Mishka stepped through the open door and paused inside the office for a moment. She frowned in thought as she took in the large room, with its bold colours, rare artefacts and expansive view out over the ocean. Her attention then focused on the crescent wooden desk and the single computer terminal there on.
She smiled and stepped further into the room.
The attack was a surprise but perhaps should not have been. Mishka cursed in anger at both her attacker and herself as she spun and received another high kick to her head. She stumbled back a few paces and then managed to regain her composure, ready for the next strike.
"Why?" Penny demanded in fury, flushed and breathless from exertion and hatred.
Mishka backed away from her, watching her warily as a smile found her way to its face. "Why what?"
"Why everything!" Penny spat in reply. "Why the lies, why the plotting, why International Rescue?"
Mishka laughed softly and shook her head. "It's a long story." She glanced at her watch. "And you really haven't got the time."
Penny lowered her fists and frowned in concern. Still poised ready to strike but needing more information and she sighed in annoyance.
Mishka nodded and retreated further from Penny, passing the end of the desk and glancing at the computer screen. "Log me in."
"No."
Mishka shrugged her shoulders. "Okay. Have it your way."
Penny's frown grew.
Mishka looked at the time once again and smiled in amusement. "Only a few minutes and it will all be over."
Penny stared at her in silence.
"Or you can log me in and I can cancel the self-destruct sequence."
"What?" Penny gasped.
Mishka chuckled softly. "It was a failsafe. In case any of you were, in fact, clever enough to override the hack. But I would prefer the craft intact." She nodded at the computer terminal. "And I am sure you would, too."
The jumble of excited chatter in the large office was starting to give Scott a headache. Or it could simply be that the force of the collision with the ground had whipped his head almost clean from his shoulders.
He adjusted his position on the sofa and sighed in relief as he again realised that the pain in his leg was gone. Quite what the Whitehouse physician had done to his torn shin, he was unsure – preferring not to look at the mangled bloody mess behind his ripped suit – but now it was thankfully numb and the damage hidden behind bandages. Scott rested back against the soft cushions of the long couch and pressed an ice pack against his forehead as he tried to tune in to the individual conversations going on around him.
It seemed about 20 different people were suggesting a thousand different possibilities and even The President was now tiring of the lack of consensus. She had been keen to have Scott's input on the whole situation but the excitable Defence Department staff had long since shouted him down. Scott was sure they would simply be happier if he himself was locked away somewhere but the President was standing her ground. In fact, she was apparently as stubborn and hotheaded as he would normally have been. Had he not just barely survived a crash-landing, of course.
But enough was enough. Scott sat upright and held his breath as the room spun around him for a second. He held up his hand to try and gain the attention of the group.
And that was when one of the President's aides came hurrying in and said there was a phone-call for her. From 'them'.
Silence engulfed the Oval Office.
"What?" The President and assorted personnel stared in disbelief at her aide.
"It's them." The young woman repeated nervously, "The hijackers. They want to speak to you."
Scott froze. He then slowly looked over at the President and saw her glance warily at him before then pressing the flashing active line and putting the caller on the speakerphone.
"This is President Mitchell."
"Ah, yes, hello there, Rosalind."
Scott's heart slammed against his chest and he closed his eyes as the familiar voice hung in the tense air around him.
"Who is this?" President Mitchell demanded firmly, noting Scott's reaction and that all colour had drained from his face.
"Who I am is not important at this time. What is important is what I have and what I am capable of doing."
"I should explain, sir." The President countered calmly, "That this government is not in the habit of negotiating with terrorists."
Laughter emanated from the phone's speakers. "Well said, my dear. But a mute point, I'm afraid. You see, in about eight minutes time, the craft hovering over the Pentagon will descend and detonate. As will the jet sat not a few hundred yards from your office."
Scott clenched his fists and turned to look out into the garden. Somewhere beyond the part-shaded windows sat his crippled, now camouflaged, craft and he had no way of knowing if she was about to erupt into flames. The thought of his family being blown apart on Thunderbird 2 was simply too much too contemplate at that moment and he blocked the notion from his mind.
President Mitchell glanced round at the concerned, if blank, faces of her staff and then looked at Scott.
"What do you want?"
"Your attention."
"You have it."
"Your undivided attention. Get rid of all those bickering children. I want to talk to you alone."
The President nodded to her staff and watched them protest as they begrudgingly evacuated the Oval Office.
"That's better."
Scott peered around the room in breathless fear, wondering where the cameras were hidden.
"That was a clever thing you did, young Master Tracy."
Scott turned his gaze to the telephone on the ornate desk and could not breathe.
"But I am afraid that all you have achieved is to force me to reschedule things somewhat."
Scott's head was spinning. He looked up into the Presidents confused expression and watched her adding it up. And suddenly he saw the end. The end of everything.
"It is a shame you all but ruined your lovely plane for no reason." The voice continued, amusement lacing the soft refined tone. "I simply needed you to get the attention of President Mitchell and the world. I meant you no harm."
"Yeah, right!" Scott scoffed, suddenly finding his voice, his anger rising quickly and pushing all caution aside. "You listen here, you crazy son-of-a-bitch. You got nothing. You hear me? My family would rather die than be used in some kind of - "
"Fine." Came a stern response. "If that is what you would prefer."
And the line clicked off, replaced after a second by the dull moan of the dialling tone.
Scott groaned and closed his eyes. Oh god, what had he done?
President Mitchell watched Scott for a long moment, trying desperately to fathom all that was happening. She stepped round her desk and walked slowly across to stand before him, allowing a moment for him to try and collect his thoughts.
Scott was aware of her waiting expectantly and opened his eyes to meet her troubled frown. "The Hood." He replied to her unspoken query.
"Right …" President Mitchell murmured, "Except he is supposed to be dead. Caught in the crossfire in Kazakhstan."
Scott nodded. "That's how it had appeared." He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm his anger and fight the sudden urge to vomit that his throbbing head was causing. "But … unless someone has a recording of his voice or …" he shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know anymore."
President Mitchell folded her arms across her chest and groaned softly. "So … we need to call in the experts on this guy and I need to get my staff back in here." She glanced outside briefly. "Assuming we have any time to think before he does anything."
Scott nodded slowly, "He wants power." He mused aloud, "It's not in his interest to drop a bargaining tool. He's too clever for that. It must be that - " And he gasped suddenly. "God, I completely forgot! Ma'am, we've got someone who can help us back at our base!"
President Mitchell's frown grew.
Scott smiled, cursing himself for forgetting the little covert operation Penny had set out on that morning. "Let me try and contact my base and speak to her."
The President sighed, "I … I don't know …"
"Please! I know your guys don't trust me and I don't blame you for being cautious but …" He shrugged another smile, "You must've worked out who we are. Believe me, you can trust us. Get me access to a satellite phone and let me try."
Alex tapped in the code Penny had given her and held her breath as the door began to slide open. She clutched her gun in her uninjured hand and poked the barrel through the increasing gap, stepping carefully beyond the safety of the hall to scope out the lounge.
"John!"
She forgot her caution and hurried forward, falling to her knees before him.
John lifted his head and smiled in relief, his face then crumpling as he sagged forward and into her embrace.
"It's okay." Alex hugged him tight against her and closed her eyes, for a moment letting everything but his nearness fade into the distance.
"Al," John began huskily, "I can't …" he groaned and pulled her closer, pressing his face into her hair. "I can't take this …"
"Oh, babe." Alex began to cry softly, "It's all my fault." She whimpered into his shoulder. "Oh god, if I hadn't snuck out and made that call and … I'm so sorry."
John leaned back from her suddenly and frowned as he looked into her flushed face. "Who did you call?"
"MI5. To check on my mum." Alex smiled through her tears. "After using it as an excuse, I then couldn't stop thinking about it and - " Her face crumpled and she was soon shaking with pitiful sobs.
"Hey …" John cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips into her forehead. "She would have found a way sooner or later …"
"I'm – I'm – so – so – sorry." Alex managed between sobbing gasps. She reached up to place her hands on his, forgetting the broken fingers and gasping in pain.
John moved back from her again and examined her hand, murmuring in dismay.
"I so – so – want to kill that fucking bitch." Alex whispered angrily, suddenly calm.
John smiled and leaned in close once more, resting his forehead against hers. "Get in line, babe."
Sounds of a struggle then filtered down from the office and they both gasped in horror as they remembered Penny. John pulled himself to his feet, straightening his back slowly and pressing a hand against his side. He held out his hand to help Alex up and his heart slammed against his chest as he saw the gun she collected from the floor.
Alex knew instantly where his worried gaze was directed and tucked the weapon out of sight. "Last resort." She offered carefully, "Promise."
"Oh … ?" John replied, almost with disappointment.
"Master Tracy?"
They both turned to see Parker heaving himself slowly upright and leaning heavily against the kitchen cupboards.
"Would you mind explaining what the bloody hell is going on?" Parker asked, touching his fingers to his bruised temple.
John moved towards him and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Eva isn't Eva, she was Mishka all along. Mishka is apparently an evil psycho who has gained control of One and Two and plans to do something hideous to them. We were planning on stopping her at all costs." He smiled thinly. "Care to join us?"
"Most definitely." Parker nodded, "As long as it involves hitting her back."
John couldn't help but laugh. It was all too surreal. Not only that it was all happening in the first place but also that they were somehow joking about it. Maybe they had all lost it. Well, at least he and his breakdown had company.
"How …?" Alex asked quietly.
John turned back to face her. "We need to disable her, restore comm.s and get them the hell back."
"Where are they?"
"Washington."
Alex nodded in thought. "Listen … I'll - " She glanced at her crippled hand and winced as she tried to flex her fingers. "I'll not be much use against her but I might be able to help in other ways."
John wandered back over to her.
"Can I get access to a separate system?"
John frowned.
"She needs to call in, yeah? She can't know I'm in the system and will prevent you from tracking her but …" She shrugged, "I think I know someone who can help."
John watched her in wary silence, familiar stirrings of doubt beginning to flutter deep in his stomach.
"FAB 1." Parker interjected, hurrying towards them. "She's not affected, right?"
John nodded slowly.
Alex took a deep breath and pulled the gun from the waist of her trousers. "Take this."
John felt the world spin suddenly a little faster and instinctively backed away from her.
"Please." Alex urged, "At least let me try. What if you can't get a message out? We need to try another channel." She held out the gun, "And you might need this."
John took the gun and felt suddenly nauseous as he held the heavy weight of so much more than a pistol in his hand. He tucked the gun into his jeans, his skin shuddering at the cold touch of the weapon.
Alex saw the questions behind his eyes and nodded slowly. "MI5. Trust me."
John regarded her sincere face and suddenly wondered how he ever could have not trusted her. He didn't understand her part in all this but he knew what she meant to him and maybe that was all that should ever have mattered. Tears stung his eyes as he watched her smile up at him with such fondness and he bit back on an unexpected sob.
"Oh, babe …" Alex stepped in close and leaned up to place a kiss on his trembling lips. She then backed away and shrugged off the heaviness of her shoulders. "Go. Go help Penny." She stepped past him and hurried across to the glass doors leading out to the pool.
John watched her leave and then turned to Parker, who seemed to have been rather endearingly trying to make himself scarce.
"Right then," Parker emerged from the kitchenette and held out the string he had found in one of the drawers, "Ain't got nothing else to tie her up with." He shrugged.
John smiled and fell into quick step beside him and across to the ramp.
Tbc …