24 by LMC RATED FRT

The Tracy family is used to cries for help. As the family behind International Rescue, danger is their business. They have saved so many lives over the years. But when they become the target of a madman, will they be able to save themselves?

INTRODUCTION

As you may or may not know, there is a television show in the United States called 24. The premise of this show was that the entire season was actually one full 24-hour day, with each episode being one hour of that day. It therefore took 24 weeks for us to witness one day in the leading man's life. I have taken that concept and applied to the world of Thunderbirds. If you are unfamiliar with 24, don't worry...it's an easy concept to pick up. If you are familiar with it, I can only hope this piece of writing does it...and Thunderbirds...justice.

Acknowledgements

I must give high praise to an excellent beta I have acquired -- Rosie. She is invaluable. I must also thank my left arm, Sandy. She is so good, and is always there for me when I need her. And last but not least, my right arm, Sam, who should really get co-authoring credit for several portions of this story. Her insight, brilliance and willingness to help are a constant source of encouragement and enlightenment.

This is dedicated to those who live on Tracy Island. They are, after all, what it's all about.

I invite you into the world of 24...

"It is the year 2035. Someone has obliterated Washington, D.C. and is threatening to do the same to Southern California. My sons' lives are in danger. And International Rescue's security has been compromised.

"My name is Jeff Tracy, and this is the longest day of my life."

Hour One

The following takes place between 12:00 a.m. and 1:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

12:00:45

Jeff woke slowly, his mind still foggy from the dream he'd been having. A dream about Lucy. He glanced at the clock. Midnight. Why was he waking up at midnight? He heard a sound and suddenly knew why. The klaxon. Somewhere, International Rescue was needed.

Without hesitation, Jeff jumped out of bed and ran into the Lounge, where the eyes of his middle son John's video portrait were flashing in time with the rescue siren. He flipped the com line open. "International Rescue here. Go ahead, John." Jeff was taken aback by the look on his face as the live transmittal began. "Son?" he asked, brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"Dad," John choked out. "Turn on the television."

He stared into his son's eyes, in which he could see tears forming. Dread filling his heart, he reached over and flicked on the TV near his desk. It was already tuned to the World News Network. What he saw was unimaginable.

"...all that is left of Washington, D.C., capital of the United States of America. Less than ten minutes ago, the entire city was brought to ruins by forces as yet unknown. At this point, it isn't even clear how the destruction was caused, but there isn't a single building left standing in the sixty-one square mile radius that was once the seat of the U.S. government. We do not yet have any information as to the well being of President Grable, nor of any other members of the Executive, Judicial or Legislative branches of this government. Stay tuned to WNN as we bring you up-to-the-minute coverage of this terrible, terrible disaster."

Jeff's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. He snapped his mouth shut and turned as his eldest son Scott, second son Virgil and youngest son Alan entered the room, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Kyrano, Jeff's old friend and caretaker of Tracy Island, his daughter Tin-Tin and Jeff's mother Ruth soon followed. The last to arrive was Brains, Chief Engineer for International Rescue, who looked as though he'd been awake for quite some time. The only one not present was his second-to-youngest son Gordon, who was away on a much-needed vacation.

Everyone knew by the looks on Jeff and John's faces that something horrific had occurred.

"Father?" Scott said as he approached his dad's stately wooden desk.

Jeff sank into his chair, his face a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"What is it, Dad?" Virgil asked as he and the others gathered ‘round.

Scott's eyes roamed to the television, which carried no sound save that of a helijet engine whining. He moved behind his father as his brain, now fully alert, processed the devastation it was seeing on the screen. "My God," he whispered. "Where is this?"

Just then, the word LIVE appeared in the upper left corner of the screen. A line of words at the bottom that read WASHINGTON, D.C., U.S.A. soon joined it.

"What?" Alan asked, moving forward. "D.C.? You've gotta be kidding!"

"What's happened, Mr. Tracy?" Tin-Tin asked.

Jeff took a deep breath before tearing his eyes from the television. He looked at each of them in turn...his sons, his friends. His loved ones. "It seems," he began, and then stopped to clear the frog in his throat. "According to WNN, Washington, D.C. has been...destroyed."

12:11:52

"It makes sense for us to go. We don't know how many people might be trapped in all that rubble," Scott said to the group gathered in the Lounge. The initial shock had morphed into International Rescue's traditional response to any disaster, no matter what the scale: Let's get out there and help them!

"I agree, son. We don't have a large complement, but we do have equipment they don't. I want you out there on the double."

"Yes, Sir!" Scott saluted as he headed for the revolving wall.

Before he could even touch the two light fixtures, Jeff had continued his train of thought. "Virgil, Alan, I want you to take Thunderbird 2. Load as much heavy rescue gear into her belly as you can."

"Sure wish Gordo was here. We could really use the extra pair of hands," Alan observed as Virgil headed for the floor-to-ceiling painting of the rocket ship that had once taken his father to the Moon.

"Mr. Tracy," Brains spoke, "I-I believe I might be of some a-assistance in Gordon's absence."

"All right, then, Brains. In the meantime, Tin-Tin, I want you out to New Zealand to pick Gordon up and ferry him to the scene."

"F.A.B.," Tin-Tin replied, scurrying off to her room to change clothes.

"I'll make some coffee," Ruth offered as Brains and Alan headed for the passenger elevator just outside the Lounge.

"Thanks, Mother. John," Jeff said to his son's live feed on the wall, "I want you to keep your ear to the ground up there. Relay anything and everything you pick up. At this point, we know nothing. We have no idea what we're getting into out there."

"F.A.B., Father. I'll be in touch."

"What can I do, Sir?"

"Kyrano, what you can do is get hold of Penny. We'll need all her contacts and resources to help us on this one." He thought for a moment before continuing. "Have her and Parker go as far as L.A., then check in. By the time they arrive, we should know more. In the meantime, I'm going to start on my contact list and see what I can come up with."

"Yes, Sir," Kyrano nodded as he headed for his suite.

Jeff sat down in his desk chair, from which he'd risen while giving his orders. He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and suddenly felt much older than his sixty-five years. He pulled up a special contact file from its hidden directory within his microcomputer and sat staring at the screen for several long moments.

"How could this have happened?" he wondered aloud. "Who on earth would want to kill all those people?"

12:22:02

"International Rescue England. Lady Penelope speaking."

"Hello, Lady Penelope. My apologies for waking you. This is Kyrano."

"Kyrano, dear, how wonderful to hear from you! To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

His face expressionless as always, Kyrano relayed the news of Washington D.C.'s destruction.

"Oh, my!" she breathed, hand upon her chest. "I'm afraid I've just returned home. I haven't yet seen the telecasts. What can I do to help?"

"Mr. Tracy requests your assistance in the form of your contacts and resources, as well as your presence in Los Angeles."

"Thank you, Kyrano; I know just what to do. In the meantime, please inform Jeff that Parker and I shall catch the next Fireflash and arrive in the States as quickly as we can."

"I will do so. Thank you."

"Thank you, Kyrano. Lady Penelope out."

Penelope Creighton-Ward, International Rescue's top agent, rose to her feet. She shook her head as she reflected upon what Kyrano had told her. "I can't believe someone would do this. I must begin calling my associates at once. But first..."

She reached over to the control panel on the wall next to her bedroom door and pressed the button marked Parker. It took a few moments for her butler's face to appear on the small video screen.

"Y-Yes, m'lady?" he yawned unceremoniously.

Penny stifled a smile. "Parker, pack our bags at once. Something terrible has happened in the United States, and we're needed. We'll be taking FAB One on the Fireflash to Los Angeles, be sure to make the proper arrangements immediately."

"Yes, madam, H'I'll ge' on h'it, straight h'away. Will you require h'anythin' h'else?"

"No, Parker, that will do for the moment. I must busy myself with some phone calls. Please inform me as to the time our flight will leave."

"Will do, m'lady."

Penny walked across the room to an ornate video telephone that sat upon a lovely white antique table against the far wall. She seated herself in front of it and pulled up a secret contact list on the microcomputer to its left. Sighing, she began dialing the first number.

"Well, here we go," she said to herself. "A most unpleasant task."

12:31:12

Jeff ended his final call. No one had been able to give him anything at all on the disaster. His face looked grimmer than ever as Ruth returned with his second cup of coffee.

"You all right, son?"

"No, Mother, I'm not. Some maniac has destroyed an entire city, most likely killing tens of thousands of people. And I've sent most of my family out there when we have no idea what they'll try next."

"I know, Jeff. I'm worried about the boys, too. But they're good at what they do. They'll be careful. You know that."

"It doesn't matter how careful they are. The people of Washington, D.C. probably had no warning at all when whatever hit, hit. And just prior to 8 a.m. their time, too. The city was probably teeming with workaday folk."

Ruth patted her son's hand gently. "I know, son. I know. We'll get through this like we've gotten through everything else. Try not to worry."

"Easier said than done." Just then, John's signal came through. "Go ahead, John."

"Father, I've been monitoring the emergency U.S. Government lines."

"What've you come up with?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid. At this point, they don't seem to think anyone in the White House survived the attack, but no one can get in there to confirm."

Jeff closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. His mother's strong hand upon his shoulder strengthened his resolve, and he reopened his eyes. "You said attack. Do they know for sure what happened?"

"Not a lot of details as yet. There are some reports from survivors and those just outside the city limits saying the night sky lit up almost like day. Said it looked like thousands of little meteors falling to Earth. When they hit, things just started blowing up."

"Thousands of little meteors?" Ruth repeated.

"That's strange. John, relay that to Brains on Thunderbird 2. I want his take on it. Get him any photos or data you can."

"F.A.B.," he replied as his feed winked out.

Kyrano entered the room and crossed to Jeff's desk. "I have spoken with Lady Penelope," he reported. "She is contacting her resources as we speak. She and Parker will be leaving England as soon as possible."

"All right, thank you, Kyrano."

"How else may I be of assistance, Sir?"

Jeff sighed. "If you don't mind staying glued to the television for a bit, I'd like you and Mother to monitor two different networks, just to make sure we stay on top of any developments. John can't possibly catch everything up there all by himself. In the meantime, I'm going to take a shower." He checked the clock on the wall to the left of his desk as he rose to his feet. "I should have plenty of time before Scott calls in. If he does before I'm finished, notify me immediately."

"All right, Jeff," Ruth replied, seating herself in her son's vacated chair.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy," Kyrano nodded. He walked down the hall, past the passenger elevator and into a small adjacent room, a den of sorts. He flipped on the television and turned to NTBS, where he found their top reporter, Ned Cook, in the city of Los Angeles covering the disaster remotely. He pulled a pillow from the overstuffed couch and placed it on the floor in front of the TV. He then sat cross-legged upon it, folded his hands and began to watch the most shocking event in his lifetime unfold.

12:42:51

Ruth looked away from the television as John's signal came through. She opened the channel and her grandson's Nordic features filled his video screen. He reminded her so much of his grandfather that she couldn't help but smile. "Hello, John."

"Hi, Grandma. Where's Dad?"

"He's off to shower and dress. Is there any news?"

"Not too much. I've been on with Brains. I'm transmitting a bit of data I've picked up to Thunderbird 2 now. I also wanted to let Dad know that I activated the Emergency Network signal. I've received replies from all but ten of International Rescue's agents saying they're on their way to D.C. to see what they can do. I should be hearing from the others any time now."

"It's amazing what good people we have in this organization."

"Sure is." John's face fell as he contemplated his next statement. "I can't get in touch with Agent 14."

"Where's that one?"

"He's our man in D.C."

Ruth's eyes looked away as she realized what John was telling her. "Oh," she said softly. "Keep trying, John. I imagine communications are all but gone over that way. Maybe he just can't get through." As much as she hoped her words were true, Ruth Tracy was nothing if not a realist. She knew as well as John did that Agent 14 might not have survived. "In the meantime," she said, forcing a smile, "I'll let Jeff know the latest."

"Thanks, Grandma. I'll talk to you soon."

"Right, John," she replied before closing the channel.

12:50:02

Ruth had just finished briefing Jeff on the latest news from Thunderbird 5 when Kyrano entered the room. "Mr. Tracy? I think I may have some news for you."

"What is it, Kyrano?"

"Ned Cook has reported that a party is claiming responsibility for the attack upon Washington, D.C." "Really?" Ruth asked. "Who is it? Terrorists?"

"They are not certain, Mrs. Tracy. They say their headquarters received a voice-only video telephone transmission from a man calling himself Acronym."

"Acronym?" Jeff repeated. "What group is he with?"

"He has not claimed to be part of any group, Sir. He said that he and he alone is responsible for the destruction of Washington, D.C."

"And he didn't say why?"

"No. However, he has made a new threat."

Ruth frowned. "On what?"

"Southern California. The man said that if things did not happen as he wished, he would do to all of Southern California what he did to Washington."

"My God!" Jeff exclaimed. "What is it he wants to happen?"

"He would not say. He told them that the one he wished it from would know soon enough."

"What kind of madman is this?" Ruth pondered as she lowered herself onto the settee in front of her son's desk.

"The worst kind, Mother. Apparently he doesn't care how many people he kills for his own sick agenda. I just wish we could find out more. Hopefully Penny will have something for us soon."

The vidphone behind Jeff's desk chimed. Now seated in his chair, he turned and answered it. Voice Only was selected. "This is Jeff Tracy."

"I know who you are," a sinister voice replied.

"Who is this?"

"You may call me...Acronym."

Ruth gasped as Jeff turned to look first at her, then at Kyrano. His face paled as he spoke. "You're the one responsible for what happened to Washington."

The man chuckled. "Ah, your information network is sophisticated. And fast. But then again, one would not expect less from the man in charge of...International Rescue."

Jeff's mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, but found he hadn't a drop of spit. He'd answered the phone with his first and last name...and this man; this Acronym...had called him the head of International Rescue.

"I'm sorry, Sir, what did you say?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You heard me, Tracy. Don't play games with me. I know exactly who you are and what you do for a living. I also know that your five sons, strapping young men that they are, staff International Rescue for you."

Jeff muted the phone and turned to the others. He was at a complete loss for words.

"Is it that Hood character?" Ruth asked, coming to stand by her son's side.

"No, it doesn't sound like his voice," Jeff replied.

"I do not believe it is he," Kyrano added.

"Come now, Mr. Tracy," the voice sneered from the phone speaker. "Nothing to say? Don't you even want to know why I've called? Really, I would expect better manners."

Jeff restored the voice pickup and replied, "I'm still here."

"Very well. I imagine that if you know I am behind the destruction of the United States capital city, you are also aware of my plans for Southern California."

"Yes, I am. What is it you want?"

"Oh, something very simple, my friend. And something only you can provide."

"What would that be?"

"I want you to reveal your identities to the world."

Jeff's mind was reeling. This can't be happening, he thought over and over again. This just can't be happening. He struggled to keep himself on an even keel as he felt Kyrano's hand upon his right shoulder. "Why would you want that?"

"You're so smart, Mr. Billionaire-In-Charge-Of-International-Rescue. You figure it out."

"What if your demands are not met?"

"Then Southern California shall suffer the same fate as Washington, D.C."

Jeff rubbed his chin, his mind racing. What was he going to do? What on Earth could he do?

"Oh, and there's one more thing, Jefferson."

Jeff started at the use of his full first name.

"Just to make sure it's a little more personal, I've, uh, taken the liberty of acquainting myself with one of those perfect sons of yours."

Jumping to his feet, Jeff looked wildly at Kyrano and Ruth. "What are you talking about?" he asked in a near-whisper.

"Well, it seems that International Rescue can get along fine without one of its operatives. I believe your fourth son, Gordon, was on a camping trip in the New Zealand wilderness."

Jeff's legs buckled and he nearly fell to the floor. Kyrano and Ruth each caught a side of him and lowered him back into the chair. Tears appeared in all three pairs of eyes.

"What have you done to my son?" he choked.

Acronym laughed. "I knew that would get your attention. I've done nothing much to him as yet. He's still in one piece. But I can tell you this: if you have not revealed your true identities to the world by midnight tonight, two things are going to happen. First, the southern half of California as you know it will cease to exist."

"And second?"

"Gordon Tracy...will die."

12:59:58

12:59:59

01:00:00

 

Hour Two

The following takes place between 1:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

01:00:15

Jeff could only stare at the vidphone behind his desk as Acronym severed the connection. Words would not come. He felt Kyrano's hand upon his right shoulder, Ruth's upon his left. He felt them, yet felt nothing. Stone cold. Just like...just like when he'd been told his beloved wife Lucille had died. Thinking of her, thinking of the day she'd given birth to their son Alan...a day that should've been full of joy. A day that turned into the most hellish day of his life.

He closed his eyes as the memories flooded back to him. The helplessness. Just like now. Having to face his sons to tell them the news. Just like now. Not knowing where to go or what to do. Just like now. His world started crumbling again. The feelings he had shut off began returning in a torrent. He couldn't break down. Not again. He just couldn't. Rising to his feet, he vaguely felt his loved ones' hands slip from his shoulders.

"Jeff? Where are you going?"

Lost in thought, he didn't reply as he wandered out onto the balcony. Ruth and Kyrano could only watch in sadness and concern.

"Kyrano--"

"I will inform the boys," he interrupted.

A notification sound bleeped, and the two turned to find the eyes of Scott's video portrait lighting up in time to it. Kyrano moved behind the desk and opened up the line. "This is International Rescue," he said.

"Kyrano? Where's Dad?" Kyrano glanced toward the balcony, where he saw Jeff leaning against the railing. Scott knew him well enough to know something was up. "Tell me," he said simply.

"Scott, I am afraid I have grave news for you and your brothers. I would prefer to speak to all of you at the same time, so as not to repeat this any more than necessary."

"I'll hold on the line while you get Thunderbirds 2 and 5."

Scott fidgeted in his seat as he waited impatiently for Kyrano to reach his brothers. He heard Tin-Tin ring in on the communications console behind his father's desk.

"This is Ladybird calling Tracy Island. Come in, Tracy Island."

Ruth turned and answered the call. "We're here, Tin-Tin."

"Mrs. Tracy, something must be wrong with Ladybird."

"Why do you say that, dear?"

"Well, the GPS isn't picking anyone up where Gordon is supposed to be. I've searched a ten-mile radius, but there isn't anything except wildlife showing up on the thermal imager."

Ruth frowned as she replied, "Tin-Tin, please hold the line for a moment. Your father must tell you and the boys something. Ah, Kyrano's just gotten them all together."

"Hello, everyone," Kyrano began, seating himself in Jeff Tracy's chair. "I wished to tell all of you this at once, to avoid having to repeat myself."

"Come on, Kyrano, out with it! Does it have something to do with why Tin-Tin can't find Gordon?" Scott asked.

"What do you mean she can't find Gordon?" Alan nearly bellowed from his vid portrait.

Kyrano proceeded to relate the report by Ned Cook about Acronym's statements regarding Washington, D.C. and Southern California. He then came to the call Jeff had received from this Acronym and relayed the entire conversation.

"This man made it very clear that if your father does not reveal your identities to the world, Southern California will be destroyed and--" For the first time any of them had ever seen, Kyrano momentarily lost his cool composure. "And Gordon will be killed," he finally finished.

01:17:00

They all began talking at once. The Lounge was a mass of angry and frightened voices as the brothers and Tin-Tin contemplated their options. The men had all but decided to turn their air craft right around to begin searching for Gordon when their father, looking pale and drawn, entered the Lounge. Everyone fell silent as tension hung heavy in the air.

Ruth approached her son and placed an arm around his back. Jeff just stood in the middle of the room looking at each of the live feeds in turn. Scott. His eldest. Scott was the one who'd held the Tracy family together after Lucy's death. He'd been there when Alan was born. He'd been the rock of the family, its strength until Jeff had at last come back to himself. And now he was the one who held the family together out there, wherever International Rescue took them.

Virgil. Strong, brave and Scott's right arm. Of all his sons, Virgil seemed to have the biggest heart. He cared about everyone and everything. He took care of anyone with the tenderness of Lucille, yet never balked at putting his life in danger when the situation demanded. And he took care of Scott. After so many years of no one doing so, Virgil had taken upon himself the role of Scott's caretaker, something Jeff knew very well his eldest needed. Badly, at times. Virgil was the even keel that kept the family on its course.

Standing directly behind Virgil was Brains. Brains. Such a funny thing to call a man. And yet, there truly was nothing else to call him. Oh, sure, they could've called him by the name he'd been given back when he'd been found as a baby, but Brains had made it clear he preferred the childhood nickname over some false first and last names that held little meaning for him. His genius was unrivaled, his tenacity and courage matching those of the family he now found himself a part of. In the direst situations, Brains always seemed to be able to come up with some way to save the day. He was almost like...a sixth son.

John. John was graceful and intuitive, having fallen in love with the stars at an early age. He would spend hours peering through the telescope as a child, or talking with Jeff about space exploration and traveling to the Moon. Lucille had spent many hours with John, reading to him, encouraging his love of space and the stars, singing to him. Quick-witted and practical, he was an accomplished author and observer of the heavens. Being the middle child, John often found himself somewhat of an outcast while Virgil and Scott would go off and do one thing, and Gordon and Alan would go off and do another. But he was always the calm in whatever storm was thrown their way. Just like he would be now.

Jeff's heart sank as his eyes skimmed over the still video capture of Gordon that sat smiling lifelessly where his live son's face should have been. He came to Alan, whose mouth hung open slightly. Alan, the baby of the family. The one who could annoy each and every one of them with little or no effort whatsoever, yet also the one who was so endearing you just couldn't stay mad at him for long. Alan, who idolized his three oldest brothers and had always tagged after Gordon with such admiration and devotion, both of which continued to this day. Of all those in the family, Jeff knew Alan would be hardest hit if something happened...if something went wrong...

And then he thought of Gordon. Of how Gordon had almost died in the hydrofoil accident. Of how the doctors had told him his son wouldn't last through the night. Jeff had seated himself at Gordon's bedside and told him in no uncertain terms that he would survive. Even if he does, the doctors said, he'll never walk again. So Jeff had declared to Gordon, lying there so helplessly in the hospital bed, that yes, he would walk again.

And he had. Gordon had survived. Gordon had walked. And Gordon was now a fully functioning operative of International Rescue. Surely Fate wouldn't allow such a miracle, only to have him lose his life in some madman's senseless game.

Or would she?

Not if I have anything to do with it.

Jeff's back straightened. Eyes full of fire, he looked once more at his sons, who stared back at him from the wall. "That'll be enough of that now, boys," he said, speaking to himself as well.

"But Father, we have to find Gordon!" Alan said vehemently.

"We will, Alan. We will. But right now you have thousands of lives to save. That is what we're sworn to do. So get out there and do it! I will see to Gordon's safety."

"But Father--"

"No buts, Scott!" Jeff barked. "You do what you need to do. We'll do the same."

"How are you gonna find him if Tin-Tin can't?" Virgil asked.

Jeff's reply was interrupted by Tin-Tin's frantic voice coming over the console. "Aircraft coming at me!"

"What?!?" Jeff roared.

"Help! I'm under attack! I'm under attack!" she screamed.

Then the line went dead.

01:27:03

Gordon woke to find himself curled up on a cold metal floor. He opened his eyes, but there was no light shining wherever he was. His back ached like nothing, and he rose to his feet, stretching left and right, trying to ease the pain. "Hello?" he called out.

His voice seemed to fade before it was even out of his mouth. "Where am I?" he wondered aloud. Taking baby steps, and holding his arms outstretched, he began walking around. Before long he found a metal wall. He followed it to a rounded corner, and then felt along the next wall. He came to a second corner, and halfway along the new wall he felt a doorframe. He soon located the latch, but found it locked. He resumed his travels until at last he'd been around once more and was back to the door again.

"Hello!" he yelled as he began pounding on the door. "Hello! Can anyone hear me?"

He banged and banged, but to no avail. It seemed that wherever he was, he wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon. He clapped his hand to his left wrist, but found it bare. His communicator watch was gone. Crawling around on his hands and knees, he searched the floor hoping to locate the watch, his knapsack, or any of his other belongings.

But that search proved fruitless. There wasn't anything in this room but Gordon himself. Returning to the door, he leaned his back against it and slid down until he was resting on the floor. How had he gotten here? What had happened? He closed his eyes as he tried to recall.

He'd been having a fine time of it in the wilderness. He'd chosen the most remote spot he could find in New Zealand: Fiordland National Park. Prior to this excursion, he hadn't had a vacation in almost two years. What he'd wanted was peace, quiet and Nature. He'd found it, and had spent two days hiking through the woods admiring all that Creation had to offer, basking in the solitude and silence of his own thoughts.

At night he would build a fire and just sit watching the flames dance before his eyes. He'd set up his one-man tent, strip naked and slide into the electric sleeping bag, where he'd stay warm and cozy during the night. He'd seen almost every type of animal known to man, flora and fauna unrivaled by any modern city.

The birds had seemed to be singing just to him as he'd made his way up over hills and down through valleys. He would stop whenever he tired, or when his back would begin to hurt, and then continue at his leisure. There were no klaxons. There were no situations of peril or imminent danger. There were no lives to be saved, no brothers to watch out for. There was no one but Gordon.

By the middle of the second day, he'd finally begun to unwind and relax, starting to feel refreshed and more like his old self. His sense of humor had been dormant for some time thanks to exhaustion and near burnout. But now he'd even started cracking jokes to himself.

And then, while he'd been sleeping on the second night, he remembered being awakened by voices. Surprised to hear humans so close, he'd rushed to pull on his jeans and heavy gray sweatshirt. He'd just put on his socks and hiking boots when someone had ripped open the side of his tent with a knife. Yanking his own knife out of his bag, he'd asked, "What do you want?"

Four burly men ripped the tent open and brandished laser rifles at him. Ordering him to drop his knife, they approached him and he felt his stomach drop. One of them hit him. Hard. And then his world had gone black.

Gordon now rubbed the back of his skull and found a lovely walnut-sized knot at its base. Yes, he'd been hit but good, and knocked unconscious. No wonder his head hurt so terribly. He wondered how long he'd been in this place. And where was he? Then it dawned on him. That funny feeling he'd had since waking up.

He was underwater. He knew it as sure as he knew his own name.

But the biggest question was why. Why had he been captured and brought to this place? What on Earth could they want?

01:39:15

Tin-Tin fought the controls of Ladybird, but they were sluggish and unresponsive. That shot to the rear of the small airplane had most likely taken out her elevator control and flaps, not to mention her hydraulics. She tried to raise Tracy Island, but the radio had gone dead. She barely had time to activate her com watch's GPS beacon before the tops of tall pines began scraping the belly of the plane.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Gotta keep her level. Gotta...keep...her...level..."

She was vaguely aware of another aircraft zooming over her as Ladybird began falling apart. The trees tugged at the steel, twisting creaks and groans filling her ears. "Hold it together, woman," she said, bracing for impact. "Hold it together."

A calm, loving feeling seemed to wash over her and she smiled...she actually smiled. "Father," she whispered.

Tin-Tin lurched violently in the seat as the plane's wings collapsed and the rear fuselage ripped off behind her. Her smile disappeared and fear gripped her heart. The cockpit windows shattered, showering her with bits of glass. She covered her face with her hands and held herself as steady as possible. The blood rushing through her ears mixed with the unmistakable roar of a crashing airplane. Ladybird took one last bounce into the air before diving headfirst into the forest.

Her last conscious thoughts were of Alan.

01:42:41

Kyrano's face had gone pale as soon as his daughter announced she was under attack. His mind reached out to her and he sensed her terror. For endless minutes you could have heard a pin drop as everyone watched him, waiting to hear what he was picking up from Tin-Tin.

At last he spoke, tears streaming down his weathered face. "She is terrified," he whispered. "She is crashing."

"Tin-Tin!" Alan yelled, practically jumping through the video screen.

"Father," Scott broke in. "I have arrived at Danger Zone. Dear God. It's gone. The entire city. It's gone. What do I do, Father? Should I land?"

"No!" Alan cried. "No, we have to save Tin-Tin!"

Jeff held up a hand to silence his youngest. "Yes, Scott, you need to get set up. We can't shirk our duty when peoples' lives are at stake."

Alan pounded his fist on the console back near Thunderbird 2's sleeping quarters. "But Tin-Tin's life is at stake!"

"I am very well aware of that, son!" Jeff snapped. "But you have a job to do! I'm going after Tin-Tin and Gordon myself."

"We're coming with you," Ruth said as she placed a hand on Kyrano's arm.

Suddenly Kyrano stiffened. "She's lost consciousness," he reported.

"Is she okay?" Brains asked.

"I do not know."

"But she is alive..."

"Yes, Alan," Kyrano nodded. "She is alive. She was thinking...of you."

Alan slumped back into his seat, wiping unshed tears from his eyes. "Thank God," he whispered. Then he sat back up straight. "But she could be hurt!"

"Father, I'm sixty-two minutes out from Danger Zone," Virgil reported, his face drawn tight. He wanted nothing more than to turn his ship away from the coast and head for New Zealand, but he knew his father was right. They couldn't just let more people die in D.C., not when they were so close and could potentially save them.

"Operate standard rescue," Jeff ordered. "Kyrano and I are heading for New Zealand now. John?"

"Yes, Father?"

"Once we're airborne, I want you to maintain an open line between Tracy One, Base and Mobile Control. We're to keep in contact at all times."

"What about me, Jeff? I'm going, too!"

"No, Mother. I need you here at Base. If that Acronym calls again, you need to be here to take it."

Ruth opened her mouth to speak, but thought the better of it. Her son was right. Someone did need to stay behind, and at nearly ninety years of age, it made the most sense for her to be the one to do it. "Very well," she finally replied.

Scott's feed had shut down as he landed and prepared Mobile Control. Jeff turned back to the portrait wall. "John, I also want you in constant communication with Brains. We need to try and figure out what those things were that destroyed D.C. I want to know where they came from and how we can stop them."

"Yes, Father."

"Kyrano, let's get down to the Maintenance Bay. We're going to need to take a few things with us." "Jeff!" Ruth called from where she was sitting behind her desk.

"What?"

"I'm picking up a signal. It's Tin-Tin! It's her auto-locator!"

"Yes, I have it too, Father!" John said excitedly.

"Keep a fix on her, both of you. Let me know the second it moves."

"F.A.B.," they both replied.

"Gordon," Alan whispered as Virgil, Brains and John's feeds winked out. "Tin-Tin."

Jeff stopped in mid-stride and turned to his son's sad face. "It'll be all right. We'll find them. You know we will."

Alan nodded and rose to his feet, his heart heavy. "Yes, Father."

"Kyrano? Let's go."

Ruth watched them leave the Lounge as Alan's feed closed down, and sat back in the chair. "There must be something more I can do," she said to the empty room. Turning to the left, she raised the volume on the television, so as to be able to monitor whatever information they might come up with. She picked up a pencil and began tapping it on the desktop. "Acronym," she said, thinking aloud. "Why on Earth would he call himself Acronym?"

01:51:59

Tin-Tin moaned as her mind struggled awake. The acrid smell of burning rubber and metal pierced her senses and she began to cough. Her torso ached terribly, but as she began moving around, she didn't think anything had been broken. Pulling her sweater up to cover her nose and mouth, she unbuckled the harness that held her in the seat. The plane was slanted downward, and as she stood and turned around, she found that the entire back half of Ladybird had been sheared right off.

"Boy," she said. "Am I lucky. Now to get out of here."

"Not so fast," came a voice just behind the open end of the plane.

Tin-Tin jumped, startled. It was pitch black outside. The only light was from the glowing console behind her and a small fire just in front of her. "Who's there?" she called out.

A large man dressed in black jeans and wearing a black coat pulled himself up over the twisted metal and into the fuselage. Tin-Tin backed away until she was leaning against the console. At first, a wave of relief washed over her. At least she'd been found, and wouldn't have to spend the night alone in an unforgiving wilderness.

But then a feeling of dread overcame her. She knew instinctively that this man was not here to help her. Her suspicions were confirmed seconds later when he moved toward her, and the light from the fire revealed a weapon in his hand.

"Well, young missy, who do we have here?"

"What'cha got?" a voice called from down below.

"A woman! She's alive!" the man yelled back. Returning his attention to Tin-Tin, he asked, "What are you doing out here?"

"Why did you shoot me down?" she demanded, raising her chin defiantly.

"I asked you first," he hissed, finger tightening around the trigger on his machine pistol.

"I was looking for a friend who's gone missing," she replied quickly.

"Well, well, well," he said. Then he noticed the watch on Tin-Tin's left wrist. He recognized it. It was the same as the one they'd removed from Gordon Tracy's arm. "Hey, Greg! Looks like we were right - International Rescue's on the scene!"

"In a little red airplane?" the man apparently called Greg shouted back. He then laughed. "And a woman, to boot!"

"Yeah, what a scream," the man watching Tin-Tin replied. "All right, little lady, let's get moving."

"Where are we going?"

"Well, you came out here lookin' for Gordon Tracy, didn't you?"

Her face paled, but she didn't respond.

"How about we take you to see him?"

Tin-Tin's heart leapt. That could only mean Gordon was still alive! At least, she hoped that's what it meant. She decided to go along willingly, for she knew something they didn't: her GPS beacon was still on. If Tin-Tin was with Gordon, Mr. Tracy and the others would find them, and all would be well. She walked forward and sat down at the edge of the broken plane. There were three men on the ground, about six feet below her.

"Jump," the man behind her ordered.

She took a deep breath and did so, landing in a crouching position. When two of the men tried to help her to her feet, she shook them off, growling a little. The one from the plane jumped down beside her, grabbed her wrist and yanked the watch off.

"No!" she cried.

He smiled evilly. "You won't be needing this," he said, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Tin-Tin's heart sank as the men led her away from Ladybird. She was dimly aware of the sound of a large helijet approaching, and soon it landed quite near them. She was herded into the belief and had to resist the urge to run. She knew she had to let them take her to Gordon. She had to know he was okay. Not only that, but she knew her father would soon be trying to contact her with his mind. If nothing else, they should be able to hone in on them through that alone, no matter where she was taken.

"Greg to Boss. Greg to Boss," the man in front of her spoke into a small walkie-talkie.

"Here!" a voice replied. "What'd you find?"

"A woman. She's from International Rescue, by the looks of her watch. She was lookin' for the other one."

"Ah, splendid, just as I suspected. Is she unharmed?"

"Yep, she's all right. Chaney's workin' on movin' her plane."

"Excellent."

"Looks like you've got yourself another bargaining chip, Sir."

"Indeed I do, Gregory. Indeed I do. What's her name?"

"Don't know, Sir. She looks kind of Asian."

"Ah. This must be the young lady Tin-Tin Kyrano. Interesting that Tracy would send only her."

Tin-Tin frowned. Who was this 'Boss' and how in the world did he know who she was? And how did he know a 'Tracy' was involved with International Rescue???

A frightening laugh rang out over the walkie-talkie as he continued. "Well, Jefferson, it seems the stakes have just gone higher."

01:59:58

01:59:59

02:00:00


 

Hour Three

The following takes place between 2:00 a.m. and 3:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

02:01:21

"This is Tracy One calling Thunderbird 5. Come in, John."

"Thunderbird 5 here. Am patching you in with Mobile Control and Base now."

"Fine. Scott? You read me?"

"Strength 5, Father."

"How's it looking over there?"

"Not good, Dad. Not good at all. There are so many people that need our help...but we're only four strong."

"I know, son. I know. But John says our agents from the world over are on their way to help. You'll soon have more hands than you know what to do with. Prioritize and set Virgil and the others on those who need you the most."

"F.A.B. How about Tin-Tin and Gordon? Anything yet?"

"Father!" John broke in. "Tin-Tin's signal is moving. It's moving!"

"Yes," Ruth interjected from Tracy Island, "I'm picking that up, too."

"Where is it headed, son?"

"Due north of where she crash-landed. It must mean she's okay."

"I certainly hope that's what it means," Jeff replied grimly.

"Jeff..."

Kyrano and Jeff exchanged glances. They'd never heard Ruth Tracy hesitate so.

"Mother? What is it?"

"Oh, no."

"What, Grandma?" Scott asked.

"John, are you picking this up?"

"Picking what u--oh. Yes."

"For heaven's sake, what is it?!?" Jeff barked.

"Patching it through now, Father."

Everyone listened as Ned Cook's voice came over the airwaves.

"...received a second communication from the man calling himself Acronym, the man who claims responsibility for laying waste to the capital of the United States. In this second call, Acronym has reaffirmed his involvement in the attack, and has given the world an ultimatum: if the members of International Rescue do not reveal their true identities, more death and destruction will occur. Southern California will suffer the next attack in exactly 22 hours. 24 hours after that, New York City. He has threatened that he shall continue attacking humanity the world 'round unless his demands are met."

Jeff closed his eyes for a moment, and then reopened them. Ned's voice continued.

"And there is something else. To ensure International Rescue's full compliance, Acronym has informed this station that he is currently holding two members of the outfit hostage, a man and a woman."

"Oh, no," Scott breathed. "Tin-Tin."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, as you know, I had the great fortune to have my life saved by International Rescue. If not for them, I would not be here with you on this most tragic day. As many of you out there know, after my harrowing experience in New York City, I began putting together a network of those whose lives have been saved by International Rescue. Our group is called International Rescuees, and now numbers almost three-quarters of a million victims and their families. I think I can speak for each and every person International Rescue has saved when I say, we stand behind you. If you need our help, you know how to contact us. The world needs you. And the world will not abandon you."

"Boy, he's sure going out on a limb talking like that," Scott said.

"Yes, he is, son. He's made himself a target, the stubborn fool."

"Dad..."

"What is it, Scott?"

"Well...Ned just told the whole world that D.C. was destroyed because Acronym wants us to reveal our identities."

"Well, what is it you're worried about?" Ruth asked.

"It's not gonna take too much for the families and friends of those killed here in Washington to start blaming us for this attack. If they do, we may not be such a welcomed sight around here. I wish that Ned Cook had kept his mouth shut!"

"I think what he's done is courageous," Ruth interjected. "And I think we should take him up on his offer. Three-quarters of a million people, Jeff. Between them and our agents, this Acronym doesn't stand a chance. The public won't have enough time to be angry at us."

"But there's still Gordon and Tin-Tin," John reminded them. "What about them? If Acronym discovers we're trying to flush him out rather than give ourselves up, he'll kill them for sure."

"Mr. Tracy," Kyrano said, trying to recover from having just found out his daughter was being held hostage. "What shall we do?"

Jeff's mind was racing as the jet sped toward New Zealand. What could he do? John was right. If Acronym could kill so many people at once in D.C., he would certainly have no qualms killing two more. And yet, his mother was right as well. So many people offering to help, people who wanted to give something back to those who had helped them. How could he refuse such generosity? For the first time since they had begun operating, International Rescue needed help themselves.

It was an agonizing decision Jeff had to make, but when he did, his heart was at one with his mind. As Tracy One began veering away from New Zealand, he said, "John, get hold of Ned Cook. Arrange for a meeting near Los Angeles, somewhere with some privacy. We're going to get some help on this."

"F.A.B."

"Virgil, Brains and Alan are arriving in 20 minutes. I'll brief them."

Jeff heard other voices coming through from Mobile Control. "Scott? Who's there?"

He could hear the smile in Scott's voice as he replied, "Everyone, Father. Our agents. I'd say three hundred people just swarmed in."

Jeff smiled in return. "All right, then. I guess I don't need to worry about you winding up on the wrong end of a rotten egg. You should have what you need on your end. Leave Gordon and Tin-Tin to us."

"Okay, Father. Good luck."

"You, too, son. You, too."

02:16:06

Having dozed off, Gordon started as he began to feel like he was falling. He tumbled backward as the door to the room he was in was thrown open. Gruff hands picked him up and threw him back inside before he was even fully awake. He heard a familiar voice cry out his name.

"Tin-Tin?" he said, scrambling to his feet. In the confusion and the sudden, blinding light, he could see almost nothing beyond the door. Before he could quite figure out what was going on, he felt someone slam into him. They sprawled onto the floor as his hands reached up and grabbed two arms. They heard the door clang shut, and the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking behind it.

"Tin-Tin? Is that you?"

"Oh, Gordon!" she cried, hugging him fiercely. "You're all right! You're alive!"

"What are you doing here? Where are we? What's going on?"

Extricating herself from his arms, Tin-Tin crawled off him and sat cross-legged on the floor. But she would not move her hand from his leg as he sat up next to her. It was so dark in the room. And now, having found him, she was terrified of losing him.

"I don't know where we are exactly, Gordon. We're underwater somewhere. These men, there were four of them, they made me get on a helijet and then we boarded a submarine."

Gordon breathed deeply before replying, "I knew it. I could feel the water pressure. I knew I was underwater. I could feel us surfacing and diving." There was a moment's silence before he repeated his original question. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find you."

He smiled wryly into the blackness. "Well, I guess you succeeded."

02:23:17

"Acronym," Ruth muttered, scribbling letters on a piece of paper. "Acronym. Acronym." She scratched out whatever she'd written and rewrote the letters again. "A-C-R-O-N-Y-M," she spelled out. "C-R-Y-M-A...no, that's not right." She crossed it out and began again, staring intently at the word in front of her. She played these games sometimes with Brains, seeing how many words they could make up out of his long, scientific terminology. It served to help her neurons keep firing right, she would tell him. "And why would a fellow call himself Acronym unless he meant something by it?" she asked aloud.

"You still at that, Mother?" Jeff's voice came from the console behind her.

"Yes, I am. I'm convinced there's a clue to this man's identity here somewhere."

"Well, keep at it, then. If anyone can figure it out, it's you."

"Father, you should see some of these talk programs that are going on."

"What about 'em, John?"

"Scott was right. It looks like some of these people are blaming us for what happened."

"How can they?" Ruth asked. "We had nothing to do with it!"

"A lot of lives were lost, Mother. Everyone's angry, and they need someone to blame. I just hope we can put a stop to it before anything else happens."

"Father, I've also been on direct link with Brains in Thunderbird 2."

"What've you come up with, John?"

"I'm patching Brains through now."

"Mr. Tracy?"

"Yes, Brains, I'm here."

"Well, uh, given what information John's been a-able to, uh, gather on the objects that hit here, a-and from the, uh, destructive pattern I've seen, I-I think I know what they're using."

"And that is...?"

"The o-only thing that makes sense, is a-a new formula they've been, uh, toying with over at Canton Aeronautics."

"Canton? As in Canton Corporation? In Kansas City?" Jeff asked.

"Y-Yes, exactly. A-About three weeks ago, I received a, uh, communiqué from a fellow scientist who'd recently left the, uh, company. He told me about a formula they'd developed called, uh, uranium trihydrazine, o-or UH-3 for short. He left Canton due to, uh, misalignment with their o-objectives."

"What exactly were their objectives, Brains?"

"They wanted to use the, uh, UH-3 in weapons of mass destruction, Mr., uh, Tracy. Dr. Godfrey refused to be a-a part of such goings-on and resigned."

"Are you certain the ones that hit Washington are made of UH-3?"

"Well, I-I'd know more if I could, uh, take some samples from the area. I-It's not harmful after detonation, but it breaks down to, uh, a very distinctive compound a-afterwards. I-If I find that compound here, I'll know I'm right."

"Okay, then. Scott, find an agent or two with a scientific background. Then get them together with Brains so he can confirm his theory."

"F.A.B."

"Brains, do everything you can, as quickly as possible. And see if you can't get your Dr. Godfrey's help. If he worked on this thing, he'll know more about it than anyone."

"Yes, Sir!"

"John, get on with our office in Arlington. They should know of a laboratory Brains can use."

"Right away, Father."

"Kyrano and I will be arriving in Los Angeles in approximately twenty-seven minutes. After we meet with Ned Cook, I'll let you know what goes on."

"I've got it!" Ruth cried.

Jeff nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. "Good Lord, Mother! What've you got?"

"I've got it, Jeff! I know what Acronym stands for! My Acorn!"

"My Acorn?" Kyrano asked, frowning. "What does that mean?" He looked down at the steering yoke and noticed his friend's hands were gripping it a little too hard. He then looked up at his face. It had gone white. "Mr. Tracy?"

"It can't be," Jeff whispered. "Mother, it can't be."

"It makes sense, Jeff! It makes perfect sense!"

Jeff's mind flashed back to high school. It was his senior year, and he'd been looking forward to joining the Air Force, to escaping life as a farmer and heading off for more exciting adventures. During the summer, a family had moved into a newly built house about eight miles from the Tracy farm. The Cantons were well to do. Michael Canton had just severed a long tenure with NASA as the head of their Research and Development division. He'd moved his family to Middle-of-Nowhere, Kansas so Mr. Canton could begin his own aerospace company fairly cheaply.

Jeff recalled that Michael's wife Jenny had been a beautiful woman, but very flighty and somewhat dingy, to his way of thinking. They had one child, Michael Canton II. An eighteen-year old himself, he'd transferred into Thomas Jefferson High School. As the only new person in a class full of kids who'd known each other practically their whole lives he was, almost by necessity, an outsider, and made very few friends. Of course, the fact that he acted like a rich, spoiled brat did nothing to endear him to the grass roots students of Jefferson High.

Warm, open and friendly, Jeff had attempted several conversations with Michael, but found him aristocratic and full of himself. He'd continued, however, to try and include the young man in various parties and gatherings throughout their senior year. Michael usually managed to make himself disliked almost from the moment he arrived, so eventually Jeff stopped inviting him.

When Michael realized he was being shut out, he began showing up at the Tracy Farm at all hours of the day and night. At first, Ruth had felt sorry for him, and tried to be nice to him, inviting him over for dinner and encouraging Jeff to take him fishing. Michael, however, did nothing but use Jeff's parents, and after several unfriendly altercations, Jeff and his mother had a discussion about the young man, during which Jeff had called Michael an "A-hole". Ruth's stern reply had been, "A-corn, dear. Acorn." Young Jeff had laughed and from that day on he'd referred to Michael Canton II as My Acorn.

It also didn't help matters that as soon as Michael the 2nd had met Lucille, he'd wanted her. Michael's father was the mighty conqueror type...if he wanted something he just took it. His son worked the same angle with Lucy, but she wanted no part of him. So no matter how hard he tried, both with girls and with anything else in his life, he couldn't live up to his father's expectations.

About halfway through their senior year, now no longer on speaking terms thanks to a knockdown drag-out fight about Lucille, an incident occurred which burned whatever shell of a bridge had remained between Michael and Jeff. Due to his bad luck with girls, a rumor had begun circulating around Jefferson High that Michael was gay. When he was eventually confronted about it by a group of guys from the football team, he was so embarrassed that he'd missed an entire week of school.

The worst part was he'd been certain Jeff was behind it, when in actuality nothing could've been further from the truth. For the last two months of school, as the rest of the class ostracized him, Michael did everything he could think of to get Jeff expelled. He was determined to ruin Jeff's chances with the Air Force. He even went so far as to engineer a prank that sent Jefferson High's principal to the hospital with a broken leg. He'd planted evidence pointing to Jeff Tracy as the prime suspect, but eventually Jeff and his friends had found proof to the contrary, and two weeks before graduation, Michael Canton II found himself expelled from high school with no chance at getting his diploma.

Jeff knew Michael had never forgiven him for that, but he also knew that he hadn't needed his diploma. After his expulsion, he worked for his father for six years until the elder Canton died of a heart attack. My Acorn then took over Canton Corporation, which had grown considerably, and he'd been at its helm ever since.

Years later luck, or lack thereof, found Jeff Tracy forming an aeronautics company to try and get a fresh start for his family a year after the death of his wife. The more successful the company became, and the more wealth Jeff acquired, the more Michael Canton II hated him. Jeff vividly remembered the one run-in he'd had with him at the very lecture in Paris where he'd asked Brains to become Chief Engineer for International Rescue.

Frustrated and angry with himself for being unable to live up to his father's reputation, and with the additional slap in the face that Jeff himself wound up marrying Lucille, Michael's anger and ire had focused on the man he felt thwarted him. That primordial soup of misplaced hatred cooked and boiled within Michael, who vowed that one day he would take his revenge on Jefferson Tracy. That, he told himself, would just show his dead but still overbearing father how ruthless he could be.

Michael was less-than-kind after the lecture and accused Jeff of going into the same business as he just to bring him down. In addition, the rumors of his homosexuality, which he still blamed Jeff for, had caused more than their fair share of trouble for him throughout his life. Jeff insisted he'd had nothing to do with any of it, but Michael had gone on and on about how Jeff wanted what he had, wanted to destroy his life, wanted to take everything away from him.

When he'd finally had enough, Jeff just stood up and said, "Listen, Canton, I don't know what your problem is. I don't know why you've continued to hate me all these years. But I do know that the business I'm in has nothing to do with you or your family, or your companies! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a man about a machine!"

He'd left Michael Canton II sputtering behind him and found Brains, spiriting him away in his limousine before Canton had a chance of catching up. He'd never heard another word from him. Until now.

Coming back to the present, he cleared his throat and checked the chronometer on Tracy One's control panel. "Eight minutes out from Los Angeles," he announced softly.

"Jeff? You okay?"

"Yeah, Mother. I'm okay. You know, it's funny; I thought I recognized that voice on the vidphone. I just couldn't place who it was."

"It's Michael Canton. Isn't it, Jeff." It was not a question.

"Yes, Mother. I'm almost certain of it. And if what Brains says about the UH-3 bombs is true, that just confirms it even more."

"I can't believe he'd go this far. All because of what happened all those years ago? And Lucille?"

"He never could stomach the fact that she married me."

"Jeff, this isn't an acronym, it's an anagram! That kid never was very bright in school."

Jeff chuckled in spite of himself. "Yeah, but he's obviously bright enough to figure us out."

"How on Earth did he find out about International Rescue?" Ruth asked.

"I can't imagine. He must have been tracking me since that day in Paris. One way or another, he's found out. And now my son and Kyrano's daughter are his prisoners."

"Mr. Tracy?" Kyrano piped up. "Who is Michael Canton?"

"A very sick man. And someone who's going to pay for what he's done if it's the last thing I ever do," Jeff replied.

02:42:06

Ruth looked up from where she'd been staring at the words My Acorn written on the scrap of paper in front of her. Her eyelids began drooping as she watched continuing coverage of the disaster in Washington, D.C. She was so tired. So awfully tired. An incoming signal jolted her awake and she scanned the vid portraits on the wall. At last her eyes came to rest on the beautiful picture of Lady Penelope. The string of pearls was lighting up, so Ruth opened a line.

"International Rescue here."

"Mrs. Tracy?" Penelope asked, one eyebrow raised as her face appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Penny. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Tracy, just fine. Where are Jeff and the others?"

Ruth sighed. "It's a long story."

"Well, Parker and I are about fifteen minutes away from Los Angeles. You can tell me all about it when we've arrived and settled in. I will contact you shortly. Lady Penelope out."

Ruth wished Penny and Parker were coming to the island instead of staying in L.A. Besides being friends, they would've been much-needed company, for she was getting lonely sitting there at Jeff's desk. Never in her life had she been so devoid of companionship as she had been this last hour. Silence hung like an ominous presence over the whole island, nearly screaming its truth about the dark circumstances now upon this normally tranquil and happy place.

"Jeff, I assume you overheard that?"

"Yes, Mother. I'm glad Penny will be in place shortly. Kyrano and I will probably be meeting with Ned Cook by the time she gets settled. I want you two to keep in touch with John. I'll expect a report on Penny's findings, if she's got any, once we're through with Ned."

"All right, Jeff. Good luck with Mr. Cook."

"Thanks, Mother. I'll be in touch."

02:48:12

With Virgil and Alan's assistance, and the help of some ten other International Rescue agents, Scott made sure the gaggle of people who'd come to take part in the biggest rescue of their lives were deployed over the entire area that had once been Washington, D.C. He remained on high alert, for every ten seconds, it seemed, some agent or other was calling in needing assistance, and Scott would have to check his notes and the agents' locators in order to send the most people there in the fastest manner possible.

The tricky thing was trying to get the heavy rescue equipment where it was needed. Burning rubble covering most of the city made for tough going with some of it, and since only Virgil and Alan were available for piloting duties, that meant only two machines could be deployed at any given time. They'd toyed with the idea of teaching some of the more mechanically inclined agents how to run minor pieces of equipment, but in the end decided the risk to those unfamiliar with their technology would be greater than the benefit they might provide.

So Scott also had the daunting task of trying to deploy Alan and Virgil in Firefly and The Mole in order of necessity. Given that 75% of the calls for both vehicles were dire in nature, that left Scott feeling like he was playing God, deciding who would get help first and, by default, who might die because of his decisions while others lived. It was a role he was loathe to take on, but one he knew was very necessary. Firefighters, police and rescue personnel from across the United States had begun to arrive. At least their equipment, though not as sophisticated as International Rescue's, would ease the burden on Virgil and Alan, and for that Scott was grateful.

Brains had not checked in as yet from the laboratory in Arlington he and three other agents had gone to with samples of debris from throughout the area. But Scott knew better than to bother him. He wanted Brains to work fast to determine if UH-3 was indeed the culprit in this attack. If so, it would give them a starting place as to who was behind all this. Having been away from Mobile Control, and therefore away from the open connection to Tracy One, Base and Thunderbird 5, Scott wasn't yet aware that his grandmother and father had already determined the source of their woes. Or at least, thought they had.

Scott finished up a call with Agent 120, who had discovered three survivors in the basement of a collapsed building on the other side of the city. There was no way for 120 or her companions to reach them, so Scott felt The Mole was needed.

"This is Mobile Control calling The Mole. Come in, Virgil."

"Mole here."

"How are you doing at your location?"

"Just on our way back up to the surface. There were five people down there. One of them was a baby. She...she didn't survive, Scott."

He heard the pain in his brother's voice and it echoed the pain he felt in his own chest. In a disaster of this magnitude, it was inevitable that they'd run into dead bodies, but it was always hardest to deal with when those dead bodies belonged to children. "How about the other four?"

Virgil took a deep breath before replying, "They're all right, the baby's mother has some broken bones, but she'll be okay. Physically, at least."

"All right, Virgil. Good work. As soon as you offload those people, I need you at reference 34-10. Agent 120 has found three people trapped in the basement of a burning building. It doesn't look like there's much time to get them out, so hurry."

"F.A.B., Scott. I'll radio as soon as I'm on the scene. Mole out."

"Mobile Control to Firefly. What's your status, Alan?"

"Clearing some debris so fire engines can get through. I should have it out of the way in about five minutes. How's Virgil doing?"

"He just rescued four people and I'm sending him over to another location."

"Where do you want me after I'm through here?"

Scott looked at his list. Medic Burkhart of Arlington Fire Company #1 had requested assistance in reaching the White House, which was surrounded on all sides by a high wall of flames they couldn't hope to get through. "All right, Alan, I'll need you to head directly to the White House. The engines are having no luck getting through a ring of fire surrounding it. You'll need to get the emergency personnel through and make sure they can get out again, just in case some of those folks are still alive."

"F.A.B., Scott. I have one more pile to get through here. Am going to fire a nitro pellet."

"All right, Alan. Be careful."

"Sure thing, Scott. Here goes."

But the explosion that Scott heard next didn't come from a small nitro pellet. He rose to his feet, gazing at a point about a mile away where a ball of fire rose into the sky. The color drained from his face as his jaw dropped. He reached down and pressed a button on the panel, never taking his eyes from the dissipating fireball.

"Firefly, this is Mobile Control. Come in." His hand began to tremble as he jabbed at the button again. "Alan, this is Scott. Can you hear me? Come in, please!"

The cold hand of fear gripped Scott's heart, nearly freezing it to a complete stop in his chest. He closed his eyes; doing everything he could to maintain his composure. When he reopened them, they glistened in the light of the sun. "Firefly, check in immediately!" Nothing. "Alan! Come in! Now!"

"Scott?" came a voice over the airwaves. "Scott, what is it? What's happened?"

"I don't know, John. I can't raise Alan."

"Hang on, I'll see if I can get a fix on him."

Scott's fingers drummed nervously on the panel. Alan had to be fine. He just had to.

"Scott..."

The sound of John's voice caused Fear's icy grip to tighten, nearly cutting off Scott's ability to breathe. "What is it, John?"

"I--I can't find Firefly's signal, Scott. She's just...disappeared."

"No," Scott whispered. "And Alan...what about Alan's GPS?"

There was a moment of silence before John replied, his voice barely audible. "No, Scott. I don't have him."

"No," came Scott's strained voice again. "No. Not Alan. Oh, god, no. Alan!" Scott abandoned Mobile Control without a moment's hesitation. He barely heard John's voice calling out to him as he sprinted towards where he'd seen the fireball. Not his baby brother, not the one he'd brought into the world, it couldn't be. Alan was fine, Alan was fine, he'd be okay...but John couldn't pick up Firefly. Or their brother. Tears stung Scott's eyes as his legs carried him faster than they'd ever carried him before. He had to know. No matter what had happened, he had to know. Now.

02:58:14

The first thing he felt like doing when he skidded to a halt near a hook-and-ladder unit on the scene was vomiting. For not twenty feet in front of him, Firefly was upside-down. It was bent in the middle, as though its metal hull had been heated until malleable, then twisted by giant hands before cooling. Its caterpillar treads were gone, leaving their black wheel tracks spinning uselessly. The front dozer was missing; Scott didn't even have it in his line of vision.

Seeing his uniform, two firemen rushed up to his side. "Is this one of yours?" one of them asked.

Scott nodded. "Yes. There was an explosion, and now we can't raise him."

"You'd better come with us."

Scott allowed the men to lead him around to the left of Firefly. Noxious fumes permeated the air, making him gag. One of the firemen put an oxygen mask on him as they walked, and when they rounded her front, Scott stopped dead in his tracks. The entire left side of the vehicle had been torn away, leaving the inside of the cockpit fully exposed. He looked down to where a group of paramedics and firefighters were gathered in a circle. He could hear the familiar sounds of CPR being performed and what was left of his heart forced its way into his throat.

He ran the last few feet to the circle and pushed his way through. "Oh, my God," he breathed, dropping to his knees beside a burned and motionless body. "Alan. Alan!"

02:59:58

02:59:59

03:00:00

 

Hour Four

The following takes place between 3:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

03:00:19

To Jeff Tracy, Ned Cook seemed different than he had during his television broadcast. Thinking he knew what the problem was, Jeff said, "Ned, I can't thank you enough for your discretion. In your business, this has gotta be a tough can of worms to keep closed."

Ned smiled as he shook first Jeff's hand, then Kyrano's. The three had met inside a room at a small flea-trap in one of the less desirable areas of Los Angeles, California. It had been determined that neither Jeff Tracy, nor the head of International Rescue, would ever be suspected of hanging ‘round a dump like this. That made it safe. For now.

"Well, Mr. Tracy, I recognized you as soon as you walked through the door. And since I knew I was meeting with someone from International Rescue, it wasn't too hard to put the pieces together. But you can count on my silence. I don't want to see you exposed any more than you do. Even though it would do wonders for my career..."

Jeff smiled knowingly. "Ned, if you can help us pull this off, you'll have the biggest story you've ever seen. An exclusive."

His face brightened. "You got that right!" Then his face darkened. "But I'm afraid I've made a grave error."

"How so?"

"I should never have broadcast that information about International Rescue, or about the two hostages."

"You were just doing your job."

"That may be true, but I failed to stop and take into account the consequences of my actions. Just like at the oil fire when Thunderbird 1 had to chase me down and erase the footage I had Joe take. I just wanted to get my story, and to hell with how it affected anyone else."

"I don't think I see the connection."

"Mr. Tracy, because I let it out about Acronym destroying D.C. as a precursor for wanting you to reveal yourselves, because I reported on the hostages...well, it's affected public opinion of you."

Now Jeff understood. "What's done is done, Ned. One way or another that information probably would've leaked out anyway. But given that you did report it, are you sure the members of International Rescuees want to help?"

"Oh, yes!" Ned nodded emphatically as he seated himself on the bed. "I've spoken to our board, and they've put the call out. Nearly half our membership is on their way here as we speak. The board is working on getting in touch with the rest of the families."

"Well, we've got an idea who this Acronym might be. We also think we know what those bombs were made of that destroyed D.C. I've got our scientists working on that angle right now."

"Mr. Tracy..."

They turned to look at Kyrano, whose eyes were closed.

"What is it?"

"Mr. Tracy, it's Tin-Tin. I'm finally picking her up again."

"Is she all right?"

"Who's Tin-Tin?"

"She's the female operative you referred to in your report."

"The one Acronym's holding?"

Jeff nodded, and then turned back to his friend. "Kyrano, is Tin-Tin all right?"

"Yes..." he said slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he gave a start. "Sir! It's Gordon! She's with Gordon!"

"Are they okay?" he asked, gut churning.

"Yes, they are okay. They are somewhere very dark. She cannot see Gordon even though he is right next to her."

Jeff let out the breath he'd been holding. "Well, at least we know they're alive. Kyrano, do you think you could find them through this connection with your daughter?"

The Asiatic man nodded, then exclaimed, "Sir! They're underwater!"

"Underwater?!?"

"Yes, they are in a submarine."

"Where?"

"I do not know. She is not certain of their exact location."

Ned listened, taking everything in, storing it away in his mind. So, the woman named Tin-Tin was this man Kyrano's daughter, and somehow he was able to contact her telepathically. And the other operative being held hostage was named Gordon. Wait...Gordon?

"Did you say Gordon!?!" Ned asked, jumping to his feet.

"Why, yes. Gordon's the other hostage."

"Isn't...isn't he the one...who saved me and Joe? In Thunderbird 4?"

Jeff smiled softly and nodded. "Yes, that was Gordon."

"He talked us in. We were outta air, we were nearly dead, but he talked us in. He wouldn't let us give up. He risked everything down there in that underground river." Ned walked up to Jeff and laid a hand on his arm. When he spoke, his voice had lost its normal joviality. "I won't let Acronym kill him. Not the man who saved my life. Tell me what you want me to do."

03:13:16

"John! What's going on?!?"

"I don't know, Grandma, I think something's happened to Alan!"

"We'd better get Jeff on the line."

"On it. John Tracy to Jeff Tracy. Emergency! Please respond!"

"Oh, dear!" Penny exclaimed from her hotel room as Parker brought in a tray of biscuits and tea. As soon as they'd gotten settled, John had patched her into the continuous communication going on between Tracy One, Mobile Control and the island base. "What could have happened?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good. Especially if Scott's left Mobile Control."

"H'anythin' h'else I can do, m'lady?"

"Hold tight, Parker. I daresay Jeff will need us somewhere rather quickly."

"Yes, m'lady," Parker replied.

Penny was concerned for Ruth. As she watched from her vid portrait on the wall, she noticed the elderly woman looked quite tired. "Are you all right, Mrs. Tracy?"

"My dear, I think it's high time you called me Ruth. You know I don't stand on decorum. And yes, I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

Penny laughed lightly. "All right, then, Ruth. Are you certain you're well?"

"Don't you worry about me, Penelope. Jeff didn't get all his stubbornness from his father, you know."

03:15:03

"They shot you down?"

Tin-Tin nodded, even though she knew Gordon couldn't see her. "Yes, it was a small jet. I was so busy listening to what was going on back at Base, I didn't even see it until it was on me."

"Are you hurt?"

"Bumps and bruises, but I think I'll be fine."

"Tin-Tin, do you know what's going on? Who's holding us?"

She told Gordon the story of Washington, D.C. and Acronym, as well as the ultimatum his father had received regarding International Rescue. "Gordon, if...if your father doesn't reveal our identities, Acronym said...well, he said he was going to kill you."

Gordon's hand found Tin-Tin's, which still rested upon his leg, and he squeezed it. "Don't worry. We'll be okay."

"I wish I had your confidence. Oh, Alan and the others must be frantic by now!"

"If I know Alan, he's probably hijacked a plane and is on his way to rescue you as we speak."

"Not if your father has anything to do with it. International Rescue's needed in Washington...or what's left of it."

Gordon suddenly became silent. It was a few moments before he found his voice. "I can't believe they destroyed the entire city. I just can't believe it. All those people...and all because of us. What Father must be thinking..."

"I know. For all the lives we've saved over the years, that many may have just been wiped out in a single, vicious act. What do you think your father will do?"

"Move Heaven and Earth, Tin-Tin. Move Heaven and Earth."

03:29:44

Jeff heard the emergency signal coming through his watch. He raised his wrist to his face and found John's agitated countenance staring back at him. "John? What is it?"

"Are we in the clear?"

Jeff looked up to where Ned was speaking with Kyrano across the room. He turned to face the wall and whispered, "Yes, we are. What's happened?"

"Father, it's Alan."

The elder Tracy froze. "Alan?"

"Yes, Grandma and I don't know what's going on. We heard Alan tell Scott he was going to fire a nitro pellet into a pile of rubble. Then there was an explosion. Both Firefly and Alan's signals have disappeared."

Jeff closed his eyes. First Gordon, then Tin-Tin. And now Alan. "What's Scott say?"

"I can't raise him, Father. He left Mobile Control right after I told him I couldn't pick up Alan's GPS. I've been trying his watch, but I can't get him to answer."

Jeff sighed. "Has Penny arrived in Los Angeles yet?"

"Yes, Father, only just. She and Parker are in their motel room now, they've been trying to help us raise Scott."

"Well, we've just about wrapped it up with Ned. I think we've got a good plan of action here. Patch me through to Penny."

"F.A.B."

"Jeff, this is Penelope."

"Hi, Penny. Wish we were speaking under better circumstances."

"As do I."

"Have you been able to find Scott?"

"No, I'm afraid he's not answering. Parker's on the line with Virgil now, using Firefly's last known coordinates in an attempt to get him over to where the explosion occurred."

"Dammit!" Jeff swore, slamming the back of his fist against the wall. Ned and Kyrano turned to look at him, shocked by his outburst.

"What is it, Sir?" Kyrano asked, approaching him.

"It's Alan. Something may have happened to him, but nobody's been able to get hold of Scott to find out. This is just getting worse and worse by the minute!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy," Ned said as he came to stand next to Kyrano.

Leaning against the wall with his arm, Jeff's head hung low for a moment as he tried to think, tried to come up with solutions for a game that was changing faster than the rule book could keep up. "Maybe I should just reveal our identities," he said quietly. "If I did that, Acronym would let Gordon and Tin-Tin go. And no one else would have to get hurt."

Kyrano and the reporter exchanged worried looks. It was finally Ned who gave voice to their thoughts. "Mr. Tracy, I know I'm not a part of International Rescue, and I probably have no right voicing my opinion on the matter, but if I were you, I wouldn't give in. We still have time."

"Time for what?" Jeff asked, standing up straight and looking right into Ned's eyes. "Time for the public to end up hating us? Time for the rest of my family to die while I sit here trying to choose between their lives and International Rescue?"

Ah, Ned thought. So that's it. They're family. They're all family. Gordon must be one of his sons. No wonder he's so broken up about this. Aloud he replied, "How do you know Acronym will really let them go like he says? How can you trust a guy who wipes out a whole city with no warning whatsoever?"

Jeff looked from Ned to Kyrano, whose silent gaze told him he was in agreement with the reporter. He rubbed a weary hand down his face and nodded slowly. "You're right. You're both right. Okay, Ned, let's proceed as discussed. Keep in touch on that frequency I gave you."

"I will, Mr. Tracy. And good luck."

"You, too. And Ned? Thanks."

Ned smiled and nodded as Kyrano opened the door. Jeff lifted his wrist to his face. "I suppose you heard all that, Penny."

"Yes, I did. And let me tell you something, Jefferson Tracy, if I ever hear you speak in that manner again, I shall make your life utterly miserable!"

He chuckled. "The only way you could do that is by not being there for me, Pen." He thought for a moment before continuing. "I should really get over to D.C. and see about Alan."

"No, Jeff!" came Penny's alarmed reply. "You can't!"

"Whaddya mean I can't?" Jeff retorted as he and Kyrano entered their car.

"Listen to me. Scott and Virgil are there and Brains is nearby. You have nearly three hundred International Rescue agents, each one of them personally approved by you, who are also there to assist."

"But I'm his father!"

"Yes, you are. And you're also Jeff Tracy. You know very well you could easily be recognized. Showing such great concern for a member of International Rescue could very well be your undoing as well as the organization's."

Jeff silently contemplated Penny's words.

"That's not all, Jeff. It could also be the end of Gordon and Tin-Tin's lives."

Kyrano looked at his friend with fear upon his face. Jeff closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was steer his jet to the opposite coast where his sons needed him. But Penny's points were all valid. Taking a deep breath, he nodded at her, and she visibly relaxed.

"Well, if I can't personally be there for Alan, I will personally help Gordon and Tin-Tin."

"What have you in mind, Jeff?"

"Penny? Kyrano? Here's what we're going to do..."

03:40:26

"Alan! Oh, god, Alan!" Scott cried as he got a good look at his baby brother.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but please, you must stay back so we can try to save his life."

"Is he breathing?!?" Scott asked as one of the firemen escorted him out of the circle. He strained to continue watching. "Is he alive???"

No one answered. As the paramedics pumped Alan's chest and breathed into his mouth, Scott couldn't keep one tear from escaping an eye and rolling down his cheek. He couldn't even move to wipe it away as it landed on the mask over his nose and mouth. Suddenly, a familiar sound cut through the din. It took him a bit to realize it was his com watch. Scott's heart left his throat and sank right down to the bottom of his shoes. His family. How was he going to tell his family?

Scott's voice was flat and lifeless as he spoke. "Scott here."

"Scott! There you are!" Virgil's worried face appeared in the watch dial. "Everybody's been frantic trying to raise you! John said something happened to Alan! Is he okay?"

"I-I don't know, Virg. Get here. Please."

The unspoken but clearly implied meaning was I need you. Virgil read it loud and clear and replied, "Two minutes. I'm there in two minutes."

Scott stripped the oxygen mask off and handed it to one of the two firemen who flanked him. He could do nothing but stand there helplessly as the medics tried valiantly to save his little brother's life. From what Scott had seen, most of his hair looked singed, his body burnt. There was barely a scrap of uniform left. His face seemed to be in good condition, but one look at Firefly told Scott that whatever had happened didn't bode well for his baby brother.

"Do we know what caused the explosion?" he finally asked.

"Well, Mr., uh, Mr...."

"Scott. Name's Scott," he said, reaching out and shaking both firemen's hands.

"Right. I'm Aaron and that's Al."

Scott blanched at the man's name. Al is what he'd always called Alan, ever since he was a kid. He recovered enough to nod and reply, "Pleased to meet some of this country's bravest heroes."

"Same here, Scott. You fellas are our heroes, no matter what anyone says. Best we can figure, one of those little bombs that destroyed the city to begin with didn't detonate. Whatever your friend was doing, he must've hit it somehow and set it off."

Scott closed his eyes and shook his head. "The nitro pellet. He was firing a nitro pellet to blast through the last of the debris," he breathed.

"Oh, that'd sure do it," the fireman named Al commented.

Just then, the sound of loud machinery deafened them. Scott turned to see the Mole pull up behind the hook-and-ladder. As Virgil emerged from the metal beast, a sharp cry of joy pierced the air.

"I've got a pulse!"

Scott raced back to the circle surrounding his fallen brother. He knelt next to Alan's head and stroked his blackened hair as his chest rose and fell softly. A shiver ran through him as his hand came away covered with strands of hair.

"Oh, Al," he said softly. "You're gonna be okay now. You're gonna be okay."

"Scott!" Virgil cried, running up and kneeling next to him. He looked down at Alan, whose face had just been covered with an oxygen mask. A huge burst of air escaped his mouth as his chest heaved, only a strangled cry escaping his throat.

Scott felt stronger already, both because Alan was alive and because his closest sibling was now there. He placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder and rose to his feet, bringing his brother up with him. Neither had taken their eyes from Alan's prone form as the medics stabilized him and placed him on a hover stretcher.

"Is he...is he..." Virgil choked out.

"He's breathing. They just got him breathing," Scott replied, fighting the urge to lose control of his emotions.

Virgil nodded slowly as the paramedics rushed Alan to the ambulance. "One of us oughtta go. He shouldn't be alone right now."

Scott was torn. The big brother in him wanted desperately to hop into that ambulance with Alan. But the International Rescue part of him knew he was badly needed there at the Danger Zone. Just then, Brains and three others rushed up behind them.

"Scott! Virgil! I-I heard the news from Base that something's happened to A-Alan! Nobody knows what's going on!"

"Dammit, I have to get in touch with ‘em," Scott said. He looked at the ambulance again, where the medics were settling Alan in for what was sure to be a bumpy ride out of the city.

Brains followed his gaze. "I'll go," he offered quietly.

"No, Brains, I need you here to operate the equipment. With Alan gone..."

A woman who looked to be about their age stepped forward from behind Brains. "Hi," she said, holding her hand out to Scott. "Agent One-Thirteen."

Scott nodded slightly and shook her hand.

"If you want someone to stay with him, I'll go. I'm doctor of forensic medicine, I can keep an eye on what's going on at the hospital and maintain contact with you."

Scott, Virgil and Brains exchanged glances. They all nodded in silent agreement.

"Okay, 113," Scott said. "I'd greatly appreciate it." As she began walking away, he ran after her. "Here!" he said, removing the com watch from his wrist. "Use this to stay in touch. It's a direct link to Mobile Control."

113 turned, smiled and took the watch from Scott's hand. "I know we don't use names much here, but if you don't mind my asking..." she said, nodding her head toward the ambulance.

"Alan. His name's Alan," Scott replied.

She nodded and leapt into the back of the ambulance. "I'll take good care of him!" she called out. The two firemen, Aaron and Al, closed the doors behind her and pounded on the sides of the vehicle, letting them know it was okay to go.

Virgil and Brains came to stand on either side of Scott, and they watched the ambulance speed away, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

"Her name," Scott said. "I didn't even think to ask her name."

03:50:21

Ruth and Penny turned at the sound of an incoming transmission. The portraits on the wall soon revealed who was calling in.

"Scott!" Ruth cried as she jabbed the line open. "Scott! Where have you been?"

"Sorry, Grandma," he smiled tiredly.

"Is Alan all right? What happened?" Penelope asked.

"Hi, Penny," Scott acknowledged from his spot on the next wall. "Alan was using Firefly to clear debris, and best they can figure, he fired a nitro pellet right into an unexploded UH-3 bomb."

"Alan," Ruth said, rising to her feet. "What about Alan? How is he?"

"Well, he's alive, but he's in bad shape, Grandma. One of our agents, a doctor, is going with him to the hospital."

"I'm going, too," Ruth announced.

"Ruth..."

"No, Penny. I'm not going to sit here while my grandson lies in a hospital somewhere with only a stranger to look out for him."

"Scott? Mother? Penny? What's going on?"

"Ah, Jeff. Scott's just rung us with news about Alan," Penny replied.

"How is he, Scott?"

"Not too good, Dad. We sent Agent 113 with him in the ambulance. I'm getting ready to deploy Virgil again in the Mole, but Firefly's shot."

"113, you say?"

"Yeah, Father, do you know her?"

"Sure, she's in forensics. I met her two years ago in Brazil. It was pure happenstance, but I knew she was agent material. Dr. Megan Crawford. Now, listen up. Kyrano says Gordon and Tin-Tin are underwater somewhere. When we get back to Base, we'll need to try and pinpoint their exact location."

"Jeff, I will not sit idly by while Alan's thousands of miles away! I want someone to take me to Alan immediately!" Ruth practically ordered.

He sighed. Jeff understood exactly where she was coming from. He wanted to see his son, too. "All right. I'll pick you up and take you myself. Kyrano will have to man our equipment on Base."

"Jeff, I thought we discussed this already."

"Dammit, Penny, I know we did. But I can't just leave him there without seeing him. I can't."

There was a moment's silence until she replied, "I understand."

Jeff nodded his thanks. "What've you come up with on your end?"

"Well, your mother briefed me on the theory that it is Michael Canton who's engineering this whole thing. Based on that supposition, I made some inquiries and discovered that he's in possession of at least seven homes the world ‘round. He also owns many undeveloped properties in the United States, but I couldn't tie him to New Zealand at all."

"Mother? John? What about Tin-Tin's signal?"

"It's odd, Father," John replied. "It stopped for a while, then continued. Next thing I know, its shooting so fast it can only mean they took her somewhere in a plane or helijet."

"Yes," Kyrano said, his voice confident. "She was transported in an aircraft. She then boarded a submarine." The air waves were silent for a moment as they waited for more. "They're in a metal room. I feel her clearly."

"Jeff, I want to come with you," Penny said. She had the feeling he shouldn't be alone right now. She wanted to be there for him.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Right. Okay, here's the action: Kyrano and I should be home in less than an hour. When we arrive, we'll refuel and I'll take Mother to Los Angeles. We'll rendezvous with Penny and wait for Scott to arrive -- he can get us there faster than Tracy One. John, tell him to take off immediately."

"F.A.B., Father."

"H'and wot of Mister Kyrano and meself, Sir?"

"Parker, if you don't mind, I'm going to deploy you in FAB One. I don't have a way to transport you quickly, but I'd like you on the water. Hang about two hundred miles off the coast of California."

"Yes, Sir!" Parker said, glad to be of use.

"As for Kyrano, he'll be manning Base, but his primary objective will be to keep in contact with Tin-Tin at all times so we know what's happening over on their end. I'll also set him up with our monitoring equipment. Once we have a fix on all subs in the Pacific, we can start eliminating them."

"In contact with Tin-Tin?" Ruth questioned. "How?"

"With his mind," Penny replied, as if it was the silliest question she'd ever heard. "What shall we do once we've delivered Ruth to hospital?"

Jeff's face quirked into a half-grin at Penelope's use of his mother's first name. "We're going after Gordon and Tin-Tin."

A smile spread across Penny's face as she replied slowly, "F...A...B."

03:58:17

In spite of her best efforts, Megan Crawford wasn't allowed in the hospital's operating theatre, but watched from the viewing window as the staff struggled to bring Alan's blood pressure down and stabilize his heart rate. As they cut away what was left of his uniform and began to clean his skin, Megan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Doesn't look like his burns are as bad as we originally thought," she said to herself.

"Heart rate's dropping!"

"Ten cc's of dobutamine, stat!" the doctor ordered.

A nurse injected the drug directly into Alan's arm, but his pulse continued to decline.

"He's having trouble breathing, we need to intubate!"

"Get the paddles!"

"BP 91 over 42 and dropping!"

"Hold off, I need to get this tube in!"

The others raised their hands and waited for the doctor to insert a breathing tube into Alan's throat. A quick glance at the monitors showed he wasn't responding well.

"It's in!" the doctor announced.

One nurse moved to hook him up to the ventilator as another nurse brought over the atrial fibrillation machine. A third nurse cleaned Alan's legs, groin and stomach, while others applied gel medication to the burns to relieve pain and decrease the blistering. A sudden distinct mechanical whine froze them all in mid-action.

"I've lost the pulse! He's flatlining!"

"Ready AF!" A nurse placed two electrode patches on the skin directly above Alan's heart. "Stand clear!"

Everyone backed away as the doctor pressed a button. Alan's body lurched off the bed before thumping back down. The steady alarm and telltale line did not waver.

"Another ten cc's of dobutamine!"

A nurse elbowed in and jabbed Alan's arm with a syringe.

"Ready AF! Raise two points!"

She raised the voltage on the machine.

"Clear!"

Everyone stood down. The doctor pressed the button, and again Alan's body vaulted into the air, then pounded back down onto the bed. Still no heartbeat.

"Come on, Alan!" Megan shouted, palms against the viewing window. "You can do it! You can do it!" She thought of the bravery of this organization's members, an organization she was so honored to be a fringe member of. "He can't die. He just can't!"

"Ready AF! Raise three points! Ready? Clear!"

Alan's body arched upward one last time. Megan had to strain to see beyond the nurses to where the monitor hung above the bed. When at last it came into view, her eyes widened...

03:59:58

03:59:59

04:00:00

 

Hour Five

The following takes place between 4:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

04:00:58

Megan was jarred from the moment by an insistent beeping. At first she didn't know where it was coming from, but eventually figured out it was the watch given to her by the dark-haired member of International Rescue. She pulled it out of her pocket, but realized she hadn't a clue how to answer it.

"How do I get whoever it is to come in?" she wondered aloud. Suddenly that same man's face appeared on the watch dial. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Hello."

"Hi, Dr. Crawford."

"You...know my name."

"Yes. F--Erm--I checked the files to get it. How's Alan?"

Megan breathed a loud sigh of relief as she turned her attention back to the action beyond the viewing window. "He seems okay. I'll get the doctor to brief me in a few minutes."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Megan's eyes turned back to his. "They almost lost him." Scott closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he saw her watching him, concern etched upon her face. "But I think he's good for now. I'll let you know as soon as I hear from the doctor."

"I'm bringing other members of International Rescue to the hospital. Once we arrive, I'd like you back at the lab to assist Brains. He's verified UH-3 as the component used in these bombs, and they're trying to figure a way to disarm the ones Acronym's planning to drop on Southern California. Just in case."

"Okay, I'll keep a lookout."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"It's just Megan."

He smiled wearily. "Fine. And my name's Scott."

"Right. See you after a bit."

"Call me immediately if anything changes."

"I will."

04:05:01

Virgil, who'd returned to the Mole, was on his way to the White House. Without Firefly to assist, he and Scott had determined the best way to get inside the ring of fire that still burned steadily around it was to take a handful of emergency personnel down in the gigantic drilling machine. Brains had been given the task of piloting the Laser Beam Equipment, or "Elbee," as they called it. He would take on using the vehicle's powerful laser beam to cut away obstructions elsewhere so rescues could be carried out.

At the same time, Brains was on an open channel with Dr. Godfrey and the two International Rescue agents/scientists who'd gone back to the lab in Arlington to begin working on a solution for neutralizing UH-3. Brains would work the problem with them remotely, while Dr. Crawford would join them there as soon as Jeff, Penny, Scott and Ruth arrived at the hospital. Ten other agents were currently using a large crane along with several other pieces of equipment to hoist Firefly out of the area and back to Thunderbird 2 as quickly as possible to avoid potential breaches of security.

Before leaving, Scott reconnoitered where all the other operatives were, updated his charts and set about the task of ensuring people were deployed where they were needed. He was understandably upset by Megan's statement that they'd almost lost Alan, but also greatly relieved to hear he'd survived. And he was glad he'd be seeing him soon.

Given what some of the agents on the perimeter of the Danger Zone were saying, Scott was secretly glad Mobile Control had been set up further in. Apparently people were beginning to gather, and some rather unfriendly sentiments toward International Rescue were being expressed in no uncertain terms. Fortunately for the agents, however, no one outside the organization knew they were International Rescue. So they were, at least for the moment, safe from harm.

Now, as he raced Thunderbird 1 toward Los Angeles, he found it difficult to concentrate on flying her...fortunately, he'd been doing it for so long it was second nature. He was leaving Virgil out there in the thick of things, as well as Brains. His mind drifted to Gordon and Tin-Tin, both of whom were being held by that madman Acronym. And Alan, in the hospital fighting for his life. Everyone, it seemed, was in danger.

Little did Scott Tracy know that the danger was just beginning.

04:09:47

Gordon, who'd been lying on his back, rolled to the side and propped his head up on his hand. "How do you do that, anyway?"

"Do what?"

"You know, the stuff with Kyrano being able to read you. You feeling him."

"Well, my father comes from a long line of Practitioners. Being able to read me is an ability he has, and one that I have most likely inherited. But my blood is more diluted, so I don't have nearly his capabilities."

"Capabilities?"

Tin-Tin rolled over on her side, propping her head up on her hand as well. "Yes, such as being able to mentally connect with another mind, to ascertain how they're feeling, what thoughts they're thinking. Things like that."

"Oh. Wow. And, uh...you can't do that?"

Tin-Tin laughed in spite of their rather dire situation. "No, Gordon, I can't. Why, are you worried I might find out something about you that you don't want anyone to know?"

Had she been able to see him, she would've caught the slight blush that appeared on his cheeks. "No, ‘course not," he replied, his voice light. "Just wondering."

She sighed. "They must be doing something. I just wish we knew what."

"Well, Kyrano'll probably let you know, don'cha think?"

She sighed. "Yes, you're right. I'm certain he will. I just don't like having to wait around here for someone else to decide our fates."

Gordon's mind began to work the problem. He came to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the room.

"What are you doing, Gordon?"

"Thinking Tin-Tin. Thinking."

"About what?"

"I'm gonna figure us a way out of here."

04:17:30

Los Angeles International Airport was buzzing. More so than usual. Abandoning his usual position as "First Man on the Scene," Ned Cook had taken on the role of Master Organizer. He found within Unity Airline's Horizon Club, which LAX had closed temporarily to assist International Rescuees in their efforts. Once there, group members would be given a debriefing as to their role in helping International Rescue.

Finding these people and getting them to the proper location was not, however, as easy a task as one might think. For starters, Southern California had been placed on the highest state of alert possible thanks to the threats made by Acronym. This had caused mass panic, so typical in situations such as these. Great hordes of people crowded LAX and every other airport, train station and bus terminal in the area. The freeways were jammed.

Ned, having covered several large stories from Los Angeles International Airport throughout his career, had become quite good friends with both the Transportation and Security Administration's top man and the head of Unity Airline's management. As such, he'd been able to finagle the use of several of their smaller aircraft to transport the Rescuees to different locales throughout Southern California.

The Ground Security Coordinator and head of Airport Police had their hands full with the crowds, so they truly couldn't be of much help. Once Ned got each person or family to the Club, it would be a matter of figuring out who was going where, and how to keep the press from interfering and discovering their plan of action. And how to keep them from finding out their connection to International Rescue, period.

That was where Ned came through again. His knowledge of how the media got wind of big stories like this almost completely ensured his ability to keep the whole thing quiet. And the desperate folks trying to escape the state were so focused on leaving they hadn't a care for the trickle of nondescript Average Joe's who were actually coming in to the airport.

Now, as Ned sat at a table inside the Club that he'd commandeered, he looked over his laptop computer screen, upon which a constant feed of his organization's passenger names, airlines and flights was coming through. While half of his brain was keeping up with flight information, the other half was checking people in and assigning them to locations as per the plan he and Jeff Tracy had worked out. It would be quite some time before the majority of the Rescuees arrived, but already Ned was feeling the pressure.

After all, International Rescue had saved his life. And the lives of all these people who were now arriving with their loved ones. It was their chance to pay them back. This was the biggest thing Ned Cook had ever done. And he couldn't fail those great men who needed him now. He wouldn't.

04:29:59

"Jeff, how much longer ‘til we're at the hospital?"

He smiled, raising his eyebrows as he stole a sideways glance at Ruth. "Mother, do you remember a certain someone telling me that if I asked ‘Are we there yet?' one more time she was going to stop the car and make me walk the rest of the way?"

"Jefferson Tracy, are you threatening to make me drop to earth like a stone in order to see my grandson?"

"Of course not, Mother. I'll give you a parachute."

Penny gasped softly. "Jeff!" But Ruth and her son were laughing together, and Penny frowned in consternation. Heavens, if she'd ever spoken to her parents in such a fashion, the outcome would have been much more severe than laughter.

"Really, Mother, we're only just over 20 minutes out now. We'll be there before you know it."

"All right, all right," Ruth muttered, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Well, I never," Penny said softly. "You two never cease to amaze me."

Ruth looked over her shoulder at her. "Penelope, my dear, to quote good Kansas folk, you ain't seen nothin' yet!"

Scott, listening to the banter in Thunderbird One's Lounge from his spot in the cockpit, couldn't help but laugh. His grandmother was right. Penny hadn't seen anything yet.

04:31:03

Kyrano continued to watch the news coverage about Washington, D.C. and kept in regular contact with John on the space station. He also allowed part of himself to hover with his daughter, wherever she was beneath the sea. He could feel her quite clearly, and she felt calm, if somewhat perturbed. He smiled. Only Tin-Tin would feel annoyance instead of fright in the face of such danger. He was glad she was not alone, however. Gordon would take care of her, as best he could. For his presence, Kyrano was grateful.

But he began to get the feeling that something was wrong. On some level, he felt very strange. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, but it somehow confused him. And then suddenly he realized the connection with his daughter had been severed. Trying desperately to re-establish it, he jumped when the vidphone behind him rang. He turned to face it, trying to keep his mind steady, knowing full well who it would be. He opened the line and said, "Hello?"

Voice Only was selected. And it was the same voice from before. "You're not Jefferson," he said.

"No. I am not. What can I do for you?"

"I will only talk to Jeff Tracy!"

"Please hold the line for one moment."

Kyrano placed Acronym on hold and opened a channel to Jeff's com watch. "Mr. Tracy, this is Kyrano. Please come in."

"I'm here, Kyrano. What's happening?"

"I have Acronym on the video phone, Sir. He will speak only with you. I thought perhaps it would not be wise to state you are unavailable."

"Good point. Okay, can you patch us through?"

"I can do that for you, Father," came John's voice. "Gimme a sec."

Within moments, John had patched Jeff's Lounge vid phone directly through to his watch. Jeff quickly motioned for both Penny and his mother to remain silent.

"This is Jeff Tracy," he said.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to worry when you didn't answer your line."

"Well, I'm here now. What do you want?"

"I want to know what you're doing about our little agreement."

"I've made no agreement with you."

"You should reconsider that position, Jefferson. Especially considering that I now have two hostages. You were aware of that, were you not?"

"You told a television station, how could I have missed it?"

Acronym laughed. Jeff thought hard. Did he want to let the man know they were on to his identity? What purpose could it serve? The only result Jeff could see at this point would be the quick deaths of Tin-Tin and Gordon. No, best to keep that to himself until they had a better grasp of the situation.

"Well, then, I suspect you are most likely trying to come up with a plan to foil what I have in store for you and for Southern California. Mark my words, Jefferson: if you attempt to do anything but what you have been instructed to do, that is, reveal your identities to the rest of the world, your son and Kyrano's daughter will die."

Jeff's face hardened. His eyes were on fire.

"Not to mention the millions of innocent people in California," Acronym added. "And you'd better do it soon, Tracy. People out there are starting to say some nasty things about you."

Opening his mouth to reply, Jeff didn't get the chance as Acronym closed down. "That sonofabitch," he swore softly. "What I don't get is why he doesn't just tell the world himself! He obviously knows everything about us. It doesn't make sense. Damn him for putting Gordon and Tin-Tin in danger for no reason."

"Don't worry, Jeff," Penny said, hoping to calm him. "They're still all right. They'll be all right."

Jeff raised his watch to his face once more. "Kyrano, are you still sensing Tin-Tin?"

There was no reply.

"Kyrano?"

Silence.

"Oh, God," Jeff moaned, his eyes darkening. "Not now. Please not now."

04:45:47

Tin-Tin blanched, gasping at the jolt of pain that shot through her head.

"What is it?" Gordon asked, making his way to her side.

"Father," she breathed, tears coming to her eyes.

"Kyrano? What? What's wrong?"

"He's...he's left me. I--I can't feel him any longer."

"Maybe he's just busy doing something else."

"No," Tin-Tin whispered. "It doesn't feel that way. He's just...gone."

04:48:12

"Scott?"

"Yes, Father."

"As soon as we drop Grandma in Arlington, I need you to high-tail it back to the island as fast as your engines will go."

"What's going on?"

"We've lost contact with Kyrano."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, son. But you, Penny and I need to get back there ASAP."

"F.A.B."

"I'll have Mother send Dr. Crawford to the laboratory in a cab. Brains will join them and figure out how to stop those UH-3 bombs."

"I wonder what's happened to Kyrano."

"Right now, I have no idea. But I've got a bad feeling. A very bad feeling."

04:51:10

From the Grand Chamber in the bowels of his majestic Malaysian temple, a man known to the world as arch-criminal the Hood stood with arms spread wide. Without a word, he slowly brought them together until his hands rested palm-to-palm. In front of him on a raised dais, beaded curtains swished closed, hiding a bronze statue behind their glittering shroud. The Hood grimaced, his eyes glowing with anger.

"Who does this Acronym think he is?" the evil man spat, turning to walk to a nearby table. "He thinks he will have all the glory for unmasking International Rescue?"

Kyrano, though more difficult to get through to this time, had served him well. And whoever this Acronym was, there was no way the Hood was going to let him continue with his plot to unmask International Rescue. He felt their secrets were his and his alone. He had worked so long to own them, and now someone else was threatening to take his place as the one who brought them to their knees. He headed for his dressing room. Now was the time for action. Honestly, for that simpleton to think he could so easily take from the Hood what was rightfully his. The nerve!

"Fool!" he barked as maidservants came to disrobe him. "He shall pay for this. He shall not prevail!"

04:53:04

"This is Thunderbird One on broadcast. We're landing at the hospital now. I'll be in touch as soon as we're on our way again."

Scott was having a very hard time with this. All he wanted to do was get out of his Thunderbird and go see his baby brother. But if Kyrano wasn't responding to his father's hails, it could mean very menacing things...things which should not be left alone. In the end, he knew it was best to stay put and continue trying to get through to the island. If only he could get his mind to stop wandering to all the possible horrors that might await them there...

04:55:56

Kyrano didn't move a muscle. This last attack by his half-brother had been worse than any to come before it. The Hood had probed so deeply into his mind, so completely overtaken him, that his body began shutting down in an effort to protect the man from the mental invasion. Continued cries trying to rouse him came over the speakers placed here and there throughout the Lounge, but Kyrano did not hear. He could not. For as each second ticked away, as each grain of sand passed through the hourglass, so did his heart slow.

He could not raise his consciousness, could not locate his daughter's mind.

And slow.

He couldn't make his voice work, couldn't get a single word to form upon his lips.

And slow.

I will not allow this to take me.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

I cannot leave them now. They need me too much.

Ba...bump. Ba...bump. Ba...bump.

They don't even know that he knows. They don't know the Hood knows. They...they don't...

Ba...ba...bump.

Ba...ba...ba...bump.

Bump...

04:59:58

04:59:59

05:00:00

 

Hour Six

The following takes place between 5:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

05:00:02

Jeff and Ruth raced into the hospital, leaving Scott and Penny waiting in Thunderbird 1. Their inquiries as to the International Rescue member brought in led them to a fourth-floor operating ward. Jeff recognized Dr. Crawford immediately. She was speaking with a physician in full surgical gear. Ruth stood by the viewing window, where she could see nurses dressing Alan's wounds and taping down various needles and tubes inserted into his body. Tears sprang to her eyes.

The surgeon turned away from Megan and stepped back into the operating room as Jeff strode over. "Dr. Crawford. Thank you for being here for Alan."

Megan turned and smiled when she saw who was speaking. "Hi, Mr. Tracy. Good to see you again," she said, shaking his hand. "Although I do wish it were under better circumstances."

"As do I. And please, call me Jeff. That way I can pretend I'm not old enough to be your father."

Megan laughed. She'd forgotten what a decent sense of humor this man had. The three days she'd spent in his company two years ago in Brazil had been enjoyable. They'd met by chance at a restaurant, where she'd recognized him from his mission to the Moon. They'd gotten to chatting that evening and had spent several hours over the next two days together, talking about what Megan did, about her family, her background. It was only on the afternoon of the third day, right before he was due to leave Brazil that she found out why he'd been grilling her so much. He wanted her to become an agent for International Rescue. She had never been more pleased or honored, and had readily agreed.

And now, even in the least pleasant of circumstances, he maintained the charming persona she remembered so well. She turned toward the surgeon, who was just returning. "All right, then. Jeff, this is Dr. Gray. He's the one who saved Alan's life."

Jeff stuck his hand out to the fifty-ish salt-and-pepper-haired man standing before him as Megan headed for the ladies room. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done, Doctor. Could you please give me the details?"

It wasn't really a question. It was more like an order. Dr. Gray cocked his head in surprise. Whoever this man standing before him was, he guessed it was a man used to being in command. And since the life he'd just saved belonged to a member of International Rescue...well, the good doctor was no dummy. Still and all, there were rules to be followed.

"I need to know your relationship to the patient. I can't disclose confidential information to just anyone."

Jeff closed his eyes. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. The doctor probably already had an idea as to his involvement with International Rescue at this point, but if he so much as had an inkling about his true relationship to Alan, it could pose problems. He turned to his mother. She understood immediately and pulled her wallet from her purse.

"Dr. Gray, my name is Ruth Tracy. Your patient's name is Alan Tracy. I'm his grandmother."

The doctor looked at Ruth's ID card and nodded before turning to Jeff. "And you, Sir?"

His face like stone, Jeff said, "I'll wait here."

Dr. Gray nodded. "Yes, of course. Mrs. Tracy, if you'll follow me to the waiting room just down the hall, we can discuss the patient's condition."

When they'd reached the security of the glass-walled waiting room, Ruth asked, "What are they doing to him now?"

"They're preparing him to be moved to Intensive Care, ma'am."

Jeff waited near the OR. Megan soon emerged from the ladies room and approached him. "Where'd everybody go?"

"The doctor is speaking to..." Jeff hesitated. Megan knew his full name, but not Ruth's or Alan's last names. "He's speaking to my companion regarding Alan's condition."

Megan frowned as she looked down the hall toward the waiting room. Why on Earth would Jeff have sent the woman to speak with the doctor and not gone himself?

"Please have a seat," Dr. Gray said, doing the same. "Now, whatever it was that happened to this man out there, it caused severe 3rd degree burns, but only over about 5% of his body. Luckily for him, the uniform he wore took the brunt of the heat. Must be some kind of special material. At any rate, I cannot be certain why his blood pressure dropped and his heart stopped earlier, but there is one possibility."

"Alan's heart...stopped?" Ruth asked, biting her lower lip.

"Yes, I'm afraid it did. We had to intubate him to get him breathing, and we had to use the atrial fibrillator to restart his heart."

"What's the possibility you spoke of?" she asked.

"Well, to be frank, I think young Alan took a severe blow to the head. It's possible that affected the automatic functions of his body, things like breathing and heartbeat. We'll go ahead and do some brain scans to determine if there is any damage."

Ruth came to her feet. "Can I see him?"

"Five minutes. And don't get in the nurses' ways."

She nodded and headed back to where Alan was still being prepared for the ICU. Noting that the doctor had gone the opposite direction, she motioned for Jeff to join her.

He entered the room musing that it wasn't the first time he'd been to a hospital to visit an injured son. Gordon had by far suffered the most frightening and severe injury to date, but it never failed to make his heart skip several beats when any of his boys were injured. Ruth quietly explained what the doctor had told her.

He was relieved to see that, as Dr. Gray had said, the terrible burns Alan had received were few and far between. His chest seemed to be rising and falling normally, and a look at the heart rate monitor told him something he already knew: his son was a fighter. He reached down and grabbed one of Alan's hands, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Then he bent down so that his lips were near Alan's ear and said, "I can't be here for you right now, son. But Grandma is here. She'll stay with you until you're better. Don't worry about anything. We'll find Gordon and Tin-Tin and we'll see they're brought home safe and sound. You concentrate on getting better so you can be there when they return." He drew back and stared at his unconscious son's face. Then he spoke once more. "I love you, Alan."

Standing in the doorway to keep watch for Dr. Gray, Ruth couldn't help the tears that escaped her eyes as she listened to her son's words. When the doctor rounded the far corner, she hurried to Alan's bedside.

"Jeff, you have to leave."

He nodded. "Take care of him for me, Mother." Taking one last look at his son, he turned walked out of the room.

05:13:59

"Dammit, there has to be a way outta this!" Gordon's frustration was more than apparent. Tin-Tin had never quite heard her unflappable housemate sound so...annoyed.

"If we're underwater, that probably means we're in a submarine. And judging by the pressure on my eardrums, I'd say we're fairly deep."

"Right," replied Gordon, who'd given up pacing and now sat against the far wall, knees tucked under his chin. "And that's the problem. We can't just escape through a hatch. If we're deep enough, the pressure would kill us as soon as we hit the water."

Still unwilling to let him stay out of her personal space for too long, Tin-Tin inched her way over and leaned on the wall next to him. "Depressurization Diving Suits."

"DDS's? But how do we know if they have 'em?"

"We don't," she sighed. "We also don't know where they'd keep them if they do."

"I know," he replied confidently. "I know exactly where they'd keep them."

"There's still the door," she reminded him gently.

"Tin-Tin?" he said, a smile on his face. "Prepare yourself. I'm about to play magician." Halfway across the room, Gordon nearly jumped out of his skin when she gasped. He whirled around to face the sound and said her name. When she didn't reply, he retraced his steps, hands low in front of him to feel for her so he wouldn't step on her. "Tin-Tin?"

"Gordon...Gordon..." Her breath was uneven and her voice made it sound like she was in pain.

He knelt next to her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her leg. "What is it?"

"Oh, Gordon, it's Father!" she cried, unable to keep the tears at bay.

"What about him?"

"He's...he's dying!"

05:20:00

"Have you heard from Kyrano?"

"No, Father, I haven't been able to raise him."

"All right, Scott, I'm strapped in. Let's get back to Base."

"F.A.B. Here we go."

Thunderbird One's VTOL rocket fired and she lifted effortlessly into the air. Scott increased speed until he was doing well over 7,500 miles per hour. When at last she was cruising along, he decided it was time to ask.

"Father? How's Al?"

"I was just telling Penny. He's stable for now, son. They...they almost lost him. His heart stopped." Scott shook his head. He could hear the pain in his father's voice.

"He's intubated and on a ventilator. IV's, feeding lines, the usual. They were about to move him to Intensive Care when I left. Grandma's not allowed to stay in there with him, but she's going to hover outside."

Scott chuckled. "That sounds like Grandma. What about Dr. Crawford? Did she get off to the lab okay?"

"Yes. When I explained the situation to Dr. Gray, the doctor who saved Alan's life, he insisted on the hospital transporting her there in an ambulance so she could arrive as quickly as possible."

"All right. I'll radio Brains and let him know. They think they've got a line on how to stop those UH-3's. But from the sounds of it, Thunderbird 3's gonna have to launch."

"Thunderbird 3?"

"Yes. Whatever they want to make has to be dropped into the atmosphere."

"Scott? Patch me through to Brains."

"F.A.B. This is Thunderbird One calling Brains. Come in, Brains."

05:24:04

"This is, uh, Brains. Go ahead."

"Brains, this is Jeff."

"Hello, Mr. Tracy. Uh, how's A-Alan?"

"They're moving him to the ICU. He gave us a bit of a scare, but they've stabilized him."

"That's, uh, good news."

"Now what's this Scott's telling me about Thunderbird 3 and Southern California?"

"Well, Sir, uh, we may have discovered a method by which the outer layer o-of the devices can be kept from dissolving, which would mean the, uh, UH-3 would still be too protected to e-explode upon impact."

"How's the device work?"

"Y-You see, the UH-3 is kept protected within a thin shell made o-of polystelenium. Rate o-of descent e-ensures the shell will, uh, buckle a-as soon as it makes contact with a, uh, solid o-object."

"And what about this outer layer?"

"That's the, uh, most difficult part of the whole thing. Doctors Godfrey, Otayuki, Payne and I think we may have determined how the protective outer layers of the devices are shed during their descent through the, uh, rarified a-atmosphere."

"What's the problem?"

"We don't have the, uh, necessary ingredients to create what Thunderbird 3 will need to drop on them as they descend."

"Right, Brains. Where can you get what you need?"

There was a moment's hesitation before he replied, "My laboratory."

"Dammit!" Jeff swore.

"And, uh, it's not something I can do alone. I-I'll need extra hands and know-how."

Jeff took a deep breath. No matter what happened, things just got more and more complicated. "Scott, how far have we come?"

"We're ten minutes out."

"All right. Turn around and pick up Brains and the other scientists."

"F.A.B."

"Brains, Thunderbird One's turning around. We'll be with you in about ten minutes. Make sure Dr. Crawford's with you. It'll be cramped in the cargo space, but it's the fastest way to get you home."

"Yes, Sir, uh, Mr. Tracy. We'll be ready."

"Jeff, do you think it's wise to bring the other scientists to Tracy Island?"

"I don't know if it's wise, Penny, but at this point I see very little in the way of alternatives."

Penny nodded silently as she watched Jeff out the corner of her eye. His fists clenched and unclenched in barely concealed irritation. "Jeff?" she said softly.

He turned to look at her, his expression unreadable.

"Are you all right?"

"Honestly?"

"Always."

"No. I'm not. I swear, Penny, if anything else goes wrong, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Penny unbuckled herself and rose gracefully to her feet. She crossed to Jeff and crouched down to be eye-level with him. Laying her delicate hands over his, she said, "It will be all right, Jeff. You must believe that."

He knew she was trying to encourage him, but Jeff was starting to doubt the possibility of success. Sure, Alan was okay...at least for the moment. But they still didn't know exactly where Tin-Tin and Gordon were, or how they were. Then there was Kyrano, for whose life he feared. Thunderbird 3 having to launch meant Scott wouldn't be on the ground to help. With Brains winding up back at Base lab, that left Virgil as the only senior International Rescue operative in the field.

Full of doubt, Jeff squeezed her hands, looked into her eyes and said, "I wish I could believe that right now, Penny. I wish I could."

05:38:57

"Father! No!"

"Tin-Tin!" Not knowing what else to do, Gordon allowed himself to hold her as she launched into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He smoothed her hair with one hand and rocked back and forth slowly. "Oh...Gor-Gordon...he's...oh, Father!"

"Is he alone? What's happened to him?"

"I...I don't...know!" she cried. "His heart...his heart...I can feel it...it's so slow. Gordon...it's barely beating!"

Think, Gordo, think! There has to be something! And just like that, it came to him. "Tin-Tin...you said you didn't have your father's capabilities."

She just shook her head, soaking his sweatshirt with her tears.

"How do you know that? Have you ever...have you ever tried?"

Lifting her head, she sniffled as she thought about that. Well, truthfully, she'd never really tried to do what her father could do. She'd given it half-hearted attempts in the past, but had inherited her mother's impatience, or so Kyrano always told her. This meant that she couldn't sit still long enough to even try and bring her mind to the level that Kyrano insisted she must in order to reach out over distances, over time and space, over the very fabric of the universe.

"Not really," she finally replied.

"Try it."

"Try what?"

"I don't know. I don't know how it works. But maybe...maybe if you, well, if you think about his heart beating faster, maybe it'll happen?"

She wiped the tears from her face. "I'm not sure I can."

"You have to try. He's your father. You have to try!"

Nodding, she moved out of Gordon's arms and seated herself cross-legged on the floor. Folding her hands palm-to-palm in front of her, she took several deep breaths.

"What can I do?"

"I don't know. Stay here with me. Right here. I may need to draw from your energy."

"Okay." Gordon moved to sit in front of her. He crossed his legs Indian-style and laid his hands on his thighs. "Now what?"

"Close your eyes," she commanded, her voice suddenly steady. "Take a deep breath in through your nose. Hold it to the count of eight and release through your mouth."

He did as requested.

"Do it again. With each count of eight, with each breath you release, picture all your cares escaping your body. Feel yourself relax."

He nodded and continued to inhale, count to eight and exhale. Inhale. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. Exhale. To his surprise, it was actually working. In spite of the fact that they were being held hostage, in spite of the fact that there seemed to be no escape, in spite of everything, Gordon felt himself relaxing.

"Yes, that's it," Tin-Tin said softly. "Now we must think of Father. We must concentrate on finding his mind. It will be difficult, Gordon. He is almost gone." On that last word, she choked back a sob. But she knew she had to keep her mind on what she was doing. She could only pray she and Gordon together would be strong enough to keep Kyrano alive until he could get help.

05:44:27

Things were going much more smoothly for Ned Cook than he'd anticipated. Over one thousand members of International Rescuees and their families had arrived. He'd already sent three planeloads of people to Barstow, Palm Springs and San Diego. A message from Jeff Tracy had advised him to appoint one or two people in each group as leaders. Before too much time had passed, Mr. Tracy said, those leaders would need to take charge of each group and explain instructions that would come after a few hours.

Meanwhile, Los Angeles International Airport was bursting at the seams with panicked Southern Californians who were trying anything they could to get out of the state. There had even been two attempted hijackings by overly desperate individuals, but those had been stopped thanks to the Airport Police. Ned just shook his head sadly as one of the monitors in the Horizon Club showed the chaos beyond. People were getting hurt, being trampled by others, doing things that they would never do under normal circumstances.

Unable to stand the self-imposed carnage of these people any longer, Ned did something he wasn't sure he should do. But that had never stopped him before, he thought, as he recalled that first run-in he'd had with Thunderbird One so long ago. He'd wanted his story, and footage of the great ship taking off. In spite of its pilot's insistence that he not take pictures, Ned went ahead and tried it anyway. He nearly laughed out loud as he remembered how Joe's film had been electromagnetically erased, and how incensed he himself had been. And now, here he was doing everything he could to help them keep their secrets.

"It's ironic," he whispered as he brought a microphone up to his mouth. Pressing a button, he rang Unity Airlines' central office. "This is Ned Cook in the Horizon Club."

"Reading you, Cook."

"I want you to patch me through to the general PA."

"I don't think we can do that."

"Don't think you can or don't think you will?"

"Why do you want widespread public address?" Before Ned even had a chance to respond, he heard another voice on Unity's end. After a short conversation, the person he'd been speaking to came back on the line. "All right, Mr. Cook. I'm patching you through now."

God bless Ray Archer, Ned thought. It really did pay to know the head of Unity's management. Okay, Ned. You need to save peoples' lives out there. Make this speech your best ever.

05:50:05

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Ned Cook. Could I please have your attention?" He watched the monitor and was pleased that his voice still had this effect on folks after so many years in the business. For they were stopping, and they were shutting their mouths. "You may know me from my long-running television show. You may also know me from my association with NTBS. Or, you may be familiar with the fact that my life was saved ten years ago by International Rescue."

Mentioning the world's most famous...and right now somewhat infamous...heroes stopped the public cold in their tracks. Their faces turned up toward the ceiling as they waited to hear what he had to say. "Since you're all here trying to get out of Southern California, I will assume you're aware of what's happened. Aware of the fact that International Rescue is facing complete ruin as we speak. Aware that Washington, D.C. has been laid to waste and that the same has been threatened upon this area."

Several heads nodded.

"I want you to listen to me, and I want you listen carefully. The more out of control you get, the more you risk taking your own lives without the help of the madman behind all this. Don't do his work for him. Don't let him change you from sensible people into people as crazy as he is. Now, I know you want to get out of here. But if you do so in a calm and orderly fashion, you're more likely to get your wish than if you kill each other. Look at the person next to you. Do you know them? No? It doesn't matter. They have lives and families just like you do. They don't want to die any more than you do. They have a right to get out of here as much as you do. Would you kill your brother, your sister, your father, your mother, your children just to save your own life? Well all those around you are your brothers and sisters. We are all members of the human race. And we're facing a crisis. Let's work together to get out of it. Let's respect each other as fellow human beings. It isn't over 'til it's over."

Ned took a deep breath. He knew he couldn't say anything about what International Rescue was trying to do, for surely it would get back to Acronym somehow. So he decided to finish rather mysteriously, hoping it would be enough.

"And don't forget, Ladies and Gentlemen: there's always hope."

05:53:43

"Mole calling Mobile Control."

"Mobile Control here. Agent Fifty-Three speaking."

"53, I've just emerged from the White House. Or what's left of it, anyway. We found two survivors. One of them is the president."

"He's alive?!?"

"Yes. He's pretty beat up. They're loading him into the ambulance now. The other survivor is an as-yet unidentified female. She's unconscious, but not too bad off, I don't think. I'm gonna check out the caterpillars on The Mole, I thought one of 'em sounded funny. Work out where you need me next."

"Roger that, Mole. Contact me as soon as you're ready for deployment."

"F.A.B." Virgil exited the drilling machine and watched as the paramedics and firemen loaded President Grable and the woman into an ambulance and sped away. He was covered in soot and grime. "What I wouldn't give right now for a shower," he mumbled as he headed back to The Mole. He stopped for a moment and looked up at the wall of fire not twenty yards in front of him. While inside it, they'd discovered that a gas line had ruptured, apparently in a nearly perfect circle, around the perimeter of the White House grounds.

That's why they couldn't get the fire to go out. There were a handful of firemen trying to shut the gas off about a hundred yards due west, but so far they'd been unsuccessful. Virgil took his hat off and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. First thing he'd do when he got back into The Mole was call up Scott in Thunderbird One. He desperately wanted to know how Alan was, and what was going on beyond the Danger Zone.

As he turned to head for the other side of the gigantic machine, six firefighters came running by, screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs. "Get back! Get back! It's gonna go! It's gonna blow!"

Virgil whirled around to look at the ring of fire. He heard a telltale hiss that turned quickly into a whine. He knew what that meant. "Oh, shit!" he yelled, turning tail. But before he could even lift a leg to run, it happened.

An entire ten-foot section of gas line in front of The Mole ripped apart. Gas whooshed through and, ignited by the already-burning fire, exploded in a deafening roar, sending forth a shockwave that slammed into Virgil's back like a speeding Mack truck. His feet left the ground instantly. Arms and legs flailing, he sailed through the air. Time moved in slow motion as he watched himself come nearer and nearer the ground...nearer and nearer to what was left of a torn up car. He cried out and tried to curl himself into a ball as he hurtled toward his destination.

As the flames behind him licked the tip of The Mole's massive bore, Virgil crashed into the cracked windshield of the car, smashing right through it. By the time the firemen who'd been running picked themselves up off the ground and made their way to the man from International Rescue, there was blood everywhere.

Virgil Tracy did not move.

05:59:58

05:59:59

06:00:00

 

Hour Seven

The following takes place between 6:00 a.m. and 7:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

06:00:15

The Hood sneered as his cargo jet raced through the sky. He'd been in the air for just under thirty minutes. It had taken him a while to get the right contacts to give him the information he required to carry out his plan to stop Acronym from taking what he considered to be rightfully his. He had sparred with International Rescue since before they'd even begun operating. For over ten years he had coveted their secrets. He wasn't about to let some imbecile interfere now.

His text monitor signaled an incoming transmission. The Hood flipped a switch to download the message and discovered that his contacts had dug up quite a bit of information on the man calling himself Acronym. Namely, that he was Michael Canton II, Jeff Tracy's foremost nemesis, apparently both in public and private life, if his resources were accurate. "That explains why he wishes to cause his downfall," The Hood mused.

As much as they'd come up with, they still didn't have the one thing The Hood wanted: Acronym's current location. Then his radio buzzed, and he opened the line. "I am here," he said.

"Sir, we've picked something up that might be of some interest. A transmission coming from the Pacific."

"The Pacific? What was included in this transmission?"

"It was full of static, but we managed to hear the words hostage, under there and go deeper."

The Hood frowned thoughtfully. Hostage...under there...go deeper. "Where in the Pacific did this transmission originate?"

"Eighteen degrees, ten feet south; one hundred seventy-eight degrees, one foot east."

"Very well. Were you able to locate transmission destination?"

"Negative. The transmission hit several satellites, and we lost the signal."

"Continue monitoring that frequency. I want to know the moment another message is intercepted."

"Yes, Sir."

"So, Acronym, you are either hiding aboard a submarine or keeping someone beneath the sea...the hostages perhaps? We shall find out soon enough."

The Hood knew that even though his cargo jet was faster than most with a top speed of 1,000 miles per hour, it would still be another three-and-a-half hours before he reached New Guinea. From there he would launch his new subjet. It was the fastest submersible in existence besides Thunderbird 4, and he was quite pleased with himself that he'd saw fit to steal it less than a month previous.

"Once I land, it will take no more than ninety minutes for me to reach these coordinates. And then, Acronym, if you are on board the submarine, I shall see you do not escape with your life."

06:09:17

"How far are we out, Scott?"

"Just about an hour, Father, at present speed of seven.point.five thousand miles per hour."

"We need to get there faster. I want you to increase to ten thousand."

Scott's eyes widened. "Ten thousand? Father, you're in cramped quarters back there as it is. If I hit ten-k, I'll be scraping your teeth outta my engines for weeks!"

"Ten thousand, Scott. We'll be fine back here. We don't have a moment to lose."

Scott exhaled and shook his head. He knew his dad was right...time was of the essence. He just hoped everyone in the back could handle the G-force okay. "F.A.B. Increasing speed." He watched the air speed indicator as he opened the throttle wider and wider. "Seven.point.eight thousand. Eight.point.one thousand. Eight.point.four thousand. Everyone still okay?"

"Fine," replied Jeff.

"Eight.point.eight thousand. Nine.point.two thousand. Nine.point.seven thousand. Ten thousand. Maintaining speed."

"F.A.B."

Back in the cargo hold, which had been converted to a passenger cabin, Jeff and Penny people held tightly to their seats while the remaining passengers sat squished together on the floor. Doctors Otayuki and Godfrey looked almost ready to vomit, as they were the only two facing the rear of the rocket. Brains and Megan looked none the worse for wear. Penny and Jeff, however, shared silent thoughts praying the two scientists didn't unload their partially digested breakfasts all over them.

Well, thought Jeff, it'll be worth it if it means saving Kyrano's life.

06:15:20

"Aw, Jesus, Al, look at the glass!"

The fireman named Al, who'd helped Scott when Alan had been injured, grabbed the CB fastened to his coat. "Company 5 to Mobile Control!"

"Mobile Control. Agent 53 speaking."

"Listen, one of your guys is down and down bad! We need EMS here now!"

"Roger that. Dispatching immediately. What is your location?"

"The west side of the White House. And step on it!"

"Will do. ETA of EMS to your location seven minutes."

"God, Aaron, should we move him?"

"I don't know. Hey, grab the kit outta the engine, will ya? We've gotta stop this bleeding."

"I'm on it!" Al called over his shoulder as he raced for a nearby fire engine.

"Tom, check his vitals! Brad, see if you can get into the front seat and support his weight. The more he sags like that, the more this glass'll cut into him."

As the two firefighters raced to obey their chief's orders, two others approached. "What about us, Aaron?"

"Fred, Dave, I want you to gather up a few of the others and see if you can't get that goddamned gas line shut off once and for all! This never should've happened!"

"Yes, Sir!" they replied in unison as they ran off.

"Sonofabitch!"

"What is it, Aaron?" Al asked, running up with the med kit.

"Goddammit, Al. We promised Scott we'd look after him. We promised!"

Al placed a comforting hand on his chief's shoulder. "I know we did. And we're gonna do just like we said. I'm not leaving this man's side until I know for sure he's okay."

"Thanks, Al. I'm gonna hold you to that. I just feel like we failed him. Both of them."

"Pulse is a little slow," Tom broke in. "Breathing is shallow, but he's holding his own."

"I'm in place!" Brad called from the cramped space in the car's front seat.

"All right, Al, Tom, help me hold him steady. Yeah, that's right. Okay, Brad, use your back as a table. Lift him until I give the word."

"Right, here I go."

On hands and knees, Brad slowly lifted himself, his back against Virgil's back.

"Keep coming," Aaron said. Tom was holding Virgil's head, while Aaron and Al were at his legs. "Keep coming...keep coming..." Virgil's torso became more and more level with his head and legs as Brad kept going. "All right, that's it! Stop! That should keep the glass in place for now. Can you hold that position?"

"Sure thing!" Brad called.

"Come on, fella," Aaron said to Virgil's still form as he heard sirens approaching. "You're gonna make it. You have to."

06:22:03

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five. Come in, Scott."

"Reading you loud and clear, John."

"I've got Sir Jeffery on the line. Says he needs to speak to Penelope right away."

"All right, John, patch him through to her compact. Any luck getting Kyrano?"

"No, Scott, not yet. I keep trying at ten-minute intervals. Ned Cook's reported in from LAX. Seems he had to step up and give the folks at the airport some kinda hell so they'd stop trampling each other."

Scott chuckled. "Well, if anyone could do it, it'd be Ned. How are the Rescuees coming along?"

"Like clockwork, he says. He's got five whole planeloads of ‘em gone already. Now they're just waiting for those planes to return so they can send out more."

"Good. I'll let Dad know. Meanwhile, I want you to keep an ear out for any communications coming from any place where there's no land."

"Why, Scott?"

"Kyrano seemed to think Tin-Tin and Gordon were underwater. If that's true, whoever's holding them must be transmitting."

"I get you. I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, John. Thunderbird One out."

"Wait! Scott!"

"What?"

"Hang on...it's Mobile Control. Agent 53. Oh, no. Oh, God, no."

"John, what?"

"Putting him through now."

Scott listened as Agent 53's husky and frantic voiced wafted through his speakers. "...repeat, this is Mobile Control. One of your men has been injured in a gas line explosion near the White House, he's unconscious. I repeat we have a man down near the White House."

The color drained from Scott's face. His hands and feet suddenly went numb. He tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, but found he couldn't wet his mouth. Man down. Explosion. White House. "Oh, God," Scott choked. "No. Not Virgil. Please...not Virgil."

06:25:48

"This is Lady Penelope speaking."

"Ah, Penelope, there you are. I've been trying to ring you for an hour now."

"My apologies, Sir Jeffery. What can I do for you?"

"Our task force in the States has just taken over Canton Corporation's headquarters in Kansas City. Local police have been most helpful. We've searched the building, as well as all of Canton's homes. To no avail, I'm afraid."

"Then they haven't found him."

"No. However, I'm pleased to report that we have located a woman who claims to be Michael Canton's personal secretary. She confirmed that he left yesterday afternoon in his private jet."

"Does she know what his destination was?"

"She can't be certain, but she did recall overhearing him speak of the Pacific Ocean."

Penny's eyes met Jeff's at exactly the same time. "Underwater," Jeff said. "The Pacific. That's got to be where Gordon and Tin-Tin are being held."

Turning back to her compact, Penny said, "Sir Jeffery, I can't thank you enough for your assistance. You've given us a great advantage here."

"Always at your service, Lady Penelope. In the meantime, I shall keep you posted as to further developments."

"I do appreciate that, Sir Jeffery. Lady Penelope out." She closed the compact and stuffed it in between her leg and the edge of her seat. "Well, Jeff. Looks like we'll be using Thunderbird Four."

"It sure does, Penny. It sure does."

"Father--" Scott's cracked voice came over the air.

Jeff blanched. Something wasn't right. "Scott? What is it?"

"Dad...Dad..."

"What? Scott, what?"

"Virg...Dad, it's Virg. He's--he's been hurt...injured...in a gas line explosion. He's not conscious."

Jeff visibly deflated. No one could bear to look his way as his eyes filled with tears, much against his will. Not even Penny, who was trying her best to hide her own raw emotions. There was a long, tense silence until Jeff found his voice.

"How bad is it?"

Scott's voice wavered. "I-I don't know. Agent 53 says--" He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. "He got thrown through air when a gas line exploded on the west side of the White House."

Jeff's voice was barely above a whisper when next he spoke. "How far out from Base are we?"

"Just under fifteen minutes, Dad."

Swiping a hand across his eyes, Jeff looked at each of his companions in turn until at last his eyes rested upon Penny's beautiful face. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she finally made herself look right back at him.

"Dad, I--I have to go. I have to go back to him. It's my fault he's there. I sent him there. I--I--"

Closing his eyes for a moment, Jeff took a deep breath, struggling to keep his anger and pain inside. Goddamn that Acronym. Only two of his five sons were still functional thanks to that bastard.

"Brains, how long you figure it'll take you five to whip up whatever concoction it is that needs to be taken up in Thunderbird 3?"

Clearing his throat, Brains replied, "I-I imagine we could have it ready in, uh, well, about four or five hours. Barring a-any setbacks, o-of course."

"Right. Scott, get us back to Base. We'll refuel and do a quick systems check. Then I want you back in Arlington to see to Virgil. As soon as you know he's out of danger, though, you get back to the island as fast as you can. You'll have four hours. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father," Scott replied, the relief evident in his voice. "Thanks, Dad."

Jeff nodded, aware that his son couldn't see it. He'd always known of the extraordinary bond that existed between his two oldest sons. And he knew damn well if he didn't let Scott look in on Virgil, it wouldn't do any of them any good. Not to mention the fact that since Jeff himself couldn't go, he knew the next best thing was for his field commander to be there.

Penny smiled slightly as she took out a handkerchief and wiped her face dry. She mouthed the words Hang on to him and was pleased when he nodded almost imperceptibly. He was hanging on. But for how long? How much more of this insanity could he take? How much could any man take?

06:37:10

They'd been at it for nearly an hour. Gordon had never felt more relaxed in his life. He repeated one thought over and over. Keep beating. Keep beating. Keep beating. Only one picture formed in his mind. Kyrano's heart beating steadily, healthily, beating rhythmically, as it should. Tin-Tin had said nothing in the last thirty minutes, but just as he was beginning to wonder if he should say something aloud, he felt a strange tingling in his head, a feeling that seemed to be coming from the right part of his brain.

And then he heard her. He actually heard her. But he wasn't hearing her voice through his ears. No. He was hearing her thoughts. Although he'd never done anything like this before, he knew...he just knew. Beat-ing stea-dy beat-ing stea-dy beat-ing stea-dy came the almost hypnotic rhythm of her words. He allowed his own inner voice to join hers and repeated in time with her, Beat-ing stea-dy beat-ing stea-dy beat-ing stea-dy.

She'd done it. Tin-Tin had reached that place where she never thought she'd be able to go. Gordon could only hope it was enough to save her father's life.

06:39:27

Dr. Gray rushed to where Ruth was curled up in a waiting room chair. She'd fallen asleep only a few minutes ago, and he hated to wake her, but--

"Ma'am? Ma'am, wake up."

Ruth's eyes popped open and she came to her feet swiftly, nearly knocking Dr. Gray over in the process. "What is it? Is it Alan? What's happened?"

"No, no, it's not Alan. It's...there's another member of International Rescue on the way. I just thought you'd want to know."

"What? Why would any of them be coming here?"

"He's injured, ma'am. Gas line explosion knocked him into a windshield. I'm on my way to the OR now to prep for his arrival."

Ruth nearly stopped breathing. It couldn't be. Alan was bad enough, but now... "Did...did they say what his uniform looked like? What color sash he was wearing?"

"Yes, ma'am. Yellow."

06:41:59

"Kyrano!" Jeff called out as he exited the elevator and raced into the Lounge. He stopped short in front of his desk, causing Penny to run right into his back. Brains and Scott narrowly avoided the pile-up. "Kyrano!"

Scott rushed to one side of him while Jeff went to the other. They lifted his upper body off the panel behind the desk and his head lolled forward. His lips had a bluish tinge to them and his breathing was so shallow Scott had to put his ear right up to his mouth to make sure it was coming at all.

"Father, he needs help."

Jeff lifted his old friend into his arms, noticing for the first time that he weighed almost nothing. It had never occurred to him how small Kyrano was. The man's very presence usually made it something that never even entered Jeff's mind. Now, as he carried him to the sofa and laid him gently upon it, he recognized a frailty he'd never seen before. "What happened to you?" he whispered.

"Jeff, we should get him to hospital," Penny said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He nodded. "Scott..."

"Right. As soon as she's fueled up again, we'll take off. Brains, can you--?"

"Sure thing," Brains interrupted. "Dr. Otayuki, please come with me. We, uh, have to get Thunderbird One refueled and checked out."

The Asian man followed Brains back to the elevator as Megan stepped forward. Jeff looked up at her, the strain of these events showing clearly upon his face. "Can you tell what's wrong with him?"

"Well, from the color of his lips and the surrounding area, I'd say he's had a severe lack of oxygen. You'll notice there's a bluish color to his fingers as well. Let me get his pulse." Jeff rose and backed away; grateful for the small hand he felt slip into his. He looked down at Penny, whose eyes were fixed on Kyrano. Megan touched her first two fingers to Kyrano's neck. After a few seconds, she frowned.

"What is it, Megan?"

"It's his heart. I'm sure of it. His pulse is weak and arrhythmic. My best guess at this point is that he's suffered a heart attack."

"I didn't even know he had a heart problem. What can we do?"

"Nitro. Do you have any nitro?"

Jeff raised his wrist. "Brains, this is Jeff. Nitro?"

"I-In the Sick Ward, Mr., uh, Tracy. Second cabinet to the, uh, left, Bay Two."

Scott was already out of the Lounge when he called over his shoulder, "I'll be right back."

Penny watched him go, and then turned to the three remaining scientists. "Since I know where the laboratory is, I shall take you there immediately."

They nodded, but Penny didn't move right away. She studied Kyrano's prone form, sad for his current state, nearly willing him to survive. "Will he live?" she asked, squeezing Jeff's hand.

Megan turned to face the lovely woman before her. "I honestly don't know, Lady Penelope."

Scott raced back into the room with a small bottle of nitroglycerin tablets. "Megan?" he said as he handed the bottle to her.

"Yes?"

"Would you ride along to Sydney with Kyrano, just to make sure...?"

Megan nodded as she opened the bottle, shook a tablet into her hand and placed it under Kyrano's tongue.

"Thanks," he half-smiled.

06:50:30

Gordon became aware of agitation. He wasn't sure at first whose agitation. Then he realized it was coming from Tin-Tin. For some reason, her steady chant had ceased running through his mind.

After having been in the darkness for so long, his eyesight had adjusted enough to where he could just barely see the outline of her body in front of him. He said her name softly, but she didn't respond. Her anxiety had increased, however, he could feel it. "Tin-Tin, answer me."

Still nothing. He leaned closer, trying to get a look at her face. He could tell her eyes were closed, and she was as still as a statue. "Tin-Tin, come on, say something."

Having failed to get a response yet again, Gordon reached out and placed one hand upon each of her arms. He shook her gently. "Tin-Tin."

Suddenly her eyes popped open. Her mouth moved, and something that could only be described as a squeak emerged. She began to fall backwards, but he caught her, pulling her around so that she was lying in his arms, the back of her head against his chest.

"Tin-Tin, what's wrong? What's happening?"

He could tell she was trying to say something, but whatever it was, she couldn't get anything out but vague squawks. He suddenly felt something wet on his hand. When he reached up to touch her cheek, he found it damp. She was crying.

"Tin-Tin, please, tell me what's happening. What do I do?"

At this point, Gordon had no idea if what she was going through was a side effect of the meditation they'd been doing for Kyrano, or whether it was something altogether unrelated. He began rocking her back and forth, holding her tightly as she began to seize.

"Jesus, Tin-Tin, what's wrong? What's wrong?"

06:56:11

"What is wrong, my niece?" boomed a low, evil voice.

The Hood, having placed his jet on autopilot, sat in the cockpit staring straight out of the window in front of him. A malicious smile had formed upon his lips.

"Answer me! I know you can hear me! Where are you?"

No! a voice cried out within his mind. No!

"You will tell me where you are!" he ordered, the glow from his eyes increasing steadily.

I...am...under...water! the voice responded. On...a...submarine!

"I see," The Hood said. "Interesting, Tin-Tin. Very interesting." He blessed the Demon Goddess for his good fortune. Out of the blue, as he was en route to New Guinea, he'd suddenly felt his half-niece's mind. She was connecting to her father, for a reason he hadn't cared to ascertain before he'd taken over her mind for himself.

Could it be possible? Could she be on the same submarine he was seeking in an attempt to destroy Acronym? He laughed long and low at the prospect. "Well, it seems as though I may be able to kill two birds with one stone. Or should I say...one torpedo."

06:58:51

Gordon struggled to hold her down, doing everything he could to keep her flailing arms and legs from hurting either of them. As it was, he was practically sitting on her as he straddled her body and protected her face from her own hands. The seizure lasted for at least two minutes, during which time Gordon also worked to keep her from choking on her tongue, as he knew often occurred in patients experiencing grand mals.

At last Tin-Tin gave one final, strangled cry before going limp beneath him. He shook her, calling out to her, begging her to wake up, but it was no use. No matter what he did, she wouldn't move. Her breathing and pulse were steady enough, but nothing he tried would work.

Not knowing what else to do, Gordon leaned against the wall, pulling her into a half-sitting position between his legs, her head resting on his shoulder, her back against his chest and stomach, her legs straight out in front of her. She whimpered once, and hope came back to him.

"Tin-Tin!" When she didn't answer, he said it again. "Tin-Tin!"

Still nothing. "God, what do I do?" he said. "I don't know anything about this stuff, I don't what to do! Tin-Tin!" he cried, pulling her tighter against him. "Please! Wake up! Wake up!"

But Tin-Tin would not be waking up any time soon.

06:59:58

06:59:59

07:00:00

 

Hour Eight

The following takes place between 7:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

07:00:24

"This is Mobile Control to International Rescue."

"Receiving you, Mobile Control. Go ahead."

"Your friend, the one who was driving The Mole, he's been taken to the hospital."

"F.A.B."

"Uh...what should we do about The Mole? And about Thunderbird 2, for that matter?"

John thought for a moment. That was a very good question, and he hadn't a clue. There wasn't anyone left on the eastern seaboard that knew how to operate either vehicle. "Hang on, Mobile Control. This is Thunderbird 5 calling Base."

"Here, John."

"Scott, what's going on back there?"

"Kyrano's had a heart attack we think, but he's holding his own. Dad and I just got him into Thunderbird 1. I'm taking him to Sydney, then I'm going back to Arlington to see about Virg."

"Oh, good, that'll solve the problem then."

"What problem?"

"Agent 53 reminded me that The Mole and Thunderbird 2 are just sitting there."

"Oh. I'd forgotten about them. All right, post a few agents around them as guards until I can get back there."

"F.A.B. And Scott...make sure you let me know how Virg is doing."

"I will, Johnny. I will."

07:05:05

Kyrano was strapped onto a foldout flat bed that had been secured to the floor in Thunderbird 1's cargo hold. Megan buckled herself into a nearby seat and said, "Okay, Scott, we're good to go back here."

"F.A.B. All systems are green. Beginning launch sequence."

Scott started the great rocket down its ramp. Slowly she inched lower and lower through the tunnel that would take her to her launch bay. When at last she reached the lower level, the platform upon which she sat moved into position beneath the swimming pool.

"Thunderbird 1, ready for take-off."

"F.A.B., Scott, you're clear to go."

"Thanks, Father."

"Scott..."

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Take care of Virgil for me, son."

Scott smiled slightly. "Don't worry, Father. I will."

He clicked the gears into place and the engines roared to life, smoke and flames billowing out from beneath as it lifted slowly into the air, slipping up past the opened pool and rising gracefully into the sky.

"Scott, it's Kyrano! He's having trouble here!"

"Hang on, Megan, I'm switching to horizontal."

"Scott--"

"Hang on, hang on..." Scott leveled the ship more quickly than usual, then said, "Okay, Megan, what's going on?"

"Hold on, I'm getting a look at him. He's having trouble breathing! Oh, God, he's stopped breathing! Am performing CPR!"

"Keep him going, Megan, keep him going! We'll be there in less than 25 minutes!"

Please don't die, Kyrano, Scott thought as he opened the Bird up to 7,500 miles per hour. Please hold on. Just hold on.

Then his mind drifted to Virgil. I'm coming, he thought. Wait for me, Virg. Be okay. Just be okay.

07:09:16

Ruth watched helplessly at the same window she'd seen Alan through not too long before. They'd wheeled Virgil past her so quickly; she'd barely gotten a glance at him. Now, as they lifted him from the gurney onto the operating table, her face went white and she grabbed at the railing in front of her.

"Dear God," she whispered.

For sticking up about seven inches out of Virgil's right leg was a triangular-shaped piece of glass. It was covered with blood, as was, it seemed, Virgil's entire body. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight.

A nurse cut away the uniform from his leg, leaving the tourniquet above the wound that Aaron and Al had applied in the field. Dr. Gray examined the affected area and whistled long and low. "This isn't gonna be easy," he said quietly. "Looks like the artery's been severed...tendons, ligaments...oh, boy."

He straightened and looked at the five nurses, who were working like busy bees, each at their own dedicated task. One was finishing the removal of Virgil's uniform; one was hooking him up to the monitor; one was laying out the surgical instruments; one was hooking up pints of blood for transfusions; and one was preparing to wipe him down, to enable Dr. Gray to determine the extent of all Virgil's injuries.

"All right, Team," Dr. Gray said, "we've got a member of International Rescue here. Let's save another life."

"Hear, hear!" "Have at it!" "You got it!" came the chorus of replies.

07:11:51

"Thunderbird 5 from Base."

"Thunderbird 5 here."

"John, were you able to tap into the scans I set Kyrano up with before...before his heart attack?"

"Yes, Father. Scan is still running, but so far all underwater vessels have checked out. I'll be hitting the grid near Base in a couple of minutes."

"All right, keep it running, son. I'm gonna check in with Brains that Thunderbird 4's ready for action."

"F.A.B."

"Come on, Penny," Jeff said, grabbing her hand and heading for the elevator.

"What are we going to do, Jeff?" she asked as the elevator made its descent.

"Well, how long has it been since you've been on a dive?"

"Last time I went diving was here with Gordon and Tin-Tin last June. What's the plan?"

"I don't really have one yet, Penny. All I know is that they might be on a submarine right here in our own back yard. And we have Thunderbird 4. I'm not just gonna sit around and wait for Canton's next move."

She smiled as they exited the elevator. "I would expect nothing less of you, Jeff Tracy."

07:13:16

Gordon jolted awake. It took a few minutes for him to remember where he was, and why there was a warm body against him. Somehow after he'd dozed off, he and Tin-Tin had moved position and were now lying on the floor. Her head rested on his shoulder, her breathing was steady and warm against his neck.

Jesus, if Alan could see this, he'd shoot me, he thought wryly. Aloud, he said, "Tin-Tin?"

She stirred against him and mumbled something incoherent. He said her name again as he extricated himself from her and sat up. But this time she didn't move.

"God, I have got to get us out of here!" he said, rising to his feet. His back ached, boy, did it ache. He stretched back and forth, to and fro, trying to ease the pain. But it didn't look like it would be going anywhere anytime soon. He made his way across the room and his ears began to fill up. Suddenly he realized what had awakened him in the first place.

"We're diving," he said. "We're going deeper." He jiggled the latch on the door. "If I could just figure us a way outta here."

07:15:59

"A-All right, uh, Dr. Godfrey, we've a-assembled the materials you requested."

"Thank you, Christopher."

"Christopher? That's your name? Why's everyone call you Brains?" Dr. Payne asked.

"Uh, well, it's a-a long story, uh, Doctor."

"You'll have to tell me some time," Payne replied. "Now, what about this formula? Do you really think the C-60 will remain stable enough to add the nitrozine?"

"There's only one way to find out," Godfrey said. "How 'bout that Reaction Chamber, Christopher?"

"Uh, yes, it's in the next room. Let's get the nitrozine and, uh, C-60 over there. Dr. Otayuki?"

"Yes?"

"I-I need you to work on the, uh, sterolite combination. Remember, it, uh, has to be just right in order to coagulate the, uh, mercurolite sufficiently. I-If it's so much as, uh, one milligram o-off, the outer shell of the device will, uh, continue to degrade a-as it moves through the a-atmosphere."

"Very well."

As Dr. Otayuki moved to a workbench at the far end of the room, Brains picked up the beaker of C-60 and Dr. Payne picked up the beaker of nitrozine.

"Dr. Godfrey, I-I think you should work on recreating the exact formula for UH-3 that you, uh, developed at Canton. We're, uh, going to have to have some to, uh, test this mixture on once we've, uh, successfully combined it."

"Right away. Where's your store of uranium?"

"O-Over there in the Radioactive Storage Room. You-You'll find, uh, radiation suits hanging just outside the, uh, sealed tank."

And so the scientists went to work. Brains only hoped they'd succeed in time to stop the deaths of millions of people.

07:20:47

Jeff and Penny had been standing near the entrance to the lab, listening to the scientists patter back and forth about what they were doing. Penny had been surprised to hear Dr. Godfrey's name for Brains.

"Jeff, what is the long story Brains is talking about? Why does the doctor call him Christopher?"

"Well, Penny, that's the name Brains uses to get patents and publish his work."

"I thought he used Hiram Hackenbacker as an alias."

"Sometimes he does. But the woman who cared for him at the orphanage gave him the name Christopher Braman. After they found him, and no one claimed him, they realized he'd need a name. Brains once told me that Natalie Stephens, the woman who practically raised him, named him Christopher after her late husband, and Braman because it was her maiden name."

"Ah. That explains his robot's name."

"Yes. I think he kind of did it as his way of paying homage to her."

"Whatever happened to this Natalie Stephens?"

"She disappeared when he was five or six, I think. He didn't find out what had happened to her until last year, when he decided to go digging for information. It turns out she died of an aneurysm in her room at the orphanage. He was never told she'd died, just that she'd gone away."

"Oh, that's sad. Hmm. Christopher. I like it. It suits him. Why do you not call him that?"

Jeff shrugged. "He prefers Brains. Even though Christopher Braman's the name he's gone by publicly ever since it was given to him, I don't think he identifies with it other than where his memories of Natalie are concerned."

Penny nodded thoughtfully as Jeff moved forward. Dr. Otayuki didn't even look up from his microscope as the pair headed for the next room.

"Ah, Brains, there you are."

"Y-Yes, Mr. Tracy."

"I need to talk to you about Thunderbird 4."

"Yes?"

"Penny and I are taking her out into the Pacific. I've no idea what's gonna happen out there, and I want to make sure she's ready for action."

Brains placed a test tube of C-60 into one of the robotic hands inside the Reaction Chamber, and then turned to face his benefactor. "Well, uh, Mr. Tracy, last check was two days ago, and e-everything was a green."

"Right. We'll go do the pre-launch so we're ready as soon as John finds that sub. Come on, Penny."

07:29:17

"We're five minutes out, Megan. How's Kyrano?"

"I got him breathing again, but he's not doing well. I've slipped him another nitro tablet. His pulse is still very weak. I'm actually surprised he's alive."

"I learned a long time ago never to underestimate Kyrano," Scott replied. "Thunderbird 1 to Base."

"Reading you, Scott."

"We'll be landing at the hospital in less than five minutes."

"How's Kyrano holding up?"

"He stopped breathing, but Megan got him going again."

"Okay. Listen, just to let you know, I'm doing pre-launch on Thunderbird 4. John's still trying to find any trace of an unidentifiable sub in the Pacific. Once he hits on it, we're going down there."

Scott frowned. It had been a while since his father had piloted Thunderbird 4. And Penny? "Are you sure about this, Father?"

"No. But I won't sit on my hands if there's a chance I can find them."

"As soon as we drop Kyrano at the hospital, I'm heading for Arlington."

"Have Megan stay with you. Whatever Brains and the others work out, we might just need someone else we can trust on the east coast."

"F.A.B. Landing now. I'll be in touch."

07:32:01

Parker had been sitting two hundred miles off the coast of Southern California for several hours now. He'd been in touch with John in Thunderbird 5, but hadn't heard from anyone else as yet. Just when he began to wonder if he'd be sitting there floating on the water in a pink Rolls Royce all day, an incoming transmission broke through his reverie.

"This h'is FAB One," he said, opening the channel.

"Ah, Parker, how are you?"

"Oh, m'lady, h'are you a sight for sore ones."

Penny smiled. "Is everything all right where you are?"

"Yes, m'lady. H'I've been sittin' off the coast for a bit o' time now, bobbin' h'up an' down like a toy. H'It's getting migh'y rough h'out 'ere."

"What do the weather satellites report?"

"Bad wevver a'ead, m'lady. H'I'm afraid h'it won't be getting h'any easier on me stomach."

"Poor dear. Parker, Jeff and I will be taking Thunderbird 4 out as soon as John locates a bogey."

Parker's eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. "A bogey, madam?"

Penny couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, Parker. I'm afraid that if you hang about with Americans long enough, you begin to pick up on their lingo."

"H'I'll say, m'lady. Wha' can I do?"

"Stay right where you are. If Gordon and Tin-Tin are aboard a submarine, and Canton discovers we're on to him, he may head your way. I want you to be ready at a moment's notice."

"Yes, m'lady. Goo' luck, m'lady."

"You, too, Parker. Lady Penelope out."

07:38:42

"Okay, the final diagnostics are running. How's Parker holding up?"

"I think he's a bit sea weary, Jeff. The weather satellites show a large storm headed his way and the water's a bit choppy."

"Poor guy. Is he in place?"

"Yes. I've warned him to be on alert in case Canton appears."

"Good. Let's get back up to the Lounge and see how things are going."

07:40:12

"Okay, Megan, you can ride up front here with me. There's a fold-down seat here."

"Thanks. I think I'd get too lonely back there all by myself."

"Kyrano...will he be okay?"

Megan nodded as she strapped herself in. "Yes, I think so. They were amazed he was still alive, but he seemed to be pretty stable for the moment."

"God, this is bad. He was our only link to Gordon and Tin-Tin. Now we're gonna have to rely on technology to find them." Scott fired Thunderbird 1's VTOL rocket and she rose vertically into the air. "Hang on, Megan. I'm gonna make this Bird fly like she's never flown before."

She nodded and gripped the edges of the seat tightly as Scott opened the throttle. "You seem very close to Virgil," she managed to say as the G-forces started pressing her back into the seat.

Scott swallowed the lump in his throat. His mind filled with images from their past...from when they were eight and five, and Virgil had fallen in a patch of mud on their grandparents' farm. It had been their last trip to see them before Lucy died. Virgil had just lain there crying, certain their mother would be angry with him for spoiling his clothes. Scott came to the rescue, picking him up out of the mess. Virgil had clung tightly to him, begging not to be taken back to the house.

A filthy little Virgil wound around Scott resulted in the older boy being covered from head to toe in mud himself. When he'd taken Virgil back to the house at last, they'd gone straight to their room, where Scott stripped his and Virgil's clothes off and got them both in the tub. By the time their mother realized what was going on, he and Virgil were both clean and redressed, and Scott had even taken the soiled clothes to the washer. Virgil had been so grateful for his brother's protection that he'd climbed up onto his lap, given him a sloppy kiss on the cheek and said, "I love you, Scotty."

Tears stung Scott's eyes as another memory surfaced. This time Scott had been climbing a tree on the farm. He'd been fourteen and Virgil, eleven. The limb he'd been sitting on was a dead branch, and his weight soon made it give way beneath him. He'd yelped as it broke, sending him falling nearly nine feet to the snow-covered ground below. Virgil, who'd been in an upstairs bedroom painting at the time, had seen it all from the window. Having had the wind knocked out of him, Scott couldn't even speak, and was sure he'd broken his ankle, which throbbed painfully.

He'd begun to panic, wondering if he was going to lie there and die in the cold snow with nobody the wiser. Until at last a face framed by the sun had appeared in his line of sight. At first he was convinced it was an angel come to take him away. But then he heard Virgil's voice frantically calling his name. Virgil stroked his hair and told him to stay calm, to let his lungs start working again. He stayed there with him until Scott was able to rise to a sitting position, and then helped him hobble back home.

It was only after he'd come back to his senses that he realized Virgil had been out there with him for nearly twenty minutes, in below-zero weather and kneeling in two-foot-deep snow with bare feet and wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off sweats and an undershirt.

He flashed forward to the mine rescue in Israel. Explosives had been accidentally detonated, causing the infrastructure of the mine to destabilize. A cave-in left eleven miners trapped. He and Virgil had brought all but one man to safety when a beam above Scott's head creaked and groaned. Virgil looked up, saw it was about to give way, and tackled Scott to the ground, completely covering him with his own body.

When the beam broke, chunks of rock and dirt rained down upon them. One hit Virgil square between his shoulder blades. If he had not been there, if he hadn't risked his life for his brother, that rock would've hit Scott's head. He would've been killed for sure. Virgil had saved his life.

As he had so very many times. Sure, Scott had returned the favor, but he never felt like he'd truly paid his brother back for everything he'd done. Vigil was his listener. He was the one Scott talked to. The only one he could open up to. If it weren't for Virgil, Scott didn't think he'd have made it this far. He didn't even want to try and think of doing this without him.

Megan watched him, brow furrowed. She knew he was remembering things about his comrade. Probably different things that had happened on rescues, she reasoned. She was surprised by the depth of emotion in his voice when next he spoke.

"I can't lose him," he said, his voice barely audible. "I can't lose him now."

07:50:52

While Ruth waited anxiously outside the operating room, Alan lay in a semi-private ICU bay. Accordion walls had been pulled around his bed. His hair was still singed and blackened, but most of his skin had been cleaned. A white sheet and a dark rose-pink blanket covered him. His arms lay atop the blanket along either side of his body. Monitors beeped and blipped the rhythm of his heart. The steady whoosh of the ventilator pumping oxygen into his lungs could be heard. An IV slowly dripped saline solution into his body. A second IV fed him nutrients and a third, a derivative of morphine to dull the pain should he awaken.

At the foot of the bed, where the two sides of the accordion wall met, there was an audible click. Then one side of the wall began to open, sliding along its metal tracks with only the slightest of scraping sounds. A tall man with light brown hair and dark chocolate eyes, dressed in a white lab coat, stole through the opening and then turned to quickly shut the accordion wall behind him. This accomplished, he walked to the side of the bed where the ventilator machine and heart monitor were positioned.

"Alan Tracy," the man said, his eyes cold and hard as he stared down at the figure below him. "It's been a long time. A very long time."

He reached over and flipped a switch on the monitor. It powered down, the screen going dark, the beeps stopping. "There, now. We don't want any alarms going off, do we, Alan? You remember me, don't you? Bonneville Flats, 2023? You know who I am."

The man's hand reached over to the ventilator and hovered above the power button. "Frank Jacobs. Remember? You jacked me but good that day, you shit. Now somebody's given me a lotta good reasons to take my revenge." He looked thoughtfully at the helpless man lying in bed. "I just wanted to make sure. I wanted to make sure you knew who killed you."

And with that, he hit the power button. Jacobs exited the accordion wall in smug satisfaction as he heard the machine hissing to a halt behind him. Turning for one last look, he smiled. "Goodbye, Alan Tracy."

07:54:24

Ruth finally forced herself to look through the window again. The nurses and Dr. Gray were running around like mad hens shouting at one another. She pressed the intercom button so she could hear what they were saying.

"...losing him! Blood pressure's down, get it back up! Get it back up!"

"We need to seal that artery, now! Re-route using anterior femoralis! Clamps!"

"Here, Doctor," a nurse said as she handed him two small metal clips. "What are you going to do?"

"I think I can stretch the tunica adventitia enough to reach the anterior artery. I should be able to graft it on if I cut through just right into the anterior's endothelium. Scalpel!"

Ruth's head was spinning. She had no idea what the hell they were saying in there. But it was clear that Virgil was in trouble.

"He's dropping, Doctor! I can't get the blood into him fast enough!"

"You are not going to die!" Dr. Gray nearly bellowed as he worked to reattach Virgil's severed artery. "Nurse, irrigation!"

"Got it!" The nurse came over with a tiny combination vacuum tube and began spraying a small amount of water in and sucking the fluid out of the wound.

Ruth turned, her stomach flopping, and leaned back against the window. It was then that she noticed a rather tall man in a white lab coat walking her way. She frowned as she stood up straight. That man looked familiar to her. Very familiar. He kept coming toward her, and then went on by without even glancing her way. She walked out into the middle of the hall and watched him reach the end of it and disappear into a stairwell.

"I know that man," she said aloud, wracking her brain. "I'm sure I do." Several minutes went by. She could hear the doctor and nurses still yelling inside the OR, but something about that man...it just niggled at the back of her brain and refused to let go. Where had she seen him? It had to do with one of her grandsons. It had to do with what...boats? No. Cars? Cars...

And then it dawned on her.

"Oh, my God!" she gasped, turning and running the other way. "Alan!"

07:58:58

Alan's body began to tremble. A gagging, coughing sound escaped his throat as his chest heaved, as his body struggled to find oxygen, struggled to breathe. His arms and legs jerked, his head thrashing to and fro on the pillow. His esophagus and windpipe went into spasms in a violent attempt to expel the breathing tube from his throat.

At last his body gave up. His fight to live ceased. He flopped on the bed every few seconds, much like a fish removed from water. His lips began to turn blue. At the last moment, as his heart seized and his brain began to shut down, his clear blue eyes opened wide. A single tear escaped and ran down his temple.

And then his eyes fluttered closed.

07:59:58

07:59:59

08:00:00

 

Hour Nine

The following takes place between 8:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. on the day Washington, D.C. was destroyed.

08:00:10

There was nothing but darkness. No matter which way she looked, her eyes picked up no trace of light. She couldn't even tell if she was standing or floating or lying down or what. She felt perfectly fine, as though she hadn't a care in the world. How had she come to be in this place? Where was this place?

"My daughter."

"Father?" A gray glow arose before her, a caricature of sunrise, casting shadows across her face. She watched as a figure approached. When it came into full view, she recognized it immediately. "Father!" Tin-Tin raced forward to meet him...again, unable to tell if she were actually running or just flying.

Kyrano held her tightly, kissing the top of her head as she nestled into his arms. "My child. I am so happy you are here."

She pulled back a bit and looked into his eyes. "Where are we, Father?"

"We are in the middle of time and space."

"I don't understand."

Kyrano seated himself on a large pillow that suddenly appeared. Tin-Tin couldn't even see the floor it was sitting on. He reached down and patted a second pillow that appeared directly in front of him. "Come, Daughter. Sit with me."

She lowered herself to the pillow, her legs crossed Indian-style.

"This is the Great Void, Tin-Tin," he began to explain. "It is within this special place that spans the whole of all that is and is not where minds may meet."

"Are we projecting?"

"That is one way of looking at it, yes. In reality, I am lying in a hospital bed."

"A hospital bed? Why?"

"I am afraid that I was attacked by The Hood again. My body was unable to withstand the assault. It was the worst attack ever. And so my heart seized."

"Father!" she cried, her hands reaching out to grab his. "We're not--I mean, are we--we're not dead, are we?"

"No, no, calm yourself, my child. We both live still."

"If you're lying in a hospital bed, I mean, if you're ill back there on Earth...what about me? Why am I here?"

"I do not know for certain. What is the last you remember?"

Tin-Tin thought hard. She was finding it difficult to get past where she was right now, difficult to recall anything other than waking up here in the dark.

Sensing her confusion, Kyrano said, "You and Gordon are being held hostage aboard a submarine."

Those words brought everything flooding back to her. "Oh, Father!" she exclaimed, eyes filling with tears. "We were meditating. Gordon and I, we were meditating for you. I felt your heartbeat slowing! We were trying...we were trying to keep you going, trying to save you!"

"Ah, yes. I felt a presence. I felt it faintly, but I knew someone was with me. Thank you, my daughter. I believe you and Gordon have saved my life."

The two hugged fiercely and then parted, hands holding tight to one another's. "But I don't know what happened. I remember reaching that plane, Father, the one you always spoke of. The one I could never reach on my own before today. I found Gordon. I found his mind. I could hear him, and I know he could hear me."

Kyrano nodded and smiled. He had always known that one day Tin-Tin would come into her own where her abilities were concerned. It seemed that day had come. "What happened next?"

"I-I felt something...no, someone. They were evil, Father! They were so evil! They invaded my thoughts, they took my mind...they took my mind...oh, God!" She launched into his arms again, sobbing as the agony of the experience washed over her anew. "He took my mind!" she wailed.

Kyrano's face hardened. It couldn't be. He wouldn't have done that. Would he? "Was it...was it your half-uncle, Tin-Tin?"

She sat up straight, looking wildly into his eyes. "Oh, my God. Yes. Yes, it was him! I know that now. I didn't know it then, but you're right, it was! I told him...Father, he made me tell him!"

"Tell him what?"

"Where we were. Where I was. He knows we're on the sub! He's coming to find us! Oh, my God, oh, my God."

"Calm, Tin-Tin. Relax. Do you remember anything else?"

Tin-Tin closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. She thought and thought, desperately trying to recover those terrible moments, and what had happened after. Finally, she nodded her head and looked into her father's eyes.

"I lost consciousness. I could feel myself floating above my body. Gordon...Gordon was frantic. I--I was having seizures. After that, I don't remember anything else. Oh, Father, what are we going to do?"

"We must find a way to contact Mr. Tracy."

"But how? How can we do that from this place?"

"I do not know for certain that we can. But we must try."

08:16:40

Ruth barged into the ICU, tearing the accordion walls surrounding Alan's bed away with the strength of ten women half her age. "Alan!" she cried when she saw him. She slammed her hand into the alarm button on the wall next to his bed, then ran around to the other side and took in the state of the ventilator and heart monitor. "Alan, come on, breathe! Breathe!"

Within seconds, a male nurse came running in, followed by a female nurse. "What is it?" he asked.

"He's stopped breathing, the machines were turned off!"

"What?!?" The male nurse ran for the intercom. "ICU, Bed 4, Code Blue, stat!"

Ruth heard alarms ring as the nurse gently pulled the tube out of Alan's throat. "Do something!" she cried. Then she turned to the female nurse and said, "Close this place down! I know who did it! He might still be here!"

She nodded and ran out of the room to the nurse's station with Ruth hot on her heels. Hitting the switch for Security, she yelled, "Immediate lockdown! Seal all exits now!" She turned to Ruth and asked, "Who is he?"

"Frank Jacobs, a man that raced once with Alan several years ago. During some test runs, Alan lost a wheel and smashed into his car. Jacobs was laid up for nearly a year and he's never forgiven Alan."

"Ma'am, what's he look like?"

"He's about six feet tall, early thirties, light brown hair, dark brown eyes...he was wearing a white lab coat."

The nurse repeated her description into the microphone while Ruth headed for the staircase she'd seen Jacobs take.

"What's happened?" came the Security Chief's voice over the phone. "Why are we after this guy?"

"He just tried to kill a patient!"

08:20:22

"Thunderbird 1 to Base."

"What is it, Scott?"

"I can't raise Grandma. She's not answering her com."

"Have John get in touch with the hospital and find out what's going on."

Just at that moment, John's voice broke through. "Thunderbird 1 and Base from Thunderbird 5!"

"Strength 5, go ahead."

"Scott! It's the hospital in Arlington! They've just gone into Lockdown!"

"What?" Jeff bellowed. "What happened?"

"They're saying something about a man who just tried to kill a patient in ICU! No...oh, God...it was Alan!"

"Oh, my God!" Scott cried. "Why would someone try to kill him!?!"

"Dammit! John, what's his condition?"

"I don't know, I'm trying to get through to 'em now, but they're not responding. Everything's a mess down there between the D.C. victims and now this."

"It can only mean one thing," Scott said, his hands tightening around Thunderbird 1's controls. "Canton must know he's there. He must've either gone there himself or sent someone."

"Open it up, Scott. Get there as fast as you can. If he knows Alan's there, he'll soon find out about Virgil. John, get hold of Mobile Control and see if you can't arrange for agents to be posted with them. When you get the hospital on the line, tell them exactly who's coming so they'll let them in."

"F.A.B.!"

"And John? I want them armed."

Megan just sat wide-eyed listening to the exchange. After what Scott had said earlier, she sensed his bond with Virgil went beyond camaraderie. Now, hearing the frantic tones used by John, Jeff and Scott, she began to truly wonder about International Rescue. They seemed like more than just an organization. They almost seemed like...family.

"Hold tight, Meg," Scott said, barely realizing he'd shortened her name. "We're going to ten thousand."

She nodded and closed her eyes as she felt the pressure on her body increase. God, was this nightmare ever going to end?