You Could Make A Killing

by aj655321

Alan has an accident on the race track, but before long John's life is also threatened. Are the Thunderbirds having a streak of bad luck or is something more sinister at play?

2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Kenny smiled as he watched Alan shuffle in. He had not wanted Alan to turn up today, but expected nothing else and did not see the point in arguing. Alan's presence indicated that his father felt the same way. He went up to him, dragging a chair along. "Sit down before you fall down, Al."

"Good morning to you too." Alan lowered himself into his chair, wondering if his ribs really were just bruised.

From nowhere Kenny produced another long black. Alan took it suspiciously. "Bets made while on morphine don't count, you know?"

"Would I take advantage of a good friend while mortally wounded and lying in the hospital?" Kenny asked.

Alan gave him a pointed look which asked if Kenny really wanted to hear his answer. Kenny chuckled. "Don't worry, this one's on me."

Alan offered his thanks before taking a sip of the hot coffee, wondering if anyone could ask for a better friend than Kenny. "So what have we got then," he asked, rolling the chair over to the computer console. The data that had been received just before the accident was already on screen.

Kenny pulled up another chair beside him and sat down. He grabbed a pen from the desk and used it as a pointer. "The warm up went fine. All readings normal. No residuals in the exhaust. You know, they say you have good mechanical empathy, but I think it's probably only with cars with masochistic tendencies - look at this, as soon as you gunned it, something happened." Alan nodded along. "At a guess I'd say some sort of catastrophic failure."

"No," Alan shook his head; "The engine was warm."

"Yes, Alan, the engine was very warm. It was on fire." Kenny laughed.

"But not due to some catastrophic failure."

"You're saying it was coincidence?"

"I don't know what I'm saying, but I'm thinking that we should be taking a look at the carcass."

"OK, most of it's in the lab, a few of the guys were working on it yesterday arvo." Kenny watched in sympathy as Alan pulled himself up from his chair and balanced himself. "You sure you should be here?"

"I'm fine!" Alan insisted. He had already had this argument with Scott when he picked him up from the hospital this morning. Scott had insisted that he would be back in a few hours to check on him though. Alan had tried to protest, but when Scott offered to let their father come instead, he grudgingly agreed.

-

Several hours later Alan sat at a bench with the charred remains of the Stoker scattered about in front of him. He rested his aching head on his hands and rested for a moment breathing deeply, trying to figure it out. In the corner sat Kenny at a drawing board studying the Stoker drawings. When Scott walked in he did not even need to ask how the investigation was going. He pulled a stool up next to Alan who looked up at him, bleary-eyed.

"I'm alright," Alan put in before Scott even had a chance to ask.

"Really?" Scott asked kindly.

Alan sighed. It seemed there was no way of avoiding the constant asking after his wellbeing. "Yeah, really. But…no joy here." He waved his hand over the table.

"Any idea where the fire originated?"

"Second cylinder. But why is anyone's guess. The whole thing is a mess, not much to go on."

Scott nodded and picked up one of the jets infront of him and studied it.

"Third cylinder," Alan told him. Scott nodded.

The silence between them lasted a few minutes, both just sitting and staring blankly.

Becoming slightly uncomfortable, Scott tried to start up the conversation again. "So who's going to drive tomorrow?"

"Some guy Richards."

"Don't know him."

"Me neither."

"Oh."

The silence took over for a few minutes more.

"You want some coffee?" Alan offered Scott.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Kenny?" Alan called.

"What?"

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He spoke without even lifting his head.

Scott watched Alan disappear, satisfied that he seemed steady on his feet. Logically he knew that concussion did not usually result in life threatening situations, but that did not stop him worrying. He returned his attention to the jet in his hand. Bored with its aesthetic qualities he picked up another item from the table. As he turned it around he noticed a crack extending half way around its diameter - a clean one at that. He squinted closer.

"Hey Malone?" he called.

This time Kenny looked up. "Yeah?"

"You know there is a crack in this valve from the third cylinder?"

"Yeah, it would have happened after the fire though."

"Oh, I don't think so." Scott replied.

Kenny's curiosity was piqued. He stood up and came over. Scott handed him the part. "Look, there's a well defined line of fracture, extending out from the leading edge. But I can tell you one thing, I'm pretty sure it happened before the fire – look at the direction of the chevrons, following from the beach marks."

"Stresses induced by failure? Faulty component?"

"Well, assuming the same thing happened in the second cylinder, that would make two faulty components."

"Which is rather unlikely, don't you think?" Kenny asked, losing interest as the supposed discovery did not seem to be yielding results.

"Maybe." Scott did not sound convinced. "You got an SEM we could put this under?"

Kenny shook his head. "Not here, but there is one at Warren's lab in town."

"You think he'd mind?"

"Dunno, you could ask him. Might want to work it through Alan though."

"You reckon it's worth it?"

"Well lets put it this way, we haven't got anywhere so far. You could probably blame it on magical pixies at this point and someone would look into it."

Scott smiled and nodded. "Hey Alan!"

Alan was obviously out of earshot as he did not instantly appear at Scott's will. Scott jumped off his stool and went to go and talk to him.

"Tell him to hurry up with the coffee," Kenny called after him.

-

Scott adjusted his legs for what felt like the hundredth time. He knew that everyone else in the room was probably staring at him, wondering about his restlessness. He didn't care, this was the second time in two days he had been made to wait in this damned hospital to see his brother and he did not enjoy it.

He had found Alan in the break room, back against the cupboards, breathing heavily. "Somethings wrong, Scott." he had said. With those three words Scott's heartrate had doubled. Wishing for something to check Alan's pupil reaction or blood pressure Scott had called out for help. The ambulance had come and he had ended up in this damned waiting room again and his father still hadn't arrived yet and damn it all to hell! Scott jumped up again and continued pacing, looking at his watch yet again. He was in fact so engrossed in his worried waiting that he did not notice when Dr Chung came looking for him.

"Excuse me, Mr Tracy?"

Scott's head snapped up and he found himself eye to eye with Dr Chung. "Dr, sorry, how is he?"

"He's fine."

"Really?"

Dr Chung smiled at Scott's incredulity. "Well, his concussion is rather serious, but we've run scans and there is no sign of intercranial bleeding."

"But…what happened then?"

"Concussion is not a good thing, Mr Tracy. It means that the brain has taken a fairly hard knock and consequently some signals come through a little muddled. As far as we can tell, your brother will be fine, but this time I would strongly suggest that Alan stay in the hospital where we can keep an eye on him. Such procedures are in place for a reason."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I'll hold him down myself if that's what it takes."

Dr Chung laughed. "I shouldn't think that will be necessary, he seems rather embarrassed about the whole incident."

"Can I see him?" Scott asked.

She nodded, "Sure, he's just down the corridor, left then right, Ward 2A."

Scott thanked her and made his way towards the ward.

Once there he quickly located Alan's bed number from the digital readout on the wall and counted along the corridor. When he found the right room he walked in to see Margaret laughing. "Figured I'd be seeing you again, Mr Tracy," she said to Alan, not noticing Scott.

"What? You knew that I was going to have freakishly bad luck." Alan asked, a little bitterly although at the same time knowing he was taking his frustration out on an innocent victim.

"Well, you were just begging Mr Murphy for it when you checked yourself out." Margaret continued seemingly unperturbed by his tone.

"Who's Murphy?" Alan asked, screwing his forehead up in confusion.

Margaret raised a disbelieving eye at him.

Alan thought for a minute, then mouthed an understanding 'oh' "Murphy's law."

Margaret laughed and turned to leave. It was then that she saw Scott who had been waiting just around the corner. "Don't you got getting him all excited again, will you? I think that this time I might have convinced him to stay put."

Scott nodded numbly and Margaret left. Walking further into the room Scott greeted Alan with a small wave. "Hey Alan."

"Hey Scott."

"You alright?"

"Scott do you remember that time that you broke your wrist at that mountain in Peru and you just about went crazy with everyone checking up on you every twenty seconds?"

"Sorry." Scott apologised, realising what Alan was telling him. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. "So the Doc seems to think you'll be alright. Your head is a little harder than we thought. I guess I should go check for potholes in the tarmac."

"Yeah, she just saw me fifteen minutes ago. Seems like it was a false alarm."

"Well not really, you're concussed. You should be in the hospital."

"Lets not have this discussion again." Alan grumbled

"OK. So how about that weather, huh?"

"Scott!" Alan protested.

"Well it seems every other topic of discussion has been vetoed." Scott replied without hesitation.

"Look, I'm fine, but I was feeling really wonky. But it seems that I just need a little more rest, which means I'm in here for another day or so. Now can we please talk about something interesting?"

"Like?"

"Like why the hell this happened in the first place." Alan fidgeted with the blanket draped over his lap, avoiding Scott's eye.

"Kenny's looking into it."

"He's not going to find anything!" Alan cried in frustration, finally looking Scott in the eye.

"They think that there might be some design conflicts carbing the-"

"Come on, Scotty, that's bullshit and you and I both know it. Nothing like that has ever been heard of. Something has been screwy with that car from day one."

"So you tell me what happened."

"You deaf or something? I don't know. None of us do. If Kenny can't figure it out then we're probably not going to ever know."

Scott sighed and leaned back in the chair rubbing his hands over his face. "Do you remember that time the Fireflash kept going down?"

Alan nodded, "Sure I do. You refused to bail out of a crashing plane."

"Somewhat like you refused to stay in the hospital." Scott replied, wondering if maybe he knew his brother's a little too well. Still living together gave them plenty of ammunition.

"That's a totally separate thing, there was no imminent danger."

"But the principles the same, we're not mechanics, we're engineers and we have to know why. It's why I couldn't bail and it's why you took a stupid risk going into the lab this morning."

"What's your point?"

"Well, do you remember why the Fireflash was crashing?"

"Yeah, outside influence - sabotage, there was nothing wrong with it."

"Exactly!" Scott cried.

"You're saying someone is sitting on the back of the stoker cutting wires?" Alan's voice dripped with incredulity.

"No, but it's a good analogy."

"Scott, I think you're being a tad paranoid."

"I don't know if I am. After you went to get coffee, before I…" Scott's voice faltered a little at the memory, "found you…I was looking at the third cylinder - there's a pretty well defined crack all the way around the valve."

"The Stoker crashed - there are going to be broken components."

"Alan! Will you listen for a sec. We're talking about two faulty components in the same engine."

"They don't have to be faulty - believe it or not, but when a car catches on fire some unexpected stresses arise throughout the engine."

"I'm pretty sure this isn't a stress fracture."

"Come on, what are the odds of two faulty cylinders in one car?"

"Pretty slim, unless you're stacking the odds."

Alan considered this for a moment. "Lets just entertain the idea for a moment. Where exactly were these cracks? Are they fatigue, brittle or what?"

"It looks like fatigue, but I'm not so sure. I suggested to Malone that we put the thing under Wilsons SEM."

"What exactly are you expecting to find?"

"Not really sure yet, but you have to admit it would explain a lot."

"I think you're clutching at straws. Honestly, why would anyone care about ruining the team - it's hardly high profile. And it's sure not for the winnings. Certainly not for all the work you're proposing someone put into getting me killed."

"You just answered your own question."

"What?" Alan searched Scott's face. "Stop talking in riddles."

"What if they're not trying to ruin the team. What if they're trying to kill you?"

"Oh come on, Scott."

"Hey, I've had a lot longer to think about this than you. And cars may not be my thing, but before you were born planes still ran on almost identical components." Scott paused for a moment and furrowed his brow. "What the firing order on the Stoker?"

"6, 5, 3, 2, 4, 1. Why?"

Scott scribbled the numbers down on his hand and studied it for a second. "That's a slightly odd order isn't it?"

"It's fitted with a variable counterbalance giving a bit more freedom. I guess the order balances some secondary couples or something."

"Or something."

"Scott, you're doing that thing again."

"Alan, listen, do you remember exactly what happened in the crash?"

"Yeah, I put my foot down, the car went boom and I drove into a wall."

"Did you ever flood the carb?"

"Scott, please, I'm a professional."

"Alan, just answer the question."

Alan hung his head "I came close, I suppose."

"And what if you flooded the engine?"

"What?"

"What if the valves were designed to fail? As soon as enough force was thrown behind them, they'd break. For a split second, you've got a vacuum, fuel could rush into the engine and if you were lucky enough to get a spark-"

"Then you'd get a pretty decent flambe a la Alan."

"Exactly."

The two stared at each other for a second pondering the realisation.

"You never answered my question." Alan finally ventured.

"What question?"

"Why on earth would someone want to kill me? It's only a brief comeback and not many people even know about it."

"Well, you are the son of a very wealthy man."

"So what does killing me do? Piss off one of the richest men in the world with more assets at his fingertips for revenge than any other man I can think of?"

"Well, I'll admit that's where my theory falls down. But there was another reason I thought about."

"Which would be?"

"What if someone knows?"

"Knows what?"

"Knows." The emphasis and the heavy look in Scott's eye brought the realisation to Alan that he was referring to their biggest secret.

"They couldn't and if they did, wouldn't they have better things to do than just knock me around a little. I mean I'm hardly hurt."

"But you could have been."

"Scott, it's getting late and you are being ridiculous. Go and talk to Kenny, he's probably figured it out already."

What Alan did not see was his older brothers indecision. While he realised he was probably just being paranoid; it was hard not to be when guarding one of the worlds biggest secrets. And he didn't like the though of leaving Alan alone when somebody could be out there with some unknown malevolent intentions. "I think I'll just wait until Father shows up."

Alan sighed and nodded, not willing to admit that he was still feeling rather woozy and enjoyed having someone there for the moment. However, it wasn't long after he lay back that he slipped into a quiet slumber.

Scott leaned back into his chair watching Alan rest. Seeing it assuaged his fears somewhat. He turned over the discussion in his mind, running himself into corners everytime. Logically, it felt like paranoia - a desperate explanation for the unexplainable, like little green men, pollution and sock gnomes. But there was still that frustrating feeling that there was no other explanation. He had not wanted to worry his father with his imaginings, but after almost half an hour decided that it would be the only way to put his mind at rest. His father would remind him exactly how ridiculous the entire notion was and probably offer a perfectly reasonable explanation of what happened. With that resolution in his head he drifted off as Alan had.

-

"Scott." Jeff whispered, shaking his eldest son's shoulder.

Scott winced and took in a deep breath. Blearily he opened his eyes and looked up and his father for a second before his attention quickly shifted back to Alan. Seeing that he was still asleep, Scott stood up and quietly shuffled out of the room, followed by Jeff.

Once they were both in the corridor they could resume normal tones. "How is he?" Jeff asked.

"He's alright."

Jeff cocked his head slightly, dubious of Scott's affirmation.

Given his father's expression, Scott decided to elaborate. "Well, I mean it's a pretty serious concussion. They had to do a scan to check for any bleeding, but nothing turned up. He really just needs to get some rest."

"Which means that we're going to have to keep that Wilson character away from him."

"Father, you and I both know that Alan would have done what he did even if Wilson had demanded that Alan stayed in bed."

Jeff nodded, "I know." Then he laughed as if something had just occurred to him.

Scott frowned, confused.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed that we all understand this obstinate stubborn behaviour because we are all guilty of it."

Scott wondered if this had actually cleared anything up or just made him more confused.

Jeff continued with a smile on his face, his dimples more pronounced than usual. "Never mind, I'm just glad he's alright. Twice in two days is just ridiculous."

"I know," Scott replied. His voice faded away, hesitant.

"Scott?" Jeff took his understanding fatherly tone he had mastered after many years of many children.

"He scared me." Scott knew that his voice was about to crack so stopped.

Jeff looked at Scott awkwardly before pulling him into a brief hug. They parted uncomfortably, a little too aware of their public surroundings for such a display. "You'd think I'd be used to it - you know, walking in on that sort of thing."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully.

Without any outward signs the two realised that the emotive roadblocks were now out of the way and they agreed to go and get something real to eat downstairs. As Jeff went in to look over Alan for a few minutes more Scott stood in the hallway practicing exactly how he would approach the other topic fraying his mind.

It turned out that he needed no lead in though. Jeff obviously had been talking to Warren and was concerned that nothing had eventuated. Warren had temporarily suspended the investigation until after the race. Qualifying was just around the corner and he needed all hands on deck to get the new fuel injected car up to a standard that could compete with the other runners.

"About that," Scott lead in, "before all this happened, I was looking in on Alan and I think I might have a theory on all of this." Scott looked up from his coffee and saw his father nod encouragement for him to continue. He took another bite of his steaming pie before continuing. "Well, I was looking at one of the valves and I noticed a small crack extending around it. I think, I mean, I was just wondering if maybe it was possible…" he swallowed and searched his father's face, "that maybe someone had tampered with the engine." Scott cringed inwardly. Saying it to his little brother seemed easy - it was just like the games that Alan would insist that he play. But saying it to his father made it seem even more ridiculous than ever.

"Hmmm…" Jeff said.

"I know it seems a little ridiculous, but there seems to be no other explanation."

"I've toyed with the idea."

"What?" Scott asked sharply.

"Well, Warren and his team can't figure it out - logically it seems that this shouldn't have happened. I'm guessing that the investigation is going to conclude either a freak accident or foul play."

"And that doesn't worry you?" Scott was perturbed by his father's matter of fact tone.

"Of course it worries me, but worrying Alan too won't achieve anything. Especially since all we have is speculation."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

Scott frowned.

"Look, Scott, we face danger everyday. If someone is going to come after us, at least we are equipped to deal with it. Alan's going to be safe while he's in the hospital and in another week he'll be back on the Island and even safer. For the time being, I've got to get back home and I know I can trust you to take care of things here."

Scott was almost surprised by the fact that his father did not surprise him at all. He nodded numbly.

"Hey!" Jeff called, seeing the lack of enthusiasm. "You know I'd want to be here, but Rocket Fuel doesn't grow on trees you know and someones gotta keep the bank balanced."

"Yeah, Father, I know."

"Yes."

"Yes." Scott repeated, wondering if he should slouch to prove a point, but looking at his father's tight jaw he realised that after all he had been through today it would not be a good idea to push him. Whatever he said, Scott knew Alan had scared his father just as much as himself.

It was closer to 48 hours later that Alan was given the all-clear again. This time he chose to remain until the doctors felt he was ready to leave, slightly shaken by the entire affair and simultaneously reminded of his own mortality. Scott almost wished they had kept him on longer, just in case.

Alan returned to the garage for the post-race maintenance and tests with more than a little sadness. He knew his father would expect him back by in two days as he was due to take over for John on Thunderbird 5 and still he had not received the competition he had been looking forward to. He enjoyed meeting his replacement though and was suitably impressed by the young man's skill and thus held no particular grudge against him. Logic aside, the anti-climactic end to his holiday left him feeling worse than he had when he finally decided it was time for said holiday. Scott stayed with him until it was time to return. He did not appear to consider his unusual and enjoyed the company. Not to mention the fact that Scott was inevitably handy to have around the garage.

"Alan, listen, I got a chance to have a look at this under the SEM."

"Yeah?"

"Look at this." Scott held out some images for Alan to inspect. Alan flicked through them, studying a couple in particular. "Fatigue then?" he ventured, noticing the characteristic striations.

"Yeah," Scott agreed, "but look at the data – with that sort of cycling we should be seeing a lot longer life than what Wilson tells me."

"How old was she anyway?" Alan asked, taking a quick look at the pictures again, "Couldn't be much less than a few months."

"Nine days." Scott replied emphatically, catching Alan's eye.

He was met with disbelief and confusion. "Oh come on Scotty, fatigue in nine days – you'd have to have it running One or something for that sort of failure."

"That's what I thought, so I ran a spectral analysis and guess what turned up."

Alan shrugged, not patient enough to play games.

"Nearly 2 Hydrogen."

"What!"

Scott nodded. "Hydrogen embrittlement."

"We gotta tell someone, there'll be people driving on these things. They'll have to recall the batch or something."

"Nope."

"What do you mean, no? This is a damn death trap, we have to get them off the road."

"Alan, listen to me, I rang Crystler, they didn't know what I was talking about."

"So they know and they're covering up."

"I don't think so – they asked for the chassis number and they said it should be wrapped around 2 litre engine."

"It's hardly a trade secret to put a larger engine in a car."

"That may be true, but still if the chassis number doesn't match the engine someone had plenty of opportunity to tamper with it. And with levels of Hydrogen this high there really is no way a batch should have passed through quality control. If there was a mistake this bad someone would have heard about it before now. Face, it, the likely option is that someone has been playing around with your car."

Alan opened his mouth to venture more disbelief but could not find any logical argument. "No way," was all he could manage.

-

Alan was fairly certain that he did not imagine Scott's hovering for the rest of the day. However, given that he was going home tomorrow and should not have to put up with it there, he allowed it.

However, in one of his brief periods of separation Kenny took the chance to talk. "Yo, Al, you wanna celebrate tonight?"

"And by celebrate you mean 'get drunk'?" Alan asked.

"Exactly."

"Well when you put it that way…" Alan replied, clearly not convinced, but upon a quick reflection changed his mind. "Actually, you know what, lets do it. It's the last time I'll get to see you for a while."

"Before you disappear into the ether again?"

"Something like that."

"I sure hope she's worth it."

"She?"

"Whoever it is. Only a woman can make a man give up the thing he loves most."

"Kenny, look-"

"Alan, don't, whatever the birds name is or who she is or why it's a big secret, I don't have to know if you don't want to tell me. You're my friend and I respect that you need some secrets."

Kenny's use of the word 'bird' unnerved him a bit. Instead of replying he just nodded. It was easier that way. "Where?"

"After Wilson's let us off we'll head down to the local and see what happens from there."

"Sounds good."

"Bring Scott if you want. Although I don't think you'll have much choice. He should have flown helicopters rather than planes."

Alan smiled, "Yeah, he can get a bit overbearing."

"Give him some credit, you didn't see the crash." From his expression Alan could tell that Kenny was seeing it all play over in his head again.

"Yeah, but I'm fine now."

"Maybe you shouldn't be drinking so soon after a concussion."

"We'll take it easy."

"Uh huh. Shall I remind you of that when you're hitting on the 5th girl at 4 am insisting that you're still sober."

Alan laughed, "Something like that," he replied, instantly thankful that Tin Tin was not around to hear of his antics.

Kenny misinterpreted his glazed look and poked Alan in the ribs, "Ah, so you're having a one girl night, huh? Don't worry, I'll make sure that Tracey is there."

"Kenny, no." Alan whined.

Kenny just waved a dismissive hand and walked off, passing Scott as he did so. Alan caught Scott's eyes and was very suddenly aware that something was wrong.

Scott grabbed Alan's arm and whispered in his ear, "Kurayoshi, Tottori, Japan – building collapse." Then Scott turned to leave and Alan started to follow. "Not you," Scott hissed, "you're not a hundred percent yet. Virgil, Gordon and myself will handle this one. You enjoy your last day with the crew – this is your holiday, remember?"

Alan nodded submissively.

Scott then called across the room, "Malone!"

Kenny's head shot up from his work. "Yeah?"

"I gotta get back, keep an eye on Alan for me, huh?"

"Scott, I'm right here," Alan protested.

"Sure thing, Scott." Kenny replied cheerfully.

"Guys, I can hear you!" Alan called again.

Still not paying heed to Alan's cries, Scott waved a farewell to the rest of the workshop and left.