Tragedy's Aftermath

Virgil paced in the cockpit of his 'Bird, secreted in the same huge hangar as Thunderbird One. The night sky was beginning to show signs of brightening into dawn, but neither he nor John could see it from inside the cavernous building.

"I hope Scott gets back here soon with Penelope," he said as he paced. "We need to be off these premises before daybreak."

"I'm sure he will be, though how he's going to be able to pull himself away from Peter when he's in such grave condition, I don't know," John remarked, shaking his head both at the idea and at his brother's hyperactive movement.

"It may be easier than you think," came a third voice. Both men turned to see Brigitte hesitantly enter the cockpit. John had offered her the shower facilities of the crews' quarters and she had accepted. She was wearing the same dirty clothes she had worn all night, and was wringing dry her long blonde tresses. As the men watched, she neatly tucked her locks up into a turban she created from the towel in her hands.

John got up to offer her his seat. "I don't think we were properly introduced, though Penelope told me your name. I'm John, and this is Virgil. You're Brigitte, right?"

She smiled at him as she sat down. "Yes, my name is Brigitte. I am also known as Agent 87."

"Why did you say what you did about our... fellow operative, Scott? Why might it be easier for him to leave?" Virgil asked.

She looked down at her hands as she spoke. "Because Peter is dead."

"Dead?" "Dead! How do you know?"

Brigitte sighed. "I was there. No matter what Viktor did, he could not get Peter to breathe on his own. So he did what he could to keep the body alive until he could confirm brain death, and so that Peter's organs could be harvested, if that was his wish." She looked up and her gaze focused on something far away. "I am a firefighter. I have seen a lot of death. Death from smoke inhalation, carbon monoxide poisoning, from fire itself, even from injuries like broken necks, or gunshot wounds. It all affects you to some degree, but more so when the person is someone you've worked with. The strangers are easier to take, unless..."

"Unless?" John prodded.

She gazed at him, her light blue eyes boring into his own. "You know. You of all people must know. Unless you feel you have not done everything you could, that you..."

"That you arrived too late to save them," John said softly, finishing her sentence.

Brigitte smiled slightly. "So, you do understand."

"Only too well."

Virgil nodded in agreement as he stopped his pacing. He leaned back against his control console, folding his arms. "So, what happened out there?"

"I cannot tell you exactly what Peter did or how he accomplished his goals, only that he was ordered to create a diversion, and he did. Nor can I tell you what Viktor did before we met him on the beach. It was on the way back to rendezvous with the... car... boat... whatever that vehicle is, that Peter was shot."

As she began her narrative, Virgil idly reached over and threw a switch. A recording device started, making a copy of her impressions of the operation to give to his father later. Both of the Tracys listened intently, following her straightforward recounting with interest and refraining from asking questions until she was finished.

"So, you think there were surveillance cameras watching you and Parker?" John asked.

Brigitte nodded. "I assumed so. After all, wouldn't the Minister of Security look to his own with the very best tools available?"

"What did Alvarez use to knock Penelope out?" Virgil wanted to know.

"I don't know. All I know is that she whispered something that indicated she knew the man, then there was the thud of a falling body." Brigitte's smooth forehead creased into a frown. "Though it was odd; when we finally pulled her from the room, I was peering inside so I could stun whoever might have been coming after her. When the minister came into view, she told me not to look at him, not to look at his eyes. I thought it a very strange comment."

"It is odd," John said, exchanging surprised glances with each other. There was a moment of silence, then Virgil smiled.

"Well, I for one am glad that you and Parker and the rest were there to pull her out," he said, his tone conveying his gratefulness. He looked out his viewport at the dark hangar. "Now if only Scott would show up, we can conclude this caper and things will get back to normal."

Brigitte glanced at him, then back at John. She shook her head slowly. "Nothing is ever ended. And nothing will ever be as it was before."

John nodded and crouched down beside her. He smiled and asked softly, "Just out of curiosity, who recruited you?"

Brigitte smiled and chuckled a little. "Tin-Tin Kyrano. She and I were good friends when we lived at Paris. My father was a dealer in fine art; he was always going back and forth between Stockholm and Paris, looking for new artists and old masters to fulfill his commissions. My mother was professor of Medieval and Renaissance literature who often gave lectures at the Sorbonne. She was a good friend of Tin-Tin's mother, and when we stayed in Paris we always stayed at the Hilton so my mother and hers could continue their friendship. That's where I met Tin-Tin. In fact, when she was working on completing her degree, we roomed together for a while. I was supposed to follow in either of my parents' footsteps, but my real love was in an entirely different sphere."

"Firefighting?" John asked simply.

Brigitte nodded. "I always remembered how devastated my mother was to learn that her good friend Samani was dead and why. I so wished I could have been there to save her. That's what started me on my path. I didn't last long in university, I'm afraid."

"Some people don't. It's not something to be ashamed of." John paused. "Y'know something? I've always admired firefighters and paramedics and other 'ordinary' rescue personnel. I mean, we come to a rescue in a blaze of glory when all other means have been exhausted, and everybody sings our praises. But you... and those who do what you do... you plug away at it day after day, without the technology that we have, and a great risk to yourselves. And... well... you're the unsung hero." He took her hand and squeezed it. "I want to say 'Thank you'. Thank you for what you do when you're at your 'day job'."

Brigitte glanced down, smiling a little, her cheeks reddening with pleased embarrassment. "You're welcome. You're right that not many thank us or remember us, but we appreciate those who do." She took a breath and said, "Though we would find things easier, perhaps, if we had some of the technology that you use."

Virgil suddenly straightened and looked out his viewport again. "The hangar door is opening. I think it's Scott."

"Thunderbird Two from Alpha, come in."

Virgil sat back down in his command chair. "This is Thunderbird Two, go ahead."

"It's time for your passenger to go. Her ride is here. And your other passengers are ready."

Virgil smiled. "F-A-B. Moving Thunderbird Two out to open the pod. Delta out." He turned to Brigitte. "If you'll sit down, we'll soon have you on your way home."

"Yes. I want to get home and into bed. This has been a very tiring night." She sat back and buckled herself in. John sat beside her, while Virgil powered up his maneuvering thrusters and brought his 'Bird out into the dawning day.

The priest said a soft, "Amen" and crossed himself. As if by force of habit, Melissa crossed herself too, and straightened. Viktor appeared as if from nowhere and said softly. "We must take him right away so that his organs will be of help."

Melissa swallowed heavily and a strangled, "Go" came out, then she turned and buried her face in Scott's shoulder. His arms came up automatically to hold her, and his hand gently and instinctively rubbed her back. Viktor passed by Penelope without glancing at her, and called in a couple of orderlies. Together they rolled the bed out, and the last glimpse Penelope had of Peter was of his carrot red hair as the bed turned the corner outside the door. She turned her attention back to the scene within the room. The priest was speaking quietly now with Melissa, trying to comfort her while Scott kept a protective arm around her shoulders. Viktor was slumped up against the wall, looking drained.

"Parker?" she whispered, dabbing at her eyes and face with a tissue the chauffeur had provided.

"Yus, Milady?" came the equally soft reply.

"Perhaps now is the time to impress upon Viktor what he is to tell the police... or the press."

Parker shot her a puzzled look. "Th' press, Milady?"

"Yes, Parker. The press. I shall explain later."

"H'All rayte, Milady. Ay shall do may best."

The chauffeur approached the doctor, who looked up at him with a tired expression. They exchanged a few words, then left the room quietly, Viktor turning to watch Melissa and Scott until he passed through the door.

Melissa nodded at the priest, who said, "God bless you, child." Then he left, giving Penelope a nod and a small smile as he did.

Scott guided Melissa to a chair, and Penelope decided that this was the moment to approach her. She took a moment to compose herself, then wheeled her conveyance over to the sobbing woman and raised her eyes to meet Scott's. He responded by touching Melissa gently on the shoulder. "Mel, there's someone here that I'd like you to meet. She was with Peter at... the end."

The red haired woman raised her face to regard Penelope with a half-hopeful, half-dread filled expression. Penelope tried to look encouraging yet sympathetic as she held out her hand. "My name is Penelope Creighton-Ward. It is nice to meet you, Melissa, though I wish it were not under such sad circumstances."

Melissa nodded and took Penelope's hand limply. "It is nice to meet you, too. Scott said you were with Peter when h-he died."

"I was with him near the end, yes." Penelope took a deep breath. "He gave me a message. For your children... and for you." She glanced up at Scott. "And one for Scott as well."

Melissa's eyes grew wide, and her hand, which was still holding Penelope's, convulsively tightened its grip. "What did he say?" she demanded in a whisper.

Penelope closed her eyes for a moment, more to steel herself to the task than to remember the words, then she opened them to look calmly at the grieving widow. Her own hand firmly gripped Melissa's, trying to give and take both comfort and strength from the touch.

"He said first, 'Tell my wee ones that their Da loves them and will always be watching over them'." She shifted her gaze to Scott. "He told me to tell you,Scott, that he forgives you the pint, but you should drink one for him with your brothers."

The pilot smiled and nodded slightly. Melissa glanced over her shoulder at him, then returned to gaze at Penelope. "And what did he say to me?"

The aristocrat sighed. "He made me promise to 'Tell my angel Melissa that I love her'." She fought again with the tears that threatened to fall, and won a temporary respite. "And 'that I was thinking of her at the end'."

Melissa's gaze held hers for a moment more, then the redhead took a deep breath and whispered, "Thank you."

Penelope merely nodded; to speak at that moment would cost her what frail composure she had achieved. Scott squatted down beside Melissa, sliding an arm around her shoulders again. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to do when they release his body? The funeral and such?"

Melissa shook her head. "No, I haven't. I'm still can't believe he's... gone." Her tears began to flow again.

Penelope squeezed her hand once more. "If there is any way I can be of assistance, please let me know."

Melissa looked up briefly and nodded. Penelope sighed slightly, removed her hand gently, and pulled away. She glanced over at the door, where Parker had appeared, followed by Viktor. The chauffeur ducked in and wheeled her out at her silent, motioned command.

Viktor leaned up against the wall outside, wearing clean scrubs and a glum expression on his pale face. He straightened when Penelope came out, and fell into step with her wheelchair as they ambled slowly down the hall. At last they came to a door to an unoccupied room, and he ushered the aristocrat inside. "No one will hear us in here." He closed the door behind him and then moved a chair to where he was on the same level as Penelope, saying softly, "Other surgeons are working on harvesting those organs of Peter's that can be used. I... I was too close to things. Besides, I am not officially on duty anyway."

Penelope nodded. "Thank you, Viktor, for telling me. I know you did all you could for him."

"Yes, I did what I could. Would to God it had been enough." He looked away then took a deep breath. "I have not yet spoken to the police; there has been no time. I understand much of what you have asked me to say, and Parker has told me why the boat's name is imperative. But the story is so sketchy and I am sure they will ask deeper questions."

"I know," Penelope replied in a similar tone. "I expect another questioning session myself before I leave. You might suggest that you were too busy fighting for Peter's life to remember any faces. I understand that the pirates usually have no tell-tale signs on their boats, and some even disguise their faces with kerchiefs and such. Those details would add verisimilitude to your tale. I shall be adding them to mine."

"Yes. That sounds plausible. Thank you."

Penelope glanced over at him, hearing in his tone something that disturbed her. "Viktor? Is there something wrong?"

The doctor looked down at his hands, scrubbed clean after dealing with Peter. "When I was recruited to serve International Rescue, I thought my job would be mostly information gathering, especially when I came here to Unity City. I did not expect to be shooting guns and participating in covert missions. In the back of my mind, I realized it was possible that I might be practicing my skills on some IR personnel, but not under such conditions." He raised his head and gave her a bleak look. "I do not know if I can continue in this position."

There was silence for a moment, then Penelope asked, "Who recruited you, Viktor?"

"He is known as Hiram Hackenbacker. I met him while studying at Cambridge. Afterwards, we corresponded and kept up the friendship."

"He did not give you any hint that there might be danger to this position?"

"No, I do not remember him saying anything about it being dangerous. Mostly gathering information and transmitting it to base."

"I will admit that such is usually the case," Penelope responded. "Rarely have our agents been required to act beyond reporting intelligence." She paused, then asked, "Have you told Hiram about this doubt you have?"

Viktor shook his head. "I have not had time. And I do not want him to think less of me."

"If I know Hiram... and I do," Penelope said, smiling softly, "I doubt he would think any less of a friend who can be honest with him. But I ask you, as a favor to me, to sleep on your decision. If you still feel the same way after you are rested, then contact him. You may have to speak to our commander yourself, but after the courage I have seen in you this night, I am certain you will have no difficulty in doing that."

Viktor nodded. "I will do as you request."

"Well, now we should make ourselves available to the authorities, and to the press as well."

"Ye did say ye'd h'ex-plain t' me h'about th' press," Parker reminded her.

"So I did. And I should do so to Viktor as well. You see, Viktor, when I was detained by Mr. Alvarez, all of my jewelry was confiscated along with my shoes. In fact, they searched me rather thoroughly while I was unconscious."

"Milady!" Parker cried, aghast. His rheumy eyes narrowed and his voice became low and dangerous. "Whay Ay'll gi'e those bloody sons-o'-bitches..."

Penelope held up her hand. "Hush, Parker. Let me finish."

The chauffeur subsided. "Yus, Milady."

"Not only did they take my jewelry, but very likely the contents of my purse and my luggage, some of which included a few interesting gadgets that an aide to the Prime Minister would not usually have, and all of it covered with my fingerprints. Mr. Alvarez may decide to use that equipment to connect me, and possibly attempt to connect International Rescue, to this evening's escapade. By leaking the story of our 'encounter with pirates' to the press, I shall attempt to spike his guns. He would find it difficult to produce what he has without explaining how he came to have it."

"Do you think this will work?" Viktor asked.

"The word of an English woman with a sterling reputation, coupled with the account of an esteemed Unity City doctor? I think it shall," Penelope said. "When I first saw Parker and Brigitte, their faces blackened and hair hidden, I could barely recognize them. Even should Mr. Alvarez have vid of their activities, it will be difficult to make a proper identification, at least of them. As far as any vid of my own person is concerned, he will be hard pressed to explain exactly what I was doing on his property, and any vid he might have of myself as Alison will be practically useless to his cause. It all depends on timing and who gets their account out to the public first."

"Wot h'if 'e 'as vid o' you an' 'e's takin' h'off yer wig?" Parker asked.

"That is perhaps the only danger I can foresee," Penelope admitted. "But... we must risk it. So, Viktor, may I count on you?"

Viktor sighed. "Yes, I will do my best to help with the press." He rose from his seat. "We should go. We have been here too long."

"I agree. Parker?" Penelope turned to the doctor. "Let us get a head start, then come out. It must not seem like we are in collusion."

"Even though we are."

"Even so."

Parker wheeled Penelope out of the room, leaving Viktor to deal with the chairs. "Where to, Milady?"

"Downstairs, Parker. Back to the emergency ward. I think we will find the people we want down there, including Renée. who should know the news about Peter."

"Very gude, Milady."

Scott watched as Parker wheeled Penelope out, then turned his attention back to Melissa. Her face was covered in tears, and she sniffled as she tried to keep the sobbing at bay. He sighed internally; he knew from experience that it was a losing battle. Scanning the room made empty by the departure of the aristocrat, the priest, the doctor, and especially the bed and its occupant, he saw what he was looking for: a box of tissues. Murmuring, "Be right back," he heaved himself to his feet and fetched it. Pulling a few free, he offered them to Melissa, crouching down again so he could see her downcast face. The offering was all it took; she broke into sobs again.

"What will I do without him?" she wailed.

He shook his head slowly; he had no answers for her. He knew that his father would not let her and her family down on the financial end; Jeff Tracy believed in taking care of his employees, whether overt or covert. Her kids... they will miss their dad terribly. They're still young, young enough to not understand, young enough to feel abandoned and fearful. Young enough to still need that fatherly influence... And with those thoughts, an idea was born. The more he looked at it, the more he liked it. I'll have to clear it with Father, and with Melissa, but hey, Dad of all people should understand. And I have a fine example to follow, too. I'll broach the subject with him when I get home... after we discuss this whole situation. I'll talk to Melissa later, when things have settled a bit.

"Mel?" he asked softly. When she lifted her puffy eyes to him, he said gently, "I think you should get out of here and go home. The kids will be waking up soon and they'll want to see their mother..."

"Oh, Scott! How do I tell them? How do I tell them that their Da isn't coming home?" Melissa asked through her tears.

"With as much love and strength as you can muster, Mel," Scott replied. "Listen, do you have anyone nearby, any family who can come stay with you for a bit? To help you out?"

"I have a cousin. He works for the Irish ambassador. He and his wife have always been good to us. Perhaps I can get her to come." She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I suppose I'll have to tell Peter's people. I don't know that they'd care; ever since the RAF they've cut ties with him. But his youngest sister has kept in touch. I'll tell her and she can tell the rest of the lot."

"Good idea."

"I just don't know how I'm going to face life without him," Melissa whisper.

"You will, Mel, you will. Just take it one day at a time. You have friends and family who care and... you can call me anytime, day or night. Whenever you need to talk."

"Thank you, Scott. I'll remember that."

He took her hand, and helped her rise from the chair. Putting an arm around her shoulders again, he drew her from the room. She took one glance back at the place, then closed her eyes momentarily and let him shepherd her out.

Downstairs, Scott could see Penelope speaking with two or three unfamiliar people in a corner of the emergency waiting room. Parker sidled up to Scott and said, "Ay'm h'under h'orders t' drive ye where e'er ye want t' go, sir. Then h'on th' way back, get 'er Ladyship's thin's from th' h'Embassy, an' come t' fetch 'er."

"Good plan, Parker. Let's get this lady home."

Melissa made a phone call from the car using Scott's satellite phone, and her cousin's wife, properly shocked, agreed to come over right away. Renée Baptista was waiting for them when they arrived at the Riordan house. "The children are still asleep and have not stirred. What is the news about Peter?" She gazed at Melissa's red-rimmed eyes and Scott's solemn face, then made the intuitive leap. "There is no reason to say anything. I think I understand. I am so sorry, Mrs. Riordan." She scribbled a number down on a notepad, and handed it to the grieving woman. "If you need anything, anything at all, call me. I will do everything in my power to help."

"Thank you," Melissa said softly. A small puzzled frown crinkled her forehead. "You know, all of a sudden, there are a lot of people who are strangers to me, but obviously were friends to Peter, and all of them want to help. I-I don't know what to make of it."

"Just accept it," Renée said softly, putting a hand on Melissa's arm. "Your Peter made an impact on lives that you will never know existed. But those of us who knew him wish to honor him by helping the family he has left behind."

Melissa's tears began to flow again, and she sniffed another, "Thank you" between the beginnings of her renewed sobbing. Scott pulled her close again, and she turned and buried her face in his chest as she had before. Renée took the opportunity to whisper, "Goodbye," and went out to wait for him.

"Mel?" He waited for the woman to quiet before he spoke again. "Mel. I wish I could stay and keep you company; offer you comfort. But I can't. I have responsibilities. But remember what I said. Call me anytime you want." He handed her his small satellite phone. "Here, take my phone. My home number is programmed in it. Use it whenever you like."

"I... I can't take this...," Melissa began.

"Yes, you can. I can always get another phone, and I'll get another number so you can call me direct. I don't want anything to stop you from contacting me whenever you need to, even if it's just to talk."

She took the phone, looking at it with dulled eyes. He embraced her once more, then both of them turned to glance out the window as a car pulled up. "Looks like your cousin's wife is here. And it's time for me to go. Remember, call any time."

He pulled away, and she followed him to the door. The cousin was getting out of the car, and looking toward the house. Scott turned back for an instant and gave Melissa a quick kiss on the forehead, then he was gone, striding to Renée's car. Within moments, that car was gone, its red tail lights disappearing down the dark and quiet street.

"Oh, Mel," said the cousin's wife, opening her arms to the woman who stood in the door. "What horrible news!" She turned her gaze to follow Melissa's as she watched Scott leave. "Who was that, dearie?"

"A good... friend," Melissa answered dully. She let the woman into the house, and firmly closed the door.

Penelope looked very satisfied when they picked her up at the hospital. "The press now has all the details that I care to give them. They will, of course, try to interview Viktor; but I am sure his story will pass muster. Now to rendezvous with Thunderbird Two and leave Unity City."

"None too soon fer me, Milady," Parker said quietly.

They drove out to the airfield, and Scott unlocked the security gates. He contacted Virgil within the hangar, and they watched as Thunderbird Two's bulk trundled out so that the pod could be lifted. The door lowered, and inside stood Virgil, John, and Brigitte. Scott strode over to his brothers. He looked Brigitte up and down, then said, "I'm afraid I have bad news about Peter..."

She held up a hand. "There is no need to tell me. I already know."

"You know already?" Scott queried, his handsome face puzzled.

Brigitte nodded. "I was there, helping him. Peter died here, long before he got to the hospital. Viktor tried to revive him, but he knew it was impossible. So he strove to keep Peter's body functioning until he could confirm brain death, and so that if Peter had chosen to donate his organs, they would be in a condition to do so."

"I see," Scott replied. He looked at his brothers. "So you know, too?"

"Yes, we do," John said, softly. He put a hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Scott. I know how close you were."

For the first time, Scott realized that he had been on autopilot, that he had been pushing his own grief aside to help Melissa and anyone else who needed it. Now, the reality of Peter's death hit him fully, like a lead weight, and he gasped in a deep breath at the pain of it all. Breathing hard to regain his composure, he lifted his arm to grasp John's above the elbow. "Thanks, John. I guess it's just hit me that he's really dead." John merely nodded, and the brothers let go of each other.

In the meanwhile, Brigitte had walked down the ramp and approached Renée and Penelope. Parker was busy pulling his employer's things from the trunk of Renée's car, and Virgil was leaning on it, speaking softly with Penelope herself. The tall blonde and the petite Kalingo woman embraced as if they'd known each other all their lives.

"You have heard?" Brigitte asked.

"Yes, though not the details."

"I will fill you in on what I can as we return to the city." Brigitte then turned to Penelope. "How are you?"

"My feet have seen better days," Penelope replied, excusing herself from conversing with Virgil to turn her attention to Brigitte. "But I shall live. You will see a version of my cover story in the morning news. I only hope it is enough to keep Mr. Alvarez from producing the items he has undoubtedly culled from my luggage." She turned suddenly to Virgil. "Oh! That reminds me. You should contact base and have our science team do something to render my compact communicator useless."

"I will," Virgil said with a smile. "Once we get you settled onboard. May I help you into the pod?"

"Yes, of course, Virgil. Just another moment, please." Penelope got carefully to her feet and reached out to embrace Brigitte. "Thank you," she murmured. "I owe you my life."

"It was in the line of duty," Brigitte answered gravely as she released the aristocrat from the light hug.

"I shall not forget," Penelope promised. She turned to Virgil. "Now I think I am ready."

"F-A-B," he responded. Then he turned to his brother and called, "John! Please come give me a hand!"

John had just started to inform Scott of Virgil's behavior during the rescue, a recounting that made the oldest Tracy son scowl, when the Thunderbird Two pilot called him. "I'll tell you more when we get home," the blond promised.

"You do that. I'm heading for Thunderbird One so I can pull her out of here when he gets his jolly green giant out of the way," Scott told him, following him down the ramp. John nodded, and Scott, with a final thank you to Renée for her help, walked off into the dark hangar.

John came up to Brigitte before answering his brother's summons. "It was nice to meet you, Brigitte. Again, thank you for what you do during your 'day job', as well as what you've done this night."

"You are welcome, John." She hesitated, then said softly. "Perhaps we could see each other again?" She lowered her eyes as she blushed. "As friends. You understand."

John's eyes opened wide with shock and pleasure. "I'd like that. To see you again, that is. As you say, as friends," he blurted out awkwardly.

"Let me give you my number," she said, turning to ask Renée for a slip of paper.

"Oh, no need," John hurried to tell her. "We, uh, already have it."

She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. "Oh, yes. Of course you do. Well, take care, John."

"You, too, Brigitte." He held open the passenger door for her and closed it after she had slipped inside the car. Then he turned to Virgil.

"If you're finished romancing our lovely Valkyrie there," Virgil commented drily, "Perhaps you can give me a hand carrying Lady Penelope up into the pod?"

"Sure, Virge. Anything for a pretty girl." He and Virgil made a chair of their hands much as he and Parker had done before, and carried Penelope up the ramp and into the pod. Parker closed the car's back door, giving the two women inside a farewell salute, then followed the Tracys, shaking his head. Renée's car took off, heading for the entrance to the airstrip. Virgil instructed Parker on how to raise the ramp, and then to lower the chassis of Thunderbird Two down over the cavernous cargo carrier. John watched Virgil as he told Parker what to do; it seemed strange to him that his brother would let anyone else handle his beloved 'Bird, most of all someone who had no experience, like Parker. But he put his thoughts on the back burner until they had Penelope safely tucked away on a bunk in the crew's quarters, where Virgil insisted she stay and rest.

Parker came into those quarters as soon as the Tracy sons had left, and fussed with drawing a blanket up nearly to Penelope's chin. She swatted at him affectionately. "Parker, do stop mothering me. I am not made of spun glass."

"An' Ay haf reason t' know h'it, Milady," he shot back. He looked at the door he had just come through. "Naow, thet Mr. Virgil, 'e seems t' think thet ye h'are."

"He has been very kind, as has John," Penelope declared. She sighed as she lay back. "I am so very glad to be going to the island. There is so much I have to tell Jeff."

"Ay know, Milady. But h'in th' meantayme, ye stay 'ere an' get some sleep. Ay'll be sittin' aowt wit' th' boys h'if ye need me."

"Very good, Parker, and thank you. You had better go out now and strap in so Virgil can take off."

"Yus, milady." The chauffeur walked to the door and glanced back at his employer with a fond expression. Then he left.

Penelope shifted onto her side, curling up. She felt gritty and grimy and bone-weary. Peter's pale face rose up in her mind's eye, and his final words, "Tell th' boss, t'was worth it" rang in her ears. She shook her head. Is it really worth an innocent life? Was it really worth your life, Peter? she wondered. The mask of composure she had been wearing since speaking with Melissa finally crumbled, and tears began to flow down her face anew. Her breath hitched, and she pounded on the pillow as she sobbed aloud in exhaustion and anger, "Damn it! Damn it all! Damn it all to bloody hell!"