Wow. I can't believe I'm finally writing another author's note! It's about damn time! :-)

So this is just a short post - barely a chapter, I know. But there's good news! I FINALLY HAVE A ROUGH DRAFT OF THE REST OF THE STORY WRITTEN! I'm not quite happy with the ending yet, but that's what editing is for.

Oh, yeah, and I will be posting it. And not at the rate of a measly chapter every month or six. I assume you probably care even more about that.

I do apologize for the long hiatus. As some of you have wondered, I have been having some problems with my health. Nothing so serious as cancer, never fear, but it's amazing how debilitating dealing with illness can be. And then, when I finally had the energy to pick the story again, I was in a totally different place, mentally, and I just couldn't seem to figure out how to actually write again. I am profoundly grateful to my husband for the months of encouraging, cajoling, and bribing me with homemade hot chocolate to get me writing again. I also owe a huge debt to the fantastic, amazing, and incredibly talented Lady Emily for agreeing to be my beta/cheerleader. If you haven't read her stories, go read them now.

Lastly, but certainly not least, I owe every single one of you who has rnead, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this story. It means more to me than words can say that so many people have enjoyed this story, and so I'll say "thank you" in the best way I know how - by finishing and posting the rest of it. I hope you enjoy the rest of the ride!

So buckle your seatbelts, because here we go...

Chapter 25

"So Johnson confessed to everything?"

It was the following evening, and all four detectives – Nancy, Frank, Joe, and Goldstein – were driving down the highway towards the abandoned school that they now knew served as the Petrucellis' headquarters. The previous twenty four hours had been filled with classic hurry-up-and-wait action. First, they had had to wait for Goldstein to finish with the raid before they could fill him on what they had learned – information which his own observations during the raid had corroborated, and which gave him enough proof to go to Agent Graham. Then they had been stuck waiting again, since Goldstein wouldn't be able to talk to Graham until the following morning. Then they had to wait for Goldstein to join them at their hotel, only to have Goldstein refuse to answer their questions until they had all piled into the Hardys' van and were en route to the old school Nancy had found. By then Joe was practically climbing out of his skin, and Nancy was only slightly better. Frank had finally threatened to tie them both up and leave them at the hotel. Now Joe was speeding down the road while listening to Nancy grill her partner about every last detail of his conversation with Graham. In the passenger seat, Frank was listening just as intently.

Goldstein sighed. "Yeah, that's what Graham said. I don't think he really believed it until she confessed. When I first told him about her being a double agent, he nearly laughed in my face."

Joe couldn't see Nancy, but he could clearly hear her frustration as she echoed Goldstein's sigh. "I don't blame him," she said. "I heard her voice answering that cell phone last night, and I still can't quite believe it."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes being in this business is a real bitch."

"Yeah." Nancy was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was in a forced, chipper tone. "So, what did Graham say when you told him I was actually alive?"

Goldstein chuckled mischievously. "I decided it would be more entertaining to let you tell him yourself. Think about how great the look on his face will be when he sees you get out of the car. Ow! There's no need to be violent."

"Like I could hurt you, you big ox. I can't believe you told Graham about Frank and Joe but left out your own partner."

"You said that one of the reasons Graham didn't listen to you was that you kept your sources anonymous. When he asked me where I got my information, I told him. Honestly, the way he was hitting me with question after question, I was barely able to keep my thoughts organized." Goldstein paused and winked at Joe's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "And anyhow, is it really surprising that the gay guy talks about the hot guys before the pretty girl?"

Joe felt his ears flaming, and Nancy's chuckle didn't help. Joe wondered how he had ever thought the guy was straight. Not that he minded that Goldstein thought he was attractive; it was just strange to know that another guy thought of him that way.

"Um, Joe?" said Frank, interrupting Joe's thoughts. "Don't you think you should slow down?"

"I'm only doing fifteen miles over the speed limit," Joe replied, genuinely surprised.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Let me put it differently. If a cop pulls us over for speeding, do you really want to have to explain why all four of us are so well armed?"

Joe grumbled, but he slowed down. He hated when Frank was right.

"Explain to me again why Graham is letting Johnson come along on this raid?" Frank said, ignoring his brother.

"He thinks Johnson's assistance will help us get in the front door without a full-on shoot out," Goldstein replied. It was a tactic law enforcement used sometimes – allowing someone who was trusted by the criminals, but who was cooperating with law enforcement, to make the initial approach – but Joe felt nervous about it. Sometimes the trick worked, and sometimes all it did was give the bad guys a warning. Trusting a double agent was like trusting a snake with two heads. One of them was bound to bite you.

"Where are we meeting them?" Nancy asked.

"There's a bend in the road, a little before it dead-ends at the old school," Goldstein replied. "Graham said he'd be waiting for us there."

Joe frowned to himself. Something about that statement bothered him; he was missing something, he knew it. In the passenger seat, Frank wore an identical frown.

"There they are," said Goldstein, leaning between the two front seats to point at two figures a little ways down the road. Joe slowed, curious for his first glimpse of the two FBI agents he had heard so much about. The midday light glinted off of Graham's grimly set face, casting harsh shadows over his dark brown skin. He looked like a statue planted on the side of the road. In contrast, Johnson was a pale, square-ish woman who looked like she was trying not to fidget. Joe grimaced. This was the woman who was going to help them bluff their way into a mob headquarters? She didn't look like she could bluff her way out of a paper bag.

As Joe pulled up, Graham motioned him to park between two of the three unmarked cars parked on the side of the tree-lined road. Joe moved forward obediently, then blinked as the car furthest to the right backed up and pulled up behind him, effectively boxing him in.

"What the…" began Goldstein, twisting around in his seat. He never got to finish. Suddenly, car doors were slamming open all around them and men were pouring out, surrounding the Hardys' van. Before Joe knew what had happened, he was staring down the barrel of an AK-47. He turned his head to look at Graham, only to find the FBI agent pointing a service revolver straight at his head.

"Out of the car, hands up!" Graham barked.

"What now?" Joe asked the others quietly, slowly raising his hands from the wheel but tensed for action.

"There are seven of them, including Graham and Johnson," Frank said softly. "All armed. I think we've been had."

Behind them, Joe could hear Nancy cursing softly in the backseat. She quieted abruptly as Goldstein whispered something to her, too quietly for Joe to hear. Then they were getting out of the car, and Joe was face to face with Graham and Johnson.

"Drop your guns," Graham ordered, his own gun inches from Joe's face. Joe had no choice but to comply. Next to him, he heard his brother and Goldstein doing the same. It was only then that he realized Nancy had stayed in the car. His heart pounded. Would someone notice? The van's windows were tinted almost black; she might have remained hidden as they drove up, and they still thought she was dead...

"You son of a bitch," Goldstein growled. "It was you all along, wasn't it?"

A trace of a smile flickered over Graham's face. "It was both of us, actually, but yes – I was working for the Petrucellis first."

Goldstein's hands were balled into massive fists. "No wonder we never got anywhere," he said flatly.

Graham arched an eyebrow at Goldstein. "Plenty of investigations fail. If you had only been able to keep that nosy partner of yours in line, no one would have been the wiser."

"If you hadn't had Drew killed, I never would have started investigating you," Goldstein shot back.

Joe heard a small gasp as Johnson whipped her head around to stare at Graham. He filed her reaction away for future reference.

"That girl was probably going to get herself killed sooner or later. I just … had to move the time table up." Graham shook his head with what looked like sincere regret. "It's a pity, really. She was naïve, but she was a decent agent."

"You bastard!" Frank suddenly spat, glaring at the other man. Graham smiled slightly again, and then rammed his gun into Frank's stomach. Frank doubled over, gasping. Joe flinched despite himself. Stomach wounds were nasty. A flicker of pressure from Graham's trigger finger and Frank would die an agonizing death.

"I don't know which brother you are," Graham said softly, "and I don't care. You're only alive right now because I want you that way. I've already violated my oath as an FBI officer. Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't shoot." Frank managed a tight nod, and Graham lowered his weapon, nodding in satisfaction. "Tie them up and bring them inside," he ordered, then walked away without a backwards glance.

Whoops! Forgot to put the disclaimer at the beginning. Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys are not mine.