FIVE

Scott could probably list the few times in his life when he'd been truly speechless, but watching the Colonel stride towards him, accusing him of stupidity, was one he'd have to add to the list.

"You're an Interrogator?" Scott's voice came out an octave higher than normal as he fired the accusation out. He cleared his throat. "You're an interrogator and you're working for him?"

"It's a shame your powers of observation weren't so accurate last week!" she hissed back as she stepped towards Virgil. Her arm raised in a gesture that was ordering him to his feet. Virgil slowly complied.

"Wait! What are you doing?"

The Colonel hesitated.

Somewhere inside Scott, her presence had sparked a hope that she could offer them some protection. Her attitude, however, was effectively extinguishing any of that.

"I know this is an alien concept to you," the Colonel replied, removing a zip tie from her pocket to secure Virgil's hands behind his back, "but I'm following instruction." She reached down to Virgil's ankle and freed him from the restraint of the chain. "You should try it some time."

Virgil felt a shove to the middle of his back and stumbled forward a few paces.

"Guards!" The Colonel shouted out. "Interrogation Room," she ordered, when two men appeared.

Virgil found himself pulled by his elbows towards the door. Scott believed that he could handle this, he reminded himself, risking one last glance towards his brother.

As they made eye contact, Scott felt as though his heart was shrivelling up inside his chest. It was the same look in Virgil's eyes, the same feeling deep in his chest and the same helpless frustration he'd felt all those years ago in the wake of his mother's death. He was just so damned powerless to stop this.

The guards roughly pulled a hessian bag over Virgil's head and he was manhandled out the door. Scott reached out to the Colonel's arm before she moved away. It was more instinct than reason prompting him in to action but he clutched her forearm, nonetheless. Deep down, the rational part of him knew not to engage with his tormentors; that to do so was to provide her with ammunition to use against him at a later date. In reality though, it was perhaps a little ambitious to think a two week training course would override a sentiment that had ruled his entire life; to protect his brothers. Virgil was no different.

The Colonel looked down at his grip on her arm, probably firmer than necessary, and then straight in to his eyes, angered.

"Let go," she ordered, glaring towards the door pointedly. The Guards had gone ahead with Virgil and they were alone but the warning stood nevertheless.

Scott made no effort to obey, if anything tightening his grasp. "He's had no formal preparation for what's going to happen in there," he said.

They both knew he was pleading without saying the words.

"Maybe that's something you should have considered when you completed your Security Review," she rumbled, yanking her arm free and heading for the door.

"Colonel!" Scott called out. She stopped but didn't turn back towards him. "He's got no military history."

"Are you asking me to go easy on him?"

"Hurt him, and I won't tell you anything,"

She laughed in an act of exasperation, head thrown back.

"You really don't get it do you?" She finally turned to face him and dropped her voice to a whisper, "Four years at Denver studying Engineering, including a placement year, graduating at the top of his class, a further three years working for De-Mark Engineering in Denver, winning three prizes during his time there for performance and innovation. Then a period of 18 months working for your father before International Rescue went live," she reeled off Virgil's CV as if she'd written it. "I know all about Virgil Tracy, I know about all of it."

Scott felt his insides twinge; frightened at how well versed she was in their history.

"Then why are you doing this?"

Her reply came as she stalked to the door.

"Mine is not to reason why, mine is but to do or die."

XxxX

Brains busied himself with making coffee as Alan made a valiant attempt to comfort Tin-Tin. The young Engineer had never been more relieved in his life when, having offered Tin-Tin his handkerchief Alan had entered the Lab at a jog. Right about the time he realised he wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't cry, Tin-Tin," Alan was running a hand along her back. "Scott and Virgil will be fine." Brains wished he could believe that but he knew, just like Alan knew, they were words. Just meaningless words.

"Oh, Alan," Tin-Tin's eyes were red but she no longer cried. "The things those people were subjected to. That Scott and Virgil could be subjected to."

"We don't know that there's a connection between Scott and Virgil's disappearance and those people's deaths," Alan replied. "We don't even know that Kasim Templar is connected to this in any way."

Brains raised an eyebrow to himself, wisely keeping his own council on that theory.

"We do, Alan," Tin-Tin nodded. "We know in our hearts."

Alan didn't seem to have a reply for that one and just wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her head in to the crook of his shoulder.

Brains chose that moment to come over, handing them a mug of the coffee in turn.

Alan nodded his thanks and their eyes met, exchanging their own silent thoughts.

"Per-Perhaps doing err some-something more err, pro-proactive would help?" Brains indicated the desk where three computer screens were simultaneously undertaking various tasks.

"Yes," Tin-Tin nodded, moving away from Alan's hold. "Of course, Brains," she swallowed hard and tried to compose herself. "What can we do?"

"I'm err… re-reviewing CCTV footage from th-the Thunderbirds err … re-remotely," Brains replied, as Tin-Tin came to stand at his shoulder. "So far, there err d-doesn't appear to err b-be anything to err g-go on but there's a bl-blind sp-spot here." He indicated towards one of the screens.

"I'll pull satellite imagery of the area from Thunderbird Five." Tin-Tin sat down alongside him, abandoned her mug and began tapping. "Do you have the exact co-ordinates of the craft?"

"H.. Here," Brains slid a piece of paper across the desk towards her, his eyes not leaving the screen.

Alan didn't have the heart to tell them that John had already done all this. Besides there was always a chance, small as it might be, that John had missed something. It was worth a second look.

The doors swished open and Gordon appeared. He looked across to Tin-Tin and offered her a sad smile. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded but it was hesitant. "We must concentrate on finding Scott and Virgil."

"Good," Gordon could see it was a façade but they didn't have time right now for tears. "Dad wants you to take Tracy One to Tehbna, Alan and I are going to parachute in a few clicks East and then hike up to the Danger Zone. We can take control of the Thunderbirds with minimal possibility of the Tracy name being associated."

He glanced at Alan to check his brother was listening.

Tin-Tin looked to Alan too, and for a second she appeared upset at the thought, but it passed. "Then, I will ready Tracy One for flight." She bustled past Gordon towards the door.

"She really okay?" Gordon asked. Brains kept his head down; he'd already conveyed his sentiments to Alan.

Alan heaved a sigh, "No. Are any of us?" He paused for a second. "You think we can trust this woman?"

Gordon shrugged, "I don't see we have much choice. We have no idea what's happened to them and we have no idea where they are." He raised his hands, palm up. "We have to hope we can trust her, because if you take her out of the equation right now…"

He looked directly at his brother.

"…we're pretty screwed, Al."

"Ahh…" Brains suddenly spoke up, "This is ahhh o-odd."

XxxX

The bag covering Virgil's head smelled musty and stale. The air was uncomfortably humid, dry and hot. The hood was designed to be desensitising; he knew that. He remembered being told the tactics during his training sessions but it was one thing listening to Penelope's soft tones explaining these things and something completely different to experience it. As oxygen took longer to filter in through the hessian material, he felt increasingly claustrophobic. Virgil was perfectly aware the material on his head had probably been on a number of other heads too; the smells of their sweat and irony blood, all mingled together with the sweat that trickled down his own brow now. Penelope hadn't mentioned that.

He tried not to think about what how his predecessors had faired.

Forcefully he was turned 180 degrees and the zip tie was cut with such little effort it left him in no doubt as to the efficiency of the blade. Then, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Sit."

A male, foreign voice hissed in to his ear. An instruction, offered in the same way a man would command a dog.

Gingerly, Virgil lowered himself, unsure what exactly he was sitting on. At the point of overbalancing, the hand on his shoulder pushed him down into a chair and he felt his wrists and ankles being secured with straps, possibly leather.

Between the 180 degree turn, the hood and the fact he couldn't move, he was truly disorientated. He thought back to Scott's advice and tried to remember what else Penelope had told him in the brief session they'd had when International Recue was starting up. He began re-ordering his paint store in his head, a task he was half way through when the hood was removed in a flurry and without warning.

Wincing against the bright white ceiling lights illuminating the room, he waited for his vision to adjust.

As his eyes corrected themselves, Virgil turned his attention to his surroundings. The room wasn't particularly large and he was indeed sat in a wooden chair, leather straps securing him to its frame. The only other piece of furniture was a plastic chair directly opposite him.

The Colonel walked around from behind him, her hips swaying in a casual, confident manner.

"You're an Engineer, Virgil." The opening sentence was unexpected and Virgil watched her warily. "I know John's technically the electronics expert," she continued, "But I'm sure you've had a few shocks in your time."

Virgil's eyes followed hers directly to his left and he realised that alongside him was a large battery, several wires snaking away from it. He'd had a few shocks in his time, alright; none of them pleasant experiences. The difference here was the anticipation. He tended to avoid electric shocks if he could foresee them coming.

She picked up the first electrode and attached it to a small clear pad, not dissimilar to the kind of contraption Brains used regularly during their physicals. He felt himself tense as she attached one at his left temple, then one at his right, and then systematically in the creases of his elbows and knees, the soles of his feet and the backs of his hands. He was sure she noted how taut his muscles were, his whole body rigid in anticipation despite his attempts to school himself to relax.

Her next move surprised him, when she slipped a cover over the third finger of his left hand and connected the wire to a monitor.

The sound of his own heartbeat could be heard, regular but far too fast to be considered normal.

"Virgil," she tutted as her eyes scanned the information on the screen. "Try to relax," she patronised. "This process will leave very few lasting marks but if you don't calm down, the current could permanently damage your heart muscles leading to ventricular fibrillation." A pause to give him time to digest this and respond had little effect. No amount of warnings would calm Virgil's pounding heart and the monitor continued to bleep at a relatively fast rate. "I'm sure given your career you know what's most likely to follows a heart rhythm of V-Fib…"

She trailed off as she flicked a switch to silence the machine, her eyes still studying whatever it was telling her.

Virgil felt like screaming at her. How could he possibly relax when he knew what was to be inflicted on him? He bit down on his lips in an effort not to make a noise and tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. Slow. Controlled. Just like Penelope had told him. Without the constant bleep, he could no longer gauge if it had an actual effect on his heart rate. It certainly didn't feel like it.

"Electric Shock is actually one of the easiest methods of Interrogation to withstand." The Colonel said suddenly. Virgil wasn't sure if that was meant to reassure him and if it was what, what exactly her motives were; was she warning him what to expect? Or was she using anticipation to heighten his apprehension? "Over 65% fail to extract any meaningful information." She was methodical in her work, checking the electrodes she'd already placed. "Maximum productivity comes from attaching electrodes to areas of the body most susceptible to hypersensitivity."

Virgil counted four left and realised he was running out of sensitive areas to put them without getting personal. If his breathing exercises had done any good at all, he was sure it was all undone as that thought crossed his mind.

The Colonel made quick work of pushing down the collar on his shirt, gaining easy access to his torso and attaching two more electrodes. As her fingers brushed against his skin, Virgil tensed, hands balling in to fists as he pushed back against both his restraints. The Colonel paused and seemed to take a moment to study his discomfort as if she was surprised by his reaction and it was prompting her to consider how to proceed.

She picked up the remaining two electrodes, a thoughtful expression flickering across her features as she placed them on the chair between his legs.

"I'll leave it to you imagination where these usually go," she tormented.

Virgil squirmed.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," she instructed as she picked up the switch and sat down on the chair: legs wide apart, boots level with the chair legs. "It's not conceivable for you to walk out of here without any physical marks, so I have to do this. I have no choice. But, I'll set it to the lowest level and discharge it once."

Virgil felt his eye's widening, he opened his mouth to clarify her humanity but soon closed it again as she continued to speak.

"After that, you're going to scream when I tell you," she directed. Any inclination towards humanity forgotten. "Loudly."

Virgil realised the apprehension could no longer be abated by thoughts of his paint store. This was really happening. Right now.

"And you're going to make it sound good," the Colonel carried on as she lifted her thumb and let if hover over the switch. "Because I'm not prepared to compromise my mission for you, particularly as you disregarded my warnings. So, I need those guards out there to believe I'm interrogating you and if you're not convincing enough for that, I'll have to do it for real." Leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her expression became sinister, her eyebrows drawn together. "Trust me when I say this Virgil: you really don't want that."

Despite all the instructions he'd received not to engage with his interrogator in any way, Virgil found himself nodding.

"Ready?" Her question filtered in to his hearing but before he had a chance to respond, his limbs were tensing, fingers and toes clenching out of control, nails clawing at the wood beneath. His muscles locked hard into a paroxysmal position, constricting to the point where it felt like they'd snap. Every nerve prickled, the sensation of a thousand pins and needles burning through his nervous system like some kind of wild fire as the heat of electricity raced through him to the nearest exit, taking his faculties with it.

It was over within seconds, but the guttural roar that came from somewhere deep in his chest lasted a lot longer.

His paint store was the last thing on his mind.