ELEVEN
"Jeez," Gordon gave a low whistle as he and Alan entered Thunderbird Two's service hatch. "I thought that guy was never going to leave."
He keyed in a code and lowered his face to the iris scanner as Alan chuckled.
"I know, right? Give the guy an International Rescue badge and he thinks he's saving the world. I was half expecting him to rip open that shirt and…"
Alan was cut off as Gordon suddenly raised a hand. They both listened to the sound of muffled voices on the other side of the reinforced steel.
"John should have been alerted to any intruders," Alan whispered.
"Shhh..." Gordon's hand moved to his sidearm.
"H'I wouldn't suggest h'otherwise, M'Lady."
Gordon immediately relaxed as he recognised the voice, even if it was a little contrite.
"I am telling you, Parker, I am quite familiar with this system, thank you very much."
Another voice Gordon was familiar with, even if this one was slightly irate.
"I'm doing everything in accordance with John's instructions."
At Gordon's press, the doors swung open to reveal Lady Penelope and Parker standing by the entrance door to Thunderbird Two's cockpit, deep in debate. The computerised banner above Parker's cap clearly flashed the words: Access Denied.
"Problem, Lady Penelope?"
"Gordon!" she pivoted elegantly and walked over to them. "No, no. I've never liked these biometrics readers. I did mention it to Brains at the time but …." She trailed off. "You're earlier than expected."
"That scooter was a good call; we made great time. Hey, Parker! We gave her a good send-off." Alan grinned in Parker's direction.
Unfortunately, Parker was distracted, entering a code into the biometrics reader on the door and then following through with his palm.
"Yeah, we just wasted about a half hour convincing the Agent outside we're bone fide operatives."
"Ahh." Penelope's blonde head nodded. "Mr Ross, yes. A very thorough man. I remember hiring him. Did you know he was the original …"
"Please proceed." The automated female voice chimed out, halting Penelope mid-flow.
"Well, I'll be…" she muttered. "Parker, how on earth did you do that?"
Parker just smiled ruefully, "H'It's h'a knack, M'Lady."
She nodded her gratitude as she walked passed him on to the flight deck, weapon at the ready. Alan followed her lead but Gordon sidled up to Parker. "Trouble with the biometrics?"
"It's that 'andcream of 'ers," Parker removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Plays 'avoc with the Security System at 'ome but she won't 'av it."
Gordon smirked as together, they followed Penelope and Alan.
"We've swept the entire craft, and found no evidence of any intruder or a struggle," Penelope was saying to John. "CCTV and imaging measures all seem tamper free."
"Okay."
Gordon noted his brother looked tense. Perhaps tense was the wrong word, everyone was tense, but this time he seemed even more stressed than before.
"What about external checks?"
"Yes, we've completed those," she said. "Unfortunately, there's been more rain here so any tyre marks have been eradicated. There's also been a lot of foot traffic and a few vehicles where the forces guarding the craft have changed over. We did find two sets of grooves which, in my experience, would be consistent with the dragging of a body." She realised what she'd just said as the atmosphere changed and quickly corrected herself: "Or person. It's impossible to be sure with the rain, any clues have been washed away I'm afraid."
"What's this?" Alan picked up a discarded, unsealed evidence bag, from the seat.
"Don't…" Penelope's warning was too late as Alan opened the bag and started to wobble where he stood, having inhaled the fumes. Gordon closed the distance between them in an easy stride and pushed his brother down on to a passenger seat, hand on top of his blond hair pushing his head down low.
"Whoa," Alan's pupils were large but already starting to correct themselves the more oxygen diluted the effects. Gordon took the bag, sealed it and discarded.
"Take a few deep breaths, Al," he instructed.
"That's strong stuff," Alan cleared his throat and rolled his tongue in front of this teeth. "Tastes of… Melon. Yuk. What is that?"
Penelope looked back to John. "We found it under the port wing, no CCTV coverage and hidden from satellite imagery. They were either very good or very lucky. We believe it to be Tetrochloride Acetate."
"Nasty," John murmured, acutely aware of the less than palatable use for the drug in date rape.
Gordon opened his mouth to comment but one look from John was enough for him to close it again.
"You think they were drugged, Penelope?"
"I think it would be a safe assumption. We haven't started a sweep of Thunderbird One yet. I didn't think it wise to separate."
John was nodding, "I agree. Perhaps you could do that now. But before you go there's something you should all be aware of."
The occupants on the flight deck all turned to face him with varying degrees of masked unease.
"The Woman's been in contact. She's requested medical assistance at the RV." John raised a hand to prevent the barrage of questions he knew would come his way. "We don't know any more. I've found an agent who's a doctor and he's willing to help. Trouble is he's on an aid mission in Somalia. Once you've checked over One Al, he needs a ride. I've already pre-programmed the co-ords. Obviously, we don't know how serious it is but I think he'd be more use than anything Yemen or Oman have got to offer."
"FAB."
"Penelope, you have about an hour and a half hour before the Covert Ops Team is with you. Dad's asked that you put together a brief for them and chase up Mossad and your contact in China," John relayed.
"I will call them again," she said and then paused to study him carefully. "How was your father, John?"
"He's…" John suffered a bout of hesitation. "I don't know, Penny … he's like the rest of us, I guess, distraught but doing his best to get on with the job."
Penelope nodded, unable to offer any other words of comfort.
"John…" Gordon began.
"I don't know any more, Gordon, I swear," John spoke over him. "If I hear anything else, I'll let you know. Thunderbird Five out."
Reminded of the gravitas of the situation, the previously cheery mood on the flight deck was now long gone and forgotten.
XxxxX
Virgil's eyes had closed long ago and Scott had relented in pestering his brother to remain conscious. Although there was a part of him which selfishly wanted Virgil to remain awake, Scott knew he had to consider that it would probably be best for his brother if he just drifted off to sleep.
The bolts on the door clanged open and Scott startled. His hopes were lifted when Virgil grumbled too at the sudden jostling.
"Easy," Scott whispered. "Someone's coming." He reached one hand to his hip where his weapon was concealed but he let his hand move back to its original position when the Colonel materialised.
"I wasn't sure if you'd come back," he said.
"Neither was I." Her reply was to Scott but her eyes never left Virgil "Yet here I am."
There were a few seconds of silence.
"I have a copy of the prints for the facility." The Colonel came to stand beside him and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. "I've marked where you are here." She unfolded it on the floor and knelt down to point to an X. "The vehicle is here. I haven't had a chance to fetch the keys but they're on top of the nearside front tyre." She pointed to another X. "You'll need to follow this corridor, turn right here and then follow this corridor to the end. This wall backs onto the outside of the complex. There' s a large mould of timed C16 on it so that should blow a decent sized hole for you to get through." Her finger ran along the line, following the path and tapped a few times on the point of exit.
Scott nodded, taking in her instructions and carefully studying the map, "Okay."
Delving into the other pocket of her combat trousers, The Colonel pulled out medical equipment and deposited it on the floor; syringes and bottles.
"Napraxomorph," she said, "It will help with the pain," Scott reached out to pick up the syringe but she stopped him with a hand to his wrist. "That's all I've got."
Scott examined it closer, "Only one shot."
"You might want to save it for later," she suggested.
Scott turned his attention to the other items.
"Medicone," she announced holding up another syringe. "Think expanding foam meets silicone. You'll need to get as close as you can to the bullet without moving it in order to get a good seal. We need to stop the bleeding, not allow it to gather in his abdominal cavity. Then pack the wound but not so much as to put pressure on his internal organs or …"
"I know what Medicone is," Scott interrupted with a snap.
"Then, what are you waiting for?"
The Colonel readied the syringe and held it out to him over Virgil's closed eyes.
Scott looked at her and then the syringe, suddenly hit by the realisation that his next move could either save Virgil's life or end it. Even a millimetre out would cause his brother untold pain. Not enough pressure meant Virgil could bleed to death internally. Too much pressure meant that the bullet would move further on its path of destruction and into Virgil's gut.
His hesitation spoke volumes.
"I …."
"Actually, it'd probably be best if I did it." The Colonel didn't force him to vocalise his uncertainties. "You're stronger and can hold him down. Is he conscious?"
Virgil didn't bother to move. "Just …. resting …. my eyes," he whispered out.
The Colonel gave a sharp nod, encouraging Scott to take position.
"Virg…" He cleared his throat eyeing the single shot of painkiller with remorse. "This is going to hurt like hell, but I need you to try to stay as still as you can, okay?"
"Mmm," Virgil mumbled.
Scott took his brother's wrists in his hands and applied his full body weight to hold Virgil down. He craned his neck to see the Colonel peeling away the blood soaked material around the wound and felt Virgil wince at her touch.
"Okay," the Colonel announced. "On three. One, two…" and with that she moved.
Virgil tensed, groaning with the effort not to scream out and instinctively pushing against Scott's constraints.
"Almost over, Virg," Scott was coaxing despite the Colonel's thumb pushing the syrup like substance into his brother's abdomen at a tediously slow speed. "You're doing great."
After what felt like an eternity of Virgil struggling to keep quiet, his eyes rolled and the tense muscles in his neck finally gave out.
Scott's reaction was only just quick enough to prevent Virgil's head from hitting the floor.
"Virgil?" Despite knowing that his brother had passed out, Scott was alarmed. "Virg?"
He flinched as the Colonel placed a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even realised she'd finished.
"He's out," she said. "The pain was too much. I'm impressed he lasted as long as he did." She pulled out another pack from inside her jacket. "This is a perfluorocarbon emulsion transfusion kit. It's concentrated but we'll still need to get a line in. I think it should only take about twenty minutes to run through so providing…" she trailed off when she realised she no longer had Scott's attention. "Are you listening to me? Are you okay?"
Scott sat back and felt the energy drain from him until he was sure that there was nothing left inside. But for the shaking sensation, he felt numb.
The Colonel whipped a hand across his face. "I said, are you okay?"
Scott swiped at his jaw, his focus returning. "What did you do that for?"
"You shouldn't be dehydrated." She reached for his wrist to take his pulse "And this is certainly not the time for exhaustion."
"Exhaustion?" Scott exclaimed, starting to pull himself together. "I'm fine."
"You look it." The Colonel fired back sarcastically but she didn't dwell on it. "The doors will blow at 2200. Be as far away as possible and as soon as the dust settles, go." She unclipped one of two watches on her wrist and held it out. "Take this to gauge the time."
Scott took the proffered timepiece. "We did have watches."
"Which were also transmitting a live GPS signal," The Colonel responded. "They've had a date with a vat of battery acid."
Scott didn't comment, ignoring her as he finished off the clasp.
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that your brother's condition will mean he can't get out under his own steam."
Scott was instantly defensive. "I'm not leaving him, if that's what you mean."
A flicker of a smile crossed the Colonel's features. "I wouldn't expect anything less. You are International Rescue. But we've just established you're bordering on exhaustion, have we not?" She gestured to his still-shaking hands.
"Adrenaline."
"I don't think so," she persevered. "But there is another way."
"Yeah?"
Her eyes strayed to the gun, then back to Scott to check he understood.
"No," Scott shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."
"It might be kinder," she pushed. "He's comfortable now. Properly done, I promise you, he wouldn't even feel it."
"I said no." A flash of anger in his eyes at the very suggestion.
"There's no shame in not wanting to do it yourself, I could…."
"I said no!" Scott rumbled. Realising his voice was getting louder and they may be discovered, he took a deep breath to control himself. "You put a bullet in him, the next one's got my name on it."
"If that's how you want it," she acknowledged with a nod. "Are you sure you can do this? Sacrifice yourself and possibly International Rescue's future for him?"
Scott leant forward, holding her eye contact and putting every ounce of strength and determination in to his words. "I'll do anything to get him out of here… alive," he vowed. "Whatever it takes."
"I admire your dedication but you have to be realistic. It will take you more time."
"So, buy me more time," Scott's reply was almost back on a par with the man who commanded International Rescue in the field.
The Colonel took a few moments to consider it and then nodded. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll think of something. The medicone will hold for now but only until he's moved. He'll bleed again and there's the danger that moving him will shift the bullet. You'll need to be as quick as you can." She picked up the pack she'd previously discarded. "Hold this," she instructed as she pushed up Virgil's sleeve and went about setting it up. "I've already requested medical assistance at the rendezvous from John."
Scott's gut tightened a little. He knew his family would have been worried sick before, but that bombshell would really crank up the tension on Tracy Island.
Having completed her task, the Colonel passed him another gun.
He found himself staring at it.
"Whatever it takes, you just said. Besides, it's one of yours," The Colonel turned it to show him the International Rescue insignia on the butt, the yellow background signifying it was Virgil's.
"Thanks." Duly taking it, Scott placed it with his own weapon.
"I must go."
With that Scott found himself alone with only the shallow rise and fall of Virgil's chest to convince him that they would ever get out of there.
XxxX
Gordon went through the, now customary, security features and walked into the cockpit of Thunderbird Two. He was in time to see the cockpits chair swivel just enough for his heart to skip a beat. In his head he knew his brother was being held against his will a hundred miles away from their current position but in his heart, for the briefest of seconds, he expected that chair to swivel around and reveal Virgil.
Sure enough the chair swivelled but the occupant was Lady Penelope.
Gordon tried to mask his disappointment.
"All checks on One are complete, nil found," he reeled off. "Alan's just left for Somalia. I couldn't get through to Base." He dropped down into one of the passenger seats. "Apparently, Dad's 'busy'. John's aware though." The chair alongside him was littered with pieces of paper and two open files, which he recognised as Scott and Virgil's medical files. He plucked a piece of paper at random, Scott's serious expression staring back at him from the top right corner. "Penny, what do you need these for?"
Penelope gave him her best poker face, "I am compiling a briefing on Scott and Virgil's physical scars and medical history. It may assist the team in identifying them."
Gordon wasn't naïve; he knew why Scott or Virgil might need to be identified through distinguishing marks such as scars or previous broken bones and none of the reasons were pleasant.
"Where's Parker?" he frowned, changing the subject.
Penelope checked her watch. "I sent him for some tea. That was a while ago."
As if on cue there was the sound of rattling tin at the door and muffled grumbling. Realising Parker was struggling; Gordon opened the door from the inside.
Nodding his thanks, Parker entered and set the tray down.
"I've been thinking about Plan B," Gordon spoke as Parker finally sat down and Penelope began to sip at her tea. "If this all falls through, we could use Thunderbird Two's heat image radar scan to fly over the complex. It would give us a more accurate idea of how many people were in there. Then, we'd know where to target a gas attack. Gas is the only thing I can think of that won't injure Scott or Virgil..." He paused as his thoughts turned morbid once more. "At least any more than they are injured already."
"We don't know what ground to air capabilities they have," Penelope countered. "Thunderbird Two could be under attack and I know Virgil might consider this concept blasphemy, but it's hardly the most manoeuvrable craft in the fleet."
Gordon had already thought of that and shook his head in dismissal, "Our thermal imagining radar is pretty powerful. I think we could do a sweep over at height and still get a decent image."
Penelope agreed. "Quite possibly, we don't need to have an army of people for that kind of assault, we just have to convince those inside the compound we do."
"Exactly," Gordon was pleased that she could see where he was coming from. "If we gassed out the whole thing, we could get in, find the guys and get them out."
"We'd have to be very specific with our gas missiles and ensure all those inside were unconscious. Obviously, a certain amount will be dissolved by the air, and be less effective. We're also making the assumption they don't have any capabilities to evade a gas attack such as breathing apparatus. We'd need to monitor the facility to ensure we attack at the optimum time; minimum number of people outside the facility."
"John could do that…" Gordon's words were cut off as Penelope's phone began to vibrate and play a tune.
"I do apologise, Gordon," Penelope's attention diverted to check the caller ID. "I must take this I'm afraid. It's my Mossad contact."
Gordon gave a quick nod of understanding, "You want me to leave?"
"No, it's quite alright," Penelope smiled at him. "But best to keep a low profile."
Before Gordon had agreed the request, she'd answered the call.
"Shalom, Maya."
"Shalom, Penelope," a female voice replied; her accent Middle Eastern but her spoken English was very clear. "I am sorry I have not called sooner. Things here have been very busy." There was a pause. "And I will admit to you, I have avoided calling you back."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Maya." Penelope responded calmly. "Dare I ask why?"
"Because, my friend," Maya's response came with a hint of trepidation, "I fear what you will ask and what I will tell you, may compromise us both."
XxxxX
Virgil opened his eyes to be met with the same grubby surroundings. An intermittent flutter of air tickled his jaw and he rolled his head as much as he could, to see his brother sleeping alongside him. Scott's facial muscles were relaxed, highlighting his drawn features but there was movement underneath his eyelids. The kind of erratic movement of someone who was far from peaceful, at odds with the rest of his expression.
All of a sudden, Scott's breathing changed and he wheezed in his sleep, his eyes opened just in time for him to dissolve into a coughing fit.
Virgil wanted to reach out to him, offer some gesture of comfort but he could only watch as his brother recovered.
"Sorry. Did I wake you?" Scott apologised. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay, I guess, not so cold," Virgil watched him critically, suddenly aware of how pale Scott was and how haggard he looked. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"You sound a lot better," Scott ignored the question and gestured to the discarded medical paraphernalia. "That PCFE transfusion and the medicone probably just saved your life."
"For now," Virgil was under no illusions about his own health but his concern was for his brother. "Scott, I need to know, if you're not …."
"It's not me we need to worry about. It's you." Scott briefly met his gaze before his eyes darted away in a telling sign. "We have until 2200 hrs then the doors will blow …."
"You look exhausted." Virgil attempted to interrupt again.
"Yeah, well," Scott mustered up a smirk. "You're not looking too hot yourself right now."
"If there's an opportunity for you to get out of here," Virgil ignored him. "I want you to promise me you'll take it."
"We'll take it." Scott cleared his throat but his chest shuddered again.
"No, you'll take it. Just…" Virgil started to take a deep breath and then grimaced. "Just leave me one of those." He lowered his head towards the two firearms by Scott's thigh.
Scott bit his lips together and shook his head. "Virgil, I'm done talking about this. We made a decision."
"You made a decision." Virgil corrected.
"Yeah well, I'm the damned Field Commander!"
Virgil raised an eyebrow at the sudden angry outburst, which was enough to prompt his brother into back tracking.
"I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry." Scott shuffled closer to him, almost touching. "I can't deal with this. We get out of here. Together."
Virgil watched Scott teeter on the brink of falling apart before he regained control of himself.
"What exactly did she do to you?"
"I told you. She faked it." The lick of the lips and the way Scott's vision wandered was all the evidence Virgil needed that he was holding something back.
"Scott…"
"Please Virgil." That same clipped tone. "Not now."
Scott needed to stay focused and Virgil was all too aware of that. He decided to file this conversation for use at a later date. He looked his brother in the eye and offered him a nod. "So long as you promise me you're okay?"
"I'm okay. We have about 45 minutes. We should only move at the last minute, I'll give you the painkiller shot but …" Scott trailed off and Virgil followed his gaze down to the damage to his chest. Neither needed to spell it out. "Moving's going to be ..."
"Yeah, I figured." Virgil had spent a long time considered exactly that.
"Do you think you can walk?" Scott asked.
One corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, Virgil attempted a smile. "I can try."
"Good."
He was pleased to see the gesture returned and that his words had buoyed Scott's spirit. It reassured him that Scott believed they actually stood a chance. Even if it was only words.
The positive silence was obliterated by noise outside.
Hurried footsteps outside and the 'thwack' of whooshing air through a silencer was heard before the tell-tale thump of a body hitting the floor. The same routine repeated a second time.
Virgil reached his hand to Scott's wrist and turned over the time piece attached there to reveal that there was still thirty-five minutes to go. Whatever was going on, it wasn't part of the Colonel's master plan. They exchanged a glance before Scott raised one of the weapons.
The tension mounted as the bolts on the door were pulled back with a measured pace, presumably to make less noise if the silencer was anything to judge by.
Virgil's gaze flickered from the door to his brother a handful of times as the last of the bolts were slid back. His attention turned to where Scott's finger had moved to the safety catch and flicked it off. By the time the door actually opened, there was a gentle pressure already applied.
As the Colonel entered the room and spied the weapon levelled at her, she came to a halt and squared her shoulders.
Virgil gasped in a breath and then groaned at the pain. Scott turned to him. "Virgil?
"I'm fine." Virgil pre-empted the next question. "You said 2200hrs."
"I did," The Colonel confirmed as she jerked her head towards Scott, "But then he said you needed more time."
"What about the guards?" Scott queried, using his teeth to pull the protective cap from Virgil's painkiller shot.
Virgil braced himself.
"I've dealt with it," she explained. Virgil saw her look directly at Scott and challenge his disapproving expression with a dramatic roll of the eyes.
"Scott," Virgil raised his arm a little, ready for any relief. "Come on…."
"He's right," The Colonel was urging. "We don't have much time, if Kasim finds me down here, he'll …"
Whatever she was about to say faded away to nothing as the shadow at the door spoke over her.
"Kill you?"