I don't own these people. If I did I'd be living it up in Malibu or something like that. Since that is not the case, please enjoy my first addition to the fanfic universe. Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome.

Chapter One: A Late Night Flight

"How long is this flight?" Joe Hardy yawned and made a vain attempt to stretch his long legs in the cramped seat of the commercial airliner.

"About sixteen hours." Frank Hardy leaned forward looking across his brother out the window. The rain that had been pelting the plane on the tarmac was beginning to subside. He sighed to himself and turned back to his laptop where he was keeping on eye on the weather. The system of storms that had moved through New York the night before had caused a delay in their flight. They had been sitting in the plane on the runway for about an hour, and Frank was getting antsy.

"We're stopping in Lisbon, and then on to Ukraine."

Joe glanced at his watch. The numbers 1:45 A.M. glared at him. "Why so we always have to catch these flights in the middle of the night?" He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"We're on a schedule." Frank reminded his younger brother. "Time is of the essence."

"Yeah, yeah…" Joe finally settled down and leaned his head against the window. He closed his eyes and was soon snoring soundly.

Frank shook his head and turned back to his laptop. At the pilot's instructions he shut it down and put it away in preparation for takeoff. He eyed the file folder that contained the intel on their case. Neither he nor Joe had read it yet. They had decided that in the interest of secrecy they would wait to discuss it when the plane was well in the air and most of the passengers had nodded off themselves. He finally let his eyes drift close and soon dirfted off to sleep.

Four hours later, Frank started suddenly from his sleep by a cramp in his leg. At six foot one inches tall, he had to practically fold his legs like a card table, and his knees still pushed uncomfortably into seat in front of him. Glancing to the ceiling, he saw that the seatbelt sign was turned off, he stretched his long legs into the aisle, getting some less than approving looks from the attendants. Oh, well, he thought. Next to him, with his head against the window, Joe snored softly. Frank chuckled to himself; at least Joe was getting his precious beauty sleep.

He plugged in the headset to his iPod and began leafing through the file. The first page of the file was dossier of their target: one Michael Eastman. Eastman was an ex-marine who had gone into the CIA after the first Gulf War. His record was flawless both as a military man and a CIA agent. His wife and daughter had been killed in a car accident twelve years earlier. Eastman had been stationed in the Ukraine shortly after.

He glanced next to him as Joe shifted in his seat and slowly opened his eyes. He looked around briefly trying to remember where he was. He slumped in the seat and stretched his arms above his head. "Are we there yet?"

Frank snorted. "We've only been in the air about four hours."

"So, what have you got so far?"

"This guy's been blackmailing the CIA since they gave him his burn notice three weeks ago."

"What kind of blackmail?"

Joe waved over one of the attendants, and they both ordered a cup of coffee. After she dropped off the two cups, they returned to the file.

"After he got burned, he wanted out of the country. The CIA was not very cooperative. Two days ago, they got a message from him stating that he had a list of the all the undercover agents in Eastern Europe and would sell them to the highest bidder."

"Wow." Joe blew cool air into his coffee. "Three weeks isn't very long to pull this kind of blackmail together. I mean a list of undercover agents? That would take some time to get together."

Frank nodded. "He must have known that they were going to blacklist him. He was ready."

"Wonder why they burned him?"

"They conveniently left that information out of the file."

Joe sipped his coffee. "Any family?"

"Says his wife and daughter were killed in a car accident twelve years ago, no other known family."

"So, what's first when we get there?"

Frank pulled out another slip of paper. "We have a room at a hotel in Kiev when we land, and a car. Then it's just a matter of asking around. The CIA's intel shows that Eastman's had some activity around there. We'll start with his last known address."

"So, all we have to do is find this guy, right?" Joe stretched his legs again.

"And the disk, the CIA will handle his extraction."

"Why didn't they just find him themselves?"

Frank put the file away as passengers around them began to stir. "This guy's in the Marines and the CIA. They thought anyone they sent in would get made as soon as they started snooping. I guess we're less likely to be pegged as international spies."

Suddenly Frank looked up as he felt a tapping on his shoulder. A very attractive flight attendant whose name tag read Tiffany stood behind him with a food cart. She smiled prettily. Caught off guard, Frank smiled back, trying not to blush. Without a word, she pointed into the aisle where Frank's feet rested. Suddenly feeling very stupid, he quickly slid his feet out of the aisle and into their previously cramped position.

"Sorry," he muttered, feeling his face burning.

The attendant continued smiling as she pushed the cart past them preparing to serve breakfast. Beside him, he heard Joe snicker. "Smooth, big brother. Real smooth."

Frank sank down into his seat and crossed his arms. "Shut up."

Sixteen hours and a brief stop in Portugal later, the Hardys had dropped their luggage off at their hotel room and picked up their rental the Agency had waiting for them. Now they were parked outside Eastman's last known address, waiting for any sign of their target.

The block was pretty quiet considering the late hour. More apartment buildings lined the street. They were on the outskirts of Kiev now, so the lights of the city had faded into a few street lamps that dotted the road. Frank was sure that not many tourists made it out to this part of town. It wasn't exactly run down, but there was a definite difference when compared to the well-manicured parks and pristine streets of central Kiev.

On the corner, a small bar was identified by its brightly lit neon signs in windows. Every now and then, Frank would see people going in or leaving. He imagined it was more of a local hang out.

Joe sat in the passenger seat resting his head on the head rest, his eyes close. "You know as well as I do that this guy would not be stupid enough to keep the disk at his place and if he's blackmailing the CIA, I'm guessing that he's not going to be staying here anymore either."

Frank drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the gray sedan that they had procured. "I know." He knew that his brother was not built for stakeouts. Joe wanted action. "Okay, hot shot, what do you say we go up there and do a little snooping?"

Joe's head snapped up, his eyes wide open now. "Now, you're speaking my language."

The boys got out of the car and moved quietly to the front door of the apartment building. As they moved down the empty, barely lit hall way, they could hear soft music or noise from the television coming from the apartments as they passed each door.

On one occasion Joe stopped in front of room 122 when they heard loud voices coming from within. He pressed his ear against the door and listened as a man and a woman were yelling in from what he could tell was some kind of Russian dialect. The fight appeared to be escalating and Joe began to wonder if he might need to interrupt to keep someone from getting hurt. Suddenly the noise stopped. Joe glanced at Frank who shrugged. A loud thump against the door made Joe jump back. He was about to knock when he began to hear moaning and unmistakable sound of clothes being removed. Pressing his ear back to the door, he listened for a moment longer then grinned at his brother.

"I think they're making up." He whispered.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Come on. We're wasting time."

They continued down the hall to where they corridor made a sharp turn. As they neared the corner, Frank saw a door leading to the stairwell. They made quick work of the four flights of stairs and soon found themselves standing in front of room 413.

"This is it." Frank announced.

As before, Joe pressed his ear against the door, trying to distinguish any sounds. There was nothing but silence. He stood back and rapped loudly on wood. No sign of movement came from within the apartment.

An older man, maybe forty, suddenly rounded the corner in a big hurry. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the Hardys. His eyes grew wide and his face paled. He obviously didn't expect to find them there. After a moment, he sprinted down the hallway, bumping into Frank nearly knocking him down.

"Hey." Joe yelled after him, but the man had disappeared into the stairwell.

"I wonder what that was about."

Frank was thoughtful. "That was odd." Then he shrugged. "Let's wonder about it later. I just want to get this over with."

Joe nodded and positioned himself to the right of the door as Joe knocked again. Receiving no response he tried again. Nothing. He stooped low, removing a paper clip from his pocket and quickly bent it out of shape so he could stick it into the lock. He moved the paper clip around and tried the knob without success. He glanced at his brother who rolled his eyes.

"I wish Nancy were here. We'd be done searching the room by know."

Joe stuck his tongue out and went back to work on the lock. "The only reason you want Nancy here is so that you can look at her goods while she's bent over messing with this thing. Ow!" Joe shouted as Frank kicked him sharply in the hip. "I'm just saying, Frank. I mean, that's what I do when she's busy picking locks. Ow! Will you quit that?"

Finally, they heard a click, and Joe looked up at his brother in triumph. "Don't replace me with that red headed vixen just yet." He turned the knob and the door swung open.

Joe let out a low whistle as he entered the living room. The lights were on and the sparsely furnished room had been torn apart. The sofa cushions had been shredded to pieces. The curtains had been ripped down. The living room opened into a small kitchen/dining area that had also been thoroughly searched. All the cabinets were opened with a few dirty dishes strewn about.

"Wow." Was Frank's response as he stood behind his brother.

"Looks like someone had the same idea that we did." Joe commented.

Frank walked to the kitchen table that had papers covering the top. "Yeah, but who?" On top of the pile of papers rested an 8x 10 black and white photograph that caught Frank's eye. He recognized the man in the picture as Eastman. He was standing in front of Sea World with a young girl, about eight years old, sitting on his shoulders. Eastman's daughter, he surmised. They looked so happy. Frank was drawn into the picture by the girl; her almond shaped eyes sparkled as she gave her best toothy grin.

"Whatcha got there?" Joe looked over his shoulder. His brother handed him the photo.

"Eastman's daughter?" Frank nodded. "You know what? She kind of looks like Nancy."

The older Hardy took the picture back and gave it a good look. His brother was right. The little girl on their target's shoulders looked like a younger version of their friend, Nancy Drew. He smiled as visions of a young Nancy running around with her lock picking kit and magnifying glass.

"I wonder if the guys that broke in here were looking for same thing we are." Joe said thoughtfully as he moved back into the living room.

Without really knowing why, Frank folded up the photo and put it in his pocket. "Well, do we assume that they found what they were looking for, or not?"

"We've decided that Eastman wouldn't be dumb enough to leave the disk here, so, if that's what they were looking for, they probably didn't find it."

Frank nodded. "I hope we're right."

"What if they were just looking for Eastman?" Joe looked around for any signals that they had left with the CIA agent.

"It's possible. But if they had him, why go through the trouble of tearing up the place."

"Maybe he wouldn't talk."

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. There were too many variables here. They needed more information, but his main concern now was that they were now dealing with an unknown element. Someone else wanted Eastman. Frank wanted to know why.

After searching the apartment to see if anything was missed by the first set of intruders, the boys left the apartment building to regroup.

"What now?" Joe slumped back into his seat in the car.

Frank stared out the windshield for a moment. "We need to ask around. See if someone knows where he might be."

Suddenly the front door of the apartment complex opened and a man walked quickly out into the street. He pulled the collar of his overcoat securely behind his ears as he glanced up and down the street. He looked afraid. Finally, the man darted up the street and into the bar on the corner. Frank recognized him immediately.

"That's the guy from upstairs. And he looks like he's in big hurry."