A/N: Here it is, the make-up chapter for taking so long to update and for not updating until next Sunday due to vacation. Enjoy!
The Three Minute Deal
Chapter 20
Frank was confused. Even in his dreams, he knew that this shouldn't be happening. Nancy was safe, Ashley was safe and the bad guy was behind bars. 'Why is this happening?' he thought frantically to himself.
It was a different location. Gone was the small dark room from his childhood that had haunted his nightmares the last few nights, in its place was a dark warehouse, not unlike the one where Nancy had been held.
He was feeling the same overwhelming feelings of panic, which was how he knew that even though everyone was safe, his nightmares were not over. He stood in the center of the large parking garage underneath the warehouse and shivered despite the sweat that poured down his face. He could hear whimpering, someone was whimpering and he whirled around to try and find the source. The parking garage was too dark to see more than a few feet in front of him but he stumbled forward in what he hoped was the general direction of the source of the noise.
He stumbled along for a few minutes, occasionally losing his footing and falling to the hard cement floor. He was sure that the whimpering sound was coming closer, that he was getting closer to the source.
"Frank?" someone whispered to his right and he turned quickly to see who it was. "Frank, help me." His brother stared back at him through terrified eyes, blood matting his hair to his forehead. He was kneeling on the cold cement of the warehouse with his hands behind his back
"Joe!" Frank called and ran toward his brother. He fell to his knees in front of Joe and began to frantically search for injuries, "where are you hurt?"
"Frank," Joe began to sway, "get away…it's not safe."
"What?" Frank leaned in closer to try and hear his brother's voice.
"Get…away…" Joe turned scared eyes on his brother.
Frank looked up just in time to see a blurred hand reach out from the darkness, pointing a gun at the back of Joe's head. Before Frank could react the gun exploded and Joe's lifeless body toppled over into his arms.
Frank would never get used to waking up in a cold sweat with his sheets wrapped around his legs, even though it had been happening to him quite a bit lately. He sat up quickly, breathing heavily and noticed for the first time that Nancy was sitting up on her elbows, a worried expression on her face.
"Frank?" she asked carefully.
"Joe died," Frank said and shuddered, "he died. He shot him and he died in my arms." Frank pushed the covers off of him, suddenly resenting how claustrophobic they made him feel. "I have to call him," Frank babbled and leaned over to grab his phone. He barely noted the early hour as he punched in his brother's number.
"Hello?" Joe's voice was groggy and thick with sleep.
"Joe," relief crashed over Frank at hearing his brother's voice. "You're okay."
"I was, until you called and woke me up. What time is it?" Joe asked.
"Early," Frank replied, "way too early. I just needed to make sure you were okay."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone while Joe's sleep addled brain began to clear, "another nightmare?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," Frank shuddered as he remembered vividly the feeling of his brother's dead weight falling on him in the dark warehouse.
"Listen, Frank…do you want to talk about it?" Joe asked.
"No," Frank replied quickly, "No, I'm fine. I'll see you in a couple of hours." He hung up the phone and placed it back on his bed side table. He lay slowly down on his back and closed his eyes, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "you needed to sleep and I woke you up."
"I know, how incredibly selfish of you," Nancy replied and Frank opened his eyes quickly and looked at her, "I can't believe you would be so self centered that you would have a nightmare about the death of your brother and then have the gall to wake me up screaming. Really Frank, how could you." A small part of Nancy felt bad for kicking him while he was down, but she knew that now was the perfect opportunity to nail her point from earlier home.
Frank was silent for a moment and then sighed, "You're right." He pulled her into his arms, "you're right."
"Of course I am," Nancy agreed and laid her head in the crook of his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"You know the gist of it, but I can't talk about the details," Frank murmured and pulled the covers up around them. His calm voice betrayed his rapidly beating heart and Nancy lay listening to it until it finally started to slow down.
Later that morning Nancy got quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Frank up. She walked out to the kitchen and stifling a yawn began to make a pot of coffee. She was leaning against the counter taking that first wonderful sip when her phone began to ring. She grabbed it and answered it quickly, not wanting the sound to wake Frank.
"Hello?" she greeted the caller.
She was treated to a very angry diatribe, "your boyfriend and his brother severely undermined the integrity of the FBI and everything we stand for! That they should go gallivanting around behind our backs, completely disregarding our need for protocol is unacceptable! They need to learn that the Bureau is not about hot shot detectives out to prove that they're as good as their famous father, this isn't about personal vendetta's it's about doing what's right for the good of the country, not some personal mission to help save the love of your life," the man sneered, "you need to get better control of your men, Agent Drew. If their secret undercover operation had gone the other way last night we'd be having an entirely different conversation. It's bad enough that a civilian was shot during their little escapade."
The whole time the man was raving Nancy stood in shock, she wasn't used to being woken up this way. She cleared her throat as the anger started to build, "excuse me, who am I talking to?" she asked in a falsely sweet voice.
"This is Agent Meyers, I'm acting director for Agent Burr," the voice replied.
"I see," Nancy set her coffee cup down. She didn't want to accidentally throw it across the kitchen and waste perfectly good coffee, "well, Agent Meyers your opinion of the Hardy's successful rescue attempt is very interesting indeed. I would think that the Bureau would be thankful that the Hardy's accomplished what you could not. Did they not single handedly come up with a plan that not only found the correct warehouse," Nancy purposefully emphasized the word, "but also brought down a very wanted criminal? Please correct me if I am wrong, but I do believe that it is because of my boyfriend and his brother that a scared little girl has been returned to her father and I had a wonderful night sleeping in an actual bed. Now, tell me again how much the Hardy's messed up your brilliant plan to rescue me."
"You would speak to your superior in this way?" the man sounded utterly shocked.
"You forget I'm still technically on vacation. I'll speak to you however I like," Nancy replied coldly and then hung up her phone. She looked up to the doorway and saw Frank grinning at her, his hair mussed from sleep. "Good morning," Nancy said primly and picked up her coffee cup. She took an innocent sip and smiled as Frank walked over to grab a cup of his own.
"What," he finally said, "was that?"
"That was me, giving the FBI a piece of my mind," Nancy replied nonchalantly.
"Really?" Frank smiled, "I liked it. It's very attractive when you get all fired up like that."
"Thank you," Nancy said with an answering smile.
"Aren't you worried about getting in trouble for talking to them that way?" Frank asked.
Nancy shrugged, "not really, I've actually been thinking that perhaps the FBI isn't the job for me after all."
Frank was stunned, "really?"
"Yeah," Nancy replied simply, "I might try something else for awhile; maybe I'll take up knitting." Frank choked on his coffee, "after all," Nancy continued with a smile, "we'll be living together now and so you can support me. I could take up all sorts of crafting hobbies; I have a ton of pictures I'd like to scrapbook."
Frank laughed, "Whatever makes you happy." He cleared his throat and said slyly, "It was also pretty attractive hearing my woman stand up for me like that," Frank leaned against the counter and took a sip of his coffee. He groaned appreciatively, "oh, I missed your coffee making skills."
Nancy laughed, "Is that all you missed?"
Frank pretended to think long and hard, "now that you mention it. You do make a killer omelet."
Nancy roared with laughter and then kissed Frank's cheek, "I'll take the hint and make myself useful in the kitchen."
Pretty soon they were sitting down to a breakfast of hash browns and a southwestern style omelet. "I've been thinking," Frank said after taking a bite of egg, "we can grab Greg."
Nancy paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, "how?"
"We use Roman and Eric; get them to help us grab Greg when he gets into town. Get him to confess somehow," Frank shrugged, "it was actually my father's idea."
Nancy was silent, "we hardly have any time to come up with plan." Her eyebrows creased in concentration, "we wouldn't have any backup, there's no way this is going to be easy to work out." She paused for a moment, "it would make the FBI crazy."
"Yes," Frank agreed.
"Let's do it," Nancy's eyes gleamed, "I mean, how can we not try. It's the perfect opportunity to grab Greg and see if we can get him for all of those charges. The man is illusive. He's not running free just because there isn't enough hard evidence for the Scott-Reynolds case, he's a good runner. The FBI thinks he's been out of the country for several years."
"Let's call dad and Joe and get this thing worked out," Frank said quickly.
"Let's call Michael too," Nancy said and grabbed their plates to bring to the dishwasher.
"You want to involve the FBI?" Frank asked incredulously.
"No, but Michael is a good in. He'll help us if we need it and besides Roman is in FBI custody. If we're going to need him, we're going to need the FBI's cooperation. I have a feeling that I don't have that right now, but Michael does," Nancy loaded the dishes.
Frank nodded, "that makes sense. Let's do this then."
Nancy smiled, "yeah, let's do this."
"Are you ready?" Joe asked Eric, looking at the man in the rearview mirror. Eric nodded his skin pale and clammy. They were scheduled to pick Greg up at the small private airstrip in fifteen minutes; they were still waiting for his plane to arrive.
"Yeah," Eric swallowed audibly, "I sure hope this works. Greg isn't an idiot; he won't be as easily fooled as Roman was." Eric licked his lips nervously and tried not to think about the dull pain in his arm. The doctor had been furious when Eric had checked himself out of the hospital, but when Nancy and the Hardy's had approached him with their plan he knew he needed to try and help however he could.
"Don't worry Frank, Nancy and Michael are going to be following us and listening," Joe felt the wire he was wearing and couldn't help but feel very James Bond. "They'll know what's going on at all times."
Eric just nodded and looked out the window, "there's the plane." He pointed with his good arm at the small aircraft making its way onto the runway.
"Show time," Joe said and laughed, "I've always wanted to say that. It sounds so gunslinger melodramatic. Its show time," he repeated in a slow southern drawl.
Frank's voice crackled in Joe's ear, "I know you're not used to working with microphone's Joe so I'm going to give you a pass on that last comment. We can just chalk it up to an embarrassing moment where you weren't aware that anyone else was listening to you."
"Please be quiet," Joe responded happily, "I'm very busy and important right now. I'm going to be single handedly, with the help of our friend Eric here, bringing down one of the worst criminals in history in just a few moments."
Frank laughed in Joe's ear, "Only because you happened to win the argument."
"Paper covers rock every time," Joe responded gleefully. He was glad to be trading jibes with his brother and he knew that Frank was doing it for his benefit. He knew that Frank was extremely worried and worked up over Joe being the one to lure Greg Atkinson into a confession. He and his brother had fought vehemently for the role of driver until Joe had suggested the old standby, Rock Paper Scissors. Joe had won and Frank had been relegated to sitting in the van monitoring communications with Nancy.
Joe pulled his hat lower on his face and adjusted his sunglasses. The only drawback to this assignment he thought to himself was the need to wear a suit. He had insisted on getting one of those driver hats that you see limo drivers wearing all the time, he had wanted to complete the ensemble and hide his face, just in case Greg recognized him.
Joe drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently and watched the airplane taxi down the runway and come to a stop.
Greg Atkinson sat in the small airplane and examined his perfectly manicured nails. Not a speck of dirt or a wayward hangnail dared show itself on his perfect fingers. He didn't allow insubordination from anything…or anyone.
He glanced quickly at his watch and noted the time, they were right on schedule, just the way he liked it. His pilot had learned his lesson when he had delivered Greg to his destination ten minutes late. They were never late again.
The airplane phone rang and Greg gave a thought to letting it go. He didn't have time to be answering any more whiny phone calls. He was in the middle of fixing the last whiny phone call he had received from his idiotic brother Roman.
Finally, annoyed at the sound of the ringer Greg leaned forward, "what?"
"Sir, I have an urgent message for you," his secretary knew to get right to the point; "a Larry Sims needs to speak to you right away."
"Tell him I'm busy," Greg snarled, he didn't have time for this, he had a villa full of beautiful women to get back to.
"Sir, he says it's about Roman, he's been arrested."
This caught Greg's attention, "is he on the phone now?"
"Yes sir," she replied.
"Put him through," Greg ordered and watched as the pilot began their descent to the runway. He could see the limo he had requested waiting for him.
"Hello? Mr. Atkinson," a weedy voice said in his ear.
Greg cringed; he couldn't handle men who felt the need to constantly whine, "Yes, what do you know?"
"Roman's been arrested sir," the voice responded.
Greg clenched his teeth, "when?"
"Last night, I tried to call you earlier but you're a very difficult man to get a hold of," the voice was whiny again.
Last night? Greg was stunned, he had talked to Roman this morning and he had assured Greg that everything was fine. Greg clenched his fist: he had been set up. "What happened?" Greg said through the white hot fury that clouded his brain.
"I don't know, I was playing darts and I heard a noise. I went to investigate and this blonde kid, built like a quarterback came charging after me. Next thing I know I'm running for my life."
"Interesting," Greg said and hung up the phone. The plane taxied down the runway and he stared out the window, contemplating his next move.
Someone was going to pay, someone always paid.