Two: Testing times
Ned Cook clambered out of the hover-plane, stretched, and tried to rub a kink from out of his back. It had been a long time since he'd travelled in such a small aircraft for such a long distance. He looked around. This place appeared to be your typical tropical paradise. Palm trees, white sands, golden sun, blue ocean waters, brightly coloured birds… "Do you think Tracy's place is like this?"
Joe had his nose buried in the engine of the hover-plane. "Probably. We're only about five hundred ks away from there. It's probably why he's living here. For the climate and to get away from people…"
"And to dodge a few taxes."
Joe looked out from under the engine's hood and wiped his hand across his forehead leaving a smudge of grease. "You really don't like this guy do you?"
"I don't know him," Ned admitted. "But I know there's something fishy about him, and I'd guarantee that it's something illegal. It's just a matter of us finding out what."
"And if we don't find anything? What if this whole trip is a waste of time? What if everything is above board and Gordon's working in the States somewhere? What do you think the bosses will say to us then? 'Don't worry, Guys. We don't mind spending a few hundred thousand dollars to send you two on a wild goose chase. Don't think another thing about it.'" Joe snorted and returned his attention to the engine.
"Relax," Ned told him. "I tell you something's not right about Tracy. And I'm equally sure that you and I are going to find out what that something is. We've just got to ensure that we get to spend a little time with him on his tropical hideaway... How're you going?"
"Nearly finished," Joe grunted.
"Are you sure it'll work? We don't want to end up crashing into the Pacific Ocean before we reach 'Tracy Island'."
"Are you worried that International Rescue will have to rescue us again?" Joe chuckled. "Don't panic. It'll work just fine. That cracked component will carry us perfectly safely for the little hop from here to Tracy's. And if what we know of Tracy's reputation is true, there's no way he'll let us risk our necks flying all the way back to the nearest inhabited land. He'll have to order in a replacement part and we'll have to enjoy his hospitality until it arrives."
"You're sure it's safe," Ned double-checked.
"Ned! It's safe!" Joe wrapped the original component in a rag and hid it in a compartment in the hover-plane. Then he closed the engine hatch and clambered back into the 'plane. "Are you ready?"
"I'm ready." Ned reclaimed his seat beside the pilot. "I'm ready to find out exactly what Mr Jeff Tracy is up to…"
Jeff Tracy stood on the tarmac of the runway and looked up at the large green 'plane before him. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Are you happy about this, Virgil? I'd understand if you want a bit more time… Maybe give someone else a chance to check that she's okay before you fly her again?"
Virgil gave his father a reassuring smile. "What's that they say about getting straight back onto a horse if you fall off? I'm fine… We both are. And I'm looking forward to getting airborne in Thunderbird Two again. I've missed not being able to work with her."
"Well… If you're sure."
"I'm sure." Virgil removed his father's hand from his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll get this test flight over and done with and everything will be as it always was. We can all relax knowing that International Rescue is at full strength again, especially with this cyclone coming."
"Well, just remember not to be afraid to bail out if need be. You can guarantee that Scott'll be watching you like a hawk." Even as he spoke they could see Thunderbird One hovering above the summit of Tracy Island like the metaphorical bird of prey.
"I'm pretty sure we'll be all right," Virgil reassured him. "You've all done a great job repairing her and I'm 100 fit. There's nothing to worry about. I'll see you in about an hour's time." He walked over to Thunderbird Two, gave his father a wave and disappeared inside.
Jeff spoke into his radio. "Base to Thunderbirds One and Four. You boys ready?"
Gordon, inside Thunderbird Four, was already waiting in the waters by the end of the Thunderbird Two's runway. "In position," he intoned.
Scott looked over his shoulder at his youngest brother who was dressed in a wetsuit. "Are you ready, Alan?"
"I'm ready and I've got all the necessary kit ready too."
Scott activated his own radio link. "Thunderbird One. We're ready!"
"Base to Thunderbird Five. Requesting final check."
John checked his radar screens. "You're clear to launch."
"Did you hear that, Virgil? You've got the clearance to go. Be careful, Son."
"Yeah, we've put a lot of work into repairing Thunderbird Two," Gordon said. "Don't go breaking her now."
Virgil chuckled. "F-A-B," he acknowledged and started Thunderbird Two rolling down the runway to the launch pad. A short time later she was airborne.
"Base to Thunderbird One. I'm transferring control of this exercise over to you, Scott."
"F-A-B, Father. Okay, Virgil, do five circuits of the island. Start at 1000 kilometres per hour, increase to 2000. Maintain low cruising height."
"F-A-B," Virgil replied and started accelerating. "All systems green." He completed his required laps and brought Thunderbird Two into a low hover. "Ready to start next phase, Scott."
"Good. I'll drop down and pick up Gordon and then we can make a start on Phase Two."
From his vantage point in the air above the island Virgil watched as Thunderbird One came into land and Scott and Alan jumped out. With Gordon and Brains' assistance they loaded more equipment onboard the rocket plane and then the three Tracy men once again boarded the Thunderbird.
"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two. How's she flying, Virgil?"
"She's perfect, John. Maybe even better than before the accident."
"How are you feeling?" John asked.
Virgil suppressed a groan. "I'm fine. The only illness I'm suffering from is being sick of everyone asking how I am."
"You gave us all a hang of a fright. We need that reassurance that you're still with us."
"Well I'm still with you and I'm not planning on going anywhere. So everyone can stop worrying."
"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two," Scott's voice came out of the radio. "We're about to start Phase Two. How are you feeling, Virgil?"
This time the groan couldn't be suppressed. "I'm okay, Scott, never felt better. And I'd appreciate if you'd tell everyone that so that I can concentrate on this test flight. I don't need you all mothering me!"
"Okay, okay! I've got the picture," Scott said quickly. "Sorry."
"Apology accepted. Phase One was a-okay," Virgil told him. "Remind me what's the next test on the agenda?"
"Get her up to 5000 kilometres per hour in 500 k.p.h increments. Any problems, you're to slow down instantly. If you need to bail out I've got both Alan and Gordon on board to pick you up."
"I know, but I doubt there'll be any problems. You guys have done your usual sterling work. She's handling like a dream... Increasing speed now…" Thunderbird Two accelerated and Thunderbird One kept pace, keeping a close watch from a distance.
Scott looked at the speedometer on his console. "3500 kilometres per hour," he read out. "4000, 4500, 5000."
"Cruising at 5000 kilometres per hour," Virgil confirmed.
"Good. Turn 135 degrees west and then take her up to 8000 kilometres per hour."
Virgil did as he was instructed and soon reached the required speed. "All systems green."
"Okay, Thunderbird Two. That's good. Now we'll do the altitude test. Increase height to 20,000 metres."
"Increasing." Thunderbird Two rose smoothly into the air. When it reached 20,000 metres it stopped. "All systems green," Virgil repeated. "Now what?"
"Bring her back to base and go into a low hover. We'll try jettisoning the pod."
"F-A-B." Determined to give Thunderbird Two a thorough workout Virgil didn't follow the direct route back home, instead he took her through a series of tight turns and circles gaining altitude and losing height in quick succession.
All was well.
Tracy Island came into view. "Preparing to drop the pod," Virgil announced. He stopped a few hundred metres off shore and brought Thunderbird Two into a low hover. "Ready."
"Do you think maybe I should wait in Thunderbird Four?" Gordon suggested to Scott. "This is the most dangerous manoeuvre."
Scott considered the suggestion briefly. "Good idea." He opened the radio link. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Maintain current status. I'm going to drop Gordon off and he'll stand by in Thunderbird Four."
"Okay," Virgil acknowledged. "I'm not anticipating any problems, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry."
Scott brought Thunderbird One in to land on the runway. He waited there until he saw Gordon disappear into Thunderbird Four. Only then did he take to the skies again, zooming round till he was able to see Thunderbird Two through his side viewport. "Nice day for sitting around, Alan," he said by way of conversation.
"You wouldn't think there was a cyclone heading our way," Alan said. "Look at that blue sky!"
"Not if you look out there," Scott pointed away from the clear vista towards an ominous line of grey cloud which appeared to be bearing down on them in the distance. "And check out the weather radar," he added, indicating the instrument. "I wouldn't mind betting that the island will start to feel the effects of that cyclone before the day's out. I wonder what John thinks… Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five…"
"Thunderbird Five. What can I do for you, Scott? I can't make Gordon go any faster."
"Just wanting an update on that cyclone."
"Cyclone Sylvia, you mean?"
"Is that what they've called it?"
"Her, Scott. Cyclones always used to be named after women."
"I know. So what's her status?" Scott watched as the end of the runway titled towards the water.
"Still category five. You'll begin to feel the first signs in about five hours."
"What's her path?" Thunderbird Four was rolling along the runway.
"Heading straight for home. She should hit Tracy Island tomorrow morning and the eye will make landfall in approximately two days. I don't envy you guys."
"We'll be all right… Thunderbird Four's in the water. We'd better get back to business. All set, Virgil?"
"Ready," Virgil replied. "All clear, Thunderbird Five?"
"All clear," John confirmed.
"Dropping pod… now!" Virgil hit the release button and Thunderbird Two barely reacted as her middle section fell away into the Pacific's waters.
"Any problems?" Scott asked.
"Negative."
"Okay. Pick it up again."
As with all previous tasks Thunderbird Two handled flawlessly.
"Let's do the rounds again," Scott suggested. "Gain altitude to …."
"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbirds One, Two and Four!" There was no mistaking the urgency in John's voice. "Unidentified aircraft is approaching you from nor-nor-east. Take cover now!"
"Received!" Scott acknowledged. "Get that swimming pool open, Father." Even as he spoke he could see the waters receding into their underground reservoir.
"Gordon! I'm dropping the pod again!" Virgil said with urgency. "Drive in and I'll pick you up. It'll save time."
"F-A-B," Gordon acknowledged and watched as the pod splashed down again. He manoeuvred the submarine into the empty pod and the interior grew dark as the door behind her closed. "Pick me up when you're ready, Virgil."
Once again Virgil lowered Thunderbird Two down over the pod and hoisted her back into the great plane's fuselage. Then he brought Thunderbird Two into land and reversed her into her concealed hangar behind the cliff face, before both he and Gordon changed out of uniform and dashed up into the lounge.
Scott, Alan, Brains and Tin-Tin were already there, listening to the radio conversation between Jeff and the unknown caller. "So you see, Mr Tracy," a strangely familiar voice was saying, "we were hoping to interview Gordon."
The Tracys looked at each other uneasily.
"I'm sorry, Mr Cook," Jeff said. "But, as I think you've already been told, Gordon doesn't give interviews."
"But we've come such a long way, and as I said we've struck a slight problem…"
"Tell him to get lost," Scott growled, a determined expression on his face.
"Shhh," Alan grabbed his brother and dragged him into the hallway, followed closely by their two other brothers and Brains. "He'll hear you!"
"So!" Scott said in indignation. "Let him hear me. We've been polite for long enough…"
"That's not what I mean," Alan insisted. "Have you forgotten that he's heard your voice twice before… as the pilot of Thunderbird One?"
"Oh, heck," Scott said. "I had forgotten that."
"What's going on?" Gordon asked. "Is that idiot coming here? I told him I wasn't interested in doing any interviews."
"Not only that, but something's happened to his 'plane," Alan explained. "He claims he needs a replacement part before he can attempt the flight home. He's asking if he can at least land here to ascertain what repairs need to be made."
"Great!" Virgil moaned. "Just what we need, a nosy reporter hanging round."
"And a cyclone on the way," Alan reminded him. "How long would it take for you to manufacture a replacement part?"
"Depends on what's broken and how badly," Virgil told him. "Any ideas what it is?"
"Something n-not too serious," Brains said. "H-His pilot thinks they can make T-Tracy Island okay."
"So now the problem is," Alan folded his arms and looked at Scott and Gordon, "what do we do with you two? He's met both of you as members of International Rescue."
"Cook wasn't in good shape when I picked him up, but that's no guarantee that he won't recognise me," Gordon remembered. "He perked up when I got some oxygen into him. And there was his cameraman too. Is he on this flight?"
"I think he's the pilot," Scott said.
"He came to as I was offloading them into the ambulance." Gordon frowned at the recollection. "That's double trouble. I've got no option other than to hide in the underground bunkers, have I? I'll go start packing some gear now in case they aren't able to leave before the cyclone hits. Can you give me a hand, Alan?"
"Sure," Alan agreed.
"And what are we going to do about Scott's voice?" Virgil asked.
"I suppose asking you to go against the habit of a lifetime and not order us about would be too much to expect," Alan suggested. Scott gave him a sour look.
"I have something that could g-give you laryngitis," Brains offered. "It w-would be rather painful though."
"And what do we do if International Rescue's called out? I'll need to be able to speak then," Scott stated. "There's nothing else for it. Gordon and I will both have to hide. Can you give me a hand with my gear, Virgil?"
"What do we do if International Rescue's called out?" Alan asked.
"We'll activate Operation Storm Surge," Scott said. "Come on, fellas, we're wasting time. Brains, would you mind letting Father know what we've got planned?"
"Certainly, S-Scott." Brains returned to the lounge.
Jeff had finished the radio call with Ned Cook and was scowling at the receiver. "Well, Brains, for better or for worse he's coming here."
"Gordon and Scott have decided to hide in the b-bunkers, Mr Tracy."
"Scott? Why, Scott?" Jeff asked.
"They have heard his v-voice," Brains reminded his employer.
"That's right…" Jeff bit his lip and sat back. "Did you hear what was wrong with the plane?"
"Y-Yes, Mr Tracy. It is not a serious problem."
"Do you think I've made the right decision inviting them here?"
"I-I think that as far as their welfare is concerned it is the best d-decision you could make."
"And as far as our welfare is concerned?"
"I-I don't know, Mr Tracy. Scott suggested that if International Rescue gets called out we'll have to activate Operation Storm Surge."
"That's logical." Jeff sighed and looked up at the row of portraits that lined the wall. "In the meantime we're going to have to hide as many pictures of Gordon as we can, without being obvious about it. From this moment we're operating under Operation Coverup Minus G." He pushed a button combination on his computer and Gordon's portrait slid backward into the wall. A replacement panel slid into its place, the paint slightly darker than the surrounding wall covering. The other portraits slid to one side, hiding the Tracy boys in their uniforms and replacing them with more casual shots. "We'll tell anyone who asks that his portrait was damaged and I'm having it repaired." Jeff picked up a photo that resided on his desk. "At least this one is of them all as boys…"
Ned Cook rubbed his hands together. "He fell for it, Joe!"
Joe chuckled. "He certainly did. He's going to have the welcome mat out for us isn't he?"
"He is. Can you imagine us living a life of luxury, courtesy of Jeff Tracy, while we find out exactly what he's hiding? Joe, my friend, I have a feeling that this is going to be the scoop of the century!"
Jeff Tracy met the newsmen cordially if slightly warily. "Welcome to my home, Gentlemen. I'm sorry you've had to travel such a long way on a wasted trip. Gordon's not living here at the moment."
"Oh," Joe tried to look disappointed. "I hope you're not going to tell us that he's in the States and we could have met him there instead of flying all this way in this bucket of bolts." He thumped the hover-plane lightly on its fuselage.
"No, he's not in the States," Jeff said. "He's working for me elsewhere on a highly confidential project. I'm sure you understand that I don't want to divulge more… for business reasons."
"Of course," Ned said. "We understand perfectly. And we do appreciate your offer of assistance. Joe tells me that whatever is broken in the hover-plane needs replacing. I don't pretend to understand aeronautical mechanics."
"Would you mind if my son, Virgil," Jeff indicated the chestnut haired young man who was standing off to one side of the group, "had a look at the damaged part. He might be able to repair it."
"We'd be grateful of any help," Ned said, sounding cheerful at the offer. "Isn't that right, Joe?"
"Oh, yes," Joe agreed. "Extremely grateful."
"Looks like you're on," Alan whispered into Virgil's ear. "What are you going to do? The ol' two step shuffle?"
Virgil looked at his brother. "What?"
"The way everyone's tap-dancing around each other I thought you might want to join in."
Virgil shook his head in exasperation and stepped up to the hover-plane. He stood on a small platform, opened the engine compartment and looked inside. "What appears to be the problem?" he asked, his voice sounding hollow.
Joe came and stood beside him. "There," he pointed out the damaged component. "We noticed that had cracked when we stopped on an island a few hundred kilometres away from here. We figured it was safer to fly on rather than risk facing that cyclone."
"Mmn," Virgil agreed, not willing to comment. "I can machine a new part, but it'll take a few hours."
"How many do you reckon, Virgil?" Alan asked.
Virgil stepped down and wiped his hands on a rag. "Two, maybe three." He gave his father an apologetic look.
"The cyclone will be almost upon us by then," Jeff noted. "Looks like you'll be staying with us until it's passed, Gentlemen."
"I hope we're not putting you to any trouble," Ned lied. "We didn't come here expecting to take up more that a couple of hours of Gordon's time."
Jeff didn't acknowledge the statement.
Virgil had his head back inside the hover-plane's workings. "We'd better move the 'plane into the hangar. It'll be easier to work on there."
"And drier if that cyclone hits early," Alan added. "I'll help ya, Virg."
"Will you need Brains' help?" Jeff asked.
Virgil shook his head. "No. Between Alan and I, we can manage. I'll make a start on the 'plane when we've finished securing the house."
"Fine," Jeff said. "We'll leave you boys to it. Mr Cook…"
"Ned. Please call me Ned," Ned smiled an ingratiating smile.
"And I'm Joe," Joe piped up.
"Very well," Jeff agreed, but did not reciprocate the invitation. "Ned… Joe… If you'll both come with me I'll take you up to the house."
"Thank you, Mr Tracy." Ned and Joe removed their bags from the plane and followed their host up to the villa under the darkening skies.
Virgil and Gordon looked at each other and set about shifting the plane under the protective cover of the hangar.
Inside the villa Jeff introduced the two unwanted guests to the other residents. "This is my mother…"
"Mrs Tracy," Ned directed his most bewitching smile towards the elderly lady.
She responded with a curt nod and received a warning glare from her son.
"This is my head engineer and researcher," Jeff indicated Brains.
Ned filed a mental note about how odd it was that Jeff Tracy had a scientist living with him. There had to be something of interest there.
"Mr T-Tracy," the little man stuttered. "All is well with the b-bunker's, ah, latest additions."
"Good, Brains. Thank you," Jeff said. "This is Brains' assistant, Tin-Tin."
"How do you do, Mr Cook," Tin-Tin said, trying to sound gracious.
"Ah, both beauty and brains," Ned gave her a winning smile.
Tin-Tin resisted the temptation to be sick.
"And this is Tin-Tin's father, Kyrano," Jeff completed the introductions. "Perhaps you'll take Ned and Joe's bags to the guest rooms, Kyrano."
Kyrano bowed. "It would be a pleasure, Mr Tracy."
Ned put a few pieces of the puzzle together. So Kyrano was Tracy's servant and his daughter was his head engineer's assistant. Maybe that's why the head engineer lived with them.
Maybe.
"…Put the camera equipment into the storeroom," Jeff was saying.
"Now wait a minute!" Joe protested. "You can't do that!"
Jeff turned to the cameraman with an expression that could only be interpreted as cool. "I'm sorry, but as long as you are in this house I will not permit any recordings to be made. You can be assured that your equipment will be perfectly safe."
"But… But why?" Joe spluttered as he watched Kyrano place the heavy camera gear onto a trolley in preparation for removing it from the room.
"I'm sure you are aware," Jeff said, "that I value my privacy. And… and I mean no disrespect to either of you gentlemen, but as a rule I don't trust the media. I would feel much happier knowing that your equipment is under lock and key."
"You can't do that!" Joe stormed. "Haven't you heard of the freedom of the press?"
"I have. But on this island, my word is law. If you like, you have come, uninvited, to a benign dictatorship."
"This is crazy! It's wrong! It's…"
"Whoa, Joe," Ned soothed. "As Mr Tracy says, it's his place, and as he's kindly agreed to let us stay here until the storm passes, I think we should go along with what he says. I'm sure your gear will be perfectly all right."
"But…"
"And if Gordon's not here, you've nothing to film anyway." Ned turned back to Jeff, determined to get back into his good books. "You don't know cameramen, Mr Tracy. They become very possessive of their equipment, believing that only they can operate that piece of machinery to its maximum potential. Take them away from their cameras and they feel that the journalistic world will degenerate into a mush of senseless nonsense. As a rule we try to humour them…"
"Ned…" Joe protested.
Ned ignored him. "I'm sorry if we've caused offence, Mr Tracy."
Jeff decided that if they were going to be trapped together for goodness knows how many hours, they'd better try to get along. "No offence taken."
Ned looked at a row of portraits that ran the length of one wall and noticed one missing. "These are your boys, Mr Tracy?"
"Yes, you've already met Virgil and Alan. Gordon, Scott and John are away on business."
"Where is Virgil?" Grandma asked.
"He and Alan are securing the house against the cyclone, before he starts work on Mr Cook's 'plane."
"Jeff!" she scolded.
"He's all right, Mother. Don't worry."
Grandma glared at her son in disapproval, but said nothing.
Ned examined the portraits. "Which one's Gordon?"
"I'm afraid Gordon's portrait has been broken. The frame was poorly made and I'm having it replaced." Jeff's lie sounded convincing.
"Handsome men," Ned commented.
"Yes they are," Jeff agreed.
"Do you know that's the first photo I've seen of Alan?" Ned indicated the portrait of the young blonde. "It's next to impossible to find one of him, despite the fact he's an accomplished driver."
"Alan doesn't like being in the limelight," Jeff told him. "None of my boys do."
"Following in their father's footsteps are they?" Ned laughed. "It's been even harder to find a photo of Gordon. Perhaps you'll be able to supply me an up-to-date one for the show."
"I don't think that will be possible," Jeff almost growled. "I believe Gordon has told you that he doesn't wish to participate in your TV show."
"Not exactly," Ned said. "One of your P.R. people has told me that Gordon doesn't want to participate."
"On Gordon's instructions," he was informed.
"But the viewing public would like to know what one of the youngest gold medallists ever has been doing in the intervening years. Especially since his hydrofoil accident."
Jeff was firm in his reply. "Then I'm afraid you are going to have to disappoint the viewing public. Kyrano, have you made up the guest rooms?"
"Yes, Mr Tracy, I have prepared two rooms in the Villa. I fear that the cyclone will make walking between the Round House and the villa impossible."
It wasn't an ideal situation from International Rescue's point of view, but Jeff accepted it. "Thank you, Kyrano."
"Mr Cook." Kyrano bowed again. "If you and your associate will follow me, I will take you to your rooms."
"Thank you, Kyrano," Ned said and tugged at his friend's sleeve. "Come on, Joe."
The three of them departed the room.
Jeff waited a moment before he spoke. "This is not going to be easy, I can see that."
"He's persistent," Tin-Tin noted.
"And smooth, too smooth," Mrs Tracy agreed. "But what can we do? We said we'd repair his hover-plane."
"And the cyclone's too c-close," Brains added. "It would practically be m-murder to send them out in that little 'plane now."
"I know," Jeff sat down in his customary place at his desk. "We're just all going to have to be very, very careful."
To be continued…