Uncovering Fiction

"How much longer?" Viktor Solokov asked as Parker guided FAB-1 in its fast hydrofoil mode across the placid Caribbean.

"No' much farther t' h'our list'ning post," Parker said, sighing internally. He had been showing Viktor the controls, teaching him as much as he possibly could about the vehicle in the time they had. The three New Providence agents had been suitably impressed by the Rolls when they met Parker at the designated beach, but they were even more impressed when Parker activated the third setting of the camouflage paint. In an instant, the stately silver car's color changed. It became a matte black, and its clear dome became more opaque and less reflective. "Ye'll be h'able t' see h'outsayde wivout h'any trubble," he had proudly explained. "But 'twill be 'ard fer sum'un t' see h'insayde. E'en so, ye should 'ope fer clouds."

Clouds they didn't get, but between the moon being nearly new and its position in the sky, the camouflaged Rolls was barely visible on the sea. Parker checked his instruments again, then slowed the car, keeping it on its hydrofoil supports so it glided quietly across the calm waters.

He turned on the radio, aware of two people shifting forward to listen. Peter and Brigitte sat in the back seat, and during the ride they had taken the time to get to know the ordnance they were carrying: standard issue IR pistols for Peter and a stun rifle for Brigitte. The Kevlar vests for each member of the stealth team lay on the floor in back, ready to be donned at a moment's notice.

"Naow, lessee wha' milady's earrin's haf t' say fer themselfs," Parker muttered as he fine tuned the control. Suddenly, they could hear Penelope's cultured tones saying, "... fine wine, Señor Alvarez. My compliments on your taste."

In the formal dining room of the Minister's hacienda, Alvarez smiled back at his guest. "Gracias, señorita. I am a connoisseur of wine, and find that wines from South America are often equal in quality to that of the French but sorely overlooked. My native Columbia has been garnering a growing respect for its wineries." He paused. "I hope you are enjoying the meal. The dishes are traditional in my country."

Penelope studied the large room. Though it was not as large as the banquet hall in her own ancestral estate, it was spacious, and the table, done in a simple but elegant Mission style, was large enough to hold two dozen people comfortably. She and Alvarez were seated at one end of the table, him at the head of the table and she to his right. Across the table from her was a Ramirez, who gave her a slight knowing smile and an incline of his head from time to time. And sitting next to her was a tall, handsome, muscular blond with an infectious grin and an odd, genderless voice.

"James Franks, ma'am," he had said as he introduced himself, holding out a hand for a firm shake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Alison St. Clair," she had responded with a smile. "And I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Franks."

She put down her glass, and picked up her fork. The meal had started out with conch fritters, called frituras de caracol, then progressed to the soup course, a rich avocado vichysoisse. The main entreé was sobrebarriga, a marinated flank steak. The steak was accompanied by arepa, small pancakes made from corn flour and cheese, patacones or fried sweet plantain, and rice, cooked in coconut milk. The cuisine, so different from what she was used to, was delicious, and she said so. She even went so far as to ask for recipes, though she envisioned with amusement what Lil would say when presented with them. Lil may try them once, but too soon they would get "lost" somewhere in the kitchen and never found again. However, Kyrano might find them interesting. I shall be sure he has a copy.

Virgil shifted on his piano bench, and stared at the music he had selected. He had wanted to lose himself in it, but somehow, he couldn't focus. He played a few bars, then stopped, shaking his head. He looked over toward Jeff, who was fidgeting a bit behind his desk. The older man looked up, and their eyes met.

"Father...?"

"Yes?"

"Any news from Lady Penelope?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, but it's still early evening over there. Parker called in to say he was in position and listening to the conversation at dinner. He's on the job, and will be able to step in if need be."

Virgil frowned. "Still, this is such a dangerous situation. Aunt Lucinda said that Franks would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and I'm sure these other men are the same way..." He let his sentence trail off.

There was a moment of quiet while Jeff contemplated Virgil's words. Then he asked, "What are you thinking, son?"

Virgil took a deep breath. "Well... I'd feel better if one of us were there, or at least nearby. To step in with some extra firepower. Or air cover should it be needed."

The father watched his son's face, so serious and worried. This behavior is so sudden and odd, unless... could it be? Could Virgil be... attracted to Penelope? That certainly would explain things. He spoke up and said, "You have a good idea there, Virgil. I'm none too comfortable with the situation myself. Perhaps one of you should be nearby... just in case."

It was impossible to miss the relief and hope on the musician's face. "I can get Thunderbird Two..."

Jeff cut him off. "No. Not Two. And not you. If we have an emergency call, we can function much better without One than without Two. And besides, if necessary, Scott could get nearly anywhere in the world in just a short time to join you at a rescue site." He leaned over and pushed a button on the house intercom. "Scott, please report to the lounge."

"Okay, Father," came the response from somewhere in the sprawling complex. "I'm on my way."

Virgil's frustration was almost palpable. Jeff could tell that his son wasn't entirely pleased with the decision. He wants to be the one to rescue Penelope should she need rescuing, Jeff realized. I can understand and even sympathize with his sentiment, but we need him back at base. I hope I can make him realize that.

Scott strode into the room, wearing workout clothes and looking sweaty and disheveled. "What's up, Dad?"

Jeff indicated he should sit down, and Scott did as he was bid. "As you know, Lady Penelope and Parker are on assignment in the Caribbean. It's a very dangerous assignment, and although Penny has our New Providence agents there for backup, I'd feel better if one of you boys were nearby to provide some extra firepower. Since Thunderbird One can make it to any Danger Zone in just a short time, and we absolutely have to have Thunderbird Two here in case of an emergency rescue, I'm sending you out to lend a hand if it's needed. Virgil had a good idea about Penelope needing possible air cover. You're to provide it."

Scott glanced from father to brother and back again, a bemused expression on his face. "F-A-B, Father. Any specific coordinates? Any equipment I should take?"

"Check with Brains and see how far he's gotten with those visors. Take the baseball cap, gloves, and don't forget your hands-free communicator. I'll give you coordinates once I check with Alan. We'll need a suitable place for you to land nearby, but one where you won't attract attention. Not an easy task. For now, see Brains then get airborne."

"Right, Father," Scott said smartly. He stood and headed out of the room via the study. Virgil glanced over at Jeff, whose attention was diverted as he activated transmission with Thunderbird Five, then got up to follow his brother out. "Scott! Wait up!"

The eldest Tracy son stopped on the stairs to the lower level and waited for Virgil. They fell into step as Scott made his way to the elevator that would take him to the underground monorail, and eventually, Brains's lab. He gave his sibling a keen glance. "Okay, Virge. Spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Why you came up with the idea that Penelope might need air cover. You don't usually think in terms of military strategy; you leave that up to me, or Dad, or even Gordon. So, why are you starting now?"

Virgil took a deep breath, then let it out in a huff. "I'm not." He made a frustrated motion with his hands and gave his head a swift shake. "At least..." Interrupting himself, he looked Scott in the face and caught his brother's gaze. "I... I just think that Penelope's in over her head this time, that's all. This is a ruthless group she's up against, even worse than those crazies on the Riviera, and she's on an island with them, for God's sake! FAB-1 may be able to outrun anything on land, and give any powerboat or hydrofoil a run for its money on the water, but it's vulnerable to an air attack. One good strike with a missile and, boom! No more FAB-1!" He raised a hand to run through his chestnut hair as they stopped before the elevator. "I'd rather be out there myself..." His voice trailed off as he saw Scott gazing at him intently.

"You'd rather be out there yourself?" Scott shifted his position as he stood, leaning closer to his brother, lowering his voice. "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were... hot for Lady Penelope."

Virgil smiled weakly and gave Scott a playful punch in the shoulder. "Well, you do know better, don't you? Alan's the one who really has the hots for her and that's only in his dreams."

Scott snorted a laugh. "Yeah, and if Tin-Tin knew about some of those dreams, she'd make him want to go to Thunderbird Five and stay there... indefinitely."

The two laughed together, then Scott stepped into the elevator. "Look, I'm fond of Penny, too. I wouldn't want to see anything bad happen to her. So I'll do my best to keep FAB-1 in one piece. You can tell that to Father, too. I'm sure he's even more worried about her than we are."

Virgil glanced upward, as if looking at the lounge, then brought his gaze back down to meet Scott's and nodded. "You're probably right about him. Just be careful yourself, okay?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Hey, that's my line!" Raising a hand in farewell, he said, "See you later, Virge."

"Later, Scott."

The doors closed, and Virgil sighed, then turned away. I can't go back up to the lounge, not now. I'd be too antsy. Maybe a good workout or a swim would help. Then when my head is clear again, I can check with Dad on Penelope's progress. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked off in the direction of the upper level and his room.

Once the doors had closed and the elevator activated, Scott leaned back against the opposite wall, arms crossed and a thoughtful look on his face. He can't hide it, not from me. Virgil's in love with Penelope, or at least, he thinks he is. What a mess there would be if Dad found out! There's always been the unspoken understanding that Dad and Penelope are... a couple. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. Well, we'll have to deal with it later. Right now, I have a mission.

Parker was getting antsy, and so were his companions. They were all listening carefully to whatever was going on, waiting for some sign, any sign, of trouble. The conversation was interesting enough, and it became clear to the eavesdroppers that Jim Franks was there on the island, a fact that Parker was itching to report to Mr. Tracy. But he didn't want to miss any of the broadcast, being of the opinion that he and he alone could tell if his employer was in danger just by what she said. So it was with irritation that he answered the call on his little-used telecomm watch.

"FAB-1 from Five," the youthful voice of Alan Tracy called. "Come in, FAB-1"

"This h'is FAB-1. Go h'ahead."

"Base wants an update, Nosey."

" 'Ey! Wotch 'oo yer callin' 'Nosey', young man."

Alan chuckled. "It's better than being called, 'Hey, you!' isn't it?" He paused then repeated, "Base wants an update."

Parker muttered under his breath, and Alan pretended he didn't hear. "H'Our... ahem... h'operative h'is h'insayde, 'avin' dinner. Th' subject h'is h'on th' h'ayland."

"F-A-B, FAB-1. Base wants me to inform you that aerial backup in enroute to your position. However, we need a discreet place for him to land. Do any of the operatives with you know of such a place?"

Brigitte and Peter exchanged glances, as Parker and Viktor did the same. Viktor shook his head, and Parker looked back at the other two. Brigitte shrugged, but Peter looked thoughtful. "You don't want to have him in the city; there'd be too much risk of exposure or comment. But some of the ambassadors and other officials own property around here. Perhaps one of them might be amenable..."

"An' Ay fink Ay know chust th' one," Parker said. "FAB-1 t' Foive. Th' Pink Lady 'as h'a frien' in th' gov'ment. Name o' Add-ee-son Kenn-ee-cot. She's one o' th' representatives from Great Britain an' she's h'an h'ole school friend o' th' Pink Lady."

"F-A-B, FAB-1. I'll notify base. They'll probably have the remaining operative in Unity City get in touch with her," Alan said. "Anything more from the Pink Lady?"

Parker glanced at Viktor again, who had been listening intently. "Dessert is being served."

"Th' meal h'is h'almos' h'over," Parker relayed.

"Acknowledged. I'll update base. FAB-1 from Five, out." Alan's face disappeared.

Cheeky! Parker thought as he turned back to listen to the dinner conversation.

"The vidphone, madam," said the maid as she entered the dining room

Addison Kennicot sighed. "Who is it, Marie?"

The maid frowned. "I don't know, madam. They did not appear on the ID, and chose voice only. But they say it's urgent."

Addison looked at her two sons, who gazed back at her, their meal interrupted. She sighed heavily, then rose from the table. "Continue eating, children. I will return shortly."

As she made her way to the study that doubled as her home office, Addison had a fleeting wish that her husband had not died so suddenly, and moreover, that she had not run for his office in the World Senate. But he had such strong ideas and dreams for the world's governing body, and she could not stand to see those plans abandoned because his forceful leadership was gone. So she had run in his place, and won the election, and now... now she was learning how difficult life was for those in power. There's no time for family, she mused as she sat down in front of the vidphone and took the call.

"Addison Kennicot here. Who is calling?"

The voice on the other end was feminine, and sounded mature with a hint of the islands to it. "My name is not important, but I represent International Rescue."

"International Rescue?" she asked in shock. "Why are you calling me?"

"You were recommended by one of our operatives."

Addison sat back in her chair. "May I ask who the operative was?"

"I cannot tell you that. But you were highly recommended."

"Hmph. What do you want with me?"

"We have need of a discreet landing site for one of our craft, for just a few hours, somewhere near the Exumas. I am calling to ask if you know of anyone who might oblige us?"

The representative sighed. "Well, I myself own a small bit of property on one of the cays... but I'm not sure if it will be what you need. It has no runway..."

"We need none. Just a flat place to land where we would not draw attention."

"Well, then, my property would do," Addison said. She took a long breath in and let it out slowly, making her decision. "And you are free to utilize it."

"May I have the coordinates?"

"Yes. Just a moment." She reached over to open a drawer, and pulled out a folder. "Here they are." She read them off to her mysterious caller.

There was a pause on the other end, then the voice returned, sounding pleased. "Excellent. I thank you on behalf of International Rescue for your help, Ms. Kennicot. Have a pleasant evening." The call disconnected before Addison could say another word.

In a slight daze, Addison got up and returned to the table. Her eldest son, a slight eight-year-old, looked up at her through his glasses. "Who was that, Mummy?"

Addison shook her head as she sat down. She smiled at him, and said simply, "Someone who needed my help."

The denizens of FAB-1 looked up to see Thunderbird One streaking across the sky as it proceeded in a westerly direction.

"Looks layke our backup 'as h'arrived," Parker said quietly. The dinner was over and, from the conversation, Lady Penelope was now in Alvarez's office.

She was sitting in a comfortable leather chair in the tobacco-scented room, studying the man who sat across the desk from her. She had handed him the sealed folder, but instead of opening it by pressing his thumb to the security lock, he put it aside. He looked back at her frankly, then, as if sitting galled him, he got up and paced over to the window. The view of the sea was obscured by the darkness, and only that vegetation which was lit by the outside floodlights showed as he gazed out the window.

"Ms. St. Clair," he began. "Let us be candid with one another. You are not here to arrange security for the Prime Minister's visit."

Penelope's only outer reaction was to frown, but inside, her heart skipped a beat. "I do not know what you mean, Your Excellency. I am here to do the Prime Minister's bidding."

Still looking out at the night he shook his head. "I can only guess at your true intention, but I can see that you have employed an elaborate ruse to penetrate my defenses, and come here to my island." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I have looked into your past and your present, and the conclusion I have come to is that you are not who you claim to be. You are not Alison St. Clair."

Another skipped beat, but she kept her outward cool. She stood to approach him. "But Your Excellency, my bona fides can be established easily if you would open the file I handed to you."

She could see a smile cross his face in the reflection from the window. "I cannot open that file. Just as I cannot return to Unity City... yet. My plans are not yet come to fruition. But soon... soon." He sighed, then suddenly he turned. "As for you, you will find it much harder to leave than you anticipated... Lady Penelope."

There was a gasp from the speaker and matching gasps from the people in FAB-1 as the Minister made this proclamation. Parker shushed his co-conspirators and they listened as Penelope whispered, "No... not you. It cannot be..." Her words trailed off and there was a loud thump as if something had fallen.

Parker's face turned white. "No! NO! Not milady! Milaaaady!"