Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.
For those of you who are not familiar with The Sentinel's characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy! Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. Band of Brothers and Welcome to Cascade take place before September Song [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after The Perfect Partner [Sentinel universe]. Missing Persons happens right after Fanfare for June [Hardys]; A Matter of Public Record takes place any time between Death on the Fourth of July and February Flirtations [Hardys], and before Remodel and Rebuild [Sentinel].
The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Nor does airport security!
Welcome to Cascade
A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story
By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers
Chapter 1
Joe Hardy groaned softly as he edged down the narrow aisle of the jumbo jetliner. "Wouldja look at this?" he groused to his brother Frank, who was close behind him. "We're stuck right in the middle of the five-seats-across section!...Excuse me...sorry, excuse me...sorry, ma'am..." he continued, making hasty apologies as he inadvertently banged people with his carry-on bag. With an exasperated sigh, he stopped at their row of seats and located an overhead bin to put the duffle in, then edged into the row. He settled himself into the inadequate seat and shoved a lock of thick blonde hair out of his eyes, gazing around with ill-concealed irritation.
"And we're gonna be stuck in here for eight hours!" he lamented, as Frank, having stashed his own carry-on luggage, slithered his lean body into the seat beside him.
"No we're not," the elder Hardy contradicted him, pushing back his dark hair in a gesture eerily similar to Joe's, "We've got a layover in Minneapolis."
"Just enough time to walk around and get the kinks out, and then back in this sardine can!" Joe grumbled. "This HOT sardine can...wish they'd turn the AC on! Tell me again why we're flying to the West Coast in August?"
Frank surveyed him calmly. "We'll, I'M going because I want to see Daryl again, and Blair and Detective Ellison," he said. He paused, considering his words with a grin. "I wonder why it's 'Blair' rather than 'Detective Sandburg,' but not 'Jim?'" he mused. "Anyway, they were nice enough to ask us to visit them. I thought that was why you were going, too."
Joe sighed. "It is," he conceded. "I do want to see them, and I want to visit Cascade. And I dunno why it's 'Blair' rather than using his title; it just seems to fit him better. Besides, didn't he ask us to call him Blair...? But all that aside, it's a darned long flight!"
"At least we make up time," Frank reminded him, trying to be encouraging. "Three hours! We land early afternoon, Pacific time."
"Yeah..." Joe didn't sound very convinced, but he subsided and picked up the airline magazine from the seat pocket, starting to leaf through it. Frank settled himself as comfortably as possible in the narrow seat and slid his headphones and portable CD player from the small backpack he'd kept with him. Once he had it going to his satisfaction, he let his eyes close, and relaxed, listening to the music.
The plane continued to fill with more and more persons traveling from the East Coast to the West, and soon the Hardys were flanked on both sides with their fellow-passengers. On Frank's left was a middle-aged couple who smiled briefly at him and said 'hello,' then left him alone; the woman immersing herself in a paperback book, and the man doing as Frank had done and donning a pair of headphones connected to a CD player. The seat between Joe and the other aisle remained empty, and Joe was starting to hope that whoever was booked into it had missed the flight. He really wanted that extra leg-room and seat room! But just as he was allowing himself to believe his good fortune, a slenderly-built, well-dressed man of medium height sat down beside him and slid a narrow briefcase beneath the seat in front of him.
"Hi." Joe summoned up a smile, trying to be polite despite his disappointment over losing the extra seat. "You just made it!"
"Uh-huh." The man nodded as he fastened his seat belt. He had light brown hair and hazel eyes, and was wearing a summer-weight suit. "The shuttle flight from Boston was late."
"You going to Seattle?" Joe tried for a bit of get-acquainted conversation before they took off.
"No, Cascade. Business trip," the man replied.
"Gee, so are we – me and my brother." Joe indicated the oblivious Frank. "Not on a business trip," he qualified, "just to visit some friends. I'm Joe Hardy, and he's Frank."
"Andrew Martin," the other supplied his own name. "Have you been to Cascade before?"
"No, this is our first time. You?"
"Yes, I've been there a couple of times – not recently."
Further conversation was halted, as the captain's voice came over the speakers, welcoming them aboard the flight. By the time all the announcements, safety instructions, and other information was done, and they were aloft, Mr. Martin had pulled some papers out of his briefcase and was studying them intently. Joe, deciding not to bother the man further, returned his attention to the crossword puzzle in the flight magazine.
###
Their stopover in Minneapolis, as Joe had predicted, merely gave them time enough to get into the terminal, grab something to eat while they walked around, and head back to the plane to re-embark. Having experienced what passed for meals on airlines, both boys stocked up on munchies for the rest of the flight to Cascade.
Mr. Martin either had not left the boarding area or had been gone only a minimal amount of time, for he was already in his seat when Frank and Joe returned to theirs. The couple on the other side of Frank had gotten off in Minneapolis, and to the older Hardy's delight, the seats were now empty.
"Hey, if these don't fill up, I can move over to the aisle – and then you can move over one, and we all can have more room," Frank proposed.
Joe nodded emphatically. "That's a great idea!" Gently tapping Mr. Martin's shoulder, he explained their plan.
"I'd appreciate it," Martin acknowledged with a brief smile. "I'm only 5'9" and I'm cramped – I don't see how you two boys can stand it!" As Joe moved over a seat, Martin took off his suit coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. "Warm in here," the man commented, returning his attention to his papers again.
Joe noticed with a slight smile that their seatmate had evidently done a little shopping during their layover; the man now had a good-sized bag of circular red-and-white-striped peppermint candies which he was sucking on, popping one after another into his mouth. Hope he's got good dental coverage, if he eats those a lot! the younger Hardy thought to himself, then shrugged. The state of the man's teeth was not his concern. He took out the spy thriller he'd picked up in a gift shop and opened it to the first page.
Half an hour later, when the flight attendants came around with beverages and packages of salted nuts, Joe took advantage of the interruption to look a little more closely at the 'Peppermint Man,' as he had taken to calling Mr. Martin in his head. The man was still immersed in his paperwork, reading through what looked like a lengthy contract with great attention to detail – giving the curious Joe an opportunity to study him without being obvious about it. After all, Dad's always telling us to pay attention to details...might as well get some practice at it!
Mr. Martin was nearly as 'ordinary' in appearance as the Network's Arthur Gray, Joe decided. Light brown hair cut short, hazel eyes under dark brows. The bridge of his nose had just the slightest bump, indicating that it might have been broken at some point in time. With his sleeves rolled up, an expensive-looking gold wristwatch was visible on his left wrist – and Joe noticed a long, thin scar crossing the inside of his other wrist, the right.
He cast an oblique look at Martin, wondering if the man had possibly attempted suicide at some point in time. Of course, a person could get a scar like that from a lot of things...Well, it wasn't really any of his business – just an interesting detail to remember! A scar, a slightly 'off' nose and a vast quantity of peppermints! Chuckling to himself, Joe decided he'd done enough practicing, and returned to his spy novel.
#####
"Wow, look at the water!"
"No, look at the mountains!"
The Hardys commented in hushed voices, murmuring to each other beneath the drone of the jet engines as they neared their destination. Looking one way, they could see the Cascade Mountains behind them; looking the other, Puget Sound sparkled in the distance, under the bright afternoon sun.
"Wow." Frank settled back in his seat with a smile. "I don't remember it being so pretty, when we were here before."
"We were here in the wintertime," Joe reminded him. "And it seems like we were always running around outside at night. Couldn't see anything. Besides, we were down near Seattle, not up this far north."
He glanced over at Mr. Martin, wondering if the businessman was admiring the view as well – but no, he was still poring over papers and eating his peppermint candy, seemingly ignoring the entrancing spectacle below them. Well, he'd said he had been here before, after all, so it wasn't like it was a new thing. With a mental shrug, Joe dismissed Andrew Martin from his mind and began gathering up his book, magazines and snacks.
Frank did the same thing. Both of them wanted to be off the plane as quickly as possible. Daryl Banks had promised to meet them in the airport, and they didn't want to make him wait any longer than necessary.
"Suppose Daryl's changed much?" Frank asked now, zipping his backpack closed and stuffing it back under the seat as the expected announcement about stowing all bags and 'returning seats to the upright position' came over the loudspeaker.
"It's only been five months – about the only change would be if he'd either cut all his hair off or let it grow," Joe hazarded. "I mean, it's not likely he's gotten much taller, or anything. After all, WE haven't changed!"
Frank laughed. "I guess you're right – but I feel like I've changed, since I graduated from high school. And so has Daryl, remember."
"I remember," his brother replied glumly. Frank heading off to college was starting to be a sore point for Joe. Even though he was staying in Bayport and attending the university there, it still made things...different. Joe knew it was inevitable – but he wasn't sure he liked it!
They waited impatiently while the plane landed, while it taxied to the terminal, while the pilot jockeyed it into place and the Jetway was connected; when the doors were finally opened, the Hardys were among the first to be on their feet and moving down the aisle. They hurried out the door, barely acknowledging the flight attendants' cordial goodbyes, and strode quickly through the Jetway to the airport proper.
"Daryl said he'd be just on the other side of the security checkpoint," Frank commented, snapping the handle out on his bag and dragging it behind him on its little wheels, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
Joe followed his brother's example with his own bags, and the two of them hurried along as rapidly as the crowds would allow.
"Joe! Frank!"
They spotted Daryl, smiling and waving in welcome, and moved quickly to join him. Once greetings were exchanged, the three boys started for the exit at a more leisurely pace.
"You're still the same," Joe noted with satisfaction. Daryl gave him a curious look, and he hastened to explain. "We were wondering if you'd changed in five months, that's all. You haven't!" The other boy was still thin and gangly with newly-acquired height, his curly hair close-cropped. Wide brown eyes sparkled in his dark face.
Daryl began to laugh. "What did you think, I'd grown dreadlocks or something? No way...and you haven't changed either."
Exiting the terminal, they headed for the towering parking structure. To the Hardys' surprise – for they had expected the August heat to be similar to Bayport's – the air was fresh, without the sticky humidity they were accustomed to. It was warm, but not oppressive.
Frank took a deep breath. "Oh, I'm liking it here already," he murmured to his brother. "Feel the difference?"
"Know what you mean," Joe whispered in reply. "It doesn't feel like a sauna here, like it does back home!"
"I brought my dad's car," Daryl explained, as they walked along, "but we're going to have to stop and drop it off for him – then either catch a lift home with someone or grab a bus. But I can take you to the house first, if you want...?" He fished a set of keys from his pocket and pushed one of the buttons. Nearby, a gold-colored Crown Victoria flashed its lights as the car alarm deactivated, and Daryl pushed another button to open the trunk for the Hardys' bags...
"I wouldn't mind going with you," Frank offered. "We might get to see Blair and Jim, and it would be fun to see where they work, anyway."
"Sure, not a problem," Joe agreed, stowing his luggage and closing the trunk lid. They climbed into the car – which, the Hardys noticed immediately, was redolent with the strong aroma of cigars.
"Okay – next stop, Cascade PD, downtown precinct," Daryl announced, and started the motor.
