CHAPTER FOUR
In a somewhat grotesque scene eerily reminiscent of real-life, six individuals had gathered in the Lounge of Tracy Villa. The room was dark, lit only by an evil red glow coming from six pairs of eyes. The faces looked like they belonged to the members of famed International Rescue...only they were much, much smaller in size.
"We have our orders," the one that looked like Jeff Tracy hissed. "I will remain in this room to discover its secrets. We shall address one another by their names, and must return to our resting places within two hours' time. When we have succeeded in this quest, the Master will grant us eternal life. Eternal life!"
The others nodded. Close looks at each face would indeed have shocked anyone who knew the Tracys, for although the marionettes' visages bore an uncanny resemblance to the men in question, the pure evil radiating from them did not.
Small Scott, whose voice mirrored the low hissing of Small Jeff, spoke next. "I am to locate Thunderbird 1 and relay all I see to the Master."
"And I shall locate Thunderbird 2," Small Virgil added.
"Thunderbird 3 is mine!" Small Alan grinned hideously.
"I will find Thunderbird 4 and ensure all her secrets are passed to the Master," Small Gordon said.
Small John looked toward the patio. "I am to seek out the location of this secret base. I shall begin outside."
"Then go!" Small Jeff ordered. They scattered to the winds, the only sound being the pitter-pattering of their miniature feet as they ran. Small Jeff grinned madly, rubbing his hands together. "I shall not fail you, Master. I shall not fail you!"
Gordon awoke slowly to find himself completely twisted up in his sheets. 'That's funny,' he thought. 'I don't usually toss and turn in my sleep.'
By the time he'd untangled himself, the delicious smells of breakfast had wafted through the house into his room, causing his stomach to grumble unceremoniously. He laughed as he headed for the shower.
He didn't notice that the little replica of himself wasn't quite in the same position as he'd left it the night before...
Scott had been awake, showered and dressed by 6am...actually, quite late for him. He stood at the stove stirring scrambled eggs in a large frying pan. His mind wandered back to last night, and an involuntary shiver ran up his spine as he recalled the moment when he'd been sure his marionette had moved.
Scott sighed as he scooped the eggs out onto a platter. He told himself he was being ridiculous and should just forget about it. He heard someone enter the kitchen behind him. A sleepy "Mornin', Scott," told him that someone was Virgil.
"Hey, sleepyhead. Hungry?"
Virgil plopped into a chair at the kitchen table. "Yeah, actually, I am. What'cha got?"
"Eggs, sausage, toast."
"Mmm, my favorite."
Scott grinned as he deposited a full plate of food onto the table in front of his brother. "I know. Coffee?"
"Sure, thanks."
Scott poured the coffee, then added milk and two teaspoons of sugar, stirring three times. When he and the steaming mug reached Virgil, half his plate was empty. "You've got some appetite!" he commented, placing the mug to Virgil's right.
"Mmm...s'good..." Virgil mumbled through a mouthful of food.
Scott went back to his cooking, and was startled a few minutes later when Virgil's voice came from directly behind him. He turned, frowning at the look on his face as his brother spoke.
"Say, Scott..."
"What?"
"I, uh, well, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but..."
Scott lay the large wooden spoon down on the counter and turned to fully face him. "What is it?"
Virgil's eyes shifted. Whatever he was about to say was making him very uncomfortable. "It's, uh, it's the puppet."
"The puppet? What about it?"
"Well, I...I don't think it was...oh, never mind!"
As Virgil whirled around to leave, Scott grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him in mid-step. "Tell me."
"No, you'll think I'm nuts."
"Too late."
Virgil made a face, and then decided he may as well say what he'd started out to. "All right. I distinctly remember putting that thing in the chair to the left of my bed. I even arranged it so it looked comfortable."
"Aw, Virg, you've developed a soft spot for your little buddy."
"I'll show you a soft spot, you pain in the-"
Scott held up his hands defensively, trying to hold in the laugh that wanted to escape. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. So you put it on the chair last night. So what?"
"Well, it wasn't there this morning."
"What? You mean it's missing?"
"No, no, nothing like that. When I woke up it was stretched out at the foot of my bed. It was just lying there with its eyes closed. It looked like it was sleeping."
"Virg, you're givin' me the creeps."
"I'm giving me the creeps!" he replied, running a hand through his unkempt hair.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was awake around two and could've sworn I saw my marionette move."
"You're kidding."
Scott shook his head. "But we both know puppets aren't alive, right?"
"Right."
"So there's got to be a logical explanation for what we both saw. I figure I was just tired and the shadows in my room were playing tricks on my eyes."
"And whaddya figure for me?"
Scott let his breath out slowly, racking his brain. "Well...you know, it was probably Gordo messin' around."
"Why would he be messin' around with my marionette?" Virgil asked, not buying it.
"I don't know. Why does he slide down the banisters at twenty-four years of age?"
Virgil thought for a moment before nodding. "You have a point."
"A point about what?" Jeff asked, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he wandered into the room.
"Oh, nothing, Father. Good morning."
"Morning, Virgil, Scott. Ah, coffee." Jeff approached the carafe and set about pouring himself a large mug...steaming, hot and black.
"Morning, Father. Want some eggs?"
"Virgil's favorite?"
"Yep."
"Why do I think that's the only thing you know how to cook?"
Virgil grinned as he exited the room. "Probably because it is."
Scott threw a hand towel at his brother's departing back as Jeff chuckled. "Sure, son, I'll have some."
Jeff seated himself at the table and waited until Scott brought over two full plates of food. He sat down across from Jeff and began scoffing away. He was almost done before he noticed that his father was just pushing the eggs around the plate with a fork.
"You okay, Dad?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, I was just wondering...were you at my desk last night?"
"At your desk?" Scott shook his head, frowning. "No. Why?"
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing."
"No, really, what?"
"I'm usually very organized."
"Yeah, I know you are. I am, too. The Air Force did it to us."
Jeff smiled faintly before continuing. "This morning when I went out there to grab my coffee mug, I noticed a few papers were scattered on top of the desk."
"You never leave papers out at night."
"I know. That's my point."
"Well, maybe one of the others was out there looking for something."
Jeff sighed, scooping a forkful of now-cold eggs into his mouth. When he'd finished chewing, he said, "You're probably right."
Scott leaned back in the chair, his mind beginning to work. First he thought he saw his marionette move. Then Virgil told him about how his puppet wasn't where he'd left it. And now, his father's papers... He came to his feet, deciding he needed to talk to Gordon.
Alan stretched himself awake, grimacing as rays of sunlight danced into his large blue eyes. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, intending to bury himself deep beneath his blankets and go right back to sleep.
But then he got a funny feeling...he didn't know exactly what it was, but it sent little prickles up his back and into his neck, making the baby hairs stand on end. He shot upright to his knees, looking wildly about his rooms, trying to figure out why it was he felt he was being watched.
As he scanned the area, he realized he didn't see his marionette anywhere. "That's odd," he said aloud. "I'm sure I put it on my dresser."
Climbing off the bed, Alan walked out into the Sitting Room. He looked around cautiously, wondering why he felt so odd. Seeing nothing out of place, he headed back into his bedroom and his heart almost stopped beating.
For there, sitting in the middle of the dresser, was none other than his marionette.
Belah was exhausted. He'd been awake for hours mentally processing everything his demons had transmitted to him telepathically. They had been unsuccessful in locating any of the Thunderbird craft, but he had found perhaps the most important piece of information of all from one of them, who had rifled through a desk full of papers. He'd found that the man in charge of International Rescue was none other than former astronaut Jeff Tracy.
His lips curled into an evil grin as that one piece of knowledge permeated his being. He rose from his chair and laughed, shaking his head. Even if his "children" didn't find anything more, knowing that Jeff Tracy was the leader...well, there were many, many ways in which Belah could use that to his advantage.
Many, many ways...
