Queen's Gambit

"Commander, we don't usually get involved in kidnappings," Scott protested, folding his arms over his dressing gown.

"That's right," Virgil agreed. "I still think the local police or the FBI should take care of this."

"We're getting involved in this one." Jeff, now fully awake, dressed, and fortified with strong coffee, glared back at his sons from behind his desk. "And you heard what... she... had to say, Delta."

Once Jeff had heard Lou's story, he had hurried to the lounge and activated the emergency signal. This woke the members of the household who were still asleep, and brought them at a run. He transferred Lou's call back to the vidphone behind his desk and had her tell her story again. John was also awakened to listen in, which meant they needed to use code names. It still wasn't second nature to any of them, and for once, Jeff regretted that he'd made the policy

"Jim Franks, my former partner and one of the people involved in that assault in North Carolina, has my sister as hostage. He wants the disk of information that I got from my late co-worker, the one with the data on International Rescue. He gave me three hours to get from where I am to the airport at Biddeford, Maine, where I'm supposed to wait for more instructions." Lou sighed. "If I had my pilot's license under my current... alias, I'd be able to charter a small plane and fly up there within the allotted time. But I don't, so I can't. Not only that, but there's no one around here I can call on for backup. A good cop doesn't go into a dangerous situation without someone she trusts watching her back; though if I know Franks, I'm sure he'll think I'm coming alone. After all, that's what he specified."

She closed her eyes and looked away slightly. "I'm turning to you, J... uh, and your, uh, operatives to help me out here. Help me get to Maine, and watch my back while I'm there. I can't do this by myself. And..." They saw her bite her lower lip, trying to control her emotions. When she looked up, there were unmistakable tears in her eyes. "And my sister's life is at stake. If you can't do it for me, do it for her. Another rescue, if you will."

"Why can't you call the police or the FBI?" Virgil asked.

"The FBI has no jurisdiction because the crime doesn't cross state lines. So it'll have to be the locals who take the case, either the state police or, more likely, the county sheriff's office. And I know this man. He'll have a police scanner and he knows what kind of chatter to listen for."

"What about the disk?" Alan asked.

"She destroyed it, Alan. I saw her do it," Jeff cut in.

Lou added. "With or without the disk, I just can't not go... she's my only sister and she's in trouble because of me."

"And ultimately, she's in trouble because of us," Tin-Tin remarked softly.

Jeff nodded. "That's very true, Theta." Then he assured Lou of their help, and that he would call back shortly with more details.

"I still don't understand why we're getting involved." Scott challenged, his pose and voice suddenly becoming defiant.

"Because this is a friend of ours, a very old and dear friend. Because this woman has put in yeoman's work trying to keep us from exposure, putting herself on the line for us. Because what this man wants has to do with our security. And because we're the only ones who can help," Jeff angrily shot back, scowling. "You heard her. She knows this guy inside and out. If the police are called in, he'll know and he'll kill her sister. It's as plain as that. Now, she has less than three hours to get to Maine. Here's our plan."

"First, she needs transportation that can get her there in time. That means Thunderbird One. Second, she needs backup. Alpha, you and Omicron are to be that backup. I want you armed and dressed for combat, not for rescue. No IR uniforms this time, but visors, caps, and your IR ordnance. If there's another emergency while we're gone, Delta, you're in charge. I can send Alpha from anywhere in the world to help if necessary, but if there's a call, you are to launch Two, taking Sigma and Theta with you. Rho can man the desk."

"What are you going to be doing, Commander?" Alan asked, frowning.

"I'm going with Alpha and Omicron in Thunderbird One, but only as far as Los Angeles," Jeff explained. "There's just enough room in One for three people, and she would make four. So, you'll drop me off in L.A., Alpha, and I'll pick up the J... I'll pick up my jet and follow to Maine. Epsilon, get coordinates for a landing spot in Gardiner, NY, so Delta can call her and tell her to be there. ETA from Thunderbird One's launch will be roughly 45 minutes. Alpha, you'll pick her up and fly her out to Portland." He turned to Alan. "Sigma, I want you on the horn to Agent 173 and warn her of our arrival time at LAX. I'll need her to meet me out on the tarmac and drive me to the terminal, using a circuitous route."

"173's good at that," Gordon said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "She's also good at getting lost."

"She won't get lost today, Omicron," Jeff replied, smiling grimly. "Not with me in the car. Sigma, I also want you to put our New England agents on alert. Find out whoever is closest to Portland and have them meet Omicron at the airport in a car. He'll be land-based backup, while Alpha will provide aerial backup."

"How will we be able to keep track of her?" Gordon asked.

Jeff ducked into his drawer and pulled out a small plastic bag. "Make her eat one of these," he said, tossing it to Gordon. "In fact, don't leave the ground until she does! Tell her I ordered it. That might help."

The aquanaut caught the bag and smiled at the edible transmitters inside. "I'm so glad we've dispensed with these!"

"Enough, Omicron. Okay, everyone. You have your orders. Thunderbirds are go!"

"Calling LAX tower. This is International Rescue Thunderbird One, requesting emergency landing clearance," Scott intoned as they approached Los Angeles. He and Gordon were all dressed in black with visors covering their faces and the baseball caps covering their hair. Their father was dressed in dark clothes, and wore the face-concealing visor, but wore a leather bomber jacket to hide the shoulder holster he carried. The plan was for them to touch down briefly, let him out so he could dash into the car that Agent 173, also known as Mo Hedinori, would have waiting, and then lift off again, not even shutting down the engines. Then they were to rendezvous with Lou at a park near her home.

"I'm sorry, but I live out in a rural area. The nearest airport is across the Hudson," she had told Virgil when he had called back.

"LAX Tower to International Rescue Thunderbird One," the air traffic controller replied. "Your request for emergency landing clearance is granted. Will you require runway?" Since International Rescue had started operations, it had become common knowledge that the Thunderbirds were equipped with VTOL thrusters and didn't need a runway for landing anywhere. Still, it was standard operating procedure to offer it.

"Negative, LAX tower," Scott returned. "I require no runway and will be on the ground for less than ten minutes."

"Roger that, Thunderbird One. Use helijet pad four."

"Roger, LAX tower, and thanks."

Jeff stirred. He had spent the journey up to then thinking about Lou and just what his relationship with her was. I always knew how important her friendship was to Lucille, but never realized the impact she had on me. She's the one person outside our family with whom I can be "just Jeff". Like I was with Lucille. Just me, the guy from Kansas whose only desire in life was to fly. Not the billionaire, not the hero, not the commander. Maybe that's another reason why I couldn't give Penny what she wanted. She seemed to subtly want me to be someone different, someone bigger than life. Lou accepts me, warts and all. He rubbed the back of his neck. Lou said she thought karma wasn't quite finished with us yet. Is it really possible to get a second chance?

"Ready to go, Commander?" Gordon asked as Scott brought Thunderbird One to a gentle touchdown on the tarmac.

"Ready as I'll ever be. I'll see you two in Portland," the older man said. He grabbed the briefcase he had brought with him as he prepared to leave.

Scott opened the hatch, and the ladder eased down to the helijet pad. Jeff climbed down carefully, stiff from the flight. The gusts from Thunderbird One's VTOL's threatened to whip off his cap, and he held onto it as he hurried to the waiting sedan. He gave his sons a thumbs up as he opened the door, then he slipped inside.

The sedan pulled away and Thunderbird One lifted skyward again. "LAX tower, this is Thunderbird One. We are now en route to our next destination. Thanks for the assist."

"Thunderbird One, this is LAX tower. Glad to help out."

"Hey, Mr. T. Good to see you!" Mo cried when he got into the car. "Where to?"

"Tracy Industries hangar, but... take the long way 'round. Don't need people seeing us come from Thunderbird One and pull directly up to the hangar."

"F-A-B, sir!" she said with a mock-serious tone, saluting. "The JT-1 is fueled up and ready, and I've got the car with the chameleon paint."

"Even better," Jeff said as he leaned against the window to watch the dwindling speck that was Thunderbird One. He drew his gaze away from the sky and glanced over to nod at Mo. "Let's get this show on the road."

Shelly shifted her position slightly to make herself more comfortable. The floor was carpeted, but it was very old carpet with padding that had seen better years. She sat cross-legged on the floor, moving her arms up and down at the elbows as much as she could, trying to keep the circulation going in her hands. She dearly wished he hadn't gagged her; but after his call to Lou, she had started in screaming at him, and he got sick of it fast, real fast. The bruise on her right cheek had been one payback for the verbal abuse; the gag was another.

Franks, as she now knew him to be, turned from the portable police scanner that had occupied his time since he had gagged her and glanced over at her from halfway across the room. "Uncomfortable are we, Shelly?" She glared back at him as she had all afternoon. The light was beginning to fail as the gloomy day wore on; soon even the large picture window wouldn't provide enough light to see by. However, Franks was confident that the tangle of evergreen bushes, which hid the house from the main road, would be enough to hide the glow of the lantern he had brought. Besides, he wasn't planning on being there very long after dark.

His eyes narrowed in thought as he looked at the older woman. He levered himself up onto his feet and approached her, liking the way she had to tilt her head back so far to keep him in view. Crouching down so that they were at near eye level again, he took out his gun and drew the warmed metal barrel slowly across her cheek. "You know, Shelly," he said conversationally as he slid the barrel down the side of her neck, "I've heard that women over forty are far more... shall we say, amorous... than their younger counterparts. I wonder if that's true?" The gun continued down, the end pushing aside her v-neck scrubs top and slowly tracing her collarbone. He smiled as he saw the muscles in Shelly's jaw clench tight and her eyes try to follow his movements, staying away from his face. "We could find out right now." Her head whipped around and she stared at him, wide-eyed with terror. He shook his head slightly and sighed. "No, I'd better save my energy for Luci; I'm sure she'll be a wildcat with me."

He got up and walked over to his scanner. Shelly's shoulders slumped in relief. Looking back at her, he said, "It would only be poetic justice, you know. Luci turned me in for romancing a witness. Oh, it was supposedly an 'anonymous' tip, but I knew where it came from. It finished my career in Interpol. Still, once I bring Luci back to my current employer, I expect to be rewarded handsomely." Chuckling at Shelly's look of surprise, he said, "Yes, Shelly. The disk I want is important, but not as important as your sister. My employer really wants to meet her." He glanced at his watch. "Seventy-five minutes."

Franks sat down by the scanner again. Shelly swallowed behind the gag, her jaw muscles relaxing. I wish there were some way I could warn her, she thought in despair. But right now, he's got all the cards.

She glanced up at him again, and jumped, generating a muffled scream, her heart leaping into her throat. He was resting his gun on his forearm, which was propped on his knee, and sighting down its length as he pointed it straight at her. "Bang!" he said, laughing at her fright.

Shelly turned her face away, ashamed of how he'd managed to scare her. She was even more uncomfortable now, her panties were damp from her reaction. Tears of fear and frustration began to well up, dripping onto her scrubs. She felt small and helpless, and she wondered if her sister would be able to make it in time.

Lou waited in the cover of some evergreen trees at the community park not far from Gardiner. Her van was safe in the parking lot, and the park was deserted, as the day had been rainy and raw. She wore dark clothes with the exception of her wine-red leather coat, and had a small black case slung over one shoulder. Her trusty Beretta, Oscar, rested in the case, along with some other bits of equipment she thought she might need. Consulting her watch, she sighed heavily. Virgil told her that his father had dispatched Thunderbird One, their fastest aircraft, to pick her up. I just hope it can get me to Portland in time, she fretted.

The sound of a jet engine coming closer captured her attention and she looked upward. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as Thunderbird One arrived. "Oh, my God!" she whispered as the craft lowered towards the soccer field, wreathed by smoke, wings spread out fully, looking impressively powerful and sleek as it landed, light as a feather. She could still hear the engines running even though the flame of the VTOL jet was muted. A ladder appeared from under the body of the craft, and a figure in black with a shiny visor across half his face beckoned to her with an arm. Taking a deep breath, she sprinted across the field and ducked (though she didn't need to) under the wings to join the man who stood there. "Up you go!" came the familiar tenor voice of Gordon, as he indicated the ladder. She nodded, her face full of excitement, and climbed up into the 'Bird.

"Hello, Aunt Lucinda," came another familiar voice from above her. A man with Scott's very familiar dimples looked down at her with a small smile.

"Hello... what should I call you?" she asked.

"Alpha is my code name. His is Omicron."

"That's right, Greek letters. Very good," she said approvingly. "Wow! I saw the sketches and some long distance vid on that disk, but... they don't do justice to the reality! Your Thunderbird is magnificent!"

Her unbridled praise thawed Scott's still stubborn attitude a touch. "Thank you, Aunt Lou." He nodded toward Gordon. "Omicron? Don't you have something for our passenger?"

"F-A-B," Gordon said, digging into his pocket for the bag. "Here. Eat one of these."

Lou glanced from one young man to another. "What are they?"

"Transmitters," Scott replied. "I have orders from the commander not to budge until you've eaten one. He wants us to be able to keep track of you at all times."

"Edible transmitters?" she asked giving them each a skeptical look. "Did you eat one?"

"No, no," Gordon said with glee. "We don't have to anymore. We're microchipped."

"Ah, yes. Your fa... uh... commander said something about that." She pulled one from the bag and examined it carefully. "Will it... pass through in a few hours?"

Gordon chuckled. " 'Fraid not," he replied. "You'll have to drink some solvent to get rid of it."

"The transmitters taste good," Scott remarked, looking out his viewport. "Please eat it now so we can haul butt out of here."

"Oh, all right." Lou popped it in her mouth and found it easy to swallow. "Mmmm. You're right. Raspberry."

"Open your mouth," Gordon coaxed. "I want to make sure you ate it."

Lou shook her head, then opened her mouth wide and waggled her tongue at him. He chuckled again and said, "Okay, it's gone. Alpha, let's grab some air."

"ETA to Portland, eight minutes," Scott said as he took Thunderbird One back up into the sky.

Alan sat in his father's chair, having just spoken with the agent who covered Maine and New Brunswick. That particular agent was on his way, but closer still was Virgil's old friend Angela, Agent 22. She was only an hour or so from Portland and would reach the airport there before the Maine agent could. Alan had made sure it was all right with her to take on this mission.

"Two calls in one week!" she had exclaimed excitedly. "I haven't done so much for IR in a long time. Sure, I'll help however I can."

The youngest Tracy was relieved. After he had heard about the letter, he wondered if those friends of his who were agents were still in the network. He and Kenny had talked a lot about the letter while they worked on FAB-1, and it seemed that his friend was thinking it over thoroughly. I'd hate for us to lose him as an agent, but even if we did, at least I'd know it wasn't a rash decision. And he'd still be my friend.

"Base from Thunderbird Five," John said, coming into view on his portrait. Alan reached over and touched the button as Virgil approached the desk.

"Thunderbird Five from base, we read you five by five. What's the word, Epsilon?" Virgil asked.

"Thunderbird One has arrived in Portland, and has landed on one of their helijet pads. Agent 22 is fifteen minutes from the airport."

"How much time will we have from Agent 22's arrival before our subject needs to be where she's supposed be to get her instructions?"

"Fifty-five minutes."

"What's the Commander's ETA to the rescue zone?" Alan chimed in.

"About thirty minutes after Agent 22 arrives."

"That gives him enough time to rendezvous with the team, then." Virgil said.

"Yes, it does, though it's cutting things rather fine." John paused, then sighed. "I don't understand why Alpha was being such a bear about this."

"It's not our place to play vigilante," Virgil explained, holding out his palms as he sat on the edge of the desk top..

"But we have before," the space monitor countered. "Several times. The whole episode with the Pink Lady..."

"That was different," the musician said, waving a dismissive hand. "She's an agent."

"So what?" Alan challenged. "Our 'Aunt' has been doing as much as any agent to keep us safe from exposure. I say she deserves our help."

There was a moment of utter silence, then John said quietly, "Virge, Al, it's never before been a matter of who deserves our help, in any situation. And in those situations where we've been acting as 'vigilantes', it's never been that we only rescue our own."

Virgil looked thoughtful and nodded. "You're right. It never has been."

Alan added fervently, "I hope it never will be."

Jeff swore. The storm that was blanketing the eastern seaboard was slowing him down more than he had anticipated. He had to gain altitude to fly over it, which meant a longer descent and a longer flight time. He spoke into the hands free unit that sat uncomfortably in his ear. I'd probably be used to it if I wore it more, he realized. Maybe I should use my earpiece on the vidphone all the time. It might help me get accustomed to this... thing. "Commander to Thunderbird Five, do you read?"

"Thunderbird Five here," John's voice sounded loud in his ear, and Jeff winced, wondering, Is there a volume control on this? John continued, "What's your situation, Commander?"

"I am being slowed down by the weather system that iscovering the east coast," he told his son. "Revised ETA, twenty-five minutes. Tell Thunderbird One to hold position until I can get there. The ground crew should go on ahead."

He could hear the hesitation in John's voice as he said, "F-A-B, Commander. Will pass along the message." Yes, John. I know that will put me five minutes over the rendezvous time, but I can't help it. And I do want to be there when we take this bastard down!

On the ground in Portland, Lou was ready to go. She reluctantly left her gun with Gordon. "He specified unarmed and will probably frisk me at some point during the proceedings." She pulled off the bandage she had put over her scratches, and replaced it with a fresh one. Then she carefully slipped a very thin wafer of stiff, white material between the padding of the bandage and the flexible outer layer. Reaching into her case, she handed a small device to Gordon. It looked like a music player, one small enough to fit into a shirt pocket. "Put the plug in your ear and turn it on," she instructed.

He obeyed, giving her an skeptical glance. When he had finished, she put her hand on her knee and said in a normal tone, "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah. I can... whoa!" Gordon sat back as he heard his own voice coming from his mouth and echoing back through the plug in his ear.

"Good. Do you hear any thumping?"

Gordon shook his head. "No, I don't"

"Excellent. That means you're not picking up my pulse. I've always got to be careful where I put this; sometimes a heartbeat or pulse has been detected by whoever was listening. If you need to turn down the volume, go ahead. And if you remove the earplug and touch this switch," she took the device from him and demonstrated, "that activates the speaker."

"Cool!" Gordon said, turning down the volume immediately as he heard his own voice coming out of the speaker. "Where'd you get this?"

"Interpol. A later invention that Franks might not be aware of. It was developed after his dismissal," Lou explained. "Uh, Alpha? Do you want to tune in to the frequency this is on?"

"Sure," Scott replied. "The Commander will feel better if he can hear what's going on."

He took the device and tuned his on-board communicator to the frequency of the small receiver, eliciting a feedback shriek from his speakers. Lou moved quickly to retrieve the device and turn it off. She handed it back to Gordon.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five," John's voice sounded in Scott's ear. "Agent 22 has arrived at your location and is waiting for passengers. And the commander will be late. His orders are for Thunderbird One to hold position until he arrives. The ground crew should go on as scheduled."

Scott glanced over at Lou and Gordon, and said simply, "Your ride is here."

"Then we should go," Lou said softly. "It will take a few minutes to get to Biddeford and I'd rather be early than late."

"F-A-B," Gordon said. He handed her a visor and a cap. "You might as well look official. I'm sure there are people watching us, even though we're at the helijet pad farthest from the terminal."

"Right." She donned the gear and picked up her case. "Let's go."

Scott opened the hatch, and Gordon lowered the ladder. He climbed down first and waited for her to do the same. Scott watched them hurry across the tarmac toward the helijet terminal and the parking lot beyond. "Good luck, Gords, Aunt Lou," he said quietly. "I think we're all going to need it."