The author recognizes that the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and their respective associates belong to Simon & Schuster as well as the Stratemeyer Syndicate/Foundation. The author claims copyright to his original characters which include but are not limited to, Andrew S. Fairchild and Elayne Fairchild. The use of these characters by other authors is permissible, however, abuse will not be tolerated. The author also claims copyright to the plot of the following story. He will not tolerate plagiarism. The author is making no material profit from the following fan fiction. The author may be reached at the following e-mail address. dreadnault@netscape.net
Author's Note: Here's another fan fiction story from me! I sincerely hope you enjoy this one. In essence this story is a sequel to The Fairchild Affair, however, it's not required that you have read the story despite the fact that there are some things that will seem a little clearer to you if you have read it. Enjoy! - Lord Dreadnault
Nancy, Ned, Bess, and George strolled through a carnival in Chicago laughing and joking. It was the Fourth of July and they had come to Chicago for all the special events celebrating the holiday this year. After having a picnic dinner in one of the parks they had decided to spend the evening at the carnival.
"That roller coaster was great!" George said in a cheerful voice.
Bess groaned, "Just because you like roller coasters doesn't mean you have to tease me about not liking them."
"Then why did you go on it?" Nancy asked.
"I don't know," Bess lamented.
"I bet it had something to do with that cute guy standing in front of us in the line," Ned whispered conspiratorially.
George laughed. "If you're so sick Bess, why don't we go on the merry-go-round next. Maybe that'll calm your stomach."
"If there's a cute guy on it . . ." Bess said.
Everyone chuckled and they began to walk through the noisy crowd towards the rotating lights of the slowly rotating merry-go-round. "Hey Nancy," Ned said, "isn't that Brenda Carlton over there? Don't you know her?"
Nancy took a look and groaned. "Let's get out of here before she spots us!"
"Too late," George commented, "she's spotted us."
Brenda made her way through the crowds and joined them. "Nancy! I've been meaning to talk to you, but I haven't had the chance. Weren't you involved in the Fairchild kidnapping?"
"Look Brenda," Nancy said firmly, "I just happened to be in town. That's it."
Brenda pouted unhappily. "You're just trying to keep me from a good investigative story."
"Were you involved with the kidnapping?" Ned asked.
"I was simply in Denver at the time of the kidnapping." Nancy said again this time in a more emotional voice. Ned's eyes hardened. He could tell that she was keeping something from him and he didn't like it. He refused to understand. Oh Ned, Nancy thought, I would share if I could. Why won't you understand?"
Ned reading Nancy's hurt look quickly softened up. "I won't bother you about it." I'll bug you later though, he decided. When no one is around and we can have some privacy.
Nancy smiled and Brenda looked more suspicious. "I'll stay with you anyway, we might run into something interesting."
Nancy shook her head and sighed as they continued towards the square.
"Maybe we should get something to eat." Bess suggested.
"Always hungry, aren't you?" George commented.
"I've been on a diet!" Bess declared. "I'm famished."
Abruptly the merry attitude of the crowd was ruined as a woman's scream pierced the air. "IT'S A DEAD WOMAN!!!"
Everyone's heads turned towards where the scream had come from. Nancy strained to see over the crowd. The scream had come from the darkened boardwalk. It was reached by a staircase that descended from the square the merry-go-round sat in. 'No Entrance' signs blocked the staircase. The woman who had screamed was standing right next to the signs and pointing down towards the boardwalk..
Nancy quickly made her way through the crowd towards the blocked off staircase. Ned, Bess, George, and Brenda followed her weaving through the excited crowd. Security guards and police were already converging on the scene. They were pressing back the hordes of people trying to catch a glimpse of the body. In the distance sirens could be heard.
Nancy soon reached the No Entrance sign at the head of the staircase, but a burly security guard blocked her. "Sorry ma'am, no one allowed on the crime scene."
Nancy opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. She opened it and showed the guard the FBI identification card the Network had provided her when she had joined. The guard stepped aside and Nancy hurried down the staircase noting absently that the guard had stopped her friends and Brenda from following her down.
She stepped up to the corpse and showed the officers her ID. "What happened?" Nancy asked.
"We're not exactly sure ma'am." the one officer replied. "Looks like she was stabbed with this knife." he said as he pointed to a knife embedded deep in the victim's chest. Probably a common mugging or something.
Nancy nodded as she scanned the ground. The woman's purse had been emptied. The contents were strewn all over the boardwalk.
"That's what it looks like to me," the other officer said. "Stabbed her, grabbed the purse, dumped it on the ground and took the valuables."
"On a boardwalk that was closed off?" Nancy asked skeptically. "What was she doing here in the first place? Not only that, there's nothing missing that a normal lady would carry in her purse."
"The lady has a point." someone said. Nancy turned around. The man who had spoken was wearing a suit and was escorted by another police officer. "Pardon me," he said stretching out his hand to Nancy's with a friendly smile. "I'm Detective Dave Johnson from Chicago P.D."
"Nancy Drew, FBI." Nancy replied uncomfortably as she shook his hand. She wasn't actually a member of the FBI. As a deputy marshal of the Network she had been given various ID's so that she could impose authority without giving away the existence of the Network to those who did not need to know. The actual government agencies that she claimed to be from would in fact confirm that she was a member as well if someone were to check up on her. This had been pre-arranged by Andrew S. Fairchild, the chief of the United States Central Network.
"Nice to have you with us Ms. Drew," Johnson replied in a friendly voice. "Let's see what we have." He pulled out a notepad, pencil, and began jotting down notes. "Female, Caucasian, late twenties, blonde hair, light makeup, slim, average height, and casual clothes. Anyone have an ID on her yet?"
"Right here," Nancy said as she bent over and picked up the wallet that had fallen from the victim's purse. She opened it and began to go through it. She found where some credit cards and ID's were kept. "Her name was Jennifer White." Nancy announced as Johnson scribbled it down in his notebook. Nancy continued to go through the wallet until she found another ID card that had been hidden beneath a secret flap. Nancy's face paled as she studied it.
United States Central Network, (USCN) Jennifer E. White- Rank: First Class Lieutenant- Title: Courier- Commanding Officer: Arthur Gray- DOB. . . . . .
*********
Music echoed throughout the Hardy household. Frank and Joe were hosting a Fourth of July party at their house and had invited their girlfriends, friends, and their friends' girlfriends. As well as some other people.
"Hey Frank!" Chet called from the refreshment table. "Do you have any more salsa in the kitchen?"
Frank grinned and rolled his eyes. Leave it to Chet to worry about food. "Yeah! I'll go grab some for you." Frank made his way to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of salsa. He then carried it to the refreshment table and handed it to Chet.
"Thanks," Chet said as he began to pour the contents into the salsa bowl.
Callie Shaw walked up to the table holding a cup. "Why aren't you dancing?" she asked Frank with a fake pout.
"Who said I wasn't?" Frank replied playfully.
Callie smiled, put her drink down, and held out her hand. "Then come on."
"It'll be my pleasure milady." Frank said as he took her hand and led her out to where everyone was dancing.
"So what have you been doing all summer?" Callie asked as they danced to a slow song.
"This and that," Frank replied evasively. He had taken a crash course called Network Agent Training (NAT) over the first month of the summer. They had learned to tail people, dig up info, defensive measures, strategic moves, how to use the equipment they would come into contact with as well as many other things. Then he had been flown to Washington D.C. where he was sworn in as a sort of under-justice to the Supreme Court. Basically, they had given him a bunch of blank warrants with the signature of one of the Supreme Court Justices. In order to make them valid they had to be filled out and then be counter signed by Frank. He could issue search warrants, arrest warrants, and gag orders. Those warrants would come in handy. There would be no need for breaking and entering again. At least within the United States. He had not had the opportunity to do so yet. He would have explained it all to Callie but there was a small catch. He couldn't tell hardly anyone that he was in the Network.
"That sounds interesting," Callie replied dryly.
Frank shrugged uncomfortably. "I guess so."
They continued to dance slowly until they were interrupted by Joe who was holding the cordless phone. He and some of the guys were busy watching some sports game or another downstairs. "Hey Frank! It's Fairchild, he wants to talk to you ASAP."
Frank broke away from Callie. "Sorry, but I have to take this call right now."
He walked across the room and took the phone from Joe. He then stepped into the empty kitchen so he could talk in privacy. "Hey Mr. Fairchild. What's up?"
"Nothing very good, I'm afraid," came Fairchild's voice.
"Oh?"
"Nancy discovered a body with her friends at a carnival in Chicago." Fairchild explained.
"How does that concern the Network?" Frank asked.
"The victim was a Network agent. A courier actually."
"So you want us to catch the murderer?" Frank asked as he opened a drawer and fumbled around for a notepad.
"That would be nice," Fairchild said. "However, Arthur and I are more interested in what she was carrying. Well, not exactly what. . . more like what the information she carried will lead to."
"So what do you mean?" Frank asked in a puzzled voice.
"It might help if I gave you a bit of background info first. During World War II there was an extensive underground spy movement against the Germans. Unfortunately the identity of one of our chief spies was compromised. The last thing he did before he was captured was to make a cache of information and valuables. The information contained the identity of other spies and enemy movements. It also contained the information as to the identities of several traitors within the CIA. No one but that chief spy knew their identities because we were playing them and feeding them false information. Some of those traitors could still be working in our intelligence agencies. We don't know who they are. The cache not only included valuables, but the locations of other caches. Basically the worth of that one cache is estimated to be worth several hundred millions."
"Wow," Frank said, "but how is that connected to a dead woman in Chicago?"
"The cache was known to exist by both sides. Despite that, its location has remained a mystery until now. One of our agents stumbled upon it. He sent the courier, Lieutenant White, she's the victim, to bring us information as to the location of the cache to us. Shortly after she left Marseilles, France, he died mysteriously. White was chased across the continent of Europe and then into the United States. She was to make contact somehow with someone in the Network tonight so that she could hand over the information. Whoever it was, the person was one of those traitors from World War II, or someone connected to them. She's dead, and whatever clue she was carrying is gone."
"Will they be able to find the cache?"
"Good insight Frank," Fairchild congratulated him. "They will want to find that cache before we do. Fortunately for us, White only had small clues to the location on her person, the rest was in her mind and we don't think she let it loose to anyone. I want you, Nancy, and Joe to look at all of White's belongings to check for potential clues and then go to Marseilles and find that cache before enemy agents get their hands on it. The cache will betray agents on both sides. We can't afford to let the enemy get their hands on it."
"We can do that." Frank said.
"Good," Fairchild replied. "I've taken the liberty to reserve seats on the next flight to Chicago for you. Nancy is currently in charge of the investigation. She's posing as a FBI agent, I want you to go and take charge. When you leave for France leave the local cops or local FBI office in charge. I'll see that you get more info once you arrive."
"We're packing right now!" Frank said. He said goodbye and hung up the phone. He walked to the head of the basement staircase. "Joe!" he called. "Pack your bags!"