Sorry this is two days late. Not only would fanfiction. net not send alerts, not only was it NOT sending reviews to my email address (most distressing to start uploading a new story and then think that no one likes it), but this site hasn't let me log on for 48 hours, instead of the three it said it was going to be out of action. Don't worry, I have completed 'Cook's Tour' (apart from a little proof reading) and intend to post a chapter each day, fanfiction. net and circumstances permitting.

:-)

Purupuss


Four: Day One – Something Fishy

Gordon and Scott were in their communal living area playing a listless game of chess.

"I still can't believe that Grandma lied," Scott commented as he moved his knight.

Gordon chuckled. "I would have loved to have seen Virgil and Alan's faces when they heard I'd been 'disowned'."

"It's not funny, Gordon."

"Yes it is. Can you imagine Dad getting that wild with any of us that he'd cut us adrift?"

"It's not right!" Scott protested. "Grandma lied to that creep. She's never lied in her life! She's drummed into us that honesty is always the best policy, and here she is having to tell a lie…! For us!"

"It must have been a good one if Cook believed her."

"It's not right," Scott growled. "You should know that, Gordon."

"I never said it was." Then Gordon chuckled again. "I do appreciate you going out to look for me. That's real brotherly love. Searching high and low… Going against our father's wishes…"

"This is not funny!"

"Now, that's where I disagree with you. It's a very funny way you're playing this game. You can't move a rook in that direction!"

"What?" Scott looked at the board. "Oh." He replaced the rook and shifted his bishop.

Gordon took one of Scott's pawns. "I think there's a lot of humour to found in this situation," he continued on. "I think it's funny that Virgil was so careful in scanning that part, only for Alan to find the original in the plane. That's priceless."

"That's not funny," Scott reiterated. "It's serious."

"Scott! If I don't find some humour in all this, I'm going to go crazy knowing that it's because of me everything we've worked for has been jeopardised. Now lighten up and make your move."

"It's not right," Scott mumbled under his breath, ignoring the game board.

"I agree it's not right. Now concentrate on the game!"

"But it's not! Just like it's not right that we're stuck down here, while…"

"Are you going to make a move or not?" Gordon interrupted.

"Yeah, okay…" Muttering something about nosey, selfish reporters not leaving honest folks alone, Scott made his move. "The sooner those two leave Tracy Isla…"

"What did you say?"

Scott looked at Gordon. All the joviality had drained out of his brother's face; in fact he was looking pale. "Are you all right?"

"Tracii!"

"What?"

"Tracey!"

"Who? Us?"

"No. Not us. With an E."

"Who?"

"I forgot her!"

"Who's Tracey, Gordon?" Scott watched in concern as his chess partner jumped out of his chair and raced into his sleeping quarters. "Gordon? Who's Tracey?" he asked as he followed.

"She's pregnant… I promised I'd be with her when the babies were due… How could I have forgotten…?" Gordon was standing in the middle of his room looking extremely flustered.

"So? Who is she and what's that got to do with you?"

"It's got a lot to do with me!" Gordon pounded his forehead with the flat of his hand. "Think, Gordon, think," he muttered. "What do you need?"

"Why isn't the father looking out for her?"

"He'd probably eat the babies."

"Gordon, calm down, there's no way you can go to her now, not while we're in the middle of a cyclone."

"But I promised her, Scott."

"Very noble I'm sure, but she'll have to get along without you. I don't know why you're so uptight about this…"

"I'm the one who got her pregnant!"

Usually cool, in control and unflappable, for once in his life Scott Tracy was dumbstruck.

"Water," Gordon was muttering. "I'll need clean water. What else? I've had no experience with this!"

'You and me both,' Scott thought. "Gordon?" he waited for a response, but none seemed to be forthcoming. "Gordon!"

Gordon looked at him as if he'd just woken from a dream. "What?"

"You did what?"

"I did what, when?"

"Gordon!" Scott grabbed him by the shoulders. "Calm down. Take a deep breath." He made sure his brother had obeyed the instruction and then steered him to the edge of the bed where he forced him to sit down. "Think about it. We're in the middle of a cyclone. There's no way you can get to this girl."

"Scott?"

"Where is she, anyway?" Scott maintained a tight grip of Gordon's shoulders.

"Who?"

"Tracey."

"In my room. I told her she could have her babies in there?"

"Your room…?" Scott was beginning to think that he was losing all links with sanity. "Babies? How many is she expecting?"

"I don't know. It could be anything between one and a couple of hundred, but I'm picking no more than five."

Scott shook his head to try and clear it. "Gordon," he said patiently. "Let's start again. What is Tracey?"

"A Plectroglyphididodon Tracii."

"Gordon," Scott said again. "I'm a simple flyboy with his head in the clouds. Bringing it down to the most basic, easy to understand, monosyllabic word you can think of, what is a Plectfidwhatever Tracii?"

Gordon looked at him as if he were stupid. "A fish."

Scott released his grip. "You're getting uptight over a fish?"

"Not just any fish! A Plectroglyphidido…"

"…Tracii. I know. What's so special about a Plec… Tracey?"

"It's a species of fish that is indigenous to the waters around Tracy Island. They're unique! I'm pretty sure that they are one of the few species of fish that don't lay eggs. Instead the mother gestates them inside her, and then gives birth to live young. I know we do all we can to minimise environmental damage, but I'm worried that if something went haywire we could wipe out the entire species! I've been trying for months to breed them and I think I've finally succeeded!"

"Congratulations. Now why do you have to risk Cook and Co seeing you just to take care of a goldfish?"

"They're not gold. They're grey."

"What are you planning to do? Hold its fin? Tell it how to breathe?"

"Don't be silly, Scott. I've got to put her into her breeding tank."

"Why?"

"Because I'm worried that the adult Plectroglyphididodon Tracii," (Scott had to admire the way the words tripped easily off his brother's tongue), "will eat the young."

"Why would they do that?"

"Space. There's plenty of room for the group that's already in there, but add a few more bodies and things could get a bit crowded."

"What would you have done if we were out on a rescue?" Scott asked.

"Accepted it as a part of being International Rescue. But we're not on a rescue! I'm only a few metres away!"

"And it may as well be the other side of the world," Scott growled. "You're not leaving here. Why not get Virgil or Alan to shift her?"

"Alan! He'd probably try to feed them to that alligator of his."

"Virgil wouldn't."

"I know. But he won't know which one she is. They all look alike to the untrained eye. I'd be happier doing this myself."

"Well, you're not going out there! You'll just have to hope that she hangs on to them until the cyclone's blown over and Cook's gone!"

"Don't be mean! How would you feel if you were a fish and you were pregnant?"

"I don't think either situation is likely to happen."

"Please, Scott," Gordon fixed his big brother with his most beseeching expression; one that had gained him many treats and punishment reprieves over the years.

"Don't think that face is going to soften me up now. You're too old…"

"You know I can do this without even Dad and Grandma knowing I went up there."

Scott wavered. "Are you sure?"

Gordon nodded. "Don't worry. I know every nook and cranny in this place. Cook doesn't. If I can sneak round without you guys seeing me, I sure as heck can hide from him."

"The worrying thing about that statement is that I have no doubt that it's true. But you're not talking about playing one of your practical jokes. The safety of the family… Heck we're not only talking about the family, we're talking the safety of the world…"

"Don't exaggerate, Scott."

"I'm not! You know what could happen if our equipment…"

"…Fell into the wrong hands. I know, I know. I helped write the manual. But the Plectroglyphididodon Tracii's whole world is this one little bit of ocean. If we do something wrong, even International Rescue won't be able to save them. Unless I can get a breeding population established elsewhere. Please, Scott…"

Scott shook his head in bemusement. "I hate to think what you'd be like if it was your kid about to be born. What were you like when you spent that year under water?"

Gordon gave a sheepish grin. "They called me 'The Gord-father' because I took a personal interest in every species we bred… Once we were treated to seeing some coral spawning… Have you ever seen that!" his eyes were shining.

"Nope."

"Boy, you've missed something! Anyway, one of the project's big-wigs was visiting us that day. I had to choose between doing my job and showing him around, or watching one of the marvels of the universe…"

"And?" Scott asked, already knowing the answer.

"And… The coral won."

"And you lost?"

Gordon shrugged. "Hey, it was only one month's pay and it wasn't as though there was anywhere I could go to spend it."

"You're a character, Gordon." Scott sighed. "Okay, you win…" He sat on the other bed and looked at his watch. "We're going to need help with this."

Alan and Virgil had been given the unenviable task of keeping the island's two guests occupied and out of everyone else's hair. They'd decided that their best plan of attack was to shut the pair of them up in the theatre and let them have the run of the family's movie collection.

Virgil was in the process of explaining the computer's selection system when both his, and Alan's, watches started beeping.

"Is that the time?" Virgil tried to keep his voice natural. "I promised Brains I'd give him a hand with… some stuff. But that can wait ten minutes. Do you want to go and do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing, Alan?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Virg. I, uh, promised Kyrano I'd give him a hand in his greenhouse, and he doesn't like to be kept waiting. Something to do with the angle of the moon and the plants I think."

"Well you'd better go… We'll see you later," Virgil said awkwardly, "since he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Okay. See you guys later."

"It seems like even on a tropical paradise you're tied down to the tyranny of time," Ned said, sounding cheerful at the thought that he didn't have to be anywhere at this moment.

"Yes… I guess we are," Alan replied.

"You'd better go, Alan," Virgil said.

Alan escaped the theatre and ran down the hallway until he thought he was out of earshot. "What can I do for you, Scott?"

"Were both you and Virgil with Cook and Whatsisname?"

"Joe? Yeah. I don't think he's got a surname. Everyone seems to call him Joe."

"Never mind that, Alan. Where are they now?"

Alan looked up as Virgil joined him. "In the theatre."

Virgil nodded his agreement. "I left them watching a three hour movie."

"Good. That'll keep them occupied."

"Why?"

"Gordon's got a… Gordon's got something important he's got to do in his room. Don't ask what, you won't believe me. I can't believe I'm even agreeing to help him."

"I really appreciate this, Scott," they heard Gordon's voice in the background.

"Gordon, for a time there I thought you were about to be disowned for real. I almost wish you would be!"

Ned and Joe had watched the movie for ten minutes before Ned spoke. "You know. This'd be even better if we had some company."

"Who'd you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of inviting young Tin-Tin."

Joe chuckled. "You're a dirty old man, Ned."

Ned winked. "I'll admit that she's excellent eye-candy, but I was interested in more than her body. She knows what's going on in this household, and knows what Tracy's projects are. I think if we can get her to relax she'll start talking. And then we'll really get to know Jeff Tracy."

"Okay, go get the oriental miss. Do you want me to pause the movie?"

"Nah. I've seen this bit before. The real action doesn't happen until the second half. We should be back by then."

"You don't want me to make myself scarce?"

"I have a feeling that Tin-Tin will feel more relaxed if she doesn't think I'm going to try and make a move on her."

"Do you think anyone has ever tried to make a move on her? Do you think anyone's succeeded?"

"You mean in this household of five eligible young bachelors and one extremely good looking, 'subservient to her masters', young Asian lady? Who knows, Joe? This is an extremely strange set-up. Anything is possible." Ned patted his friend on the shoulder as he walked past. "We'll be back soon. Don't eat all the popcorn."

"Is it all clear, Brains?" Gordon asked as he cautiously pocked his head into the lab.

"A-A-All clear, Gordon. So you think you're finally getting somewhere with your P- Plectroglyphididodon population?"

"Yep. I was planning to shift her over yesterday, but with everything that happened I forgot. Would you mind if I grabbed some of your spare stuff? I can't remember what I've left in my room, and I don't want to be out in the open for any longer than necessary."

Brains was willing to agree to the request. "O-Of course. Help yourself."

"Thanks." Gordon started gathering together a collection of implements. "I'll leave what I don't use by the tank. If you need it you can nip in and get it."

"F-Fine. Do you want me to check the way's c-clear?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

Brains chuckled. "Just call me s-secret agent 'Double O 73939133'."

"Huh? Why that number?" Gordon felt the urge to scratch his head, but was unable to because his hands were full.

"It's my f-favourite. It's the largest prime number in which a-all the initial segments of the decimal expansion are also p-prime numbers."

"Meaning?"

"S-Seven is a prime number. 73 is a prime number. 739 is a p-prime number and so on." Brains walked to the door and opened cautiously. When he was sure that no one was lurking about just outside the lab, he ventured further into the hallway. "All clear, Gordon."

"Thanks." Clutching his booty, and taking advantage of every bit of cover he knew of, Gordon raced to his bedroom. Once inside he slid the door shut behind him and 'dropped' the lab gear onto his bed. Then he opened out a panel in the window seat that sat in the corner of his room.

At last he felt safe.

When Jeff Tracy was in the process of designing the plans for his Villa he'd ensured that every member of the household had a private space of identical dimensions. It was then left to each individual to divide and decorate his, or her, own space as they saw fit.

Gordon had left his private quarters as a large open plan environment. Along one neat and tidy wall was a myriad of aquariums filled with an amazing variety of different species of fish. Against the opposite wall was his bed. The rest of the room was filled with what his brothers tended to call rubbish.

When designing his room, Gordon had made one significant difference to the original layout. He'd built a padded window-seat so that he could sit and look out over the Pacific's waters. If at anytime he couldn't be in the pool or ocean, then this was the place he'd come to find peace. The padded seat on top was hinged, thereby allowing access to a storage trunk underneath. A few of Gordon's belongings, including a plate that he'd forgotten to take back to the kitchen, had been thrown carelessly into the compartment.

Being the practical joker in a family with four brothers (who didn't always appreciate the joke), meant that it was sometimes necessary to have a foolproof hiding place. At the time that the house was being wired up, Gordon had asked if the wires from his automatic sliding door could be extended to the general vicinity of the window. His excuse was that from his vantage-point overlooking the waters, he could control whether or not he was disturbed. Everyone doubted his excuse, but in time everyone forgot about those mystery wires and Gordon was able to realise his grand plan.

Gordon's plan, and to date it had worked well, was to have a secret compartment in the window seat. Hidden beneath a false bottom in the storage trunk, there was enough room for him to curl up in relative comfort. When the front panel of the seat was open (it swung downwards to ensure easy access) the main door to the room was locked shut. When the secret panel was fully shut the door locking mechanism opened and a (usually angry) brother would storm in, only to find the room devoid of Gordon.

A viewing slot in the side panel, camouflaged with material, allowed Gordon to watch in amused safety as the furious brother would conduct a futile search of the room. This was low-tech design in a high-tech household and it worked perfectly.

Gordon's hideaway had been installed as a laugh. Now it potentially had a more serious purpose.

"Hello, Darling," he cooed to the Plectroglyphididodon Tracii that was partially concealed in the marine plants that made up her home. "So you haven't had your babies yet?"

'Tracey' eyed him up and slid further backwards into the leafy protection.

"Let's get your limousine ready shall we?" he asked as he placed a plastic bag in a large open mouthed beaker. Then, after pulling the bag's opening over the lip of the container so that the bag would remain open without collapsing, he partially filled it with water. As he allowed the water to reach room temperature, he took the time to inspect and feed his other charges.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said soothingly as he gently coaxed 'Tracey' into a small jar. "Just relax, Honey, and I'll pop you in here." He placed her, still in the jar, into the water-filled plastic bag. "Now we'll leave you there for a minute until the water temperature's equalised. Okay?"

'Tracey' turned her back on him.

"What else are we going to need?" Gordon busied himself for the next couple of minutes, gathering various bits and pieces such as food and an oxygen pump. "Okay, I think that's everything," he said to himself as he did a mental inventory. He tested the water. "Nope, not quite ready."

'Tracey' swam sedately in circles inside her jar.

Something shiny caught Gordon's eye. He still got the same sense of exhilaration and disbelief every time he looked at the gold medal mounted proudly on the wall. Smiling to himself, he gave it a quick polish with his sleeve before turning back to the Plectroglyphididodon Tracii. "Come on, Honey. Out you pop." He slowly tipped the jar over on its side and 'Tracey' swam out. Then he removed the dripping wet jar and placed it on the table…

Ned Cook wasn't having much luck finding Tin-Tin. He supposed that she could be in the lab, or else holed up in her room, both of which presented problems. He didn't know where the lab was and didn't know which room was hers. To cap it all he suddenly realised that he was lost in the rabbit warren that made up the Tracy Villa. After following several passageways he stumbled across one that appeared to connect the family's sleeping quarters. Figuring he must be close to Tin-Tin he wandered along, examining the doors and trying to find something that would indicate that which was her room. Each door, he realised, had a muted identifying pattern inlaid into the wood. A rocket, some stars, a plane, a car, some musical notes, a fish…

A fish?

He examined the door with the marine motif more closely, before looking about to see if anyone was watching him…

A rattle at his door placed Gordon at high alert. Leaving 'Tracey' exposed in her open topped bag he dove into his hiding place and pulled the panel shut.

Another rattle at the door and it slid open to reveal Ned Cook. The reporter peered cautiously inside, took a step into the room and then re-locked the door behind him. "Right, Gordon," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's see what you've got."

Gordon watched in mounting anger as his private things were rummaged through.

Ned was methodical. He started with Gordon's drawers. "Some things gone, but not a lot," he mused out loud. "You left in a hurry, all right." Then he turned his attention to the bed and picked up a few of the items that Gordon had borrowed from Brains. "I wonder what these are used for."

'Mind your own business,' Gordon thought.

Ned worked his way through the room, turning over any little scrap that he though might give him the juicy bit of information that he required. He came to the window seat. "Nice view… If you could see through the rain… I wonder…"

Gordon held his breath as heard the lid above him open and the interloper push a few things about. "You're a slob, Gordon Tracy." The lid was dropped shut.

"And you're a nosy... Hey! Get your hands off that!"

Ned had Gordon's medal in his hands. He stared at it and turned it over to read the inscription on the back. "Why'd you leave this, Gordon? Surely this is the symbol of what you've achieved…? And what your father despised about you."

Gordon bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling at the man.

Ned let the medal drop back against the wall with a clunk and then turned back to take in the surroundings. "It's obvious what the marine world means to you, Gordon. Jeff Tracy has a stronger character than I gave him credit for if he managed to hide away his disappointment in you away for all these years." He picked up a yellow plastic fish that was residing on a small shelf above the medal and examined it. "Looks like you came out of a cereal packet. I wonder what your significance is?" He replaced it and looked about the room again.

Gordon almost relaxed as he watched Cook turn on his heel and head towards the exit.

Ned stopped and turned back to the aquariums. He admired each one's occupants briefly before stopping by the table where Gordon had been transferring 'Tracey'. He picked up the jar she'd been temporarily swimming in. "Someone's been here recently." He looked around as if searching for that mystery person, his eyes resting for what seemed to be an unnatural length of time on Gordon's hiding place.

Yet again Gordon held his breath.

Ned turned back to the table. "Nice fishy," he said as he bent over 'Tracey' and used his finger to splash the water in her bag.

Gordon found himself wishing that 'Tracey' was a piranha and not just a Plectroglyphididodon Tracii. He watched as Ned, after making sure that all was clear, finally left his room. He then gave the reporter a full minute to get clear, before he undid the bolt and unfurled himself from inside his window seat. He stretched to get the kinks out and then hurried over to 'Tracey'. "Are you okay, Honey? Did that nasty man give you a fright…? He gave me one," he added as he switched on his wristwatch communicator.

Alan heard the familiar sound and responded with a smile. "All done, Gordon?"

"Almost. No thanks to you!"

"Huh?" confused by his brother's angry expression and tone, Alan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Ned Cook's just been nosing around my room."

"What!"

"I'm almost ready to leave. How about checking it's safe this time?"

"But… but it was last time," Alan stuttered. "I thought…"

"Well you thought wrong!"

"Did he see you?"

"Of course not. Now go make sure he still doesn't see me. Beep me when it's safe."

"Okay." Bemused Alan signed off. He'd taken two steps when he bumped into Virgil, who was carrying his painting gear. "I thought you said Cook was happily watching the movie."

"He was."

"Gor… Leroy…" Alan switched to Gordon's alias. One they would use whenever they were on a rescue with a possibility of being recognised. "…Says Cook's just been searching his room."

Virgil's mouth dropped open. "Did Cook see…?

"Apparently not. But he's ready to head back again. Let's make sure he's not intercepted."

As he cooled his heels, Gordon took his Olympic gold medal off the wall and inspected it for damage. Then, using the cloth reserved exclusively for this purpose, he gave it a polish. "That's better," he said as he hung it back up. He gave the plastic fish a brief pat.
Joe looked away from the giant screen when Ned entered the theatre. "You've almost missed the good bit. Where's Tin-Tin?"

"I couldn't find her. This place is a maze!" Ned slipped into the seat beside Joe. "I'll tell you what I did find though…"

Joe paused the movie. "Well? Don't keep me in suspense."

"Gordon's room."

"You searched it, of course?"

"Of course." Ned produced his recording device. "I've made a few notes. I'd say he left in a mighty hurry…" He popped some popcorn into his mouth. "He left his Olympic medal behind."

"He did what? He must have been in a rage to forget that!"

"That's what I think." Ned munched reflectively. "It's a strange room. It's a total mess except for this one wall which is covered in aquariums. Each of them is spotless. Someone's been keeping an eye on things too."

"The fish have all been fed?"

"Not only that, but one of them had recently been transferred. It was still in a plastic bag and the jar that'd been used was wet. I wonder who it is that's prepared to go against Jeff Tracy's wishes." Ned gave a shudder. "You want to know something creepy? I could almost believe that whoever was caring for Gordon's fish was still in that room. I could almost sense them watching me..."

"It was probably all the fish giving you the once over," Joe suggested.

"Mmn, maybe… Like I said, it's a strange room."

"Was there anywhere anyone could have hidden?"

Ned shook his head. "No."

"Security camera?"

Ned frowned. "Now that's a possibility I hadn't thought of. But in a bedroom?"

"Maybe Tracy likes to keep a 'paternal' eye on his sons?"

"Maybe."

"Find anything else of interest?"

The door slid open with a bang, heralding the slightly breathless arrival of Alan and Virgil. They looked at the two startled faces who were staring at them. "Uh, we were just checking up on you…" Alan said. "…Uh… To see that you were all right! Do you need anything? More popcorn?"

"Chocolate bar?" Virgil suggested.

"A drink?"

"Another movie?"

"No," Joe said. "We haven't finished this one yet."

"Ah," Virgil said. "Good… " Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alan press a button on his watch.

"Where are you up to?" Alan asked.

"The island's just been invaded," Joe offered. "The people who are hiding are about to be discovered."

"This is a good bit," Virgil said. "I think I'll stay for this bit. Do you want to stay for… uh… this bit, Alan?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "I think I might stay for this… bit." He cringed.

"I'd like to get my hands on him! I'd give him slob! I'd give him despised!"

"Huh?" Scott, who'd spent the entire time fretting over what Gordon was doing, took a moment to look at 'Tracey', before giving his, obviously angry, brother his full attention. "What are you going on about?"

"Cook!"

"What about him?"

"He was in my room!"

"What! When!"

"Now! While I was in there!"

"Gordon! Did he see you?"

"No, of course not!" Gordon paced the length of the room. "The creep had the cheek to call me a slob!" He reversed his course.

Scott decided that now was not the time to say 'if the cap fits…'

"He made some comment about Dad despising me!"

"Calm down, Gordon. You know that's not true. Who was he talking to?"

"No one! Himself!"

Scott's worry meter went up a notch. "Are you sure he didn't know you were there?"

"I'm telling he didn't! No one ever finds me in my… room!"

"True," Scott agreed.

"He was talking to himself. Giving a kind of running commentary."

"Running commentary? Do you think he had a recorder with him?"

"I don't know. What I do know is; he put his greasy mitts all over my medal!"

"Ah." Everyone in the household knew that, except when explicit permission was given, Gordon's Olympic gold was off limits. Scott knew that Ned Cook handling Gordon's most prized possession would not have gone down well with his brother.

"And you two were no use!" Gordon stormed, pointing a finger at Virgil and Alan who'd abandoned the theatre again. "I thought you said he was watching a movie!"

"He was," Virgil said. "He and Joe seemed to be quite settled."

"I thought so," Alan agreed. "What happened, Gordon?"

Marginally calmer, Gordon recounted the events of a few moments ago.

"You went up there for a fish?" Alan asked.

"You're surprised?" Virgil responded. "What did you want us to do, Gordon? Tie Ned and Joe up?"

"It'd have been a start!"

"You risked exposure for a fish!" Alan repeated, still trying to get his head around the fact. "Dad's going to go crazy when he finds out!"

"He's not going to find out, Alan," Scott said. "Look, I know we've all had a bit of a scare, but it's okay. Neither Cook nor anyone else saw Gordon, so our secret's still safe, and neither of us will have to go up there again until they've gone. That's all that matters. Now, Gordon, don't you want to put 'Tracey' into something a bit more substantial than a plastic bag?"

"Tracey?" Virgil asked.

"The fish."

Virgil shook his head in wonderment.

"She's pregnant," Scott offered.

"Ah," Alan said. "Now it all makes sense."

"It does?" Virgil asked.

"No, but then nothing else does either."

Gordon cursed.

"Language," Scott reprimanded.

"I left all the gear in my room. I was in such a bad mood I didn't think of taking it."

"Do you want us to…?" Virgil began.

"No!" Gordon snapped. "I'll get Brains to. At least he's careful!"

Brains, as requested, had gone into Gordon's room to retrieve the missing items. He took a moment to fire up Gordon's computer and found himself engrossed in the notes Gordon had made on the Plectroglyphididodon population. "I-Interesting… Very interesting… G-Good work, Gordon," he said in approval, before switching the computer off again. Then, after gathering the necessary paraphernalia into his arms, he walked out the door... straight into Ned Cook and Joe.

Brains blinked at the two men. "Hello?"

"Hello… ah… 'Brains'?" Ned said.

"I-I'm sorry," Brains looked between the two men. "I-I don't think we've been introduced."

"We met yesterday," Joe told him. "We had dinner together last night."

Brains frowned in bemusement. "Just the three of us?"

"No. The Tracys were there too. I'm Ned and this is Joe. Remember?" Ned said.

"Ohhh," Brains appeared to understand. "Wh-Where did we go?"

"Nowhere. There's a cyclone howling outside at the moment. Joe and I came here to interview Gordon and we've been trapped by Cyclone Sylvia."

"Ah," Brains nodded. "Did you and G-Gordon have a good i-interview?"

"No. He's not here. He's left home," Joe tried to be patient.

"G-Gordon's left home? Oh dear! Does M-Mr Tracy know?"

"I think he's got a pretty good idea," Ned admitted.

"Then why are you st-st-still here?"

"Because we can't leave because of Cyclone Sylvia," Ned was starting to lose patience.

"Cyclone! Dear me! No one mentioned a cyclone! We'd better st-stop Gordon before he goes out into the cyclone!"

"He's gone, Brains. Apparently he left days ago!"

"Who's g-gone?"

"Gordon."

"Gordon's g-gone? Where?"

"Look," Ned's patience had finally run out. "Why don't you ask one of the Tracys all about it? I'm sure they'll be able to explain it to you better than we can."

Brains beamed at him. "Wh-What a wonderful idea! I'll go ask them now, sh-shall I? And then maybe the three of us c-can go out to dinner."

"Yeah. Maybe we'll do that. C'mon, Joe. Let's go see where everyone's hiding."

"Give my b-best to Sylvia!" Brains called after them.

He was still chuckling when he handed over the aquarium equipment to Gordon.

"What are you laughing about?" Alan asked him.

Brains gave the four Tracy boys a rundown of his conversation with Ned and Joe. "Y-You know? Sometimes there's a-advantages to looking like the archetypical absentminded professor…"

To be continued…