Bad weather had forced an hour's delay to the landing of Tally's flight from Sydney, and by the time the Fireflash's wheels finally touched ground on the runway at John F. Kennedy Airport, she was supremely grateful she didn't have to join the herd at baggage claim waiting for their luggage. There was something to be said for traveling light, even if it did mean you had to hit the nearest drugstore on the way home to replace a whole pile of necessary items.
She stopped by a concession on the way down the corridor from her gate, ordering a black coffee to drink in the cab. It was going to be cold outside. As she sipped the hot liquid, she saw a group of people standing around a vidscreen above the checkout stand. Glancing up at the screen, she recognized Ned Cook, the star reporter of rival network NTBS. The reporter in her made her step closer to hear what he was saying.
"…And we bring you the latest report from the building collapse in New Jersey. Fire Chief Ron Kovacs is here with us to give us the update. Chief Kovacs, has it been confirmed that a car bomb in the parking structure under the building was the initial cause of this disaster?"
Chief Kovacs looked tired and uncomfortable, glancing over his shoulder as if desperately wanting to be back at the scene. "That's what we believe, yes."
"And there are several people still trapped in an elevator ten floors down?"
"That's correct."
Ned addressed the camera directly, lowering his voice to draw the audience in. Nice touch, Tally thought grudgingly, knowing the tricks all too well. "Minutes ago, NTBS was the first network to bring you the news that International Rescue is on the scene, and they have already rescued twelve of the trapped people, ten of whom were young children. And only just in time, because the rest of the building has now come down and the parking structure roof has caved in, raising concerns for the safety of the remaining four people. We have also heard reports that one of International Rescue's operatives may have been down in the parking structure when the roof fell. We wish him luck – his buddies are on their way back down there at this very moment."
Tally didn't wait to hear any more. She swung around and raced out of the concession, heading for the charter terminal and a helijet that would take her to New Jersey.
It seemed to take forever for the thunder of falling rubble to stop. Knocked to his back on the ground, stunned by the concussive force of the collapse, Scott threw his arms up over his facemask and braced himself for the worst.
But by some miracle, nothing hit him. When the sound finally subsided, he cautiously withdrew his arms, and realized immediately why he had been spared. There was something very big and dark six inches above his face, and he reached up and felt the rough surface of an immense concrete slab. Tracy, you are one lucky son of a bitch, he thought, realizing that if the concrete monster above him hadn't smacked down on to other pieces of rubble before it reached him, he would have been smashed to pieces.
He didn't seem to be hurt anywhere – another break. He reached out experimentally with his hands, trying to see if there was a way out from under the slab. He felt the bag of gear and gas masks beside him, and what seemed to be an open space to the right of it. Slowly, carefully, he began to slide in that direction.
A piece of rubble shifted without warning somewhere to his left, raining concrete dust down on his arm. Scott froze, holding his breath. Nothing. He slowly moved his head in that direction, checking it out. It was too dark to see anything but vague shapes. He slid his hand inside the equipment bag, feeling around until his fingers closed on the cold metal cylinder of a flashlight. Very slowly he aimed the flashlight to his left.
A cold chill crawled up his spine. The entire slab was supported on that side only by one small, crumbling, precariously balanced chunk of concrete. One false move and it would all come crashing down.
"Scott? Can you hear me? Come in, Scott!" Scott almost jumped out of his skin. Breathing hard, forcing himself to calm down, he very carefully pulled in his left arm and raised the wrist communicator to where he could speak into it. "Virgil?" he whispered.
He could hear immense relief in his brother's voice. "Scott, thank God. Are you all right?"
Scott glanced up at the concrete slab. "Uh, yes – for right now, anyway."
"What does that mean?" Virgil asked suspiciously. "And why are you whispering?"
"Did you reach the elevator yet?"
"Wait a minute, Scott…what's your location?"
"Never mind me. I'll be fine. You have to get those people out, Virg."
"You're on the way. We can pick you up…"
"No!" He almost shouted. "You can't bring the Mole anywhere near me. I'll dig myself out…you go for that elevator, that's an order. You hear me?"
"Scott," Virgil said slowly, "What the hell is going on? What do you mean, don't bring the Mole…"
Realization dawned. "You're worried about the vibration… You're trapped under something."
Scott closed his eyes. "Virgil, you're wasting time. You have to get masks to those people. Then you can come and get me. I'll be okay…" …As long as nothing else moves, he finished silently.
"You're a lousy liar, Scott. Not a chance I'm leaving you there. The whole parking structure is unstable. The rest of it could come crashing down at any moment.
"Virg…"
"No, Scott, and that's final!" Virgil had that immovable-object tone in his voice. "We're going to triangulate on your position with or without your help. Now tell me what your status is."
Scott sighed. "Okay, Virg. I'll make you a deal. You can't bring the Mole anywhere near me because there's one mother of a slab of concrete balanced about six inches from my face. The best thing for you to do is take her down on the other side of the elevator bank. Chances are the stairs around it have survived the cave-in. Gordon can get the people out of the elevator, and you can come up the stairs and get me. Better bring the hydraulic jacks."
"F.A.B.," Virgil acknowledged. "Hang in there. I'll be with you before you know it."
Scott glanced at the small piece of stone that was all that stood between him and finding out how a bug felt when it was squashed. He hoped he was right about the stairs.
"Scott was right about the stairs," Virgil said, reappearing through the stairwell door. "They're still in one piece."
Gordon glanced at him, knowing how anxious he was to go and get their brother out from under the rubble. "Help me with this, Virg…"
Virgil hesitated, torn, looking back toward the stairs. "The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can go after Scott," Gordon said. "You know what he'll do to us if we don't get these people out first."
That brought the ghost of a smile to the corners of Virgil's mouth. He nodded and crossed back to the elevator, where Gordon was inserting hydraulic expanders into the crack between the doors. The high levels of gas made it impossible to do what they normally would have done – cut through the doors using oxyhydnite or lasers.
Virgil grabbed the remote control and waited until Gordon was satisfied with the position of the expanders. When his younger brother gave him the nod, he flipped the switch.
They watched as the powerful jaws began to open, like a crocodile in reverse, pushing outward and slowly prying apart the elevator doors. Metal groaned and crumpled, but the expanders kept moving relentlessly, widening the gap until Gordon could step forward and shine a flashlight inside. "Doesn't look good," he reported. We'd better get them out of here quick."
Finally the opening had progressed enough that he could squeeze inside. Virgil came up to the doors, automatically checking the expanders for stability. He watched as Gordon crouched among the three men and one woman crumpled unconscious on the floor of the fallen elevator, checking pulses. "This one's dead," Gordon said at last, regretfully. "Fall probably killed him. The other three are alive."
Virgil fetched the stretcher as his brother did a quick triage, assessing injuries. Working with a synergy born of long experience, they swiftly stabilized the victims and carried them to the Mole. Virgil brought a body bag back for the dead man.
He paused at the rear hatch as Gordon slid the bag inside. Gordon looked up, seeing the barely contained anxiety on his brother's face. "Go on," he said. "Take the jacks and the gear. I'll be back down in no time."
Virgil hesitated. "Don't worry," Gordon reassured him. "It's a straight reverse back up the bore hole from here. Now go get Scott."
"Thanks, Gordo." Virgil grabbed the gear he needed.
"Hey, Virg…" Gordon's voice called from the forward compartment.
"Yeah?"
"Which one of these is reverse gear again?"
Virgil automatically opened his mouth to respond – then caught himself, rolling his eyes. "Get out of here."
Gordon's laugh came back. Virgil shook his head, picked up the gear and backed out of the hatch. "Clear!"
The hatch slid shut and the engines fired up as he turned and raced back toward the stairwell.
Virgil was up the six flights of stairs in seconds. Luckily, as Scott had predicted, the area around the elevators had survived pretty well intact, and the only problem he had to encounter was a couple of stuck doors that required him to kick them open. When he emerged on the fourth level, he stopped, whistling softly. The floor of the level was completely obliterated by fallen rubble. He could see the night sky through several places in the collapsed roof, which had once been four stories higher up.
He raised his wrist communicator. "Scott, can you hear me?"
Scott's voice came back almost immediately. Virgil could hear the strain in it. "Hey, Virg. Thought you forgot all about me."
"Well, we grabbed some dinner first," Virgil grinned. "You know how crabby I get when I'm hungry."
"It'll be your last meal if you don't get your ass over here right now," Scott said.
Virgil frowned, becoming abruptly serious as he heard the edge in his brother's voice. That sounded like more than just claustrophobia. "Scott…what is it…?"
"Just get over here, Virgil. Quick."
But where was here? Virgil swept the rubble with the portable thermal scanner, turning in a slow half circle until the screen jumped, shivered and cleared, then registered the shadowy green image of a prone body underneath the concrete.
"Got you on the scan, Scott," Virgil said. "Be there in a flash."
He began to make his way as swiftly as possible across the piles of rubble. It was difficult going, the concrete stacked so loosely in places that it collapsed under his weight, and he was glad of the gloves that protected his hands from being sliced up every time he slipped and almost fell. At long last he arrived at the slab that had both protected and trapped his brother.
"Scott, this is one mother of a rock," he said, mentally estimating the slab to be at least thirty feet long and two feet thick. "You got real lucky."
"Tell me something I don't know," Scott grunted. "Now, come around to my left."
Virgil checked his scanner and figured out which direction Scott was leading him in. He circled the slab and dropped to his knees, shining his flashlight as he peered down underneath. He saw immediately what Scott had seen – the small chunk of crumbling concrete that was the only thing that stood between his brother and extremely certain death. "Christ," he said, anger flaring. "You should have told me, Scott."
"Your mission was to get those people out," Scott said. "I had to make sure you did that first."
"But Scott, you could have been…"
Scott cut him short. "Virg, do you mind if we argue about this later? I kinda need you to get a jack under this hunk of rock before it crushes me to death…okay?"
Virgil swallowed, controlling his anger with an effort. "Okay," he said as he pulled out the portable hydraulic jacks. "But we're going to talk about it, I can promise you that."
The sudden, violent vibration threw him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him, tearing the jacks out of his grasp. The roar of falling rubble pounded at his ears as he lay prone beside the slab, arms over his head. He watched in horror as the small chunk of concrete the slab was balanced upon wobbled on its axis, crumbling around the edges.
The flashlight had rolled under the slab and was pointed at Scott, frozen in helplessness, braced for the blow that would end his existence. The two brothers stared at each other, so near and yet so far, unable to do anything but wait for the slab to fall.
And pray.
But it didn't fall. Slowly the noise died away to silence. "Virgil," Scott said, unable to keep the fear out of his voice any more, "Get me out of here. Please."
Virgil scrambled after the hydraulic jacks, grabbing them and shoving them into the space either side of the concrete chunk. "I've got you, Scott," he said, his own voice shaking a little. "It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you out."
He held his breath until the jacks rose into place, supporting the weight of the slab and taking the pressure off the crumbling chunk of concrete. "Gordon," he almost shouted into his wrist communicator, "Where the hell are you? I need you down here right now!"
The helijet kicked up clouds of concrete dust as it settled to earth a hundred yards from the collapsed building. Tally ducked under the rotor blades as she cleared the landing zone, swinging around to give the pilot the high sign. The jets roared back into life and the helijet lifted up again into the cold black sky.
Tally scanned the area. She spotted the WNN satellite truck, parked only yards from Ned Cook's crew from NTBS and several other competitive networks, all of them with reporters shooting standups and wraparounds while they waited for something to happen.
Avoiding the crews, Tally headed straight across the rubble-strewn ground toward the police barriers. She could see the firemen and other emergency personnel all gathered near an interesting computerized console that didn't look at all familiar. Then, some way beyond, her eyes picked out something silhouetted against the darkness that did. The huge green bulk of Thunderbird Two.
Gotcha. The old excitement stirred in her gut. Beaten down by the continual mistreatment and resistance of her bureau chief, she hadn't felt this way about a story in a long time. This time, she thought. This time's gonna be different.
The old excitement stirred in her gut. Beaten down by the continual mistreatment and resistance of her bureau chief, she hadn't felt this way about a story in a long time.Something was happening over by the immense pile of mangled concrete and steel that used to be a forty-story building. A shout went up from the firemen and they went running across toward it. Now Tally could see it – a plume of what looked like smoke rising from a large circular hole. There was an unfamiliar looking machine parked right above it, the upper part tilted down so that it pointed toward the ground. It didn't look like any fire department equipment she had ever seen. As she ran toward it she saw something start to emerge from the hole. She stopped and watched in awe as International Rescue's sixty foot long boring machine reversed smoothly up on to her waiting trolley, the lights of the emergency vehicles glinting off the rapidly spiraling metal of her drilling bit.
The Mole locked into place on the trolley and the hydraulics lowered back into the horizontal position. Seconds later the rear cabin door slid open and Tally saw a man in International Rescue blue start to help four other people out and down on to the ground. She caught a glimpse of red-gold hair... Yes! He had been the one who had helped organize the survivors of the Spirit of Nantucket when they had reached the USS Colin Powell.
Seconds later she was forced to scramble out of the way as an ambulance screamed across the parking lot toward the Mole, lights flashing. When she looked back, the International Rescue man had disappeared, and the Mole was on the move again, powering back down off her tilting trolley into the bowels of the rubble field.
Tally glanced back over towards the interesting looking computerized console. Between the bodies of the men that surrounded it she could catch the International Rescue logo and fragments of what looked like the words "MOBILE CONTROL." If there was anywhere else on this rescue site where an IR representative would be, her money would be on that console. But she couldn't safely approach it with all those men standing between her and it...and worse, she had no excuse to be this close to the danger zone unless she flashed her press credentials. And that she couldn't risk doing.
She paused a safe distance away, turning her back - she had learned in location situations in the past that people, even uniformed ones, usually didn't challenge you unless you made eye contact - rubbing her arms and wishing for another cup of that hot coffee, no matter how overbrewed the one from the airport had been. Now for the hurry up and wait that was always a part of the landscape for a field reporter.
After what the cold made seem a lot longer time than it really was, she heard the engines of the Mole again. She looked around, saw the massive machine settling back on to its trolley. Then the caterpillar tracks ground into life and the thirty ton boring machine swung its bulk around in her direction, clumps of dirt and concrete dropping off in its wake.
She had almost reached the Mobile Control console by the time the Mole reached her. Unexpectedly, instead of passing her, the vehicle came to a halt only feet away. The cabin door opened and two men climbed out, both of them in International Rescue uniforms. The first one was unfamiliar, tall and handsome, with chestnut colored hair and warm brown eyes. The second man she knew.
"Hello, Scott," she said.
Surprised to hear his name, he looked directly around at her. She was completely unprepared for her reaction. The breath jammed in her throat, her face suddenly hot and flushed. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
She'd forgotten how blue his eyes were.
The moment seemed to hang there in space, stretching into infinity, despite the alarm bells that had started ringing somewhere in the back of her mind. With a tremendous effort of will she forced time to start moving forward again, stamping hard on the unwelcome moment of weakness. Switching on what she hoped was a friendly but neutral smile, she stuck out her hand. "Tally Somerville. We were never formally introduced."
Scott was still staring at her. Virgil looked from one to the other. He waved a hand in front of his brother's face. "Scott?"
This isn't fair, Scott thought.
Several times since he had left the hospital in Sydney, he had found his thoughts drifting back to this woman. He had wondered about her…where she was from, how she was doing…who she was. He had told himself that it was much better he didn't even know her name…after all, he couldn't tell her his. And in any case, he wasn't likely to ever see her again.
But now, against all the odds, here she was standing right in front of him.
Virgil's voice snapped him out of the trance-like state her appearance had produced. He realized with a start that he was being incredibly rude, and reached automatically to shake her hand.
The electricity shot right up his arm.
She jumped visibly, dropping his hand like it had burned her. "Static," she said quickly, with a brittle laugh. "It's a killer in this cold weather, huh."
Before he could respond, she had swung left toward Virgil. Scott stood there, feeling strangely bereft.
Tally had no idea what had just happened to her. Static, she thought firmly. Her first instinct had been correct...it had to be static. The alternative...well, that kind of thing only happened in books. Her mother had drilled that into her enough times, back when when she'd still been young enough to want to believe otherwise.
It had shaken her, though...more than she wanted to admit. She turned to the second man, offering her hand in greeting in a slightly desperate attempt to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation. Shaking hands with this one was, thank God, a much less interesting experience, although he was quite a looker in his own right. "You know, if there are any more like you two back at the base, you should consider doing a calendar."
He grinned at her, clearly a little embarrassed. "Thanks…I think."
God, why do I make such stupid jokes under pressure, she thought in frustration, plunging on. "You're probably wondering who I am. You guys rescued me from a sinking yacht a few days ago. The Spirit of Nantucket. I saw the news report that you were here and I just had to come over and say a proper thank you."
Virgil glanced sideways at Scott, realizing that his usually smooth and charming brother still hadn't uttered a word. "Oh, that's really not necessary," he said. "It's all part of the job."
"Well, we're all very grateful you were there for us," she said. "I can't stop thinking about the guy who got hurt… Is he going to be okay?"
"He'll be fine," Virgil said. "A few weeks to recuperate and he'll be as good as new."
"I'm so glad," she smiled, sounding relieved. "He could have been…well, I'm glad, anyway."
Stop it, she told herself severely, you're babbling.
Virgil glanced again at Scott, taking in how he was looking at Tally. Oh, boy, he thought, when did this happen? "Well," he said, "I guess I'll go and load the Mole…okay, Scott?"
"Uh-huh."
Virgil smiled, realizing that his brother had no idea what he had just said. He nodded at Tally. "Nice to meet you."
"Thanks again," she said. "For what you did out there."
She watched him go back into the Mole's cabin. The engines started up and the boring machine trundled forward again on her caterpillar tracks toward Thunderbird Two.
Left alone with Scott, Tally took a deep breath and forced herself to look back toward him. "Wow, you International Rescue boys sure have some great equipment."
The startled look on his face made her blush right up to the roots of her hair. "Oh, God, that's not what I meant, I swear…"
To her relief, though, he grinned. "We get that a lot, Usually right after people see the Mole, for some reason."
She looked up at the twinkle in his expression, then at the retreating drilling machine with its huge spiral bit, and before she knew it they were both laughing until their sides hurt. "Thanks," Scott said at last, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I needed that."
"The news report said one of you got trapped down there," she said, sobering. "It was you, wasn't it."
She didn't know how she was so sure...but somehow, she knew she was right.
His eyebrow raised a little in surprise, but he nodded. "Virgil got me out. He doesn't always listen to me, thank God."
"That was Virgil?" she turned toward Thunderbird Two, watching as the Mole climbed the ramp into Pod 3. "I remember that name…he was the pilot out there when you rescued us."
"Yes," he said. "He's phenomenal. How he held that ship steady in those winds for all those hours is beyond me."
"You're close," she said, hearing the warmth in his voice. "I can tell. He must be a good friend."
He smiled. "You could say that."
"So what do you do…besides pulling people like me out of sinking ships and burrowing under collapsed buildings, I mean."
Scott nodded across the rubble pile. She followed his eyes and saw the sleek silver rocket plane parked on her struts on the far side. "Thunderbird One," she said, recognizing the craft she had last seen taking off from the deck of the Colin Powell. "Yours?"
"Uh-huh."
"She's beautiful," Tally said.
"Yes, she is," he agreed...but he wasn't looking at the ship.
Something in his voice made her glance back at him, and for a brief moment she caught the unguarded expression in his eyes. She tried to take a breath but her lungs had somehow decided to stop working. "Listen," she said quickly, trying to push past the sudden feeling that she was hanging by one hand over a hundred-foot cliff. "I really want to thank you properly for saving my life. My brother and I wouldn't be here today if it hadn't been for you."
"Your brother?" Scott realized that this must have been the man he had seen her with in the hospital in Sydney. He felt a little guilty that the revelation made him so happy.
"Yes…he's in Sydney. They had to operate on his head injury, but they say he'll make a full recovery."
"I'm glad," Scott said sincerely. "So…do you live around here?"
She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows at the leading question. "You mean, do I come here often?"
He grinned. "Something like that."
"I live in New York. I just got back – I was coming through JFK when I saw the newsfeed. I grabbed a helijet and came straight here."
"Why?"
She was taken aback for a moment, until she saw that the question was innocent and genuine. "Like I said…I wanted to thank you. I never saw you again after you fished Mike and me out of the water. I looked for you, but…"
She trailed off, lost in the look in his eyes. The crackle of Scott's wrist communicator made them both jump. "Scott from Thunderbird Two. Estimate takeoff in five minutes."
Tally stared at the ground, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager. "F.A.B.," Scott responded automatically, never taking his eyes off her averted face. "I'll be right behind you."
"Gordon's getting Mobile Control loaded for you," Virgil said. "We thought you'd appreciate a few more minutes to…well, you know."
Scott smiled. "Thanks, Virg. I owe you one."
"I'll put it on your tab." He could hear Virgil's grin as his brother signed off.
Scott glanced over at the waiting Thunderbird One, where he could now see Gordon supervising the loading of the mobile communications equipment. "Well," he said. "I should get going."
"Of course," Tally said quickly, "I don't want to keep you. I mean, you probably need to be off rescuing somebody else…or something… Right?
"Or something," he agreed. He was almost painfully aware of how much he didn't want to leave right now…but he couldn't think of a single reasonable excuse not to. It's better this way, he told himself, as he had done at least a dozen times since he had seen her in the hospital in Sydney. What kind of a relationship could you have with this girl, when you can't even tell her your last name?
Relationship. The choice of word came out of nowhere, startling him.
"Look," she was saying, "I want you to promise me that if you're ever in New York, you'll at least let me buy you dinner. I know this great place where the steaks are so good you'll dream about them for months afterwards…and you don't even have to wear your uniform. Deal?"
He smiled through the ache in his chest, wanting to pretend just for a moment that he was a normal guy with a normal life, who could actually take this beautiful girl out to dinner and a night on the town and see where it led them. "Deal."
But she could see in his eyes that this was goodbye. Whether he really wanted to or not, he was going to do what International Rescue did so well…disappear into the sunset without leaving a single trace behind him.
"Goodbye, Scott," she said quietly.
She knew, he realized…and her words made him feel very empty. "Goodbye, Tally." He thought about reaching for her hand…then decided against it.
She was suddenly aware again of the bitter cold as he turned and walked away. Shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets, she stood there and watched him as he crossed the rubble field toward Thunderbird One. But he never once looked back.
Over by Thunderbird One, Gordon had finished loading the equipment and was saying goodbye to the grateful Fire Chief and his crew. He turned as he heard Ned Cook's greeting. "Gordon! Long time no see!"
"Hey, Ned, good to see you. How's it going?" They had known each other since Gordon had been instrumental in rescuing the news reporter and his cameraman from certain death two years ago, when the planned move of the Empire State Building had gone terribly wrong. The Tracys and Ned Cook had gotten off to a rocky start, with Scott having to chase the reporter in Thunderbird One and forcibly erase a videotape Ned's cameraman had taken of the ship against his wishes. Then he and Gordon had saved the man's life and Ned had become their biggest supporter, even stopping other news crews from taking unauthorized pictures until Brains had invented the image jamming equipment they now used.
"Great rescue, as usual," Ned said. "Love that Mole. Must be fun to drive. What does she get…five on the freeway?"
"Two in the city," Gordon grinned. "But she corners like a dream."
Say, Gordon, can I ask you something?" Ned said. "If you guys were going to give an exclusive, you'd come to your old friend Ned first, wouldn't you?"
Gordon gave him a quizzical look. "Can't see it happening, Ned… It's that hell freezing over thing, you know… But sure, of course we would. You know that."
"Okay," Ned smiled. "Just needed to hear that."
Gordon shook his head as Ned left, smiling at the odd conversation. He turned away, never seeing Ned's hard stare across the rubble field at his elder brother. And even had he seen it, he wouldn't have realized that the newsman was wondering why he had just seen Scott having a long conversation with Tally Somerville of the World News Network.