FOURTEEN

"Now remember, it's really important he keeps up his breathing exercises," Elizabeth said. "And make sure he does the magnetic field therapy for at least two hours, twice a day. I know it's hard to get him to sit still but it will really help his ribs heal faster, not to mention ease the pain."

"I am in the room, you know," Alan pointed out drily.

Elizabeth grinned, glancing from Gordon to her patient. "I know, Alan. I'm sorry. I'm a doctor…we're not trained to talk to the patients."

Gordon choked on his orange juice. Elizabeth banged him on the back sympathetically.

Jeff paused beside the table. "Are you all packed?"

Elizabeth nodded, standing up. "Yes, Jeff. Thank you for being a wonderful host."

Jeff offered his hand. "It's me who should be thanking you, Elizabeth, for dropping everything like this to come here and take care of my son."

She grinned. "You deserve most of the credit. It wasn't like you were going to let me say no."

Jeff shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I suppose I'm a little one-track-minded when it comes to my sons' welfare. I do my best to keep them all out of trouble, but it's good to know you're out there for the times when it doesn't work out that way."

"Alan did the hard stuff. I had it easy, really. A week of Kyrano's cooking…you should advertise this place as a spa."

"Yeah," Gordon said, "But you still had to look at Alan's face every day."

"Oh, he's a pretty good patient, really, apart from the usual 'when-am-I-getting-out-of-this-bed" whining…"

"Again, still in the room," Alan said pointedly, raising his hand. Everyone laughed.

Elizabeth leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Be good, Al. And call me if you need me."

"I will," he grinned. "Thanks for everything."

"Come on," Jeff said, "I'll walk you down to the plane."

With Jeff carrying her suitcase and doctor's bag, they took the cliff elevator down to the runway. As they came out at the bottom, the sound of an approaching jet made Jeff pause for a moment, shading his eyes to stare up into the morning sky. "That looks like Scott," he said at last. "I wonder what he's doing home so early?"

"Too many paper cuts?" she suggested with an impish smile. "I'd better wait for him. He might need a doctor."

They walked along the path that led around the bluff to the boat jetty. "You know, you pack light, for a woman," Jeff remarked, swinging the case to demonstrate how light it was. "What've you got in here, a toothbrush?"

"You live on a tropical island, Jeff," she grinned. "What am I going to need?"

Jeff waved her ahead of him up the jetty steps, pausing for a moment as an incongruous thought struck him. How nice it would be if one of his sons should one day marry a woman he liked and respected as much as he did Elizabeth.

But that was out of the question, he reminded himself, at least for the foreseeable future. International Rescue was a secret organization, and had to remain that way to stay effective. No outsiders, under any circumstances, could or should know about what really went on here. It was just too dangerous. It only took one slip of the tongue, to the wrong person in the wrong place, and the whole house of cards could come tumbling down.

As they neared the seaplane, a movement caught their eyes. Virgil was standing on the near pontoon, leaning into the engine through the open access panel. He saw them coming and straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag hooked into his belt. He closed the panel and jumped back to the jetty.

"I, uh, ran your preflight," he said before either Elizabeth or Jeff could speak. "Everything checks out. You've got a full load of fuel and you're good to go."

"Thank you, Virgil," Elizabeth said softly.

Virgil avoided her eyes, not daring to look directly at her. He reached out and took her case from Jeff. "I've got it, dad."

Jeff nodded. He turned to Elizabeth. "Have a safe flight. Call us when you get home so we know you're okay."

He was surprised but undeniably pleased when she impulsively reached out and hugged him. "Thank you, Jeff. I will."

Assuring his father that he would be up in a moment, Virgil watched him go back down the jetty and disappear back around the bluff. Then he turned to the woman beside him. "Liz…"

"Goodbye, Virgil," she said, reaching for her case.

He stopped her, his hand on her arm. "You can't leave like this. Please."

The desperate crack in his voice made her pause. She felt her chest tighten suddenly with the need to reach out and take him into her arms, hating to see him in pain like this. But she was in pain too, she reminded herself, and she couldn't give in now. If they were to have any kind of chance, she had to stand her ground. "Virgil, nothing's changed. I'm not going to hide from your family any more. Especially when you won't even tell me why you need me to."

"Why can't you just trust me?" he burst out - realizing as soon as he had said it how lame the words sounded.

She looked at him, seeing the exhaustion and misery etched clearly on his face. Her eyes were bright with tears. "I do trust you. You're the one who won't trust me. What can be so bad that you think I don't love you enough to get past it?"

"It's not like that," he said in a low voice.

"Then what is it like?" she asked. "Help me, Virgil. Help me to understand."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked away, staring out across the water. "I can't."

She brushed a tear from her cheek, squaring her shoulders determinedly. "Then I can't either."

"I know," he said, very quietly.

High above them, Scott banked the Tracy jet on to base leg of his approach run.

It had been a long, lonely flight home.

Deep down, he realized now, he had seen this moment coming – known, maybe even from the first time he saw Tally, that it would turn out like this. The logical, rational part of his brain had tried so hard, every step of the way, to talk him out of seeing her again, but in the end the need to be with her had been so strong that it had overridden everything else.

And now, after the most incredible night of his life, he'd screwed everything up completely, compounding all his other errors by panicking and sneaking out like a complete heel in the middle of the night, without even saying goodbye.

It didn't help to remind himself that if he'd stayed to say goodbye, he would have stayed, period. And then all hell would have broken loose.

He'd gone straight from her apartment to the Tracy penthouse, but once there he found he couldn't do anything but pace like a caged tiger, unable to deal with what he had done and unable to think of any way to put it right. Two hours of that and he couldn't take it anymore. He'd gone down to his father's office and attacked the pile of reports left on the desk from yesterday.

There was no hiding the look on Rosemary's face when she arrived an hour later to find him there, unshaven and in rumpled clothes, concentrating almost feverishly on a double blind study on potential alloys for aircraft engine casings. He brushed aside her questions, suspecting that he wasn't fooling her, and managed to stay there for another two hours, until the torment got too great and he didn't trust himself to keep away from the telephone anymore. He had to get away from there, put some physical distance between himself and Tally before his resolve crumbled and he gave in to what he so fiercely, desperately wanted. He made a lame excuse about not feeling well and went straight upstairs to pack.

Even after he reached Tracy Aerospace and was rolling the sleek company jet out of the hangar toward the runway, his mind was still going round and round like an animal caught in a trap, trying to think of some way that he could go back and make it work. But there was no way, and he knew it. It was better for Tally that she think him a complete bastard and hate his guts, even though he could hardly stand the thought. He knew that anything else would simply make it worse for both of them.

Although frankly, he didn't know how anything could feel worse than this. The sense of loss was more devastating than he could ever have imagined - he felt as if a huge part of him had been torn bleeding from his chest, leaving a gaping hole behind. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to explain why he had done what he did. Why he had left without a word.

He wanted to go back and take her in his arms and never, ever let her go.

But he couldn't, and with every additional mile he put between himself and New York, he died inside a little bit more.

"Tracy Island from Tracy Two, permission to land, over." The sight of his beautiful island home, set like a priceless emerald in the blue, blue waters of the South Pacific, was usually a sight that both lifted his spirits and calmed his nerves. Today, it wasn't helping.

"Scott?" Jeff's voice came over the comlink. "I thought that looked like you on approach. What happened, son? We weren't expecting you until tomorrow night."

"Yeah, well, you know…sometimes things don't take as long as you think." Scott winced a little at how lame the explanation sounded, but his father didn't comment.

"Okay, son, you can fill us in when you're down." Jeff switched to air traffic controller mode. "Area is free of traffic, Tracy Two. You're clear to land."

"F.A.B." Scott turned smoothly on to final approach, eyes sweeping the gauges, checking height, airspeed and rate of descent with the automatic ease of long practice. He slid the powerful jet into her landing groove, coming in low over the runway, chopping back on the power, bringing the nose up. The jet flared right on target, three-pointing perfectly, her wheels touching down on the tarmac with almost no jar at all. Any other time Scott might have given himself mental points for the landing…but today he almost didn't notice it. He taxied to the hangar, waiting while the inset door rumbled up into the cliff face. He parked the jet and ran quickly through the post-flight checks, leaving the diagnostic program running as he descended the steps to the hangar floor. He waved to Brains, working on one of the recovery vehicles across the other side. Then he headed for the elevator.

Dumping his bags in his suite, he headed for the lounge. He was greeted by a welcome sight – Alan was sitting with Gordon on one of the couches. Scott broke into a smile. "Al! It's about time you hauled your lazy ass out of bed."

Alan flicked a mock-sour glance at Gordon. "Didn't I tell you he'd say something like that? Let's break four of his ribs and see how he handles it."

Scott grinned. "How're you doing?"

"Much better. I'm off the morphine and Elizabeth says I'll be ready to go back on duty in no time."

"Whoa," Gordon interrupted. "Slow down a bit there. It's going to be at least another three weeks, Al."

"I know, I know," Alan groused. "I'm gonna go crazy sitting around with nothing to do but stare at you people."

"Oh, we'll find plenty for you to do," Scott promised. "And you'll be back to washing the Mole in no time."

"I had to open my big mouth." Alan shook his head.

"Like I'm always telling you…" Gordon ducked a swipe of Alan's nearest arm. "How was New York?" he asked his eldest brother. "You're back early…"

"Yeah, Scott - Rosie give you time off for good behavior?"

Scott turned away to hide the sudden burning in his eyes, grateful for the camouflage of the sunglasses he still wore. "Oh, you know. A guy can only take so much."

"Ain't that the truth," Alan said fervently. "There aren't many things I won't do for dad, but sit in that office at Tracy Corp...?" he broke off with a mock shudder. "I still have writers cramp from the last six hundred and forty seven documents I had to sign there."

Gordon grinned. "Oh, but the ladies, Al, the ladies. They're worth making the trip for, all on their own. There's something about New York women…"

Scott swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He needed to get out of there. "Ah…have you seen Virg? I need to talk to him about something."

Jeff came around the corner from his office. "Virgil's down at the jetty seeing Elizabeth off," he told him. "I just left them down there."

"Thanks." Scott headed back for the elevator. He didn't see Gordon glance after him, his expression thoughtful.

He waited until Jeff disappeared into the kitchen. "Does he seem all right to you, Al?"

"Who, Scott? I guess so," Alan said. "Why?"

Gordon shook his head. "I don't know… Something wasn't quite…" he trailed off, unable to put his finger on what he had felt.

Alan shrugged. "Probably just jet lag. It's a long flight, and knowing Scott he probably burned the candle at both ends while he was there."

Gordon grinned. "Yeah. Lucky dog. You know, I think I'll see if I can cut in line and go next. I could use a few days of bright lights, big city."

"Yeah, well, if you're gonna go, take Virgil with you, would you? I think he needs a vacation. He's going to drive us all crazy if he doesn't calm down soon."

Scott was glad he didn't hear the seaplane's engine yet as he came out of the elevator at the bottom of the cliff, because that meant he was still in time to catch Elizabeth and say his own farewells. He wanted to thank her personally for taking such good care of his youngest brother.

As he cleared the bluff, he saw Virgil and Elizabeth standing near the far end of the jetty. Beside them, her seaplane bobbed up and down gently on the incoming tide. Scott was about to hail them when something he saw stopped him dead.

Elizabeth raised a hand and touched Virgil's face in a gesture that was unmistakably loving. Then she reached up and kissed him on the mouth.

Oh, boy. Scott stepped back into the shadows, watching as she moved back from his brother. Virgil's head was hanging slightly, the pose reminding Scott of the way he had looked as a child when he was being reprimanded for something and felt ashamed of himself. Scott's mind raced as he watched Elizabeth step gracefully on to the seaplane's pontoon and climb into the cockpit. Suddenly everything was clear.

Oh, Virg, he thought, we're a pair, all right. What on earth are we going to do?

The sound of the seaplane's engine kicking in brought him back to the present. Scott ducked back quickly toward the elevator.

Any doubt he might have had about his assessment of the situation evaporated as Virgil came around the bluff a few minutes later, wiping his eyes. Scott's heart lurched at how tired and utterly miserable he looked.

"So that's why you pushed me in the pool."

Virgil jumped, taken totally unawares by Scott's unexpected appearance. He stared at his brother for a moment, considering his options. But the expression in Scott's eyes was unmistakable. He knew - and to Virgil's mild surprise the relief he felt was total.

"Does she know?"

"No, of course not," Virgil said immediately. "I wouldn't tell her anything, you know that, any more than you would."

"I know, Virg. I know."

Virgil sat down heavily on a large rock near the elevator. Scott said, "How long?"

"Almost a year. Ever since we first met."

Scott shook his head. "Damn, you're good," he said with a slight smile of admiration. "I had no idea. I mean, I knew there was something up with you, but…"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Virgil said bleakly. "It's over."

"Over?" Scott was surprised. "Virg, it didn't look that way from where I was standing."

Virgil shook his head slowly, miserably. "She wants me to tell the family. I've been using every excuse in the book for the last year, trying to keep her away from them. But she isn't buying it anymore. She wants to go public, and I can't tell her why I can't let her do that."

Scott nodded his understanding. "So she's given you an ultimatum."

"Yeah. Either I tell the family or it's over."

"Aw, Virg." Scott sat down beside him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder sympathetically.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Scott," Virgil said in a low, unhappy voice. "I love her. I can't just let her go like this. But I can't tell dad, either…you know how he'll react."

"Yeah," Scott said. "I know the drill. 'International Rescue must remain a secret organization. No outsiders, under any circumstances.'"

There was such uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice that Virgil glanced up at him questioningly. But before he could open his mouth to ask the question, both their watches began beeping for attention. They both knew what that particular signal meant.

"That's us," Scott said. "Let's go."

When they reached the lounge, they found Jeff already at the desk waiting for them, with Gordon, Alan and Brains in attendance…as well as someone Scott hadn't expected to see. "John?" he said, confused.

"With Alan down and you in New York, we were short-handed," Jeff explained. "I decided to call John down from Thunderbird Five."

"Good move," Scott agreed. "But who's minding the store? Who else is qualified to…?"

The sound of a throat clearing for emphasis made him glance toward the monitors on the wall, and he saw the answer to his question. In place of John's picture was Tin-Tin's image. "Oh, hi, Tin-Tin," Scott said lamely.

"Hello, Scott," she said, in a tone that made it clear he'd have to figure out a way to apologize later.

"I'm sorry, Tin-Tin," Scott began, kicking himself silently for having forgotten her. He knew she was qualified…hell, she could pilot all the Thunderbirds if she had to. She had just completely slipped his mind.

"Oh, boy," Alan said quietly to Gordon. "He's gonna pay for that one."

Jeff suppressed his chuckle at his eldest son's discomfort. There was work to be done. "We don't have time for this now," he interrupted. "There isn't a moment to spare. Scott, I'm glad you're back for this one."

"Why, Dad?" Scott frowned.

"We're needed in Japan. There's been an explosion on the Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge."

Scott was airborne in minutes, the import of his father's words slowly sinking in as he watched the images fed to him via satellite of the disaster he was heading for at ten times the speed of sound. It was all hands on deck for this one - flying with Virgil, John and Gordon in Thunderbird Two, Brains filled them all in on the basics as they raced toward the danger zone. The Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge, completed in 1998 to link Kobe with Awashij Island, had been for many years the world's longest suspension bridge. Originally built to handle highway traffic only, it had undergone new construction in 2010 to add a monorail system. At 7:00 a.m. that morning, in the middle of the peak rush hour traffic period, panicked motorists had flooded the local police switchboard with reports of a massive explosion in the region of the southernmost tower, one of the two that supported the central span of the massive 12,828 foot bridge. Police helijets arrived on the scene within minutes, and were greeted by the sight that their cameras now fed live to Scott's monitors. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Half of the south tower was gone, the westernmost of the two long cables that held up the central section of the bridge sagging from what was left of its supports. A large chunk of the southern end of the central section of roadway was completely gone, crumbled into the fast-moving current below, leaving only a strip less than a lane wide to connect the bridge together. God knew how many vehicles had already fallen into the straits. But Scott was already catching his breath at an even worse sight. The first five carriages of the southbound monorail train were literally hanging, head down, over the water, still attached to the wreckage of their overhead guide system. "Jesus," he whispered. "Virgil, are you looking at this?"

"Yep." Virgil's voice was taut. As an engineer, he understood only too well what they were dealing with here. "Tin-Tin, keep a close watch on the wind speed in the straits. It can get rough for air traffic in there."

"F.A.B., Virgil," Tin-Tin answered immediately. "WWB says wind speed is at 28 knots, current in the straits is at four point five knots. And you should know that they just issued a severe tropical storm warning for the area."

More good news. "How long before the storm hits?" Scott asked.

"Four hours, maybe five if we're lucky."

"Forget the, ah, storm," Brains said. "The bridge could begin to exhibit flutter long before that, with its structure so badly, ah, damaged."

"What do you mean, flutter?"

Virgil broke in grimly. "Remember that film Brains showed us once of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge collapse back in the States?"

"Oh, God." Scott remembered it only too well. Due to a fault in design, the wind had caused the roadway of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge to twist and ripple in movements that seemed impossible for a supposedly solid structure, eventually tearing itself apart. He remembered how he had stared in disbelief, his logical brain refusing to believe the photographic evidence in front of his eyes. "Brains, tell me that's not going to happen here."

"Ah, well, Scott, you see, the increase in span length of, ah, long span bridges over the years has resulted in a remarkable, ah, decrease in their natural frequencies and the ra-atio between the fundamental torsional and vertical mode frequencies."

"How's that again…?"

"What I mean is, long span bridges can experience, ah, vortex-induced vibration, turbulence-induced buffeting and, ah, motion-induced flutter instability. Long suspension bridges are especially vulnerable to wind vibration, and the support, uh, towers are 928 feet high. When the bridge was built, the e-engineers installed damping devices to counteract deflective and ah, torsional vibration. But the southernmost tower is incapacitated thanks to the e-explosion, and the support cable on the western side is now useless."

Scott counted to ten under his breath. He hadn't slept for at least the last thirty-six hours, and it was beginning to make him irritable. "Please, Brains…just give me a yes or a no."

"All I can, uh, give you is a maybe, Scott," Brains said. "But I can tell you that the, ah, Tacoma Narrows bridge collapsed in only winds of only forty two miles per hour."

"What's the bridge designed to take, Brains? one-eighty?" Virgil asked.

"Affirmative, Virgil," Brains confirmed. "But please remember, that figure is for an, uh, intact bridge structure."

"Tin-Tin," Virgil said, "Lock on to the bridge's GPS monitoring system. Keep an eye on the readings. If that bridge starts moving I want to know about it."

"F.A.B.," Tin-Tin came back. "Scott, the locals are in a bit of a panic down there."

"No kidding," Scott said tightly, looking at the helijet feed. "What are they doing about those car fires?"

A moment, then: "Kobe fire department helis are arriving on the scene. There are fifteen vehicles on fire as far as they can tell."

"What does that mean? They can't count?"

"There's a big panic pile-up just short of the halfway mark. See that big column of smoke? They can't even tell how many vehicles are involved. People on the north side started turning around and trying to get out of the way when they saw the roadway give way - they just all crashed into each other."

Scott's mind was racing. He knew only too well what mass panic could do to make a bad situation infinitely worse. "Any estimate on casualties yet?"

"Not yet. Coast Guard estimates between forty and fifty vehicles fell when the roadway collapsed near the South Tower." Tin-Tin paused for a moment. "Scott, there are…people…on fire down there."

Don't think about that now. "Virg, what's your ETA?" Scott asked, although he knew most of the people in immediate danger were as good as dead already. "We've got to get Thunderbird Four into the water as soon as we possibly can."

"Eighty point five minutes," Virgil came back. "And I know…hurry it up."

Something approaching a smile flashed for a moment across Scott's face. "Tin-Tin, figure out who the local honcho is and tell him I'll be there in twenty five."

"F.A.B., Thunderbird One."

Scott signed off. He just hoped the monorail would hold until they got there.

"Tally," Joss's voice broke through her reverie. "Heads up."

She looked over at him, seeing that he was indicating the big televid screen above the bar. The legend AKASHI-KAIKYO BRIDGE DISASTER was emblazoned across the bottom of the screen as the WNN news anchor filled the audience in on the situation happening out there in Japan at that very moment. Then she saw why Joss had signaled for her attention. Underneath in smaller type had appeared the words INTERNATIONAL RESCUE ARRIVES ON SCENE.

Tally got up and went to the bar. "Brad, turn that up, would you?" she asked the bartender.

"Sure." The handsome young man in the green Molly's Bar apron increased the volume. Tally leaned forward, listening as the anchor reported that Thunderbird One had just been sighted overflying the crippled bridge. There wasn't any video, of course.

Just hearing Scott's ship mentioned sent a little jolt of electricity right through her body. She smiled secretly to herself with lips that still felt bruised and tender from the most amazing, unbelievable night she had ever experienced. She had been useless all day, unable to think about anything but how his mouth had tasted on hers as his arms held her close, the hot, musky scent of his powerful body, how he had felt around and above and inside her. God, he had been incredible. She'd had her share of boyfriends, even a long term live-in relationship, so she was certainly no shy, retiring virgin. But she had never known it could be like…that. She'd never lost all control before, to the point where everything blurred together and the world went away and she didn't know where she ended and he began. She wasn't even sure of exactly what she had said and done during parts of it…but she could definitely remember enough for the memory to bring a solid flush to her cheeks.

And she suddenly realized why all those people she had previously shaken her head at, the ones who had abandoned all, thrown away lives and careers and security for the sake of love, had done what they did. If they had found something even remotely like what she had experienced last night with Scott, then she understood perfectly. In their place, she would have done the same thing.

Her happy golden glow was only slightly marred by the fact that she had woken up alone. There was no trace of Scott in the apartment, and he hadn't left a note. Still, she rationalized, he was in the emergency rescue business, and a call could have come in for him, leaving him no choice but to leave right away. He probably hadn't wanted to wake her. And as for not leaving a note, her reporter's mind understood that perfectly. This organization was famous for their thoroughness in leaving no trail that could lead to them being found and identified, and leaving your handwriting and possibly fingerprints all over a piece of paper in the apartment of a woman you barely knew would hardly go along with that philosophy.

As she watched the news report, alert for any more information about International Rescue's involvement in the bridge disaster, she unhooked her cell phone from her belt and dialed her answering machine. Her heartbeat quickened as she heard the machine report that it had three messages for her…then sank again slightly when none of them were from him.

She glanced at her watch. Six-forty-five. It had only been one day, after all. Less than that, really, considering that they hadn't arrived at her apartment until three that morning.

He'll call, she thought. I know he will.

The morning sun flashed blindingly off Thunderbird One's silver fuselage as she roared over the top of the Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge, passing close enough for the people below to feel the heat of her jets. Stranded commuters shrieked and pointed as the rocket plane wheeled gracefully in the air and looped over, streaking back past underneath the roadway between the bridge's powerful supports. "Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One. I've arrived at the bridge."

"Roger that, Thunderbird One. What's the situation?"

Thunderbird One swooped back up above the roadway level for another fly-by. Scott stared down at the carnage, which looked much worse up close and in person than it had on the vid feed. Fires were everywhere, columns of black smoke boiling up into the sky, blown into choking clouds by the strong winds swirling around the structure. "It's bad, Virg. Half the cars in the middle are on fire. Visibility is pretty bad with these winds blowing all the smoke about. And there are hundreds of people all over the place down there…why isn't anyone getting them off the bridge, dammit?"

He banked the ship for a better view, swinging as close to the hanging monorail cars as he dared. He could see the terrified people inside them, their hands and faces pressed to the glass, watching him as the ship rocketed by. "The monorail's in bad shape. The overhead support looks like confetti. We'd better start working on getting those people down out of there. It looks like it could give way at any moment."

"We're still forty five minutes out, Scott. We've got a good tailwind so we might be able to cut that down a little, but…"

"I know, Virg… Do your best." Scott swept back over the bridge, frowning down at the chaos. "Tin-Tin, what's going on down there?"

Tin-Tin's voice sounded exasperated. "The police, the coast guard and the fire department are all arguing over who should be in charge. I'm getting the distinct impression that none of them want to be the first to land on the bridge, either. They're trying to figure out a way to verify that it's safe."

"Give me a break." Scott shook his head, staring at the knot of helijets buzzing over the bridge. "What's the word from the GPS monitor?"

"No appreciable movement of the bridge structure," Tin-Tin said.

Scott was thinking furiously. "Brains?"

"During, ah, construction, the bridge survived a-an earthquake of magnitude 8.5 on the Richter scale occurring at a distance of less than one hundred miles. There was no, ah, appreciable structural damage, Scott."

Scott smiled. Brains had read his mind, and in his own way was giving him the go-ahead. "Tin-Tin, inform those bozos in the helijets that they don't need to worry any more about who's in command, because International Rescue is taking over. And while you're about it, tell 'em I'm about to land on the bridge."

"Scott," Virgil said immediately, worry edging his voice. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Well, I wouldn't recommend it for something the size of your hunk of junk, Virg…but my bird's a lot smaller and lighter, and somebody's gotta get down there now and start those people moving toward the exits in a nice, orderly fashion. By the looks of it, I'm the only one who seems to have his act together right now."

He could almost feel his brother consider telling him not to do it, then bite back his response, knowing full well it would do no good. "Okay," Virgil said at last. "But watch yourself. That bridge starts moving…"

"Virg, that bridge so much as twitches and I'm out of there like a cat with a burned tail." Scott was already searching for a landing spot. It wasn't going to be easy.

He extended the wings and flew low and slow across the center section of the roadway. Wouldn't be a good idea to toast any more cars… Finally he spotted an area about seventy feet in from the undamaged north tower that looked big enough to set her down. He checked the wind and swung her around, coming in nice and steady, firing the landing jet early to give people plenty of warning that he was about to burn them to a crisp if they didn't get out of his way. Fifty feet up he hit the loudspeaker switch. "This is International Rescue. Please stand clear."

He switched frequencies. "Johnny, what's that in Japanese?"

He listened to the rapid fire of John's fluent Japanese. He hit the loudspeaker switch, opened his mouth to repeat what John had said…and let the switch go again. "Uh, Johnny…"

He heard John's chuckle. "Patch me through, Scott."

Scott grinned. It was a family joke that he truly sucked at languages, try as he might. He flipped the connector. "Go ahead."

John's voice came booming out of the loudspeakers, repeating Scott's instructions in fluent Japanese. Scott stared down at the bridge. A couple more repetitions, and it began to have the desired effect. People began to back away from the silver Thunderbird as she flared for landing, lowering to the tarmac on a roaring column of fire. Her struts touched the roadway and Scott was out of his seat, lowering the ladder. He jammed headphones in place and grabbed the portable remote…no time to unload Mobile Control, he would have to wing this one with the help of Tin-Tin in Thunderbird Five.

Once on the ground underneath the ship, he gazed at the chaos around him. The stench was so awful it made his eyes water - scorched rubber and plastic overlaid with another smell he knew only too well, burned flesh. He thought about breaking out a gas mask, but one look at the gathering crowd of terrified people made him change his mind. They were staring at him as if he was Moses come to save them from the Egyptian army, and they didn't have gas masks to escape the choking clouds of smoke.

"Scott, windspeed is up to thirty-two knots," Tin-Tin's voice sounded in his ear above the screaming and crying and the buffeting of the wind. Scott glanced up at the ruined south tower. He could feel the bridge vibrating under his feet, but so far that was the least of his worries. He had to get these people off the bridge.

He flipped on the loudspeaker with the remote. "This is International Rescue. I'm here to help you. If you are able to walk, please proceed in a calm and orderly fashion toward the north end of the bridge. If you are injured and you cannot walk, please stay where you are, and we will help you. It is very important that you stay calm and follow my instructions."

He looked around him as John's voice repeated the instructions in Japanese. Slowly the words penetrated the fear and confusion on the sea of frightened faces, and they began to move in the direction he indicated. One woman who passed grabbed hold of him, weeping uncontrollably. Scott gently disentangled her, speaking reassuringly to her although he didn't know if she could understand him. One of the men stepped forward to take her, and supported her as they moved toward the north end of the bridge.

Satisfied that those who were able to had started moving, Scott gave a last glance back up at the hanging monorail cars, swaying ever so slightly in the wind. Saying a silent prayer that the superstructure would hold, he headed back to Thunderbird One for the first aid supplies and his hoverjet.

For once, her landing wasn't even close to perfect, but Elizabeth barely noticed the rougher than usual jolt as the seaplane's skids made contact with the water, kicking up a shower of salt spray. She was surprised that she could land at all, considering the fact that her eyes were aching, her vision blurry from crying almost all the way home from Tracy Island.

The dam had burst almost as soon as she had taken off. It had hurt like living hell to leave Virgil standing there on that jetty. She had been determined not to let him see her cry, but as she had circled the seaplane into the wind for her course home she had seen him down there, looking lost and very alone, watching her leave as if she was the only other person on earth and she was abandoning him. That had been enough to start the tears flowing, and she had been startled at the near-hysteria that had bubbled up from inside her the minute a crack opened up in the concrete of her surface resolve. If she'd ever had any doubt that she was in love with him, her reaction then would have swept it away.

Elizabeth came from a strong, loving family, like Virgil did, although she was an only child. She had been raised to feel secure within herself, told that she could accomplish anything she wanted if she tried hard enough. She'd built her first practice from the ground up and then bought this one from a retiring doctor, thrilled to be able to combine the two things she loved, flying and medicine. She'd stood on her own two feet all her life and only taken on relationships with equals, and she wasn't accustomed to needing anyone, especially not a man. But she needed Virgil, needed him right down inside the core of her, and she knew that if he didn't come after her, if he didn't make this right, she wouldn't get over him easily or quickly.

She had to stand her ground, or there was no hope for their future. But she was taking a very big risk here and she knew it – betting all the marbles that he loved her enough to come clean about whatever this was that he felt he couldn't tell her.

She shook her head to clear it as she pulled the seaplane up beside the jetty. She couldn't think about this now. Her clinic was waiting, the small blue and white building comforting in its solid familiarity, and she had to get in there and get organized. She needed to get a report from her sub about what had happened with her patients in her absence, then sit down and look over her schedule. She needed to…

She needed Virgil. Elizabeth took a deep, shuddering breath, lowering her head to her arms for one more moment. Then she got a hold of herself and turned off the engine.

As she walked into the clinic, her receptionist looked up with a welcoming smile. "Hi, Dr. Grant. Welcome back."

"Thanks, Sarah. What's going on?"

"Dr. Wilson went to Moe's to get a sandwich," Sarah said. "Mrs. Johnson's here for her back exam, Mr. Cunningham's coming in at two with his upper GI results…oh, and some nutter bombed the Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, turning at Sarah's indication to look at the waiting room's television screen. The WNN news anchor was talking over a sweeping fly-by vid of the chaos at the bridge. "International Rescue's there," Sarah said. "Thunderbird Two just arrived. There are cars in the water and the bridge is on fire and everything. It's very exciting."

Elizabeth smiled despite herself, shaking her head at Sarah's youth. It was all just a virtual vidgame to her. She grabbed the pile of charts, heading for her office, leaving the sound of the anchor's voice behind. She was just grateful they were too far away to be pulled in to help with casualties. She badly needed some time to pull herself together before Dr. Wilson returned from his lunch.

"Oh, boy," Gordon said, staring out of Thunderbird Two's windshield at the scene they were rapidly approaching. "What a mess."

"Virgil," Brains said, intent on the monitor screens, "see if you can, uh, fly us close to the southern tower. I want to get a-a good look at the, uh, stabilization system."

"F.A.B.," Virgil said, lowering Thunderbird Two's blunt nose toward the bridge. "Thunderbird Two to Scott. How's it going down there?"

"Pretty good, Virg," Scott's voice came back immediately, a little raw around the edges from the effect the smoke was having on his vocal chords. "Got a couple of triage areas going here and we're flying the wounded out in relays. Get Gordon in the water and then we'll talk about the monorail."

Virgil glanced around at Gordon. He nodded, heading toward the rear cockpit door.

"Okay, Scott," Virgil said into the comlink. "Gordon's on his way. We'll drop the pod and be right with you."

"F.A.B." Uniform smudged with dirt, smoke and blood, Scott wiped his burning eyes, staring up at the welcome sight of the great green Thunderbird as she banked to wheel past what was left of the bridge's south tower. Predictably, as soon as he had led the way by landing on the bridge, the local police, fire and coast guard helijets – none wanting to lose face with either International Rescue or their counterparts - had scrambled to follow suit. With the help of the Kobe paramedics, Scott had established triage, bringing in the wounded to a central area and loading them on to the helijets for transport in order of priority. As they worked, he kept making visual checks of the monorail, knowing that the people trapped on board could probably see what was going on and were wondering when – or if – someone would come to help them.

It was getting tougher and tougher to breathe as the wind rose, whipping clouds of acrid smoke across the roadway. The windspeed was up to thirty five knots, and the monorail cars were beginning to swing alarmingly. But he couldn't worry about that now. He had to focus on the next step in front of him, which was coming up with a plan to get that train down.

He crossed to the edge of the bridge, watching as Thunderbird Two dropped her wing and swooped down in a wide diving turn, Virgil heading the transport plane into the wind so that he could use his flaps to dump speed and altitude in a hurry. His fist tensed at his side as she flared, tail swinging down, knowing the precise moment that Virgil would hit the electromagnetic lock release. There was that split second when her midsection seemed to tremble, then the pod was in free fall, sailing through the air to smack down hard into the rough water of the Akashi Straits. Freed of her heavy burden, Thunderbird Two's engines boomed like thunder as she roared low over the bridge above him. Scott turned and ran to his hoverjet, firing it up and zooming between the cars to rendezvous with his brother as close as possible to the stricken monorail.

There wasn't much room to maneuver, the bridge's six-lane highway reduced to less than one lane at this point. The monorail had been passing the south tower when the bomb went off, and it was a miracle that it hadn't been completely blown away from the bridge. As it was, the first five cars were hanging drunkenly down toward the water, and he couldn't figure out how the tangled mess of metal that used to be its support structure was still holding in place. He was just glad it was.

Thunderbird Two circled the tower, slowing in midair. "Okay, Brains," Scott said. "What've you got?"

"Virgil and I have discussed the-the relative, ah, weight of the monorail, and I'm afraid Thunderbird Two's grabs will be, uh, unequal to the task. The only way is to remove the cars one at a-a time."

Scott nodded. "Okay, so we cut the train up. John and I'll use the oxyhydnite cutters. Virg, send the ladder down and I'll be right with you."

"The only problem we have, Scott, is where to put the, uh, cars once we have separated them."

Ah. Scott stared down the bridge at the closely packed mass of vehicles, some intact, some burned out hulks. There was nowhere to lower the monorail cars. He kneaded his temple with his fingers, trying to force a solution out of his tired brain. "Has Gordon checked in yet?" he asked.

"Yeah, Scott. He says the current's a bitch and visibility is almost zero, but he's checking for survivors." Virgil paused. "He said don't get your hopes up."

Scott's mouth tightened. He had known that was coming. Upwards of fifty vehicles had drawn the short straw, falling three hundred feet to hit a water surface that from that height would have felt a lot like solid concrete. And even if they'd survived that, the bottom of the Akashi Straits was another three hundred and sixty plus feet, straight down. It would be a miracle if Gordon found anyone still alive down there.

"Just tell him to do his best," he said at last, staring out at the choppy water.

"Will do. Oh, and he said you might want to get on the horn to the Vessel Traffic Advisory Center and tell them to clear the area. Don't want one of those container ships passing underneath if more of this bridge caves in."

Container ships.Scott grinned - that was it! "Virg, tell Gordo he just earned himself a fat bonus."

"Ah…huh?" Virgil was lost.

But Scott was already on with Tin-Tin in Thunderbird Five. "Tin-Tin, patch me through to the Akashi Straits Vehicle Traffic Advisory Center."

"Scott?" Virgil said. "What are we going to do?"

"We, Virg, are going to hijack us a couple of container ships."

The plan was simple, Scott explained as Virgil sent the ladder down and hoisted him up into the bowels of Thunderbird Two. He and John would be lowered in harnesses to the monorail, where they would guide the magnetic grabs to the first car to hold it in place. Then they would use the oxyhydnite torches to cut the lead car apart from the rest of the train, and then Thunderbird Two would fly it to one of the several nearby container ships whose captains had willingly offered their services to help International Rescue. Then they would return for the next car. It would be slow going, but under the circumstances, it was the best solution anyone could come up with.

Scott and John donned their protective gear and harnesses quickly, strapping on the packs that contained the oxyhydnite cutting equipment. Capable of doing the job three times faster than a laser, the gas – another invention of Brains' – had given them a few bad moments during its original outing, but had turned out to be a very valuable part of their arsenal. To this day Jeff remained suspicious of the almost euphoric good moods both Scott and Virgil had been in when they had awakened from the temporary coma the gas' first testing had put them into, and the term "you been sniffing oxyhydnite?" had quietly made its way into the International Rescue lexicon as a euphemism for a drug induced high. Of course, now that Brains had figured out the solution of heating the tanks the gas was stored in, that part of the process was no longer an issue. Although the possibility of modifying the gas' usage for recreational purposes did still occasionally come up in conversation after a few rounds of beer.

John was the first away through the open hatch, Scott operating the winch manually and watching carefully to see that his younger brother made it to his destination safely. John touched down gently on the back of the first monorail car, testing his footing and glancing upward at the twisted metal of the support structure.

"How is it, John?" Scott asked.

"Looks good, Scott. The car can take my weight okay. Come on down."

Scott hooked his harness to the winch and spoke into his headphones. "Lower away, Virgil."

"F.A.B."

The wind felt even stronger here, a hundred feet up from the roadway. Scott had a panoramic view of the bridge as he descended through the air toward the monorail car. He noticed with satisfaction that the field triage and transport system he had set in place was still operating smoothly, helijets waiting in line like the approach lane at an airport, each one landing, loading its wounded passengers and sweeping forward to make room for the next. He glanced down at the heaving water, wondering how Gordon was doing.

Then the whole world went white.