Chapter 2 Auld acquaintance
"Are you sure you do not wish me to accompany you, my lady?"
"No thank you, Frobisher, I'll be fine." Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward looked at the elderly butler, standing stiffly formal, despite the fact he was still clad in pyjamas and dressing-gown. "You go back to bed and get some more rest," she said in a firm tone, though she was sure the old retainer would do no such thing. Frobisher had been in the family's service for more than forty years, and it was high time he retired. She had offered him and Mrs Frobisher a small cottage on the edge of the estate, but the couple would not consider retiring until a 'suitable replacement' could be found for them, and hiring new staff was just not very high on Penny's list of priorities.
The sun was just coming over the horizon as she entered the garage and climbed into her favourite Aston Martin. As she reversed out she glanced over at the large shape covered in dust-sheets at the other end of the garage. That was another item on the 'to do' list. The antique family Rolls-Royce had been sitting there ever since she had inherited the estate. She did not want to sell it, but it wasn't exactly her style. She had been tempted by the idea of having it sprayed in her favourite pink – an idea that would have made her father turn in his grave.
As the car reached the open road Penny pressed down hard on the accelerator. Sir Jeremy had sounded extremely agitated when he had called. She had worked with him in her days with MI5, and was rather fond of the old boy. He was one of the few people who knew that she was more than just the 'social butterfly' whose picture appeared so frequently in the society magazines.
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"I'm most frightfully sorry about this, old chap. I can't think how that man came to overpower me." Sir Jeremy was telling Jeff for the umpteenth time. "It's not as if he had a gun or anything. He just looked at me with those strange eyes." He brightened up 'But I've called someone who should be able to help.."
Just then the doorbell rang, and a few minutes later Penny was shown into the room. Jeff was taken aback. This young woman looked the same age as his boys. Did the future of International Rescue rest with a mere slip of a girl?
Penny smiled and held out her hand. She had met this reaction before. In fact it usually worked in her favour, as most people could not see past the beautiful exterior to the razor-sharp mind it contained. "How do you do, Mr Tracy? I recognised you from your photographs in the business press. I understand poor Sir Jeremy has mislaid something that belongs to you. Don't worry, I have been able to retrieve things for him before when they have gone astray. Please give me all the details."
Jeff looked at Sir Jeremy, who nodded reassuringly. "I assure you that you can trust Lady Penelope implicitly."
Jeff indicated Brains. "My, er, associate here has developed plans for a new rocket plane. This is a private project, not connected with the Tracy Corporation. We brought the plans to Sir Jeremy because he was designing a new fuel for it. Last night someone broke in and stole the laptop with the plans on it. It is vital that these do not fall into the wrong hands and become used as a weapon." Jeff pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand in emphasis, trying to contain the tension that was building inside him.
Penny's brow wrinkled. "So this plane is not being built as a weapon, but could be used as one, and not being built for your company, or your government?" She looked puzzled. "So, what is its purpose then?"
Jeff hesitated, but Sir Jeremy intervened. "I can guarantee, Lady Penelope, that Mr Tracy's motives are genuine, though he may not want to go into them at this point. You can rest assured that by helping him you are not compromising your loyalty to King or country."
"Very well, Sir Jeremy, I shall take your word for it. I'd like to know I can still look King James in the eye next time I meet him." She looked at Jeff again. "I presume this need for secrecy is the reason that Sir Jeremy has sent for me, rather than calling the police?"
Jeff nodded. "That's right. As I said, this is a private project, and I don't want it to come to the attention of the authorities if I can help it. We are lucky that the laptop containing the plans is fitted with a homing device. Brains here," he indicated the nervous looking young man in the thick spectacles sitting at the back of the room, "has a hand-held tracking device that can pick up the laptop if it is within five miles of us, but it is now out of range. We are assuming that the man who stole it has already left the country. We're trying to track it at the moment. I'm hoping for a call soon to tell me where it is, then Sir Jeremy thinks you will be able to retrieve it for us."
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John sighed and rubbed his temples. Two hours ago he had been just about to turn in when his wristwatch had started buzzing. He had cursed mildly, thinking that one of his brothers must have forgotten (yet again!) that the NASA space station kept Houston time. However, one glance showed the situation to be much more serious. CHECK EMAIL URGENT read the message on the watch face.
The elaborate communications system that he and Brains had designed was still at the drawing-board stage and would not be complete until the new space station and its relays were in place, which would not be for another eighteen months or more. Meanwhile he had devised this simple message system, similar to the text messaging that had been common at the beginning of the century. It was usually sufficient to indicate that someone wanted to get in touch, and especially useful while he was on duty with NASA where all phone calls could be overheard.
John hurried down the corridor to the control room, thankful that the rest of his crew-mates seemed to have gone to bed. Switching on the computer he accessed his email.
'Plans for Scott's birthday present gone missing. Can you track? Frequency Grandma's birthdate'.
John frowned. His father had recently commented that the boys could consider the machines they were constructing to be their birthday presents for this year. John had known of his father's plans to travel to England to consult with a scientist friend of Brains over the design of the engines, and shuddered to think of such a powerful machine being used as a weapon. However he could not help but smile at the last part of the message. His grandmother's date of birth was possibly an even more closely guarded secret than the whole concept of International Rescue.
John had begun to work. Tracking the signal through various military and reconnaissance satellites was easy; the tricky part was doing so without leaving a trail. All this would be so much easier when he had his own satellite. He was quite looking forward to being able to spend a month at a time up there. He had always been something of a loner, though this could be hard in a family containing so many extroverts. He had even had Brains incorporate an astronomical dome on the top of he station. After all, if he was going to be so close to the stars, he might as well get a really good view.
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"What we haven't told you yet, Lady Penelope, is how the plans came to be stolen. It really is most strange." Sir Jeremy then gave an account of the previous night's events.
When Penny heard the description of her friend's attacker she nodded. "I think I know of your assailant, Sir Jeremy."
"Who is he? Where can we find him?" cut in Jeff, his agitation still showing. He was obviously a man who preferred action to sitting around waiting.
Penny shook her head. "Nobody knows who he is, or even what he looks like. The face you saw, Sir Jeremy, was probably a mask. He wears many different ones. But a man of that size and build who can render an opponent unconscious by looking at him, is known to the police of various countries simply as the Hood. He is a mercenary, who wants only money and power. He will probably try to sell the plans of your machine to the highest bidder. Even these days there are some countries who do not like being under the control of the World Government."
Just then a beeping noise came from Jeff's watch. He raised it, then turned to Sir Jeremy. "May I use your computer again? I think we now have the information we were waiting for." At Sir Jeremy's nod, Jeff moved to the computer, then after a few minute turned back to the occupants of the room. "It appears my laptop has just landed in Vienna."
Penny nodded. "Our thief will probably use that as a base while he contacts his potential customers." She turned to Jeff. "I assume this is where I come in?"
"Yes please. If I were to turn up there, this 'Hood' character would probably make a run for it and we'd have to start all over again. However, he doesn't know you, so that gives you a chance. I'll pay any expenses, naturally, and whatever fee you think suitable." Penny looked shocked. "Mr Tracy, a lady never discusses money!"
Jeff looked embarrassed. "Of course, my apologies. Now, are you going to need any help? I could ask one of my sons to come with you."
Penny shook her head. "No thank you, Mr Tracy, I know where I can get all the help I will need for this job."
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A few hours later, Penny stood outside the 'Blind Beggar' in Whitechapel. She knew of this pub's reputation, but she also knew it was the place he was most likely to find the person she was seeking. Taking a deep breath, she walked in and approached the bar.
"What'll it be, miss?" asked the barmaid.
Penny hesitated: this certainly did not look like the sort of place one would order a Pernod. "A gin and tonic, please" she said.
"'Allo, darlin'," said a voice behind her. She turned to see a burly man, unshaven, with tattoos on his arms.
She recoiled at the stench of his beer-laden breath. "I think you must be mistaking me for someone else," she said in a cool tone.
"C'mon luv, don't be like that! When I saw you come in, I said to meself, 'Jim, you can't let a slip of a thing like that walk around here on her tod' so I came over to look after you."
'Thank you, that was most kind," replied Penny, 'but I am quite capable of looking after myself."
'Maybe, but I'm sure we'd both have much more fun if I did the looking after." He put an arm round her shoulders as he leered at her. "I bet you and I could have a real good time."
Jim was never quite sure what happened after that. The room seemed to spin round and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Conversation in the bar halted for a second, then resumed. Patrons of the Blind Beggar knew better than to involve themselves in someone else's business.
Penny turned back to the bar and paid for her drink. "Was yer ladyship lookin' for me, by h'any chance?" said a voice behind her. She spun round, then relaxed as she saw the craggy features of the man she had come here to find. "Yes, Mr Parker, I was looking for you. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?"
Parker led the young woman over to a quiet corner. Keeping her voice low, Penny began, "I don't suppose I need to remind you of the promise you made last time we met?"
Parker shook his head. He had broken into the English home of an American millionaire, and had just managed to crack open the safe when he heard a small cough behind him. Spinning round, he saw the slight figure of a young woman sitting calmly in a wing-backed armchair.
"Well," she had said, "when Mr Presberger said I would find this weekend entertaining, I don't think this is quite what he had in mind, but I must say, it is always fascinating to watch a master craftsman at work."
"Are you goin' ter call the perlice?" asked Parker. He had expected the young woman to either scream, or run. This unexpected response left him confused.
The young woman bent forward and carefully picked up one of the tools he had been using, holding it between her fingertips by one end. "No, but I am going to offer you a deal. In my line of work I could sometimes use expertise like yours. Let me know where I can find you again, and I shall let you go – after you have replaced the money in that safe, of course. Meanwhile I shall keep this," she waved the tool, "which has your fingerprints on it, as surety."
Looking at the beautiful aristocrat now across the table, Parker shook his head. "No," he said, "I hadn't fergotten. I suppose this means you 'ave a job fer me?"
"That is correct, Mr Parker. How do you fancy the idea of a little foreign travel? They say it broadens the mind wonderfully."