Unassailable Logic

The new week saw things getting back to normal. A.J. came back from his visit home a very happy young man.

"We watched movies and ate popcorn together, and actually played catch... or at least tried to. I'm a lousy catcher, and Dad... well, he's no great shakes at pitching either." A.J.'s grin wouldn't stop as he described his weekend to Fermat on Sunday night. "And best of all... he tore up the transfer papers. He's decided I can stay!"

Fermat grinned back and offered a high five. "Hey, that's g-g-great, A.J.! I'm g-g-g... happy your dad came around."

A.J. slapped Fermat's outstretched hand. "More than that, he's going to start working out of New York instead of Geneva; says he wants to stay closer to home. I think it was something that Mr. Tracy said at dinner." A.J.'s demeanor turned momentarily thoughtful. "And maybe something your dad said, too. I'm not sure. But whatever it was, I'm so glad I'm staying!" He pumped his fist, the wide grin returning. "Yes! I can hardly wait to tell the guys at breakfast!"

Alan felt odd not going to the early breakfast with the other athletes. I'll have to ask Zave if I should keep going, even though I'm benched. It'd make sure everyone knew that I'm still part of the team, even if I'm not back to playing yet.

He checked his campus mailbox after lunch. He rarely did so; it wasn't like he got a lot of surface mail, as most everything came electronically. His grandmother in Kansas still sent him old-fashioned letters and cards from time to time. He hadn't paid much attention to them last year, but had vowed that this year would be different.

This time there was quite a pile. A letter from his grandmother, dated the week after school started, which made Alan cringe. Several official items from various school departments, including the approved roommate assignment forms and copies of his various late-to-class passes. There was also an envelope full of authorized absence notes that were sent to his teachers. "Accident or illness" had been put down as the reason he had been excused from the week's classes. He sighed. I have so much work to make up! It's a good thing I am benched!

In the middle of the pile, under a "One week athletic shoe sale!" ad from the place he'd gotten his track shoes, was a plain white envelope with a Pittsfield postmark. The delivery information was handwritten, and there was no return address to be found. The penmanship was unfamiliar, and Alan puzzled over it for a long while on his way to class. Finally, he shoved it into his backpack with the rest of his mail and put it out of his mind as he resumed the soothingly normal routine of school.

"I'm sorry, Jeff, but a judge isn't going to issue a restraining order based on one supervised visit." Art Trumbull shook his head. "If there was a pattern of harassment..."

"I don't want there to be a 'pattern' of harassment, Art." Jeff scowled, tapping his stylus on the desktop in a frenzied tattoo. "I want that man – and his son – kept away from Alan!"

"I understand that, Jeff," Art replied, meeting Jeff's anger with an unruffled calm. "You're better off informing the school of your wishes and letting them handle the situation. If Dr. Sugimoto visits Alan again, or there's any communication between Lee and Alan, then we can rethink it. But it's not going to fly. Not even for Jeff Tracy."

"Damn!" Jeff threw the stylus down. It skittered off the desk, falling to clatter on the smooth hardwood floor.

"Look, Jeff," Art said, his tone conciliatory. "You've got a club to hold over Sugimoto if you want: the help Brains and my firm are giving – at your request – to help him cement his patent. If he keeps bothering Alan, you can lean on him... or have me lean on him."

"I don't even want to be involved in that matter," Jeff groused. He paused, ran a hand through his hair, then sighed. "Okay, Art. We'll play it your way... until given cause to do otherwise."

"Good call, Jeff. Tell me if there are any other incidents. Okay?"

"I'll keep you informed."

Art nodded. "By the way, Jeff, I've decided to keep Andrew at Wharton. I'll be going out to see him again this weekend."

Jeff smiled a little. "What made you change your mind?"

"He did." Art grinned. "We did some fun things over the weekend, and it made me realize how much I'd really missed. I figure that I'll miss even more if I don't make an effort to close the gap. Not to mention how often I heard, 'Alan this' and 'Fermat that' and all the other names in their little group." He sat back, using the thumb and first two fingers on each hand to twirl an old-fashioned yellow pencil between them. "He needs good friends, and he might as well stay where he's making some."

"Good thinking." Jeff leaned back in his chair, too. "Thanks for the legal advice, Art, even if it's not what I wanted to hear."

"You're welcome, Jeff. I'll keep abreast on the legal situation in Pittsfield, make sure everything's covered in case they have to go to trial. I hope they don't, for Alan's sake." Art nodded once, then added, "Talk to you later, Jeff."

"Right, Art. Have a good day."

The call terminated, and, with a sigh, Jeff got up to retrieve his stylus. As he stood, dropping the tool on his desk, there was a knock at the office door. "Come in."

Brains opened the door a little at first, peering in as if to gauge Jeff's mood. The latter waved him inside, and he entered, a data pad in hand.

"What's up, Brains?" Jeff returned to his chair and focused his attention on the engineer.

"I have g-g-good news," Brains stuttered. "I've found a way to bl-bl-bl... jam the signal from the new c-c-camera tech."

Jeff sat up straight, his interest piqued. "That is good news. Show me what you've got."

Brains nodded, and together they went over the plans to disrupt Dr. Sugimoto's invention and its imitators.

"Hey, Dom!" Alan called as he entered the room after classes.

"Hi, Alan! Sorry I can't stick around, but I've got a yearbook meeting..." Dom grinned at his roommate as he tied his shoes. "The photographers will be here next Wednesday, and there's a lot of scheduling to be done before then."

Alan groaned. He moved toward his desk and put his backpack down beside it. "Tie and suit coat day?"

" 'Fraid so," Dom replied, a commiserating look on his face. "Freshmen and sophomores don't have to wear them until Thursday. Juniors and seniors are photographed on Wednesday. Then teams, clubs, and faculty will have pictures taken on Friday."

"Must be a scheduling nightmare," Alan said, frowning a little as he thought over the ramifications of Dom's job. He shrugged out of his jacket, wincing a little at the motion.

"Yeah." Dom sighed. "Especially when people don't show up. Trying to track them down for the make-up day is a bear."

"At least my face will be in better shape by then," Alan said as he put the jacket away.

"I hope so! What you've got now might break the camera!" Dom quipped. He straightened, retrieved a heavy cardigan from where it lay on his bed, and grabbed a backpack – not his usual one, but a blue and white bag with the Wharton crest, and "Property of Wharton Academy" stenciled on it. "See ya at dinner!"

"Yeah, see ya," Alan said, giving Dom a wave as the latter hurried out. He sighed, opened his backpack and pulled out his math book. The mail he'd stuffed in there earlier came spilling out with it. He swore and began picking up the pieces, throwing out the junk, putting the important things on his desk. The plain envelope caught his eye.

"Wonder who this is from?" he muttered as he sat down to open it. "I don't know anyone in Pittsfield."

He pulled from the envelope a single, small sheet of cream colored paper, folded once. He unfolded it and frowned as he saw that the top and bottom of the paper had been neatly shorn, as if to remove incriminating marks of some kind. His frown deepened when he read the long, left-oriented scrawl.

"Alan, I really need to talk to you. You're the only one who can help me. Please come to see me at the county jail.

Lee Sugimoto"

"How does she look?"

Gordon turned from the diagnostic computer hooked up to Thunderbird Three. "She looks good; I think fuel consumption was even better on this trip than before." He downloaded the statistics onto a data stick. "Did Brains tweak the fuel mix or something?"

"I don't think so," Scott said as he looked over is brother's shoulder at the readouts. "Actually, he hasn't had time, being out at Wharton and all." He paused, an eyebrow rising as he nodded. "Very nice figures there, Gords. Wonder if it had anything to do with John's piloting down and back up."

That comment earned a snort from the younger man. "Right, sure." He glanced at Scott with a sly smile. "Did you see a difference in the fuel consumption on One when he was doing all that hopping around in Abkhazia?"

Scott looked thoughtful. "Hm. I don't remember seeing anything of the sort... but then, I wasn't looking for it either." He clapped Gordon on the shoulder. "I think I'll go check the logs and see!"

Gordon shook his head and huffed out a breath as Scott sauntered off, whistling.

"What do you think?"

Zave handed the letter back to Alan and shook his head. "No way, man. No way. Don't touch it." He picked up one of his glasses of soft drink and drained it in one long gulping stream. He smacked his lips when he was done, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "He'll ask you to drop charges or something."

"Don't go, Alan," Jason added. "He's made his choice, now let him deal with the consequences."

Alan glanced at Kay, who shook his head vehemently. "I agree with them; don't see him. You're not the only one involved here, Alan. If he talks you into doing something stupid, like dropping the charges, it might affect the other guy – the one they beat up first."

"Not to mention what they did to me and Kay," Dom added. He made a sour face. "Though Sugi wasn't involved in either of those."

"We don't know if Sugi was involved in that third attack," A.J. said quietly. After hearing the fierceness in his friends' voices, he didn't want to make himself a target, but felt the point needed to be made.

"We d-don't kn-know that he isn't, e-either," Fermat pointed out. He glanced over at Alan. "Or d-do we?" Putting a hand on Alan's arm, he asked, "Was he in the r-room at the time? Would he a-ask you to be his a-a-alibi?"

Alan's face took on a deeply thoughtful look. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. Let's see; the attack before mine was on a Friday..."

"No, a Thursday," Kay corrected. "Remember? It happened the night before that big school wide meeting."

"You were still his roommate then," Dom said in an encouraging fashion.

"Okay, then. Thursday." Alan looked down and closed his eyes. "Thursday." He opened his eyes and glanced around. "Which Thursday was it?"

The others groaned, and set their minds to remembering more details. Fermat, as expected, came through. "The Thunderbirds had a r-rescue the day before – off the c-c-coast of Au-Australia."

"Right!" Jason said. "Pulling up a submersible. There was a waterspout involved."

"Y-You and I had an i-i-i... we called each o-other s-silly names."

Alan nodded. "Right. I remember that... wombat."

Fermat nearly choked on his drink, and Kay whacked his friend hard between the shoulder blades. Zave, Dom, and A.J. all gave Alan odd looks, but Jason grinned. He was a veteran of the pair's insult slinging fights.

Alan focused on the day's events, trying to arrange them in his mind in chronological order. An additional memory surfaced, and he turned it over in his thoughts to determine if it fit that evening.

Sugi... he showed up late, just after first warning; his pants were all muddy and grass-stained. Said he'd been throwing the football around with some friends. I took it at face value, then. He might have been doing what he said he'd been.. or he might have been out pounding on Erik. I have no proof one way or the other.

"S-So?"

Fermat's voice cut into his thoughts, and Alan shook his head. "Nope." He explained what had happened that evening. "I can't prove he was helping those creeps out, but I can't be his alibi, either. Not and still tell the truth."

"So, then, just stay away from him," Jason reiterated.

Dom weighed in. "But you might want to write down what you just remembered, Alan. It could be important."

"Good idea, Dom. I'll do it after dinner." Alan glanced up and around the room. "And it looks like that's nearly over."

The other boys looked up, and noticed that they were nearly the last ones in the dining hall. Hurriedly, they ate their last few bits of food, piled their flatware on their trays, and headed for the tray disposal area. Alan hurriedly shoved the note into his pants pocket.

Sable was working again. "Hey, Blondie," she said as she took Alan's tray. "Hear you're on the track team. You gonna be able to run with your face like that?"

"Yeah, eventually," Alan replied. He gazed at her for a moment, puzzled. "How come you work breakfast and dinner, but not lunch?"

"Got a life during the daylight hours, Blondie. Places to go and people to be." She held out her hands as Jason came up behind Alan. "See you on the flip side, Clyde."

As Alan walked to the group's appointed meeting spot, he heard Sable ask, "How's it hangin', Red?" and he chuckled. One by one, his friends joined him. Jason's cheeks were flaming red with embarrassment.

"Y'know, Jase," Alan said as he led the group out into the chilly night. "You need some kind of snappy comeback."

"Yeah," said Dom, nodding his head. "She probably only does this to jerk your chain."

"Easy for you to say," Jason grumbled. "She's not doing this to any of you!"

"Hey, let's see what kind of retort we can come up with for ol' Jase here," Kay said, grinning. "It's obvious he's not going to think of something witty on the spot."

As the rest of the group began batting ideas around, Alan dropped back to pace Fermat. "What do you think I should do about this letter?" he asked. "I mean, I'm not going to visit him. Everyone's right about that. Even Dad doesn't want me going near him."

"I think you sh-should tell your D-Dad about it," Fermat replied quietly. "Then maybe Mr. M-Mags. Give him the l-letter and the e-envelope. He can decide if the p-police need to s-s-s... examine it."

Alan sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just wish this whole damn thing would hurry up and be over with! I just want things back to normal!"

"It'll g-get there, Alan," Fermat said, reaching up to pat his friend on the shoulder. "It'll g-get there."