Unraveling

It was near the end of the work day when Ciprian called Patricia. "Trish? I tink I have someting," he told her when she picked up the phone.

"I think I have, too, so I do," she replied, grinning. "Let's meet and swap notes."

They met at a little coffee shop they both liked, one that served several different kinds of coffee and tea and had booths along two walls where they could have a relatively private conversation. Patricia ordered tea, Ciprian asked for coffee, and when the drinks were ready, they sat down in the booth farthest from the door to compare notes.

"You first, C me mate," Patricia offered. He nodded, and began to show her the evidence he had collected.

Sometime later and unnoticed by the detectives, a dark-skinned older woman with a streak of silvery-white hair from her widow's peak back got up from the booth next to theirs and made her way out to the street. Once there, she found her car, started it, and pulled into the evening's traffic, hurrying home to pass the disturbing news she had just heard on to her superiors.

Penny was walking in Kyrano's garden again. She stopped to sniff one of the roses from the bush that Virgil had used as a model the other day. The actual blossom he had painted was wilting, but there were more where that came from, and they all smelled just as sweet.

She sighed. Addison's call had been very disturbing. She had always counted on being a cipher, someone that no one would possibly expect could be a secret agent. And now she had left a trail, one that could be traced back to her and potentially, back to the Tracys... and International Rescue.

A slight crunch on the gravel made her turn. Jeff was there, a serious expression on his face. "Penny?"

She dredged up a smile for him. "Yes, Jeff?"

"We've had some news. You'd better come up to the lounge."

In the lounge, the boys had gathered, along with Tin-Tin, Brains and Parker. Jeff had turned his computer screen around, and in a window that didn't quite take up all of the screen, was the serious face of Renée Baptiste. Penelope smiled a bit when she saw the woman. "Hello, Agent 38. Or should I use your proper name?"

"In this case, Agent 38, as I am reporting officially," Renée said, her voice as serious as her mien.

Jeff escorted Penelope to an open seat, and returned to his place behind his desk. As he did, he said, "Please tell the Pink Lady, and the other operatives, what you have just told me,"

"Yes, Commander." Renée took a sip from a glass of ice water she had beside her in her tiny home office. "I was visiting a coffee shop not far from where I work. It is a favorite place of many government workers and one where I often pick up tidbits of information. Today, I was sitting in my usual spot and two people took the booth next to mine, the one farthest from the door." Her lips quirked upwards briefly. "I have found that the people who take that last booth often do not want to be noticed or overheard." She paused, took another sip of water, then continued. "The people who took the end table this time were a man and a woman. The man was local, very large and muscular, dark-skinned, hair in braids. The woman was slender, relatively tall, with dark hair and a pale complexion. She referred to him as 'C' and he called her 'Trish'."

"Both of them had folders with them and they sat down to compare notes. The man, C, said he had an unlisted satellite number from the phone logs of 'her office' that he had not been able to track down, one that had been called the same day they had "visited". The woman, Trish, asked if it were the same one that..." Renée consulted the notes she had scribbled down to help her remember. "... that was on the card 'St. Clair' had given to 'Ramirez'. He said no, that phone number had been disconnected. He exclaimed that he was tempted to dial the unlisted number to see who answered, and Trish said they might still do that. Then she pulled out a picture of 'Wanda Lamour' and multiple pictures of 'Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward'." A gasp went around the room at this news, and most everyone glanced over at Penelope, who sat ramrod straight in her chair, nothing but the paling color of her face giving away her true reaction.

Renée continued without a pause. "Trish indicated that she had gotten the pictures from a fashion magazine and that her Ladyship modeled for François Lemaire and had clothes designed for her by Elaine Wickfen. The name Wickfen was familiar to C, and he tried to remember where he had heard it before. Trish explained that he had heard it from 'the Honorable Senator' who had mentioned that 'St. Clair' looked as if she were wearing a Wickfen design. Trish told her companion to imagine one particular Penelope picture with dark hair and a beauty mark and when he did, he indicated that he saw Wanda Lamour and Penelope as the same person."

A variety of gasps and groans greeted this remark. Penelope still sat upright, her eyes fixed on Renée's picture. The older agent went on. "C asked for more, and Trish gave him something, explaining it was from a man named 'Bryce Southern', who was a 'mate' of hers."

Scott leaned over to Virgil and whispered, "You think it's the same Southern we rescued from that plutonium storehouse?" Virgil shrugged and Scott went back to listening.

"This Southern had gone out to her Ladyship's manor and found her not at home," Renée said. "The cook he saw said she didn't know where her Ladyship was. But this Southern did some digging into the backgrounds of the manor staff. One of them, a man named Aloysius Parker, also known as 'Nosey', was of particular interest since he had a criminal record as a 'cat-burglar and second-story man'. C asked if this man was supposed to be with Lady Penelope when she was attacked by pirates, and Trish confirmed that information."

The agent took another sip, and consulted her notes again. "She went on to say that one of her superiors was puzzled by the diplomatic status of 'Riordan's' coffin. He had sent a man, another 'mate' of Trish's, to follow it to Derry and make notes of who came to the wake and funeral. She reported that most of those who went were law-abiding citizens with the exception of, and C jumped in, providing the name 'Nosey Parker'. She confirmed that, and C asked that if Parker were a friend of the deceased, wouldn't it make sense for him to be at the funeral."

Renée stopped for breath, then continued, much more slowly now, as if she wanted to get every word right. "Trish agreed with C, but said that it wasn't Nosey Parker's attendance that had 'made her mate's eyes pop', as she put it, but the person Parker came with. I could hear her pushing something toward her companion. C began to read aloud, and I quote: 'Scott Tracy, son of billionaire recluse, Jefferson Tracy, leaves black tie benefit dinner'."

There were gasps again, and Scott's face paled a bit. He glanced over at Penelope, who was maintaining her posture, her eyes staring almost hypnotically at Renée's face. The agent continued, "He wanted to know how Scott Tracy would know someone like Parker. Trish explained that Lady Penelope was a great friend of the Tracy family, and that Scott knew 'Riordan' from their days at Oxford. She also mentioned that Scott was at Oxford for a year as part of a special program at Yale, the university from which he received his degree."

She took another sip of water, and blew out a breath. "Trish then gave the opinion that C would find Lady Penelope on the other end of his unlisted number, and that she was hiding out with the Tracys, wherever they lived. C remarked that he had heard about the World Navy finding the Tracys living on an island in the south Pacific somewhere, and Trish said it would be a good hiding place. Then she also told C that when they found Lady Penelope, they would also find Alison St. Clair."

There was a moment of silence, then Jeff asked. "Is that all?"

"Yes, Commander. That is the meat of the conversation."

He nodded, though from her perspective she could not see him. "Good work. Please transcribe your account and send it to me in an email attachment for future reference."

"Yes, sir."

"And thank you, Agent 38, for this very important information. We will follow up on it from this end. However, if you hear anything else on this matter, please forward it along as soon as possible."

"I shall, Commander." Renée looked at Penelope with compassion. "I am so sorry, Pink Lady."

Penelope nodded, not trusting herself to say anything more. Jeff bid Renée goodbye, and cut the connection.

The screen's disappearance broke the paralysis in the room. Several people started talking at once, and Jeff held up his hands for quiet. "I know you all have questions, and we need to discuss how this will affect us, if it does at all. Penelope? Are you all right? Are you up to this?"

Penelope nodded again, then took in a deep breath and let it out. "I shall have to be, shan't I?" she asked quietly. She took a moment to look around the room. "I have some other information pertinent to what Agent 38 just passed on to us. I received a call from an old friend of mine yesterday and returned it this morning. Her name is Addison Kennicot and she is the junior Senator from Great Britain to the World Congress. She was the first person I approached in my guise as Alison St. Clair, a guise that did not deceive her, as I discovered later. I used her as an entry to other people and places, but especially to the Minister of Security. She is also the person I approached about ensuring the safety of Peter Riordan's body. As a result, she has been visited by two detectives, one from the local constabulary, and one from Interpol. They have been investigating my... investigating Alison St. Clair's disappearance from the minister's cay."

"When I spoke to her earlier today, she confided that the police have found traces of blood on the beach at the minister's home, and that the DNA of said blood matches Peter Riordan's." There was another collective groan at this news, and Jeff held up his hand again so that Penelope could continue. He nodded at her and she took another deep breath.

"They wanted to know what her connection to the Riordan family was. The upshot of the whole affair was that she gave them my name." She shook her head. "I told her to refer them to Foxleyheath, but they already seem to have been there and questioned Cook. And they have my satellite phone number as well." She shook her head slowly and looked over at the man behind the desk. "I am at a loss, Jeff. I am not sure which way to turn."

"All right, Penny. We'll figure this out. Questions?"

Scott put up a finger. "Penny? This Bryce Southern; is he the man who Virgil and I rescued from that plutonium store?"

Penelope nodded. "Yes, Scott, he is. He was hired on at Interpol a few months after the British Security Service terminated his employment. I believe he works for their terrorism sub-directorate."

"Would he have been the one to watch the wake and funeral?" Alan asked.

"Agent 38's information seems to indicate otherwise," Jeff said.

"And a good thing, too!" Virgil interjected. "He was still semi-conscious while I was deactivating that robot. He might have remembered your face, Scott."

"Th-That's why it's so, uh, important to have those, uh, visors," Brains said. "To, uh, forestall incidents like this. P-Perhaps they should be, uh, issued to the agents as well."

"No, Brains. I'd rather have our agents working in the background wherever possible," Jeff countered. "The visors would call attention to them. But that's a question for another time, Brains. Right now we need to determine what threat this investigation poses to us and how to minimize or eliminate that threat."

Parker, who stood behind Penelope's chair during the report from Renée, harumphed. "Ay must h'apologize, Mr. Tracy. Ay wuz h'able t' remove Peter's h'in-for-may-shun, h'at least from th' most laykely places, but Ay wuz too late, h'it seems."

"Apology accepted, Parker. You had... we had no idea that they had found the blood on the beach or how fast they would move," Jeff said wearily.

"It seems to me," Gordon said thoughtfully, "that the blood on the beach is our main problem. I mean, the story that Penelope gave the press and the police isn't something that can be proven wrong. And it's common knowledge that we're friends with Penelope and vice versa. This 'Trish' brought that out pretty clearly."

"It would be natural for her to visit us after such a shocking experience," Tin-Tin added.

"But... they have the blood evidence," Penelope pointed out. "No one has been able to explain it away, and no one will be able to. Even with Peter's DNA files removed from some of his records, there may still be other places where it may be found. Beyond that, the knowledge of it cannot be removed from the minds of the detectives and others working on the case. That is where the real danger is."

"But what do we do about it?" Alan asked, shrugging, his palms held upward.

There was a tense silence in the room while each tried to think of a way to deal with the situation as it stood. At last Penelope sighed and said, "Perhaps I should... step aside for a time. Go to Bongo-Bongo. Distance myself and draw attention away from you and your family, Jeff. At least until things cool down, as they are almost bound to do. My friend Addison has no idea where I am, and she knows nothing else of interest to tell the detectives that they do not already know." She lowered her head. "Besides, I have had grave misgivings about my position as an agent for International Rescue. Perhaps this is an indication that my time as a secret operative is over."

There was a chorus of "No!', the loudest coming from Virgil, followed a general cacophony of comments made in support of Penelope's remaining as an agent. Jeff stood back and said nothing until the comments had died down. When the group was silent again, he sighed and said, "I need to talk with Penelope alone for a bit. Please, go and get ready for lunch."

They looked at each other uncomfortably, and began to get up, murmuring together. Virgil made a point of reaching out to squeeze Penelope on the shoulder, which caused her to look up and give him a wan smile. Then he left with the others. Penny motioned to Parker, who looked as if he were not going to do as Jeff had asked, and sent him out with the rest.

When the room was clear of all but the two of them, Jeff got up from behind his desk and leaned on the front of it, his hands supporting him as he crossed his legs at the ankles. He gazed at her for a moment then shook his head. "I... I don't know what to say here, Penny. You know how important you are to us, both on a personal and a professional level. Things would not be the same without you. But I've watched you struggle with Peter's death and thought that perhaps it would be better for you to get out from under the pressure this situation has put on you. However, the decision has to be yours."

Penelope raised her eyes to him and Jeff was struck at how incredibly sad she looked. "It's all unraveling, Jeff. I don't know where to turn, or what to do. I feel I must do what I can to protect your secret, but I may have to reveal myself to do so." She looked down, and when she returned her gaze to him, tears were on her cheeks. "I am so torn..."

Jeff stood straight and came over to her, grabbing a box of tissues from one of the small tables as he did. He crouched down to her eye level and handed her one, smiling slightly as she dabbed at her eyes. His face was full of compassion and he put a steadying hand on one of her knees. "I know you're torn, Penny. Right now you have to do what is best for you. You've had a great shock, losing Peter, and if going away for a while is what you need, then that's what you should do. Your place will still be here if and when you want to return."

"But.. what happens if I... if I accidentally reveal your secret, Jeff? I would hate to expose you to the world and especially to your enemies by a careless word..."

Jeff shook his head. "You won't. I know you well enough to say that with certainty. We will find a way to deflect suspicion."

Penny sniffed a bit. "I hope so, Jeff. I truly hope so."

He patted her knee, then stood and offered her his hand. She took it and rose, then stepped close to him, very close, whispering, "Please hold me. Hold me, Jeff."

Hesitantly, he put his arms around her and drew her closer. She came up to just past his chin, and she laid her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. He found himself comparing the situation to when Tin-Tin was so upset on the runaway monorail, but there was an important difference. He had always looked on Tin-Tin as a daughter, and she had always treated him as either an employer or perhaps an uncle. It had been easier to hold her, to comfort her. But Penelope was a different story. He was well aware of her attraction to him; there was no missing the signals she gave. But he found he couldn't reciprocate. Some of it, he knew, was Lucille. Even after seven years he still grieved for his wife. But more important was the age difference. He could not see himself involved with a woman young enough to be his daughter; the thought of it made him shudder. And now... there was a third element, one he hadn't been aware of before. He couldn't put his finger on it but he knew it was there. And it made holding her difficult, even if he did it with the purest intentions.

Penelope shifted in his arms, pulling back a bit so she could see his face. He looked back at her, and his eyes widened as she stroked his face slowly along the jawline with a finger. Her lips were parted, and suddenly, without warning, she pressed them to his own, her eyes closing as if to savor the moment. He stiffened involuntarily, his lips pressing together tightly as her hands met behind his head to pull it down to her level. She kept her mouth on his for what seemed to be an eternity, then she pulled back and the hurt in her eyes at his shocked expression cut him to the quick.

She extricated herself from his embrace and turned from him. "I see," she said softly. "I thought perhaps... but no. I see it all, very clearly."

"Penelope, I..." he began to stammer, moving toward her.

She put out a hand behind her to stop him. "I thought perhaps you were over her. I thought you might be attracted to me."

Jeff took a deep breath, trying to retrieve his scattered wits and say something coherent. "Penny, you're a very attractive woman. But... I just can't. I care for you, yes, but... like a daughter. And a friend. Not... that way," he murmured. "I'm sorry. This is such bad timing..."

"No, Jeff. It's perfect timing," Penny said, her back to him, her arms coming up to hug herself. "Just one more reason why I should leave here and go on to Bongo-Bongo." She dropped her arms and turned around, her chin held high and a pained smile on her face. She held out her hand, a brittle mask of polite detachment now in place. "I will make the arrangements with Parker right now. May we borrow one of your jets? Or would you prefer one of the boys to fly us?"

Her question, and the sudden change in her demeanor, caught him off-guard. He blindly took her hand as he spluttered, "I... I'll make the arrangements..."

"Good." She withdrew her hand, and turned to walk toward the study. "May I leave FAB-1 here for repair? I shan't need it at Bongo-Bongo."

"Of course," he said, beginning to recover his wits. He fell into step behind her, his mind trying to catch up. The whole incident was moving too fast for him; he had hoped to tell her how he felt on his terms and when she was on a more even keel emotionally, not blurt it out like an idiot when she was confused and hurting.

She was on the steps to the study now, and she stopped to turn towards him. "I hope you realize that this... unfortunate episode, in no way will affect our relationship vis-a-vis International Rescue. I will do everything in my power to shield you and your family from discovery." Gazing down at him from the top step, she sighed and said, "Perhaps someday you will put your grief aside. I hope you do; you have so much to offer, Jeff." She glanced down and for once the cool façade cracked and a small sob sounded in her voice. "I just wish... it could have been me." With that, she whipped around and passed hurriedly through the study.

Jeff stood at the bottom of the steps, still stunned at the encounter. He huffed out a breath and slowly returned to his desk. Throwing himself into his chair, he reached into the storage space behind his desk and pulled out his Scotch. He held the bottle up to the light before he poured himself the requisite two-fingers' worth and downed it in one long swallow. Need a new bottle, he thought as he poured himself another libation. He tossed this back, too, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he brought his fingers up to touch his tingling lips, and a memory rose, one of another recent kiss. Warm lips had touched his briefly, and his own had responded in a soft farewell that had come and gone without thought, so natural had been its occurrence.

Suddenly, as if struck by a blow, he knew what the new, third element was in his rejection of Penelope's advances. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, put his elbows on his desktop and dropped his forehead into the heels of his hands. "Oh God," he whispered, shaking his head in stunned awareness. "It's Lou."