Forty years on, and it's time to party!
Seven: Party Time"Come on, Virg," Scott poked his head into his brother's bedroom. "It's time we should be down in the hangar…" he paused. "What are you looking for?"
Virgil dropped the blankets and got up from where he was looking under his bed. "Thunderbird Two's control yoke. I can't find it anywhere."
Scott stared at his brother. "You're going to a celebration and you're worried about that?"
"I'm sure I left it on that chair," Virgil pointed at the piece of furniture in question. "I'm positive I haven't shifted it."
"Have you checked your study?"
Virgil nodded. "It's weird. It's like it vanished into thin air…"
"Worry about it later. Come on…"
"But where could it have gone?"
"I don't know… Like I don't know why you're worrying about it at this precise moment…"
"I'm not worried…"
"Good! Come on then…"
Virgil scratched his head, frowned at the chair, and didn't move.
"Virgil!" Scott said in exasperation. "It's not even as if you know what you're going to do with it! It's only cluttering up your room."
"I've carted it all the way from the North Pole. How can I lose it here?"
"Look, Virg. It's been a hectic few days. You've been tired, and you probably shifted it without realising." Scott watched as his brother optimistically picked up a few books and looked underneath them. "Tell you what, once the party's over, if you still can't find it, I'll give you a hand looking… Okay?"
"Okay… Thanks…" Virgil stood in the middle of his room and looked about him. "I wish I knew where it'd gone…"
"Oh, come on," Scott dragged his brother out of the bedroom. "We've got a celebration to go to!"
They joined the rest of the household in one of the control rooms off Thunderbird Two's hangar. "Is everyone here?" Jeff asked. "Boys? Brains? Mother? Tin-Tin? Kyrano? Penny? Parker?"
Everyone was present.
"Why the secrecy, Jeff?" Mrs Tracy asked. "Everyone at the party knows who we are. Why not launch her out in the open?"
"Because releasing too much information could be dangerous," Jeff growled. "I trust every person on this island, but it would only take one slip of the tongue, intentional or otherwise, and all our hard work could be ruined. If they don't know where the hangars are, then if they are ever forced to talk they can't give away all our secrets. We'd still hold the upper hand."
"You're in a real party mood, aren't you, Dad?" Alan said. "Relax! No one here's going to give us away."
Lady Penelope and Parker exchanged uneasy glances.
"Come on, everyone," Jeff led the way into the hangar. Apart from a dim light showing them where to walk, the room was in darkness.
"Alan, leave Tin-Tin alone," Gordon quipped.
"I'm nowhere near her," Alan told him indignantly.
"Then come walk beside me, Tin-Tin," Gordon suggested.
The Tracy brothers, all except Alan, laughed. Tin-Tin was glad of the darkness to hide her burning face.
There was an indignant sound from Lady Penelope. "Who did that?"
"S-s-sorry, L-Lady P-Penelope," Brains stuttered. "I-I w-was t-trying t-to p-put a s-screwdriver away."
"Well it won't go there!"
More laughter circulated through the group.
"Calm down, Boys," Jeff Tracy's voice brought a serious tone back to the gathering. "Where's Virgil?"
"Here, Father." His voice came from the back of the group. "I'm beside the sound system."
"Well switch it on and get over here."
Virgil did as he told, managing to tread on a few toes in the process. "Sorry!"
Parker swore under his breath and started hopping about, bumping into a few other featureless bodies as he did so.
"Parker, keep still. You nearly knocked Mrs Tracy over then."
"I'm over here, Lady Penelope."
"Oh, well then who…?"
"It was me, Lady Penelope."
"Sorry, Kyrano. Jeff! Is this darkness really necessary?"
"It won't be long now… Virgil, didn't you turn the sound system on?"
"I thought I had, it's a bit hard in the dark…"
Scott found a torch, switched it on and pointed it at the control panel that was positioned at the back of the group. "No, you turned on the recorder. I hope you didn't tape over anything important." He pushed a couple of buttons and the conversation of the last few seconds was played back to them.
"Sorry!"
"#$"
"Parker, keep still. You nearly knocked Mrs Tracy over then."
"I'm over here, Lady Penelope."
"Oh, well then who…?"
"It was me, Lady Penelope."
"Sorry, Kyrano. Jeff! Is this darkness really necessary?"
"It won't be long now… Virgil didn't you turn the sound system on?"
"I thought I had, it's a bit hard in the dark…"
"No, you turned on the recorder. I hope you didn't tape…"
Scott pushed the off switch and changed tracks.
A light piece of music started playing. Hidden by the darkness Virgil grimaced as he listened. He obviously hadn't been in the best of moods when he'd started composing. He cringed at what, to him, was a cacophony of sound. The rest of the group seemed unconcerned.
"Well, Virgil?" Jeff was saying. "Do you want to do the honours?"
"Okay. Scott, where's that torch?" Virgil asked. "I don't want to hit the self destruct button by mistake." There was a titter of amusement from the assembled company. Scott prodded Virgil in the back with the torch and he took it with a word of thanks. Then he hesitated, listening. The music was more vibrant and alive now. He must have written it while he was still excited at the thought of designing the Mark II.
"Well, Virgil?" Jeff repeated.
"I think everyone should help," Virgil said. "After all, she doesn't belong to only me, she's a part of International Rescue…" he turned the torch onto a large green button on a pedestal in front of him and lightly laid his hand on it. "This is as much your baby as mine, Brains. Come and help me." He slid his hand over so that it covered the left edge of the button and Brains nervously laid his small hand beside Virgil's. "C'mon, Father. You're next."
Smiling in the darkness, Jeff Tracy placed his hand on top of his son's. "Scott."
"Yeah, sure." Scott's hand appeared out of the gloom to cover his fathers. "John…"
John, Gordon, Alan, Mrs Tracy, Kyrano, Lady Penelope joined the huddle. "You too, Parker," Jeff ordered.
"Yes, Mr Tracy." The butler's hand went topmost.
"Okay, everyone," Virgil said. "We're coming to a countdown. You'll know when to push."
They waited.
The music built in intensity, powering into a crescendo.
"Ready..." Virgil said. "Five! Four!"
They caught his tempo. "Three!" they chimed.
"Two!"
"One!"
"Thunderbirds Are Go!"
There was the crash of cymbals as they pressed the button. Spotlights burst into action, swinging around till their beams came to rest on the new aircraft in front of them. Coloured lights swirled in a dazzling rainbow display. Confetti rained down on the little group and onto the latest addition to the Thunderbird Fleet.
The Mark II was displayed in all her glory. Her new paint finish glittered in the lights. The legend "Thunderbird 2" was proudly painted just behind and below the cockpit windows.
To Lady Penelope and Parker, who had not had the opportunity to see the plans or the Mark II during construction, the climax was a bit of a let down. Apart from the fact that the craft was cleaner, shinier and newer than the old one, they couldn't see any difference.
The Tracys could all detect minor differences though and Virgil slid his hand from under the pile of others and wandered around so that he could have a closer look. He'd been so busy with the preparations that it was the first opportunity that he'd had to look at his new craft in its entirety. Now that the lights were fully on, the rest of the group were able to watch him inspect the Thunderbird.
He looked mildly depressed.
"Well, Virg?" Scott asked. "What do you think?"
Virgil turned back to his family and friends. "It's the wrong colour!"
Everyone groaned.
"For Pete's sake, Virgil!" Gordon sounded exasperated. "I said you had paint in your veins. What do you mean it's the wrong colour? It's dark green."
"But it's the wrong shade!"
"Does it matter?" John asked. "I can't tell the difference."
"You will when we get it out into daylight and you compare it with the pods. They're still the original colour."
"We'll repaint them," Jeff said, trying to be consolatory, even though, like his sons, he couldn't see what the problem was. "Apart from that, what do you think?"
"Well…" Virgil gave a wry grin. "It'll do."
He was jumped on by his brothers and wrestled to the ground.
Jeff shook his head in exasperation.
"Get up, Boys! You'll get your clothes dirty!" Grandma scolded. "Really," she huffed, "you do behave like children sometimes… and in front of guests too."
Her grandsons obediently stood and dusted down their clothes.
"Why don't you show Penny and Parker the interior, Virgil?" Scott suggested.
"I'm simply dying to see it, but shouldn't we be getting back to your guests?" Lady Penelope asked. "Perhaps when the party's over."
"We've plenty of time, and I'm sure Virgil would love to show you the cockpit," Jeff said, and Lady Penelope was surprised to see him give her a wink.
"Sure!" Virgil said. "Come on, Penny. You'll see some major changes to the flight deck. And it's guaranteed vermin free." He eagerly led the way.
As they took the lift upwards, Virgil explained about the new and improved features of his revamped craft. "So you see the Mark II's…" he hesitated for a moment. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to calling her Thunderbird Two from now on, aren't I?"
"Yes, you are," his father agreed, "because no one else in the world is going to know the difference."
They didn't hear Parker mutter, "You could've fooled me."
The doors slid open to the cockpit. Everything was shiny and new and looked suitably high-tech. Virgil strode over to his pilot's seat. "We've miniaturised the piloting computer and installed a second one as back up here," he indicated the appropriate part of the flight console. "We've also been able to install more operational controls in here, freeing up space in the body of the craft."
"Your seat's already 'ere," Parker noted. "Don't you no longer slide down your chute thing from the lounge?"
"Oh, no, that's still the same." Virgil smiled. "It was the most efficient way of getting down here so we saw no need to change it. If you look up there…" he turned and pointed at the ceiling, "you can see the hatch where I…"
He stopped talking.
As Lady Penelope and Parker watched, his hand had dropped to his side. Staring at the rear bulkhead, he took a step forward, before he stopped again and turned to his family. "How…?"
They were all grinning. "What do you think, Virg?" Alan asked.
"I…" Virgil appeared to be having difficulty articulating exactly what he was thinking. He stepped forward again.
There, on the rear wall of the flight deck, bronzed and proudly mounted on a simple wooden plaque, was the control yoke he'd brought back with him from the North Pole. Gently Virgil ran his fingers around the rim of the unit before reading the inscription above it. "Remembering the original Thunderbird Two – Who ended her days as she began them – Saving lives." He turned back to his family and friends again. "It's perfect," he managed to say. "Thank you."
"Thank Gordon, it was his idea," John told him.
"Yeah. And I'm still waiting for everyone to pay me their share of the bronzing kit and the plaque," Gordon announced. "The interest is accumulating."
"So… Virg… Do you still want me to help you look for the control yoke after the party?" Scott asked.
Virgil glared at him. "You knew! You watched me look for it and you knew where it was all along!"
"Of course I knew. I was the one who smuggled it out of your room. You don't think I'd let Gordon loose in there, do you?"
"Nice!" Gordon growled. "I thought we were supposed to trust each other."
"Gordon, I would, and do, trust you with my life," Scott informed him. "But letting you roam unattended in any of our private rooms? No chance!"
"Ah!" Gordon seemed quite pleased. "My reputation stands!" He was in a playful mood. "You realise, Virg, that now you've got two yokes to carry when you crash this 'pl…"
His words were cut short when John snared him in a headlock. "You've done something pretty special. Don't spoil it by opening your mouth."
"Virgil," Brains began, "I-I've been meaning to ask you. The f-flight recorder shows that you had lost a lot of height before Th-Thunderbird Two started breaking up. It p-probably saved your lives. Why d-did you do that?"
"Oh..." Virgil hesitated. "Um… Well…"
"Yeah, that's right!" John had released Gordon. "You told me to sit down and buckle up before we even knew there was a problem."
"I didn't hear any alarms go off until after we started doing that 360," Gordon added. "But you knew to warn us! How come?"
Virgil was uncomfortably aware that his family was awaiting his response. "It seemed to be a good idea… at the time…"
"Ah," Scott understood. "You mean Thunderbird Two was talking to you."
"Yeah," Virgil turned pink and placed his hand on the bronzed control yoke. "She was talking to me. Telling me to land A.S.A.P."
Jeff stared at his middle son.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Alan asked.
"When you're flying Thunderbird Three…" Virgil began cautiously. "Do you rely totally on your instruments?"
Alan thought for a moment. "Well… no."
Scott continued on. "You're feeling and listening to her aren't you?"
"Well… yeah."
"I'm always listening to Thunderbird Four. It's second nature," Gordon chimed in.
"Even on Thunderbird Five I know every creak and groan," John added. "I'd know the instant anything was out of the ordinary. Is that what you mean?"
"Yeah," Scott said. "Each of us is tuned into our own craft. Our Thunderbirds 'talk' to us and we listen…"
"…So we're able to react as soon as something is out of the ordinary," Virgil explained. "That's what I did. Don't ask me what I felt or heard, but something was wrong, so I took what I felt to be the appropriate action."
"Thank heavens you did, Son, otherwise the three of you might not be here with us now." Jeff Tracy put his arm around Virgil's shoulders. "Is that why you've been a little out of sorts this last week? You've been worried that you won't be so, ah, 'in tune' with your new plane?"
Virgil nodded. "Yes. It's been preying on my mind."
"Are you still worried?" Jeff asked.
"A little. But now that I've seen her in action and had a chance to fly her, I'm more confident."
"Good," Jeff squeezed Virgil's shoulders and stepped towards the door. "Come on, everyone. We've got a party to go to."
When they reached the hangar floor and then stopped to look back at the new Thunderbird Two.
"I think it looks better than the old one," Alan said.
"Only because she's not dirty yet," John said. "Wait till she's been on a few missions."
"Excuse m-me," Brains moved away from the group. "Th-There's someone I want to s-s-see." No one commented as he hurried away.
"Scott," Jeff stepped up to his eldest. "I've been thinking. We won't worry about it now, but after the celebration's over I think we'll start planning a new Thunderbird One."
Scott paled. "What?" he said faintly.
Jeff didn't appear to notice his son's change in demeanour. "The change over between the Thunderbird Twos went relatively smoothly, so I'm confident that we can do the same with Thunderbird One."
"What?" Scott repeated.
"How long do you think you'll need to come up with a report of what improvements you can suggest? A week? A month?"
Scott nodded numbly.
"Good. Don't think about it now, but you can make a start tomorrow." Jeff strode out of the hangar followed by his family and friends.
All, except for two sons. Virgil put a supportive arm about his shocked brother's shoulders. "Never mind, Scott. Think of the improvements you can come up with."
"Yeah," Scott said dully.
"When you've got them you'll wonder how you got along without them."
"Yeah."
"Keep thinking of the positives."
"Yeah."
"Like the new safety features."
"Yeah."
"And remember… Time heals all wounds."
Scott looked at his brother. Then he managed a laugh. "Now where have I heard that before?"
"Only don't follow my example and fly Thunderbird One into a mound of snow before we've finished the Mark II."
"Virgil," Scott said solemnly. "Thanks for the advice. I'll try to remember that… I won't crash her until after the Mark II's finished." He chuckled. "Come on, we're missing a party."
For the first time since they moved to their South Pacific home, the Tracys had invited a large number of people to their tropical paradise; People of many nationalities, ages, talents, and walks of life circulated and talked under the tropical sun; People who, under normal circumstances, would never have the opportunity to interact with one another; People who were united by one fact… Each person at this party was an agent of International Rescue. Every person on Earth who knew the identity of those who piloted the mighty Thunderbirds, was present on this one little island.
Gordon stood on the patio and looked down at the throng milling around the pool. "You know, if Thunderbird One were to blow up at this very moment, International Rescue would be totally wiped out in one fell swoop."
"Well, that's a cheerful thought to start a celebration with," Alan said. "I can see you're going to be the life and soul of the party."
Gordon grinned at him. "Don't worry. I'll soon warm up."
"I never realised that we had so many agents," John said. "They've all been numbers up till now. Agent Three. Agent Sixty six…"
"Agent Double O Seven," Gordon quipped.
Down in the shade of some palm trees, Lady Penelope had met up with some old friends. "Jeremiah and… ah… Mrs Tuttle. It's wonderful to see you again. I am so glad that you were both able to attend."
"Lady Penny-lope." Jeremiah drawled as he politely raised his hat. "It's a pleasure ter mek your acquaintance agin. Ma wasn't keen on comin'. But ah said it wasn't right ter let Mister Tracy darn. Not when he offered ter fly us here 'n ev'rythin'."
"'T'ain't natural travelln' at tha' speed," Ma offered up her opinion. "Cain't be good for a body."
Lady Penelope gave a light laugh. "I'm sure the Tracys wouldn't agree with you. They would find it most difficult getting to a rescue area on time in anything slower than a Thunderbird."
"Mebbe. But mark my words, thar'll be trouble."
"I'm sure they've considered every possibility." Lady Penelope shifted the conversation to safer ground. "Are you enjoying yourself, Jeremiah?"
"Don't feel right," Jeremiah removed his battered hat and twisted it in his hands nervously. "Ah don't rightly think ah should've bin invited. Not ter a mansion like this with all these fancy folk."
"Of course you should have been invited," Lady Penelope rebuked him gently. "We are celebrating International Rescue's fifth anniversary, and if it wasn't for the pair of you, International Rescue would have ceased to exist when those two horrid men impersonated us."
"Mebbe…" Jeremiah began.
"No maybe about it," Lady Penelope corrected him. "You are an important guest at this celebration, Jeremiah, and Jeff Tracy would have been hurt if you had decided not to attend. Now, enjoy yourself," she instructed.
"Yes'm." Then Jeremiah's face broke into a beaming, toothy smile. "This is sure a purty place. I'm pickin' thar's plenty of vittels in that thar forest."
As he spoke Lady Penelope became aware of a strange ammonia type smell, which clearly came from the hillbillies. She surreptitiously took a step so she was upwind of the pair.
"Ah saw this purty burd," Jeremiah was saying. "All bright colours. Young Alan tells t'was a parrot. Only found in these here parts."
"Yes. There are a number of indigenous species on Tracy Island," Lady Penelope agreed. She took another step upwind, still trying to place the source of the mystery odour.
"'E said they don't eat 'em tho'," Jeremiah informed her. "Said they fly thar food in from th' 'Mainland'. That which Mister Kirano don't grow."
Ma Tuttle humphed. "Danged strange if you ask me. Flyin' food? Why don' they grow a few food animals, if wild uns ain't eatable?"
Trying not to be too obvious, Lady Penelope examined the hillbilly couple. Both were clearly dressed in their Sunday best, their clothes patched and worn but tidy and clean. They'd bathed and their hair was washed. "Mrs Tracy makes her own bread and pies," she said, and wished she hadn't as the odour appeared to trap itself inside her mouth. She raised her hand to her face.
"Well, th' gen'ral store ain't jus' round th' corner, Ma," Jeremiah was telling his wife. "Thar's a big body o' water out thar." He leant closer to Lady Penelope conspiratorially. "'Tween you 'n me, Lady Penny-lope, Ma ain't seen as much of th' world as we 'ave. She nev'r left th' mountin."
Lady Penelope tried not to stagger backwards as the smell washed over her. Whatever it was it was, it was coming from Jeremiah.
"'Scuse me, M'lady." Lady Penelope turned at the welcome sound of Parker's voice. "You h-are required over 'ere."
"Thank you, Parker. Do excuse me, Jeremiah, Mrs Tuttle. I do hope that we shall be able to continue our conversation later."
Jeremiah tipped his hat. "That'd be a right pleasure, Lady Penny-lope."
"Does Jeff require me?" Lady Penelope asked her butler as they walked away from the hillbillies and towards the villa.
"No, M'lady. It was a bit of subterfuge like."
"Parker?"
"H-I could see that you wanted to get h-away."
"Oh, thank you, Parker," Lady Penelope said gratefully. "They are a lovely couple, but… he… er… seemed to have rather an odoriferous problem."
"H-I thought 'e smelt a bit wiffy too," Parker admitted. "You know what h-it was, don't you?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"I 'elped 'em with their bags and 'e showed me. It's 'is aftershave."
"Aftershave? I will admit to having been in the presence of some cheap perfumes, but nothing like that!"
"'E's real proud of it. Someone brought h-it back to the States from Paris."
"As a gift? I've never smelt any Paris cologne…"
"Not as a gift, M'lady," Parker interrupted. "It belonged to a relative. He bought it when 'e was over there durin' the war."
"The war?" Lady Penelope's brow furrowed delicately. "Which war?"
"Second World War," Parker explained. "H-It's been 'anded down from father to son ever since. H-It's somethin' of a family 'eirloom, only to be used on special occasions."
"Since the 1940s? Why, it must be nearly pure vinegar. I'm surprised that… er… Mrs Tuttle puts up with it."
"To 'er, after all them animals, it probably smells like roses," Parker grinned.
"You are probably right… Still," Lady Penelope conceded, "we should be grateful for small mercies. At least she hasn't brought her exploding cans of beans with her."
"Now that'd really make the party go orf with a bang," Parker grinned.
Alan had found the one person at the party who was about his own age, good looking, and, most importantly, female. "So…" he said. "Your name's Aarna? That's a pretty name."
International Rescue's Indian agent smiled modestly.
Alan continued on with his tale. "…Anyway. I'm in this corridor. There's concrete on both sides of me and the ceiling's concrete too. I can only move forwards towards our victims or back to safety. Next thing I know this wall of fire comes towards me. I had two choices, stay and hope that my fire proof suit will withstand the inferno, or try to outrun the flames…"
"What did you do?" Aarna asked, as she looked at him wide-eyed.
"What could I do? There were people counting on me, so I stood my ground," Alan tried, and failed, to sound modest. "I could feel the heat through…"
"Alan… May I have a word?"
Alan looked at the interloper. "Ah… Tin-Tin… Uh… Have you met Aarna?"
Tin-Tin favoured Aarna with a saccharine smile. "A pleasure I'm sure. Alan, would you mind coming with me for a moment."
"Uh… Tin-Tin… I was telling Aarna about…"
"It won't take long, Alan!"
"Okay," Alan turned back to the pretty Asiatic woman. "Sorry. I'll be back soon." He jogged after Tin-Tin. "What?"
"I just wanted to warn you, Alan," she informed him.
He frowned, perplexed. "Warn me? Warn me about what?"
"I wanted to remind you that Indian gives you heart burn…"
"Huh?" he stared at her.
"And if it doesn't… Then Malaysian definitely will…"
"Tin-Tin…?" He stared at her as realisation dawned. "But I was only being friendly. She's…"
Tin-Tin stormed away.
Alan sighed, shook his head in bewilderment and turned back to Aarna.
His oldest brother had taken his place and was giving the young Indian the full force of the Scott Tracy charm. "So… You're name's Aarna? That's a pretty name. If I ever have to rescue an Aarna, I'll hope it's you. I'd love to sweep you off your feet…"
'Oh, brother!' Alan thought.
Aarna giggled. "What do you do when you're on rescues, Scott?"
"Me? I'm in charge. I'm the one who makes the life and death decisions…"
Alan sighed and decided to look for Tin-Tin again. He found her giggling coquettishly with the Ghanaian agent, a tall, dark and handsome young man who was clearly enjoying her attention.
Alan went to look for something to eat.
Scott favoured Aarna with a big smile. "Tell me about yourself," he instructed. "When you're not helping International Rescue what do you do?" He listened to her attentively for a few minutes before his 'big brother' radar kicked into action. "Excuse me, Honey. But I've got a feeling I'm going to be needed in a moment. I'll be right back." He winked at her. "Don't go anywhere."
By the pool, a stage had been set up, along with microphones and an electronic keyboard. Virgil was entertaining the guests who were standing nearby with his piano playing skills.
He hadn't stopped playing when Gordon had rushed up to him. "Virgil! He's going to his bedroom."
"Who?"
Gordon looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You know who!"
"What! But you said he wouldn't until after the party!"
"What am I, a mind reader? Come on!" Gordon tugged at his brother's sleeve.
"But I can't. Not until I've finished this piece," Virgil told him.
"You're going to miss him seeing it."
"Then stop him!"
"How?"
"I don't know. You're used to this type of thing. You come up with an idea!"
"Thanks!" Gordon folded his arms and glared at his brother. "You're a big help."
"Well…"
"What are you two up to?" Scott asked quietly as he stepped onto the stage.
Gordon was quick with his answer. "Nothing!"
"Sure…" Scott drawled. "I know that look, Gordon, and you've got a scheme brewing under that copper top of yours."
"Why do you think we're scheming?" Virgil asked.
"Because you're not thinking about what you're doing. You've played the wrong note twice."
"What!" Virgil exclaimed in dismay.
"Make that three times," Scott amended.
"See… You've ruined it already. No one's going to mind if you finish it to soon… So come on!" Gordon tugged at Virgil's sleeve again.
"What's going on?" Alan had decided to see why three of his brothers were on stage.
"These two are planning something," Scott informed him.
"If anything's going on, we've probably missed it!" Gordon moaned. "Are you coming, Virgil?"
"Okay." Virgil reluctantly abbreviated the tune and followed his younger brother off the stage and up the flight of stairs to the villa. Curious, Scott and Alan followed the pair of them.
Jeff had been watching the little drama unfold. "Will you excuse me a moment?" he murmured to Sir Jeremy Hodge. "I think I might be needed elsewhere."
"Of course, Old Boy. I understand perfectly…"
The fifth Tracy brother had been waylaid when his grandmother had requested assistance with the bringing out of more food. That task completed he resumed his intended journey. "Having fun, guys?" John asked as he walked past his siblings.
"Yep," they all responded.
He was nearly at his room when he realised that he was being tailed. "Is something wrong?"
"No… Nothing's wrong," Gordon replied.
John stared at him for a moment. He knew that expression of old. It meant that Gordon was up to something and he had an unpleasant feeling that it was going to involve him. Oh, well. He'd be safe in his bedroom… he hoped.
He slid the door open and stepped inside. The sight of something large, white and hairy on his bed pulled him up short. "What the…! How did that get in here!" He spun back towards the door. "Who did this?"
A look at his brothers' expressions gave him the answer. Gordon and Virgil's grins had identified them as the culprits, while Scott and Alan's expressions showed that they were as surprised as he was.
A fifth figure appeared at the door. Jeff Tracy stared at the object that dwarfed John's bed with bemusement. "A polar bear?"
"We didn't like the idea of John being lonely on Thunderbird Five," Virgil explained. "So we got him some company."
John took a step closer to the massive animal. A pair of glass eyes and lolling red felt tongue regarded him with a goofy expression. "You've given me a toy bear?"
"Yeah," Gordon said. "We figured that if you ever felt the need for some excitement, you and he could have a wrestling match."
"Arm wrestling," Virgil agreed.
"It's not as if you haven't had any experience," Gordon told him. "You could probably beat it one out of three bouts."
John threw a cushion at him.
The party was progressing smoothly. Half of the assembled guests were intent on making the most of their host's hospitality, while the other half were secretly hoping that International Rescue would be called out and they'd get to see the mighty Thunderbirds in action.
Virgil was in earnest conversation. "So… Aarna… That's a pretty name," he said. "Do you like music?"
"Yes," Aarna informed him. "I like all kinds of music. I heard you playing before. You're very good."
"I'm usually better," he confided. "Gordon spoilt it last time."
"Virgil! There you are!"
Virgil groaned. "Gordon!"
"I've talked Parker into giving us a song, but he needs you to play the piano for him."
"Can't Scott do it?" Virgil protested.
"He wants you to do it," Gordon informed him.
"But I'm busy!"
"You're also the best piano player in the family. Go on!"
"Okay," Virgil said reluctantly. "I'll be right back, Aarna. Next time I play a solo piece, I'll dedicate it to you."
Aarna beamed after him.
Gordon took his brother's place. "So…" he said. "Is Aarna your name? It's a pretty name…"
Virgil made it to the stage and found Parker in consultation with Alan. "What do you want me to play, Parker?"
"Play? I 'adn't thought about you playin', Mister Virgil, but it's nice of you to offer."
"Huh!" Virgil stared at the butler and then looked back to where Gordon and Aarna were obviously enjoying each other's company. They were laughing together and appeared to have forgotten all about him. He glared at his younger brother, who seemed totally oblivious to the daggers being sent his way. Then he turned back to Parker, "Well, I'm here now. Do you want me to play something?"
"Do you know ''Enery the Eighth'?" the Cockney asked.
"Sure. It's not a hard piece."
"Then we'll segue h-into 'Knees up Mother Brown'…"
"Segue?" Alan interrupted. "That sounds highly technical."
"H-it's somethin' us artistes h-understand, Mister Alan," Parker said with dignity. "H-Isn't that right, Mister Virgil?"
"Oh, yes," Virgil said, trying not to laugh. "Quite right."
"H-And then we'll 'ave 'Maybe it's because H-I'm a Londoner'."
Virgil made a note on some paper. "Fine…"
"I'll do the intro," Alan offered. He stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and Gentleman. We're in for a real treat today. Here we have for your exclusive pleasure, all the way England, your friend and mine… and someone who's handy to know if you've locked yourself out of your house or car… Give it up for Aloysius Parker!"
Parker was greeted with a round of applause.
Gordon was still talking to Aarna. "We've got this system where whoever's in trouble only needs to mention International Rescue and it's picked up by Thunderbird Five. It's easier that way, because we've found some people can't spell S.O.S."
Aarna laughed obligingly. "I suppose being in charge of Thunderbird Four you get to rescue a lot of people off shipwrecks. Do ships sink often?"
"No," Gordon replied. "Only once."
As Aarna laughed again a familiar voice intruded. "Ah, there you are, Gordon."
Gordon tried not to show annoyance as he turned to his brother. "What can I do for you, John…?" Then he remembered his companion. "Sorry. Have you met Aarna?"
"No, I haven't had the pleasure yet," John smiled at her. "Hello, Aarna."
Aarna returned his smile. "Hello, John."
"What do you want, John?" Gordon asked with a trace of impatience.
"Grandma's looking for you."
"Grandma's looking for me? Why?"
"Because I've spent most of the party helping her lay out the food and she's decided that I'm entitled to a break and that it's your turn."
"But…" Gordon protested. "I'm entertaining Aarna."
"Better get over there, little brother. You know how Grandma can be."
Gordon did know. "I'm sorry, Aarna. I'll be back as soon as I can."
As he walked away from the couple he was sure he heard John say. "Aarna… That's a pretty name."
Gordon found the refreshments table. His Grandmother was bustling around it ensuring that everything was laid out just so. "What can I do for you, Grandma?"
She gave him a warm smile. "Thank you for offering, Darling, but I think everything's sorted now. You run along and enjoy yourself."
Gordon stared at her. "So you don't need my help?"
"If you really want to, you can bring out another bowl of punch, but apart from that there's nothing I need you to do. Go make some new friends. I'm sure you can find someone to talk to."
Gordon turned back to where John and Aarna were enjoying each others company and glared at his brother.
Parker was in full swing. He'd given up on 'singing' and was cracking jokes. "This h-is a bet'er party than some H-I've 'elped out at. H-I've been to some where the water was flowing like champagne."
There was a titter from his audience. Encouraged he continued on. "H-I see Mr Tracy's checkin' 'is watch. You can always tell the 'ost at parties, 'e's the one 'oo's watchin' the clock."
Jeff chuckled good naturedly.
"H-If you don't mind a bit of advice, Sir," Parker offered. "Don't try to make your guests feel at 'ome… If they wanted to feel at 'ome, they would 'ave stayed there."
There was a roar of laughter.
"Of course, bein' one of the workin' classes, H-I don't take 'ome as much bee's 'n honey… Sorry, money… as some."
"Shame!" someone yelled.
"H-It is," Parker agreed. "But when H-I'm invited to parties H-I don't like to go empty 'anded… so H-I always wear gloves."
There was more laughter. Especially from the Tracy boys. "I always thought that was so you wouldn't leave any prints," Alan called to the entertainer.
"H-I am an 'onest man, Mister Alan," Parker said with dignity, and then cracked his knuckles. "Mind you, you never know when the old skills come in 'andy. 'Specially workin' for 'er Ladyship… Of course the last time H-I was in court, the judge concluded 'is sentence by sayin' 'H-I hope that this is the last time that you'll appear before me.' 'Why?' asks I. 'H-Are you retirin'?'"
Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan, off to one side of the stage, were in hysterics and had to lean on one another for support.
John and Aarna were still deep in conversation. "Don't you get lonely, up in space all alone?" Aarna asked.
"Not really," John admitted. "I keep myself busy with my astronomy as well as International Rescue work."
"But being home with your family and being able to go out on rescues must seem to be so different from being on Thunderbird Five."
"Totally different," he agreed. "But when I'm home they know that if there's any action to be had, I'm ready to be part of it!"
"Despite the danger?" she asked.
"Danger?" John laughed in a dismissive manner. "You learn to live with it. It's all part of being an operative of International Rescue. And you never know where the danger is going to come from. Would you believe that, during my last rescue, I was attacked by a polar bear?"
"Attacked by a polar bear!" Aarna repeated in astonishment. "Were you hurt?"
John nodded. "It had claws this long!" he demonstrated with his hands, adding an extra couple of inches to the length. "It grabbed me by the leg."
Aarna looked horrified. "John!"
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'm standing here, aren't I? I've still got the scars, but you can't let a little thing like that knock you back. During that rescue I knew that I had to keep going, no matter what. I knew that Virgil and Gordon were depending on me."
Aarna looked at him in admiration.
"John." There was a touch on his shoulder and he turned to see his father standing there. "Sorry to disturb you, but it's time."
"Okay, Dad. I'll be with you in a moment." John turned back to Aarna. "Sorry, Honey, but duty calls. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay," Aarna replied with a smile.
"Maybe tonight I'll be able to show you the stars. They look so much bigger here in the Southern Hemisphere. The moonlight's that much brighter too. No need for a torch when you walk along the beach. We might even see a Shooting Star."
"Sounds lovely," Aarna said. "Um… Hadn't you better go? Your family are waiting."
"You are right. Duty calls," John said. "I see you later." He walked away, limping manfully.
"John!" Scott called. "Hurry up!"
John forgot his limp and broke into a run.
Parker was finishing his turn. "Thank you, Ladies n Gentleman. You've been a smashin' audience. Maybe H-I'll give up me day job yet!" He bowed, stepped off the stage and ended up face to face with his employer. "Oh! M'lady," he said sheepishly, "H-I didn't mean h-it… about …"
"That's quite all right, Parker. You were most entertaining."
"Thank you, M'lady."
The five Tracy brothers stood on the patio and looked down into the courtyard. "Isn't Father ready to start the ceremony yet?" Virgil asked.
"No," John shook his head. "He's talking to someone first."
"Good." Scott ran his fingers through his hair. "Then I've got a moment to go and have a chat with Aarna."
"I wouldn't bother, Scott. She's not interested in you," Virgil told him.
"Who says?"
"I do. She and I were getting along quite nicely, until Gordon interrupted us."
"I wanted to stop you from making a fool of yourself," Gordon informed him. "She wanted someone who could make her laugh."
"You?" John laughed himself. "I think she wanted someone a little more intellectual than that. Someone who was able to talk to her at her own level."
"You mean you?" Gordon asked.
"I mean me," John said smugly.
Scott laughed. "Johnny, you're delusional. There's no way she'd chose you over me."
"Better get that big head of yours back down to size, Scott," Alan said. "You've been superseded by a younger model."
"Yes. Someone who can entertain her," Virgil said.
"Make her laugh," Gordon said.
"Show her the moon and the stars," John said.
"Where is Aarna anyway?" Alan asked, looking back over the patio railing, while shielding his eyes against the tropical sun. His brothers joined him in his search, scanning the pool and beachfront. They eventually found the young Indian, just in time to see her getting very cosy with…
"Brains!"
The five men watched as Aarna gave the young scientist a tender kiss on the cheek.
Gordon sighed. "She obviously goes for the intelligent type."
"Excuse me!" John said indignantly. "We're not exactly stupid!"
"Alongside Brains, Albert Einstein would appear stupid," Virgil informed him.
"But what's wrong with us?" Scott asked. "I mean look at us! We live in this tropical paradise…"
"Miles from anywhere," John reminded him.
"At home… with daddy…" Gordon added, "and our grandmother."
Scott wasn't about to give up. "We're young…"
"Well… most of us," Alan corrected his oldest brother.
"…Rich…"
"We're not exactly your stereotypical playboys who are always throwing money about," Virgil noted.
"…Handsome…"
No one was inclined to disagree with him on that score.
"…And being in International Rescue means there's the real possibility that we could be seriously injured or killed," Scott's positive outlook had evaporated. "No wonder girls don't look twice at us."
"No one that we'd be interested in anyway," John finished.
They watched as Brains tried to walk away and was impeded by Aarna holding his hand tightly.
"Well, I say good luck to him," John said firmly. "There's a lot to be said for the bachelor lifestyle."
"A bachelor's lifestyle or monk's?" Virgil asked him.
"Yes!' Gordon was agreeing with John. "No hassles. No one nagging you. No one telling you to do your chores or put out the trash."
"Grandma does that and you don't listen to her," Alan reminded him.
Aarna had finally, reluctantly, let Brains go. She let his fingers trail through her own and then gave him a little wave, as he began to mount the stairs. He was whistling happily to himself by the time he'd reached the top.
"Hello, Stud," Gordon greeted him.
Brains started, reddened, and gave a shy grin, before attempting to appear debonair. "S-Some of us have g-got it… and s-some of us d-don't." he said as he breathed on, and then polished his nails on his lapel.
The effect was spoilt by his still flaming cheeks.
"Well, I wish you'd share IT around," Alan complained lightly.
"What are you moaning about?" John asked him. "At least you've got Tin-Tin!"
"He's got Tin-Tin's what?" she said as she came up behind them.
"Gordon! Don't say a word!" Scott ordered, seeing a familiar devilish gleam appear in his brother's eye.
"I-I thought Mr Tracy was up here," Brains said in a self-conscious manner. "Th-That's why I-I left… uh… wh-what I was doing. Wh-where is he?" He peered short-sightedly into the shadows over the railing and received a wave from his girlfriend. "Aarna…" he sighed. "That's such a pretty name…"
Alan laughed. "I hope you didn't say that to her, Brains. That's SO corny." His brothers nodded their agreement.
"Boys!" There was a shout from down below. "Can you come down here please?"
Almost hidden in the quickly darkening night, Jeff was already on the stage. "I think we could do with some lights here," he said to Brains, who flicked the appropriate switch. As hot spotlights bathed the temporary stage, Jeff managed to convince his mother and Kyrano to join him and the rest of the team. "I think that's everyone... Do you all have some champagne?"
Everyone, including his sons, each took a glass. As the Tracy boys were technically still on duty, it was to be their only alcoholic drink of the day. None of them minded as they had long ago learnt that they could get enjoyment from just being in the company of loved family and friends.
"H-Allow me, Sir…" Before Jeff had a chance to move, Parker had grabbed the microphone. "M'lady," he said to Lady Penelope, before he turned back to the audience and continued with more gusto. "M'lords, Ladies 'n Gentleman! H-I think we'll h-all h-agree that we've 'ad a marvellous time 'ere today. As we repose h-under this radiant rainbow sky h-and h-enjoy the ravishing repast, this rapscallion is pleased to, in a radical way, reveal…"
"We've created a monster," Alan whispered to John.
"… That h-as h-a member of this famed family h-organisation, H-I 'ave pleasure in formally presenting h-our friend and founding father… Someone 'oo h-in my h-opinion is F-A-B!"
"Parker," Lady Penelope called softly.
"H-And now h-it's time to 'ear from the man 'oo made h-it possible, the man 'oo's opened 'is 'ouse to us all, the man 'oose generosity knows no bounds! The man 'oo's not afraid to put 'is money where 'is mouth is. The man 'oose ideals we identify with. The man 'oose raisin d'etre is to risk all to repress the irrepressible!"
"Parker!" Lady Penelope repeated in a louder tone.
Parker took the hint. 'Ere 'e is… The man 'oo gave us International Rescue…" he concluded. "Mis-ter Jefferson," he slapped his hand on the lectern in the manner of a gavel, "Tracy!"
There was a spontaneous round of applause from his audience, most of who had crowded closer to the stage.
Jeff took the microphone. "Ah… thank you, Parker. Next time I want to win my board members over to my side, I'll call on you."
"That would be quite h-in order, Mr Tracy. My rates h-are very reasonable."
Jeff turned back to his guests, flattening his notes on the lectern as he did so. "Friends… and I do count you as my friends; I welcome you here today. I've had the opportunity to talk to most of you, and if I haven't, I fully intend to do so before this day has finished. And because of that this will not be a long speech…"
"Hurray," Gordon applauded. "Let's drink to that!"
Everyone laughed.
Jeff chuckled before returning to his notes. "International Rescue has been operational for five years… Five years! I know there were people who after our first couple of rescues accused us of being some 'fly-by-night' organisation who would be gone as quickly as we appeared… If that were going to be the case then I would never have even considered creating this organisation. Those who deal with me in the business world know that I never start a venture if I don't believe that I have a real chance of pushing it through to completion. And, believe me, International Rescue was no different.
"I've also heard that there are those who doubt our motives. Those who can't believe that someone… anyone would willingly spend large sums of money to help complete strangers, and then disappear, with no desire for thanks or remuneration. I sincerely hope that over the five years we have encouraged those people to change their minds.
"We are also painfully aware that there are those out there who would give anything… risk anything… sacrifice anything, to gain our secrets. Whose single minded goal is to lay their hands on our plans and, or, equipment and use it for their own means, with no thought or care for who they may hurt along the way.
"And so today, on our fifth anniversary, I've asked you all here to help us celebrate, and to say thank you. Thank you for helping us to keep International Rescue's secrets. Thank you for keeping your eyes and ears open. Thank you for supporting us. And, most of all, thank you for keeping your faith in us, even when people have tried to abuse our good name."
"Here! Here!" Scott cheered and led a round of applause that started with those who stood on the platform in front of the crowd.
"I only wish I could show my gratitude in a more tangible manner," Jeff continued.
"Show us a Thunderbird!" someone shouted.
"Maybe… I'll consider it," Jeff said genially before returning to his notes. "Of course I must extend more words of thanks to the people who form the core of International Rescue. Firstly to a woman who has been my teacher, my guide, my support and has given me encouragement for more years than I care to admit. She also has a wonderful knack of bringing me back down to earth when I'm getting too big for my boots. A woman who's nurturing talents assisted me through one of the most traumatic, and ultimately inspirational times in my life, the death of my beloved wife, Lucille." Jeff turned slightly so he was facing the elderly lady at his side. "Mother, I don't know if I've ever told you how important you are to me, but I'm glad that you've been able to be part of this enterprise, even if at the beginning I think you had a sneaking suspicion that I'd gone off the rails." He gave her a fond kiss. "Thank you."
"Thank you, Jeff, for not being afraid to accept an old woman into your wonderful organisation."
"Next I must thank a man whose calm dignity and quiet manner is a wonderful settling influence when the world appears to be collapsing in on itself, and I'm stuck at home and my sons are away in possible danger. Kyrano, you've been a good friend to me all these years, and I thank you for your friendship. I also thank you for allowing me to encourage your wonderful daughter to exercise her full potential, and then make use of her skills. Tin-Tin, you have been like the daughter I never had and I am proud to call you and your father members of my family. You have a courage and intelligence that is valuable, both to International Rescue and the family. You grow more beautiful, as a person and a woman, every day… and I'm sure that Alan will agree with me."
Alan tried to remain staunch as he received several amused digs in the ribs from his brothers.
"Penny… I suppose I should call you by your formal title since this is the formal part of the occasion… Lady Penelope, and of course, Parker, you two are a team that breaks down the class barriers, despite having to keep up appearances for the sake of your cover. You've saved International Rescue's secrets and reputation, often at great personal risk to yourselves. Words can't express the gratitude we have to you for all you've done. Thank you, both of you."
"Thank you, Jeff," Lady Penelope replied as Parker tipped his straw hat in a salute.
"Now we're getting down to the business end of the operation. Firstly I should like to acknowledge the young man to whom, if I'm honest, International Rescue is indebted. If it hadn't been for his imagination, knowledge, inspiration, and, putting it bluntly, brains, we would literally have never got off the ground. And I can only say that I'm glad that he decided to throw his considerable intellect behind our venture and not…" Jeff lowered his voice in a dramatic manner, "go across to the dark side."
His audience laughed as Brains looked down at the stage modestly.
"Brains," Jeff continued on, "in the time I've known you, I've come to value you as a friend, and, I hope you don't mind me saying this, to regard you as a sixth son… although most parents would say that five boys would have been more than enough."
Brains turned scarlet.
"So, Brains, I would like to sincerely thank you for helping me achieve my dream, and thank you for being a valued part of my family."
"Th-Th-Thank you, Mr T-T-Tracy," Brains stuttered.
"Finally," Jeff was nearing the end of his notes. "I must thank five young men who I have had the pleasure of knowing all their lives. Five young men of whom I always have been, and will continue to be, immensely proud. Not only because they are my sons, but because they are resourceful, intelligent, brave, resilient, and tenacious. They are all individuals, and I respect their individuality, but for this speech I shall simply call them 'my sons', for I fear that if I were to praise each of them individually we would still be here this time tomorrow. Boys, I want to take this opportunity to say how much I respect you. I respect your past achievements, I respect you for the sacrifices you have made to be part of my dream, I respect the men that you've grown into… and I respect the fact that when I first floated this crazy idea of mine, not one of you laughed at me, nor tried to have me locked away in a padded cell."
"Don't say the thought didn't cross our minds," John told him.
"I did wonder," Jeff chuckled. "Where was I…? Oh, yes… These last five years, and the time before that when we were setting up this venture, have been wonderful years. How many fathers are privileged to work as closely with their offspring as I do…? Even if they do insist on trying to give me heart failure…"
"He means you, Virgil," Alan said. "You're the one who keeps crashing."
"And it's never been my fault," Virgil protested.
Jeff ignored the interruption. "I've enjoyed every minute of the time we've worked together…"
"I hope you're not going to tell us that you're thinking of retiring," Scott said.
"Please don't, he's already had one lot of bad news today," Virgil begged.
"Shush!" their grandmother scolded.
"No, I have no intention of retiring," Jeff reassured them and Scott mimed wiping sweat off his brow. "I was going to say that I've enjoyed every minute that we've worked together and that I hope we can continue on in the same manner for at least the next five years."
"Five years! Scott, you'll be…" Alan counted off his fingers. "Old!"
"Thanks, Kiddo," Scott growled.
"Alan, Gordon, Virgil, John, and Scott - I thank you all for being part of the ultimate family business." Jeff turned back to his audience. "And now, I would like you all to raise your glasses…"
"Whoa! Hold on!" Scott interrupted. "You forgot someone!"
"I did?" Jeff frowned. "Who…"
Scott stepped forward. "Allow me," he said, taking the microphone from his father. "I would like to, as Parker so ably said in his introduction, acknowledge the man who started this all. If it wasn't for him we wouldn't be here in this wonderful setting today... and five of us wouldn't be here at all..."
"Unless there's something you haven't told us," Gordon piped up, before ducking a cuff to the ear from his Grandmother.
There was a ripple of laughter through the audience.
"And as I've known him the longest out of us Tracy boys, they voted unanimously that I should be the one to give this speech." Scott reached into a pocket. "I've got some notes here." He pulled out some pieces of paper and quickly checked them over.
"Bear with him," John said. "He's not used to having this many people listen to him at once."
"Not unless they're waiting to be rescued," Alan added. "Make him feel at home by panicking will you? And perhaps set fire to some of the furniture…"
"Help!" someone dutifully yelled.
There was a creaking sound and a loud crash, followed by the distinctive sound of a siren. Virgil had utilised some of the keyboards sound effects.
"Have you finished?" Scott asked his brothers. "I don't need your help."
"Scott," Jeff protested. You didn't have to..."
"Shush," he was told. "You've had your turn."
"Now you know what we've got to put up with when we're on rescue, Dad," Alan informed his father.
Jeff decided that it would be easier to go with the flow.
"When you originally mooted the idea of International Rescue," Scott began. "I was in the Air Force, and at home on leave. "My first thought was, 'Okay, the old boy's lost it'. My second thought was, 'He can't be serious!' And my third was, 'This is my father who's talking here. He doesn't say anything unless he means it, so he must mean it, and I think he thinks he can actually make this insane idea work!' I hate to admit it, Dad, but for the first time in my life I doubted that you had the will or the resources to achieve something that you'd set your mind to.
"Then you showed me some plans that you'd got this guy, who was younger than me, to draw up – an ultra fast rocket 'plane, a humungous cargo 'plane, a rocket ship, a submarine, and even a satellite orbiting the Earth! And I asked you, 'Who do you think is going to be mad enough to pilot these things?' And you said, 'I was hoping it was going to be you and your brothers'. Remember?"
Jeff nodded. "I remember."
"Well, I don't know, Dad, but that streak of insanity that I thought you'd been infected with, must have been genetic because we all came on board. Your dream became our dream. All my life I'd wanted to be a pilot in the Air Force and then suddenly, here I was itching to get out of the Force and start a new job. The fact that I was going to be piloting the fasted 'plane on the planet probably had a lot to do with it. But it was more than that. It was the idea that I'd be able to do something worthwhile with my life, that I'd be able to help where there was no one else to help, that we could be part of something greater than international borders or treaties.
"And so, here we are five years after our first rescue, and no one thinks we're insane. Instead they see the words International Rescue and Thunderbird as a symbol of hope. I wish we could tell the world who the man behind International Rescue is, so that he could get the recognition that he deserves, but instead we decided to make do with a little presentation of our own. But the problem was… what do you get the man who has everything, and if he doesn't have it can afford to buy it himself…? Fellas…" Scott stepped back and Jeff turned to see Alan and John bring a covered easel to the stage. "To show how proud we are of you, how much we respect you, and how glad we are that we are part of your dream, we've created this!"
The cover over the easel was thrown back revealing an object the same size and shape as the portraits that hung in the lounge. "For those of you who aren't familiar with our other talents, and can't see because they are standing at the back, I'll give you a run down," Scott offered. "Around the outside of the painting we have a montage of the five Thunderbirds and the centre is a watermark of our International Rescue logo. I don't need to tell you who did the painting, do I?"
"No," Jeff smiled. "I'd know Virgil's style anywhere."
"The dedication over the watermark was written by John. He's the only one of us with calligraphic skills… In other words, he's the only one who can write legibly…"
"What does it say?" someone in the back asked.
"Do you want to read it, John?" Scott asked.
John nodded.
"'To Jefferson Tracy
A man who gave us the world,
And gave the world hope.'
And we've signed it, Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Alan and Brains."
"Brains didn't want to sign," Gordon said. "But we held his test tubes to ransom until he did."
"I'm glad you did, Son," Jeff told the scientist.
Scott continued on with his description. "Alan made the frame from the wood of one of the palm trees that we had to remove to build the complex; which explains its interesting grain…"
"It's hard to work with," Alan interrupted, "but the effect is excellent."
Scott nodded his agreement. "The paper was made by Gordon from some kind of kelp…"
"Stingray Seaweed," Gordon informed the gathering. "It's only found in this part of the world."
"And it makes a fantastic canvas for painting on," Virgil added. "It doesn't need any preparation."
"Of course, being a top secret organisation we can't leave such an object exposed for anyone not involved with International Rescue to see," Scott explained. "So Brains' contribution is to fix it so that the picture can be hidden during Operation Cover-Up. Brains, would you care to show us…"
Brains looked behind the frame and manipulated something. "I'll w-wire it into the main s-system when you d-decide where you want to hang it," he offered. Jeff nodded mutely.
A silk screen slid across the face of the picture, hiding it's potentially damaging message with a more innocuous picture of Tracy Island. "You won't be able to see from where you are, but the picture is in fact fine embroidery done by Grandma," Scott informed the group.
By now Jeff had his arm around his mother's waist and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. "It's the best you've ever done."
"Thank you, Jeff."
Scott indicated some black Malaysian script that ran down the edge of the silk. "Kyrano wrote that. Can you translate it for us, Father?"
"I hope I don't embarrass myself in front of our Malaysian friends," Jeff said. "It's International Rescue's motto, or at least part of it, 'Never give up'."
Kyrano bowed his head. "You are right, Mr Tracy."
"And Tin-Tin sewed the silk into the workings of the frame so that the whole thing slides seamlessly." Scott pointed out two Malaysian symbols at the bottom of the material. "That's Tin-Tin's signature, and that's Kyrano's…"
"The other way round, Scott," Tin-Tin told him quietly.
Scott corrected himself. "That's Kyrano's and that's Tin-Tin's."
"And what did you do, Scott?" Lady Penelope asked him.
He looked embarrassed. "Nothing. I'm not creative."
"It was Scott's idea," Alan defended his brother.
"So, this is our gift to you, Dad," Scott told his father. "And I know that I speak for my brothers and everyone else in our team that there's nothing that we'd rather being doing than standing alongside you, celebrating what we've achieved these past five years, and looking forward to a successful future together."
"Hear, hear!"
"Exactly!"
"Well said, Scott!"
When the acclamation had died down, Jeff looked at his family, eventually managing to say a choked. "Thank you." He cleared his throat. "It's a wonderful surprise. I never dreamed that you had anything like this planned."
"Well, if there's one thing we've all had plenty of practise at, it's keeping secrets," Scott reminded him.
Jeff cleared his throat again. "Is there anything else anyone wants to say?"
"I think it's all been said, Jeff," Lady Penelope told him.
"Well, in that case… will you all charge your glasses?" Jeff instructed and raised his to the night sky.
There was a whistle followed by a loud bang and a skyrocket burst into life above the villa. As the resulting fountain of red fire burned its way back down to Earth, others – blue, purple, yellow, orange, and white - blazed a trail behind it, lighting up the night sky.
Above the sounds of the explosions Jeff's voice could be heard. "Ladies and Gentlemen… I give you… International Rescue!"
Ladies and Gentlemen… I give you…
Thunderbirds!
The end.
The answers will follow next month. Until then keep emailing us your guesses to turton-tracyathotmail .com (remembering to change the at to the appropriate symbol and to remove the space before .com – I'll be so relieved to not have to write that any more. Stupid ff .net.)
In the meantime I'd like to thank all those who took the time to tackle the challenge. Receiving your answers has given us a lot of enjoyment. I'd also like to thank everyone who took the time to leave a review.Thanks, yet again, to Quiller for her help, support, and ideas.
:-)
Purupuss