18: A Quiet Request

When Virgil eventually arrived at the Willis Institute’s airfield the following day, he was met by John and Scott. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Scott replied. “You’re late.” He noticed Virgil’s barely concealed yawn. “Been out partying?”

“Not exactly,” Virgil responded, side-stepping the question even though there was an element of truth to it. “I’ll ask again; what are you guys doing here?”

“And we’ll say again: waiting for you,” John echoed his brother. “We didn’t want to leave until you got here.”

“Leave?” Virgil frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To initiate stage two of our great plan,” Scott stated. “That’s assuming that you’ve got stage one.”

“I’ve got it,” Virgil grumbled. He’d put the parcels into his plane earlier in the week and had checked that they were still there before flying out this morning. “But you still haven’t told me why.”

“It’s a surprise.” Scott grinned. “Where’s your trophy?”

Virgil had been so dreading coming to the Willis this morning that he’d nearly forgotten to bring his award from ACE. “In the plane.”

“Well, get it out here!” John exclaimed. “The only reason why we haven’t already left is because we want to see it.”

Virgil felt a warm feeling wash through him at the obvious pleasure his brothers were getting from seeing him receive some recognition. “I was going to leave it in the plane until after I’d taken your stuff up to the room, but there’s nothing stopping you from coming in here to have a look.” He led the way inside his aeroplane and his siblings bounded in after him. Carefully removing the award from where he’d stowed it, Virgil placed it on one of the parcels. “There it is.”

Scott gave a low whistle and rotated the prize so he could see it from all angles. “They’ve put a lot of effort into making this.”

“Has it got everyone’s signature on it?” John asked.

“Everyone who was on the flight.”

John’s finger traced the recipient’s name. “Virgil Tracy... Did it seem odd to have your real name written up for everyone at ACE to see?”

“It did a bit,” Virgil confessed. “So I nearly told them the truth when they presented it to me.”

“But you didn’t want anyone to think that you were a spy for the boss?” Scott guessed.

“Yes. Because of this, and the newspaper reports, some of them have started calling me ‘Tracy’.” Virgil laughed. “They think it’s a nickname.”

“It’s a better name than ‘Tancy’,” Scott said.

Virgil nodded. “I’ll be the first to agree with you.”

“That is a wonderful gesture,” John indicated the award, “and well deserved.”

“John’s right,” Scott agreed. “Well done, Virg.” He patted his brother on the back.

John began examining the parcels. “Judging by what you’ve got here our little plan should work.”

“Is it the best you could get, Virg?” Scott asked crouching down beside his brother.

“It’s the best on the market at the moment,” Virgil told him, “It’s so good that I nearly bought two; one for you guys and one for my room on the island.”

“What stopped you?” John asked.

“The company’s latest model’s due out in a couple of months and, by all accounts, it’s supposed to be even better. So I’ve got a set on order.”

“Good.” Scott stood. “Come on, John. Now that we know that Virgil’s here and that that’s here, we can go.”

“Don’t forget to install it properly,” John reminded Virgil. “We want total immersion. Have you got your tools?”

“I’ve got them. It’s not as if I haven’t done this before.”

“Just checking.”

“Talking of checking; have you checked with the hospital that they don’t mind my drilling holes in their walls?”

“Not a problem,” Scott told him. “When your patient’s the son of one of the world’s wealthiest men, they’ll let you do anything short of ripping down the building. Having money has its perks, even if it has its limitations.”

“How long are you guys going to be away for anyway?” Virgil asked as he followed them out of his aeroplane.

“We’ll be back before you leave tomorrow,” Scott reassured him. “We didn’t want to leave Gordon and Father alone for too long. They’re depressing each other.”

“Gordon’s been a bit down all week,” John added. “Diane and Rick have been here the last couple of days and we were hoping they might cheer him up a bit, but it doesn’t seem to have worked. They’re going to have to leave soon, so that’ll only leave you and Dad to keep him entertained.”

Virgil nodded his understanding. “At least he should get a kick out of telling me what to do when I’m installing stage one of your great plan... Whatever it is.”

Scott nudged his brother. “We’re wasting time, John. Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “See you tomorrow, Virgil.”

“‘Kay...” Virgil watched as his brothers climbed into Scott’s sleek jet and taxied out to the runway. Then he turned his attention to the five boxes in his plane’s hold. While the parcels weren’t heavy individually, they were unwieldy, which meant he’d probably have to make five trips. His great plan had been to get his brothers to help carry them up to Gordon’s room, but that plan was disappearing due south. He could place the boxes on the travelator, but by the time he’d got the fifth one safely installed, the first box could have been anywhere in the complex.

With a sigh he put one of the parcels on the ground, locked down the plane, and then picked the box up again. As he started walking towards the travelator, he reflected that it had been an expensive week. Not only had there been the costs of last night’s festivities, he’d also had to make these purchases on Scott’s orders. Not that he begrudged doing anything to help Gordon, he just couldn’t see what use they would be.

---F-A-B---

“Hello, Virgil.” Diane’s smile didn’t seem as bright as usual when he ran into them coming out of Gordon’s ward. “How are you?”

Virgil balanced the box he was carrying on a chair. “Fine, thanks. How are you two?”

“We’d be great if we didn’t have to go back to work,” Rick responded. “Blame Diane, she’s on weekend shift.”

“And you’ve got to catch up on the work you haven’t been able to do because you’ve been visiting Gordon,” his sister reminded him.

“How is he?” Virgil asked, indicating his brother’s room.

“He...” Diane bit her lip. “He seems a little depressed. You’ll have to try and cheer him up, Virgil.”

“I’ll do my best, but if you two can’t do that, I don’t know what chance I’ve got,” Virgil admitted. “Ask any of my brothers, they’ll be glad to tell you that I’m not known for my ability to tell jokes.”

“I’m sure that just being here will cheer him up,” Diane soothed. “What have you got in the box? Something for Gordon?”

Virgil peeled back the paper protecting the parcel. “This is box number one of ‘his master’s voice’... My masters being Scott and John. I’ve got no idea what they’ve got planned once I’ve installed them.”

“We’ll have to get Gordon to tell us next time we visit,” Diane said. “Unfortunately we’re not going to be back for a couple of weeks. With illnesses and leave, we’re short staffed at my hospital, and Rick’s got a backlog of work to catch up on.”

“And looming deadlines,” Rick grumbled.

Grandma bustled out of Gordon’s room. “Are you both ready...? Oh! Hello, Virgil. You’re late today.”

Virgil felt another yawn creep across his face. “I was held up.”

“And I’m holding up Rick and Diane, so we’d better go. See what you can do about cheering Gordon up while I’m gone. He’s not very happy today.”

---I-R---

---F-A-B---

“Do you have to make all that noise?”

Virgil looked down over his shoulder from where he was using an electric screwdriver to screw a bracket on to the wall. “Sorry, Father. But I’m only following orders.”

Jeff Tracy frowned. “Whose orders?”

Virgil stepped down off the small stepladder and picked up one of the five speakers he was installing around Gordon’s room. “Your two eldest sons.”

“So they get you to make that racket at a time when they are conveniently out of town,” Jeff grumbled. “Did they tell you where they were going?”

“No.” Virgil attached the speaker to the bracket. “Does that look about right, Gordon?”

Gordon, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, seemed totally uninterested in the new fittings that were being installed in his room. The only sign of life was his good hand, which was continually clutching and releasing his bedspread.

Virgil shifted the stepladder, made a few calculations and measurements, and then fired up his drill again.

Jeff had had enough. “I’m going for a walk,” he growled. He indicated his watch. “Let me know when you’ve finished.”

Virgil watched him stomp out of the room thinking that while everyone had been careful to warn him about Gordon’s obvious depression, no one had thought to alert him to his father’s bad temper. “He’s not in the best of moods today, is he, Gordon?” There was no reply from the bed. “Do you mind if I carry on drilling?” He took the silence to be an affirmation and continued his work.

Once the five speakers were carefully spaced about the room, so the optimal sound was directed to the head of the bed, Virgil sat in the chair by Gordon’s good hand and plugged in his portable music player. “We’d better test that I’ve done everything correctly. What do you want to listen to?”

Gordon’s first word of Virgil’s visit was barely audible. “Nadin’.”

“Nothing? How about I choose something and play it? Just so I know I’ve optimised the sound?” Virgil chuckled. “You know what Scott’s like if you don’t carry out his instructions to the letter.” He received no response from Gordon so he selected a piece of music at random, played it until he was satisfied with the sound quality of the set-up, and then shut the player down. “How has your week been?” he asked as he put the device back in his pocket.

“Szame… Allbwayz da szame.”

“How are you getting on with Catherine and Rose?”

“K.”

“Has Mr Millington said anything about your progress?”

“Nao.”

“Alan says he’ll be visiting on Monday.”

...

“Do you have any ideas what Scott and John are up to?”

“Ndgoyin’ demszelvs.”

“Enjoying themselves?” Virgil frowned. John and Scott had seemed to be cheerful, but he’d assumed that was because they were getting ready to execute their “great plan,” not because they were simply looking forward to some hedonistic activity. “Enjoying themselves doing what?”

“Dundo.”

Virgil looked around at his handiwork. “They must have something planned; otherwise they wouldn’t have got me to buy those speakers for you...” He remembered something. “I’d better let Father know that I’ve finished...”

“Dao yo noo whad da wirzt szond n da ol vwerl diz?”

Virgil tried to understand what his brother had been said and failed. “I beg your pardon.”

Gordon was staring at the uniform tiles of the ceiling. He had to repeat his sentence several times, becoming more and more frustrated, before Virgil, with the aid of the texter, was able to interpret his words. “Do you know what the worst sound in the whole world is?”

Virgil the musician could think of several candidates for such a dubious honour, but instead he replied with: “No? What?”

“‘Erin Did gwy...” The silence that followed gave Virgil the chance to rework the sentence into something coherent in his mind. “Hearing Dad cry…”

Disbelief made Virgil wonder if he’d understood correctly. “Cry? Dad??”

Still staring at the ceiling, Gordon continued speaking as if his monologue was intended only for that featureless surface. “Listening to him beg me to wake up... Lying here, screaming at him that that’s what I was trying to do… Telling him that there’s a brick wall lying on me and I can’t move… Telling him I can hear him, but I can’t see... I can’t talk... … I can’t do anything…”

Virgil listened, horrified by what he was hearing. He didn’t speak, even when Gordon’s words were unintelligible. It was only through intense concentration and a lot of guess work, that he was able to follow Gordon’s rambles.

And Gordon had a lot to say. It was as if he had been saving up a week’s worth of words for this one speech. “...All I wanted to do was to hold him; to tell him that I loved him; to tell him that I didn’t want him to suffer because of me... I wanted to feel him hold me; I wanted him to protect me... I wanted to tell him I was scared... I wanted to tell him not to cry.”

“I never knew he cried,” Virgil admitted.

“Only when we were alone. Someone would come in and then I’d hear the rustle of a newspaper.” Gordon’s good thumb twitched.

Virgil sat in silence. He remembered one day, it seemed a long time ago now, when Gordon was still in the coma. He’d arrived in this room to find his father sitting there reading a magazine. At the time he’d thought it slightly odd because Jeff had been determined to keep communicating with his injured son, and yet there he’d been, sitting silently, holding the magazine just that little bit too high… “I wish I’d realised.”

“I heard other things… I heard you guys talking… I heard Alan apologise over and over again… I heard you guys say things to me that you’d never say when I was awake... I heard your secrets to me... and about me.”

Virgil tried to remember what he’d said during those dark days. “Were you in pain?”

“No. You can’t feel pain if the only things you are aware of are fear and frustration. Now that’s all I know.”

“I wish I could help you, Gordon.”

“You can.” Gordon’s thumb twitched twice.

“I can? How?”

Gordon turned dull eyes to face him. “I’m not getting better.”

Virgil felt a chill overcome him. “Has Mr Millington said something?”

“He’s on vacation. Left yesterday. Won’t be back for a week.”

“But did he say something about your prognosis before he left?”

“No. But I know that this is it. It’s not going to get any better.”

“You don’t know that, Gordon. None of us do. Who knows what’s around the corner.”

“Then why aren’t I improving? Why can’t I do more than I can?”

“I don’t know.”

“Face it. I’m trapped in this bed for the rest of my life...”

“Not necessarily...”

“I can’t eat properly. I can’t wash myself. I can’t walk. I can’t turn the pages of a book. All I am is a thumb.”

“No, you’re not. It’s not as if you can’t communicate with us...”

“Most people can’t understand me. You’re struggling now.”

“Yes, I am,” Virgil admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sick of this. I’m sick of the boredom. I’m sick of being told what to do and being made to do it. I’m sick of physio. I’m sick of people pushing and pulling me about like a puppet.”

“Hang in there, Gordon. It can’t last forever.”

“And what will happen when Mr Millington finally decides that he can’t do anything for me? Who will look after me now I can’t look after myself?”

“We’ll all help.”

“Is that what you think? How long will it take before you’re tired of caring for me and you banish me into a nursing home?”

“We wouldn’t do that.”

“In that case have you thought about what you are going to have to do? Are you going to feed me? Are you going to wash me? Are you going to change my catheter? Or are you planning on compromising security and employing a stranger to look after all my needs?”

Virgil steeled himself. “We’ll do whatever’s best for you.”

“Have you thought about how many years I will have to live like this?”

“No... I’ve been telling myself that you’re going to get better.”

“But I’m not getting better, Virgil! And I’m going to be trapped like this for too many years... Unless you help me...” Gordon’s thumb twitched again and settled into that old hypnotic rhythm. “Help me escape. Help me out of this nightmare. Help me find peace.”

Virgil felt the chill turn to ice. “Gordon...”

“Think how good it’ll be, without having me as an albatross around your neck”

“I’ve never thought of you like that.”

“Everyone else does.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Scott and John do. They’re off enjoying themselves...”

“No, they’re not. Whatever it is they’re doing, they’re doing for you.”

There was a twisted laugh. “Is that what they told you? Do you know what they told me?”

“No.”

“They said they were sick of looking at my ugly face so they were going away.”

Virgil had no reason to doubt that this was true and was shocked. Not because his brothers had made such a statement, but because of the way that Gordon had misinterpreted it. “They probably did. But, Gordon, they were teasing you. We’ve always said things like that to each other. It doesn’t mean that we mean it.”

“They meant it.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“And Dad... How long has he been gone now?”

Virgil looked at his watch. “About an hour and a half.”

“See! He used to only go for half hour walks. Now he doesn’t want to be near me. He doesn’t want to see me like this.”

“That’s not why he’s not here! You heard him, he didn’t want to stay here and listen to the noise I was making. He was going to come back when I told him I’d finished and I haven’t done that yet. It’s my fault that he’s not here, not his, so I’ll call him now...” Virgil lifted his arm so he could speak into his watch.

“No! Not yet.”

Virgil lowered his arm again. “Gordon... Please... Don’t ask me to ‘help’ you. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re clever with your hands. You can make something. Something with a switch I can push with my thumb. You don’t even have to be here when I do it. I’ll make sure it’s some time when you’re at work.”

“Think about what you’re saying!”

“I’ve done nothing but think. That’s all I can do.”

“You’re asking me to help you give up!”

“I’m asking to be set free! I’m asking to end my life so everyone I care about can live theirs!”

“You’re quitting! You are not a quitter, Gordon!”

“I’m not quitting. I’m accepting the inevitable.”

“This is not inevitable...”

“I’m asking you to help stop Dad from suffering. Imagine, Virgil... Imagine not having to fly out here every weekend.” Virgil felt his face start to burn as he remembered how this had been his dearest wish last night. “Imagine Dad finally getting International Rescue operational. Imagine Grandma cooking in her own kitchen. Imagine Scott being able to fly whenever and wherever he wanted to. Imagine John being able to stay up all night looking at the stars. Imagine Alan winning the world championship without worrying about his crippled brother...”

Virgil saw a counterargument. “Imagine Alan not being able to compete in his final races because he’s so bereft at losing his ‘crippled’ brother. Imagine everyone hating me when they discover that I was the one who ‘helped’ you. Imagine me ending up in jail!”

“I’ll sign a paper saying I forced you...”

“How, Gordon?! I’m sorry, but you can barely hold a pen, let alone sign your name. And do you honestly think your signature would absolve me from blame?”

“No one would blame you.”

“I’d blame me! Imagine me living the rest of my life knowing that I was the one who...”

“But why should I live? What use am I?”

“You’re an important part of our family.”

“I’m stopping our family from living their lives!”

“We wouldn’t be a family without you here.”

“You’d all survive. We survived Ma’s death and grew stronger.”

“And do you remember the trauma we went through at the time? Don’t ask us to go through that again.”

“What about International Rescue? That’s on hold while I’m still alive.”

“That’s only on hold until you’re well enough to come home.”

“But why should people die just because I’m alive?”

“That’s not happening. We weren’t going to start operations until next year anyway.”

“We’re two months behind schedule!”

“Have you honestly thought what your death would do to us, Gordon? Do you have any idea what we went through when the radio reported that you were dead? When there was a chance that you wouldn’t live? You said yourself that you heard Father cry when he was begging you to wake up. He wants you to live! We want you to live. I want you to live!!” Just as he had when his brother was in the coma, Virgil placed his hand so it covered Gordon’s twitching thumb. “Please, Gordon. Don’t ask me to do this... Don’t give up...”

Gordon looked down at the hand that covered his own…

...

...

...

“Pweez, Brrchill.”

“No!” Virgil launched himself out of his chair. He brushed past the surprised nurse who’d come in to check up on the patient, and ran in to the family’s unit where he fell into a chair, burying his head in his hands. “No, no, NO!!”

A door opened.

“Virgil...?” It was his father’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve lost him,” Virgil moaned into his palms. “Gordon’s gone.”

Jeff misunderstood the anguish in Virgil’s words. He collapsed into the chair next to his son. “What?!”

“He’s changed.” Still not looking at his father, Virgil sat up. “It’s like he’s a stranger. I don’t know him anymore.”

Jeff exhaled a sigh of relief. “I wish you’d choose your words more carefully, Son.”

“Huh?” Finally Virgil looked at his father. If Gordon was behaving like a stranger, then Jeff Tracy was looking like one, and Virgil wondered when he’d aged so much.

Jeff put an arm about his son’s shoulders. “What happened?”

As he looked into the pale, careworn face, Virgil knew he couldn’t tell his father about Gordon’s request. “He... He’s putting a negative slant on to everything. I was going to call you when I’d finished, but we got talking and I never got the chance. He’s interpreted your absence to mean that you don’t want to be with him anymore. But it was my fault, not yours!”

“It’s okay,” Jeff soothed. “What else?”

“He’s talked himself into believing that Scott and John have left because they’re tired of being with him.”

Jeff frowned. “Why would he think that?”

“Did one of them say something about being sick of looking at him, as a joke?”

“Ah...” Jeff thought. “I don’t remember. You boys are always saying things like that to each other, so I didn’t notice.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him, but he refuses to listen to me.”

“What else?”

Virgil hesitated. Everything else he could remember was related to Gordon’s plea for help. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Come on, Virgil, tell me. What else did he say?”

“Uh... I can’t remember.” Desperate to escape the questions, Virgil leapt to his feet. “I’m going for a walk.” Without a backward glance at his puzzled and concerned father, he strode out the door, into the hospital corridor and through the warren that made up the Willis Institute.

He found himself standing beside his aeroplane: his ticket out of this nightmare. He leant against the cold metal and remembered his brother’s plea: “Help me, Virgil... Help me find peace.”

Peace for whom?

Virgil reached out for the lock and stopped. If he were to leave now, Gordon would probably think that he’d accepted the challenge. How would that make the invalid feel? Pleased that he was finally seeing the chance to end his frustrating life? Frightened that he’d made the wrong decision? Upset that one of his brothers would willingly assist him to end it all?

Virgil knew he couldn’t be the one to do that.

But going back to Gordon’s room was equally unpalatable. What would he face there? Pleading and hopeful looks? Subtle hints? Direct demands? Further questions from his father?

Virgil took himself for a walk around the grounds.

He missed lunch at the institute, instead making himself a sandwich at the Satellite. Even then he couldn’t eat it, so he gave it to some birds who’d been watching him from their perch on the back fence.

He arrived back at Gordon’s room late in the afternoon. His grandmother had returned from taxi duty and she shot him with an annoyed look. “Where have you been? I’m told you’ve barely been here all day.”

Virgil shrugged, unable to look her or anyone else in the eye. “About... I had things to do.”

Jeff was looking concerned. “Anything we can help with?”

“No.” Virgil said nothing to Gordon, and Gordon didn’t speak to Virgil.

It was through sheer willpower that Virgil forced himself to stay in Gordon’s room for much of the next 24 hours. He found himself counting down the minutes until he could leave and resolved to contact the Crumps as soon as he was leaving the hospital. He needed to talk to someone impartial.

In contrast to the sombre mood that filled the room, Scott and John were in high spirits when they returned. “I hope everyone’s had a good weekend?” Scott stated. “Because we’ve had a brilliant one. Right, John?”

“I’ll say,” John agreed as he placed a black box beside Gordon’s bed. “It’s amazing what you can fit into a little over 24 hours.”

Scott chuckled. “Especially if you don’t get any sleep. Just as well I flew us back here.”

“You’re a fine one to talk about not getting any sleep. What time did you get to bed last night?”

Scott shrugged. “The time zones had messed up my body clock.” He eyed up the speakers. “Looks good, Virg. How do they sound?”

Virgil shrugged. “Okay.”

“I hope it’s better than just ‘okay’.” Scott grinned at John. “Shall we do it?”

John’s grin was equally manic. “Let’s do it.”

“Right.” Scott pulled a music player from out of his pocket. “We’ve got something for you, Gordo. And, if Virgil’s done his job right, I think you’ll like it.”

Gordon looked at Virgil, but made no comment. His thumb twitched.

Scott was looking around the bed. “Where’s the plug, Virg?”

“Here,” Virgil held out the connection to the speakers.

“Great. Thanks.” Scott plugged the music player in. “Ready, Gordon?”

“Come on, Scott,” John complained. “I want to see if it works. Turn it on!”

“We’ve got to set the scene first,” Scott retorted. “Close your eyes, Gordon. Close them and relax.”

Gordon stared at him mutely and then, figuring that he didn’t have the energy or inclination to argue, obeyed.

“Good. Now imagine that you are on Tracy Island. You’re lying on the beach. There are gulls flying overhead. Up the hill behind you is the house. At your feet is the Pacific Ocean...”

Gordon opened his eyes.

“It won’t work if you don’t close them, Gordon,” John scolded.

Gordon scowled at him before closing his eyes again.

Scott pressed play. John pressed a switch on his mystery box.

Out of Virgil’s five speakers washed the sounds of the shore. The ebb and flow of the waters on the sands, the cry of sea birds, a gentle zephyr whispering through the trees...

Virgil frowned. He could almost swear that he could smell the salty odour of sea spray. He looked at John who smiled at him and mimed wafting a scent out of the black box.

There was a sigh of deep contentment from the bed. Surprised, Virgil looked at Gordon. His younger brother’s features had relaxed, as had his twitching thumb. All the stresses, fears and frustrations appeared to have melted away. He sighed again.

Now Virgil switched his attention to his two elder brothers and saw twin looks of astonishment. That John and Scott had been sure that their plan would work had been obvious. It was the way it had worked so quickly and completely that had surprised them.

A soft snore directed Virgil’s attention away from his siblings. Jeff Tracy sat slumped in his chair, even more relaxed than his bedridden son. The years he’d aged in the last few weeks had seemed to have melted away.

Scott grinned at John, tapped Virgil on the knee to get his attention, and then gestured that they should all retire to the unit. “Back soon, Grandma,” he whispered as he walked past. “You can keep an eye on the sleeping beauties.” When the door had closed behind them he and John shared a high-five. “Are we good or what!?”

“We’re good,” John agreed.

“Do you two realise what you’ve done?” Virgil asked. “I think you may have just gone some way towards saving Gordon’s life.” His brothers laughed. “I’m serious!”

Scott was still on a high. “Well, that’s International Rescue’s job, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” John crowed. “Today: Gordon. Tomorrow: the world!” Still grinning like maniacs the pair of them collapsed into chairs.

Virgil couldn’t destroy their euphoria with his fears and concerns. “Where have you been?”

“Tracy Island,” Scott replied. “Recording the sounds and smells of the ocean.”

“And sights,” John added. “Don’t forget the sights.”

“No, I can’t forget part three of our great plan,” Scott agreed. “We’ll need your help again, Virg.”

“Yes,” John nodded. “Lie down on the floor.”

Virgil stared at them. “What?”

“Lie down on the floor,” Scott demanded. “I assume it’s clean and you haven’t been spilling anything on it.”

“Of course not...” With some reluctance Virgil did as he was told. “Now what?”

John had retrieved another, larger, bottomless box that appeared to be hollow. “We stick this over your head.”

“What!?”

“Relax,” Scott soothed. “It won’t hurt. We’ve made it for Gordon, and you know we won’t do anything to hurt him. We just want to fine tune it to make sure that it wasn’t damaged in transit.”

“If you were Gordon and Alan there’s no way I’d submit to this,” Virgil growled. “But since it’s you two...” he lay back and let them place the box over his upper torso. “It’s dark in here,” he noted, his voice sounding hollow.

“That’s because we haven’t switched it on yet,” John told him. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” Virgil responded, wondering what he was letting himself in for.

For a moment nothing appeared to happen. Then Virgil became aware that the box’s interior was growing lighter. The area around him appeared to be infused with a calming blue light. He uttered an exclamation when a fish swam into view and darted away again.

“Have you just met Freddy?” John asked.

“Is that the name of the fish?”

“Yeah, he was following us about when we were filming. What else can you see?”

Virgil looked ‘up’. “I can see the sun through the water. And if I look down... I can see rocks and corals,” the fish darted back into view, “and Freddy.”

He heard Scott’s voice. “Let’s see how you go ‘swimming’ about the place. Give me your right hand.” Virgil felt something slip over his thumb. “Okay, now to turn right move your thumb right...”

Virgil obeyed and the video’s view changed; he was now parallel to the shore. “Can I swim forward?”

“Lift your arm,” John instructed, “but remember you’re Gordon. You don’t have a lot of mobility. Too much movement and you’ll crash into a rock.”

Virgil raised his arm slightly and the scene appeared to move forward. “This is amazing!”

“Do you think Gordon will like it?”

“It’s not as good as the real thing, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the effort you’ve put into it.” Virgil’s world went black again and the box was lifted off his head. He blinked against the bright, artificial light. “So is that what you’ve been doing this weekend? Filming?”

“We’ve got ten hours worth of footage,” Scott said smugly. “Some of it we got by scuba diving and others by trailing a camera beside the boat. And we’ve got Gordon’s WASP friends filming different marine ecosystems. They were glad to help.”

Virgil stood up and brushed his clothes down. “Hang on,” he said as a thought came to him. “Are you sure that’s safe? The flickering of the screen won’t bring on epileptic seizures, will it?”

“We were worried about that when we ran the idea past Brains,” John admitted. “But he made sure that the refresh rate is high enough so that that won’t be a problem. He’s been fantastic designing this and the sea sponge.”

“Sea sponge?”

“That box that gives off the smell of the sea. It absorbs odours like a sponge and then emits them when you want them. We might not be able to take Gordon to the sea, but we’ll do our darndest to bring the sea to Gordon.”

“We did consider making a virtual reality mask shaped like a diving mask,” Scott explained as he reclaimed his seat. “But we thought that might be too uncomfortable for him to wear for long periods, so we came up with the box idea… Our next goal is to get him out of that bed and give him some form of independent mobility. Alan reckons he’s got an answer to that problem and he’s going to bring it when he next visits, but goodness knows what he’s got in mind.”

Virgil settled into his seat. “I hope Gordon appreciates all the effort you guys are putting into giving him a better quality of life.”

“Talking of life,” Scott leant forward. “What did you mean by us saving Gordon’s, Virg?”

“I... I meant that he’s been really depressed this weekend.”

“We told you that before we left yesterday,” John reminded him.

“I remember that, but I don’t think you realise just how depressed he really was... Which of you two told him you were leaving because you were sick of looking at him?”

“Uh...” John looked at Scott. “I don’t know... It might have been you...” he frowned. “Or was it me? I can’t remember.” He shrugged. “Why?”

“Because Gordon had convinced himself that you meant it.”

His brothers burst out laughing. “Come on, Virgil,” John laughed. “Gordon knows us better than that.”

“Yes,” Scott confirmed. “It was just a throwaway line. If we hadn’t said it to him, he probably would have said that he was glad to see the back of us for the same reason. You know how it works.”

“I know how it normally works,” Virgil insisted. “But I’m telling you that this time he thought you meant it. Look... Maybe it’s because I’m not here full time that I’m seeing things differently, but I don’t think you realise how much this paralysis is getting Gordon down. You can’t just walk out on him with a flippant line and expect him to be content. He needs your continual support. He needs to know that you’re always there for him.”

John scratched his head. “But we have always been there for him.”

“I know that, but he thinks you’ve grown sick and tired of it. He thought you’d gone away this weekend to have fun and to forget about him.”

Both brothers looked sheepish. “I did set up my telescope,” John admitted. “That’s why I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I took Thunderbird One for a test flight,” Scott added. “To see how she performed; which, incidentally, was great. But that was work, not fun.”

“Yeah, right,” John scoffed. “You should have heard the whoops over the radio, Virgil. Admit it, Scott. You were joy riding.”

“I was not!”

“You were having fun!”

“Look!” Virgil held up his hand. “It doesn’t matter what you did this weekend. You needed the break and I’m not going to say that you shouldn’t have taken the time out while you had the opportunity. But you should have told Gordon what your plans were. You’ve got to promise that you won’t leave him again, and if you do, you tell him exactly what you’re going for.”

John gave a sombre nod. “Agreed.”

But Scott wasn’t convinced. “There you go again, Virg, insisting that we promise you something. Why? You know you can trust us.”

“Don’t promise me,” Virgil snapped. “Promise Gordon!”

“Okay, okay, I promise I’ll promise Gordon that we won’t leave him again. Right...?” Scott gave Virgil a strange look. “Just what happened this weekend?”

“He was talking about dying.” Virgil took a deep breath. “He wishes he was dead.”

“Dead?” John stared at him. “No way! Not Gordon. He’s always been so full of life…” A faraway look appeared in his eyes and he glanced at Scott. “Until recently…”

“He didn’t say this in front of Father, did he?” Scott asked.

“No. He’d gone for a walk while I was installing the speakers; when I’d finished we, that’s Gordon and I… talked.”

“Did you tell Father what you and Gordon were talking about?”

“No.” Virgil shook his head. “I escaped into here when the nurse arrived to work on Gordon. Then Father arrived and asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t tell him of course, so I went for a walk myself.” He paused. “It was a long one.”

“Dad’s another problem,” John mused. “He went out like a light when we played the audio. If you ask me, he’s heading for a breakdown. I hate to think how he’ll react if Mr Millington confirms that Gordon’s not going to get any better.”

“He needs to get away from here, even if only for a couple of days.” Scott sat back and thought. “The question is how do we get him away from Gordon?”

“Another question,” Virgil added, “is do we? In Gordon’s present state of mind we could be making things worse. And if Gordon gets worse, then Father will get worse.”

“Well, he’s not going to get any better if he doesn’t have a break soon,” John said. “And it’s not only his health I’m worried about. I was reading the latest paper while you were filing the flight plan, Scott, and there was a whole article about how the value of Dad’s companies are falling because he hasn’t been seen to be at the controls for the last two and a half months.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Scott replied, “he’s got plenty of secured funds. So what if he’s only a multi-millionaire instead of a billionaire?”

“Personally, nothing. It wouldn’t even matter if he lost all of his money,” John rejoined. “We’d all be able to earn enough to support ourselves. But what about International Rescue? You don’t run an organisation like that on the smell of an oily rag. All our plans, all the money he’s already spent; could mean nothing. And that would be Dad’s dream destroyed, not to mention what it would do to Gordon if he thinks the end of International Rescue is his fault...” His phone rang and he answered it. “Hiya, Kiddo… We’re all here… Just a second and I’ll slot you into the phone so we can all see your ugly face.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

Alan appeared on the videophone’s screen. “I just called to say hi and see how Gordon is.”

“Well, Virgil here thinks he’s depressed and…” John looked at Scott, “we’d have to agree with him. But in some ways we’re more worried about Dad.”

“About Dad?” Alan looked alarmed. “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing… yet,” Scott told him. “And we want to keep it that way.”

“You mean the way he overreacted the other day? But what can we do?”

“We’ve got to get him away from the Willis for a few days. Any suggestions?”

“No… But if Gordon’s depressed, is getting Dad away going to help?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Virgil stated. “We don’t want to exacerbate an already bad situation. We can’t help Father if we’re only going to make Gordon worse.”

“Well,” Scott said firmly, “in that case we’ll just have to get Gordon to help us.”

“How?” Virgil asked, hoping that whatever plan of attack his brothers decided on would be the best for everyone’s, especially Gordon’s, peace of mind.

Scott sat forward, placed his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers together as he thought. “So we’ve got to get Father to agree to leave; get Gordon’s consent for Father to leave; and, preferably, get the business world to see that Father’s still got his hands on the reins…” He looked at Virgil. “How’s ACE? Do you think Uncle Hamish would help?”

“I’m only an employee so I haven’t discussed the company’s financial situation with him, but I’m sure he’d be glad to help out.”

“Then we’ll call him and ask.”

“I’ve got to go,” Alan said. “But let me know how you get on and if I can help.”

“Will do, Alan,” John responded.

“Catch you guys later.” The screen went blank.

Scott stood up. “I’ll make the call.” Using the unit’s videophone he dialled Hamish Mickelson’s home number. “Hi, Aunty Edna,” he smiled when she came on line. “You’re looking as gorgeous as ever. How’s one of the best looking women north of the equator?” John looked at Virgil and rolled his eyes.

Edna Mickelson actually giggled. “You’re a sweet talker, Scott Tracy. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Okay, but I’m not so sure about the old man. Can I have a word with Uncle Hamish?”

“Oh dear, of course you can.” Edna leant away from the videophone’s microphone and called: “Hamish… Can you come in here, please?” She looked back at the video screen. “How’s Gordon?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“Well, give him my love. And don’t forget, next time you’re out this way you are going to have dinner at our place.”

Scott beamed at her. “If it weren’t for Gordon I’d be running for the airfield now.”

Edna glanced to her right. “Here he is… Give my love to your family.”

“Will do…” Scott waited until they’d changed places. “Hello, Uncle Hamish.”

Hamish Mickelson smiled at his honorary nephew. “Hello, Scott. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve got to get Father out of here for a few days for his own good. There’s no way that he’ll leave Gordon just to have a vacation, but he might be persuaded to leave if one of his companies needed his personal input. Is there any chance that ACE will require the boss’s services?”

Hamish thought briefly. “Well… He doesn’t ‘interfere’ with my running of the company as a rule, but we are due to release our quarterly accounts. If I were to say that I have some concerns then do you think that might be enough to tempt him away?”

“It’s worth a try,” Scott agreed. “But we’re not going to tackle Father until we know that Gordon’s happy for him to leave. He’s our first priority.”

“I understand,” Hamish nodded. “I’ll wait for a call, either from you or Jeff.”

“Bye, Uncle Hamish.” Scott rubbed his hands together. “I do love the planning process.”

“And ordering people about,” John said drily. “We’d noticed.”

“Do you guarantee that you’re not going to push ahead with this plan if Gordon needs Father to stay?” Virgil asked. “Otherwise you can count me out.”

“Don’t worry, Virg. I think I know exactly how we can get Gordon to agree with no fuss,” Scott responded. “But if it’ll make you feel happier, you can referee.”

“Referee?”

“Make sure there’s no foul play. You can also keep an eye on Father and let us know if he wakes up... Come on...” Scott led the way back into Gordon’s room.

Jeff was still sound asleep in the chair, Grandma had placed a blanket over her son and departed for places unknown, and Gordon was still relaxing to the sounds of the Pacific Ocean. He opened his eyes when his brothers entered. Virgil took the seat beside his slumbering father and Scott and John pulled up their chairs on either side of the bed, close to Gordon’s head.

Scott pressed his finger to his lips, indicated their father, and then held up his cell phone. He started texting. “Where’s Grandma?” He pressed send and the words appeared on Gordon’s texter screen.

Gordon’s thumb went into action on his own keypad. “Start dinner at house.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “We need your help, G.”

Gordon’s face registered surprise. “Help? Me????”

Scott’s texted response matched his brother’s for punctuation. “Yes! You!!!!”

Delighted at the prospect of doing something useful, Gordon grinned his twisted smile. “How?”

“We’re worried about Dad.”

“Dad?”

“He’s putting everything into looking after you. He needs a short break.”

Gordon gazed at the sleeping man, his expression revealing the deep love he held for his father. Virgil knew it was an affection felt by all of Jeff Tracy’s sons, but rarely shown. “Yes.”

“But we all know that there’s no way he’ll leave until you are ready.”

Gordon nodded.

“Because you’re our first priority.”

Gordon appeared surprised. “I am?”

“You are,” Scott said.

Jeff stirred at the unexpected sound and Virgil held up his hand until he was sure that his father had settled back into sleep. He nodded at his brothers to signal the all clear.

“What are we going to do?” Gordon asked.

“Trick him.”

Gordon’s eyes lit up as he looked at his eldest brother. “Trick him? How?”

“Uncle H is going to help. Something’s ‘wrong’ at ACE. Something only Dad can fix.” Gordon nodded his understanding. “But we know he won’t leave till you tell him it’s OK.”

Gordon nodded again.

“You’ve got to convince him.” This was a text from John. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. & don’t worry. S & I aren’t going to leave you.”

Virgil could almost see the hope in Gordon’s eyes. “You won’t?”

“No,” Scott whispered. “We promise that we won’t leave here again until you are ready to leave here.” He grinned. “That’s unless you kick us out first.”

Gordon looked at Virgil, his expression unreadable.

“That’s a promise,” John said, taking his younger brother’s good hand. “We’re here for the long haul.”

Gordon looked at him and then transferred his attention to Scott. “Ya pwomiz?”

Scott patted his shoulder. “I promise, Gordon. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gordon sniffed and looked between his brothers. A single tear trickled down the side of his face and Scott got a tissue and wiped it away. “Szowy.”

“That’s okay,” Scott responded, not understanding the real reason for the apology. He gave a disarming grin. “Makes a change from the usual Gordon goop.” Gordon chuckled.

“Are you ready, G?” John asked.

Gordon took a deep breath to steel himself. “Yes.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Any doubts we’ll wait.”

“‘F ‘e az ta gao, dan ‘e az ta gao,” Gordon said loudly.

Jeff stirred.

“Are you sure, Gordon?” Scott said at his normal volume. “Maybe Uncle Hamish will be able to muddle through without Father’s help.”

Jeff was wakening.

“Nao. ‘E az ta gao.”

“What’s wrong?” Jeff asked, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ve just been talking to Uncle Hamish,” Scott explained. “He’s got some concerns with ACE’s quarterly accounts. We told him you probably wouldn’t want to leave here.”

“Vud ‘e neez yi,” Gordon said. “Yi codda gao.”

“I can’t leave you, Son,” Jeff responded, now fully awake. “No matter how much Hamish needs my help.”

“Ya, yi gan.”

“Why don’t you fly out with Virgil?” John suggested. “You’ll leave tonight, have five full working days at ACE and then fly back straight after work on Friday. We’re only talking about 117 hours. When you consider the number you’ve spent here over the last two-and-a-bit months, that’s nothing.”

Virgil nodded, keen to reinforce that point. “Yes. I won’t even bother getting showered and changed on Friday. I can do that here at the Satellite. We’ll be back here before dinner time.”

“Yi codda gao, Did.”

“We’re not going to leave Gordon alone,” Scott stated. “Right, John?”

John gave an emphatic nod. “Right!”

“And Mr Millington’s at his conference this week,” Scott said, pushing home his argument. “We’re not going to find out anything new while you’re gone.”

“Well...” Jeff wavered. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Gordon?”

“Nao. Gao.”

Jeff gave a reluctant nod. “All right then. If I’m really needed... I’ll go and call Hamish; see what the problem is.” He turned to the son seated beside him. “How late do you want to leave, Virgil?”

“I’m easy. Whatever time you want to go. My plane’s fully equipped for night flights.”

Jeff stood. “I’ll make that call. If you change your mind, Gordon, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

“‘M ‘K.”

Jeff left the room.

“Yes!” John picked up Gordon’s good hand and high-fived it. Then he held it so Scott could do the same.

Gordon grinned like a lunatic.

But Virgil still had his reservations.

---I-R---

---F-A-B---

“I can fly her, Son.”

“I know you can,” Virgil responded. “But she’s my plane so I’ll fly her.”

Jeff looked put out, but, making no comment, settled himself into the front passenger seat. Virgil was glad that he hadn’t created a fuss. At any other time he wouldn’t have had a problem with his father flying his aeroplane (unlike Scott who was practically glued to his controls); but Jeff was clearly still very tired, and Virgil didn’t fancy taking any chances of him nodding off mid-flight.

A concern that seemed to be validated when, shortly after take off, Jeff fell asleep.

Virgil dialled a number on his cell phone. “Hi,” he said quietly so as to not wake his father. “It’s me.”

“We were wondering when you were going to ring,” Lisa Crump responded. “How did everything go?”

“Not great,” Virgil admitted. “I wish I could come around, but I’ve got my father with me. Can I take a rain check?”

“Of course you can. Will tomorrow night be too soon?”

“Tomorrow night won’t be soon enough, Honey, but I’ll survive until then.” Virgil paused. “I appreciate this...”

“Like we said before, Virgil, after all you’ve done for us, being your sounding board is the least we can do.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” Virgil hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket.

“Girlfriend?”

Virgil looked at his father who was regarding his son with a quizzical expression. “Just a friend,” he clarified. “I thought you were asleep.”

“So I gathered,” Jeff said. “Am I cramping your social life?”

“No.” Virgil made a course correction. “That was Lisa Crump. She and Butch said that if I needed to talk about anything after this weekend then I could call in and see them when I got home.”

“You could always talk to me.”

Virgil gave a rueful shake of his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

“No, of course you couldn’t,” there was a never before heard bitterness in Jeff’s voice. “I’m only your father. You couldn’t talk to me.”

“Wha...” Shocked and somewhat hurt, Virgil suppressed the urge to blurt out a scathing reply. In silence he pretended to concentrate on flying the aeroplane while trying to work out what he could say that wouldn’t sound defensive or antagonistic. Nothing came to mind and he wondered what had possessed Jeff Tracy to respond in such a way.

“I’m sorry, Son. That was uncalled for.”

Virgil bit back a “yes.” “What did you mean? I’ve never had problems talking to you.”

Jeff sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just that... Sometimes... Sometimes it’s seemed to me that you’d prefer to discuss things with Scott.”

“You’re jealous?”

“I’m your father, Virgil. I would hope that I would be your first line of support.”

“Well...” Virgil thought quickly. “There aren’t too many times when you wouldn’t be. But... on occasion... rarely... you haven’t been there.” Now Jeff looked hurt and Virgil was quick to reassure him. “Not that you haven’t always tried to support us, and you’ve done a heck of a lot better than many in your position, but you’re not Superman. When you were setting up the business you couldn’t always be in two places at once. And, sometimes, when it was obvious that you were stressed, it seemed kinder to go to Scott; especially when you had to deal with getting the terrible twosome out of trouble again.”

“But they’re not here now and I’m not miles away. I’m sitting right beside you, Son. Can’t we discuss your problems?”

Regretful, Virgil shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Because you are the problem. And I’m the problem. And Gordon’s the problem. And so are Scott, John, Alan and Grandma. Just this once I need to talk to someone outside the family. Someone impartial.”

Jeff sat in silence as he mulled over what Virgil had just said. Then he sighed. “What’s happening to us, Virgil? I feel so powerless.”

“We all do.”

“But all this money I’ve got and what good is it? Gordon’s not getting better and I can’t help him.”

“His accident wasn’t your fault. Even if you’d been penniless he’d still have joined WASP and would probably still have been driving that hydrofoil when it crashed. But you wouldn’t have been able to get him the care he’s been getting at the Willis Institute. Your money’s helping Gordon.”

Jeff stared out the window at the seemingly never-ending darkness. He grunted a reply.

“Think about the great things you’ve achieved with your money,” Virgil suggested. “It’s thanks to you that I’ve got a job I enjoy.”

“You would have got a good job without my help,” Jeff told the window.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I might not have been able to afford to go to Denver and get the education I did... Scott would have still joined the Air Force, but he probably wouldn’t have been able to attend Yale and Oxford. John wouldn’t have gone to Harvard and would only be an amateur astronomer instead of being able to live his dream. And do you think Alan would be principal driver of his own racing team if you hadn’t been there to buy it for him? And think about what we’ll be able to achieve when International Rescue’s operational. Think what good your money will do then.”

Jeff finally looked at his son. “Do you still think we should go ahead with International Rescue? Even without Gordon?”

“Not having an aquanaut will limit our scope,” Virgil admitted. “But how many underwater rescues are you envisaging us doing? Most are bound to be on land.”

“Maybe,” Jeff grunted.

Virgil alerted Air Traffic Control to their approach. “You don’t have to make a decision about International Rescue now. We’ve got until Thanksgiving, remember?”

Jeff nodded. “I remember. I just wonder how much we’ll have to be thankful for...”

To be continued...