in Thunderbird Three?" Scott asked.

"Want to find out?" Jeff asked, his grin threatening to split his face in two.

"You bet." They moved over so that they were next to Jeff's desk.

"Base to Thunderbird Three." Jeff activated the radio and made sure his face was now serious.

He had to repeat the call, before Alan made an appearance. "Yes, Dad?" he asked a trifle nervously. He could see his brothers on the video screen.

"How's it going son?"

"Oh, fine, fine."

"Just what are you doing?"

"Doing? Um - this and that."

"The way you were talking before it sounded as though you had a project in mind."

"Yeah... well... I'm still deciding on the best plan of action."

"Need a hand?" Virgil asked him.

"Or three?" Gordon added.

"I'd offer, but I'd probably not be able to see well enough at the moment." Scott said. "Besides it's just on dinnertime."

On cue their Grandmother appeared at the doorway. "Boys! Dinnertime!"

"It's time for dinner Alan." Jeff said. "Do you want to join us?"

"Dinner..." Alan appeared to waver. "No, no, I'd better get on with what I'm doing. I'll talk to you later, probably tomorrow." He shut down communications before his stomach got the better of him.

"You know Virgil." Gordon said slyly. "It's a bit mean for the poor kid to go without his evening meal."

"Yeah, you're right." Virgil agreed. "Let's get him something special!"

They were back a moment later, Gordon was carrying a tray.

"Thanks Grandma." Virgil called back into the kitchen.

"What have you got there?" Jeff asked.

"Alan's dinner." Gordon said innocently as he placed it on the sofa/lift.

"Shall I let him know it's coming?" Jeff asked.

"Yes. No! Wait a minute. Can I borrow a bit of paper and a pen?" Virgil took the requested items from Jeff.

"Watcha doing?" Gordon strained to look over Virgil's shoulder.

Virgil turned so that his brother couldn't see the paper. "Just telling Alan that it's safe to come back." He continued writing.

"That's a mighty long 'you're forgiven' letter you're writing there." Scott commented.

Virgil looked up, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, maybe it's saying a little more than you're forgiven."

"Yeah! What?" Gordon tried to see again and was once again blocked by Virgil.

Jeff was watching Virgil write. "You're lucky you can write with both hands."

"Yes." Virgil agreed. "You know the old joke 'I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous'? Well I've given my left." He continued writing and the paper started sliding about the shiny surface of the coffee table. "Scott can you steady this for me?"

"Do you trust me not to read it?" Scott asked.

"No I trust you not to be able to see it." Virgil finished the note and, with a little difficulty, folded it in half. "Can I have a couple of bits of sticky tape?"

Jeff gave them to him and then watched as Virgil lifted the cover that sat over the plate and stuck the note to the inside. He grinned when he saw just what Alan was being offered on the plate. "A square meal then."

"Yes." Gordon said. "Meat and two veg."

"That's a fruit." Scott pointed out.

"Still will be good for him."

Virgil replaced the cover. "There we go. Send it on down Father, and you can let him know it's on the way."

The tray disappeared into the floor.

"Okay Virgil. Just what was on that note?" Scott asked.

"You'll find out soon enough." Virgil smirked. "If he's hungry."

***

Alan received the call from his father with mixed feelings. He was hungry, but was wary about what the plate would actually contain.

Arming himself with a long pole he approached the tray warily. It looked perfectly normal. No sign of any booby traps. He still didn't trust it.

He stood as far back from the sofa as he could and slid the pole under the cover.

Nothing happened.

With a flick of his wrist he sent the cover spinning. The plate and its contents lay exposed on the tray.

A whole orange.

Sliced beetroot.

And a rather unappetising piece of raw liver.

"Funny Virgil, really funny." He muttered sourly as he retrieved the cover. He noticed the note and gingerly removed it. He began to read. "That's cruel, Virgil! No way I'm doing that!" Then he looked back at the plate. Perhaps swallowing his pride would be easier than swallowing the meal he'd been provided with.