Jeff carefully closed his office door and made sure it was locked. Not that anyone would just barge in, his boys knew better and Kyrano wouldn't dream of it. Jeff paused for a moment. His boys used to know better, but hadn't Scott done just that only a few months ago? Something else changed just by the presence of Jasmine. The idea that the thought wasn't fair briefly crossed his mind but he put it and all its counter arguments aside. Thought like that were the reason he'd gone against everything a younger him had promised himself and asked John to get him restricted files. He needed to know.

The file booted easily and Jeff clicked it open.

F:01

Infiltration successful.

Compound is larger than anticipated with four basement levels each spreading out further than the footprint of the warehouse above.

Equipment in medical facility is state of the art, but all close networked. Extensive medical files are available for each of the 43 subjects. Most under fifteen years of age. Files do not contain personal information, only a subject number. Will attempt to ascertain how many successful conversions have been made.

F:02

I can confirm there have been 3 (three) successful conversions in this facility. Two male, one female. The number of unsuccessful is simply staggering. I cannot, in good conscience, continue to stand by and watch murder on such a scale. I recommend this facility is closed immediately.

Jeff skipped forward. As much as he wanted to know more about the facility the full descriptions attached to file F:02 ran to forty-eight pages and seemed to be largely building schematics and the like. Dr. Leonard was more than just a surgeon, that much was certain.

As Jeff skipped through the files they became less and less formal. It seemed to Jeff that, somehow, the GDF had forced Dr Leonard to stay in his role, and the doctor's resentment shone through in his writing.

F:32

Another sales day successfully completed. Injuries sustained include 97 stitches spread across seven victims, four broken collar bones, multiple contusions and more strains, sprains and lacerations than I care to count. The biomechanoids sustained 5 stitches to the younger male, he will be fully healed within the next 48 hours. The older male is brutal. He cannot be allowed to leave the facility under any circumstances. The female is simply efficient.

That gave Jeff pause. Efficient how? Under what circumstances? How did Dr Leonard define efficiency? She was getting the job done, clearly, but what exactly was the job? How many of the listed injuries had she caused in the name of selling the biomechanoid product? Jeff found his mouth was dry as he read on.

Reports over the next few weeks concentrated on the 'older male' and eventually his name was revealed as Roman. Mentions of 'the female' were sparse and tersely worded. Jeff ran a search using some select key words and discovered that there was very little about her at all. Dr Leonard had considered her as little more than the finished product.

F:746

My cover has been compromised. I am setting a dead lock which will send all files to the GDF main office if I do not reset it in 24 hours. I hope to see one more Moonrise.

That was the final file.

Jeff pondered the final sentence. It was completely incongruous to every other report. The Doctor was highly opinionated, that much was clear, but he wasn't given to whimsy.

Another though struck him suddenly. Jasmine said she had worked as a nurse for Dr Leonard for more than a year following a serious injury, yet there was no mention of it anywhere in these reports.

Had she lied?

Her medical knowledge suggested she had spent a decent amount of time studying medicine.

Jeff pondered the question in silence, idly noting that Virgil had closed the hangers and was heading back to the main villa. His eyes flicked to a readout on his left. Thunderbird Three remained docked to Thunderbird Five. The job of resupplying the station was bound to take longer this time as John had used his entire supply and much of the emergency supply as well. However, he had no doubt that Scott would rally his brothers, get John situated and then get himself and Alan home with best efficiency.

Brothers.

Jasmine had unwillingly spoken about her brother. Was he in this file as well?

Jeff had to go through Virgil's reports before he found the boy's name. He put 'Warren' into the keyword search and came up with only one entry.

MH019 aka Warren.

He put the designation through the same filter. There were seven instances of MH019 being mentioned, each of them were physical reports. Jeff blanched at the detail in them. If any of his sons had been treated in such a manor… Something caught his eye and he reread the last line.

We administered a broad-spectrum antibiotic.

We.

Who was we? It was the only plural Jeff had found in reference to medical procedures.

Dr Leonard didn't seem given to causal mistakes.

I hope to see one more Moonrise.

We administered…

He looked at the details for the file itself, convinced he was missing something. Sure enough the file size was far too large for the number of reports it contained. Jeff felt the rush he always got just before a major breakthrough. He'd had it when he'd been chosen for the mars mission, when Brains had come up with his first workable design for Thunderbird One. He'd even had it each and every time Lucile had told him she was pregnant. He was on the verge of something important.

He reopened the file and began scanning through it. He ignored the words, they weren't important, what he was looking for now was so much more subtle. In file 222 he found it. A subtle shift in syntax that moved a paragraph a few spaces out of line. He clicked in the small void as was rewarded with a pop-up asking for a password.

Jeff smiled, his eyes ablaze with the hunt. If anyone would have pints out that he was working with the same fever and expression as his second born he would not have appreciated it, it the similarities were there.

Jeff stared at the cursor and typed one word.

Moonrise.

Halfway across the planet the afternoon was drawing on. Outside the O'Leary building Storm Hugo was reaching out it's feelers for landfall. The skies had already darkened to a false twilight and the gusty wind cleared litter and sand alike from the shores and roads of the coastal town. Everyone who didn't have to be out had gone home and closed their doors, ready to brace for the onslaught to come.

Over the bridge that was the main route to the industrial estate a small convoy of cars crossed, their drivers flicking on the windscreen wipers as the first few drops of rain fell from the darkening skies. As one the cars turned from the main road and drove into the abandoned building next to the fated office. There they cut their lights and engines and extruded a number of mercenaries, each dressed in GDF uniform.

Under the strong desk in the foyer of the O'Leary building Kayo shook off the last of the sedative she'd self-administered. A quick glance around showed she'd been placed right up in the corner. Next to her Nick remained unconscious. Pulling herself up she scrabbled for his injured hand only to find it tightly strapped. She sat back, considering her options. She couldn't leave now; she might be seen and there was a sniper out there. She also didn't think she'd be able to move Nick, but she could hardly leave him, so she would just have to manage. It was darker than she was expecting and colder too and she was instantly grateful for the oversized jacket someone had stuffed her into.

Kayo's eyes widened at the thought and she immediately checked her pockets. A couple of chocolate bars, a small bottle of water, clean gauze and the bracelet tracker were all found on her right-hand side. On her left was a wickedly sharp knife and yes! Kayo silently cheered; she had a Comms unit. She daren't use it yet though. Outside the wind began to hurl rain at the great glass windows on the front of the building. Kayo ignored it and began trying to wake Nick.

Two levels under the doomed building Steven was humming. He wasn't aware of the tuneless noise he made, his mind far too busy planning what he would do once Jasmine delivered his latest prize to him - for she would, he had no doubt about that.

"I want him here" Steven turned to the girl, indicating a set of shackles that had been welded to the floor. She raised an eyebrow.

"We spent all that time dragging the damn steel table down here and now you're gonna have him stand anyway?"

"I can see it now" Steven said, mostly to himself. "His height and stature becoming useless to him, being forced upright by the chains, will help break him faster."

Jasmine shrugged. It was what Steven liked most about her; she didn't bat an eye when he spoke of his various methods. She said she didn't want to watch but Steven knew she secretly did. Perhaps not with this one but certainly by the next job she'd be handing him instruments, instinctively knowing what he'd want next. Just like now - he watched appreciably as she released the long chains strung from the ceiling and tested the manacles. Oh yes, she knew exactly what Steven wanted to do.

A loud crash echoed from above them.

"What was that?" Jasmine asked, clearly confused but not at all worried.

"Probably the mercs breaking through into the upper basement" Steven said, returning to his tool bench. He didn't see the momentary panic that flittered behind Jasmine's eyes as she put the final piece of the puzzle in place. Salvatore wasn't expecting Virgil to arrive solo and, whether it was other International Rescue members or the GDF themselves that flew in, he was prepared.

"I'm gonna go say hi to the boys" she said. "Make sure they know my face and to get the hell out of my way."

"Play nicely now" Steven said over his shoulder.

"Where's the fun in that?" she replied, making her way unhurriedly to the door. Once in the stairwell she checked her comm. No signal, as expected. She was too far underground. She considered the internal line but if she was in range of the jammer that would end very badly.

She pushed through the door and was met by a sea of GDF personnel. It brought her to a halt; she hadn't seen that many GDF in one place since…

One of them noticed her and, as a ripple went round the room she forced herself onwards, looking for the commander. One of the men wolf-whistled as she walked past. She punched him in the throat without breaking stride. Rather than rush to their comrade's aid a few of them laughed and Oracle smiled, instantly feeling better. She knew this. These people and how to work them were written in her DNA as closely as the nanites.

"Bait girl" came a cheery greeting. "Salvatore warned me about you" the man said happily. He almost looked as though he'd lived his life in the service. Almost, but not quite. His blond had was a fraction too long, his top 2 shirt buttons were undone and his boots looked as though they might be allergic to polish. He did have a smile that would have some women swooning and describing him as 'devastatingly handsome.' While noted, the effect was lost on both Jasmine and Oracle alike. She'd seen handsome and it had dark hair, kind eyes and a warm smile.

"Merc' man" she replied in the same tone. "Are all your men twats or just this one?" She indicated the one bent double and hacking up a fit.

"Just that one" he replied dismissing his fallen comrade with the flick of a hand. "You here for the layout?"

"You know it" she replied moving next to him so she could see the holo projected from his comm. It wasn't what she'd come for but she already had that - a good look at the phony GDF - and intel was intel. She didn't react as the holo showed a maze of tunnels leading from the shore, under the building and away inland. Their position showed an ingress point made by the mercs - or possibly Monty - as well as a fully concealed tunnel leading to the basement below. Oracle kicked herself as she realised its entrance was on the one wall Stephen had insisted remained clear. Tunnels wound away from the O'Leary building and under the suspected landline site for the Thunderbird, though another 2 points had also been marked as possible IR staging areas.

"We'll have groups of four men at these junctions" Mr Happy said, indicating several areas. There was nothing special about them, they were well spaced and evenly placed. Gordon should be able to guess the locations if Oracle could get the info to IR. "Where are you bringing the vic'?"

"Most likely through here" she said indicating the regular stairwell. "I don't plan to make use of the smuggler tunnels."

"Just bat your eyelashes at him and he'll follow you into Stephens's lair, right?" He said, still absurdly happy. Oracle began a mental count.

"That's what I do" she said absently pretending to be engrossed in the projections.

When she reached 6 the man struck, his free hand aiming a strike at her solar plexus she couldn't entirely avoid. She was in too close for anything with force behind it so she aimed an elbow at his thorax. He avoided it easily and a short scuffle followed as each tried to find room to land something punishing.

All of a sudden Mr Happy stepped back showing both palms in an open call for a truce. Oracle stalled her punch and stepped back warily.

"I couldn't let it go" he said. "You assault one of my men then you have to be accountable and at this rate we'll be here all day."

Oracle frowned, they'd barely got started, but if that was how he wanted to play it she wasn't going to argue.

"Make sure your boys stay out of my way. As far as the target knows there's no reason for the GDF to be here, I'd like to keep it that way."

Mr Happy nodded and looked at her thoughtfully.

"We're going to have dinner" he said, flashing a smile and moving his head in a way that made him look every inch the dashing rogue. The effect bounced off Oracle and dissipated.

"No, we're not" she said turning to leave. If she'd seen the look that flashed across his handsome face, she'd have felt a thrill of satisfaction that she'd cracked the happy veneer. But she didn't. In fact, now she had a mental log of every face in the room and a mental map of the smugglers tunnels Oracle never thought about the man again.