GORDON found himself deeply troubled. Even though he was not on Tracy Island and staying in the Creighton-Ward Mansion, he couldn't shake the guilt he had for causing the rift between him and Alan. It got so bad that on the first night of his stay, he was woken up following a nightmare of everyone else siding with Alan and Jeff evicting him from both Tracy Island and International Rescue.
Gordon woke up gasping for air and sweating heavily. He pushed back the duvet and practically fell out of the bed. He managed to stagger to his feet and get over to the window. He pushed it open so he could get some fresh air and let the cold air outside cool him down.
Penelope was awoken by Gordon's sudden exit from the bed and watched with concern as he stood by the window, partially concealed amongst the curtains. She turned on the light on her bedside table. "Gordon?"
Gordon emerged back into the room. "Oh…hey," he said. "I was hoping you didn't see me."
Penelope climbed out of the bed. "What's the matter?" she asked.
Gordon took some deep breaths to calm himself. "Ugh - I just had a nightmare that's all," he said.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Gordon hesitated, but decided to do so. "I dreamt Dad and the others decided to take Alan's side and they forced me out."
"Oh, Gordon," said Penelope, putting her arms around him. "May I remind you that your father would never let that happen to you?"
This made Gordon feel a little better, but he felt that the guilt he still had for hurting Alan was going to be sticking around for quite some time.
5!
4!
3!
2!
1!
"Thunderbirds Are Go!"
"SHALLOW WATERS"
GORDON felt rough the morning after. He barely had any appetite and could only manage a small amount of the breakfast he'd been given. Seeing him the way he was deeply troubled Penelope as well as her parents.
"I knew Jeff said that he wasn't in a good place, but it's far worse than I thought," said Patrick.
Patricia could more than sympathise with how Gordon felt. "As someone who has siblings myself, I can relate to what he's going through," she said. "Me and my sisters had our falling-outs, but we never got into the kind of state he's in, poor fellow."
"I wish I knew how to make him better," said Penelope.
Patrick sipped his tea. "What he needs…is a good distraction," he said. "Say like…maybe a drive in the country?"
"Music to my h'ears," said Parker as he cleared away some plates.
"Not so fast, Mr Parker," said Fiona, his carer. "You're not medically fit to drive anything."
"Rubbish!" snorted Parker. "I'm right h'as, rain. Aren't h'I, m'lady?"
Penelope wasn't sure how to answer, but before she could, Lilian Appleby the cook appeared from the kitchen, giving Fiona the perfect excuse to distract Parker and remove him from the dining room. "My sincerest apologies, your Lord and Ladyships," said Lil, "but I'm afraid we're running low on flour. I'll need to make a special trip over to the next town to get some…seeing as our local suppliers are no longer with us."
Gordon knew that she was referring to the fact that everything in the village of Creighton was no longer around. As he looked over towards the window, he could just see down the hill from the estate into the valley and the large crater where it had once been. If it weren't for the fact he'd seen it many times before, he'd probably never had realised there'd even been one there at all.
"Not to worry, Mrs Appleby," said Patrick. "We can always have your delicious apple pie tomorrow instead of tonight."
It was at that moment that Patricia had an idea. "Or…" she said with a wink to her daughter. "Penelope could go and get some from Old Mill."
"I could?" asked Penelope.
"Yes, indeed," said Patrick in agreement. "Then you can take Gordon with you and show him what it is like."
Penelope began to smile. "Sure," she said, glancing out of the window. "There's a bit of a breeze as well. Maybe the sails will make him forget about his troubles."
Gordon had heard everything they'd been saying, but remained rather confused by the whole thing.
Parker was just helping Fiona to put away the crockery in the cupboards when he heard the sound of a very familiar car engine being started. "H'Eh?!" he exclaimed and rushed to the window. He saw FAB1 outside moving round to the front of the house, with Penelope in the driving seat. "WAIT, M'LADY!" he cried and ran out of the room.
"Oh, for goodness sake!" cursed Fiona and hurried after him. "MR PARKER!"
Patrick and Patricia watched as Gordon climbed into the back of FAB1. "Enjoy yourselves," said Patrick.
"We will, Father," replied Penelope. "Comfortable, Gordon?"
"I, er, guess so?" replied Gordon.
FAB1 then started to head off down the drive-way, with Parker running down the steps from the main entrance trying to catch up with it. "M'LAAAAAAAAAAADY! WAIT FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
But FAB1 was already too far ahead and he soon ran out of breath and had to stop.
Fiona, Patrick and Patricia caught up with him. "Parker, my dear fellow," said Patrick. "You won't be able to drive again if you keep stressing yourself out."
"But she needs me, m'lord!" protested Parker. "I 'ave to protect 'er h'at h'all costs!"
"Penelope or FAB1?" asked Patricia. She'd meant that as a joke, but Parker's words got all jumbled and he gave in with a sad moan as Fiona started to lead him back towards the house.
"I hope you didn't mean that?" Patrick whispered to his wife.
"Of course I didn't," she replied. "I was trying to make him laugh. Clearly it didn't work." She looked back down the drive-way after FAB1 which had now disappeared from view. "They will be okay, won't they?"
"Of course they will, my love," replied Patrick. "Penelope survived for days all by herself when there was nobody to help her. And she's driven FAB1 before. They'll be fine."
The country roads were quiet. Very quiet. As Gordon observed the fields, trees and bushes, most of which still looked dead due to the harsh winter the country had had following the Rock Snakes attack, he kept expecting to see at least some animals, or even another car pass the other way. And yet, there was nothing.
"Where is everyone?" Gordon asked. "Don't you have any neighbours anymore?"
"Most were in the village," Penelope replied. "They all lost their homes, Gordon. I'm not sure if any of them will come back once the village has been rebuilt from the ground up. I live in hope though."
Gordon admired her optimism. He managed a small smile. "You know…this feels kind of weird."
"What? You sitting in the back alone and me in the front driving?" Penelope answered with a smirk.
"You read my mind," said Gordon. "Should I start calling you Emma Frost?"
Penelope giggled. "Well, you're no X-Man, are you, Gordon Tracy?" she replied.
They both laughed for a few moments. Then Gordon gave a small sigh. He was starting to feel a little better as he admired the scenery. Not all of it had fallen victim to the snakes' attack. "Haven't seen a single car on this trip so far," he said. "We must be the only ones out here."
"Apart from the one behind us, yes," said Penelope.
Gordon looked around and saw a silver Mercedes following them from a distance. "Huh," he said. "I guess that shows how much attention I'm paying."
They carried on for quite some distance, changing onto different roads and climbing hills. "Where are we going again?" Gordon asked.
"The Old Mill," said Penelope.
"Is that a pub?"
Penelope laughed. "No, silly," she said. "It's a Windmill. Thought you might like to see it."
"I've seen Windmills before, Pen," said Gordon. "I see hundreds of them either in fields or off the coast in the sea. Ugly-looking things if you ask me."
Penelope rolled her eyes. "Those are Wind Turbines, Gordon," she said with a smile. "This is a proper Windmill that we're going to. In fact, you should see it any second…now."
They turned another corner to head up a narrow country lane that FAB1 took up the whole space for. As Gordon looked up towards the top of the hill, he found himself taken by surprise at the beauty of the old-fashioned Windmill standing at the top.
Soon they reached the top and entered a small car park close to where the Windmill stood on its farm. Gordon got out of FAB1 and gazed up at the ancient building. The four white wooden sails creaked as they turned in the wind. It was quite a mesmerising sight. "Wow…" he said in awe. "I've never seen anything like this before."
"I'm sure you have, but most likely from a distance?" said Penelope.
"True…" Gordon replied. "Must have seen several when going over Holland."
The Miller then came out. "Lady Penelope! This is a surprise," he said. "What brings you here?"
"Hello, Joe," said Penelope. "Just showing a friend of mine around. We'd also like some flour if you have any available?"
"Of course!" said the Miller. "I'm about to do a fresh grind as we speak. Come in. you can watch the stones at work."
Gordon followed Penelope and the Miller towards the Windmill. But as he went, he just so happened to look down the hill towards the road where they'd come. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he could see the silver car, sitting at the gateway of a neighbouring field.
Having completed the tour of the Windmill and secured ten bags of flour for Lil, FAB1 headed back along the same route it had come back towards Creighton Manor. Penelope had noticed how much more cheerful Gordon appeared to be. He was sitting with the bags of flour, like he was protecting them with his life. She was observing him in the rear-view mirror, and it was at that moment that something caught her attention. "Gordon?"
"Yeah?"
"If you press the first button on your right, it'll show you the feed from the car's rear camera."
Gordon pushed the button and a holographic video image of the road behind them appeared. Gordon had been about to ask why Penelope was asking him to do it, but very quickly he realised why. He frowned. "Is it the same car again?" he asked.
"It looks like it," said Penelope. "Following at the same distance as before."
Gordon's eyes narrowed. "We're being spied on," he said.
"What makes you say that?"
"As we were going into the Windmill, I'm sure I saw it parked down the bottom of the next field," said Gordon. "I also had a feeling we were being watched. Which is exactly the feeling I'm getting now." He started to turn himself around.
"DON'T look!" Penelope said sharply.
"Why not?"
"Because if we are being followed, we don't want to let them know we're on to them," said Penelope. "We need to let them slip up."
Gordon felt uneasy. "I don't like this," he said. "Can we lose them somehow?"
Penelope looked at FAB1's dashboard. Then she checked the position of the car in the mirror. Once they'd rounded a bend and the car was temporarily out of sight, she pushed another button. Nothing seemed to happen, Gordon thought, but as he watched the image, the car came around the corner and then skidded to a stop. It did not set off again and soon they'd left it behind.
"Errrr…what just happened?" Gordon asked.
"I turned on the optical camouflage," said Penelope. "We're invisible to the naked eye." She then pulled FAB1 into another country lane and came to a stop. "And now…we wait," she said.
They waited for a few moments, watching the screen and rear-view mirrors. Then the silver car appeared again, this time zooming right past the end of the road and continuing along the one it was on. They briefly saw the figure of a man in black glasses inside the driver's seat, looking in their direction but didn't stop and kept going.
"So someone's after us?" said Gordon. "Cabal?"
"I doubt it's them," said Penelope. "I've made a lot of enemies as a secret agent, Gordon. I am always on my guard. You never know when danger will come up behind you."
Even though he'd known and loved Penelope for a long time now, Gordon realised just how little he knew of the dangerous life Penelope actually led.
Several miles off the Northern coastline of the tiny island of Malta right in the heart of the Mediterranean, a medium-sized fishing vessel was making its way Eastwards. It was called the St Georges, and it was one of many boats that sailed around fishing the waters around the island. But this one had a secret that hardly anybody knew about.
The deck was almost covered in fish, freshly caught and were being put into baskets by the crew ready to be taken back to shore for processing and selling to the restaurants and markets. One man had been on the deck towards the stern watching the fishermen working. He glanced at his watch and then headed inside the small superstructure towards the back of the vessel. He was dressed somewhat differently to the other men on the deck. Whereas they had dirty overalls for working with the stinky, smelly fish, this man had a dark green jumper and trousers - just like the soldiers in the GDF wore.
The man headed down some steps inside the boat to a sealed off area from the rest of it. It involved passing through the chiller where the freshly-caught fish was kept in icy conditions to make sure they didn't go off. At the back was a concealed door that could only be opened by a concealed eye scanner that only he and a couple of others on board knew about. The door unlocked and he went inside. Beyond the concealed door was a room full of other GDF personnel. They were busy at numerous radar and scanning equipment screens and he spoke to the officer in charge.
"What's it like up there?" the officer asked.
"Beautiful day," the man replied. "They're just bringing the nets in." He signed himself in and then went to another room that was hidden away from the main part. Inside was another man sitting at a strange-looking computer. The senior officer, Captain Mahoney, was there behind the man at his own desk.
"Afternoon, sir," said the man.
"Oh, hello, Mac," said the Captain.
Mac went to the man at the computer. "My watch," he said.
The other man was grateful. They exchanged places at the desk and Mac looked at the device in front of him. At the base of its monitor were the letters A.T.A.C. At the push of a button, a keypad rose up from within the desk and Mac began typing into it.
Up top, the Captain of the St Georges barked an order to the men down on the main deck to start reeling in the main nets which were draped out over the sides. The nets on the Port-side came in without incident, carrying a large catch to the delight of the crew. But the ones working the Starboard-side net had noticed some unusual resistance.
"WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?" the Captain shouted.
"RESISTANCE IN THE NET, SKIPPER!" one of the deck-hands called back. "WE'LL TRY AND-"
"MINE!" screamed another deck hand, pointing urgently over the side. "THERE'S A MINE IN THE NET!"
All the deck-hands came running over to the Starboard side and the Captain stared out from the bridge wing. All froze in horror at the sight of an old World War Two Naval Mine caught in the net being dragged towards them.
"CUT THE NET! CUT THE NET!" bellowed the Captain and punched a button on the control panel inside the bridge.
A siren began wailing throughout the entire vessel, alerting everyone that there was danger. Inside the concealed section of the ship, none of the GDF personnel had any idea why the siren was going.
"What the devil's going on?" demanded Captain Mahoney.
Then one of the radar systems began beeping urgently. "Where the hell did that come from?!" exclaimed an operator.
Nobody had a chance to process what the danger was until it happened. Despite their best efforts, the fishermen realised there was nothing they could do to prevent the inevitable. The Captain yelled for everyone to run and they did so, trying desperately to get away from the side of the vessel.
The mine made contact with the hull of the St Georges and despite its age, still proved to be deadly. It exploded, ripping a huge hole in the hull and causing water to gush in, right into the secret compartment deep inside the vessel. The GDF personnel didn't know what hit them as the water struck them with a huge force that sent them flying away deep inside the room.
"MAC!" Captain Mahoney yelled as he tried to hang on to a piece of equipment. "SET DESTRUCT ON THE AAAARGH!" He was carried away before he could finish.
Mac, who'd been clinging desperately to his control panel, pressed another button which lifted a flap with a red button marked 'Destruct' on it. He went to press it only for the force of the water to become too much for him to handle and he too was dragged away into the swirling deadliness of the flooding water.
Those not blown off the deck by the explosion were now frantically jumping overboard as the St Georges began to sink bow-first into the ocean. A plume of black smoke rose upwards for a short while before the water eventually put it out. The stern of the vessel rose upwards before it then slipped downwards beneath the waves, leaving a trail of wreckage and bodies on the spot where it had been a few minutes earlier. Whilst some of the ship's regular crew had managed to only just escape with their lives, nobody from the secret GDF team aboard had been so lucky. All ten of them were gone.
Colonel Jennings had had a tough morning. She'd been on the phone to several important people from different parts of the world who were requesting help from the GDF. After request number eight in a row, she was trying very hard not to lose her patience.
"Yes, I understand that, Mr President," she was saying. "I'll see how many of my soldiers I can spare to aid with your request. Thank you. Goodbye." After hanging up, she ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled heavily. "Damn world leaders and their requests," she complained. There was a knock at the door. "Come in!"
The door opened and Captain Thompson entered. "Colonel Jennings?"
"Yes, Thompson. What is it?" Her eyes then narrowed. "You better not have bad news for me?" she said, having noticed a look of concern on the Captain's face.
"Ahhh…I'm afraid so, ma'am," she said.
Colonel Jennings groaned. "Go on, what is it?"
"We've lost contact with the St Georges, Colonel," said Captain Thompson.
Colonel Jennings froze to the spot. "The St Georges?" she repeated. "The ship with the-"
"Yes, Colonel," said Captain Thompson. "Last recorded position was ten miles to the North-West of Malta. Tracking stations reported hearing an off-shore explosion and satellite footage confirms the vessel is no longer in the area."
"What about the crew and our team?" asked Colonel Jennings.
"Three survivors recovered from the sea," said Captain Thompson. "All the boat's regular crew. None of ours made it out."
Colonel Jennings cursed under her breath and brought up a hologram schematic of the St Georges. "That concealed section was designed so that nothing could get in or out unless opened specifically with the right codes," she said. "Those guys wouldn't have stood a chance. What sank it?"
"According to the survivors, it was an old naval mine," said Captain Thompson. "It got caught in the net as they were reeling it in."
"How unfortunate," said Colonel Jennings with sympathy. "Such a waste of good human life." She then turned to Captain Thompson and asked a very serious question. "How deep is the water there?"
Captain Thompson hesitated before answering. "Not deep enough…I'm afraid."