Chapter 3

"But Father, John has his conference coming up in a couple of days, he'll miss it." Alan protested, having just been informed that he was to stay on Tracy Island for a few more days.

"I spoke to him and he is going to get a link up to the proceedings from Thunderbird Five."

"But he's already been up there for three weeks, that's hardly fair."

"I told him that you were still experiencing headaches and after your last little insistence that you were fine he agreed with me that it's better we keep you here for at least another few days."

"But really, I'm-"

"Fine?" Jeff asked, cutting Alan off. "We've heard that one before. There is no point in arguing this, the decision has been made."

Alan slumped in his chair feeling defeated and the headache did nothing to improve his mood. "Can't you at least send Scott, or Virgil, or Gordon?"

"There really is no point since you'll be up there in a few days. Don't worry about it Alan, just get yourself fully rested. We'll talk about changeover in a few days."

The next few days were however incredibly long for the entire family. Alan was determined to prove just how fine he was and in doing so was driving the rest of his family crazy. In between his endeavours Alan would sneak off to contact John to try and convince him that he would enjoy the conference so much more if he were really there.

While John was occasionally tempted, he consistently refused, usually more frustrated by Alan's intrusion in the middle of a particularly fascinating presentation of some paper or another. It was for this latter reason that Alan was so surprised when John contacted him.

"John, what's up?"

"There's just been a massive explosion of some kind at the convention."

"How bad?"

"I don't know, my telemetry is out and reports have only just started coming in."

"Are we going to be needed?"

"I don't think so, but I'd certainly like to inform father of the events."

As John spoke the words, Jeff came bounding into the room having heard John's alert.

"John, what's happening?"

"Father, there's been an explosion at the convention…" he trailed off and his eyes flicked to a nearby monitor for a moment. "Seems that all three floors have been taken down. Emergency services already on site."

"Ok, it sounds like they're dealing with it alright so far, let us know if they call for help."

"Will do, Father."

John leaned forward to cut off the communications, but was stopped by Jeff. "Oh, and son, keep an eye on the investigation for me, huh? I want to know who did this any why."

"F.A.B."

With that the communication was cut off and Jeff was left alone with Alan. He looked over at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"You're sure."

"Yes father."

Jeff seemed to be considering something, indecision evident on his face for several seconds. Then the expression was wiped clear from his face and he regained his stoicism and issued Alan with an order. "Go find your brothers then, I think we need to have a talk."

Alan raised his eyebrows suspiciously, but did not attempt to pursue the matter, knowing it would be faster to obey his instructions.

Moments later Alan returned with three of his brothers in tow. Scott and Virgil had clearly been in the middle of a tennis game and each had a degree of perspiration glistening on their skin. Gordon looked slightly more damp and had probably been swimming earlier that day (a fact which could be deduced without any visual confirmation regardless).

Jeff looked over his sons and then instructed them to sit. As they piled onto the couches Jeff poured himself a whiskey and took a cigar out of the box on his desk, but did not light it. Sitting lightly on the arm of a chair he took in a deep breath.

"Boys, I think we may have some security issues."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Scott knew what his father was about to explain, however had no idea of the latest developments. However Virgil and Gordon were clearly oblivious to Jeff's meaning.

Jeff continued. "As you know, Alan had an…incident at Harbour Park and Scott and I have suspicions that it may have been caused by sabotage of some sort." Virgil shot Scott a dirty look, clearly displeased with Scott's refusal to share that piece of information with him.

Gordon however was more vocal of his concerns and started, "Really? Alan, is it true?"

"FURTHERMORE," Jeff continued overtop of Gordon who promptly sat back and waited for his father to finish. "Furthermore," he repeated, "John has just informed me that the convention he was to attend in LA has been struck by an explosion of some kind." Knowing that Alan alone was aware of this Jeff took particular interest in Scott's reaction, but Scott's face revealed nothing of his emotion and thus Jeff carried on. "While I am aware coincidence can be a deceptive phenomenon, I do not believe in taking chances and thus effective immediately you are not to leave the island, except for you Alan who will take over duties on Thunderbird Five in two days time. I will co-pilot. We will await the investigative reports on each incident and if either gives me strong enough evidence to believe that foul play is at hand all five of you will be confined to the island until such time as the cause or causes are eliminated, rescues being the obvious exception."

Taking a sip of his whiskey he indicated that he had finished.

Again Gordon was the first to find his voice, "Are you suggesting that they are targeting the Tracy's or International Rescue?"

"The fact that both events have occurred in relation to activities not related to International Rescue indicates that any possible foul play will be targeting the son's of a millionaire, rather than the organisation. Of course, I do not intend to rule the latter out as a possibility."

-

Alan sat heavily onto his bed and rubbed his hands over his face. The discussion had dragged out through the afternoon and John was sporadically included. They had gone over and over the two incidents and Scott had shown the family his findings on the Stoker engine. At that point Brains had been brought into the discussion and Grandma had eventually walked in on the conversation and gave Jeff a mild ear chewing for having to find out 'this way'; an event which gave the boys much entertainment.

Alan was now flooded with thoughts of the crash though. It certainly wasn't his first, but it was unnerving nonetheless. He always remembered being told that every driver has one bad crash which usually slows them down for a long time if not permanently, having reminded them of their own mortality. He would never admit it, but even the follow up admission to the hospital had left him shaken. And to think that it was all caused intentionally, that someone had intended for him to die in that inferno served only to intensify the emotions.

His door creaked open and Tin Tin poked her head around, wordlessly asking for permission to enter.

Alan smiled and indicated for her to come in with a quick flick of his hand. Tin Tin sat on the bed beside Alan and put one arm around Alan's head pulling it onto her shoulder and found his hand with hers. Alan did not resist and for almost fifteen minutes they sat there in silence, barely moving.

When they finally moved and Alan felt much more in control he pulled a small hip flask out of a draw and took a sip. Out of habit he offered it to her, already knowing she would refuse. He did not know how she found out what had transpired, but true to form she was well aware of what was going on. Probably more so than the others as she alone realised how hard this had hit Alan. She had known it the moment that he walked in the front door – he was subdued and his eyes vaguely haunted. She had seen that look in the mirror after often enough after witnessing the accident on TV.

"I can't believe it." Alan mumbled.

"We don't know for sure," Tin Tin ventured. "I mean, it could just be a coincidence."

"You didn't see Scott's report did you?"

"Well, I heard about it, but engines are a little different to biology."

Alan shrugged. "I just can't see how an car could be that horrendously compromised without malicious intent. But the one thing I don't understand is that they left so much evidence of it. I mean shouldn't they at least have tried to cover their tracks."

"Well, it's not so obvious to me. I mean they clearly didn't go for the cliché cut in the brake cable."

"If they want to try that, good luck – the Stoker has disc brakes on all four."

"Alan," Tin Tin whined.

"What? It does? Y'know, hydraulics – they'd get brake fluid everywhere. It'd be a little noticeable."

Tin Tin sighed, resigning any hope of Alan understanding. "Just don't get yourself too worried over it. Your father has this thing covered. If nothing else we're lucky that nobody has been seriously hurt."

Alan mulled the thought over. It was true that the convention had yielded a long list of fatalities and among them some of the brightest minds on the subject. He realised that John's name could have easily been among those and they did indeed have a lot to be thankful for. However, the realisation was a cold comfort as the accompanying logic was that something similar could equally happen at any time.

A moment later Tin Tin shot up. "Hey Alan."

"Mmm?"

"I may not know engines, but I do know chemistry. If you are talking about post forming hydrogenation then you're looking at specialised equipment right?"

"Well technically it could be achieved by anyone with carburising equipment, or nitriding or cyaniding-"

"But the chambers would have to be big enough to fit an engine."

"Most of them are."

"Ok, so maybe the reason they didn't bother to cover their tracks is because they felt confident that they were untraceable. I mean any fingerprints would be long gone, it's a common process and hundreds of people are around the car every day."

Alan stiffened. "But the engine only left the shop a few times." His face slackened in realisation.

"Surely they'd have done it before it even entered the workshop."

Alan shook his head, "No, they would have no way of knowing which engine would be coming our way." He paused considering how easily the acceptance of 'they' had been.

"Where was the engine sourced from?"

"It'll have come from a restorers fresh collection, I'm not sure which."

"But Alan, don't you see? If this was indeed a malicious attack then between the order being packaged and you getting in the car that day only a finite number of people would have had an opportunity to make the modifications."

Alan nodded along and then grabbed Tin Tin's hand. "We'd better tell father."

-

Scott could clearly concede each of the points that his father had listed to him. Yes, he agreed that Alan's theory was logical and was worth looking into. He also agreed that he did not want Alan flying so soon after the accident. He also agreed that Father was a busy man and did not have time to look into the matter in detail. However from what little logic he had studied as a part of his mathematical education he knew that several unfounded and unapparent leaps of mental deduction were what had lead him to his current position – that of sitting in a cockpit for several hours with nothing to entertain him other than the loud snoring of his brother Gordon. It was a sensation that only a pilot could truly understand. The thrill of flight dulled over the years and the interesting stuff only ever really came by with takeoffs and landings and of course wing to wing combat and aeronautics.

The pair had been sent to investigate the source of Alan's engine, see if there was any potential interference, profile the supplier, general PI work. Scott mused that perhaps International Rescue should consider permanently branching out into the field – they seemed to end up doing this more frequently than average Joe off the street. Of course, he would hate it; nothing compared with the thrill of a rescue and it was easily a more important job.

Still none of it answered why it had to be him.

-

"Look, I don't know what sort of game you're playing at, but if it's some sort of lawsuit or insurance scam you can keep it well away from me. I only deal in high quality goods." The business that Scott had traced the engine to appeared to be a one-man outfit. The balding man of diminutive stature was however deceptively strong in his defence. Scott hypothesised that he had dealt with several pushy customers before assuming they could take advantage of the supposed weakness.

"We're not trying to cause trouble, we just want to know the cause of the accident." Gordon appealed.

"Sounds to me like you already know what you want to hear. Well guess what? I'm not your fall guy."

"Please, if you could just tell us who came into contact with the engine while it was here and during its delivery."

"How in the hell do you expect me to know something like that? I haven't got time for this. I've got work to do, you know. This place doesn't run itself." The words were forceful, but the man seemed relatively calm.

"Could you at least tell us the name of the delivery company you use?" Scott broke in.

"Quick-Post." The man quickly replied, picking up a folder that lay to his left, attempting to prove his earlier point.

"Could we see the records for the delivery?"

"Don't you people keep your delivery slips?" He asked with exasperation. He looked at the two, but their expressions remained impassive. He sighed. "I'll have a look OK. But those records go back a few days. It'll take a while."

"Thank you." Gordon offered sincerely, "We appreciate it."

"Good. To properly express that appreciation, how about you duck over to Jay's bakery two blocks down and pick me up one of those nice filled rolls an apple turnover."

Scott smiled and nodded. "I'll go. Gordon, you can stay here and help Mr…."

"Beer, Allen Beer."

"Mr Beer." Scott agreed checking to make sure his wallet was in his pocket before ducking out the door.

Gordon looked back at Allen and offered a trademark saccharine smile. "Where do I start looking?"

Allen sighed again and led Gordon to his office. As soon as Gordon saw the state of the office he realised exactly why this was going to be so hard. Allen looked at Gordon, daring him to say something about the mess. Gordon smiled politely again, but a little weaker than before.

"I've got a file for Wilson's team, they're a regular," Allen explained as he opened a drawer in a filing cabinet and searched through it for a minute. Eventually he pulled out a thick folder and handed it to Gordon.

Gordon reached out to take it, but Allen did not let go. "You're sure that Wilson is ok with this? You're not some sneaky reporters or something are you."

"No, of course not," Gordon replied and seeing Allen's continued indecision he let go of the folder and pulled out his wallet. He extracted his driver's licence and held it out for Allen to see. "I'm Alan Tracy's older brother."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Allen and he offered the folder once more.

Gordon flicked through it, finally finding the documents regarding the Wilson teams most recent orders just as Scott walked back in. Gordon looked up at him, gratefully accepting the snack that he had brought.

Scott nodded at the documents. "Find anything?"

Gordon took a big bite and nodded. "Here's all the details here, picked up on 7 July at 1.23 pm by personnel ID 45234." His words were mumbled by the food rolling around in his mouth.

"Gordon, for goodness sake make sure you don't get food on any of this stuff. That's the last thing we need."

"Really? I mean, I think I can just about document this guy's eating habits from this file alone."

Scott inspected the said paper and noticed that it did contain several grease and ketchup stains. "Yeah, well lets just not make it any worse. Lets get a copy of those papers."

Gordon nodded in agreement and stood up and shoved the papers into the photocopier quickly, not wanted to risk refusal on Allen's behalf. Scott seemed to understand that and stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, blocking any possible view of Gordon.

With their work finished they quickly excused themselves, thanking Allen profusely who seemed to have warmed up to them slightly having some food in his stomach and seeing that they were leaving without any significant trouble.

Once outside and down the road towards the bus stop Gordon and Scott conferred and agreed to check out the delivery company and then call it a day.

Unfortunately the headquarters of Quick-Post were 3 stops away and the lack of air-conditioning on the bus left Gordon feeling sticky and tired and consequently grumpy. Scott, having not enjoyed the benefit of sleep on the way over was also beginning to feel this way, but he was aware of this and resolved not to allow this to affect his behaviour. He could only hope that the company was not as trying as Allen had been.

Unfortunately the secretary at Quick-Post seemed to be extremely busy, indifferent to her job and also incompetent. She responded to their request with what seemed to be a rehearsed answer: that delivery-person identification was not released and all they could do was fill out a complaint form if the goods had been damaged in transit. Her tone of voice clearly indicated that she hoped that was not the case and Gordon and Scott obliged, knowing that such avenues would not yield results.

With that the two retired for the day, with tired eyes and minds. Scott had intended to get Gordon to fly them home, but seeing the fatigue in his brother's face he decided to do it himself…it at least afforded him the pleasure of a smooth takeoff into a beautiful dusk horizon.

-

By the time Scott and Gordon got back to Tracy Island John was back and Alan had started his relief on Thunderbird 5. John was itching to get back out into the 'real world' as he called it and he made it more than obvious that he considered it a brazen deprival of his rights to keep him cooped up in the family home for his brief week on solid ground.

He had quickly been brought up to speed on the latest findings from Scott and Gordon. Alan, Virgil and Jeff had been working through what information John had retrieved on the conference explosion and preliminary reports had concluded a terrorist attack as primarily indicated by the explosives residue and the nature of the incident. However all leads had presently lead to dead ends and thus the group responsible seemed to be indeterminate at this time. Profilers expected that the people responsible would either lay claim to the actions in a matter or weeks or engage in a second similar action. Jeff had declared the results of the collaborative research effort inconclusive and thus the house confinement remained in place.

It did not take 48 hours for John to crack.

"Scott, this is ridiculous. I'm going to the mainland for a few hours. I have to get out of here."

"John, don't be stupid. Father will kill you."

"And staying here won't?"

"No less than what they might." No clarification was required for Scott's reference to 'they'.

"It's all based on coincidence and conjecture. You can't really buy into Father's theory."

"So you blame what happened on what? Someone that's morally opposed to astronomical endeavours." Scott spat derisively.

"Yes!" John cried, "Maybe, religious nuts or something. I don't know, but something. I do not see what anyone could gain from killing any of us."

"And because you cannot see that you are more willing to believe in fanaticism which you claim that you equally validly cannot explain?"

"Scott…" John trailed off and Scott did not interrupt, knowing he was beginning to get through.

John looked over at Scott desperately, trying to find some hint of weakness in his resolve and finding none he hung his head again. "Yes sir," he mumbled.

Scott let the submission hang quietly in the air, fortunately having enough maturity not to gloat over his victory. "Thank you, John," he finally finished "Thank you."