Sorry it's late - this chapter didn't want to be written. Or do I mean that it did want to be written - so much that it made me write about six different versions of it...? Thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter - it's much appreciated. Whirlgirl - thanks for the review. This story's going off in directions I hadn't planned. I was determined there weren't going to be any Brains/Parker scenes for the sake of my sanity, but things didn't quite turn out that way...
Chapter Nineteen
"Hello, again, International Rescue."
Alan took a deep breath, glanced across at the vid-screens for reassurance from John, Scott and his father, then put on the weariest of voices, drawing on all the times prank calls had come into IR for inspiration.
"You again? Look, you're wasting my time. I should cut you off."
"You won't do that," Sahara told him. "Anyway, if you do, I'll just call you again. You can't isolate my signal to block me, so we can play this game all day. All week, if you like. I don't mind - I've waited a long time to do this, I can wait for as long as it takes. I want to speak to-"
"This is International Rescue, not a switchboard. If you want to speak to Jeff Tracy, why don't you call his office?" Alan suggested.
John nodded his approval. His fingers flew over his keyboard as he tried everything he could to trace the signal.
"Is that how you get your father's attention, Alan?"
"You think I'm Alan Tracy?" Alan's voice held an element of amusement now. "That's the racing guy, right?"
"That's the one. The boy who used his father's money to buy his way into a top drive then got lucky. At least, that's what an old friend of mine once said."
Alan refused to rise to the bait. He'd heard it all before, anyway. Unaware that his father and brothers were letting out a collective sigh of relief at his calm response, he informed the woman that he knew nothing about motor racing. Not that it did him any good.
"I matched the voices, Alan," she informed him. "Actually, I used an interview you gave after that Brazilian race where your closest rival's engine caught fire. You definitely got lucky in that one. But your luck had to run out one day, didn't it, so let's stop messing around."
"Damn." Jeff Tracy's response was brief and to the point.
"Even if she's identified Alan it doesn't mean she can prove anything about the rest of us," Gordon said.
"You think so?" Scott snapped. "She knows, Gordon. We're not going to bluff our way out of this one."
"Calm down, Scott," Jeff admonished. "John, how are you doing?"
"I'm starting to get somewhere, I think. Keep her talking, Alan."
Alan did his best. "Look, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but whatever you're using to mask your transmissions must be messing up your equipment. I'm not Alan Tracy. Never met the guy, never wanted to. Life in International Rescue is a hell of a lot more exciting than going round in circles on some racetrack, believe me. But if you want to speak to him I could find his phone number for you whilst I'm looking up Jeff Tracy's."
"Alan, please, stop. You're right about it being dull going round in circles, so let's do everyone a favour and get down to business. I'm sure your father is listening in - probably the rest of the family, too - so let me tell you all what I want. Feel free to chip in anytime, Mr Tracy - you know you want to."
Jeff certainly did, but he bit his tongue. He had the Tracy jet on autopilot now, not trusting himself to keep control of the plane under the circumstances. The jet had been modified by Brains, and once Jeff was far enough away from the island - and safe from detection by anyone who might be monitoring him - he would activate the thrusters which would allow him to reach the Atlantic base in just four hours. It would be a rough, uncomfortable ride but speed was of the essence. The last thing Jeff wanted was to be stuck in the air and out of the action. As he'd taken off, he'd kept an eye out for anyone keeping the island under surveillance, but he'd seen nothing. Nor had his instruments picked up anything. Still, that didn't mean that there wasn't some ship or aircraft somewhere in the vicinity, equipped with technology which would hide its presence, watching and waiting for the launch of something more interesting than a private jet.
Well, if they were there, they'd have a long and futile wait. No Thunderbirds would be taking to the air any time soon. Jeff prayed there wasn't any emergency that required his boys. They'd either have to let people die, or give themselves away by launching - and that would be the last time International Rescue would be of any use to anyone.
"Dad?" Alan's voice came over the radio and Jeff responded quickly, reiterating his refusal to engage in any dialogue with this woman. "You're doing fine, son," he told his youngest. "Keep it up."
Sahara came in again. "Okay, Mr Tracy, I'm sure you and I will get the chance to talk eventually. I'm not surprised you're lost for words, really. I mean, it hasn't been a good time for you lately, has it? First of all your best agent gets kidnapped and you end up in hospital, then this. You're probably wondering if the two are connected. Well I'll put you out of your misery - they are. It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise, wouldn't it? In fact, since I'm feeling generous, I'll help you out on another question, too. You're obviously wondering who I am, so I'll tell you. No, actually, I'll let Penny tell you. Come on, Penny, say hello to your friends."
Penny looked in confusion at the radio mic that Sahara was holding out to her. What to do? Should she go ahead and give the Tracys the identity of their adversary? Or would she be playing into Sahara's hands and giving her the leverage she needed to get what she wanted? She studied Sahara intently, trying to get some clue as to what she should do, but the woman's mocking smile told her nothing.
"Not talking? Oh well, they'll just have to stay in the dark as to who I am."
She made to remove the radio, only for Penny to finally react.
"It's Sahara!" she blurted out. She could only guess at the reaction this news would elicit. All the Tracys had suffered in one way or another at the woman's hands: Scott and Virgil physically - one beaten, the other shot - whilst the others had endured days of misery when they'd been convinced that the eldest Tracy brother was dead. They'd been pleased when Penny had sworn to find the woman and bring her to justice. Well, she'd failed - the start of her decline as an agent, she thought - and now look what had happened. This was all her fault.
Sahara smiled smugly at her, clearly guessing what was going through her head, before returning to her conversation with Alan. "Did you get that? You see, we're old friends - well, some of us are. It was nice to see you the other day, Scott. Did you like my new look? You should thank me, you know - Eric would have shot you when you tried to escape. I stopped him."
Scott wasn't thanking her - rather he was cursing her - but he suspected she knew that.
"You've gone quiet, Alan," Sahara went on. "You'd have cut me off by now if I was talking nonsense, wouldn't you?"
"We're a rescue organisation," Alan told her. "If that's really Lady Penelope, it's my duty to do what I can to try to find her. Are the other hostages safe?"
"Safe enough," Sahara said, her tone clearly one of disinterest. "In fact, as you probably know, one of them's already been released. As for the rest of them, well, that rather depends on you, so let's get down to business. Unfinished business, actually. I hate to fail on a mission, so I'll start by taking the engine designs for Thunderbird Four."
Now it was Gordon's turn to curse.
"There will be other requirements, of course," Sahara went on. "But that will do to start with. A hard copy, please. No electronic data - I'm sure you'll try to put some virus or tracker in with it and that wouldn't suit my plans at all. No, I want it all on paper, to be handed over at a time and place of my choosing."
"This is crazy," Alan told her, relaying his father's response. "You'll get nothing from us."
"Alan, what would be crazy would be for you to ignore me. If you don't, well, you'd better tell your grandmother to put the kettle on - there are going to be an awful lot of journalists descending on Tracy Island."
"Well that'll be a bit inconvenient for everyone," Alan said. "But I'm sure once the press realise there's nothing to be found, the Tracys will be left alone."
"You think it's just a waiting game? But what would happen if whilst all those journalists were there, there was some emergency that required International Rescue's presence? That would answer the question right away, wouldn't it? If the Thunderbirds turned up to help, then the Tracy family would be in the clear, of course. But would that happen? Well, let's hope we don't have to put it to the test."
"You'd engineer something like that just to try to prove some insane theory?" Alan asked, horrified.
"If necessary," Sahara told him. "So be a good boy, do your duty by those potential innocent victims and give me what I want. I'll be in touch again soon. Oh, say hello to Brains for me - and remind him that I need to be able to read his writing. I remember that scrawl of his. Tell him no tricks, no playing with the designs so that the sub doesn't have the same capabilities as Thunderbird Four. There's too much at stake here. Isn't there, Penny? Got any last words for your friends?"
She held out the radio to Penny once again. This time there was no hesitation, even though Penny found she was scared of the consequences. But she had to take the chance. Something had been playing on her mind ever since she'd overheard Eric and Sahara talking at the farmhouse and if she could do one thing to help the Tracys, to make up for all the trouble she'd caused them, then she'd do it, whatever Sahara did to her in revenge.
"She's after Virgil! She's going to use him to get to Scott."
Sahara took the radio away, clipping the microphone back in its holder then turning to Penny once again. The aristocrat had expected to see anger in her eyes, but instead there was satisfaction - and a degree of amusement.
"Thank you," she said. "You've played right into my hands."
Penny sank back, utterly devastated. Sahara had wanted her to give away her plans? Far from helping Virgil, had she just made matters worse for everyone? For Scott?
"You know, in a way I'm sorry you proved me right," Sahara mused. "I actually found myself hoping you'd put your husband first and try to help him. You could have told them about Sebastian, you know. Poor Simon - have you thought about him at all since we set off?"
Penny couldn't look at her. Sahara - once again - was right. Penny had been so focused on Scott and the rest of the Tracys, not to mention International Rescue - and, if she was honest, on her own fate - that she'd barely given those back at that isolated farmhouse a thought.