Epilogue

Early the next morning, Jeff checked out of the bed and breakfast, bidding a warm farewell to his hosts. He packed his things into the rental sports car, and pulled out of the drive. But instead of going down the gravel road, he went up and pulled into the now-familiar driveway.

The house was quiet, as quiet as the area around it. He got out of the car, and the memory of his first encounter with Lou and Oscar came to mind. He smiled, then approached the porch. The vertical blinds were open a bit, but no inquisitive cat parted them further to see who was at the door. The view of the room was an empty one, no furniture and what remained of the photo collage was a group of slightly lighter spots on the far wall. He turned to the door and found the brass knocker there, still bearing the name of "Myles". He smoothed a finger over the surface, feeling the minute grooves that made up the etched letters

She left this behind.

"I've got to disappear as completely as possible. Leave Lucinda Myles behind and become someone else."

Yes, Lou. But who will you be? And will I see you again?

"We will see each other again, of that I'm sure. I have a funny feeling that karma's not through with us yet."

I've never believed in karma, Lou. But I agree. Fate, destiny, whatever you call it isn't finished with us. I just hope that wherever you end up, you love it as much as you loved this place.

He sighed, and smiled a bit, then turned and walked back to his car. Within moments he was on the road, heading for the airport and his flight home.

The Mercedes carried Franks and Ramirez to a private hanger at the Unity City jetport. By this time, Ramirez had regained his composure. He and Franks left the Mercedes and headed over to a waiting helijet. The secretary had a quick word with his driver about the necessity of a "clean up" crew at the empty building they had left. The driver nodded and opened up his phone to make a call. Ramirez explained Franks's presence as he had with the driver; the pilot merely nodded and took up her position in the cockpit. The two men sat in plush captain's chairs in the passenger cabin. Ramirez had not seen Franks's gun, but he knew that the man hadn't holstered it and had it ready for whenever it was needed.

The pilot received clearance from the tower and the jet climbed into the bright blue sky. Franks, who had laid the computer case to one side of his chair, examined the cabin with appreciation. A young woman with a bright white smile and a uniform made up of a very short skirt and a white blouse with a plunging neckline, approached the two and took orders for drinks. Ramirez ordered a fine South American wine, while Franks waved her away.

"So, where are we going?" Franks asked, examining his fingernails.

"To your audience with His Excellency," Ramirez replied. "My employer is currently enjoying the comforts of his private cay in the Exumas. It is why we ride by helijet; there isn't enough room for a runway."

"Ah, I see."

The stewardess, if she could be called one, came and brought Ramirez his drink and reiterated her invitation for refreshments to Franks. He shook his head again, and the woman retired to the rear of the cabin, out of earshot.

"You know," Ramirez began after a sip of his wine. "I could kill you now and dump your body for the sharks."

Franks smiled slightly, gauging his opponent from under heavy eyelids. "You could. But you won't."

"And why not?"

"First, I am armed and do have my gun trained on you." A slight movement and the gun surfaced from between the inner side of the seat and Franks's thigh. Ramirez raised an eyebrow.

"Second," he continued, "You're probably just as curious about me as I am of you and your employer. You want to know how and where I got your name."

Ramirez sat back and sipped his wine. "This is fascinating. Please continue."

"Finally, you need me. You need me to verify the information on this disk." Franks patted his jacket again, feeling the reassuring contours of the disk.

"Why would I need you to verify it?" Ramirez asked. "What I saw looked very legitimate."

"I'm sure it does. But I know where it came from and more importantly who it came from. Lucinda Myles is a pack rat when it comes to information, but she's also an idealist to an extent. If she could come up with something to throw you off of International Rescue's track, she would."

Ramirez nodded his head. "Ah, I see. But don't you think we would have the resources to check the bona fides of this disk ourselves?"

"You might have the people, but would they know where to look? I do."

"We shall see. For the time being, you are a guest of my employer. You may put your gun away." Ramirez smiled. "Such an interesting weapon. I heard hardly any noise at all."

"I had it custom made. The silencer is part of the gun barrel itself," Franks explained. "But I think I will keep it handy, especially since you mentioned tossing me to the fish."

"As you wish."

The pilot's voice called out in the local tongue that they were approaching the private cay. "We are here, Mr. Franks," Ramirez said. "Now you can meet my true employer."

"So, have we covered everything from the list?" Jeff asked from his chair behind the desk. He had been home for two days now. His sons, Brains, Tin-Tin, and even Alan and Lady Penelope via portrait communicator, were gathered to discuss the new security protocols that Lou had recommended.

"Yes, Father," Virgil replied. "But it's going to be hard getting used to the new code names."

"I don't think so," John said. "Astronomy is always using the Greek alphabet for identification. And when we're with our 'Birds, we'll just keep doing the 'Thunderbird from Thunderbird' business that we've always done. It's just when we are face-to-face or speaking person-to-person that the code names come in."

"Still, for those of us without the military and astronomy background, it will take some time to adjust," Virgil complained.

Jeff turned his attention from the budding argument to speak to Tin-Tin. "What do you think about the uniforms? Can you come up with a more workable model?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Tracy. Something that is less distinctive in some ways and more functional in others. With a billed cap and a visor to help cover the face. I intend to use some Heads Up display technology in the visors so that pertinent information can be downloaded quickly. I can even add a display like what we see in our watches. And her suggestion of an earphone and boom mike is a good one."

"Yeah, we usually need our hands free for rescuing," Gordon said with a grin. "Hey, Tin-Tin. How about putting our names on the uniforms? That way old John over here can ditch his lavender and we can still tell who is who."

Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gordon. That's enough." He took a deep breath and turned to Penelope. "Penny, will François Lemaire cooperate? Will we be able to use Penelon?"

"Jeff, I am certain he will cooperate. He has a high regard for International Rescue and is very grateful. I foresee no problems," Penelope said, smiling warmly.

"Good. Thank you for interceding on our behalf, Penny. I appreciate it." Jeff tapped a stylus against his chin. "I'd like to see if we can merge the Penelon, which is lightweight and portable, with something durable that won't rip or tear easily. Take a look at what's out there, Tin-Tin, and get back to me."

"Yes, sir."

"M-Mr. Tracy, I looked into the, uh, subcutaneous tracer technology that w-was suggested," Brain said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "It seems that it, uh, has b-been around for a l-long time. It's just been over the, uh, past few years that it's been used extensively in h-humans. It's been a t-trend to implant the tracers in ch-children to keep track of their wh-whereabouts. W-We should have n-no problem, uh, adapting it for our use."

"Excellent. That means we'll be able to pretty much dispense with the wrist telecomms. Perhaps use them as back up and here around the island," Jeff said, nodding. "Any ideas on camouflage for the Thunderbirds themselves?"

"S-Several. The problem is to, uh, sift through and f-find out which will best suit our needs," Brains said. "When the b-background checks are completed on, uh, Deirdre, I would like to discreetly share this p-problem with her."

"Contingent on her background check," Jeff replied. "There's a shipment of gloves and reflective sunglasses on its way. Small items, but an important start." He looked around the room, making eye contact with each person. "Any other questions?"

Scott cleared his throat. "You've got the information on the last few rescues. Mobile Control was virtually useless in those situations. In fact, it's becoming more and more evident that we need every hand we can get on some of these rescues, including whoever should be at Mobile Control. I'd like to suggest we find a way to make the unit smaller, perhaps even as small as a laptop. Or perhaps to incorporate it in Thunderbird One's controls."

"A good suggestion, Scott. It will be next on the list after the security upgrades," Jeff assured him. His eyes traveled around the room again. "Anything else?"

"Jeff? I have an update on the incident in Unity City and our quarry, James Franks," Penelope began. "As you know, the two murdered people were one Olivia Murphy, a former US Marshall turned mercenary, and Pedro Luis Ortega. We had trouble tracking Señor Ortega's background; it seems he is employed as a member of the Unity City Bodyguard Service, but exactly who had hired him for the day has been withheld by the police and our agents have not been able to discover it on their own. This ties in with Agent 53's identification of the Mercedes having special government license. Agent 38 is trying to gain access to the rest of the Service's photos, hoping that Agent 53 can identify the other bodyguard. The only thing that has been positively determined is that the man Agent 53 saw come out with Franks is not one of the ministers themselves. We are still trying to narrow down exactly who he is. When we do, we shall be closer to finding Franks." She sighed slightly. "We seem to be running around in circles here, Jeff. I am sorry."

"No need to be, Penny. The fact is that we have eyes and ears looking for him and he can't stay in hiding forever," Jeff said stoutly. "Keep up the good work. Does anyone have anything else to bring up?"

"Grandma is feeling better," Virgil offered.

"Yes, it seems she is." On his return, Jeff had undergone a half-hour harangue from Eleanor about honesty and spending too much time "gallivanting" when there was work to be done. He silenced her by mentioning Maru Soo, and the message he had been charged to convey.

"Maru Soo? Haven't talked to her in a donkey's age. Email's not the same," Eleanor said, frowning. Then after giving Jeff a baleful glare and a warning that he hadn't heard the last of the issue, she took herself off to phone her old friend.

"If there's nothing more, then we're adjourned," he announced. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was at his computer, tapping away.

"D'you think Dad's okay?" John asked Virgil as they left the room for the balcony. "I mean, he's spent a lot of time on the computer since he's been home."

"Yeah, I'm wondering about that myself," the musician replied. "I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was 'checking his email'."

"And I bet I know why," Gordon said as he came up behind them. "He's looking for something from Lou."

"But he just left her," John commented, puzzled. "And if she's trying to hide, why would she contact him?"

"I dunno. I'm just giving you my impression," Gordon replied, shrugging. The three young men turned when they heard a loud, "Hot damn!" come from the lounge.

"Let's go see," Virgil suggested. The three Tracy sons agreed, and they quietly re-entered the room.

Jeff had been logging on to the website where Lou had left the emails with the attachments. He logged in several times a day, looking for that elusive email message. This time, he logged in, only to be disappointed again with an empty inbox. He was about to log out again when he heard a chime and a message came up. It said it was from "Marvin K. Mooney" and the title read, "Will you please call now?"

He shouted, and opened the email. It had just two lines of text, a phone number and the words "Gardiner, NY" within. Grinning, he dialed the number, waiting impatiently for the vidphone to pick up on the other end. But when the call went through he was startled. The recipient had selected "voice only" and the woman who answered said, "Hello, Cindy Lou heah. Who may Ah ask is speakin'?"

"Uh, This is Jeff, Jeff Tracy. I might have a wrong number..."

The vid went on and Jeff was confronted with a woman of Lou's age. She had dark red hair done up in tight curls that framed her face. Her eyes were blue, and she had a beauty mark on her upper left cheek. She was heavily made up and her bright red lipstick made her face look pale beneath the powder. The woman said, "Well, hello theah, strangeuh," in a thick Southern drawl. "Cindy Lou Kellay, at yoah suhvice." She winked at him, then grinned. "But yew, suh, can jest call me 'Lou'."

Jeff shook his head, then relaxed and sat back. "God, it's so good to see you... Lou."