MASERATI by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

Sometimes even rich guys win prizes.

"Thunderbird Five to Scott Tracy."

Scott took a moment to wipe his hands on a shop towel before lifting his communicator and answering. "John. What's up?"

Scott's brother looked a bit apprehensive as he asked quietly, "Are you alone?"

Tension immediately tightened Scott's spine. "Yes. What's wrong?"

"I had a call from Gordon last night. He had this letter that he wanted me to translate for him."

"Translate?"

"Yeah, it was in Italian."

Confused, Scott asked, "Why didn't he just use that universal translator program of Brains'?"

"He said he did. He wanted me to translate it because he thought the program had gotten it wrong."

"Did it?"

"Get it wrong? No. It didn't." John's voice trailed away, as the blond Tracy brother stared off lost in thought.

Scott waited a few moments then prompted. "John? Was there something you needed to tell me?"

John started then slowly shaking his head replied, "Scott, it seems Gordon has won a Maserati."

Scott's eyebrows climbed high on his forehead. "What?"

Sighing John replied, "You heard me. He won a Maserati."

"The car?"

"Yes."

Scott started to chuckle, "Johnny, you've been had."

"Let me tell you, if this is a prank, he deserves a prize. He calls me up, says he has this letter. I had him transmit it, and it's on Maserati corporate letterhead and it says he's won this brand new Maserati Spyder. I told him I wasn't buying it, and he said he wasn't either. He said he figured it was a scam of some kind. Well, I figured the only scamming going on was Gordon, right? I mean, if it was legit, why would they send an American a letter in Italian, for God's sake? So I told him I'll check it out. He points out this phone number on the letter, and I figured it was some buddy of his, you know?"

Scott nodded listening attentively as his brother continued. "So instead of calling that number, I got the corporate headquarters number and I called them direct. I told them about the letter, and next thing I know, they've connected me with this vice president of public relations, and he says it's true. Gordon won this car. Well, once I picked my jaw up off the ground, I told him that Gordon had not entered any contests. The guy tells me that they had used some computer database to find sons and daughters of the wealthiest men in the world, put them all in a pool and pulled out five names. They want their cars to be seen in the 'right' circles."

"Wait a minute. Are you sure you got to Maserati headquarters? I mean, you've got to admit, John, this smacks of Gordon."

"I know, I know, but I checked and double checked. I was talking to Maserati. I verified this guy's credentials through three different sources. I even had him transmit the location of the database they used. It's legit, Scott."

"Are you telling me I was three slots away from owning a Maserati?"

"No, I'm not telling you that at all. You're not going to believe this. The database limited the pool only to those between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. You, Virgil and I are apparently too old."

"This has got to be a trick."

"Or a bad dream."

Scott shook his head. "What did he say when you told him it was legitimate?"

"I haven't told him yet. I wanted to talk to you, first. Scott, Dad is going to flip when he hears this."

Scott thought about it and realized John was right. His father had very definite ideas about his sons achieving things on their own merits. The idea that Gordon would be given an expensive car simply because he was Jeff Tracy's son would not sit well with the former astronaut.

"Yeah, he'll probably say no way."

"Yes, and you know Gordon. If he's won it, he's going to want it."

"Hell, I want it. But you're right. This is going to cause some friction."

"Friction isn't the word I'd use. Especially when Alan hears about it."

Scott ran his hand through his hair. "God."

"Yeah. And you know how Gordon can be. I wouldn't put it past him to have the damn thing delivered to the island and use it to get from one side of the hangar to the other." John watched as his older brother thought. "So what are we going to do, Scott?"

Scott sighed. "I don't suppose you could lie and tell him it was a practical joke?"

John grimaced. "No, I don't suppose I could."

"Didn't think so. Okay, you might as well bite the bullet and tell him. No, wait. I'll tell you what, wait until lunch time, all right? I'd rather we got it over with all at the same time."

John let his breath out in a whoosh. "Okay, if you think so. You gonna forewarn Virgil?"

Scott leaned his head back. "Naw. Let him live in bliss for another hour. God knows it's going to be like hell around here soon enough."

Scott finished his second sandwich and wondered what was taking John so long to call. He had surreptitiously been watching his red haired brother, but the younger man had shown no signs of anticipation. Scott had to admit, if this car thing was a practical joke, Gordon didn't seem to be in on it.

When John finally buzzed Gordon's wristcomm, Scott jumped about a foot, bringing a curious look from his brother Virgil.

Gordon hurriedly swallowed his food and lifted the wristcomm to his face. "Hey John! What's the good word?"

"It's legit."

Gordon simply nodded. "Uh-huh. Okay. Anything else?"

There was a pause before John answered. "Gordon, you won. I checked it out, and you did actually win."

"Yeah, right, John. And all I have to do is send all of my savings to a post office box in Nigeria."

"No, I'm serious. I called the corporate headquarters and confirmed it with the head of their PR department."

"Never try to kid a kidder, bro. I'm not falling for it, so you might as well give it up."

Alan asked curiously, "What's he talking about?"

Gordon shook his head, "I got this fake letter saying I won a Maserati."

"A Maserati?" Alan squeaked.

"Gordon, I'm telling you, it's not a fake. You did win a Maserati."

"A Maserati?" Alan seemed to be having problems with the concept.

"Yeah, a Maserati. And Buckingham Palace and the Brooklyn Bridge, too."

"What color?" Virgil asked with a smile.

"I'm thinking I'll go with the puce, whaddaya think?"

"I dunno. A nice magenta would look good. Maybe viridian. What do you think, Scott?"

Scott sat back. He had hoped to remain out of the discussion. "I think you should listen to John, Gordon. He checked it out, and it's for real."

Gordon shot Scott a disbelieving look and opened his mouth to say something, but Jeff beat him to it. "Scott, John, what is this all about?"

Scott remained quiet and after a moment, John spoke up. "Gordon got a letter informing him he won a car, and I checked it out with the corporate headquarters, and they told me it was legitimate."

Jeff turned his attention to Gordon. "Son, did you enter a contest?"

Gordon shook his head. "No sir, I did not."

"No, Dad, he didn't enter a contest. The PR guy at Maserati said they used a database to determine who their most likely customers would be and they pulled five names at random and Gordon was one of them."

Virgil spoke up. "That doesn't make sense, John. What kind of profile would include a guy that lives on a private island?"

"Exactly!" Gordon seized on the point.

"Yellow." Alan spoke up from his daze. "Maseratis are yellow."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Keep up, Al. It doesn't make any sense to give away free cars, especially cars as expensive as a Maserati."

Scott had a sudden thought. "You're right, Gordon. So, can I have it?"

Gordon sat back, blinking. "You really believe him, don't you?"

"No, not at all. So, can I have it?"

Gordon frowned. "Uh, let me think about it."

Jeff spoke again. "John, I am unclear on this database thing. Why would Gordon be in any database that a car company could access? Did they get information from WASP?"

John sighed. "No, father, they got it from World Fortune 500."

"Oh, right. So now I have a fortune nobody's told me about?"

"Don't be an idiot. It's Dad's fortune that got you on the list."

"What do you mean, son?" Jeff's brows knitted together in a frown.

"Okay. The guy from Maserati told me that they wanted to shift their demographics to a younger generation. They got Gordon's name as the son of a wealthy man, and that's why he was entered into the contest."

Gordon slowly smiled as he started to believe what his brother was telling him. "So this isn't a trick? I really won a Maserati?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Hold up a minute, son. John, am I to understand there is a database out there that not only lists my name but all of your names as well?"

"Yes sir. It's not really all that surprising, is it?"

"No, I suppose not."

"I wonder if it comes in orange."

"Orange? Gordon, it needs to be yellow! Maseratis should be yellow!" Alan cried, a look of horror on his face.

Gordon barely seemed to notice. "Doesn't really matter. I can always have it painted." He turned to his younger brother. "Al, they come with automatic transmission, right?"

Virgil started to snicker at Alan's scandalized expression. Scott sighed. It had started already.

"Son, I want you to think very carefully about this. I'm not sure it would be appropriate to accept this car."

Gordon was instantly on his guard. "What do you mean, Dad?"

Jeff shook his head. "These people selected you for a specific reason. They believe they can increase their sales by having their cars seen by those most able to afford them. They obviously believe you are the playboy son of a wealthy man. They expect you to be driving around in the company of other wealthy playboys. But son, you and I know you are no playboy. You would be accepting that car under false pretenses."

"Dad, I can't be responsible for their expectations. Maybe if I take the car, they'll figure out they shouldn't have us in their database. And even if they don't, why should I be responsible for their error in judgement?"

"Son, if you want a Maserati that badly, you only need to tell me and I'll get you one." Jeff's statement brought stares of amazement from all four sons present.

"Uh, Dad?" Virgil was the first to speak up. "I really really want a Maserati."

"Me too! A yellow one!" Alan said, grinning.

Jeff looked over to Scott. "Well, aren't you going to jump on the bandwagon?"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a Ferrari. A red one."

"Ooo! I want one of those!" John's voice seemed to come from thin air.

"All right, boys, that's enough. Gordon, I want you to think about this. If you really want to accept that car, I won't stop you. But I want you to consider it carefully before you decide."

"I will, Father."

"That's all I ask. Now, what have you boys got going on this afternoon?"

The family turned their minds to other matters, and Scott heaved a sigh of relief.

Late in the evening, when the family had retired, an overseas phone call was placed.

"Paolo! How are you?"

"Sono benissimo, grazie. Did it work?"

"Oh yeah, I've got them on the ropes. It was great."

"You know, your brother, he called me. He's a nice guy. Onesto, realmente diretto. How you say? A straight shooter. I liked him."

"Yeah, I know. That's what makes this so great. Once you convinced John, everybody fell for it. I told Alan I was going to paint it orange. You should have seen the look on his face."

"Caro Dio! Siete un diavolo! Gordon, do not even joke about such a thing!"

"Yeah, that's the look Alan had!"

"You will not believe what has happened. I presented your idea to la mia sporgenza, uh, my boss. He loved it, and we really are going to give away five cars. I can arrange for you to win one for real?"

"Hey, don't tempt me. It's enough for me to drive Alan nuts."

"You know, it took me less than a month in training to understand that crossing you was dangerous. It does not speak so well for your brother that he had not learned that in all the years you were growing up."

"Yeah, well, he'll figure it out eventually. He shouldn't have messed with my stuff, but he did and now he is paying the price. You're sure this isn't going to cause you any problems at work, right? We can stop right now if you want. Like I said, I've got them all on the ropes already and it's just a matter of twisting the knife a little bit and then I'm done."

"No, no, my friend. This will not cause me any problems."

"You're sure?"

"Positivo. Unlike when we were with WASP, I have a lot of uh, leeway. Now, shall I ship the car? I have set it up as a rental. You can keep it for six months and no one will question it."

"Actually, I don't think so. I don't really want to overplay my hand, you know? I think I'll just say I refused the car. It'll drive him crazy."

"Il mio amico, who would believe such a story? No one in their right mind would turn down a Maserati! It is the finest car in the world!"

"Whoa! Calm down, Paolo! It'll work out, believe me. Look, I've got to go. Thanks for helping me out here, buddy. I really appreciate it."

"For you, Gordon, I will do anything. Let me know how it all turns out."

"I will. Say hello to the wife for me."

"Hah! That I will not do! Ingrid always liked you better."

"I only wish! I'll talk to you soon."

"Arrivederci, il mio amico!"