Air Terrainean Flight 432 to Sydney from Kansas City via Los Angeles had one very upset passenger on board that day – Ruth Tracy. She had only been back in the States a week, making a slow round of Tracy family visitations, when she got the phone call that her youngest grandson had been badly injured. She was on a plane to Australia in less than two hours.
Jeff, Lady Penelope and Parker were at the gate to meet her when she arrived. Grandma Tracy ignored the latter two as she came out into the concourse, heading straight for her son like a ship in full sail. "Jefferson Tracy, I want a word with you."
"Blimey," Parker muttered. "Better 'im than me."
Penelope smiled at the sight of the usually confident and self-assured Jeff Tracy suddenly adopting the body language of a teenager in trouble. "Now, mother," he began uneasily.
"How many times have I told you that if you're not careful these boys are going to get hurt!"
"Mother, I didn't…"
"Oh, you didn't, did you? And how did Alan manage to break four ribs and puncture a lung, I ask you? I guarantee he wasn't diving into the swimming pool!"
"Mother," Jeff said again, glancing around him nervously.
Grandma squared off. "Oh, here we go again. You and that wretched secret organization of yours, taking precedence over everything."
Jeff looked as if he was about to have a stroke. "For God's sake, keep your voice down!"
"Don't you tell me what to do, I'm your mother!" she snapped. "Now where is Alan?"
Helplessly, Jeff gestured ahead of him down the concourse. Grandma swept forward. "Nice to see you, Penelope…Parker," she said as she passed, as if greeting the ladies from her quilting circle.
"Gawd," Parker said, watching them go.
Penelope had to cover her mouth to prevent the laughter from exploding.
Tally sat back from the computer, rubbing tired eyes. She glanced at the time. Four p.m. – she had been working on the research for six solid hours with only a quick break for lunch, and she felt like she still hadn't learned anything at all about International Rescue.
She was beginning to understand what Graham had been trying to tell her. There were numerous vidclips and print articles about the exploits of this secret organization, but none of them contained any useful details about the craft or their crew beyond straight descriptions of how the rescues had gone down. It seemed that nobody had ever interviewed any of the operatives, either during or after a mission. And there were no photographs or videos at all.
She reached for the vidphone. After a few rings, the screen cleared and a very sleepy Joss appeared. "Hello..?"
"Joss? It's Tally."
"Tally? What time is it…?" Behind Joss, in the darkness of what was obviously his bedroom, Tally could see a naked woman sit up.
"Joss, honey, who is it?" the woman asked plaintively, leaning over. There was a brief scuffle and the screen went blank. Tally grinned as she saw the words "SOUND ONLY SELECTED" appear.
"Four o'clock in the afternoon in Sydney," she answered, "And I have a splitting headache. Why aren't there any pictures of International Rescue?"
"For God's sake, Tal…it's two in the morning…"
"You're my shooter, Joss… Who else am I going to ask?"
"Okay…okay." He gave in. "I checked the files today and saw the same thing, so I asked around. Bad news. You can't take pictures of them."
"What do you mean, you can't take pictures of them?"
"They have some kind of jamming frequency. Sonic waves, something. Nobody knows how they do it. It doesn't matter what you use – sixteen mil, beta, digibeta – everything comes out unfocused and pixilated."
She sat back in her chair, digesting this. "Even still shots?"
"Everything."
"Well, what about the operatives themselves?"
"Same thing. A friend of mine in Atlanta tried to take a picture of his kid with one of those guys once. He said the guy didn't get mad about it or anything…guess he knew the shot wouldn't turn out."
Tally rubbed her temples. "So we have to find a way to turn off whatever it is they're doing before we can even get a picture. More good news."
She could hear the woman in Joss's apartment again. "Joss, who is that?
"Hush, honey, it's business," he said. "Tal, can we talk about this when you get back?"
"Okay," she said, softening. "And Joss…thanks. I mean it. I'll be home by Thursday, and the first round at O'Malley's is on me."
"Just the first round?" He was smiling, despite himself – she could hear it in his voice.
She sat staring into space for a long moment after he hung up, thinking. Then she glanced at the clock again. It was time to go and check on Michael…and perform a little experiment at the same time.
After looking in on her brother, Tally had a brief conference with the doctors. Although they expected Michael to make a full recovery, he wasn't ready to be moved at this time – and they certainly would not hear about him making the long flight home. Trying not to remember how difficult the conversation had been, she told them that she had been in touch with her parents, both of whom would be arriving the next day from the U.S. to take over her brother's care – so she could go back to New York while she still had a job with WNN.
Then she went back out to the central nurses' station, where one of the two nurses who had been gossiping about Thunderbird Two's arrival in the cafeteria was working her shift. Tally had spent time over the last couple of days getting to know her, and the investment was paying off nicely.
"Hi, Dorie," she said. "How's it going?"
Dorie smiled. "Hi. When are your parents coming in?"
"Tomorrow," Tally said, grimacing a little.
"Tomorrow? Aren't you flying out tomorrow?"
"Two hours after they arrive," Tally nodded. "Trust me, with my mother and me, it's for the best."
"I hear that," Dorie grinned. "My mom and I fight like cats in a sack."
Tally leaned on the desk. "By the way, I saw those scorch marks in the parking lot today," she said. "You were right – that International Rescue ship really did make a mess!"
Dorie lit up at a chance to gossip, just like Tally had known she would. "Oh, you're not kidding," she said. "You should have seen it. All that smoke and flame."
Tally grinned. "Exciting, huh? Wish I'd seen it." A pause, then: "How's the guy doing?"
"Guy?"
"The one they brought in. With the broken ribs."
"Oh," Dorie smiled, handing a chart over to a passing doctor. "He's doing fine. Nice guy – really good-looking, too."
"Really?" Tally leaned forward conspiratorially.
Dorie waved her hand in dismissal. "Oh, don't waste your time…he's got a girlfriend. Very pretty, too, which figures. She's hardly left his room since she got here, except when one of the rest of his family is around."
"His family?" Tally was instantly on alert.
"Oh, yes," Dorie nodded. "He's been surrounded by them since he got here. I'd have thought that girl was his sister, except that she's Eurasian, and he's about as blond as he could get."
Tally sighed. "All the good ones are taken."
"Excuse me, young lady." Tally turned to see that a handsome woman in her seventies was standing beside her at the desk, addressing the nurse.
"Yes, Mrs. Tracy?" Tally couldn't help noticing that the normally laid back Dorie became instantly attentive at the sight of this woman.
"Has my grandson's dinner arrived yet?"
"No, Mrs. Tracy. It should be here momentarily, though."
"Well, it'd better be," Grandma Tracy muttered. "Lord knows we're paying enough for it."
Tally exchanged a smile with Dorie as the old lady walked away. "She's loaded," Dorie confided as soon as Grandma was out of earshot. "At least, her son is. Funny how some people never really get used to having money."
The nurse glanced at her watch and stood up. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, but my shift's over and I've got to get home. My boyfriend will be screaming for his dinner – and unlike the Tracys over there, I can't afford delivery service from a five-star restaurant! See you tomorrow."
Knowing when to back off, Tally swallowed her frustration. She smiled and nodded as Dorie picked up her bag and left. She still hadn't managed to get either the patient's name or his room number. Damn that old woman and her timing, she thought. So close…
There was nothing else for it. She was going to have to go exploring.
Alan Tracy was feeling pretty good. Not only was he no longer in any pain, thanks to the blissful relief of the morphine pump, but he had a continual stream of women waiting on him hand and foot. Tin-Tin left his side only when she absolutely had to, and Elizabeth Grant and two very attractive nurses never seemed to be far away. And now his Grandma had arrived and immediately begun organizing everybody. Declaring the hospital food "hog slop" and unfit for her grandson to eat, she had gone on a sampling expedition to several local restaurants until she found one she approved of enough to order delivery. Now Alan was eating almost as well as if he were back on Tracy Island.
Even his brothers had temporarily stopped picking on him. "Alan, wash the Mole…" "Alan, steam clean the engine…" and "Alan, get those oil stains off the concrete…" had been replaced with "Alan, take it easy…" and "Alan, can I get you anything..?"
All he needed was for someone to peel him a grape and his happiness would be complete.
Elizabeth had been by earlier to talk to him about rehab. "Don't get used to the morphine," she warned him. "We'll have to wean you off it soon, and those ribs are going to hurt."
He wasn't looking forward to that. But for now, he intended to make the most of things.
He was half-dozing, eyes closed, when he heard the door opening to his right. He turned drowsily toward the sound. "Tin-Tin?"
Before he could get his eyes all the way open, a flash of light blinded him. "What the hell…?"
Footsteps hurried away, and the door closed. He blinked to clear his vision, but the room was empty again.
"Alan, did you call me?" Tin-Tin entered the room from the bathroom on the other side.
She stopped when she saw the look on his face. "What is it?"
"You'd better call Dad. I think somebody just took a picture of me."
"It's always possible it was innocent, Jeff," Penelope pointed out. "The whole hospital has been talking about how Alan arrived. He's become quite a celebrity in his own right."
"'Er Ladyship's quite right, Mr. Tracy," Parker chimed in. "It could 'ave just been a souvenir 'unter."
"I know," Jeff growled across the hospital cafeteria table. "But I don't think we should take any chances."
"No, Jeff, we shouldn't. Do you want to move him?"
"I don't know… I'd have to find a way to square it with Elizabeth, somehow. She's not going to want to allow it this soon, and I can't tell her why it's so important to us."
Penelope paused as a couple passed by the table, arm in arm. "You have state of the art medical facilities on the Island," she pointed out. "As long as the doctor is nearby, it shouldn't be a problem."
Jeff frowned. "You're right, of course. And I'd feel a whole lot better if Alan was back home where we can protect him. Especially after what happened to Scott."
He stood up. "I'm going to talk to Elizabeth. Wish me luck."
Penny smiled, watching him walk away. She wasn't worried. In all the time she had been around him, she had never known Jeff Tracy fail to get anything he really wanted.
"You have got to be out of your mind!" Elizabeth Grant rounded on Jeff before he had finished his first sentence. "Alan was seriously injured. He needs to be in the hospital for at least another four days!"
"We have excellent hospital facilities on the Island," Jeff said patiently. "You know that. And with you nearby…"
"Jeff, what if something went wrong? What if he coded in the middle of the night? I wouldn't be 'nearby' enough for that."
"Do you really think that would happen?"
She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down and be professional about this. It was very hard to be truly objective about any of the Tracy family, considering her relationship with Virgil. Which his father didn't know about, she reminded herself. "No. Not really. He's strong and healthy and he's been doing extremely well. But I have to start weaning him off the morphine soon, and then he needs to start rehab. I want to begin magnetic field therapy to help his bones heal quickly, and he's going to need ice treatment for the swelling…"
"Come and stay with us for a week. Or two, if that's what it takes. I'll bring in a therapist – anything you want." Jeff would worry about the security problems later – his son's safety was his first concern at the moment.
Elizabeth stared at him. "I can't just take off…"
"Money's no object, Elizabeth," he said.
She sighed, knowing he wasn't trying to insult her integrity. "It's not about money, Jeff. I have a practice…"
"…And you have a backup who can fly your rounds for you. Hell, I'll pay him if you want me to. Just say yes."
Elizabeth wondered if anyone ever won an argument with this man. She exhaled, giving in. "Okay," she said. "But he can't fly with that lung, not yet. We'll have to take him by sea."
Jeff grinned, reminding her irresistibly of Scott. "You make the arrangements. I'll go find us a boat."
"A slow one!" Elizabeth called after him.
It wasn't until he was gone that she suddenly realized she had just agreed to spend at least a week, maybe more, on the same small island as Virgil. The most time they had ever spent together in the almost one year they had been seeing each other had been three months ago – when a weekend getaway on a secluded Malaysian island had turned into three days after they'd been stranded there by a typhoon. Virgil had taken full advantage of the excuse, and they hadn't left the suite once the entire time. Her knees still went a little weak at the memory.
Maybe this was her chance to find out the answer to one puzzling question – why he steadfastly refused to tell his family that they were a couple. He claimed that he loved her. It was time, she thought, to find out where he really stood.
It wasn't a very good picture – a little blurry from movement of the camera, and the expression would have made a driver's license photo look like a professional headshot. But the young blond man was clearly recognizable. Tally had been right. This was the International Rescue operative who had been injured in the Southern Oceans Cup rescue.
Obviously whatever prevented photographs being taken of the International Rescue craft and their crew had not been in operation in that hospital room.
Jazzed by her triumph, Tally slipped the tiny digital camera back into her overnight bag and leaned back in her seat. She checked her watch. They would be landing in New York in three more hours.
After her parents had arrived and they were visiting with Michael, Tally had taken her opportunity to slip away, escaping the inevitable argument with her mother about her work taking precedence over her life. Dorie had been on duty again at the nurse's station, and Tally just had time to do a little more sleuthing before she leaving for Sydney airport to make her flight. Since the International Rescue operative had woken up before she had been able to steal a look at his chart, she still didn't know his last name.
"Oh, he's gone," Dorie had said at her inquiry, shaking her head. "His doctor checked him out last night."
"Gone? To another hospital?"
Dorie leaned forward, lowering her voice to avoid attracting the attention of the head nurse, who was heading their way down the corridor. "Nobody knows for sure," she said. "Apparently the family wanted to take him home – wherever that is."
"You don't know? Doesn't it say on their chart?" Tally was pushing her luck here, but she was short on time. And anyway, Dorie didn't seem to mind.
Dorie shrugged. "The address is for their corporation in New York."
Time to take a big risk. "Dorie, what was his name?"
"Dorie!" The head nurse's voice came from right behind Tally. Damn, that woman moved fast. "You know it's strictly against the rules to talk about patients unless it's to members of their family. I'm surprised at you."
"I'm sorry," Dorie mumbled, going scarlet with embarrassment.
The head nurse fixed Tally with a suspicious stare. "Now unless you have a question about your brother, young lady, I suggest you leave Dorie here alone while she still has her job."
Tally raised a hand in surrender, backing off. "I'm sorry," she mouthed at Dorie in apology. Dorie shook her head, shrinking under the head nurse's withering gaze. Tally had made good her escape, only able to hope that Dorie wouldn't get in any more trouble on her account.
She had a long time to think about the situation on the flight home. So International Rescue had whisked their injured operative out from under her nose. Score one for them. She didn't know for sure if the move had been triggered by the picture she had taken the night before, but it was certainly likely – considering the lengths they normally went to, to avoid being photographed. If only he hadn't woken up as she crept into his room. But the flash was the only thing she could think of on the spur of the moment to prevent him from seeing her face long enough for her to make her escape.
It wasn't over yet, she reminded herself with a small determined smile. She was on their trail, and she intended to stay on it until she caught up to them again. No matter what it took.