THE LION'S SHARE
I acknowledge Carlton own the rights to Thunderbirds and my admiration goes to the talented team who created and put Thunderbirds together.
The light of battle entered his eyes; the time had come for some drastic action. This time he wasn't going to be left with the crumbs.
Mrs. Tracy has made one of her famous chocolate cakes and Jeff is determined to get to it first. What should have been a simple task turns into a game of cunning as he is outmanoeuvred at every turn.
Chapter One.
"Well, they won't find this one." Mrs. Tracy said confidently to Kyrano.
From his vantage point within the communal study, Jeff heard the conversation drift off up the corridor. His ears pricked up as he heard the muffled word "chocolate" followed by "strawberry shortcake" and "good hiding place." If that was the case, he'd have to act fast; past experience showed him that. If he knew about the cake, then inevitably his sons soon would. The light of battle entered his eyes and a determined look stole across his chiselled features. The time had come for some drastic action. This time he wasn't going to let them get there first and leave him with the crumbs. His altruistic nature had its limits. He had to sample that mouth watering treat first. His eyes glazed over at the thought.
With an air of stealth and caution, the head of International Rescue made his way to the kitchen, knowing full well where the hiding place was. His mother was nothing if not predictable. He smiled cockily to himself as he pulled back the drawer of the linen cupboard.
"What the….?" He frowned, his face dropping like a stone at the blank space that greeted him. "Okay, Mother, if you want to play it like that," he said, making a three hundred and sixty degree scan of the kitchen, his senses alert for the slightest anomaly. Dismissing the usual places – she'd hardly likely to have 'hidden' it in the fridge or pantry - Jefferson Tracy rifled through a few cupboards, his patience clearly rattled as the cake remained elusively hidden. A thorough sortie of the kitchen drew a blank and he stood there scratching his head.
"Hang it, woman; where the deuce have you put it?" he growled walking out of the kitchen, his brow furrowed. 'If those boys have got to it first…….No! Don't even think about it.' Entering the utilities room, his frown instantly melted as the unmistakable scent of rich chocolate and fresh strawberries assailed his nostrils. Pulling open the door of the dishwasher, the grin threatened to split his face as the image of a large sumptuously decorated cake slid seductively into view.
"Mother, you've surpassed yourself," he murmured appreciatively, running his eyes avariciously over the rich dark icing and generous portions of chocolate covered strawberries, adorning the top, while the rich aroma tantalised his senses.
Jeff carried it carefully into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. This was no time to develop a conscience he reminded himself as he cut into the cake. After all, how many times had those boys beaten him to it? Well not this time.
'And what about your Mother?' a little voice reminded him.
His mother? Jeff hesitated as an image of disappointment, frustration and temper flashed before him. He started to lower the cake.
'Surely you're not going to let a little thing like that put you off?' the other little voice goadeddarkly. 'Just give her your usual excuse,' the voice coaxed.
Jeff smiled compliantly. He'd tell her her cakes were irresistible, it worked every time. Lifting the confection to his mouth, Jeff closed his eyes in dreamy anticipation, not even minding as the rich icing squelched between his fingers. His eyes flashed open, widening in alarm at the sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Darn!"
Dropping the cake back onto the plate, and leaping to his feet, Jeff grabbed a tissue, his eyes locked sharply on the moving kitchen door as he hastily rubbed the icing from his fingers. Scooping up the plate he bolted for the adjacent utilities. He made it by a whisker just as Kyrano breezed in. Alert, Jeff realised the footsteps were headed in his direction. Had he been seen? With no time to dispose of the cake, Jeff backpeddled with it out of the utilities room and beat a hasty retreat up the steps to the corridor above. He slid to a horrified halt at the sound of footsteps now approaching from the opposite direction.
'Damn, what is it about this place? Want a job doing and they all disappear like gold dust. Want some privacy and it's like Grand Central Station.'
Feverishly he looked around. Ahead and to the left of him was the door to Thunderbird One's workshop. If it was locked…..the thought brought a fine sheen to his forehead. With no time to consider the consequences, he dashed for it. Balancing the plate in one hand, he issued a silent plea as he felt urgently for the handle, his eyes fixed on the corridor. The footsteps were only seconds away. He gasped audibly as the plate tilted, tipping the knife forward. Jeff dove, his fingers locking round it inches from the floor, his other hand struggling to balance the plate. The footsteps were almost upon him now. Pressing hard against the door and resigned to the fact he was about to be caught red handed, Jeff gasped as it gave way. Not questioning it, he ducked inside with a split second to spare and leaned heavily against the door, sending up a silent prayer of thanks as the footsteps passed by. As his pulse rate steadied and his adrenalin levels returned to normal, the man with nerves of steel turned his attention back to the plate in his hands.
Looking at his surroundings, Jeff smiled wryly. This wasn't quite what he'd planned, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
"Well, at least I won't be disturbed in here," he said, lifting the unsampled slice to his mouth. His taste buds tingled in anticipation, when the stillness of the workshop was shattered by the persistent beeping of his watch. The shock made him jump and drop the cake. On blind instinct he fielded it with the plate, breathing a sigh of relief as he made a successful catch. Grabbing a tissue from his pocket, the fifty six year old ex astronaut hurriedly wiped his fingers. Drawing a steadying breath, Jeff addressed his watch. "Go ahead, John."
"You alright, Dad?"
"A minor complication, son. What can I do for you?"
"It may be nothing, sir, but during the routine maintenance checks I noticed the onboard computers were registering a glitch in the variable-gravity sensors of Thunderbird Three's sleeping quarters. I normally wouldn't bother you with something like this….."
"Have you spoken to Brains?"
"I thought I'd mention it to you first, Dad. It's probably nothing, but I'd like you to take a look…….."
Jeff hesitated, looking longingly at the confection, knowing if he took even the slightest bite…….. John was waiting………... "Okay son, I'll be there in a minute." Jeff sighed. The cake would have to wait.
'Are you crazy? One slice. How long will that take? Go on. What are you waiting for?' the dark voice enticed.
Jeff wavered. The voice was right. It would only take two minutes. And the tempting slice was practically begging to be eaten.
'What sort of an example is that you're setting?' the voice of reason interceded. 'If your sons could see you now…….two minutes? You know once you take that first bite you'll be lost. Business before pleasure, you always said. Where is your sense of duty?'
The voice of reason won. Jeff turned towards the door, then turned back. He was certain the cake was safe; no-one was going to find it in Thunderbird Ones' workshop……but just in case……Jeff sensibly stored the 'to-die-for-feast' in the locker housing the small components for Thunderbird One before, regretfully, closing the door on it.