THE TRACY CELESTE by PURUPUSS RATED FRC

Even as a ghost, Gordon Tracy enjoys a bit of mischief.

"It's not fair," Gordon Tracy complained to the Pacific Ocean.

If the Pacific Ocean said anything in reply, Gordon was too far away to hear it. He sighed and turned from the window to look at his immediate surroundings. High-tech computers bleeped, lights flashed, reels scrolled and a constant burble of voices tried to convince him that he was not alone.

Except that Gordon was very aware that he was alone. Alone on board Thunderbird Five. Alone on October 31st.

Halloween.

"It's not fair," he repeated.

After April 1st (April Fool's Day), Halloween was his favourite day of the year and this year he'd been planning to make it something extra special. It wasn't his fault that the previous afternoon his grandmother had found that box of ultra-realistic robotic spiders before he'd had a chance to stash them away. Her resultant screams had brought the entire household running, and the threatening looks from his brothers (as though he'd meant her to drop and break the punch bowl!) made him think that he wasn't long for this world.

But those looks hadn't been as bad to bear as when his father had banished him up into space. Gordon had a sneaking suspicion that it was an instinct for self-preservation, as much as a need to punish his son, which had dictated Jeff Tracy's decision to send the red-head to Thunderbird Five for a week. To add insult to injury, everyone had seemed pleased to see him go... Everyone except for John, who seemed to be resigning himself to returning to his beloved ‘bird to discover green goo oozing from the taps, his sheets apple-pied, and a giant inflated polar bear crammed into the toilet cubicle.

Gordon sighed again. John was safe. The prankster had been marched off to Thunderbird Five so fast that he'd barely been given the opportunity to throw some clothes into a case, let along grab something from his kitbag of tricks.

What was especially galling, was that at the moment everyone else in the family were involved something that had to be infinitely more interesting than standing around waiting for information to waft through the airwaves. Thunderbird Three had no sooner returned to Earth when Jeff had received a call from Tracy Industries' head office stating that his presence was needed there immediately. Grandma, Tin-Tin and Kyrano all had purchases that they needed to make for the household (including a new punch bowl) and so had taken the opportunity to travel with him. These four had no sooner touched down on American soil when International Rescue's services were requested. This was to an emergency so large that Scott, left in charge at home, had made the unusual decision to send not only Virgil, John and Alan, but also Brains and, after some brief soul-searching, himself; theorising that any major decisions could be made just as easily at ground zero as from a small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

And so, for the first time since International Rescue had started operations, Tracy Island was devoid of human life.

And Gordon, after that burst of excitement when the initial call for help came through, had nothing to do. He was alone and very, very bored, despite having been up here for only just a few hours.

"It's not fair," he repeated.

An unusual sound filled Thunderbird Five's control room and Gordon frowned. This wasn't a noise he was used to. With some trepidation he approached the console, hoping that he wasn't going to find that red warning light to tell him that Thunderbird Five was going into decaying orbit or the scarlet one stating that the satellite had been damaged by a meteor. Or worse still - one saying that the shower's water supply had been exhausted!

He pushed the button that was flashing amber and read the resulting printout. "Visitors? I'm sure no-one's expecting visitors at home." He ran through a mental checklist of who it could be. Most people, such as his father's ex-Air Force buddies or Tin-Tin's suitors, were only willing to make the long Pacific crossing to the Tracys' home by plane. It was highly unusual for someone to arrive by boat, unless it was a sailor just happy to find land and respite from their sea voyage across the ocean.

The radar giving him exact co-ordinates, Gordon brought coastal video cameras into life and zoomed in on the boat that was anchored offshore a couple of bays away from the main villa. He immediately saw that it was a fast, deep-water cruiser; the type favoured by the military, smugglers, and multi-millionaires with more money than sense. A small inflatable had been launched from the cruiser and was zipping through the early morning light closer to his home, hugging the shoreline as it went."And who are you?" Gordon wondered as he zoomed in on the inflatable's crew. He saw to his dismay that they were all masked and armed. Whoever these men were, they were not paying a social visit.

Gordon's first response was a sense of relief that none of his family were in immediate danger. His second reaction was to call up his father, but his hand stopped above the communications link without depressing it. What could his father do from the States that couldn't be done from Thunderbird Five? Jeff Tracy had enough to worry about with International Rescue as well as Tracy Industries; he didn't need the additional burden of knowing that his home was being invaded.

Gordon used the same line of reasoning for his brothers. They didn't need any distractions from the hazardous task they were undertaking. So, instead of alerting his family to the danger, Gordon did two things. First, he initiated Operation Cover-up, concealing all signs of International Rescue on the island, and secondly he called the International Police.

"Thank you, Sir," the policeman on the other line said, unaware that he was communicating with a fully uniformed member of International Rescue, "we will dispatch our force immediately. We expect someone to be present in a little under five hours."

Five hours! Five hours of helplessly watching complete strangers ransacking his home and stealing his and his family's belongings! The very thought was enough to make his blood boil and Gordon clenched both hands into fists as he watched the four intruders crouch down behind a rock and survey the complex. One held a scanner in his hands and he pointed it at the villa, before sweeping it around the area about it. "Nothin'," he grunted.

"Nothing?" another responded.

"Nothin'," the first confirmed. "The place is deserted."

"Are you sure?" a third asked.

‘Scanner' held the meter so that his associates could see it. "See! Nothin'. No one's here. It's all ours for the takin'."

"Widen the search area," the one that Gordon was taking to be their leader instructed.

"‘Kay," ‘Scanner' agreed. "Halfa kilometre... Nothin'. One k... Nothin'. Two k's... Three... The whole island..." He shrugged. "Nothin'. The whole place is deserted."

"Are you sure?" number three repeated again.

"I'm sure," ‘Scanner' confirmed. "I'm only pickin' up five signs of life, and that's us, and Lemon on the boat."

"This is going to be so easy." The leader removed his balaclava to reveal a bad case of hat-hair. He stood, stretched and then preened his jet black thatch. "We'll just walk on in and help ourselves," he chuckled. He turned to ‘Scanner' who'd removed his own balaclava to reveal a messy, mousy hairdo. "But keep an eye on that scanner, Zip. The instant someone comes within 50 kilometres of this place I want to know about it." ‘Zip' nodded.

"I've got the crowbar," a guy with dark hair had swung the long metal tool from his shoulder. "Where do you want me to break in? The front door?"

"Don't be an idiot, Switch," the leader admonished. "We're miles from anywhere. Tracy's not going to be worried about locks. We'll just walk right in.

"Ah, yeah..." Switch looked suitably embarrassed. "I guess you're right, Boss."

"Of course I'm right."

"What do you want us to do then, Boss?" the inevitable bald baddy asked.

"You can help Lem tie up the boat at the jetty, Baldy. Then I want you both to check the outbuildings," Boss instructed. "The rest of us will work on the house. Come on."

Growing more and more irate at the sight of complete strangers invading his home, Gordon watched the three of them advance. "If only I wasn't stuck up here in this tin can!" He thumped the console in frustration. At a loss as to what else he could do that was constructive, he dialled the number of his father's office and told his father's personal assistant what was happening. Then, after requesting that the P.A. not mention the burglary to Jeff until after the Tracy Industries business had been sorted, he turned back to the video cameras.

"Hey, Boss!" Switch was standing in the family dining room. "Come and look at this."

"What?" Boss asked.

"Look!" Switch indicated the recently used dining table. "Half-full plates! Five of ‘em." He felt the coffee pot. "Still warm."

Boss examined the remains of an interrupted breakfast. "Weird. So where did they go?"

"How many live here?" Switch asked.

"Rumour has it that it's Tracy, his mother and, judging by the portraits in the lounge, five sons," Boss said.

"That's seven people," Switch noted, "and only five plates. Where are the other two?"

"Never mind the other two," Boss rejoined. "Where are the five who were here? It's like they disappeared into thin air or something."

"It reminds me of that boat... You know, the one they found floatin' empty..."

Boss frowned. "I don't remember hearing about anything like that in the news."

"No, not in the news," Switch corrected. "It happened years ago; last century or the one before. Found empty, but the table was set for dinner, just like this... I wish I could remember the name..."

"You morons!" Frustrated,Gordon shouted at the video monitor. "It's the Mary Celeste...! And the deserted meal was an urban myth. "

Switch shuddered. "This is creepy. The place is deserted, but I feel as though someone's watchin' us."

"Don't be stupid," Boss said. "You watch too many horror movies."

"You shoulda seen the one we saw last night. There was this ghost ‘n he'd haunted this house..."

"Switch!" Boss barked. "We are not here to review TV programmes. We are here to make our fortunes! Understand?"

"Yes, Boss," a sheepish Switch replied. "But you gotta admit that this place is creepy."

"Let's get out of here," Boss snarled. "There's got to be better stuff in the other rooms."

"Yes, Boss."

"Hey, Boss!" there was a shout from another room and Gordon switched video feeds to his father's study. "I've found a safe."

"Where, Zip?" Boss entered the room and walked over to where Zip was crouching on the floor.

"This says," Zip held up his scanner, "that it's under here." He indicated an area of carpet.

Gordon watched as Boss examined the floor covering looking for hidden seams and handles. "It's well camouflaged," he admitted. "We'll have to pull this carpet up to get to it. I'll get Switch and his crowbar, while you see if you can find any more hidden treasures."

"Right."

Torn between numerous video screens Gordon watched the strangers search his home. The guy called Switch had entered Jeff's study and was trying to prise the carpet away from the wall. "Dad's, not going to like you damaging his things," Gordon growled. Then he grinned: it was the look that traditionally sent warning signals to his family. Only this time it wasn't one of them who was about to be on the receiving end of one of his pranks. "The ghost of Tracy Island may have one or two surprises for you." He entered the computer code that transferred complete control of the Tracy house over to Thunderbird Five. "So you think a movie's creepy, huh? Let's see how you deal with the real thing." He searched through the computer's vast store of sound effects before thumbing a speaker in the study into life.

Switch, attacking Jeff's carpet, froze; sure that he'd heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find the room devoid of life. Shrugging, he clearly decided that he'd heard one of his associates in the hall, and resumed his work. After a short time the carpet was peeled back revealing a square in the floor.

Gordon played the sound of something being dragged.

This time, Switch stood quickly, scanning the room for unseen interlopers. Seeing that it was empty and the door was shut, he scratched his head and frowned. Then he began working on the lifting the square.

More dragging noises.

Switch was sufficiently unnerved that he walked around the study, searching behind chairs and the desk to make sure there wasn't anything unexpected there.

Gordon gave a low moan into the microphone.

Switch gave a yelp of fright and fled the study. Then, trying to appear nonchalant, he went in search of his buddies. "Where's Baldy?" he asked as he entered the lounge. "We need his safe-cracking skills."

"You've got the safe uncovered?" Boss asked.

"Got the carpet off. Looks complicated too. There's a big plate over it. Even out here Tracy's takin' precautions." Switch looked about him, taking in the fine artworks and precious statuettes and tried to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "This stuff has gotta be worth millions!"

"Yeah," Zip agreed. "And it's all ours for the takin'."

The burglars turned towards the patio when they heard footsteps outside and Gordon couldn't help but notice that Switch visibly relaxed when he realised that the newcomers were their two boat-mooring cronies.

"Find anything?" Boss asked.

"Lots of pool stuff and sports equipment, but we're after the high return loot, right?" Baldy replied.

"Right," Boss agreed. "What could you see from the water, Lemon? Anything of interest?"

"I've moored the boat on the jetty and there's a boathouse there we'll want to check out," Lemon pointed in two different directions, "And out that way there's an airstrip with hangars. There might be something worthwhile in there."

"We'll check them out later. Lem, go and check out the bedrooms!" The Boss jerked his thumb down the hall.

"Bother," Gordon muttered as the thug left the lounge. "I don't want you splitting up. I want you all in here." He brought up views of the hallway leading to the family's sleeping accommodation.

Boss placed his gun on the ground and swung his pack off his back. "Switch, show Baldy the safe."

"Me!?"

Boss turned to the source of the squeaked reply. "Yeah, you."

"B-B," Switch stammered. He took a deep breath and pointed out the door. "It's down there, Baldy."

Boss gave his associate a strange look. "There're lots of rooms down there, Switch. We'll save time if you show him exactly where it is."

"Wh-Why don' you show him, Boss?" Switch suggested. "Then you'll be the first one to see what's in there. I'll... ah... I'll stay here and help Zip start to load up."

"That's not a bad idea," Baldy agreed. "We've got the trolley outside. We can start loading now."

Boss briefly considered the suggestion, then he nodded. "Okay. Come on Baldy, bring your tools. And make sure you wrap everything that looks like it could break. If it's broken, it's worthless. And I want you to keep checking those scanners, Zip."

"Sure, Boss." Zip had taken his pack off his back to remove the scanner. He hung the bag on a convenient light fitting and, turning his back on it, began scanning the island for life.

Up in Thunderbird Five, Gordon laughed. "Thanks, Pal." He pushed a button and the wall panel rotated, taking the pack with it. Two identical light fittings swung back into place concealing the hidden door. "Scott's gonna love the new decoration in Thunderbird One's hangar."

"All clear." Zip finished his scan and turned to replace the unit in his pack. "What?!" He checked about the floor before turning to his partner. "Hey!" he scowled. "Whatcha think you're doin', wise guy?"

"Watcha on about?" Switch asked.

"You swiped me swag!"

"Not me," Switch replied.

Zip pointed at the escutcheon. "I hung it on there. There's no one else in the room. Who else would it be?"

Switch paled. "You must have put it down somewhere."

"I didn't! I put it on that light bracket," Zip insisted. A perplexed expression chased all others off his face. "At least I think I did."

Switch sidled up to him. "This place is weird. First the Tracys, now your bag."

"Watcha mean, ‘first the Tracys'?" Zip asked.

"The table's set for breakfast, and the meal's been started, but no one's here," Switch confided. "They disappeared into thin air: just like your bag."

"Don't be daft," Zip scoffed. "Nothin' can disappear into thin air..." He stared at the innocuous light.

"There's more," Switch lowered his voice to as if he were sharing a confidence. "They ain't been gone long."

"How'd ya know that?" Zip indicated his scanner. "No one's anywhere near this lump of rock."

"The coffee pot's still hot. This place is just like that... that... What's the name of that boat that was found with no one on board and the meal half eaten?"

Zip frowned, then his face cleared. "I know!" he exclaimed. "The... The Martha...? Myra...? Marie something, wasn't it?"

"Mary Celeste!" Gordon yelled at them.

"Yeah," Switch agreed. "Anyway, I think this place is haunted."

"You think this is a Haunted house, huh?" Gordon grinned as he realised that all those years of watching horror movies were finally going to have some use. "I'll be glad to prove you right. Just wait till you and your pals are all together again."

"What are you two muttering about?" Boss demanded as he re-entered the lounge.

"Nothin'," Zip said quickly. "Have you seen what's in the safe, Boss...?"

But Switch was made of sterner, or stupider, stuff. "We was just sayin' how odd this place is. First the Tracys disappear and now Zip's bag..."

"Zip's bag?" Boss frowned. "Did you leave it somewhere, Zip?"

"Uh... Yeah... I must've done."

"He hung it on the light bracket," Switch stated. "It's vanished into thin air. I'm telling ya. This place is haunted."

"I don't want to hear any more of your crazy talk about ghosts, Switch!" Boss ordered. "And why did you lock that door?"

"Uh... Which door, Boss?"

"The door to the study! It's sealed! Baldy's trying to force it open now."

Up in Thunderbird Five, Gordon laughed. "It'll take more than your crowbar to get that door open. I locked it when scaredy-pants there chickened out... Hey!"His attention was diverted to his own private space and he brought the web cam attached to his computer to life. "Get out of my room!"

Bright yellow hair was gazing at a collection of fish tanks as Lemon began to read the labels. "Plec-tro-gly..." He threw up his hands in dismay. "It's a fish! Why's it got such a fancy name?" He gave up on the tanks and turned his attention to the rest of the room. "What a tip. Now, what else is in here?"

"That's my room you're calling a tip," Gordon growled. "No one says that and gets away with it," he added, ignoring the fact that his brothers agreed with Lemon's sentiments.

"Hey!" Lemon's eyes fell on something even more golden than his hair. "What's this?" He reached out to the object hanging on the wall.

"Get your hands off my medal."

"Olympic... Wow! An Olympic gold medal!"

"That's mine! I earned it! Give it back...!" Gordon watched in anguish as his prized medal was pocketed. "You are going to pay now, Pulp Brain. How about some of your namesake?" Gordon entered something into Thunderbird Five's computers.

Down on Earth, his own computer beeped. Curious, Lemon wandered over to the monitor and peered close. Gordon grinned, "Gotcha!" From a tiny, nosy-brother-repelling bottle next to the web-cam, a pungent citrus-scented spray flew out and hit the intruder full in the face. Gasping for air Lemon staggered back and tried to wipe his eyes on his sleeve before, the overpowering smell sending tears streaming down his cheeks, he disappeared into Gordon's en suite bathroom.

Over the Internet link Gordon heard the sound of taps running, then a yelp of horror. More running water was followed by a deeper moan. Finally Lemon left the bathroom, rubbing his hair on one of Gordon's towels.

His face was as yellow as the mane on his head.

Gordon laughed at him. "Only I know the antidote... And you won't be getting it from me." He switched his attention back to the main living room.

Baldy had walked back in, the crowbar on his shoulder. "I dunno what that door's made of Boss, but nothing short of dynamite's gonna break it down."

"So, what do you suggest we do?"

As Baldy considered his answer, Gordon continued to follow Lemon's path through the house. The newly jaundiced man opened the doors, but otherwise avoided the other bedrooms. Instead he decided that the laboratory was of some interest. He stepped inside and gazed around, obviously in awe of the advanced technology that resided there. "I don't believe this place... I wonder what Tracy makes here?" He gave a sardonic grin. "I think I know how he made his millions."

Gordon had a grin of his own as the thug started moving around, opening drawers. This was one room that he'd managed to booby trap late yesterday before he'd been banished to Thunderbird Five, and he was more than happy to discover that it was someone other than Brains about to get the shock of his life.

Lemon pulled open a drawer.

Behind him, creaking ominously as a concealed selection of wires and pulleys worked their magic, a door opened.

Lemon froze and Gordon could almost see the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The big man straightened, swallowed and turned slowly.

Before the crook, in a cupboard that could not have been opened by any living being, a skeleton grinned at him. As he watched in horror, the skeleton raised a bony arm.

Lemon's mouth dropped open in a soundless scream. It was only when the arm clattered back down to the skeleton's side and the door slammed shut that the scream found voice.

Lemon found his feet as well and soon found himself back in the lounge. "B-B-B-B-B..."

"Five rats caught in a trap,"Gordon chanted. "Time for the fun to begin." Unheard by those in the room, the lock on the lounge's doors slid home.

"What, Lem?" Boss asked.

"B-B-B..."

"What's got into you?"

"B-B-Boss," Lemon finally managed to gasp out. "I-It's after me."

"What's after you?"

"Sk-sk-skeleton."

Switch and Zip looked at each other in alarm.

"What?" Boss looked at Lemon as if he were crazy. "What happened to you? You're bright yellow."

"Skeleton got me," Lemon babbled incoherently. "Sprayed me. Stunk..."

"What?" Boss repeated. "Baldy! Switch! Go see what he found. Zip! Check those scanners."

"Me!? Go down there?! To find a skeleton!? No way!" Switch took a step away from the door.

"Switch!" Boss rounded on him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Hey, Boss," Baldy asked as he searched without success for a handle on the door. "How do you open this?"

"I'm surrounded by idiots!" Boss strode up to the door and waved his hand over the switch. When nothing happened he pressed the switch's plate. The door remained obstinately shut. He pushed it and then tried to get his fingers in the crack to pull it open.

Eventually he had to fall back in defeat. "I don't get it."

Lemon plucked at his leader's sleeve. "The skeleton's locked it."

"Don't be stupid."

"I told you there's something creepy about this house," Switch raved. "I think it's haunted and whoever haunted it has got the Tracys. It's just like that boat the Marie... Marie..."

"Mary Celeste!"

"Marie Seller?" Baldy suggested.

"Yeah!" Switch brightened when he heard the name. Then his face fell. "No, that's not it." He shivered. "This place has gotta be haunted. The family's disappeared, their half-eaten meal's still here, Zip's bag vanished into thin air..."

"Shh," Baldy hissed.

"A skeleton's after Lemon..." Switch ranted on.

"Quiet!"

"And you know what day today is, don't you? It's October 31st. Halloween..."

Baldy grabbed his cohort and to shut him up held his hand over a gabbling mouth. "Listen!"

Outside the door, in the hall, footsteps dragging a chain could be heard.

"Zip!" Boss turned on the man. "I thought you said there was no-one else here."

"There isn't!" Wide-eyed, Zip stared at the meter on his scanner.

Beneath Baldy's hand, Switch whimpered.

"It's the skeleton!" Lemon retreated from the door. "It's after me."

Zip shivered. "The room's getting colder. Can't you feel the chill...?"

"Yep," Gordon was turning the dial down on the thermostat. "I'm going to put you all on ice."

"...I'm going outside," Zip continued, backing towards the patio doors, "this place is giving me the creeps." He pulled on the doors, but, like the other, they refused to budge. Outside the hot sun beat down on the island sending up heat waves, but indoors it felt like a fridge.

In the lounge there was a sound like that of an ill-fitting door creaking open. But nothing moved.

"Wooooo," Gordon wailed into the microphone.

Five frightened men spun around trying to find the source of the mysterious voice.

"It's nothing," Boss bluffed. "It's seagulls squawking and our imaginations running away with us." He picked up his gun and checked it.

Ghostly laughter filled the room. "So you think I'm only a birrrrrd do you? No... I am your worst nightmarrrre. I am haunting yooooooooou."

"It's the Marie Cellist all over again," Switch yelped.

"Mary Celeste, Moron!," the mystery voice corrected him

"Sorry."

Boss cocked his gun. "Who are you?" he yelled. "Where are you? Come on, show yourself."

"Wooooo," Gordon wailed again over the intercom. "You can't see meeeee... I'm in-vi-si-ble..." He laughed.

"L-L-Look," Switch pointed a shaking hand at the desk. The lid of a silver box was swinging open of its own violation. It banged shut again and all five men jumped.

"It's a trick." Boss took a deep breath and strode forward to prove his point. He flipped open the box and looked inside. "See, there're only pens in here." He reached in to remove one and yelped when the lid snapped shut, catching him.

"It bit you!" Switch exclaimed when he saw his boss blowing on his fingers. "It's alive! I'm tellin' you, this place is haunted!"

Once again laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls. "Haun-ted? Yes, I am the ghoooost of Tracy Island. Woooo."

Boss spun about. "Where is that voice coming from?"

"There!" Four hands pointed in four different directions.

"I'm here." Piano playing was heard in the vicinity of the baby grand. Boss ran over to the instrument.

The lid was down.

"I'm here." A painting of a rocket rattled on the wall.

"I'm here." The desk rose up towards the ceiling and descended again.

Childish laughter from what sounded like a little girl was heard from one side of the room. When the five men turned in that direction, the eyes in the portrait of a young lady began to glow.

Zip backed away from the portrait and found himself falling onto one of the many chairs.

"Wooooo." Gordon made sure that Thunderbird Three's lift was firmly locked into position and then activated its downward mechanism.

"Aargh!" Zip leapt into the air as the couch began to tremble violently. "It's alive."

"Snip, snip, Zip." More ghostly laughter filled the room. "Woooooo, I'm after yoooooou."

"I'm getting out of here!" Zip frantically pulled at the unbudging patio doors.

"I've had enough of this." Boss picked up the piano stool and threw it at the exit. It bounced off the plexiglass and clattered to the floor.

"Virgil's not going to be very happy with you. He's gonna wanna roast you alive," Gordon turned up the thermostat. "So I'll give him a head start."

Men who were already sweating in fear began to sweat in the heat.

"What's happening?" Baldy moaned, mopping his bald head.

Students of physics know that frequent vibrations can cause damage to otherwise strong structures. The sonic vibrations of a launching rocket plane would have brought the Tracy Villa crashing down within weeks of International Rescue beginning operations. To combat this, the villa itself was mounted on a pad which oscillated at a frequency set to negate any potential damage.

Ignoring the fact that Thunderbird One was half a world away, Gordon set the family home quivering. Pens jumped about on the desk, statuary danced, the strings of the piano clanged, pictures swayed, magazines slid off coffee tables...

Men feared for their lives.

Desperate to escape the possessed building, Boss unslung his gun and aimed it at the patio doors. A volley of shot ricocheted off the plexiglass and the five men hit the vibrating floor, covering their heads as shrapnel flew about the room.

"I don't want you damaging the place, but I'm gonna get my medal back before I let you go... Hey, You! Yolk face."

"I think he's talking to you, Lem," Baldy hissed.

"You have something of mine..."

Lemon whimpered and tried to bury his face in the vibrating carpet.

"I want it back... NOW!"

"Wh-What? I-I-I don't have anything of yours."

"Yes, you do. I want my medal back. Stand up..."

Unsure if his legs would hold him, Lemon got to his feet. He stood there, visibly trembling.

"Put it on the desk."

Lemon pulled the Olympic medal from his pocket and looked at it.

"NOW!"

Lemon ran to the desk and threw the medal onto the middle of the blotter. The silver box snapped at him and he scurried away to cower behind his Boss.

"Now I want you all to leave and don't look back!" The patio doors started to slide open. "This island is mine and mine alone..."

Five men were on their feet. Forgetting their swag they all tried to crowd through the still opening doors at the same time. After a brief skirmish they managed to break out and run down the steps and past the swimming pool. As they fled they heard a grinding sound, as if the very earth was opening up beneath their feet. Terrified they sprinted down towards the coast.

His video cameras following their every move, Gordon watched as they all took a wrong turning and found themselves on the runway instead of the jetty. Panting, the escapees leant against the cliff wall that marked the end of the airstrip to get their breath back.

Boss tried to make some sense out of what had happened to them. "What - puff - is it - pant - with – gasp - this crazy place? It can't be haunted; that's impossi..." An ominous rumbling behind him, coupled with the realisation that the whole rock wall was descending towards them, sent an icy chill down his spine. Without a second thought, or looking back to see the cliff face slot back into position, five men fled along the airstrip.

A palm tree fell across their path, blocking their escape. They turned to retrace their steps. Another tree fell, narrowly missing them. By now all lucid thought had abandoned the five terrified men and the sight of ‘snakes' rearing up from the sides of the runway barely penetrated their collective consciousness. That was until the snakes began to spit foam...

Slipping, sliding, blinded and banging into one another as they tried to free themselves from the clinging froth, the men found themselves in the middle of the runway, out of reach of the toppled palm trees. White spray still clouding their vision, logic left behind in the Tracy Villa, they climbed an ever increasing incline, until their feet gave out from underneath them and, helpless, they slid back down. They came to rest, wedged against an oblique angle and barely aware of a strong odour of scorched concrete and metal. Without caring who or what they pushed against, they freed themselves and ran for their lives again.

Now the way ahead was clear. The foam had gone, the runway was flat and the blue Pacific Ocean stretched out before them like a beacon of sanity. Scared out of their wits, desperate to get as far away from the house, the cliff, the snakes, and that eerie voice as possible; the escapees run along the centre of the flat airstrip towards the ocean, with no real thought about what they were going to do when they got there. They just wanted to be away from Tracy Island.

Conversely, Gordon was having a ball as he toyed with them. "You wanted my medal? Well, let's see if you're good enough to earn it."

The rhetorical question went unheard as the runway suddenly tipped down beneath the crooks feet sending them tumbling into the Pacific Ocean. Spluttering and gasping for breath, the would-be burglars, with varying degrees of competency, made it back to shore.

"Nah," Gordon sneered."You're not even good enough to hold the wrapper that protected the box that it came in." He watched as five dripping men clambered onto the beach and paused as they tried to catch their breath and regain their composure.

"Let's get outta here," Boss panted. "Where's the boat, Lem?"

Lemon pointed a dripping hand. "There... In the next bay round."

"Come on!" Yet again the men took flight.

"No!" Gordon clenched his fists in frustration. "I can't let you get away...!" he slammed a fist on the console, "But I've got no tricks left!"Feeling helpless, he watched as the fugitives fled along the firm sands: aiming for the jetty, the boat and freedom.

"Gaaaaaah!"

Gordon, as surprised as the five men he'd been watching, stared at the video monitor. Then he began to laugh: and his laughter, amplified and distorted by Tracy Island's loudspeakers, echoed around the bay...

---IR---

---F-A-B---

The sun was nearing the horizon as Jeff Tracy, aware that a police helijet was close behind him, brought his aeroplane down to land on Tracy Island's runway and taxied to the end of the airstrip nearest the hangar.

"Please wait for us to arrive, Mr Tracy," the radio had requested. "Do not enter your house alone."

Chaffing at the order, Jeff nonetheless complied. He stopped his engines, climbed out of his aeroplane and watched as the helijet made a vertical landing onto the clean, dry tarmac. As the whine of the helijet's engines subsided, he started walking back to where uniformed men were alighting.

"Help...!"

Surprised by the voice, and unsure if he'd heard correctly, Jeff stopped and listened.

"Help...!"

"Let us out...!"

"Get us out of here!"

Jeff followed the voices to the edge of the runway and stared at what appeared to be a large, roughly spherical object suspended in midair. Curious, he climbed down the steep iron ladder that led from the airstrip to the beach and walked across the sands, keeping clear of a trail of footsteps. When he reached one of the palm trees he stopped; looking up in total bemusement. "G-Get us down from here," he was begged. "It's been shooting at us."

Footsteps behind him came to a stop. "What do we have here?" the chief police officer asked. He pulled out a portable computer and started scanning the fingerprints of those hands that were pressed up against the net.

"I would assume that we have the men who tried to burgle my home," Jeff replied.

"Get us away from here," Switch begged. "This place is haunted."

"Haunted?" Jeff frowned.

"Like the Mary Celeste."

"You don't know any of these people, Mr Tracy?"

"Never seen them before," Jeff confirmed. "I don't know any of them."

The chief grinned. "That doesn't matter." He indicated his fingerprint scanner. "We've got a pretty good idea of their identities."

"Get us down!" Boss pleaded.

"All in good time," the officer said laconically, before turning back to Jeff. "Can you explain how they managed to get in this predicament?"

Jeff looked up at the palm tree that was bent over by the weight of five men constrained in a rope net. A drop of green goo dripped off the bundle of frightened humanity and onto the now verdant sand below. "I can only surmise, Officer. You see my fourth son, Gordon, is a practical joker. He loves playing tricks on the family, especially on April Fool's day and Halloween."

"Halloween? That's today!" the officer exclaimed. "And he set this trap?"

"No," Jeff mused. "I don't think so. Every morning he goes for a run along this particular beach. It's the one time that he likes some solitude and you can't see the house from here." He gestured up the hill before grinning. "My boy's a lover of all things aquatic. As you found, this isn't the easiest beach to access and it means he can commune with the ocean and practically guarantee that he won't be interrupted. His brothers know that and I'm guessing that they thought for one Halloween in their lives, they'd get him before he got them. I think they must have laid the net under the sand and placed a tripwire across the beach yesterday, thinking that when Gordon broke it this morning he'd be caught in the net and covered in this stuff." He picked up a bit of congealed and hardened slime off the beach and then looked back up at the suspended net full of green-stained men. "They obviously did a good job. They gave me a hint that it might be wise to stay clear of this particular piece of island. Now I know why." He laughed.

The officer crouched down to examine the patch of scuffed-up, dyed beach. "So are your sons at home?"

"No, they were all called away on business late yesterday, after they'd laid this trap. The island's deserted." Jeff stared at the five crooks. "At least it was supposed to be."

"It's not though," Lemon whined. "It's haunted."

"Haunted?" Jeff repeated. "You said that before. My island's not haunted." He watched as the police cut the net down.

Five cowed men stretched out, face down, on the sands. Switch was pulled into a kneeling position and his hands handcuffed behind his back. "The ghost was laughin' at us and shootin' at us and tellin' us that we were in big trouble when we were stuck in the net."

"Shooting at you?" Jeff sounded perplexed. "How could a ‘ghost' shoot at you?"

"It was makin' these poppin' noises."

"But there's no one else here on the island!"

"Are you sure, Mr Tracy?" the officer asked.

"Positive," Jeff confirmed. "Everyone's away on business or shopping."

"The scanner said the island was deserted," Zip confirmed. "But the ghost made the chair come alive, and he stole me bag..."

"What?" Jeff looked at the man as if he'd lost his mind.

"Made the picture shake too," Switch confirmed.

"And locked the door," Baldy added. "And chased Lemon." Jeff mused that with the green dye, ‘Lime' would have been a better nickname for any one of these men.

"It wasn't a ghost! It was the skeleton!" Lemon stated. "Look at me! It made my face yellow."

"Whatever it was, it made the desk rise up into the air!" Boss said.

As realisation dawned, Jeff suppressed a smile. "The desk rose up into the air, huh?"

"And the cliff moved... it was sinking."

Jeff frowned and made a mental note to have a word with his practical joker son.

Switch shuddered. "And snakes rose out of the ground and spat slime all over us."

"Snakes?"

"And the palm trees attacked us." Zip grimaced as the handcuffs were locked tight about his wrists.

The police officer was enjoying hearing their wild stories. "The palm trees attacked you..." He chuckled. "I suppose you're going to tell us that the ground tried to swallow you as well?"

"Yes!" Five heads nodded.

"And the piano played music, but the lid was shut and no one was playing it!" Boss said earnestly, desperate to make someone believe them. "You've got to believe us!"

"And the girl's eyes in the picture glowed and a kid laughed at us," Lemon gabbled.

"And all the time this horrible voice was laughin' at us," Baldy moaned. "Laughin' and laughin' and laughin'..."

"Too much sun," one of the police officers stated, tapping himself on the forehead. "They've been hanging out here too long."

His commander agreed. "C'mon, you lot. On your feet. Time we got you in the shade."

"Don't make us go up to the house," Boss begged.

"Anywhere but there," Lemon whimpered. "Don't want the skeleton to get me."

"I'll do anythin' and confess to anythin'," Zip promised. "Only don't make me go back up there."

"I'll even say that Mary Celeste was my fault," Switch asserted. "Just put me in a nice safe cell far, far away from this place."

"I think you'd better take these men away, Officer," Jeff advised.

"There's a nice comfy cell in the helijet, Mr Tracy," the police officer replied. "They can stay in there until we've finished our investigations. Not that we need more evidence against them. We've been after this gang for a looong time."

---IR---

---F-A-B---

It was several hours before the Tracy homestead was left under the sole occupancy of Jeff Tracy. By then the place had been thoroughly forensically examined, Gordon's gold medal had produced a fine set of fingerprints, and Zip's scanner, along with his bag, which had mysteriously reappeared in the interim, had been taken away as evidence. The carpet in Jeff's study had been photographed, cartridge cases had been retrieved from the lounge, and the skeleton in the cupboard in Brains' laboratory had been laughed at.

Jeff sat at his desk and admired his son's Olympic medal before initiating contact with the space station. "Come in, Thunderbird Five."

Gordon was chilling out, his feet propped up on John's precious console, happily munching away on a bowl of popcorn as he watched his fourth re-run of the events of earlier in the day. When he saw his father he sat up straight, spilling his snack. "Hi."

"Just what have you been up to, Gordon?"

Gordon gave a laconic shrug. "I only did what I could. I couldn't sit here and watch them get away with our stuff."

"So I see. I've been hearing all sorts of wild tales."

"Yeah?" A huge grin spread across Gordon's face. "Say, Dad, Thunderbird Five's great! Can I be rostered up here for April next year?"

Jeff's reply was immediate, unambiguous, and unequivocal.

"NO!"