Penelope's Drama

Ramirez took the chair next to Franks. Alvarez returned to his own seat, swiveling it around to face the two men and steepling his fingers. "Now. The pilots of the helijet did not report the destruction of that accursed car. And since the helijet seems to have been destroyed, we can assume that Lady Penelope made good her escape. This poses a problem, because I am sure she will tell her superiors just who I am the moment she is in contact with them. I will have to step up my plans accordingly."

"Which are...?" Franks asked.

"Blackmailing International Rescue to the point where they have to choose between exposure, government control, or ceasing operations," Alvarez replied.

"What does this accomplish?"

Alvarez's face became hard and his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "Revenge. And the acquisition of their technology."

Franks frowned. "Is that what the disk that Lucinda Myles had was all about? Getting information on IR to use as blackmail?"

"Yes. I needed to show their commander I was serious about my goals. After all, he was not to know that I was Belah Gaat, his old enemy."

Franks leaned forward in surprise. "You already know who their commander is?" he asked, incredulous.

Alvarez sat back. "Yes. I have known for quite some time. I have tried numerous times to obtain plans to the technology that makes the Thunderbirds unique and powerful. But I have failed. So, I am trying a different tack; playing on the fears of the man who runs International Rescue. The fear that his operations would be exposed. He has very good reasons for keeping his identity and the location of his base a secret, the advanced technology being only one of them."

"Who is he?"

The minister stared at Franks for a moment, then began to chuckle. "Brazen, aren't you? I am not prepared to tell you. Even though you are now part of my operations, I still do not trust you, Señor Franks. You are too much of a maverick."

Franks sat back again. "Don't you think that the world might object to International Rescue coming under government control? Under your control? After all, these poor saps are pretty popular because they'll rescue just about anyone, regardless of who or where they are. An International Rescue under government's thumb would be more... selective."

"His Excellency has prepared for that," Ramirez said, finally joining the conversation. "You heard him tell the men in the helijet to take pictures? If the film is usable, it will be released to a website that specializes in defaming and vilifying International Rescue. They have the technology to scan the Internet, to discover when and where rescues have taken place and put their own spin on them. Then, their information is leaked to the legitimate press. So far, the press has been uncooperative in tarring the reputation of International Rescue. But this film, when properly... edited, may hold the key to sullying their pristine character."

"By the time I am through with them, the world will be clamoring for the government to take control," Alvarez asked. "The attack on the helijet may work in our favor, as will the evidence from Lady Penelope's visit. The world will want to know how my personal helijet was blown up and by whom. But still..."

"But what, your Excellency?"

Alvarez turned to Franks. "You say you are sure that the Myles woman would have kept the file?"

Franks's eyes widened and he nodded, as smile slowly spreading over his face. "Luci? Yes. Absolutely. She's a terrible pack rat when it comes to information. And that kind of sensitive data? She'd hang onto it until she could find a way to get it to International Rescue."

"Good. Then you are to find her and retrieve both the disk... and Ms. Myles as well."

"How? I mean, we don't exactly have transportation..." Franks let his voice trail off as the two other men exchanged irritated glances. "I guess you do have a way to get off this island."

"His Excellency has prepared for every contingency," Ramirez said haughtily. He turned to his employer. "Shall I take the yacht?"

"Yes, Fernando. Mr. Franks may be wanted for questioning in Unity City in regards to what happened in the warehouse district, but you can take him by sea to the airport at Staniel Cay. Charter a jet for him there. You do have other identities, do you not, Señor Franks?"

Franks fidgeted a bit, then admitted, "I have a couple."

"Use one of them." Alvarez stretched, stubbing out the remainder of his cigar. "When you have seen Señor Franks on his way, return here with a rented aircraft. We can fetch the yacht back later. But first, we must rest. International Rescue will not be able to make any moves until Lady Penelope contacts their headquarters, and very likely not until their lead Thunderbird returns to their base."

"What will you do, your Excellency?" Ramirez asked, frowning.

Alvarez smiled, an expression that made a shiver run up Jim Franks's spine. "What will I do? Why, I will report a night-time invasion of my home and property. There is a great deal of evidence to begin an investigation. A very public one."

Franks stood. "If your Excellency doesn't object, I'll be heading to bed. I'll have to work fast to secure Lucinda. She is tenacious when she wants to get something done, and I'm sure that getting in touch with International Rescue is near the top of her list."

"Will you need any assistance? Fernando can put you in touch with some... hired help. Or you could use the same ones from your first endeavor."

"No. As I said before, I know how she thinks. I can take her by myself."

"Very well." Alvarez waved a hand. "You are dismissed, Señor Franks. Sleep well."

Franks nodded and left. Ramirez excused himself and followed. Alvarez stood and looked out the window. It would be dawn in a few hours, and he knew he should rest. But a few hours of meditation would have to suffice. Franks does not realize it, but the Myles woman has already given the information to International Rescue. After all, Tracy was there and if all the reports are correct, and they are old friends, she could not have missed the fact that the Tracy family is International Rescue. And if they are the kind of friends I believe they are, she would be as good a bargaining chip as Creighton-Ward.

"Thunderbird Two from Epsilon," John called into his boom mike. "You can retrieve the pod." Virgil acknowledged the command curtly, and John came around to the other side of the Rolls with his stretcher, knowing it would be easier to take Peter out by the shoulders than by the legs. He left the medikit with Brigitte.

Parker opened the rear doors on the driver's side and helped a stiff Penelope out of the Rolls. Viktor continued to try to bring Pete back, intubating him and putting him on a portable ventilator. The Irishman's chest went up and down in a rhythm resembling breathing, and the doctor had also added an IV, pushing fluids into the man through the carotid artery. Penelope hoped that there was still a spark of life left in the redhead.

She straightened slowly, and then hissed as her feet hit the cold metal decking of the pod.

"Milady?" Parker asked, his voice full of concern.

"My feet, Parker. I believe they will need some medical attention." All eyes but Viktor's turned ceiling-ward as the mighty engines of Thunderbird Two became audible and a loud metallic "clank" sounded. There was a quick shudder of their surroundings, then the feeling of rising, as in an elevator. The VTOL engine noises changed their orientation from above to below, and then ceased, being replaced instead by a roar from behind that dwindled down into a quieter hissing. Penelope noticed all this as Parker guided her to the driver's seat to rest until she could be transported to the sickbay herself.

"What's his number?" John asked quietly as he helped Viktor position a backboard beneath the limp form.

Penelope started. "His... his number? Oh, yes. He is Agent 53." I cannot believe that just a day or so ago I called him that and nothing else. Now it seems so... impersonal.

With John on one end and Brigitte on the other, they moved Peter to the antigravity stretcher. "Delta, call in to base and have them give you the details on Agent 53. Contact information and everything. We're bringing him up to sickbay now."

"F-A-B," Virgil said. "How is Penny?"

"She's in much better shape than Agent 53 is right now," John retorted. "Just concentrate on getting us to a hospital."

There was a brief pause, then Virgil replied coolly, "F-A-B."

Penelope and Parker watched as the doctor, the firefighter, and the astronaut accompanied the wounded man to the door that led to the small elevator. Parker sighed, and his employer looked up at him. He glanced back down. "H'It doesn' look good, Milady."

"I know, Parker. I know." She peeked over the driver's seat at the back of the car. "FAB-1 will need a good deal of cleaning and..."

'Tha's not what Ay meant, Milady... an' ye know h'it," Parker said with a fatherly warning.

She sighed. "Yes, Parker. I am worried about Peter, too. If he doesn't pull through, I..." She paused, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. "Well, there is no use dwelling on that now. Cross that bridge when we come to it. Right, Parker?"

"H'Of course, Milady. An' 'ere comes Mister John."

John was just climbing the steps that took him from the lift to the main floor of the pod. He saw Parker waiting stolidly by the driver's side door, then Penelope's head popped out to watch him as he approached. He had never seen her so disheveled. Her usually perfectly coifed hair was mussed; she had smears of dirt and blood on her face. As he approached he noticed the bare and dirty feet, the blood on her rumpled designer dress, what of it he could see under the Kevlar vest she still wore. Still, he smiled to see her.

"Hello, Lady Penelope. I'm here to take you and Parker up to the crew's quarters. Our little sickbay is a bit crowded right now. Let me take a look at your feet, then help you off with that stylish vest..."

Both Parker and Penelope started at his mention of the Kevlar. Parker colored, and began to remove his, while his employer looked down and said lightly, "Oh, this old thing? To tell the truth, I had forgotten I still had it on. It is so comfortable. You know it is absolutely a fashion must in the circles where I have been traveling lately." She began to unfasten it, bringing the attention of John's sharp eyes to the broken and dirty fingernails and the blood on her arms.

"Are you hurt anywhere besides your feet?" he asked as he examined each one, gently brushing off the remaining sand. He noted the deep scratches on the ankles and the sides of the feet as well as the small puncture on the sole of one foot and the cut near the heel of the other.

"Physically? No, not really. Just sore and scraped from sliding through a small window opening. However, I am worried about Peter."

John's blue eyes met hers frankly. "I'll be honest, Lady P. I don't think he'll make it. That doctor..."

"His name is Viktor."

"Thank you. Viktor is trying to pump Peter full of fluids and he's using one of those battlefield bandages to staunch the wound. But I think Peter has already lost too much blood. We're on the way to the hospital." He glanced up at Parker. "Parker, give me a hand here. We can make a chair from our arms and carry Penelope up to the crews' quarters. It will be easier to treat her where we can properly wash the dirt off of her feet."

"Rayght, Mister John."

The two men clasped hands beneath Penelope's thighs, and around her back, while for her part, Penelope put her arms over their shoulders. Thus, they lifted the aristocrat and carried her carefully to the little elevator.

"What cover story shall we give to the hospital?" she asked as they rode upwards.

"Father has been thinking about that. We'll see what he has to say when we get upstairs. By the way, what's the name of the Valkyrie that came along with you?"

"That is Agent 87, and her name is Brigitte. She is a firefighter."

"Oh, that explains why she's helping Viktor. She's probably had some extensive first aid training."

By now they had reached the crew's quarters. John and Parker gently deposited their burden into a chair and John took an emesis bowl that he had already prepared to the small washroom to fill it with warm water. Penelope glanced at the medikit lying on the table beside her and smiled sadly. "This caper did not go off as planned, did it, Parker?"

"Ay wouldn't say thet, Milady," Parker responded. "We did pull ye h'aout, an' h'in one piece."

John returned with the water, walking carefully as not to slosh it. He put a thick towel in the floor, and knelt before her. But before he began to treat her, she asked, "Has anyone told Scott about Peter?"

The blue eyes met again briefly, then John looked back down. "No, not yet."

A sudden beeping from John's wrist telecomm caught their attention. "Epsilon from base. What's the hold up? Is the Pink Lady secure?"

John activated his communicator and spoke into it. "Base from Epsilon. The Pink Lady is secure, Commander. We're just attending to her now."

"F-A-B, Epsilon. Put her on for me, will you?"

"F-A-B, Commander." John removed his watch and handed it over to Penelope. "Here. Someone wants to talk to you."

"Thank you, John." She looked into the watch face and said, "Commander from Pink Lady, go ahead."

Jeff smiled. "Am I glad to see you! What is your situation?"

"One of my operatives is in grave condition," she said succinctly. "I myself am being treated for cuts and abrasions on my feet. Otherwise, we are well. What is the overall situation?"

"You are en route to a hospital in Unity City. ETA, three minutes. We are treating this as a rescue, so here is your cover story. You will need to share it with Parker, the doctor and with the wounded man as soon as he regains consciousness and is lucid. You were sailing in your yacht, Seabird, when you were attacked by... for lack of a better word... pirates. They demanded your jewels and money, and scuttled the ship when they left as to leave no evidence. You called International Rescue and we came to your aid. End of story."

Penelope nodded. It was not so far-fetched, even in these modern times. There were still rogue bands of criminals, especially in the Caribbean, who plied a violent trade of piracy, preying on the rich who dared to sail the waters of the tropics without the proper protection. The World Aquanaut Security Patrol was trying to get a handle on these little bands, who used small, very fast speedboats to carry out their crimes. They hunted in small packs, three or four boats at a time, and often sank the ships they attacked, giving WASP the unenviable choice of saving the people on the sinking ship or following the small boats. And if circumstances allowed them to follow the fleeing small craft, the pirates would split up, giving WASP the headache of deciding which boat to follow. The chase might net them some of the smaller fry, but the bigger fish were always protected... and rarely caught.

"I understand, Commander. The doctor was talking to me about a new research project he had in mind. And Peter was a friend of Parker's, just along for the ride. He tried to engage the pirates and was shot. Would that suffice?"

"Yes, very much so. I chose Seabird over FAB-2 because..."

"Because it has already been destroyed, and no one else knows about that. What shall I say about Brigitte?"

"It would be wise to have her wait with Thunderbird Two. She can come into the city later. I'm making arrangements to that end."

"Very good. I shall impart to my colleagues their excuses for appearing with me, and for our wounded man's injuries. Will I see you soon?"

"Yes. Once things are settled in Unity City."

Penelope paused. She was unfamiliar with the code names that Jeff had given his sons, with the exception of John's, which she had just heard. She searched for a way to ask the question without revealing Scott's name. Ah, I have it. "Commander, have you told your lead pilot about the situation yet?"

Jeff sighed. "No, but I am about to."

"Good. He should know as soon as possible." She paused again, then said in an urgent tone. "Commander? There is something you should know about the man I was visiting. Something very important."

"What is that?"

"He is not the man he seems to be. He is our old enemy... the Hood."

Jeff's eyes opened wide in shock and his mouth dropped open for a moment before his jaw snapped shut. "You are sure?"

"Yes. I vividly remember his eyes boring into me just before I passed out."

An expression of anger tempered by resolution passed over his face, and he asked tersely, "What about the real minister? Is he dead?"

Penelope shook her head. "Unknown. I am not sure how Gaat found out who I was, but he did, and he acted quickly. I am fortunate that my fellow operatives acted just as quickly."

Virgil's voice came over the intercom. "We have reached the hospital. Please prepare for landing and disembarking."

John looked up at her. "I've finished bandaging your feet, but they should be seen by the doctor. "C'mon, Parker. Let's get her down to the pod."

"We are at the hospital, Commander. I must go."

"F-A-B, Pink Lady. Base out."

There was a gentle bump as Thunderbird Two settled to the ground. "Everyone in the pod," Virgil called back through the intercom. Within a moment, the man himself appeared. By this time, John had donned a reflective visor and had made the same sort of carrying "chair" with Parker that they had used to bring Penelope up to the crew's quarters. Virgil stepped in and was about to say something when John jerked his head and told him, "We've got things covered here. Why don't you give the doctor a hand with his patient?"

Virgil frowned, and was about to protest, but Brigitte came to the door. "Viktor needs some help with Peter." She put a hand on Virgil's arm. "Please come help."

The pilot's face cleared and he nodded, leaving the room and following Brigitte to the sick bay. John watched him go then said, "Okay, Parker. Upsy-daisy!"

As they lifted Penelope into the air, she murmured to her chauffeur, "I assume you heard what the commander said about our cover story, Parker?"

"Yus, Milady."

"I am sure that Viktor will be engaged with helping Peter when we get to the hospital proper, and the doctors will be engaged with my own injuries. So, if you have a chance to see him first, please impress our 'cover' on the doctor as soon as is feasible."

"O' course, Milady."

They were now in the pod, and as Virgil, wearing the same kind of visor as his brother, opened the door, Penelope looked at the floating stretcher and said a little prayer for the occupant. She no longer put as much stock in prayer as she used to, but it wouldn't hurt, and indeed, might be of help.

"Thunderbird One from base. Come in, Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One reading you five by five. Go ahead, base."

"Alpha, you are to fly to the coordinates that I am downloading. Once there, you will put Thunderbird One in a hangar, change into civvies, and drive into the city with Agent 38. She will be waiting for you."

Scott looked puzzled. "This is unusual, Commander. May I ask why?"

Jeff's face looked very weary and very old at that moment. "You should be aware that one of our operatives was badly injured during the undercover action. The injured agent was your friend, Agent 53."

"Peter?" Scott breathed, his eyes growing wide with shock.

Jeff nodded. "Yes, Peter. Your assignment right now is to bring his wife to the hospital, as quickly as you can. I'm downloading the contact information. He...it... it's not good."

Scott swallowed, and switched his flight pattern to bring him to the coordinates his father had sent. "Should I call ahead?"

"I'll leave that up to you, Alpha. Either way, it's going to be a shock."

You don't know the half of it, Dad. "I'll get her there as quickly as possible. Thunderbird One, out."

Jeff's picture winked out and Scott slammed a hand on the side of his seat. "Damn it all to hell! This shouldn't have happened! Now what do I tell Melissa? I don't even know if she knows about Pete's involvement in IR!"

He looked ahead and saw that he was coming to the outskirts of the city. "Good thing that radar jammer is working. I'd hate for Unity City's air enforcers to come after me. Especially since I'm landing... now."

The small airstrip belonged to a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a subsidiary of Tracy Industries. It was actually a local air transport company, one of two dozen or so similar terminals that were scattered around the world. Though it was true that the company did business and usually made money, the true purpose was to provide a quick hiding place for the Thunderbirds when necessary. Scott came in slowly, dropping down to mere meters from the ground in front of the largest hangar. Tapping in a code in his onboard computer and hitting "send", he watched with satisfaction as the hangar door opened. A movement to his left caught his eye and he glanced over to see a dark car pull into the premises. Must be Agent 38. Hope he or she knows their way around Unity City.

He guided his 'Bird into the hangar and set her down at the far end to make room for Thunderbird Two, should she be directed there. He printed off the address and phone number. Then he shut down all of the systems other than the automatic protection charge, and changed into his civvies, making sure he had his satellite phone along. Then he ran to the other end of the hangar, punched in a code to lock it up, and ducked under the door while it came slowly down. The car's lights blinked twice, signaling him as to its existence, and Scott jogged over. He was surprised to see an older woman, petite and dark-skinned, waiting in the driver's seat.

"Agent 38, at your service, sir," she said, her voice sounding like she came from somewhere in the area. She extended her hand. "You may call me Renée."

"Scott," he replied, shaking her hand. "Do you know where we are going?"

"To the home of Peter and Melissa Riordan. I was told, however, that you would have the address."

"Here it is." Scott handed over the paper and watched as Renée plugged the data into her onboard GPS system. The small screen showed her the fastest way to get to their destination. She handed back the paper, and pulled out of the compound, stopping long enough to key in a code at the entry. The fence closed behind them automatically, but they were well on the road before it clanged shut.

"I'm to call ahead," Scott explained. He dialed the phone number he had been given. There were three rings, three long moments when Scott's mind flitted through what he should say, what he could say, to the wife of his good friend. Then the phone answered, and a sleepy woman, face freckled from the sun and dark, tousled red hair framing her face, appeared on his screen.

"Hullo? Who is this?"

"Melissa? It's me, Scott. Scott Tracy."

"Scott? What the hell are you doing here? And why are you calling at this godawful hour?"

Scott took a deep breath. "Melissa, you've got to trust me. Can you find someone to watch your kids?"

Melissa rubbed the sleep from her eyes, one at a time. "Why? What's the matter?"

"It... It's Pete. Something's happened to Pete. I'm coming with a friend to get you and take you to the hospital..."

"Peter? Hospital? What happened?" Now Melissa was wide awake. "Tell me, Scott! What happened?"

"I can't explain right now, but I'll be there in..." He turned to Renée, who mouthed, "Ten." Then he turned back to Melissa. "Ten minutes. Please, Mel, get dressed and find someone to watch the kids."

"I don't know if I can find someone, but I'll be dressed when you get here." She was moving now and the phone's picture jerked around as she did. "See you in a few. Bye."

The call cut off, and Scott leaned back, letting his breath out in a steady stream. Renée glanced over at him. "I can watch the children if she has no one else."

Scott gave her a wan smile. "Thanks. I'll have to try and impress on her that you're okay." He shook his head. "God, why did this have to happen?"

"Why does anything happen?" Renée asked simply. "It's life. People live, people die, the world goes on. It's what you do with the day that matters. From what I have heard, Peter did his very best with this day."

"I guess so. I'll need to hear the whole story," Scott replied. "Then I have to figure out what parts of it I can tell Melissa."

Penelope was quite right about the hospital. She was treated by the emergency room doctors, but Peter was taken elsewhere by Viktor. Parker stayed outside the curtained alcove where she was being treated, while John and Virgil went back to Thunderbird Two. She didn't so much hear it lift off as she heard the remarks and response of those who were watching it lift off and fly away. She wasn't sure where they were going; but they had obviously received orders and some of those concerned Brigitte.

A policeman came to see her and she gave a statement, feigning a foggy memory about details due to fright. Her injuries, she explained, where caused by slipping on the deck while they were trying to escape the pirates at first. It was, after all, her boat, and she felt comfortable enough to go barefoot. A passable lie, she thought, to anyone who does not know me well.

"Parker?" she called during one of the moments when she was alone.

The chauffeur came in. "Yus, Milady?"

"Find where Viktor has taken Peter. The nurses are looking for some stockings or slippers for me so I won't ruin the bandages on my feet. I want to see Peter myself when they are through."

"Yus, Milady." He left the alcove, and left the curtains opened enough for Penelope to see what was going on. A priest went by, and two nurses, one pulling a gurney with a large elderly man on it, the other pushing. Doctors, injured people, a veritable parade of misery and hope passed by her doorway. Suddenly, she called out, "Scott!"

Scott stopped and backed up, holding up one finger to a white-faced Melissa. He poked his head into Penelope's alcove, and said, "I'll be back, Lady P. I'm taking Melissa to see Pete."

"Go on then," she responded. A nurse excused herself as she slipped by him with a pair of white cotton socks for Penelope. "I shall join you momentarily."

Scott nodded and disappeared. The nurse helped Penelope with the socks, sliding them carefully up over the dressings. The aristocrat asked, "May I see the man who was brought in with me? I would like to know how he is doing."

"Certainly. I will bring a wheelchair." The nurse was a good as her word, for a moment after she left she was back with a wheelchair, and an orderly to push it. She helped Penelope off the examining table and into the chair, then told the orderly, "Take her to the third floor. The surgical wing. Ask for Dr. Solokov's patient." He nodded, and away they went.

Up two floors in the staff and patients' elevator, then down a long, quieter corridor. Through two doors, and Penelope could see Parker standing outside a room. For the first time since they had become partners, her chauffeur looked old and worn. He lifted his eyes and met hers just as the orderly brought her near. "Ay'll take h'over, may gude man," he said to the orderly, who nodded and left.

"Parker?" she asked quietly as he hesitated. He dropped his eyes and shook his head, then wheeled her quietly into the room.

Penelope had an impression of white, and red, and black. The white was the sheets that covered Peter to the chin and the color of his skin, like paper or chalk. The red was the corona of red hair that framed Melissa's face as she leaned close to whisper something inaudible into her husband's ear. Black was the hair of Scott Tracy, standing behind her, watching her with a face full of pain and eyes full of pity. And black was the collared shirt of the priest who was administering the Anointing of the Sick, formerly known as the Last Rites. That was when Penelope realized that a crucial sound was missing from the scene: the sound of the ventilator, making Peter breathe.

She was suddenly hit with the full scope of the situation, and she gave a little gasp. Then she shut her eyes tight and fought with the tears that sprang to them. The tears won, and they began to course freely down her face.

Peter Riordan was dead.