Author's Note:

Thank you all for your positive reviews. Please continue to tell me what you think. Enjoy the next two chapters!

Bess smacked Joe again. "It's a good thing she has no muscle," Joe said as he shrugged off the blow. "Ouch!" he yelped as George slugged him hard in the arm.

"Speak," she commanded.

"Alright, alright," Joe held up his hands in surrender. "Basically it was like Bess said. There was lots of torture equipment." He paused. "There was also a filing cabinet full of files."

"What was in them?" George prompted.

Joe grimaced. "Let's just say that the owner of the torture equipment was fond of documenting his work," he told them.

"What kind of sicko does that?" Bess shuddered at the thought.

"One who is going to jail for a very long time when we catch him," Joe answered grimly. "I'm having an evidence team go over the house as we speak," he added.

"Good," Frank approved.

"And what have you been up to?" Joe wanted to know.

"Well," Frank replied, turning back to the computer setup, "I ran background checks on our two pursuers." He hit some keys and the two men's files flashed on the screen.

"Anything interesting?" Joe asked after glancing at the screen.

"Nothing that we didn't already suspect," Frank told him. "Rocco Balistreri and Vincent Scott are suspected hit men for the Scinelli crime family."

"What about our buddy Officer Hanson?" Joe wanted to know.

"Nothing popped in his background check," Frank answered, "but I'm having Nancy pull his personnel record."

"What about his bank records?" Joe wanted to know. "Anything suspicious there?"

"I haven't got around to that yet," Frank said. "I'll do that now." He began typing furiously into the computer array. Moments later, long columns of financial transactions began to scroll on the screen.

"That's interesting," Joe said as he pointed to the screen. "He has been receiving regular deposits of $9,980."

"On every Friday," George added as she peaked over Frank's shoulder.

"That's just under the $10,000 limit for reporting to the IRS," Frank observed.

"So he doesn't want anybody to know about that money," Bess concluded.

"He isn't the brightest crayon in the box," Joe said with a sad shake of his head. "What ever happened to criminals that were smart enough to hide their ill gotten gains in off shore bank accounts?"

"Hey," Frank cautioned, "don't complain. I don't mind the bad guys making my job easy."

"So what is our next move?" George wanted to know.

"Well, I'm going to check and see if Codes Division has had any luck cracking Fanelli's little black book," Frank said. "And then I think we'll pick up Officer Hanson and ask him a few questions." Frank picked up his phone and pressed a speed dial number.

"Agent Nelson, Codes Division," a crisp female voice came on the line.

"This is Frank Hardy," he identified himself.

"Good afternoon, sir," Agent Nelson greeted him. "How are you today?"

"Not too bad," Frank answered.

"What can I help you with?"

"I was just wondering if you had made any progress on that notebook I dropped off earlier," Frank said.

"Not yet, sir," Agent Nelson replied apologetically. "In fact, I think it might be a good idea for the specialists in D.C. to take a look at it."

"That bad, huh?"

"I'm afraid so."

"In that case, I want you to hand carry it to D.C. on the Learjet," Frank instructed.

"Yes, sir," Nelson agreed. "I'll leave at once."

"Great." Frank quickly ended the call. "You ready to make Mr. Hanson sweat?" Frank asked his brother.

"Let's do it," Joe said with a grin. The brothers began to walk towards the garage.

"What about me?" George protested.

"Sorry." Frank shrugged. "It's your turn to babysit your cousin." The brothers dashed out the door before anything could be thrown at them.

As the Hardys pulled out of the garage in Frank's Challenger, Frank dialed the captain for Officer Hanson's precinct.

"And what can I do for you today, Agent Hardy?" Captain Morrison asked after Frank had identified himself.

"We need to speak to your Officer Hanson, badge number 58925, about an investigation we're conducting," Frank answered.

"And what investigation would that be?" Morrison wanted to know.

"I cannot reveal those details," Frank said apologetically. "But I can tell you that it pertains to national security. Do you know where I can find Hanson right now?"

"Let me check the schedule," Morrison replied, not sounding too happy with Frank's answer. "It looks like he got off about an hour ago. You can probably find him at home."

"And what is that address?" Frank asked.

The captain read off the address and Frank punched it into his car's GPS system.

"Thank you very much, Captain," Frank said as he ended the call.

"Turn right at the next intersection," the computerized GPS voice instructed.

"Yes, ma'am," Frank replied jokingly as he made the turn.

Fifteen minutes later, Frank drove slowly past Officer Hanson's address. "What do you think?" he asked Joe.

"No way he affords this address on a cop's salary," Joe decided.

"I agree," Frank said. "Well, shall we rattle his cage?"

"Sounds like a plan," Joe answered as Frank parked the car. The brothers climbed out of the sports car and backtracked to Hanson's large house. They strolled up to the front door and Joe pounded on it.

"Who's there?" Hanson yelled.

"Officer Hanson, this is the FBI!" Joe yelled. "Open up!" He pounded on the door some more.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Hanson called back as he unlocked the door. He opened the door. "Don't I know you?" he asked as he squinted at the Hardys. "You're the feds that came by while I was on duty earlier, aren't you?"

"Give the man a gold star," Joe replied sarcastically.

"Officer Hanson, may we come in?" Frank asked.

"What is this about?" the crooked police officer asked nervously.

"We would rather speak to you inside," Frank pressed.

"Do you have a warrant?" the man replied.

"Under the Patriot Act," Joe said with a mean grin, "we do not need a warrant when we have reason to believe that the suspect is involved in terrorism." Joe was not being completely honest. They did not really believe that Hanson was a terrorist, but at the same time they did not need a warrant since they were working for the Network.

"Terrorism?" Hanson squeaked. "I'm not a terrorist!"

"Then you have nothing to hide," Frank said as he pushed past the man. Joe quickly followed him and Hanson was left sputtering in the doorway. He reluctantly closed the door and joined them in the living room.

"What do you want?" he asked again.

"Sit down," Joe ordered.

"But…"

"Sit. Down." Joe's tone of voice left no room for argument. Hanson obeyed.

"Now," Frank began. "Would you like to tell us why two gentlemen with automatic weapons tried to kills us minutes after we saw you last?"

Hanson swallowed nervously. "I don't know what you are talking about," he replied.

Frank leaned down and pushed his nose right in the cop's face. Hanson shrunk back. "Oh?" Frank said. "We'll see." He turned his head and spoke to Joe. "Did you bring the pliers?" he asked.

"Right here," Joe answered, holding up the tool.