WITH THE BEST INTENTIONS by JULES RATED FRPT

When you're least expecting it, your past can come back to haunt you. Things can go so wrong as to be deadly. Even with the best intentions.

Testing Time

Gordon wrinkled up his nose in irritation as the motor racing car sped passed him with a screech of acceleration, laying down rubber and belching exhaust as it went. On the whole, being beneath the waves was a lot quieter and a lot less smelly but he wasn't about to miss the opportunity of supporting his little brother this weekend.

Gordon, balanced on the pit wall, looked over towards Alan who was dressed in racing overalls and had his head under the hood of a very fine racing machine. Gordon couldn't help but let a brief smile reach his face. Alan was in his element, happy and in control, and had spent most of that day with a grin spreading from ear to ear. It was a joy to behold.

Alan had been invited to take part in an exhibition racing weekend in the US. Many of his colleagues from his motor racing days were to be there and Alan was to take part in a veteran's race on the Sunday. The race would consist of the cream of former professional racing drivers. As Alan had retired from the world of motor racing at a ridiculously early age due to his commitments with International Rescue, he would be competing against drivers 20 years older than him. He had been looking forward to whipping the asses of some of the "granddads" as he called them.

Jeff Tracy had given his youngest son permission to have a weekend's shore leave to attend the race meeting. There had been a discussion of someone going with Alan as support. Tin Tin had been keen but Jeff had picked Gordon. It was unusual for Jeff to allow two of his sons leave at one time but there had been two physically hard rescues the previous week and he had noticed Gordon walking a little stiffly around Tracy Island, favouring his back when he thought no-one was noticing. The odds made it likely of there being no rescues for a while and Jeff had thought it might be good for Gordon to have a short holiday.

Which was why Gordon was sitting on the pit wall of the Long Beach Circuit feeling a touch superfluous but also relaxed as, for once, he was in a situation where his opinion was not being called for. He could stretch his back and work out the knots without 8 anxious pairs of eyes watching his every move and for that he was grateful. Alan felt his brother's eyes upon him and lifted his head to tip him a wink. After a couple more fiddles with the engine he slapped his engineer on the back and then walked over to Gordon.

"You're not too bored, are you?"

"No, it's fine." Alan shot Gordon a look and Gordon chuckled.

"I guess it wouldn't have been any fun you watching me plough up and down the pool 12 hours a day when I was training. It's okay, though, there's a lot going on. When do you get to take the car out?"

"We've got slot at 2.15 this afternoon to try her out. It's looking good."

"So where are all those pit chicks you promised me?" asked Gordon. Alan laughed.

"First we work, then we play. You'll have to wait until this evening. Anyway, I don't know what you think you're going to do with a pit chick with that back of yours."

Gordon looked affronted at this remark. "Where there's a will there's a way, little brother. A little massage would do it the world of good."

Alan snickered rudely and then his attention was distracted. "Let's go grab some lunch. You know what they have to eat here?"

"What?"

"Junk food!"

Gordon swooned happily. "Burgers? Fries?"

"Oh yes. All the stuff Kyrano and Grandma won't let us have."

"Let's eat ourselves sick!" pronounced Gordon leaping off the wall and instantly regretting it as he felt a pain shoot up his vertebrae. Alan pretended not to notice and indicated the way to the food truck.

A Short Brake

That afternoon Gordon hovered around the garage trying not to get in the way. Despite his lack of knowledge about car engines he was interested to observe what went on and amused to see his squirt of a little brother being feted and adored by technicians and fans alike. Gordon had had his own fan base when he had been swimming and racing hydrofoils. The one down side to International Rescue was not being able to receive fan mail as it would have been a security risk. He missed those panties in the mail brightening his day.

The preparation for Alan's practice and qualifying laps was meticulous and Gordon was impressed by the attention to detail displayed by the whole team. At 2pm the team huddled in the office at back of the garage discussing the tactics. Alan sounded so confident he was like a junior Scott and Gordon had to hide a smile. Then he walked with Alan over to the car and watched him pull on his helmet and gloves and settle himself inside. The two brothers exchanged a thumbs up and Alan pulled off down the pit lane.

As the car moved away from him alarm bells suddenly started going off in Gordon's head. For a few seconds he struggled to work out what had spooked him. Then he quickly lifted his wrist comm and hit a couple of buttons to attract Alan's attention with an emergency call.

Alan, cruising down the pit lane, thrilled at the way the car felt, was tempted to ignore Gordon's call but noted the emergency signal and pulled over, pulling up his visor.

"What is it?" he asked tetchily.

"Back up, I think there's something wrong with the car."

"I can't back up the pit lane, it's against the rules," replied Alan crossly.

"Well, hold on, I'll come down to you."

"Fine." Alan hit the steering wheel with frustration. If he didn't get out on the track in the next couple of minutes he'd lose his practice laps slot. Whatever Gordon wanted it had better be good. In International Rescue the brothers had learnt to trust each other implicitly and it was only this that stopped Alan from ignoring Gordon and heading out onto the track. He got out of the car as Gordon jogged up. He pulled off his helmet and heat resistant balaclava so Gordon got the full benefit of his irritated expression. Gordon ignored this and made a flipping motion with his hand.

"Get the hood up."

Alan felt under the rim of the hood and pulled it up as instructed.

"Well?"

"Well, you know this car better than me. Anything wrong?"

Alan sighed and, humouring his brother, he propped up the hood and started to rummage. Gordon watched Alan. Alan's expression suddenly changed from irritation to shock.

"Shit," he stated.

"What?"

Alan indicated a cable. The cable ran thickly for a while until where it flopped almost into two halves.

"This," said Alan, remarkably calmly, "is my brake cable."

"Should it have a cut in it like that?"

"No, Gordon, it shouldn't. It's almost sliced through. Best case scenario I would have had wobbly braking and wouldn't have been able to complete the lap."

"Worst case?"

"It probably would have sheered in two after a couple of corners and next time I tried to brake, I would have hit the wall at 150 miles an hour instead."

"Shit," repeated Gordon.

"How the hell did you know something was wrong?"

Gordon had to almost literally shake himself out of his sense of shock to answer the question.

"When I was watching you guys earlier I noticed that virtually anyone who touched the car had gloves on. The tiniest mark on the car, the smallest bit of grease and someone would wipe it off immediately. Before the team talk the car was spotless. As you pulled away just now I noticed a smudge of oil on the side of the hood. It just struck me as odd." He pointed to the offending mark. Alan looked at it and then looked Gordon straight in the eyes. He stuck out his hand.

"Thanks, Gordon," he said sincerely. Gordon suddenly looked bashful but shook the proffered hand. Alan then took a big breath of air and was all business again.

"I'd better get a tow back to the garage if we're going to get this car racing."

Bad Day, Good Day

After Alan had informed his team of the trouble the decision was made to continue with the weekend but with increased security around the car. Gordon had suggested quietly to Alan that they should inform their father. Alan had quickly dismissed the idea pointing out that their Dad would order them back to the Island before he had got a chance to race. Gordon could see how much this weekend meant to Alan and decided not to push it, just concentrating instead on keeping a more critical eye on the goings-on in the pit lane and not letting Alan out of his sight.

By the evening he felt more relaxed. There had been no more unexpected surprises and Alan had performed brilliantly in the car, qualifying near the top of the grid. The team knew how to work hard but they also knew how to play hard and by early evening they had all headed for the hospitality area. Alan and Gordon made up royally for the weeks self-imposed good behaviour and drank and partied with enthusiasm. The next morning they had a short jog together to get rid of their hangovers and then it was back to the racing.

The race went perfectly. Alan excelled himself in the car and after a few cautious laps let rip with some inspired talent. He beat his closest rival by a couple of seconds and was soon atop the podium waving his cup to the assembled crowd. Gordon felt as proud of his little brother as he ever had. The two of them then celebrated with the team, gulping down a couple of glasses of champagne until the sound of duty began to call and Gordon pointed out to Alan that they would soon have to leave to be back home for dinner as agreed with their father. Alan resisted to start off with but from bitter experience knew that to cross his father now would jeopardise further racing weekends so reluctantly the two said their goodbyes and headed for the airport.

Homecoming

Gordon conceded the pilot seat to Alan and shifted about in the co-pilot's chair trying to get comfortable. He might get Tin Tin to work some of her wonders on his back later since Alan was in such a good mood and unlikely to get a fit of the green-eyed monster. As they approached Tracy Island Gordon felt he had to risk spoiling Alan's cheerfulness by mentioning the Saturday incident.

"So, are we gonna tell Dad about the brake cable?"

Alan didn't reply immediately. He twisted his head thoughtfully from side to side for a moment. When he spoke he looked unnecessarily at the plane's instruments rather than Gordon.

"I know we should but...hey, no harm done, right? We didn't have any problem after the first one. If we tell Dad...he might...well, he might not be so keen to let me go on another weekend like that." Now Alan turned to Gordon and Gordon caught the plea in his eyes." I had a blast, Gordo. I need to do that once in a while. I promise in the future that I'll be way more careful with security, okay?"

Now it was Gordon's turn to think. He and Alan were pretty low down the Tracy Island family food chain and he knew what Alan meant about needing to get the chance to be the boss once in a while.

"Okay, squirt."

"Thanks." With renewed enthusiasm Alan turned to the comms unit. "Alan Tracy to Tracy Island. Come in, please."

"Reading you loud and clear, son. Congratulations, we saw the race on television. You did an excellent job."

"Thanks, Father. Requesting permission to land."

"Permission granted. Light winds, good visibility and Virgil swept the runway this morning. See you in a few minutes." Gordon and Alan shared an amused smile.

"Gee, Al, sure wish I could have been a fly on the wall today with Virgil being the youngest in the house and having to do all the cruddy jobs."

"I bet he was pissed." The two started to laugh and only calmed down as Alan swung the plane into final approach. He landed the plane with a gentle bump on the runway and taxied towards the hangar. Tracy Island etiquette decreed that as soon as you landed a plane you put it in the hangar and refuelled it, ready for the next trip. No leaving it around on the runway like an abandoned sock. Gordon was just offering to leap out and operate the hangar door when the comms spluttered back into life.

"Alan?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Don't put her in the hangar. I want you two up to the lounge now. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," replied Alan formally acknowledging the order. In confusion at the change in his father's tone he turned to Gordon.

"What did we do?"

"Beats me. Let's go."

A couple of minutes later the two walked into the lounge. They were met by Scott, Virgil and their Father all looking very serious. Alan stared round at them. This was not the welcome he had expected. There was silence for a few seconds and then Scott stepped forward, hand outstretched.

"Well done, Al, that was an incredible drive," he said quietly. Alan shook his brother's hand and smiled cautiously back. He had expected a touch more enthusiasm.

"Thanks, Scott."

Then Virgil's face suddenly broke into a grin. He walked up to Alan and clapped him so hard on the back that Alan almost lost his balance.

"Brilliant. You haven't lost it, have you?"

Alan turned to his father but Jeff Tracy did not smile. Instead he picked up a remote and pointed it at the television.

"Maybe you two would like to explain to me exactly why you haven't told us about this." The television showed a newscast that had obviously been recorded from a few minutes earlier as Alan was landing the plane. Ned Cook was doing a piece to camera, full of his usual drama.

"You join me back at Long Beach where we have had a thrilling day of motor racing action. And now, sensational news has reached us from the pits. Alan Tracy, former World Motor Racing Champion, diced with death yesterday. Tracy, who only a few hours ago scored a convincing victory in the Veteran's Race, was part of a different sort of drama when he discovered that his brake cable had been sabotaged as he started on his practice out-lap. Fortunately, the situation was spotted before Tracy reached top speed which, as you know, can be as high as 200 miles an hour on this circuit. If the brake cable had not been discovered then tragedy could have marred this weekend as we would have been mourning the loss of one of our top racing drivers. I have been trying to track Tracy down for an interview but, as usual, he is being elusive. Back to the studio."

Jeff pressed a button and the newscast fizzled away. The elusive Alan Tracy raised his eyes to the ceiling briefly cursing the gods. Someone in his team had obviously leaked the information that they had agreed to keep quiet. Reluctantly, Alan looked back at his father and saw the anger blazing there.

"Well, Alan?"

"Dad, you know what Ned Cook is like. He completely sensationalised it. I was never in any danger. We spotted the fault and it was fixed."

"But someone cut the cable? It wasn't just a part failure?" Jeff had to be sure.

"Well, yes, it was deliberate," replied Alan, wishing he could lie but knowing he couldn't.

"Someone tried to kill you?" This quiet question was from Virgil who was obviously trying to get his head around the idea of someone trying to hurt his baby brother.

"What if you hadn't noticed the problem?" This from Scott, which Alan ignored.

"We stepped up security on the car. It was probably someone's idea of a joke."

"A joke? I don't think so," said Jeff finding his voice at last. "When were you going to tell us?"

"It wasn't important. I won the race didn't I?"

"I can almost understand you not saying anything," continued Jeff, "but Gordon, I am disappointed that you didn't say something or didn't bring Alan home at the first sign of trouble."

Alan could hold his temper no longer. "Don't you dare go after Gordon, Father, he was the one that saved my life." As soon as the words were out of his mouth Alan regretted them as they completely contradicted what he had said earlier about not being in danger. But Alan could not let Gordon take any of the blame. Behind him Scott and Virgil exchanged one of their looks. Alan couldn't hold back now. "Gordon was there supporting me every step of the way and congratulating me when I won, that's what matters." The implication that no-one else had been supporting him came across loud and clear. Jeff looked into his angry youngest son's face. He knew he would get nothing reasonable from Alan in this state.

"Go put the plane in the hangar, son, we'll discuss this later." Alan stood fuming for a few moments as his argument was cut short and then he turned and left the room. Jeff sat down heavily in his chair looking about 10 years older suddenly. The other 3 brothers stood silent. It was Scott who took the lead speaking brightly, in contrast to the tension still hanging in the room.

"Hey, Gord, Virg and I finished the pergola by the pool this weekend. Come and look."

Gratefully, Gordon turned away from his father and headed towards the pool with his brothers.

Plans

The three were halfway down the steps to the pool when Gordon realised he wasn't going to look at the new pergola. Scott and Virgil were going to do that twin thing and he was about to be in as much trouble as Alan. As the three fit young men jogged easily down the stairs Gordon was aware of Scott by his left shoulder and Virgil by the right. The two older brothers were perfectly in tune and in time with each other and Gordon knew he was being frogmarched not accompanied. He pondered about making a run for it but his back was still sore and he didn't fancy Virgil tackling him from behind.

Gordon's suspicions were realised when they got to the pool side and Scott, gently but firmly, took him by the shoulders and sat him down on a lounger. Scott and Virgil both pulled up chairs in front of him, matching determined expressions. Their brothers hated it when they got like this. They nicknamed them Batman and Robin, macaroni and cheese and other less polite things. Virgil and Scott had always been close and International Rescue had brought them closer as they worked together on rescues. Yin and Yang or right now, reflected Gordon with a chuckle inside, Cagney and Lacey.

"Okay," said Scott, taking the lead as usual, "tell us exactly what happened this weekend and remember to add in all the bits that Alan left out when he was telling Dad."

Gordon gave a resigned sigh. He would get his revenge at these bully-boy tactics in his own good time and a pot of honey and a tub of ants was beginning to figure in his thoughts. For now compliance was the best option. Gordon told the story of the weekend with Scott and Virgil interrupting and interrogating by turns.

"On the way home I asked him again about telling Dad but he was worried that would have prevented him from getting another chance like it."

"I think Dad's just pissed that he was the last one to know," pointed out Virgil.

"Yeh, but if we'd told him mid-weekend he would have hauled us back here and Alan wouldn't have got to race on Sunday. What Alan said was true. After the brake thing they really stepped up security around the car. It was checked and double checked before Al was allowed anywhere near it. I arranged for us to sleep at the garage last night as I figured that the security at the circuit was better than at the hotel."

Scott nodded his approval of this.

"But someone tried to kill him. We can't just let it go. What if they try it again?" asked Virgil.

"That's what I think," answered Gordon. "You should have seen him, guys, it would be criminal not to let him race again but we can't send one of us as a minder every time he wants to go on vacation. Gosh, I wish Dad could have made more of a fuss of him when he got home. It would really mean a lot to Al if Dad just said "Well done" once in a while.

"I'll talk to Dad," said Scott thoughtfully. "And you're both right. Much as Alan would like to brush this under the carpet this was a deliberate attempt on his life. He can't just let it go. None of us can. We need to look into it."

"And how are we going to do that stuck here?" asked Virgil sourly who felt it had been a long time since he'd seen inside any jazz clubs on the mainland.

"Did Alan have any ideas who it might have been?" Scott asked Gordon

"We didn't really talk much about it."

"What we need is someone to do some digging around, find out if anyone saw anything at the circuit, if Alan has any enemies." Even as Scott formulated the problem he realised the solution and saw by his brothers' faces that they had too. Virgil voiced it for them.

"We could ask Lady Penelope. She has contacts everywhere. She's always had a soft spot for Alan. I bet she'd do it."

"Okay, I'll talk to her," said Scott.

"Hey, why do you get all the action?" shot back Virgil. "You talk to Father and I'll talk to Lady Penelope."

"Okay," agreed Scott, "and Gordon can talk to Al and get him to do some thinking about who's behind all this."

"Fine," said Gordon.

The brothers then became aware of their father walking down the steps towards them. He looked a lot less angry than he had a few minutes previously.

"What are you boys plotting?"

"Us?" replied Virgil feigning innocence.

"Just a little ‘congratulations, you're a hero' surprise for Alan," put in Gordon.

"That wouldn't involve a fully dressed Alan and the pool would it?" asked his father. Gordon swivelled his head to look at the pool. It looked very inviting after an eventful weekend.

"I could really use a swim." He leapt up.

"Dinner's in twenty minutes, son."

"So? Five minutes getting changed, ten minutes in the pool and five minutes getting dressed for dinner." Gordon ran off back up the steps with some enthusiasm, bringing a smile to his father's face at last. Scott turned to Virgil.

"He didn't look at the pergola."

Virgil's face registered sad and wistful. "Damn, I'm really proud of that pergola." Scott shook his head with amusement at the way Virgil got so passionate about anything he made with his hands. Then, seeing his father settle himself down in a nearly lounger he decided there was no time like the present to put the first part of the 3 part plan into action.

A Little Chat

While Gordon swam strongly up and down the pool, Scott had a little chat with his father about Alan. Scott summoned all his tact to persuade his father that, although Alan's troubles were serious and needed attention, in the short term it would be more important to concentrate on Alan's success.

The dinner that followed shortly was delicious. Grandma, Tin Tin and Kyrano had prepared a victory meal for Alan with all his favourite foods. Bottles of champagne were opened and Jeff also rose to his feet and made a speech. He had obviously taken on board his eldest son's words and praised Alan wholeheartedly and without reservation, making it clear how proud he was of him. Alan's brothers, in the most part, restrained themselves from teasing Alan too much and by the end of the meal Alan was smiling broadly again.

The next morning, after more swimming and breakfast, Gordon went in search of Alan to have a little chat. Alan was in his workroom in Thunderbird 3 silo. Unable to shake his good mood brought on by racing, Alan had decided against any International Rescue work and had settled down to fiddle with the classic car engine he had as a personal project. Gordon peered over at the heap of metal.

"How's it going?"

"Slowly," replied Alan, smiling at his brother to show that he wasn't bothered by this. "The engine should be ready soon enough. It's just the rest of the car that's going to take forever. By the time I get it finished, the car I raced yesterday will be a classic."

Gordon chuckled. "Gonna race this one?"

"For sure."

Gordon watched as Alan carefully slotted together three small parts.

"It's not going to go away, you know." He watched as Alan paused for a second at his words and then continued with his task. "The sabotage thing. I know you want to forget it but you can't...we can't."

"We?" enquired Alan not looking up.

"I was talking to Scott and Virgil last night and..." Alan interrupted passionately.

"Oh right, and they're worried that I'm going to embarrass the family name am I? They don't want to be associated with a brother who might cause a bit of trouble so they're going to get it all sorted out and the culprit in jail "by tea-time" as Lady P. would say. Am I close?" In his anger Alan dropped the parts he was holding and cursed. Gordon sighed. It didn't faze him like it did the others when Alan got like this. Alan had a tendency to overreact to situations and become self-pitying and difficult. It usually made Scott mad but to Gordon it was water off a duck's back. He matched Alan's hysteria with steely calmness.

"No, Alan, no-one says you're embarrassing anyone. If Ned Cook hadn't broadcast the story I would still be here having this conversation with you now. Virg and Scotty knowing just means we've got more soldiers to fight the war. And I think we need to get started before Dad decides to do something rash like only letting you off this island when you're going up to Thunderbird 5."

"So what do Abbott and Costello think?"

"They think the same as me, that we'd miss your ugly mug if you weren't around. Swear to God, Al, if you die a hero on a rescue that's fine but because some jackass cut your brake cable? That'd be a crying shame."

Alan looked up at Gordon and a small smile played around his mouth at the gentle teasing.

"I'm gonna leave the hero dying thing to Virg, if that's okay."

Gordon raised his eyebrows but decided to move on now that Alan wasn't shouting.

"If someone wanted you dead on Saturday they probably still want it today and will want it next time you go on the mainland. We have to wrap this up and the only way we can do that is to find the guy and deal with him. So my next question is, who do you think wants you dead?"

Alan sat back and viewed Gordon between narrowed eyes. "That is not something I wish to dwell on."

"Tough."

Alan sighed. "Look, it might not have been something against me personally. Maybe someone just wanted to discredit the team. Or maybe their aim wasn't to kill me, just frighten me so I didn't take part in the race."

"Why? Who would that benefit?"

"I dunno. This was a one-off race. Sure I was the favourite to win but nothing is guaranteed in motor racing. If we had been halfway through a racing season then maybe someone would be concerned about losing their sponsorship if I won too many races and they didn't but at an exhibition weekend like that it doesn't make sense. Most of the guys in my race became multi-millionaires from their days on the circuit and race now for fun. There's just no-one that stands out as a threat."

"But the fact is someone is a threat. Think it over, see what you can come up with. Virg is going to have a word with Lady Penelope, see if she has any ideas."

He waited to see what reaction that would get but Alan seemed lost in thought. He bent forward again towards the oily pieces of machinery.

"Okay, fine. Shouldn't you be somewhere?"

Gordon shot Alan a look which he completely missed.

"Bye, Al." All he got was a grunt in reply so he decided, having made his point, that he would go where he was appreciated and headed towards Thunderbird 4's pod to give her a polish.

In his room, Virgil decided it was time to have his little chat with Lady Penelope. He settled himself down at his monitor and took a steadying breath. He and his brothers, not to mention his Father, would gladly lay down their lives for the glamorous Englishwoman, but her aristocratic manners and self-assurance quite frankly made Virgil nervous. He was never quite sure where he was with her, whether she was being sarcastic or truthful, or indeed how she really felt about anything. Virgil was a straightforward sort of guy and liked to know what he was dealing with. Still, she was the best person to help them right now. He tapped some keys in front of him.

"Virgil Tracy calling Lady Penelope," he stated into the vidphone with more confidence than he felt. He sat back and waited for the call to be answered. He was shortly rewarded by Parker appearing on his monitor.

"Ah, Mr. Virgil. Her ladyship is just stepping out of the shower. I shall h'inform her of your call. Please wait h'a moment."

Virgil decided it would be best not to dwell on the image that Parker's words brought up. Instead he looked at the wall behind the monitor where one of his own paintings hung. It was a landscape of a part of Tracy Island that he would escape to when he needed some peace. He was just wondering whether the frame was right for the mood of the work when his thoughts were interrupted by a warm voice.

"Virgil, darling, how lovely to see you."

Virgil looked back to the monitor and found Lady Penelope smiling at him, the edges of a fluffy pink bathrobe framing the bottom of her face.

"Hello, Lady Penelope, how are you?"

"I'm very well. And you and the rest of the family?"

"We're fine. Grandma is over her cough."

"I'm glad to hear it. And what about dear Alan? Parker and I were thrilled when he won the other day. He must be beside himself."

Virgil smiled. "He's pretty happy. I keep expecting him to zoom around the house pretending he's a car like he did when he was two."

Lady Penelope laughed politely. "Well, now, I'm sure you've not contacted me just to pass the time of day. What can I do for you?"

Virgil was caught off guard. How did she do that? He gathered his thoughts. "Well, it's about Alan that I need your help. Did you see the newscast a few hours after the race about someone cutting Alan's brake cable?"

"No, I didn't. Good heavens! Did that happen just before the race?"

Virgil explained how the weekend had gone as well as he could remember from what Gordon had told him. By the time he had finished he noticed a frown spoiling the otherwise smooth forehead of Lady Penelope.

"That's simply dreadful. The poor boy. I hadn't heard but I haven't received my daily news digest yet. And he has no idea who did it?"

"Not as far as I know. I was wondering if there was any way you could use your contacts and look into this?"

Lady Penelope's demeanour changed slightly. She went from concerned and thoughtful to stern in the blink of an eye.

"Virgil, does your father know you're talking to me about this?"

Virgil had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Not exactly."

"My dear, I am more than willing to use every method at my disposal to bring this potential murderer to justice but I cannot, in all good conscience, begin until I have the approval of your father."

"I know that, Lady Penelope. It's just that he got really angry with Alan for not telling him earlier about what happened. We're just trying to give this a bit of a low profile until he's calmed down."

"Hmmm, I can appreciate your point of view but the fact remains that if I do not talk it through with your father first then I risk breaking the trust built up between us over many years and that is something that I will not countenance under any circumstances. I am sure you can understand that."

Virgil sighed. He had kind of thought that might be her answer. Lady Penelope saw his disappointed face and hid a smile.

"Virgil, darling, you leave your father to me. What I suggest is that I contact him later today, telling him that I first heard of Alan's saboteur on a newscast, rather than from your good self. I will offer my services to help clear up the matter and, at the same time, hopefully soothe his over-anxious parental instincts. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great. Thanks, Lady Penelope."

"Well, it's always a pleasure to help the Tracy family. Now you behave yourself and we'll speak again soon."

Who Are You?

After his conversation with Lady Penelope, Virgil rounded up his brothers and told them what had happened. Alan was touched by his brothers' concern with his well-being and all four of them agreed to keep out of their father's way if a call from Lady P. came through.

Lady Penelope was as good as her word and, at dinner that night, Jeff cleared his throat and got everyone's attention.

"I had a call from Lady Penelope today. She saw the news about what happened to Alan's car over the weekend and she is keen to assist us in tracking down the perpetrator. She is going to look into it over the next few days and then come and visit us just before Alan swaps with John. Alan, I suggest you contact Lady Penelope if you can come up with anything that might help her."

"Yes, sir."

"In the mean time, if Alan goes on a rescue you boys maintain extra vigilance, clear?" There was a round of muttered agreements.

"But no-one at the circuit has any idea of my connection with International Rescue," pointed out Alan. Gordon sighed inwardly at this. If there was one thing he had learnt from the military it was when to keep your mouth shut. Their father was not cross. It was better not to stir him up. But Alan had to open his big mouth.

"Unless you can come up with some names, Alan, then everyone is a potential threat. Better to be alert than dead. Understood?"

"Yes, but...," began Alan but he caught Gordon giving him a look. "Yes," he concluded.

"What did the fish say when he swam into a concrete wall?" With some satisfaction Gordon realised that, at his words, all eyes were now on him rather than Alan. Everyone waited for the punch line.

"Dam."

There was a pause and then chuckles and groans filled the room. ‘Well', thought, Gordon, ‘as a distraction tactic it was crude but effective.' Virgil then came up with a slightly more risqué joke about a mermaid and platypus and Jeff's attention was off Alan entirely. Gordon resolved to get some favour in return from Alan at a later date.

Pretty in Pink

The day of Lady Penelope's visit and Jeff was positively chipper. The boys had long ago decided it was better not to remark on the upturn in their father's mood when Lady P. was around. As she swept into the house with a swirl of couture and the aroma of perfume following in her wake, the Tracy men tried to act as dignified as possible. Gordon had likened her to a tropical Lion Fish, simultaneously beautiful and deadly.

She perched on a chair and exchanged small talk until her cup of tea arrived. Lady Penelope brought her own tea bags and insisted that Parker should be in charge of the tea brewing. Much as she loved Kyrano, she loved a good cup of tea more. She took a sip and smiled engagingly at Parker. He nodded acceptance of the unspoken praise and left the room.

"Now then, gentlemen, we must move onto the subject of Alan. I have had extensive checks carried out on all those involved in the race meeting and, I am afraid to say, I have not been able to come up with any obvious contenders for saboteur. Naturally there were some people who, for one reason or another weren't exactly, how shall I put it, complementary about Alan but there was no-one who either had a real motive or opportunity to cut the brake cable.

"Furthermore, I have had a long chat with Parker about the method of trying to cause the accident. As far as he is concerned, cutting a brake cable is a very amateur way of going about it. If the culprit had been from the world of motor racing, it appears that there are many other more subtle ways it could be done so that any subsequent crash could have been put down to driver error as opposed to malicious intentions." Lady Penelope sat back and looked at Alan.

"You're right. A rogue upload into the computer controlled electrics would have done the job just as well. And I didn't think there was anyone that weekend that would actually want me dead. My real rivals when I was racing are still racing themselves and winning championships. They've no beef with me anymore."

"So we're no further on," said Jeff heavily.

"That's not entirely true, Jeff, we have eliminated some possibilities. That's an important start. But we will have to dig deeper. Alan, darling, this is someone from your past. Perhaps someone from one of the junior leagues you used to race in?"

"Perhaps from your karting days?" suggested Scott who had spent a considerable amount of his time-off driving Alan and his kart to and from races when he was younger.

"Maybe." Alan shrugged his shoulders.

"It couldn't be The Hood, could it?" asked Gordon vocalising the fear that, up to now, no-one had mentioned.

"It just doesn't seem his style," said Scott.

"Are you sure this was aimed at you?" asked Virgil "Was anyone else due to race the car that weekend? Another driver, pit crew?"

"No, the car was set up for me and me alone."

"Then, my dear boy, you will have to get your thinking cap on. I believe you are shortly due on Thunderbird 5?"

"Tomorrow."

"Well, it should be quiet enough there for you to come up with some ideas."

Alan merely nodded, deciding not to point out that Thunderbird 5 was anything but quiet with the constant babble of the comms channels and the filters picking up snatches of wireless conversation that he was obliged to listen to.

"Thanks, Penny, for all you've done. Perhaps you should continue to liaise with Alan over the next month and see if you can come up with any more leads between you." Jeff did not mention his relief that Alan would now be safely out-of-the-way for several weeks. Neither did any of his sons although they had all thought it. Alan could be selfish and difficult but they all loved him dearly and he had become an indispensable part of International Rescue.

Long Memories

A month later and Alan was back in the lounge, being raised on the sofa that had brought him up from Thunderbird 3's silo. Scott, who had fetched him in Thunderbird 3, was by his side. As the floor clicked into place Alan was greeted by his father.

"Welcome home, son. How was re-entry?"

"Brilliant!" replied Alan enthusiastically and Scott chuckled with amusement. His little brother was probably the only astronaut in history who got a rush from the noisy, hot and dangerous re-entry into the earth's atmosphere.

Alan, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Tin Tin who had appeared quietly by his side.

"Hi, Tin Tin." He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, aware of his audience.

"It's lovely to have you back, Alan. Are you well?"

"I'm fine." Their gaze held for a moment. Tin Tin knew perfectly well how Alan was having only spoken to him the previous evening. She felt herself blush as he looked at her.

"Would you like some iced tea?" she asked.

"That would be great," Alan replied.

She turned to go and Alan had to force his attention back to his father instead of concentrating on the gorgeous rear-end of Tin Tin exiting the lounge.

"Alan, we have a visitor. Come down to the pool."

"Who?" he asked as the three men headed for the steps down from the balcony. Jeff didn't answer. Alan took a look over the railing and saw an elegant figure seated at a table under a parasol.

"Lady Penelope," observed Alan and then the penny dropped. "Oh, Lady Penelope. Has she got some information?"

"It seems we may have found your enemy," said his father.

As they reached the pool side Alan found Virgil stretched on a sun lounger asleep. He glanced to the pool. Gordon popped up and gave him a wave. Alan went over to the pool and scooped up a handful of water which he deposited onto Virgil's stomach. Virgil leapt awake with a howl. He sat up ready to push Gordon back in the pool when he realised the culprit had been Alan. He laid back, an indulgent smile on his face. Like Gordon, he made it a policy to try not to let his youngest brother wind him up.

"Hey, Al! Thought I heard the dull roar of Thunderbird 3. By the way, you sounded a bit rough on the way in. I think one of your turbines is about to throw a nozzle. I'll take a look in the morning."

Alan favoured Vigil with a disbelieving look. "There is no way you could tell that just by listening to a landing."

"I'm not lying here just soaking up the sun, you know. It's all work, work, work with me." Virgil closed his eyes again, a picture of serenity.

"Your tan tells me different."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Virgil faked a snore.

Jeff gave a sigh of irritation and steered Alan over to the table in an effort to re-focus his thoughts.

"Alan, darling, how lovely to see you again." Alan gave Lady Penelope and even more chaste peck on the cheek than he had given Tin Tin. He sat down and Scott and Jeff also took up positions around the table.

"I intend to get straight to the point. I believe I have discovered the identity of the person who wants you dead."

"Great, shoot," replied Alan, instantly regretting his poor choice of words.

"Do you remember a young lady by the name of Jennifer Reilly?"

"Jenny? Of course. I dated her for a few months before I moved to here. Why? Surely you can't be suggesting....?" Alan tailed off, shock beginning to register on his face.

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting."

"But it's not possible. Not Jenny. You're wrong!"

"I am afraid that I have some rather compelling evidence to suggest I'm right."

"Go on, Penny," said Jeff while Alan's chin all but hit the floor.

"Firstly, Miss Reilly is registered with her local public library's news service. They provide her with a monthly digest of news items related to your good self, Alan. Of course, this doesn't have an enormous significance on its own. I expect a few of your old friends like to keep up with your exploits."

"If only they knew," interrupted Alan ruefully.

"I meant your racing exploits, naturally. Next it appears that Miss Reilly..."

"Jenny," interrupted Alan again, this time earning him a look of annoyance from his father.

"Jenny," continued Lady Penelope patiently, "it appears spent last semester on a car maintenance evening class." Alan looked surprised but kept his counsel this time.

"Finally, I checked the airline passenger lists. Mi-, Jenny, took a plane trip to and from Long Beach, coinciding with your race weekend. I arranged for her photograph to be shown to some of the security and other personnel at the circuit and a couple of people recognised her. She was alone, her hair was blonde but that may have been a wig, but she was definitely there. Have you any idea why that might have been?"

For an instant Alan was lost for words. He shook is head by way of reply.

"If she had been there innocently she would have made herself known to you, wouldn't she?" asked Scott.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Can you think of any reason why this Jenny would want to harm you, son?"

"No, no I can't. I mean we had fun while we were dating. It was just a casual thing."

"Maybe it was more casual for you than for her", suggested Scott.

"Little brother breaking hearts as usual," said Virgil from the lounger.

"Why did you two part company?" asked his father.

"Well, I..it...like I said, it was just before I moved here. I met her at college. She was working in one of the campus bars. I liked her but I couldn't see a long distance relationship working between us. I was so caught up in the idea of International Rescue I suppose I didn't really want any ties." Scott nodded his head at this. "But I let her down really gently. I explained about coming to work for you, about moving away. She didn't seem that upset that I can remember." Alan sat lost in thought for a moment. He decided against mentioning that he wasn't about to get serious with any girl until he knew whether he had any real chance with Tin Tin or not.

He looked up and saw Tin Tin walking towards them carrying a tray with a jug of iced tea and some glasses. She placed it carefully on the table.

"Thanks, Honey," said Scott. Tin Tin smiled but then, sensing that a serious discussion was going on, backed away and returned to the house.

"She lives with her parents," stated Lady Penelope.

"Yes, both of her parents suffer from ill health so that's why she's not moved away from home. Her father had some sort of back injury which prevented him from working and her mom has had diabetes for a long time. I don't think her mom is that bad. I got the impression that she played up her health problems to keep Jenny from leaving."

"Did you know Jenny suffers from depression?"

Alan looked surprised at Lady Penelope's revelation.

"No. She was fine when I was with her. She did take some pills occasionally. I never asked what they were."

"About a year ago she stopped renewing her anti-depressant medication."

"How do you find out this stuff?" Scott couldn't help but blurt the question out. Lady Penelope favoured him with a benign smile.

"You would be surprised how easy it can be. You just have to know the right question to ask the right person."

"But how did you know about Jenny? I'm sure I never mentioned her to you."

"Alan, as Jefferson Tracy's son, not to mention a first class racing driver, you will always be in the public eye. Some of your acquaintances over the years have been only too pleased to be seen to have a connection with you. They feel famous by default. People are keen to reminisce about time spent with you."

"I always tell the boys to be careful who they mix with. Money can be a much bigger motivation than loyalty to many people."

"It sure can," put in Gordon who was leaning over the table to reach a drink. "Hey, Scott, do you remember Mary-Lou Geary?"

"Shut up."

"Who's Mary-Lou Geary?" enquired a voice from the sun lounger.

"Well, Virg, she was..."

"Get back in the pool before I turn you into a parasol stand."

"Boys, boys, can we please get back to the matter at hand?" said their father wearily. "Alan, Lady Penelope has enough evidence for us to go to the police and have Jennifer Reilly arrested."

"No, no you can't." Alan looked horrified.

"She tried to take you out, kid."

"Scott's right, Alan darling. We have to look at this practically. She didn't manage to harm you this time but who knows in the future."

"And what if she tries it on someone else, son? The authorities must be made aware of our findings."

"But she wasn't like that when I was with her. She was kind and fun and.... If she's depressed then perhaps it was something to do with that."

"Trying to kill you strikes me as a ‘if I can't have you, no-one can" gesture which sounds like the product of an unbalanced mind not just a depressed one," pointed out Lady Penelope.

"After she's arrested, her lawyer can make sure she gets some appropriate treatment. Maybe she won't even go to jail if she's ill." Jeff was the voice of reason. Alan wouldn't accept it.

"You mean they'll ship her off to some god-awful mental hospital. No, Father, please. Look, let me talk to her."

"Absolutely not."

"I could just go and visit her, tell her I know what happened. Perhaps I could convince her to start taking the medication again, to get some proper counselling. Please, Father, give me a chance to turn this around for her."

There was silence around the table as everyone mulled over Alan's impassioned proposition. Scott spoke first.

"Sounds risky to me."

"I don't know, son."

"I think you should let him go." Gordon spoke quietly from behind his father's chair where he had been standing dripping onto the patio. "For Alan's own peace of mind, I think you should let him give it a try."

More silence. Virgil sat up to speak but his Father got there first, his decision made.

"Okay, Alan, you can go and speak to Jenny but on two conditions. One: afterwards, over the next few months we will get Lady Penelope to carry out a watching brief on Jenny Reilly." He glanced over at the Englishwoman who nodded her agreement. "She will check to make sure that Jenny is picking up her medication and attending counselling sessions on a weekly basis. If Jenny deviates from this one iota then we go straight to the police with our information."

"And condition two?" asked Alan.

"I'm coming with you."

With the Best Intentions

A week later Alan pulled the rented car up outside of Jenny Reilly's parents' house. Jenny had seemed thrilled with his call and had readily agreed to meet up. She was now seated on the top of the steps that led from the front porch to the drive. Alan glanced across at his Dad in the passenger seat.

"Okay, Alan, off you go. Stay where I can see you. One wrong move from that young lady and I call the police department."

Alan got out of the car and walked across the lawn. How could this 5' 5" girl be any danger to him? The memory of the brake cable crowded into his mind. Okay, scratch that, pay attention and expect the unexpected. He walked up the steps.

"Hey, Jenny."

"Alan!" She threw her arms around his neck and they hugged. As Alan pulled her into his arms he remembered all the fun they had shared. Then the wretched brake cable memory surfaced again. He gently pushed her away.

"Come in and have a drink. Beer, right? I've got some cold ones." Alan tried not to look over to the car.

"No, let's just sit here a while."

As gently as he knew how, Alan explained to Jenny what he knew. Jenny didn't deny it but burst into tears instead. Like most men, Alan had no idea what to do at this point and, not being the type to carry a handkerchief, put his arm around her until she stopped. The two then talked for an hour. Jenny tried to explain why she had done it but her explanation was jumbled and incomprehensible. Alan began to realise how confused and unstable she was. He tried to remember if there had been any sign of this when they had been dating but then they had all been a bit mad in their youth. Eccentricity had been embraced as creativity in his student days.

When she had finished her story Alan began to explain her options. Naturally she was horrified at the thought of the police and likewise horrified that Alan knew of her depression. Alan cajoled, persuaded and finally pleaded with her to get some help. For his sake, if she couldn't do it for herself. She looked up at him adoringly and agreed.

Finally, Alan realised he had done all he could do. He said goodbye to Jenny and she hugged him so hard it took his breath away. He walked back down the steps towards the car. He glanced back one last time and gave Jenny a wave. Jenny watched until he had driven out of sight.

"I think I did it, Dad, I really do. She promised to go to her doctor as soon as possible. She promises to take the meds and do the therapy. I think it's going to be okay."

"I'm pleased, Alan. We'll let Lady Penelope keep an eye on her for now. I'm proud of you. That was a kind and courageous thing to do."

"Thanks."

"Okay then. Let's get back to the hotel. I saw a steak restaurant not two blocks from there and your old man has worked up an appetite."

Alan's face broke into a smile.

"You're on."

Last Orders at the Bar

Two months later and no-one mentioned Jennifer Reilly any more. If Alan thought about her he didn't share it. He had even been allowed off the island a couple of times although he was not unduly surprised that the first time Scott needed a visit to the dentist and came along for the ride and the second time his father asked to be dropped off at a business appointment. Gordon suggested that Alan accept their concern with good grace and, for the most part, Alan had.

This particular day on Tracy Island found Gordon sitting by his father's desk with pages of diagrams in his hand. He had been discussing some work on Thunderbird 4 with his Dad. The two had spent some time deep in the calculations. Gordon was trying to explain where he and Brains had decided some improvements needed to be made and Jeff was trying to keep up. It wasn't that the finer engineering points were going over his head, more that Gordon was so focused and intense that Jeff had barely got to grips with one idea before Gordon was launching into another.

Fortunately for Jeff, after fifty minutes Gordon's ‘being-serious' quota for the day was used up and he started to regale his father with an amusing tale about one of his exploits in the WASPs. Jeff was chuckling when a soft buzzing on his desk alerted him to a call. He looked up and pressed a couple of buttons on his desk.

"Penny, how lovely to hear from you. How are you?" Lady Penelope's well-maintained face appeared before them. She smiled regally.

"Perfectly acceptable, Jeff. You're looking well yourself."

"Thank you. What can we do for you?"

Lady Penelope's face abruptly lost its smile.

"I wanted to let you know that Alan's saboteur problem seems to have resolved itself but not in a satisfactory way."

"Go on."

"Jennifer Reilly was found dead earlier on today. It appears that she killed herself."

The humour from seconds before suddenly evaporated in a moment. There was a heavy silence in the lounge. Jeff and Gordon sat stunned. Finally, Jeff stirred himself.

"That is truly dreadful, Penny. The worst possible outcome."

"I know, Jeff. It's a tragic waste."

"Thank you for keeping me informed."

"I'll contact you later, Jeff."

"Goodbye."

Jeff and Gordon looked at each other. No words could convey their shock adequately.

"Where's your brother?"

Gordon didn't have to ask which brother. "Playing tennis with Scott, I think."

Jeff stood up stiffly. He paused a moment, seemingly composing himself, and then walked towards the lounge door that led into the rest of the house. Gordon looked after him and then found himself on his feet. Something in him made him follow his father. Jeff walked through the house to a side door and Gordon followed a short way behind. Jeff went outside and down the steps that led to a tennis court which had been built in a space hewn out of the rock on that side of the building.

Gordon exited the house too but stopped at the top of the steps. He watched as his grim-faced father walked to the bottom of the steps and entered the tennis court where Scott and Alan were playing a hard-fought game. The two brothers stopped. Gordon saw his father go up to Alan and lay a hand on his shoulder. He could only imagine what words his father used. At those words Alan pulled away from his father's hand. He stood for a moment and then threw his tennis racket with some force into the net. He turned and left the court, slamming the wire gate behind him. Gordon watched Scott attempt to go after him but being stopped by Jeff's hand on his arm. Jeff and Scott then appeared to have a short argument which Jeff obviously won as Scott's shoulders slumped in defeat. He bent down and picked up Alan's racket.

Gordon decided he had seen enough. He retraced his steps through the house. He would need to talk to Alan at some point but not now. Instinct led Gordon across the balcony and down to the patio. Gordon felt troubled by Alan's obvious distress and that feeling led him to the pool. Being a water-baby, he lived as much of his life as possible in swimming trunks of some sort or another. He looked down at the rippling water, pulled off his t-shirt and kicked off his sneakers. Then he made a perfect dive into the pool, with barely a splash to disturb the birds in the nearby trees. He started to swim, up and down, up and down, and let the feel of the water on his skin soothe his mind.