This story was written as a response to the Tracy Island Writers Forum 2005 Spring Challenge. Credit goes to fellow Tracy Island Chronicles author Molly Webb, who wrote the text shown at the beginning of the story in italics.

Jeff Tracy had been at work in his office at Tracy Corp headquarters since 7:00 a.m. His briefcase lay open on one corner of his desk, balancing the stacked piles of papers and reports that nearly covered the gleaming expanse of black glass. He was lost in concentration on a particularly troublesome spreadsheet when his cell phone rang. Absently he picked it up and answered, his eyes still on the paper before him. "Jeff Tracy."

There was a pause, and then a voice replied. "The Jeff Tracy?"

Jeff frowned, full attention suddenly focused on the phone at his ear. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

Again there was a pause before the voice answered. "I found it in your son's wallet."

Chapter One

"Oh, really, and just how did you come by this wallet?"

"Why, in the usual manner, Jeff. I simply took it from his pocket."

Jeff paused for a beat before formulating his reply. Veiled threats on his family were nothing new to this head of a billion dollar corporation. In the years since reaching the pinnacle of success in the business of aerospace and the many other facets of Tracy Corp, Jefferson Tracy had heard from more than his share of the seedier elements of humanity. Usually, those phone calls were pre-screened and never actually reached his office. He wondered then how this individual had come to bypass the usual protocols.

"I'll tell you what," he began. "You go back into that hole you climbed out of and I'll forget that this sham of yours was ever initiated."

"Sham? No sham, my dear Mr. Tracy. But if you think so, I'll just hang up and you can determine the legitimacy of my claim when one of your boys suddenly becomes AWOL."

"Alright, if you do indeed have one of my sons, I need to know why and what your terms for releasing him are."

"Later, my friend, later. For now, it is enough that you are aware that I have him."

"I don't suppose you'd like to share with me what his name is, would you?"

"Oh, I think that will become apparent soon enough. After all, you only have five sons, all of which are employed by your company. Whose shift of duty is it in New York this week anyway, Jeff?"

Nothing had ever been able to rattle the usually stoic billionaire quite like the thought of someone capturing and perhaps harming his sons. Of course that possibility was present every time they went out on a rescue. But, he reasoned, at least in those situations, they usually had some semblance of control over what the outcome would be.

Now, however, he had only this word of a stranger, and an unscrupulous one at that, on the other end of a phone conversation to rely on to determine the condition of one of the people most precious to him.

Suddenly this concerned father, a man of honor and ethics in both the business world and in his private life, became angry, very angry that someone would try to bait him like this. He felt the heat travel all the way up his neck to his now burning ear lobes. His voice shook with fury as he made his meaning clear.

"Look, my intellectually stunted friend, if you were half as clever as you believed yourself to be, you'd know that I decided to give myself and my family a break and had put one of my consultants in charge of all office related matters in New York for the time being. Now, I don't know how you got this number, or how your call wasn't intercepted, but if you ever try anything remotely like this again, I'll hunt you down and make damn sure that you'll never be able to use that keypad or anything else involving the use of an extremity again. And make no mistake, I can do it."

One thing he always hated about the use of vidphones and wireless devices is that you couldn't make a show of slamming the receiver down on someone. Petty as it was, it would have given him a great deal of satisfaction just then. He had had it. It was bad enough that International Rescue had to be constantly looking over its shoulder in public situations but to have the private lives of his family intruded upon as well was taking its toll. He told himself to calm down, that it wasn't worth getting his blood pressure up. It wasn't as if they hadn't had any reason to expect this sort of thing, but the audacity...

No Jeff, you have to stop this, he told himself. He considered it a waste of time to worry about such things when there were MORE PRESSING MATTERS AT HAND...More pressing matters at hand...more pressing matters...

"Wha...a...NO!" Salt and pepper locks virtually snapped up from the polished desktop, along with the head they covered. Jeff caught himself and his leather bound chair before they both fell over backwards. Damn! He had fallen asleep. He half berated himself and half sighed with despondency as he realized that he preferred the scenario he had lived out in his dream to the one that currently filled his waking reality with dread.

His sons...his life. He willingly sent them out into some of the most dangerous situations imaginable on a regular basis. But, to have their lives threatened simply because he was their father, well, he would never have forgiven himself if that bastard and his army of goons had succeeded in...

No, he couldn't let his mind go there. He wouldn't let his mind go there. To have lost them, all three of them, he couldn't imagine what his life would have been like had that unspeakable scheme succeeded. His eyes wandered over to the portraits of his boys that Virgil had painted so long ago. To not see their faces ever again or hear their brotherly banter as they entered the lounge together was something he knew he could never bear. It was one thing to have them die saving the lives of others, but...

"Okay, Jeff,"he told himself. "Just knock it off or they'll have all the evidence they need to send you off to the booby hatch." He tried to distract himself by looking through a pile of papers on the corner of his desk. It was in vain. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to that awful time a couple of weeks ago. It had been a hellish month for International Rescue. It seemed like they'd had one call after another, each one more difficult than the last. He could see in his boys' eyes what it was costing them both physically and emotionally. They never complained though and the pride he felt every time he looked at them threatened to burst forth from his chest. As things began to quiet down, he figured they'd earned a well deserved break. He had tried to schedule some "shore leave" for them by working it in shifts, since at no time could they all be away from the tropical island base.

It seemed like a good idea at the time and the five Tracy siblings were very agreeable to getting some time away from their frenzied pace of late. After careful deliberation...and several flips of a coin, it was determined that the first shore leave would be granted to the astronaut, the communications monitor and the field commander. The reasoning behind this being that Thunderbird Three was dispatched primarily as a means of ferrying personnel and equipment up to Thunderbird Five, since there were not many space rescues. Thunderbird Five, on the other hand, could be put on automation for a few days without any loss of communications efficiency. Thunderbird One was valuable as a reconnaissance craft and her pilot as the director of field operations. But, most rescues could not be carried out without the big green workhorse of the fleet, Thunderbird Two. As Virgil was her pilot and Gordon the back-up, it was decided that they should remain on the island for now, due to the fact that it was also time to run a recurrent diagnostics check of the great hulking ship's systems. Who better to preside over it than her main crew?

At first Scott had voiced his objection to Virgil remaining behind after what they had all been through lately. He even volunteered to stay in Gordon's place if their father wouldn't allow the two of them to be away from the island at the same time, arguing that he could help with the workup on Thunderbird Two instead.

He argued that is, until his father made it quite clear that either the three of them leave now, or no one would be leaving at all. Reluctantly, he acquiesced and headed to his room to pack.

At sunrise the next morning, Tracy One left its berth in the hangar and began its takeoff roll with Scott in the pilot's seat. John and Alan were only too happy to sit back and relax while their older brother did the driving. The flight to Sydney was not a long one, but it was a rather quiet one as the two younger siblings had already passed out from sheer exhaustion.

"Okay, this is going to be a fun trip," Scott practically sighed. "I'm going to be stuck all week long with Droopy and Eeyore here."

"Hey, I heard that." John opened one eye at Scott's remark and did his best to raise an eyebrow.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead to the world, Droopy?"

"Droopy, huh? You haven't exactly been the life of the part lately either, Big Brother. You've even been sleeping almost as much as the rest of us, Captain 'I'll Be There for Reveille.'"

Scott mumbled something unintelligible.

"Oh, struck a nerve, have I?" John retorted.

Scott wiped a hand over his face and tried to get a grip.

"Okay, look. We're all tired and a bit cranky," he said while looking pointedly at John. "What say we call a truce and just try to make the most of a very rare opportunity? After all, how long do you think it's gonna be before Dad lets us out of the compound on our own recognizance again?"

"Tis true, Scotty boy. What sayest thou, Al?"

Alan, who had momentarily revived upon hearing the rather loud conversation, gave a somewhat less than complete response and then drifted back off to sleep.

"That's good enough for me, especially coming from Alan." Scott replied, a glimmer of amusement now threatening to color his distinctive features.

+>>>>>+>>>>>+

The rest of the flight passed by uneventfully and in what seemed like no time at all, they were making their final approach onto the landing strip in Sydney.

Though it was currently the winter season in their native Kansas, the climate 'down under' called for beach wear. The sun hung brightly overhead as three young men wearing aviator shades deplaned with what seemed like very little in the way of luggage. But then, they hadn't planned on taking a lot of time to unpack. For the next few days, time was theirs and they were not about to waste a precious second of it.

Over on the other side of the airfield, the arrival of the Tracy Corporation jet had not gone unnoticed. A lone figure, silhouetted under the shade of an aircraft wing, brought the small phone he carried in his hand up to his lips...