Three: Revelations
Buried deep underground, almost in the heart of the volcano that topped Tracy Island, the bunkers were a refuge from the outside world. Consisting of five twin bedrooms, a communal living room, a kitchen, and a small ablution area, they were a complete, self-contained unit able to sustain life for up to two years.
The idea of being trapped underground for that length of time made Gordon's blood run cold. He threw the last of his things into the drawer and shoved it closed with his knee. Then he looked around the room that was going to be his for the next few days. Like the others in this part of the complex it contained two beds, two chests of drawers and two trunks. It wasn't a bad room, as bedrooms go, and, apart from the fact that there were no windows, you could almost forget that you were surrounded on all sides by solid granite.
Almost.
Long ago the decision had been made as to who would share with whom in the case of nuclear explosion, hostile invasion or any number of unthinkable scenarios. Scott and Virgil would bunk together in room one. Gordon and his occasional partner in crime, Alan, would live in room two…
"Behind lock and key?" John, destined to be billeted with his father in room three, had suggested at the time.
As they were each used to their own form of quiet meditation/contemplation, Brains and Kyrano had room four. Naturally Tin-Tin and Grandma shared the final room together.
By mutual agreement, and in an attempt to maintain their sanity, Gordon and Scott had agreed to sleep alone in their allocated rooms.
Gordon eyed the trunks at the end of the two beds. Each was locked and contained some personal items that belonged to one of the room's tenants. He knew what was in his and was curious as to what Alan had chosen to store in the one at the foot of his bed.
Deciding that he had plenty of time to 'admire' his surroundings later, Gordon decided to escape the bunkers for a short time, knowing that Scott would still be putting away his things. Ignoring the way in which they'd entered, he instead chose to leave via another exit. He followed a dim, narrow corridor for what seemed to be miles, climbing and passing through numerous heavy steel doors, until, almost unexpectedly, the walls fell back and the ceiling rose up forming what could be a massive mausoleum. He walked across the room, hardly making a sound, and climbed up a short incline. "Hi, Virg."
Virgil, working inside Pod 4, jumped in fright, hit his head on a shelf and spun round. "Don't do that to me!"
"Sorry. Watcha doin'?"
Virgil stepped clear of the shelf. "Cleaning down the pod. We might be called out to a rescue with this cyclone."
"I hope not. Not with Cook nosing round."
"Are you settled?"
"Yep," Gordon nodded.
"Where's Scott?"
"Probably still colour co-ordinating his underwear in his drawers."
Virgil chuckled.
"Where's Alan?" Gordon asked.
"He's making a start on prepping Thunderbird One. When Scott comes out from the dungeons he can take over and then Alan can give us a hand here. Do you want to check Thunderbird Four while I carry on with what I was doing?"
"That's what I'm here for." Gordon climbed into his yellow submarine and started the diagnostics programme. When he was satisfied that the computer was humming away he stuck his head out of the hatch just in time to see their eldest brother startle Virgil when he came bounding into the pod.
"Didn't take you long to get sorted," Scott said to Gordon.
"Nope. I just chucked everything into my drawers. It's not like we're going to be down here for months."
"Maybe not, but it could easily be for at least a week." Scott turned to Virgil. "Where's Alan?"
"Doing your job for you," Virgil told him. "He's made a start on Thunderbird One."
"Good. I'd better go and make sure he's doing it properly," Scott said and turned to go. He stopped when his watch beeped.
Gordon frowned when he saw Virgil flinch.
Scott didn't see the movement as he looked at the timepiece, its light casting an eerie glow over his face. "Scott here."
"Hi, Scott," his brothers heard Alan's voice. "I just thought I'd let you know that Thunderbird One's shipshape. You don't need to do anything to her."
"Thanks, Alan, but you won't mind if I double check, will you?"
"You don't need to."
"I know I don't need to, but I want to…"
"She's okay, Scott!" Gordon and Virgil could imagine Alan's expression at what he would perceive to be his big brother's lack of trust. His disapproval was clear from the tone of his voice.
"She's also my 'bird and I'll sleep a lot better knowing that I've given her the once over too."
"Fine," Alan muttered. "Have it your way. Where is everyone?"
"Pod Four."
"I'll come and help Virg then. At least he appreciates my assistance."
"It's not you, Alan," Scott began. "It's…" The light on his face was extinguished. "He disconnected me!"
Virgil and Gordon burst out laughing. "You're surprised?" Gordon exclaimed. "He thinks you don't trust him."
"Of course I trust him. I'll bet he'd want to check Thunderbird Three for himself if I'd been the one checking her over. You'd want to give Thunderbird Four the once over if I'd checked her, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, yes," Gordon nodded vigorously. "Definitely."
There was a bang as Alan announced his entrance into the pod by slamming the door behind him.
Virgil, yet again, jumped in fright and pretended to stagger back until he was supported against the wall of the pod, his hand pressed to his chest. "What is it with you guys? I thought you were glad that I survived the crash," he complained. "Now I think you're all trying to frighten me to death."
"Are you all right?" Gordon asked in concern. "You seem to be a bit jumpy."
Virgil straightened. "I'm fine. I'm just on edge because there's a category five cyclone on the way, we haven't fully tested Thunderbird Two, and we've got two nosy reporters in the house."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Scott pressed.
"I'm sure."
"Really sure?"
"Scott!" Virgil snapped in exasperation. "I'm fine! Go check Thunderbird One!"
"Yeah," Alan sounded sullen. "Check I haven't left my toys lying around." His brothers ignored him.
"Thunderbird Two will be fine," Gordon was trying to reassure Virgil. "My only concern is Cook!" He glared up towards the ceiling.
"I keep telling myself that she's as good as she was," Virgil admitted. "I know she handled flawlessly in the tests we did. But I would have been happier if we could have made some more test flights… Maybe even through the fringes of the cyclone."
"And we would have done if those two hadn't turned up in a broken plane," Scott grumbled. "When are you going to fix it?"
"Straight after I've finished here," Virgil told him. "I don't want them to have any excuses for hanging around here longer than necessary…"
Ned Cook exited his room and wandered up the hallway of the Tracy Villa. He had to admit that the room he'd been given was one of the most comfortable that he'd stayed in in all his years working as a journalist. He stopped every now and then to admire the photos that lined the walls. Most of them were of the Tracy boys, he noted. None of them were of Gordon.
He found himself in the lounge and took a moment to admire the four portraits, before examining the one that wasn't there. He ran his fingers along the darkened paint that showed where the portrait had existed and examined the tips. They were clean. He reflected that if it weren't for this shadow it would almost be easy to believe that there were only four Tracy sons in the household. For some reason 'Gordon's' portrait had occupied the last space in the line-up. He frowned. He was sure that Jasmine had told him that Alan was the youngest.
"Strange," he said to himself.
He turned away from the enigma that was the Tracy boys and walked out onto the patio. Here, if he looked to the one way, he could see the blue sky of a brilliant tropical day. It was from the opposite direction that you could see the approaching menace; a long line of almost black cloud marching relentlessly towards Tracy Island, driving before it a mild chop in the Pacific's waters. For no real reason Ned shuddered.
He looked down below him and gave an ironic chuckle. He was definitely at a billionaire's house. Who else would have a swimming pool when he was living so close to sandy beaches and the ocean? Some people obviously liked to, literally, splash their money about. The pool drew his thoughts back to the original reason why he was here on Tracy Island. Where was Gordon Tracy? And why were there no recent pictures of him…?
Ned heard a sound behind him and turned to see who had entered the lounge. It was Tin-Tin and he gave her a smile in greeting. She hesitated a moment and then came out to join him on the patio. "Hello, Mr Cook," she acknowledged.
"Please, call me Ned. And your name is Tin-Tin, isn't it?" he asked, turning on the charm. "That's an interesting name."
"It's Malaysian," she offered with an uncertain smile.
"Ah, that explains your delicate features. So you work for Mr Tracy."
"Yes, Mr Cook."
"Doing what?"
"Helping Brains," she said guardedly.
"Doing what?" he repeated.
"Research."
"Research into what?"
"Various projects."
"Top secret?"
"Yes."
"Come on," he gave her a playful nudge. "I won't tell anyone. Give us a clue. Just one project?"
"Sorry, Mr Cook. I can not."
"You're loyal to Mr Tracy. I can see that."
"Yes, Mr Cook. My father and I owe a lot to Mr Tracy."
"I've been checking out the photos of his sons. There's not many of Gordon… In fact I don't think I've seen any!"
He watched as her cheeks reddened and she looked away down into the courtyard below. "Virgil and Alan have managed to store everything away," she said in a flustered manner.
"What's usually there?" he asked, trying to put her at ease again.
"Pool furniture," she replied, glad to be able to give a straight answer.
"Don't want that blowing away in a storm, do we?" Ned said.
"No," Tin-Tin agreed.
"Though it doesn't seem to be coming any closer," Ned indicated the line of grey in the sky.
"John says it's stalled."
"John does?"
Tin-Tin nodded. "According to the satellite's weather computer…" Suddenly realising what she was saying, she raised her hand to her mouth, and paled.
"Satellite?" Ned queried, intrigued by her reaction.
"He… ah… he does astronomy. He needs to know if the weather's clear. He accesses one of Mr Tracy's satellite computer stations… yes, that's right… in a building." Tin-Tin was talking quickly, trying to cover her tracks. "He telephoned earlier. I spoke to him. He said the cyclone's stopped, but he thinks it'll start moving again… soon…" She stopped talking, breathing slightly heavily and looked around trying to find an excuse to escape.
"So is that what John's doing? A little star gazing?"
Tin-Tin nodded, wary. Her lips clamped tightly shut.
"And he's gone somewhere else to do this?"
Tin-Tin nodded again.
"Is this one of Mr Tracy's projects?"
Tin-Tin turned when she heard someone call her name softly. "Father?"
"My daughter, Mister Brains is looking for you."
"Thank you, Father. I will come straight away… Goodbye, Mr Cook," she gasped.
"Ned… Please call me, Ned," he insisted, but she had gone.
He watched as father and daughter conversed in quiet tones. Tin-Tin, her head bowed in a subservient manner totally at odds with her modern attire, spoke first as Kyrano, frowning, kept glancing in Ned's direction. Then the older man said something in reply before taking the young lady by the arm and leading her out of the lounge.
"Done!" Alan slapped his hands together in satisfaction. "How's it look, Virgil?"
"Fine, Alan."
"At least you appreciate my work."
"Alan!" Scott said in exasperation. "I never said I didn't appreciate your work!"
"Leave him, Scott," Gordon suggested. "He'll grow out of it eventually."
"Gordon!" Alan complained.
Someone's watch beeped. They all looked at Scott as he answered it. "Hello, John."
"Hiya, Scott. Are you settled yet?"
"Ages ago," he was told.
"Oh!" John sounded surprised. "I thought you'd still be unpacking!" From behind Scott's frown he heard Alan laugh. "Where are you?"
"In the pod. We've just finished going through the checklists."
"That's good. Sylvia's on the move again and she doesn't look like she's any less furious. I wouldn't be surprised if we get a mayday before she's blown herself out."
"Thanks for that, John," Scott growled. "That's NOT what we wanted to hear."
"Any time. Just thought I'd keep you up with the play," John sounded almost obscenely cheerful. "I'll call you if there's any further developments."
"Thanks," Scott's growl had lowered an octave.
"See you, Scott."
"Later." Scott signed off. "Great!" He slapped his hand onto the pod's bulkhead.
"I think," Gordon was reaching into one of the lockers in the side of the pod, "I'll put my uniform into my room. That way if we do get a call out I can be dressed by the time you guys have escorted Cook and Co into the storm rooms. I can have Thunderbird Two rolling while Virgil's getting changed."
"Good idea," Scott agreed. "Pass me my uniform will you?"
"Sure." Gordon opened a locker and withdrew the two tone blue uniform that belonged to Scott. "Here y'are." He threw it towards his brother.
"Hey!" Scott caught it. "You'll crease it!"
"That's our uniform you're talking about, Scott," Alan reminded him. "It doesn't crease."
"That's not the point…"
Virgil shook his head in exasperation. "I'm not going to hang around here and listen to you fellas argue. I'm going to start the repairs to Cook's 'plane."
"While you're doing that, Gordon and I can shift Mobile Control into Thunderbird Two," Scott said. "If the winds get as strong as John's predicting, there's no way I'm going to be able to launch Thunderbird One through the swimming pool."
"Okay." Virgil left the pod.
Alan attempted to follow him, but was held back. "Keep an eye on him, will you?" Scott asked quietly. "Make sure he doesn't overdo it?"
"I'm okay, Scott!" Virgil yelled from the other side of the room. "Quit worrying!"
"How'd he know?" they heard Gordon mutter.
Alan rolled his eyes. "He's fine, Scott. He was shifting the pool furniture as if he'd never been injured. I think all that lying about must have rejuvenated him. Don't worry!"
Scott eyed his youngest brother. "Well… Okay… But…"
"I'll make sure he doesn't overdo it," Alan appeased him, while trying not to look at Gordon who was pulling faces.
"Sorry that it sounded as though I didn't trust you before, Alan," Scott apologised. "I guess it's not only Virgil who's on edge with all that's going on at the moment."
Alan patted him on the shoulder. "That's okay, Scott. I understand. I'll come back and see you later… okay?" He detached himself from Scott's grip and ran after Virgil.
"He was asking you to keep an eye on me, wasn't he?" Virgil asked as they walked from the hangar, through a false wall, and into a supply room.
"Yep… He's going to go and check Thunderbird One now, isn't he?"
"Yep." Chuckling they checked that the way in front of them was clear and then walked into the conventional aeroplane hangar. Virgil eyed Ned and Joe's plane. "I wonder when they noticed that component was cracked? Fuel consumption must have been skyrocketing!"
"Do you need my help at the moment?" Alan asked.
"Why? What were you planning?"
"I thought I'd do a bit of snooping of my own…"
Ned decided that he'd head back down to the guest rooms and see how Joe was getting on. He was halfway down the hallway when he came upon Grandma Tracy, industriously dusting the photo gallery. "Does your son pay a good wage?" he joked.
"I like to maintain the illusion that he and the boys still need me," she replied.
"I'd bet they'd be lost without you," Ned's smile was ingratiating. It was an expression that had worked well with little old ladies in the past. Before long she'd be offering him a delicious meal and telling him all the family secrets.
'Crawler,' Grandma thought. "My boys are completely self sufficient," she said out loud.
"They must be, if three of them are willing to leave this tropical paradise… Even for a short time."
She said nothing.
Ned examined the photos. "These are almost a complete history lesson on your family's achievements."
"Yes," there was pride in her voice. "This is Jeff when he came back from the moon… That's Scott being presented with his medal for valour... That's Alan winning at Parola Sands…" she moved along the line of photos. "This is when John graduated from Harvard…"
"What about Gordon?" Ned asked. "I would have thought you'd at least have one photo of Gordon winning his Olympic medal. But there's nothing."
Grandma bit her lip.
Ned kept on pressing his point. "In fact the only photo of Gordon that I've seen in this house is the one on your son's desk. And how old would he have been then? Three? Four?"
"Two," Grandma replied. "It was taken just before…"
"Yes?" Ned had the feeling he was going to learn something of interest.
Grandma looked about her furtively. "Look, Mr Cook…"
"Please call me, Ned."
"Ned… I'm going to tell you this… but you must promise to tell no one! You mustn't even mention it to my family!"
"Why?" Ned frowned in puzzlement.
"Because… Because no one talks about it. No one dares! The memories are too…" Grandma shrugged as if she were struggling to find the right word.
Ned waited with baited breath, sure that he was going to hear something monumental about the lives of the Tracy family. He surreptitiously turned on a voice recorder concealed in his pocket.
"You may have noticed…" Grandma sounded hesitant as she began to tell her tale. "That all of my grandsons have followed, to a certain extent, in their father's footsteps. They've all become pilots or astronauts…"
"Yes," Ned nodded. He had noticed that.
"…All except Gordon. For years Jeff has pretended that he hasn't minded, that he's been proud of Gordon's achievements… But I've known… I've known that beneath the surface…"
"Yes?" Ned repeated.
"My son is a proud man. He's proud of the fact that four of his boys have chosen to be like him."
"And he's not so proud of the one son who didn't?"
Grandma nodded, appearing to be saddened by Jeff's attitude to Gordon. "It all came to a head a few weeks ago."
"What did?"
"It's when your researcher started requesting the interview with Gordon. He was quite excited by the idea that the world actually remembered him for something that he'd achieved, and not only because he was Jeff Tracy's son…"
"And Jeff Tracy didn't like it?"
Grandma shook her head miserably. "No. All those years of disappointment came to the surface. There was an argument… Such language! And Jeff said that there's no one lower than a WASP submariner! He meant it literally as well as figuratively and it cut Gordon to the quick, I could see that." She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Ned said.
"If John and Scott had have been home it would have been different. Scott has an almost parental way with his brothers, and John's always been a quietening influence…" She shook her head again and allowed herself a dramatic sigh. "But they weren't home. There was no one capable of separating the pair of them until things calmed down… It ended with Gordon storming out of the house, vowing never to come back. And Jeff made a vow too. He vowed that from that day onwards he only had four sons. He never wanted to hear Gordon's name mentioned again." Pretending to blow her nose she thought, 'I hope you feel guilty, Ned Cook!'
Ned didn't. "But he keeps that photo of his wife and five sons on his desk."
"That's his favourite photo. It was taken a few days before Lucille was killed. He couldn't bear to be parted from it. It must be tearing him to shreds to look at this photo and see the son he's disowned."
Ned Cook was silent for a moment. This was a side to Jeff Tracy that he hadn't expected to have revealed to him. And it was revealing too! It gave him a hitherto unseen insight into Jeff Tracy, philanthropic billionaire.
"You can understand why you mustn't repeat this to anyone!" Mrs Tracy was saying.
"Oh, yes," Ned agreed.
"You can also understand why everyone has been on edge," Grandma continued. "I'm pretty sure his brothers have been secretly looking for Gordon, but we've no idea where he is at this moment." In order to reconcile the lie she was telling she told herself quietly, 'He could be in his new room, or with Thunderbird Four, or Thunderbird Two...'
"Yes, I understand." Ned looked into her faded blue eyes as his understanding grew. He'd put down the obvious unease this family had been displaying to the approaching cyclone, and to a lesser extent, to his and Joe's presence on the island. The dispute and Gordon's subsequent disappearance made a much more compelling argument. "Not a word of what you've told me will pass my lips."
"Thank you, Mr Cook…"
"Ned."
"Thank you, Ned. I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself." 'I'll bet!'
"I'd better leave you to your work," Ned said. "Perhaps we can talk later?"
Grandma Tracy gave him a gracious nod. 'Or perhaps you'll get into that broken plane of yours and fly off into the cyclone.'
Humming quietly to himself, Ned knocked on his partner's door. It slid open revealing a disgruntled Joe. "Oh. It's you."
"Still sulking because he took away your camera?"
"I'm a cameraman, Ned. How am I supposed to film anything without my camera? We're going to be in the middle of a cyclone. Imagine what footage I could get!"
"You should do what I do, my friend, and carry a spare," Ned produced the recorder.
Joe smirked. "You've picked up some dirt on the Tracys?"
"Now, Joe, I made a solemn promise that not one word of what I heard will pass my lips."
"So you're going to let your gizmo doing the talking for you," Joe guessed.
Ned grinned and pushed the play button…
"Jeff? May I have a word?"
Jeff looked up from his desk. "Of course, Mother." He watched her as she made a point of ensuring that the door was closed before taking a seat.
"We won't be overheard?"
Jeff chuckled. "You know full well that this room's soundproofed."
"I've been talking to Ned Cook."
At once Jeff's good humour soured. "What's he been saying?" he growled.
"Not a lot. I was the one who did all the talking."
"Mother?"
"I told him a little white lie."
"Mother!" Jeff repeated. "What did you say?"
"I told him that the reason why there aren't any photographs of Gordon is because you and he had had a falling out."
"Mother!" Jeff sat back, aghast at the revelation.
She detailed her conversation with the reporter. "You did say that there was nothing lower than a WASP submariner…"
"But I made that comment as a joke at Gordon's 21st birthday party! I'm proud of what he's achieved!"
"I know that, and Gordon knows that, but Cook doesn't. And if it helps to get him off our back… I did it for International Rescue, Jeff!"
"I know, and thank you… but I can't believe that you lied. My mother lied!"
Mrs Tracy sat back and gave him a grim smile. "Just remember there's a few surprises in the old girl yet."
"So I'm learning…"
Virgil examined the cracked component carefully. Ned and Joe had been very lucky, he had to admit. If they'd had to go much further the unit would have broken for sure. He said as much to Alan and got a muttered reply from somewhere within the hover-plane.
The first task was to get detailed measurements of the various dimensions of the component. Virgil opened the lid on the scanning machine and placed the part inside. This was critical. He needed to expose as much of the surface area to the scanner's laser as possible, while keeping the component in one piece. Gingerly he lowered the clamp that was designed to keep whatever was being scanned immobile. Unhappy with it's placement he lifted the clamp up and repositioned everything before lowering the clamp down again.
A snapping sound heralded his worst fears.
Stifling a mild curse he removed both segments of the now broken component and examined them critically. This was going to add at least two more hours onto the repair time.
"How's it going," Alan asked from behind him.
Virgil turned, and looked at his brother, who was standing with his hands behind his back. "I broke it."
"Tricky," Alan said. "Can you still make a replacement?"
"Yes. But it's going to take twice as long. I'll have to take and enter the measurements manually."
"So if you had a complete unit, you could get the replacement made quicker?"
"Of course." Virgil wondered why he was being forced to state the obvious.
"Then maybe this'll help." Alan brought his hands around to the front. In them he held an exact replica of the broken part that Virgil was holding.
Virgil dropped the broken unit onto a workbench and took the one Alan had found. He examined it, noting that this 'new' component had been used recently. He looked back at his brother. "We've been conned…"
Up in the lounge, Joe stretched and put his feet on the coffee table. A scowl from Mrs Tracy caused him to place them back on the floor.
"Thank you, Kyrano," Ned accepted the cup of coffee and took a sip. "This is great!"
The Malaysian inclined his head in acknowledgement and said nothing.
Jeff, seated behind his desk, accepted his customary cup. "I wonder if Alan and Virgil would like one."
"I called them," Kyrano informed him. "There was no reply."
"Maybe that means Virgil has finished," Tin-Tin said hopefully and looked out the window. Her spirits sank when she saw the grey clouds scudding past.
"I hope so," Mrs Tracy said. "He's working too…" Her sentence was cut short when the object of discussion entered the lounge, followed by his youngest brother. Both had faces as dark and thunderous as the sky outside.
"What's wrong, Boys?" Jeff asked.
By way of an answer Virgil and Alan placed three pieces of metal on the coffee table in front of Ned and Joe.
"Virgil! How many times have I told you not to put your greasy things on the furniture!" Mrs Tracy scolded. "Ah… What are they?"
"Perhaps you'd care to answer, Cook!" Virgil demanded.
Ned put on his most ingratiating smile as Joe exclaimed. "You've fixed it! Thank you!"
"Fixed it?" Alan snarled. "Found it more like."
"What?" Jeff had come over to see what all the fuss was about. "What's going on?"
"Alan found this in the hover-plane," Virgil explained.
"In a hidden compartment under the pilot's seat," Alan added.
Jeff turned back to the two unwanted guests. "Well?"
"Well…" Joe wasn't known for thinking fast on his feet.
Ned was, "You were snooping through our things!"
"Yeah," Alan was still snarling. "Just like you're planning to do with ours…"
"Alan!" Jeff snapped before turning back to the two 'guests'. "What do you two have to say for yourselves?"
Ned shrugged. "I'll have to have words with the engineer when I get back to…"
"Are you trying to tell us that you know nothing about this?" Virgil scoffed.
Jeff picked up the complete component and examined it. "This has been recently used," he said, to a background accompaniment of tutting from his mother at the state of affairs… and her coffee table. "How badly damaged was this…" he picked up half of the broken unit, "… when you started working on it, Virgil?"
"Bad enough that they would have been haemorrhaging fuel," Virgil told him. "Look at how clean the cut is. They can't have been using it for much further than 500 kilometres."
"From around about the Su'an Islands then?" Jeff stated
"That's what I think."
"Some crackpot must have swapped those parts over when we landed there," Joe ventured gamely.
"And left the original hidden in your hover-plane?" Jeff gave him a look that had squashed many an employee… and errant son. "You're also forgetting the fact that they're uninhabited. Who would have replaced it? Seals? Castaways?"
Joe shrugged. "Maybe."
Jeff took a step closer. Now he was towering over the pair of them. From their position on the couch both Ned and Joe were getting a good impression of just how imposing Jeff Tracy could be. "'Gentlemen'," and his quiet voice belied his anger. "Would you care to explain your actions?"
Joe looked at Ned. Ned looked at Jeff Tracy and then stood so he was able to stare him in the eye. "All right! I'll admit that we thought up that little scheme to buy some time with Gordon, or to at least find a little bit more about him. We weren't banking on being trapped by a cyclone."
"I'll bet," Alan growled.
"So you decided to take advantage of our hospitality, while you tried to get your story?" Jeff asked.
Ned's answer was blunt. "Yes! We didn't know about the falling out you'd had with Gordon."
There was a slight moan from Grandma, and the rest of the family looked at each other in various states of confusion.
Jeff didn't bat an eyelid. "My relationship with my sons is none of your business, nor is it the business of anyone outside of this family."
"So you are not prepared to discuss what happened?"
"No."
"Okay." Ned shrugged and sat down again. He looked back up at Jeff with a sardonic grin on his face. "So now what are you going to do? Somehow I don't think that Jeff Tracy, the great philanthropist, is likely to send us out into that cyclone...?"
To be continued…