Eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy slammed down the phone in disgust.

"No news again?" Fenton Hardy, Frank's father, asked anxiously. He was pacing around the cozy living room of Buerkle Gasthof, a small inn in the outskirt of Salzburg, Austria, which they were staying right now.

Frank shook his head grimly.

"They said there are not enough clues to search for Joe," he reported sarcastically. He sank down on the sofa, and rubbed his temple wearily. His dark eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his head pounded painfully. He had been feeling this way for a couple of days now. Ever since Joe disappeared.

Three days ago, he and Joe, his younger brother by a year, arrived in Salzburg for vacation. Actually, Frank had won a trip to Salzburg for two, and naturally he decided to bring his brother along. He didn't even remember entering a contest for this trip.

After getting permission from his parents, both brothers went ahead with their winter vacation in Salzburg.

"I can't wait to go skiing in the Alps!" blond-haired Joe Hardy had exclaimed. His bright blue eyes were twinkling with excitement. "Then we can go do some snowboarding, and maybe …"

Frank had shook his head in amusement as his brother began listing some of the activities that he wanted to do during their vacation.

It had been like a dream vacation.

Apparently not.

Frank scowled at the phone, as if it was its fault for this incident. He sank down on the sofa.

He sighed. "This is all my fault," he pressed his palms against his forehead for a moment before running his hands through his hair in frustration. The guilt that he had felt for days came bubbling to the surface.

His father sat down beside him and placed his arm around his son's shoulders.

"None of this is your fault. You couldn't have known what had happened," he told Frank, trying to soothe him.

"It is, Dad," Frank replied heavily. "If I had followed him with that day…I – I was too stubborn to listen to him…" his explanation came out in riddles.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning, Frank. I can't understand you," his father told him gently.

"Sure lots of tourists over here," Joe commented after leaving the check-in counter at Buerkle Gasthof.

"It's one of the famous tourists' spots in Austria," Frank replied, "After all, this is the birthplace of Mozart."

"Huh? Do I know him?" his brother looked puzzled.

Frank chuckled.

"He was one of the great composers in eighteenth century."

"I should have known," he groaned. "Just give me heavy metals any day."

Frank just gave him a mock scowl.

"So, what's our first plan?" Joe asked Frank after they had placed their luggage in their room.

"Hmm," Frank pulled out his guidebook, "We go to the place which this city is famous for."

"What's that?"

"Mozarts Geburtshaus. It's Mozart's birthplace, and they have converted it into a museum," Frank replied, reading from the guidebook. "And it's not too far away if we take a ride by cable car. Hmm…this reminds me of San Francisco."

Joe rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"Frank, come on!" his brother said exasperatedly. " We're living just a step away from the Alps. I'm dying to try on my new snowboard!"

"We can do that tomorrow. We still have plenty of time."

Joe made a face. "Okay, today we follow your plan, tomorrow is mine," he told him firmly.

Frank was about to argue, but stopped when he saw the stubborn look on his brother's face.

He gave a resigned sigh. "All right."

So, they spent that day visiting places like Mozart's birthplace, Rathaus, the Cathedral, Mirabell Castle, Glockenspiel, and the Festival Theatre, which used to be a riding-school during seventeenth century.

By the time they got back to their hotel, it was already dark, and they were tired and exhausted. Even their jetlag was starting to take toll on them. They decided to have their dinner in the room.