Note: Like the previous chapters, I've updated this chapter on the 26-Feb – just slight grammar edits, etc, but no plot changes, so there's no need to re-read it again.

Chapter 3

'…and news just to hand – it appears that Migaloo4, the rare and famous white whale, was caught up in yesterday's daring International Rescue mission. Thirty people were rescued by the secret rescue organisation from a stranded tourist submarine just off the Australian coast. Earlier this morning, the whale was seen floundering in waters near the town of Hervey Bay. We'll cross now to our on the spot reporter, Gregory Flinton, for more information about this worrying development. Greg?'

'That's right Katherine - early this morning whale experts sighted the famous white whale, Migaloo4, off the coast of Queensland. The whale was first seen by a local man out for some early morning fishing. He reported his sighting to the authorities after seeing a deep gash to the whale's side. Marine biologists, who took a boat out a short time ago, have confirmed that the whale is injured. They weren't able to get too close as the distressed whale moved off into deeper waters.

For those viewers not familiar with the whale or yesterday's daring rescue…the tourist submarine had been out on a sightseeing trip specifically to see the rare whale in the Great Barrier Reef, when it became stranded…the sub that is, Katherine…and it is now believed that Migaloo4 was caught up in the rescue mission and is most likely to have been hit by the rescue craft known as a Thunderbird. There are no further details of the whale's condition but experts are deeply concerned about the world's only albino whale. Back to you Katherine…'

Alan sat upright from where he'd been slumped on the sofa.

'Hey, you never said anything last night about hitting a whale,' he said to Gordon, who sat next to him.

Gordon sipped his mid-morning coffee and said nothing.

'Hit a whale,' Alan said in amazement as if it was the most astonishing thing he'd ever heard. 'Imagine that.'

Gordon sipped his coffee more intently. He didn't have to imagine anything.

'And not just any whale but the world's only living white whale, from a long line of famous white whales, since, well before the turn of the century, so they say,' Alan continued half to himself.

'Shut up, Alan,' muttered Gordon, but Alan didn't seem to hear him.

'You never said anything about it last night. Did you see it?'

He turned expectantly, but his brother was pretending to be mesmerised by the morning news stock report.

'You must've seen it, Gordo! I mean, a white whale would be hard to miss,' Alan continued sounding a bit confused, as if trying to nut out a particularly hard crossword clue. 'I mean a whale is hardly something you wouldn't see, but a big white one must be really hard to miss…'

'Alan, shut up,' Gordon said loudly.

'Oh, don't worry Gordon!' his brother said brightly, mistaking Gordon's reticence with embarrassment. 'It's not your fault that you ran into a white whale. It shouldn't have gotten in the way. It should've seen you. After all it is a marine animal and it should've been able to see you better than you could see it.' He waited for a response from Gordon, but when he didn't get one, he decided his brother needed some extra cheering up. 'And you know, it was difficult and you were tired and all…'

'Alan, shut up!' shouted Gordon, surprising even himself. 'And who says I was tired?'

Alan was more shocked than hurt, since Gordon never really shouted at anyone, let alone him.

'Well…er…everyone,' Alan stumbled. 'Scott says you've been tired, and Dad says you've done a lot of hard missions recently so you're stressed.'

Gordon could hardly believe his ears. Stressed? So, people had been talking about him behind his back and questioning his competence!

He got up without a word and strode out on to the balcony leaving a confused Alan on the sofa. Throwing the small amount of coffee left in his mug over the railing, he watched it fall into the gardens two stories below without really seeing it.

Damn that whale! Now the whole world was going to think that International Rescue had run into a whale and left it for dead. Was he supposed to feel guilty about that? Hell, no. If the stupid whale hadn't got in the way in the first place he wouldn't have people questioning his successful rescue mission as if it was a failure.

'Gordon,' a stern voice said behind him. He turned. It was his father. 'In my study - now.'

Gordon followed his father to his study, passing a worried looking Alan on the sofa.

His father sat down at his desk, the TV screen to one side was showing the weather report.

'Sit,' Jeff barked.

Gordon sat in the chair opposite. Jeff looked at his second youngest like an entomologist appraising a bug on a pin.

'What is this about a whale?' Jeff asked.

Gordon considered for a moment and decided he may as well tell the truth.

'I hit a whale.'

'Really,' his father said in mock surprise, 'so I just heard. On the television. On the morning news. Funny, how you didn't mention it last night, when we were sitting right next to each other, talking about the mission in detail.'

Gordon said nothing and looked at the TV. His father stabbed a button on his table's control panel and the picture shut off.

'Forgot did we?' Jeff said with quiet sarcasm.

Gordon took in a slow, deep breath and concentrated really hard on not rolling his eyes.

One thing he hated more than his father's stickling for rules was his father's not so thinly veiled sarcasm.

'I didn't think it was important. It didn't have anything to do with the mission. It got in the way…'

'You didn't think it was important to mention hitting a whale. Even after I asked you if there was anything else to report, and you said 'no'. Now, unless I'm going crazy, hitting a large marine mammal does not count as nothing. Most folks would say hitting a whale is a little out of the ordinary, and therefore, an important something worth reporting!'

Gordon said nothing. He knew his father had already made up his mind, and no amount of explaining how hard it all was, was going to make any difference.

'Did anything else 'get in the way', eh? Anything else you don't consider important to report?'

'Nothing,' Gordon shrugged as if bored but when he looked back at his father, he saw the other man's raw anger.

'Nothing?' Jeff's said through gritted teeth.

He waited, but when Gordon refused to answer, he stood up, towering over Gordon.

'Nothing! What about that other thing in the water – the submarine. You remember the submarine, don't you, Gordon? The one full of terrified people, the one that you were suppose to save. The one you ran into, injuring three people.'

'I didn't run into them!' Gordon shouted back, feeling the bile rising.

'No?' his father was shouting now. 'Then perhaps you can explain why Brains and TinTin found marks on Thunderbird 4 that show it ran into something. A something that is painted the exact same colour as that tourist sub!'

Gordon felt the room shrink and heard a strange roaring in his ears. Heat rose around his head like fire.

'Hey,' he yelled, jumping out of his chair, no longer able to contain himself, 'I saved those people! And in massive seas while a damn whale kept getting in the damn way, and while other people, safely out of harm's way, harassed me with stupid questions!'

His father slowly put his clamped fists on his desk and leaned forward, looking like a volcano about to erupt. 'Really,' he hissed, his eyes steely. 'And when did you plan to mention that you smashed into a submarine, endangering everyone in it, while nearly killing a damn rare and damn famous whale which now the international media is blaming International Rescue for nearly killing! Huh, tell me when? Tomorrow? The next day? Ten years from now!'

'I rescued them!' Gordon yelled but his voice cracked and he felt a wave of exhaustion descend on him.

His father, stony faced, looked at him and waited. Gordon knew that look. He'd seen that face when Gordon had wanted to go off to train for the Olympics rather than concentrate on his studies. It was a look of disappointment and disapproval.

But just like then, Gordon refused to cow-tow now.

'Clearly, something went wrong,' his father said quietly. 'Poor communication, mistakes during the mission, lying and an attitude that stinks.'

He sat down and continued. 'I think you need to reassess what you are actually meant to be doing here.' Gordon knew Jeff was talking to him not as father to son, but boss to employee. 'To do that I'm going to give you a little thinking time. You're suspended.'

Gordon was both surprised and not the least bit surprised, but at the same time he didn't really care.

'Fine,' was all he could voice and before his father could add anything he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Once in his bedroom he spent several minutes striding back and forth, seething. Then he threw himself down on his bed, rolled over and stared at the ceiling while grinding his teeth. He turned his head and reached out and prodded the wooden side of his bed table unit. A little wedge of wood popped out with a small 'click'. He pulled this open further to reveal a slot.

In a house of rowdy boys, use to rummaging through each others stuff and discussing anything of interest over the breakfast table (he should know, he'd done it often enough) it paid to have a hiding place for valuables.

He reached in the narrow gap and pulled out an envelope, its side already carelessly ripped open. Removing the card from the envelope, Gordon read it for the umpteenth time. He knew what it said almost by heart.

It was a wedding invitation he'd received a week ago. The wedding invitation of Carol Brooks to Paul Stewart.

His ex-girlfriend getting married to the guy he'd supervised at WASP.

He got up and walked over to the mirror, envelope in hand. He stared at his reflection without really seeing.

He made a decision. He didn't care if it was the right one or not. He had to get away, from his father, his brothers and International Rescue.