Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter - as always it's much appreciated.
This is a slightly edited version of the chapter I first posted. No major changes, but I found a bit I'd meant to include (lots of random scenes scattered around my laptop for this story - did I mention it was complicated...?) so wanted to add it in.
Chapter Five
The first people to enter the Abbey were a group of stern-faced, soberly dressed men and women, presumably secret service operatives since they ignored the majority of the wedding guests, instead charging up the aisle towards the grandest seats, audibly cursing despite their surroundings when they realised that the worst really had happened and the most important people in the building had been spirited away whilst they had guarded the doors, oblivious to the fact that all the action was taking place inside.
If the rough way they slapped and shook their semi-conscious colleagues was anything to go by, they weren't too impressed by the way they'd allowed themselves to succumb to the gas. But then, the watchers on Tracy Island and up in Thunderbird Five reasoned, who would have expected such an attack in the first place? The Abbey would have been carefully checked out before the distinguished guests would have been allowed to enter, but once they were safely inside, all the focus would have been on the doors. No one would have expected the attack to come from within. They wondered what had happened to the guards who had been at the door the kidnappers had used. More gas? Something more sinister and more permanent? All sorts of ideas were racing around their heads, but without knowing whether or not this was all part of some plan on the part of Penny or whether it actually was something worse - though all their thoughts were inclining to the latter - all they could do was speculate.
Scott couldn't help wondering about the gas. Presumably there had been several canisters hidden around the Abbey, but when? Why hadn't they been detected? And most importantly, who had put them there? One of the security detail? Someone connected with the Abbey? Or someone else apparently above suspicion? Someone like Parker...
Uniformed officers were next on the scene. Alan had informed his brother and grandmother that if it hadn't been for him reporting the incident as International Rescue, using the excuse that his equipment had picked up a radio conversation between two of the kidnappers, the call would have been laughed off as an absurd hoax. Even with the weight of IR behind him, Alan told them, he had found it difficult to get anyone to take him seriously at first.
In fairness, everyone did look slightly stunned as they surveyed the scene. As the victims of the kidnappers were identified, those expressions only grew more astounded - as crimes went, this one was surely going to rival the Great Train Robbery and the sinister escapades of Jack the Ripper in terms of notoriety.
But the Tracys didn't care about any of that right now. They were more concerned about the guests, most of whom had reached varying stages of consciousness and mobility, but quite a few of whom either remained motionless or were clearly suffering the after-effects of whatever had knocked them out. One thing was certain: the Abbey cleaners were going to have a busy time of it. Thankfully the paramedics were finally being allowed in and they waited impatiently to find out what was going on with Jeff.
Virgil, after a few more wobbles, had been one of the first of the reviving guests to get to his feet and stay there, and was now hovering anxiously around his father. It was hard to pick out anything in the general hubbub, so most of their information came from Alan, who was monitoring the increasingly frantic radio transmissions between the various authorities. It seemed that on the whole it was the elderly and the very young who were suffering the worst of the after-effects. Grandma was terribly distressed to watch Penny's two tiny bridesmaids carried swiftly away to waiting ambulances - but a few of the others seemed to be in trouble too, Jeff Tracy apparently among them.
"Dad's lungs aren't as strong as they were - not since he was sick," Alan muttered.
"He'll be okay," Scott reassured him. "Virg is there, he'll make sure Dad gets the treatment he needs. We should be thankful, I guess. Imagine if those guys had taken him away with the others."
"About Penny..." Alan trailed off.
"Yeah." Scott said nothing more, instead asking his brother," Alan, any luck in tracking down Parker?"
"No. FAB One's still there. I guess he really did go off with those other guys."
"What should we do?" Grandma asked. "We have to find him. But Virgil doesn't seem up to chasing around London looking for him."
Indeed, Virgil, whilst in better shape than a lot of the guests, still looked a little shaky. Scott wished his brother would find a quiet corner and get back in touch, but he remained where he was, occasionally sipping from a bottle of water someone had given him. Scott doubted Virgil would have managed any time alone, anyway. His four would-be-girlfriends weren't giving him a moment's peace, undeterred by his obvious reluctance as they offered a comforting hug or leaned in close to whisper something to him.
When Jeff, apparently conscious now, but clearly not well judging by the oxygen mask he wore, was finally taken away, Virgil made to follow him, but a policeman stopped him, directing him back to his seat. His protests were ignored, a more senior officer came over to remonstrate, and eventually the middle brother had no option but to give up and sit back down, but not before looking directly at one of the cameras and giving them a one-shouldered shrug which they all knew meant something along the lines of could be better, could be worse. Then Flora, Frances, Fay and Isabel surrounded him, intent on offering comfort in any way they could - and any hope of further communication was lost.
"Well it doesn't look as though there's anything to start panicking about," Alan said, hoping to reassure his grandmother.
"It's one less problem," Scott agreed. "But we've got others."
"Penny-"
"Not just Penny, Al. Or the others. I'm thinking about the authorities. They're going to need to be told about what happened. You're sure there haven't been any transmissions to suggest this was all some kind of set-up?"
"I'd have told you if there were," Alan said, somewhat irritably. "It has to be for real, Scott. We've got to pass on our information. But how do we do it without exposing Dad and Virg? And then there's Parker..." There was still a note of confusion in Alan's voice as he recalled the man's inexplicable actions.
"We'll have to let the police think he was taken along with the others," Grandma said. "We can't give him away. Not yet, anyway. He must have been was acting under duress. I can't believe he'd betray Penny willingly."
"He wouldn't," Scott insisted. "But he was part of this, Grandma. A big part. We need to start looking for him. If we find him, we find Penny. Al, how are the guys doing?"
There was silence for a while as Alan opened up a link with Thunderbird Two. "They've evacuated the two towns that were in immediate danger," he finally informed his brother. "They're needed further up the coast, though - looks like that fire's a bad one. What should I do? If I tell them what's happened they're going to want to come home. Not that I'm going to be able to keep it from them - the news is going to be out soon enough."
He'd already overheard several frantic conversations between the security forces. Of course Penny's big society wedding had been covered by all the top magazines, and several journalists were now champing at the bit to be first to break the story. MI5 seemed to be winning the battle so far: the small group was corralled at the side of the Abbey, phones and recording devices having been taken away from them, much to their annoyance. But they couldn't be kept quiet for ever - and even if they could, there were three hundred other people in the Abbey who might just as easily reveal what had happened. No, it seemed inevitable that very soon the news would be out and the whole world, not just Britain, would be watching in fascination. Poor Penny, Alan thought. Things never seemed to run smoothly for her.
"Some wedding, huh, Tin-Tin?" he whispered.
He started abruptly when Scott cut in and demanded he hurry up and patch him through to Thunderbird Two.
As Field Commander of International Rescue, Scott had grown used to giving bad news, but he'd never had to explain anything quite like this before, and after a few perfunctory greetings and updates on the rescue, a long silence built up as he tried to work out what to say.
"Scott? Everything okay?" Gordon asked.
"Well... Actually, guys, you'll never believe what's happened..."
"What? The bride's been spirited away by masked gunmen just as they were about to exchange the rings?" John's tone was weary. He'd just spent five weeks up in space and any kind of physical exertion took it out of him after a rotation, let alone the kind of punishment his body was enduring right now. International Rescue might have the very latest equipment and technology, but sometimes there was no substitute for a bit of brute force. There was a reason why he left this kind of thing to his brothers, he thought. Virgil now, he'd have lifted that woman out one-handed. Scott might have needed both hands, but he'd still have made light work of the task. John, however, well he was an intellectual, he just wasn't made for tasks like this.
But intellectual or not, he still wasn't expecting his brother to confirm his words.
"Yeah..." Scott sounded confused. "Well, more or less. How did you know?"
Then Alan cut across him, with real agitation:
"John! You didn't plan it did you? Some sort of scheme to get Scott and Penny together?"
Scott spluttered something indignant at this, but John was speechless. Partly because he couldn't believe such a thing had actually happened - although when he considered the many adventures his family and Penny had shared, he supposed he shouldn't really have been surprised - but mainly because not even he would stoop to those levels of deviousness, though he was quite touched that his youngest brother believed he might.
"Okay," he finally said. "Start again. I don't think I heard you right."
"Oh, you did," Scott told him. "Take a look. Alan, send the video feed through."
The reaction that followed was utterly predictable, Gordon, John and Brains responding first with incredulity, then with anger.
"Which hospital did they take Dad to?" John asked, turning to the computer console in Two's cockpit.
"Don't know," Alan told him. "Can you-"
John had already found the information. He couldn't help wishing he'd been the one up on Five that day. He didn't hold anything against Alan, but if he'd been there, he could have easily tracked the attackers via traffic and police cameras and been well on the way to directing the police to their location. Now the task would be impossible. They would just have to wait for the ransom demand and go from there. If they had the opportunity to get involved at all, of course. With a member of the royal family and the heads of both the Church of England and MI5 missing, every single member of the police and the secret services would be pulled in to find them. Surely the person who had planned this would have known that. It was a horribly risky thing to do - and yet it showed a certain amount of flair and daring, too. John couldn't help feeling a degree of admiration even amidst the anger and worry.
Virgil paced in irritation. Oblivious now to the beauty of the ancient building which had enthralled him from the moment he'd entered it just a few days ago, and not even able to get to the piano to bang out a few bars of something just to relieve the tension, he waited impatiently for the authorities to allow him to leave. He should be with his father now - or out searching for Penny. He wasn't used to waiting around like this. Would they never get round to questioning him so he could leave? That was the penalty of a possessing a surname in the lower reaches of the alphabet, he thought, not for the first time in his life. The guests had been questioned first in order of importance, then, once the great and the powerful had been allowed to leave, the rest were taken alphabetically. At least they're not going by first names, Virgil thought to himself. He'd never been particularly fond of his name, least of all when someone - usually Alan - decided it would be a good idea to allow some activity like the unwrapping of Christmas presents to proceed in alphabetical order. He hadn't even gained any respite from the relentless attentions of the string quartet, although at least now they were reduced to a trio, an unhappy Isabel having been dealt with and sent on her way half an hour ago. The Sullivan sisters hadn't been able to hide their glee.
Normally a perfect gentleman, even with people he didn't much care for, Virgil had finally cracked, demanding that they leave him alone and stomping off. He'd missed the resulting argument between the three as they each blamed the others for pushing him away.
There had been a flurry of activity when Parker had turned out to be one of the victims, the chauffeur's disappearance missed in the initial drama of discovering that so many of the more important people present at the ceremony had been taken. It had come as a shock to Virgil, too, and he hated himself for not having noticed straight away. The man had been sitting next to his father, after all, but naturally Jeff had taken up all his attention. Virgil was consumed with guilt now, as well as worry. His friends were missing, his father rushed off to hospital - Virgil rarely begged, but on this occasion, he had pleaded to be allowed to accompany him, but the police had been insistent. No one would be leaving until they'd given an account of themselves. At least the questioning had been relatively brief - all anyone could say was that one moment they'd been sitting there quite happily, the next, they'd been picking themselves up off the floor, more often than not with a pounding headache and a strong degree of nausea.
Virgil wished he could get in touch with Scott, but there was no hope of that, not with so many police and members of the secret service prowling around. He knew it was only a matter of time until they found the cameras he'd set up. They were small and he'd placed them as unobtrusively as he could, but they weren't particularly well-hidden - they couldn't have been, not when he'd needed to give his grandmother as clear a view as possible. Not for the first time he wondered if he should alert someone in MI5 to the fact that the whole event had been recorded. But if so, who? Only a select few knew of Lady Penelope's links with International Rescue, and Virgil was reluctant to risk a security breach, especially when there were so many other people around who might overhear. He really needed to consult his brothers - would this wait ever be over?
"Virgil Tracy?"
Finally, he thought, rising from his pew and heading over to the man who'd called his name. Just ten minutes later, having given exactly the same version of events as every other guest - all the while hoping he wasn't giving anything away under the man's intense gaze - he was allowed to leave.
Feeling faintly ridiculous in his formal clothes, he made his way out onto the street, desperately searching for somewhere secluded in order to contact Base. But once again his hopes were dashed as a familiar and unwelcome voice called his name.
"Virgil? Virgil!"
Flora. Couldn't the girl take a hint? He hadn't exactly been subtle in the Abbey, after all, but then she had always been the most persistent of the four.
"I've been waiting for you," she said, catching him up and gripping his arm tightly to stop him getting away. "I've been worried about you."
"I'm fine," Virgil told her, doing his best to disengage himself, but the girl had the grip of a limpet and as soon as he managed to get her hand free, the other latched on to him.
"No you're not," she told him. "Anyone can see how worried you are. Your poor father. But it's going to be alright, you'll see. I'll take you to the hospital - look, here's my car - and I'll wait with you. I can't leave you on your own at a time like this."
"No, really," Virgil said, pulling away more forcefully now. "I'm fine, Flora. Honestly. Once I'm at the hospital I'll be in with Dad. I really don't need any company."
"But-"
"I'll call you!" Virgil said, deciding that under the circumstances he could be forgiven for the lie.
Flora's eyes gleamed for a moment as she considered this, but just as Virgil thought he was going to get away from her, she shook her head.
"I can't leave you alone," she insisted. "I mean, it's not just your father you have to worry about, is it? You're a friend of poor Lady Penelope. Who knows what's happening to her and the others right now. No, I wouldn't be able to rest if I thought you were dealing with all this by yourself."
Virgil almost groaned in frustration, especially when his watch began to vibrate. The knowledge that he was so close to finding out what had happened whilst they had all been unconscious was driving him crazy. Why couldn't Flora just leave him alone?
"Come on," Flora said encouragingly. "Poor Virgil, you're so tense. A little Bach as we drive along will soon make you feel better."
Virgil doubted anything could ease the frustration right now. Then, as he glanced desperately around, an idea came to him and he stopped trying to pull away from the girl.
"Okay," he said. "Thanks."
Flora gave him a beaming smile, squeezed his hand tightly for a moment then let go to fumble in her bag for her keys. "That's better," she said. "You'll- Virgil?"
Virgil had taken advantage of his moment of freedom to throw himself out into the road, straight into the path of an oncoming taxi. The car screamed to a halt, the driver yelling curses that would have made even WASP veteran Gordon blush, but Virgil ignored it all, yanking the door open and throwing himself in, waving a handful of notes at the suddenly silent man and demanding he head for the hospital where Jeff Tracy was being treated.
Furious, Flora stared after the cab as it disappeared around a corner. How dare he? She'd been nothing but caring and considerate from the moment she'd met him and this was how he repaid her! She'd thought he was so sweet - he was handsome and rich and a wonderful musician, but despite all that he hadn't seemed arrogant at all - but he'd certainly shown his true colours now. She remembered once again how he'd roughly pushed her off him when he'd woken up in the Abbey. She was sure she was going to have a bruise where her elbow had cracked against the floor. Isabel had witnessed it and had taken great delight in telling her that it proved Virgil had no interest in her, but she'd brushed it off with the observation that he'd just been worried about his father. She wasn't going to make excuses for him this time, though.
Humiliated and angry, she thought for a moment, then locked up her car and strode purposefully back towards the Abbey.
In the taxi, Virgil's relief at finally being free from Flora was short-lived. His watch continued to vibrate, but he still had no way of answering. He debated getting out, but he'd given the taxi driver all his cash and he could hardly ask for it back, not after practically giving the man a heart attack when he'd jumped out in front of him. If he left the cab now, he'd have to walk to the hospital, and who knew how long that would take. No, he was better off waiting it out, he reasoned.
He wondered what his family had witnessed whilst he'd been unconscious. He'd half-expected someone from MI5 to take him to one side at the Abbey and tell him all about it. Surely Alan would have sent them a recording of the transmission. Maybe they'd already tracked Penny and the others down and apprehended the people who had done this. The wait for news was sheer torment, and thanks to the ridiculously heavy London traffic that Saturday lunchtime, it didn't look as if it would be over any time soon. His only comfort was that he wasn't spending the time in the company of Flora.
It was over twenty minutes later when he flung himself out of the cab and took himself off to a secluded spot in the hospital grounds to put in a call to the others. Every so often the wail of a siren would half-deafen him, but he was finally able to learn the truth about what had happened.
When he heard what Parker had done the shock was so great that he nearly needed an ambulance himself!
Up on Thunderbird Five, whilst Virgil fretted in the back of his taxi, Alan had watched nervously as one of the policemen who had been poking around near the piano, came ever nearer to the hidden camera.
"Here we go, guys," he called as the man's face filled the screen, puzzlement all over his face as he realised what he was looking at. Then he turned away and yelled for assistance, announcing that he'd found a clue to the kidnappers.
"Shut it off!" John ordered, and the screen went blank. They could still witness events via the second camera Virgil had set up - this one up on a balcony and giving a view of the whole Abbey in order for Grandma to enjoy Penny's procession up the aisle as well as get a good look at the guests - and it was clear to see that the discovery had caused great excitement amongst the investigators.
"Well, it's no surprise," Scott said. "I don't suppose there's any reason Virg would have worn gloves when he set those things up?"
"I see where you're going, brother," John responded. "Those cameras are tiny, but there's a big enough surface for a partial fingerprint. Virgil might have some explaining to do. I'll hack into the ID files and change his prints. Better safe than sorry."
"Or you could contact MI5," Grandma suggested, always unhappy when her grandson was engaged in some dubious hacking activity. "Tell them he's got nothing to do with the kidnapping."
"Tell who?" John asked. "Grandma, the only people who know about our links with MI5 are Penny and Irving Ross, the head guy. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but both of them are who-knows-where. We can't say anything without risking a massive security breach."
"And we can't show them the footage without giving Parker away..." Alan swallowed nervously. "Do you really think they'll check out the guests?"
"They've got to start somewhere," Scott said. "Damn. Someone's got to get over there."
"We could fly back," Gordon said, a little hesitantly.
"No. You're needed there." Scott's mind raced through any and every possible course of action, but with Thunderbird One out of action there simply wasn't anything he could do. There was no way he was getting off the Atlantic island and once again he cursed his father's decision to buy it. He'd known it wouldn't be a lucky place...
He kicked out at a storeroom door. It swung open and he idly glanced inside. His eyes fell upon one particular piece of equipment and, with a cry of delight, he dived in and grabbed it.
Half an hour later he was stubbornly rejecting all the objections his family were putting his way.
"I know it's a risk, but it's the only chance we've got," he insisted, strapping on the jet pack.
"Brains, will you tell him?" Grandma said yet again.
"W-well, Mrs T-Tracy, th-theoretically it should w-work..." Brains didn't sound entirely convinced.
"'Theoretically' is all very well!" Grandma snapped. "But this is ridiculous. Scott, you can't fly eight hundred miles to London with a jet pack."
"Grandma, I've replaced the power pack with a nuclear charger," Scott said patiently. "I won't run out of fuel. I've got a good oxygen supply and a flight suit which will withstand the cold. It's not my preferred form of transport, I'll give you that, but what choice do we have?"
No one had an answer to that.
"I'll be fine," Scott insisted.
If he had his fingers crossed, he didn't admit it.