SIX
Scott had absolutely no clue how long it had been since Virgil had been taken from their joint cell. The sun was still in the sky and the shadows cast by the bars on the small window had moved a little, but without further information about their geographical location he could guess, at best, a couple of hours. He wondered how much longer it would take, wondered if they'd even bring him back to the same cell, wondered if he was even alive…
Jolted from his morbid thoughts at the sound of movement, Scott took renewed interest in the heavily secured door.
Two guards entered, manhandling a third person Scott could only assume, and to a certain degree hope, was Virgil.
Scott clenched his jaw and subtly moved his hands to underneath his thighs, resisting temptation and reducing automatic response to assist his brother. Instead, the only parts of Scott to move were his eyes. He watched with the intensity of a hawk as the guards gave Virgil one final rough shove to the centre of his back and he stumbled further in to the cell. With his hands still secured behind his back and no doubt disorientated from the hessian hood still covering his head, he fell hard to his knees.
One of the guards said something in a foreign language that caused the other to laugh. Scott didn't understand the comment but he knew the tone; the joke was clearly at Virgil's expense.
As the joker fastened Virgil's ankle to the wall and cut the tie holding his hands, the other turned to Scott.
"You next, yes?" he smiled menacingly.
Scott didn't grace him with a reply but he glared them into submission. And, having removed the bag covering Virgil's head, they departed.
Scott's attention immediately went to his brother. He took in a breath with the intention of speaking, but Virgil beat him to it.
"I'm okay, Scott."
Scott watched as Virgil screwed his eyes closed tight and tilted his head back before letting out a controlled breath.
"I'm okay." Opening his eyes, Virgil repeated the sentiment but this time with his usual calm, collected tone. A fire extinguisher to Scott's over-active imagination.
Scott found his attention drawn to Virgil's right hand which was shaking as if he had a trapped nerve. "Electric?" he guessed.
Virgil grunted out a noise which Scott presumed to be confirmation. He scuttled closer.
"Take it easy," he said softly as Virgil groaned and tried to push himself up into a sitting position. "Here," Scott offered a helping hand to the elbow until he was satisfied that Virgil was as comfortable as he could be. He spied the red marks on Virgil's temples and reached his hand to Virgil's chin, tipping his brother's face away from him. "Did you pass out?"
Virgil hissed when Scott's fingers made contact with the injury. "No," he grumbled, allowing his eyes to close.
"Where did they take you?"
"I don't know."
"Did you go outside?"
"I don't know."
"Through any doors? How many?"
"I don't know."
"Think, Virgil." Scott was insistent. "I need to know what we're up against here. Concentrate."
"I'm trying!" Virgil snapped, his eyes suddenly open, wide and angry.
Scott faltered at the tone of voice his brother used. Deep down he knew this would be especially hard for Virgil.
"I…" Virgil took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Scott. I just…. I can't think straight. I feel exhausted." He suddenly grabbed at his shaking hand with enough force to warrant the slap of skin on skin contact.
"It'll pass," Scott reassured him. He moved so that he was sitting alongside his brother, against the wall. "Your muscles are in spasm. It won't last long."
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Scott knew he didn't need to vocalise that whatever Virgil could tell him might help him to withstand his own bout of interrogation.
"We didn't go outside," when Virgil finally spoke, it seemed loud against the quiet. "We were alone. Same floor." He swallowed. "I didn't tell her anything." Another pause. "She didn't ask."
Scott's eyebrows drew together in confusion, his eyes asking questions his mouth didn't dare.
"One shock," Virgil gulped. It made no difference. His mouth felt rough and tasted of salt, his thirst was endless. "She faked it."
"One shock?" Scott asked. "That's all?"
Virgil let his head roll against the wall in an uncontrolled motion towards Scott, lips quirking with contempt, "One was enough." He held out his hand again as if to prove the point.
"How do you feel now?" Scott reached out to his brother's wrist, checking his pulse point under the guise of examining the small red mark there. "Any palpitations?"
"No. Just tired," Virgil replied drowsily. "And sore," he shuffled, grimacing a little and shaking his right hand free only to slap his left hand into it again to stop the shaking. He looked across at Scott, studying him for a moment. "And, worried about what the hell she's going to do to you."
"Don't worry about me," Scott managed a smile. "I can handle her."
Virgil thought that was perhaps a bit overzealous but he didn't comment, instead casting his mind back to when he'd been removed from the room. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Two, maybe three." Virgil paused; then realised Scott might not be following his logic. "Doors."
"Locked?" Scott felt a little safer to question this time.
"No," Virgil yawned, allowing his grip on his hand to slacken. "Wait, yes. At least one was locked, I heard keys." He frowned. "You're not thinking about trying to escape are you?"
"I'm keeping my options open," Scott said softly.
"I thought you trusted her?" Virgil's eyes closed again and he moved his shoulders against the wall, as if to get comfortable. The fatigue was really kicking in now.
"I did," Scott agreed. "Until I found out she was an interrogator working for Kasim Templar," he shrugged, aware Virgil wouldn't have seen the action. "Now I'm not so sure." He eyed Virgil, calculating his responses. "You?"
One side of Virgil's mouth pulled up in the corner and his face expressed his indecision even with his eyes closed, "She could've made my life hell. She didn't." He ground out. "Right now, that's good enough for me."
XxxX
"Tracy One is ready for flight, Mr Tracy. Tin-Tin announced as she entered the lounge. "I'm just…."
She trailed off when she realised the level of activity in the room.
Brains was sat on one of the sofas, palm held computer resting on his knee with Gordon leant against the back of it, peering over his shoulder. "Th-there!" he suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the screen.
"Thunderbird Five, can you confirm that?" Jeff looked to John's image although the blond son in question was turned away from the feed.
A few moments passed where John just concentrated on his task but eventually he turned to face the room's occupants. "That's affirmative," came his reply.
Tin-Tin felt confused, she shot Alan a questioning look, not wanting to disturb anyone else from their tasks.
Alan responded: "Brains has picked up an intermittent transmission signal coming from an old ruined fortress in the Buh Al Kabir Desert, it started registering activity about the same time Scott and Virgil went AWOL."
"Satellite imagery appears to show the same activity is coming from the mountain town of Balesk, just inside the border with Saudi Arabia too," John was reporting. "I've not seen anything like this though. The signals are heavily encoded."
"Some k-kind of err m-message," Brains hypothesised, distracted.
"I may be able to shed some light on that," Penelope's soft, lush tones came across the airwaves as she appeared from the live image streaming in to Tracy Island. "I'm afraid there's no improvement in so far as any of my own sources but I've followed a few other avenues of enquiry. I'm afraid I've got nothing concrete; the information coming through is unreliable at best so I will offer that caveat before I start…." She looked to Jeff to ensure that he understood what she was saying, "… but I believe I have some indication of the brief given to the agent in deep cover and also their identity, Sam..."
"Samantha!" John exclaimed, butting in.
"Samuel," Penelope finished, correcting John's inaccurate assumption. "Samuel Morton, I don't have a clear understanding of where his orders originate but the last record I can find of his existence suggests he was a Surveillance Officer for the CIA. There's some talk of him being seconded to the World Security Council but obviously I can't corroborate that until someone from the WSC actually communicates with me. He may be the agent the World Security Council referred to. The Council would oppose direct action in Yemen so, if they are authorising this business, his brief would be surveillance and reconnaissance only. I'm confident the subject is Kasim Templar. His is the only subject of remote interest for miles. Morton's observation post is fifty miles from Tehbna, Oman where the Danger Zone was located, a place called Qu'Lak in the Buh Al Kabir desert…."
"No way!" Alan exclaimed. "Brains… show them what you found."
"Hold on a second, Alan," Jeff interrupted. "Go on, Penelope."
"Morton thinks that there's a team of about fifty soldiers inside this complex. Yesterday, two men dressed in blue were taken captive in a green Toyota and this morning, an individual known as the Colonel, a feared interrogator, was reported to have arrived."
Tin Tin's eyes welled but she blinked furiously.
Penelope was astute enough to pick up the influence those words had on the atmosphere in the Tracy Island Lounge. "I believe this to be a positive sign that the boys are still alive, Jeff," she pointed out.
To Jeff, it was a reminder of just how questionable that was. Raising both hands to knead his temple, he tried not to think about it; the alternative was unconscionable. "Can this Sam Morton offer us any assistance, Penny?"
"Doubtful I'm afraid," came the reply. "His orders would be recon only. Any action would confirm his existence. I also have a few concerns that to formally request assistance we'd have to compromise my source which, given that it's the only source I have communicating with me currently would be a terrible shame." She trailed a pink fingernail down the side of her face, pushing aside strands of wayward blond hair. "I rather think involving him would create more problems than it would solve."
"I'm not surprised," John added to the conversation. "I didn't think Yemen was part of the World Council." But his tone indicated that he knew darned well that it wasn't.
"It isn't," Penelope confirmed. "This is another reason why I would suspect the orders are for recon only. If the authorities in Yemen knew that an operation was ongoing within their borders, whether the CIA are acting independently or on the direction of the WSC …"
"Good God," Jeff heaved out a sigh. "Haven't we seen enough conflict over the last few days in Kelmayalfa."
"Well, that's probably why Templar's gone to ground there," John commented, aware that he didn't need to point that out to his father. "Yemen's supply of Vorva comes through the dessert via Quatar and then through Saudi Arabia. What with the desert and the Gulf, they're pretty reliant on the supply of Vorva for energy. I'm guessing they'll want to stay pretty neutral in all this. Taking sides would be a gamble they can't afford to take and they're going to have to do business with whoever takes control." He paused. "Tamplar's found a pretty good hiding place."
"We don't know what Yemen's stance on all this is," Gordon added in, from his place alongside Brains. "I mean, sure their defence capabilities aren't particularly strong but do they even know what's going on down there?"
"We can't prove anything's going on down there, yet," Jeff pointed out. "All we've got is some transmission we can't identify and the contents of the Intelligence Community rumour mill." He turned his head towards his space bound son. "We're still no closer to identifying the woman and we still don't know her motives. John, has she been in touch?"
"Negative, Father," John replied, disappointment written all over his face.
There was a brief silence across the airwaves and the tension cranked up a notch in the Tracy Island Villa. Everyone present was hoping that wasn't some kind of evidence that the woman had failed.
"Okay, lets regroup." Jeff heaved a sigh. "What have we got?" he looked around the room at the occupants and then to the two live feeds. There was a distinct lack of response. "What do we know?" he clarified. "For sure?"
"For sure?" John took the lead. "That Scott and Virgil aren't where they should be; that Kasim Templar broke out of jail and that the whole world's on the brink of World War Three."
"Putting it like that," Gordon begrudgingly pointed out, "that's not a whole heap to go on."
"We have intelligence to suggest that Kasim Templar has a grudge against International Rescue," Penelope reported. "That he has means and motive to act on that. The timing of his escape fits with a theory that Scott and Virgil are in Qu'Lak and we have reason to believe Templar is under surveillance there."
"The err… green Toyota…." Brains spoke up for the first time. "Do we err…. H-have any more err… in-information about that?"
"Negative, Brains," Penelope replied. "I can attempt to do some more digging if necessary."
"The Satellite imagery we picked up from Tehbna showed a green Toyota," Tin-Tin filled in, picking up a palm sized computer from the desk. Her fingers danced across the screen efficiently. "There were a number of cars but this was one was of interest because it was driving off at speed from the Danger Zone." She then pointed the computer to the screen on the opposite side of the desk where the image appeared.
"Licence plates?" Alan asked.
"No," Tin-Tin was shaking her head. "It's an impossible angle."
"Identifying features, Tin-Tin?" Jeff queried.
"Possibly a red front wing," Tin –Tin moved across to the screen and played the footage. A green Toyota was making off from the Thunderbird Two's port wing, a dust cloud ensuing. "Here," Tin-Tin froze the image and pointed to what looked like a red blob. "It's not much to go on, at maximum amplification, the pixels are blurred."
"I can cross check that with eye witness reports from Tehbna," John suggested. "And then pull imagery from Qu'Lak to see if I can identify the same vehicle. If we can confirm it's the same one, at least it firms up Penelope's reports."
"Agreed," Jeff replied. "Do that, John."
John's attention turned to the resident scientist, "Brains, can you get me a projection for the time frame it would've taken to get from Oman in to Qu'Lak and, possibly the route they'd most likely take?"
"FAB, J-John," Brains responded.
"I have a contact in the Presidential Guard in Yemen," Penelope divulged. "I haven't been in touch for a while, but I can try to make contact. I'll approach anyone I can think of in the neighbouring countries." Her eyes looked to Jeff as if trying to convey something she couldn't articulate. "I have a few of my own theories I'd like to follow up too but I'll report back directly to you on completion."
"Thanks, Penelope," Jeff gave a brief nod, acknowledging the unspoken request for his lone council.
"England, Out," she responded as her image flickered back to her portrait.
Jeff turned his attention to the occupants of the room, specifically to Tin-Tin, "You ready to leave?"
"Yes, Mr Tracy," She nodded and saw in her peripheral vision that Gordon and Alan were getting to their feet.
"Good, keep in touch," Jeff ordered. "Brains will send on the co-ordinates for the drop, Your GPS guiders have been pre-programmed with the route to take to get to the craft. Penny will RV with you there. Remember, we have very little information about what the hell's going on out there so keep your wits about you and trust no-one. We don't know how Scott and Virgil were overpowered. You could be walking right in to the same trap." He was slightly concerned to see the fire of excitement suddenly flicker across Alan's features, as if maybe he was actually looking forward to this, but quickly told himself that his youngest just needed something to do to aid his brothers. Looking to Gordon, he was reassured by the serious, steel glint in his son's eye, reminding him so much of Scott, "For God's sake, be careful out there."
"FAB," Gordon and Alan chorused as they joined Tin-Tin and headed towards the hangar that housed Tracy One.
"Father," John's voice came from the screen and without looking, Jeff knew that his son was about to question him. He had always encouraged them to voice their opinions and liked to think that his position at the Head of International Rescue was synonymous more with democracy than dictatorship.
"Are you buying this?" John queried. "The World Security Council agreed to let someone as high profile as Kasim Tamplar walk out of jail? I mean, come on!" He shook his head. "They've been chasing this guy for nearly a decade, I'm not convinced any of them would ever agree to letting him see daylight again. Not without some serious opposition."
"I know," Jeff acknowledged. "But we can only work on what we have, John."
John hesitated. "Are you sure about this, Father?" No matter how much his father welcomed being challenged, questioning someone as authoritative as Jeff Tracy was not a pleasant experience. "The woman said she'd be in touch. Maybe we should give her a chance? It would give us time to formulate some kind of plan too. Scott trusted her enough to give himself a few sleepless nights over what she'd said to him."
Jeff's head dropped, "I can't, John," he admitted and John's heart clenched at the despair in the air. "I can't sit here and do nothing. I don't need to remind you what Kasim Templar's capable of inflicting on his prisoners," He felt goose bumps break out down his arms. "We have to act."
"You don't think I feel the same?" John wasn't accusing, but he knew he could be frank with his father when they were alone like this across the airwaves. "But we could be putting the Organisation at additional risk of being compromised. If we act now and what she said was true, she could have gotten them both out by the time we're on the scene." He paused. "How do you think Scott and Virgil are going to react if we rescue them, only to have to pack up the whole operation afterwards?"
Jeff was reminded of the animated discussion that had occurred in the boardroom a few days ago. "John, we both know that's a very real possibility regardless of what happens next." He talked out the alternative, "If we do nothing, and she fails, we aren't in a position to help Scott and Virgil. We need to be prepared, having Gordon and Alan in Tehbna gives me piece of mind that the craft are secure. It also puts them in a better position to offer assistance in Qu'Lak should the need arise."
"You do definitely intend to … act, then," John studied his father's image carefully trying to determine every line across his forehead, every muscle twitching around his jaw.
"If necessary," Jeff confirmed.
"Dad… " John tried to adopt a softer approach. "The last thing I want to think about is Scott and Virgil hurt." He didn't add on any other of the plethora of possibilities. "But if International Rescue is seen entering Yemen and using force…."
"I don't care about politics John, I care about you boys," Jeff's response was firm. No doubt and certainly no room to question or appeal. "Kasim Templar wants International Rescue's technology and he'll get it," Jeff ground out. "He'll get the full force of it."
"Father…" John was distracted by something on his right. "Wait figures two, unidentified call sign," he could be heard to say off-screen. "Base, I have an incoming call."
"FAB. That's received Thunderbird Five, Base standing by," Jeff returned. He left the line open his end so as he could hear at least John's side of the conversation.
"Line clear unidentified call sign. This is Thunderbird Five receiving you, strength five, go ahead."