CHAPTER SIX

"What's the situation, Alan?"

"I've been speaking with the plant engineer, Scott. They're not sure how, but the factory's main wellhead blew. Apparently the night guard went to investigate and fell down the well."

"How deep is it?"

"Eighty feet. The guard's caught about seventy feet down."

"What's the well pumping from?"

"Rush Springs reservoir. It's a big underground lake."

"Is there a way for Gordon to get through?"

"Yes. There's an underwater entrance. He can gain access through the springs at the head of Rush River, according to the plant engineer."

"Well, this should prove fairly simple, then."

"Scott..."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I won't count my chickens. Thanks a lot, Alan. Feed Virgil the coordinates for the head of the river. I'll contact Thunderbird 2."

"F.A.B. Thunderbird 5 out."

"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 2."

"Thunderbird 2 here."

"Okay, Virgil, now Alan's gotten some more information from the factory's engineer. We'll need you to drop Pod 4 at the coordinates Alan's feeding you."

"F.A.B., they're coming through now. What's the action?"

"Gordon will travel along the river in Thunderbird 4 until he reaches the underwater entrance to Rush Springs reservoir. From there he'll proceed to the well tank. He'll need to get up under the well in a dive suit. The guard's only ten feet up from the aperture. I think he can get him out without too much trouble."

"F.A.B., Scott," came Gordon's voice. "But I'd sure like to have an extra pair of hands."

"What about me?" John asked.

"Sounds good. You go with him, John. Meantime, Virgil, you meet me inside the factory. I'll have Mobile Control set up before you've even dropped Thunderbird 4."

"F.A.B. Estimated Time of Arrival now sixteen minutes. Thunderbird 2 out."

As he approached Binger, Oklahoma, Scott watched the patchwork of fields surrounding the area come into view. He smiled as it brought back memories of his family's old farm back in Kansas. Then he frowned as his neck tingled. He brought his fingers to the most offending point and scratched lightly.

The rope burns were healing, causing his skin to itch, but he was sure he looked a sight. Lady Penelope would never approve of his choice in accessories, he thought grimly, thinking how the marks left by the rope resembled a gruesome necklace. His frown deepened as these thoughts led his mind to wander inevitably to the Hood. He couldn't shake the feeling that this rescue sounded almost too easy.

"This is Thunderbird 1 of International Rescue calling Oklahoma Peanuts."

"This is Chuck Beasley, Plant Engineer. Boy, am I glad you're here. Pete's in a bad way down there."

"How so?"

"Well, he's an awfully big guy. He's stuck head upright far as we can tell. We lowered a mike down there a while back to try and make contact, but we could only hear breathing, and it's started getting pretty shallow. I think he's suffocating himself."

"Our underwater vessel should be arriving in a few minutes. Until then, I need some men out here to help me with my equipment."

"When are you arriving?"

"Right now," Scott replied, firing his retros. Thunderbird 1 came to rest gently in the parking lot. "I want someone to contact local law enforcement. Our craft must be guarded at all times."

"Right. The sheriff's right here, I'll let him know."

Five minutes later, three men approached Thunderbird 1, gaping openly at the magnificent rocket plane.

"Hi, thanks for your help," Scott greeted, shaking each of their hands in turn.

"Hey, anything we can do to help old Pete is okay by us. I'm Chuck Beasley."

"The plant engineer."

"Right. This is Mike," he said, nodding to a man about Scott's age who had dishwater blonde hair, "and Tom," he finished, nodding to the second man. Tom seemed like he was about Jeff's age, with salt-and-pepper hair and built just as sturdy.

"Okay, let's get my equipment into the plant. I want to be as close to the wellhead as possible. Will there be room?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, it's in the basement. There isn't much else down there but water storage and treatment facilities and the guts of our processing plant. There'll be room."

In no time at all, Scott and the three burly men had Mobile Control set up not fifteen feet from the wellhead. Scott inspected the opening, but even with his high-intensity flashlight, could not see the guard trapped far below. He listened to the strangled sounds of Pete's breathing on headphones Chuck gave him, then took them off and headed back to his control unit.

"This is Mobile Control calling Thunderbird 2. What's your ETA?"

"Mobile Control from Thunderbird 2. I'm just about to land. Looks like the river isn't wide enough here to drop the Pod. Will have to position it on the bank so Thunderbird 4 can launch."

"F.A.B. When you get up here to the factory, bring the lifting gear, breathing apparatus and harnesses with you. The guard's having a hard time. We might have to do some work from this end before Thunderbird 4 gets to him."

"F.A.B. I've landed. Raising Thunderbird now."

"That's some sophisticated machine you have out there," Chuck said from over his shoulder. "I sure wish I could take a look at her engines."

Scott looked up at him warily, but was soon put at ease by the engineer's friendly, relaxed demeanor. "Sorry, no can do. Our Thunderbirds are top secret."

"I know, I know," Chuck smiled. "But a guy can dream, can't he?"

"Sure, no harm in that. What blew that wellhead, anyway?" Scott asked, walking around and looking at the bits and pieces scattered over the basement floor.

"Not sure. I was thinking pressure buildup, but the well tank isn't even full. And there isn't any water up here, so it couldn't have blown out."

"What are you saying? That it blew up?"

"Best I can figure. Must have been a flaw in it or something. Never had it happen before. It's a new wellhead, though, just went on a week ago."

"Hmm. I wonder..."

Thunderbird 2 elevated herself on four hydraulic legs, leaving her Pod below like a bird laying an enormous egg. The door of the Pod, covered with a large white number 4, opened slowly, meeting the edge of the river bank. A long metal track extended from inside the Pod out into the clear water below.

"Ready for launch?" Virgil asked through the com.

"F.A.B. Launching...now," Gordon replied as he brought the small submersible to life.

"I haven't been in this thing for a couple of years," John commented as his brother maneuvered the craft down the river. "And even then, it was only for some testing."

"Well, then, sit back and watch the expert," Gordon proclaimed, flashing him a grin. "You, uh...you do still remember how to dive, don't you, John?"

John's mouth dropped open to protest, then he saw the mischievous look on Gordon's face. "Very funny."

Having recollected its Pod, Thunderbird 2 lifted off and was landing in the factory parking lot within five minutes.

"Thunderbird 2 to Mobile Control."

"Mobile Control here."

"I've just landed. Will be with you in a few minutes. Going to collect rescue gear now."

"F.A.B. And hurry, Virgil. This guy's breathing sounds worse."

"F.A.B."

In precisely five minutes, Scott watched the elevator door open. Virgil exited and headed right for him, laden with all types of equipment. Scott turned and spoke into his mike.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird 4. How's it looking down there, Gordon?"

"Okay, Scott. We've just reached the reservoir entrance. According to my readouts, we have about seven miles to go before we're below you."

"Right. Now, when you arrive, it'll probably be as simple as you pulling the guard down through the pipe into the water, but it'll take both of you. I hear he's a pretty big fella."

"Is he conscious? Will he know to hold his breath?"

"No, he's been unconscious since they found him. We'll have oxygen on him from up here by that time, so you'll just have to get him into Thunderbird."

"F.A.B. Will contact you once we've reached Danger Zone. Thunderbird 4 out."

"So, what's the action, Scott?"

"Well, Virg, one of us needs to get down there and secure a mask on him."

"Right. Shall we draw straws?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"No, that's okay," Scott replied, grinning. "I need to keep on top of Gordon. You go ahead."

"F.A.B!"

Virgil was soon inside the well pipe, his boots and hands keeping him from sliding downward. Scott attached the lead rope to four different buckles on the harness, then handed a mask and small oxygen tank to his brother.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd better go in headfirst. This pipe's only five feet wide. I doubt I can fold myself in half well enough to upend when I reach the guard."

"Right. Okay, Tom, Mike, Chuck. You wanna give us a hand?"

"Sure thing," Chuck replied. The three were instantly at his side. Scott handed them each a portion of the lead rope, while he kept the fourth.

"All right, 'round you go," he said.

Virgil hoisted himself up to the side of the pipe, swung his legs out and leaned over 'til the top half of his body was inside. "Okay!" his voice echoed. "Take me down!"

"Let's go," Scott said to the men helping him. "Inch at a time."

Slowly, ever so slowly, the men fed out their individual lines, and Virgil began his descent into the well. He felt the blood rush to his face, but ignored it, shining his flashlight directly beneath him. He lifted his chronometer to his face.

"Down about ten feet now," he said.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Major headrush."

"Can you see him yet?"

"Nope. Keep it going."

Twenty feet. Thirty feet. Forty feet.

"Scott, I see him!"

"How's he look?"

"Not too good," Virgil replied, noticing the blue tinge around the guard's eyes and lips even from this distance. "In fact, he's suffering from a severe lack of oxygen, from what I can tell. I'm gonna have to get this tank on him now instead of waiting."

"F.A.B. As soon as you reach him and secure yourself, I'll let Thunderbird 4 know."

"Right."

Ten more minutes found Virgil's head hanging mere inches above Pete's. "Stop!" Virgil said.

"You on him?"

"Yeah. Boy, Scott, he's in a bad way." Virgil reached out and touched Pete just under his ear. "He's still alive, but his pulse is faint."

"Do you see any way for us to haul him out through this end?"

"No, don't think so. His arms are wedged next to him against the wall. There isn't anywhere for me to secure him." Virgil reached out, grabbed the back of the guard's jacket, and pulled with as much strength as he could. "He's in tight, Scott. Looks like Thunderbird 4's our only hope."

"All right, let me check on their ETA. Secure yourself."

"F.A.B."

Scott handed Chuck his lead rope and headed for his station while Virgil attached four suction cups at each compass point on the well wall. The cups were attached to a belt around his waist, and would hold him in place should for any reason the people above let go the ropes. Once finished, he shone the light back on the guard's face.

"Hey, Pete, can you hear me?" he asked.

There was no reply.

"Hang in, buddy. We'll have you out of here but quick."

Virgil finally had a moment to realize what a tight fit it was inside the well pipe. He looked back down to Pete's face and said, "Sure is a good thing I'm not claustrophobic." He then set about the task of hooking Pete up to the oxygen tank. He hoped it would be good enough to keep him alive until Gordon and John arrived.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird 4."

"Right here, Scott. We were just about to call you. We've reached the intake, but it's closed. Can you get it open?"

"Chuck, can you get the intake opened up for my buddies down there?"

"Sure, but we'll have to close it right back up again. Without the wellhead to stop it, that water will rise up and flood the factory pretty quickly."

"Okay, Gordon, let me know when you and John are ready to go in. They'll open the valve for you, but once you're through they have to close it again."

"F.A.B. Setting Thunderbird down on riverbed now. Will call once we're in position."

Chuck handed one of his lead ropes to Tom, the other to Mike. They didn't really need to hold them now since Virgil was secure, but if those suction cups failed for any reason, these two men would be the only things keeping him from crashing headfirst into Pete.

John and Gordon, already wearing their wetsuits, donned their breathing equipment and left Thunderbird 4 through the topside airlock hatch.

"Keep your eyes open," John said as they neared the intake. "You never know if that creep's around here."

Gordon shivered involuntarily at the thought. "Yeah, I guess so. Ready to go?"

"Ready."

"This is Gordon calling Mobile Control."

"Receiving you."

"We're ready, Scott. Tell them to open the intake...now."

Scott turned and nodded to Chuck, who pressed a few buttons on a nearby Control Panel. "Okay, it's opening."

"Right. Gordon, tell me once you're through."

About thirty seconds later, John and Gordon had traversed the four-foot-long intake and found themselves inside the large Oklahoma Peanuts well tank.

"We're in, Scott!"

"Right, close the intake!"

Chuck immediately complied, and the valve was soon shut tight.

Gordon and John made their way to the top of the tank and found about three feet of open air between the water's surface and the top wall. Sliding their face masks aside, they shone flashlights around until Gordon finally spotted the well pipe.

"Scott, I see the pipe. We're heading over to it now."

"F.A.B."

Scott returned to the well opening and spoke into his chronometer. "Virgil, how's Pete doing?"

"Okay, I think. His color seems to be returning, but he's still unconscious."

"How about you?"

"Getting a little dizzy, but not too bad. Where are Gordon and John?"

"Coming up beneath you as we speak. You may need to help them out with a shove or two on the guard."

"F.A.B. Hey, I hear something."

"Must be them. Hang on." Scott returned to Mobile Control. "Gordon, John, Virgil thinks he can hear you. What's your position?"

"We're right under the pipe now. We can see the guard's feet--hey, what the heck was that?"

"Gordon? What is it?" Scott ask, brow furrowing.

Gordon and John frowned at one another as they heard something like a muffled explosion. Air bubbles broke the surface near where they'd entered.

"What's going on?" John asked.

"Don't know. Hey, does the water level seem to be rising to you?"

"Yeah, it--it does."

"Maybe the intake valve was opened again. Scott, did you guys open the valve?"

Scott turned to look at Chuck, who shook his head vehemently. "No, Gordon, why?"

"It sounded like there was an explosion, and the water in here seems to be rising now. We'd better get the guard out of here, and fast," Gordon replied. "If Virgil's still in that pipe, tell him to push like hell."

"An explosion? Well, what would cause that?" Scott asked of the plant's engineer.

"I don't know," Chuck replied. "We've never had a problem with the intake valve."

"Yeah, and you've never had a problem with the wellhead either. Until today."

"What are you getting at?"

"I don't know, but something just doesn't add up. Hey, Virgil!" Scott said into his chronometer.

"Yeah, Scott?"

"Start pushing. Something's happened below. Gordon and John heard some kind of explosion. It looks like the valve has blown and the water level's rising. We have to get Pete outta there."

Scott's unspoken thoughts settled onto Virgil like a huge weight. He knew instinctively what his brother was thinking.

"All right, Scott, I'm on it."

Virgil grasped Pete's shoulders firmly and began pushing as hard as he could. He could feel the guard move slightly, and figured John and Gordon must be working him from the other end. He soon latched onto their rhythm and matched it, pushing when they pulled.

"Okay, Gordon, let's each grab a leg and get this poor fella outta here," John said, reaching up the pipe.

"Right. I've got one."

"I've got the other."

"On three. 1...2...3!"

The two men yanked hard, budging the man only about an inch.

"Again!" Gordon said, and they pulled. "Again!" Pull. Get a better grip. Pull down. Hoist themselves up. Pull down. Hoist up. Pull down.

"Virgil must be pushing, I can feel him coming down," John said.

"This water's getting pretty high. We only have about a foot left. We should put on our masks soon."

"Right. But let's see if we can't get him out of...OOF!"

"John!" Gordon cried out as Pete came flying out of the pipe. He'd landed smack on top of John's head, propelling him down into the water of the tank.

"Gordon! What happened?" Scott yelled into his mike. When he received no response, he raced over to the well. "Virgil!"

"He's out, Scott, but I don't know what's going on. I can't see them."

Suddenly Gordon's face appeared right in Virgil's line of vision. In his arms was Pete the guard. "Virgil, I can't find John!" he yelled up.

"I'm coming!" Virgil yelled, releasing his suction cups.

"Virgil!" Scott yelled down the pipe.

Virgil pointed his arms in front of his body as he fell over ten feet into the cold water of the tank. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see anything at first. Then a soft glow below him caught his eye, and he swam toward it. When he reached it, he saw it was an International Rescue flashlight. Beaming it around, he saw John floating not four feet away from him. Chest growing tight with the need to breathe, Virgil grabbed his brother's arms and swam for the surface.

Gordon watched anxiously, doing his best to keep hold of Pete while he waited for his brothers to reappear. It was less than a minute before the splash of water and the sound of someone gasping for air and coughing at the other end of the tank caught his attention.

"John?"

"I got him, Gordo," Virgil replied, panting. "But he's unconscious."

Gordon looked up into the pipe. "Scott! We need a mask!"

Scott almost didn't hear him, so faint was his voice, but he ran and grabbed an O2 tank and mask and held them over the well opening. "Coming down!" he called out.

They all heard the apparatus clang and clunk its way down the pipe until at last it landed with a splash in the water below. By this time, Virgil had reached Gordon and Pete, with John in tow.

"Is he all right?" Gordon asked.

Before Virgil could answer, John coughed and spluttered, water shooting from his mouth and nose. There was barely enough room now to keep their heads above water.

"Get his mask on!" Gordon said. "And here, Scott sent one down for you."

Virgil moved swiftly, securing John's facemask before donning his own. "Let's get outta here," he said.

"You guys okay?" Scott's voice wafted through their masks.

"Yeah, I think so," Gordon replied. "We're heading out. We'll need a pick-up."

"On my way."

Gordon hauled Pete below water back to the intake valve, while Virgil pulled John along. He was regaining his senses, but wasn't quite aware enough to be of any help. Once they reached the intake valve, Gordon whistled softly.

"What is it?" Virgil asked.

"Would you look at that?" Gordon said, shining his torch along the side of the valve mechanism. "It looks like it's been blown to bits."

"So Scott was right," Virgil breathed, recalling the telepathic connection he and his brother had made right after the explosion. "Is the way clear?"

"Yeah, looks like it. If this was The Hood, he didn't do a very good job of trapping us in here."

"May-Maybe he didn't...intend do," John breathed.

Gordon and Virgil looked at their brother, wondering what he meant, before continuing on their way.

"I heard all that," Scott said. "I'm in Thunderbird 2 now. I'll be landing river-side in five minutes to collect you. Watch yourselves down there, we don't know if he's still here."

"F.A.B.," Gordon replied.

The foursome returned to the submersible without incident. Gordon was soon revving up the engines, and Thunderbird 4 was on her way.

Scott watched as Thunderbird 4 moved up her track. The track then lifted and retracted into Pod 4, with Scott close on its heels. As the autolock door on the side of the cockpit opened, Scott raced up. "Virgil! John! You two okay?"

The men nodded as they supported Pete, one on each side. Gordon was behind them, holding Pete's legs.

"You mind...giving us...a hand?" Gordon ground out.

Scott smiled as he helped them get Pete out to the waiting ambulance. They didn't seem any worse for the wear, and he couldn't have been more pleased. Once Pete was loaded and on his way, Scott turned to his brothers.

"John? You all right? What happened?"

"Pete popped out unexpectedly. Cold-cocked me. Had a taste of Rush Springs mountain water, but I'll be fine."

Scott nodded before looking at Gordon. "I suppose you're fine, too."

"Sure thing, Scott."

"Virgil? You look like a drowned rat."

"Thanks a lot."

The men laughed as Scott closed the Pod hatch. They heard Thunderbird 2 moving down and before long, her clamps latched the Pod into place.

"Let's get back to the factory," Scott said. "We have to clean up before we can head home."

"I'll drive," Virgil said, heading for the cockpit.

Scott's hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "No, you don't. You'll make a mess in there. Get changed, you can fly her home."

Virgil grumbled good-naturedly, heading back the other way in search of clean, dry clothes. Gordon chuckled as he and John strapped themselves in. He happened to glance over at John as Scott brought Thunderbird 2 to life.

"Hey, John, you sure you're okay?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Probably a mild concussion, you know how these things go."

"Well, we'll have Brains check you out as soon as we get home," Scott said. "In the meantime, you stay here while we gather our equipment."

"All right."

Scott and Gordon exchanged looks. It wasn't like their brother to be so complacent when being ordered to stay put. Maybe he'd gotten hit harder than he was letting on.

Having returned safely to Tracy Island, Brains fussed over John, who seemed even quieter than usual. Scott, Virgil and Gordon filled Jeff in on the details of the rescue while Tin-Tin and Alan listened.

"That intake valve was definitely sabotaged," Gordon said.

"It wouldn't surprise me if that wellhead was, too," Scott added.

"Yeah. And somehow I don't think Pete ended up in that pipe by accident. You ever see someone fall into a hole and wind up wedged in feet-first?"

"You all have a point," Jeff replied. "But it doesn't make sense. Why lure you there and then make such a weak attempt on your lives by releasing the intake valve?"

"You know, John said something about how maybe the Hood didn't intend to trap us in the tank," Gordon mused.

Jeff turned as Virgil shook his head. But not shaking it as though saying 'no,' shaking it as though trying to clear cobwebs from his mind. "Son?"

Virgil frowned as he looked at his father.

"You all right?"

"Uh, yeah, Father, I-I'm fine. I think I just need to go lay down for a bit."

"Maybe Brains should take a look at you, too."

Virgil nodded and headed off to the Sick Room.

"That's weird," Alan said from his vid portrait on the wall.

"What is?" Gordon asked.

"I've never known Virgil to agree to a check-up that easily."

"You're right, Alan," Scott replied. "And John, too. He was awfully quiet on the way home."

"Hm. I'll go speak to Brains and see what he's found." Jeff rose from his desk and strode toward the Sick Room.

Scott, Gordon and Tin-Tin frowned as Alan signed off. They were all thinking the same thing, but none of them could figure out how it was two and two kept adding up to six.

Jeff expected to see John lying on the bed when he arrived at the Sick Room. He was surprised, however, to find that not John, but Virgil was in that position, with Brains taking his temperature and blood pressure while John looked on.

"John? How are you feeling?"

"Oh, fine, Father, just fine. Brains says it's just a mild concussion."

"The boys said you were quiet on the way home."

"Yeah, I had one zinger of a headache, didn't feel much like talking. But Brains loaded me up with some ASA, and I'm fine now. I'm more worried about Virgil."

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"I-I'm not sure, Mr., uh, Tracy. His vitals seem normal enough, but his eyes don't, uh, look quite right."

"Virgil?" Jeff asked, coming to the side of the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I-I don't know, Father, I'm a little...confused."

"About what?"

"That's just it, I don't know. I feel like I've forgotten something."

Jeff frowned. "Forgotten something?"

Virgil nodded. "Yeah, but I can't figure it out for the life of me."

Jeff patted his son's arm. "Don't worry, son, I'm sure you'll remember whatever it was. John, let's leave Brains to it."

"All right, Father. Hey, Virg?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Saving my life."

"Oh, you're welcome," Virgil replied. Then he scrunched up his face in confusion as he watched his brother's lithe form retreat into the hallway. "Saving your life? What's he talkin' about, Brains?"

"You, uh, you dove into the well tank and pulled John out after he went under."

"I did what?"