Chapter 28

"Angie, isn't it?" Fenton asked as he and Con pushed through to the reception area at Compute-Soft.

She looked up from her typing and a man who was using the photocopier tipped his head slightly to listen. "Yes. Hello Mr..." her face suddenly opened up with recognition. "Weren't you here yesterday? Wasn't it you who helped Ben and the people in that car?" The man behind now began openly to listen having turned all the way around.

"Yes, that was us. I'm Mr Hardy..." he offered his palm towards Con, "and this is Mr Riley.

"Your poor eye, did you get that yesterday?"

Fenton touched his face self consciously. "Sort of. We're here to see Mr Bale." He patted his top pocket to ensure his sunglasses were there.

She started clicking on her mouse and navigating Lawrence Bale's electronic diary while throwing them interested little looks, her attention settling for the longest time on Fenton. "Is Mr Bale expecting you?" She asked eventually, squinting at the screen and panning up and down Bale's appointment calendar.

"I doubt it, but we know the secret password," Con answered dryly. She looked up to come face-to-face with his and Fenton's matching FBI badges.

Stunned, she stammered. "Erm...I...I'll just phone up and let Mr Bale's secretary know you're—"

"Let's not spoil the surprise," Fenton said cheerfully. "Can you show us where he is."

"I'm not allowed to leave the reception desk. I'll get into trouble."

"You can this once, honey. I guarantee you won't get into any trouble." He winked at her, making her smile stupidly.

Con turned to the man who had forgotten about his copying. "Sir, seems you're so keen to help, keep your eye on the desk for five minutes, huh?"

Angie came meekly from behind and led them to the elevator, the two men flanking her like bodyguards as they stood in silence waiting, Fenton fighting the urge to start literally stamping his foot.

Waiting...a thing Fenton hated more than anything in the world...the waiting game, uncontrollable delays, adjournments. He wanted answers now and these constant delays were driving him slowly insane. Fenton knew the first twenty-four hours were imperative in any missing person's life and failure to locate someone in that timeframe diminished the probability of finding them alive significantly. It was one of life's cruel ironies that the option of involving the police was impossible until Frank had been missing for twenty-four hours anyway – and then only if the absence was deemed suspicious...seventy-two hours being the usual timeframe for a missing adult.

"Tick...tock...tick..."

The CCTV footage Stan had gleaned from the recorder inside his booth had proven unhelpful, even after watching it through twice carefully, panning backwards and forwards through the most significant parts.

It showed a seemingly intoxicated Frank with a man neither Fenton nor Con recognised. The man steered Frank by the upper arm to an unremarkable car with an indiscernible plate number, chatting to him the whole way and only stopping when Stan approached them.

At no time did Frank seem to be objecting, in fact, he seemed quite happy and even waved goodbye to Stan when the man nudged him. The final act, before driving serenely from the building, was for the stranger to guide Frank into the passenger seat and help attach his seat belt – help being the operative word as Frank could only manage a ham-fisted attempt.

If Con and Fenton had not discovered the collection of shallow indentations in the elevator walls, and if Frank had not appeared unusually mentally vague and physically uncoordinated, the detectives would have been forgiven in believing Fenton's oldest had been quite happy to accompany that man.

Indeed, in the footage, Stan had been so unconcerned that he had returned to his booth at the point of the car driving up the ramp and had not been able to identify the direction the car had gone.

"Tick...tock...tick...tock..."

On the journey over to Compute-Soft, Con had outlined his theory that the Hardys were being targeted by someone using the situation with Vanessa as a convenient façade. Fenton admitted he had been thinking along the same lines himself. Felt it was too much of a coincidence that he had been injured, a bomb planted in Joe's car, and Frank was now missing.

Con had asked him the customary 'cop question': "Have you any enemies that might want to hurt you or the boys – Laura even?"

Fenton had snorted: "How long a list to you want, Zarkof? Bad guys do not take kindly to being locked up and the boys have collected their fair share of foes over the years too. It would take hours to pull a list together – hours Frank doesn't have."

"Tick...tock...tick...tock..."

The only other avenues of investigation open to them now were questioning Lawrence Bale, and then if need be, Joe…but only as a last resort. Fenton and Con shared the gut feeling that Bale must be involved in Frank's disappearance, even if only by association, so he wasn't going to be let off the hook any time soon.

If Bale had some information, Fenton would get it out of him. One way or the other.

"Tick...tock...tick...tock..."

And if Lawrence Bale failed to come through for them, the only unavoidable option left was to ask Joe whether he recognised the guy Frank had gone off with. That would mean having to admit to Joe that they had systematically lied to him – even though they had made a specific agreement never to do that to one another again.

Fenton would rather not have to do that, he did not want to push Joe any further. Joe should be allowed to rest and recover…Joe should be allowing himself to rest and recover. Especially after the way he had collapsed into Fenton's arms at the hospital, babbling inconsolably about how terrified of losing Frank and Vanessa he had become, and how he had failed as a brother over the last few months – unable to get Frank to open up until he had had to get violent as frustration reigned at Frank's refusal to share. About how conflicted Joe's feelings towards his brother were, how Joe felt he was falling apart, becoming a nervous wreck.

"Tick...tock...FLAMIN'...tick...FLAMIN'...tock…"

Every avenue Fenton ventured into to find Frank seemed to be leading nowhere, dead ends at every turn.

Fenton felt something touch his arm and looked down to find it was Con's hand. He had been so engrossed in thought that he had not registered the elevator's arrival, or heard Con talking to him. "Sorry," he muttered.

At the second level, they stepped out of the elevator and Angie led them towards Bale's room, but before they took more than a few steps, someone opened the office's door and exited, turning to walk towards them. It was a short, portly man with receding red hair, the man from the photograph, Mr Bale.

"Mr Bale, these two gentlemen are here to see you, Sir." Angie said.

He stopped and gave them a barely curious quick once over – doing a double take at Con – before discourteously and without actually acknowledging their presence began interrogating Angie. "Young lady, why aren't you at your desk? You know the protocol, my Secretary should always be called first."

Angie went crimson.

Fenton shared a look with Con whose face bore the look of, "Who is this clown?"

"I'll ask you to return these two gentlemen to reception and take their details and I'll have Elaine contact them in due course." Finally he decided to include the two strangers standing with his receptionist in the conversation. "Sorry gentlemen. I'll ask you to make an appointment before you cold-call in the future. Angie, you can be sure we'll speak about this later, you've overstepped the acceptable mark."

Fenton's eyebrow shot painfully up, and Con elevated himself even more than his six feet three frame already allowed. Vanessa had not been exaggerating about this man, he was a jerk of the highest order, and a bully.

Angie was doing more than just going red now, she was upset and humiliated. Mr Bale had not kept his voice down.

Fenton planted his hand against her shoulder and stepped slightly in front, Con independently making the same movement.

Leaning closer to Mr Bale, Fenton addressed him in a low voice. "I suggest you thank this young woman for not making a scene when we insisted she bring us up here, considering we're going to be asking you about some discrepancies with your accounts..."

"...amongst other things," Con growled, finishing the speech for Fenton and thrusting his FBI badge in Bale's face. Unlike Fenton, he was not keeping his voice low. "Apologise to the girl for, what I'm sure, was your unintentional rudeness, and have the courtesy of using her name this time. You know what it is, don't you – you must see her every morning? It's on her name badge if you're unsure."

Bale blinked a few times and then said in a strained voice. "I apologise Angie, I didn't realise."

Con made a circular motion with this finger, "Turn around Mr Bale and go back the way you just came, unless of course you'd prefer to walk out through the front door in handcuffs to accompany us to the precinct?"

Fenton's mouth kinked up. Con playing hard ball was one of his favourite things, especially when his friend was bluffing – he had no shame! They couldn't take Bale 'to the precinct', they were not even on a case for the government this time. Not that Chief of Police Collig would have minded, being a personal friend an' all.

Bale did as he was told. He turned and headed away from them, his cheeks burning beet red, Con dogging his steps.

Fenton squeezed Angie's shoulder and kindly smiled. "You can go back downstairs now, Honey. You won't have any more problems, we'll take care of things."

"Thank you," she whispered in awe and half turned, then was swinging back to ask him a question, "are you related to Ben, he looks a lot like you?"

"Good lookin' dude, isn't he? I'm his father, and his name isn't really Ben, it's Frank."

"Frank's lucky."

Then she did leave for the elevator and Fenton was hurrying to catch up with Con, just getting there in time to see his friend's back entering the inner office with Bale. Elaine was watching them with a look of overwhelming curiosity. Then she turned at sensing Fenton there and her eyes widened slightly.

"Ben!...I mean...oh."

"No, I'm not Ben, I'm Ben's dad."

"Really?"

"Obvious, isn't it?" Fenton asked, indicating to his face and flashing a perfect smile at her.

"Yes."

"You're Elaine aren't you? Very pleased to meet you, Elaine. Ben has talked about you a lot."

"He has?" Elaine could not keep the surprise out of her voice, or the pleasure off her face that Ben should be talking about her to his family. The fact that what Frank had said might not have been entirely complimentary had not entered her head.

Fenton went to the coat stand and took down her suit jacket. "Listen, Elaine, as pleasurable as it is to meet you at last, me and my partner are having a confidential meeting with Mr Bale and he said you should take an early lunch – take Angie with you, go shopping or something."

"Really?" She got up from her chair and went into Mr Bale's doorway. "Is that really okay with you, Mr Bale?"

Bale looked up from staring at his knees from his place at his meeting table. His lip twitched and his eyes darted up to Con who was still glowering down at him. "Yes Elaine. Take an early lunch."

"Yes, go on, enjoy yourselves," Fenton encouraged and helped her into her blue jacket before taking her to the outside door and ushering her out with more encouraging noises and another round of movie star lazy grins. The second the door was shut his smile was gone and he headed into Mr Bale's inner sanctum.

Con was now sitting across from Bale and Fenton felt his gaze following him as he went about silently shutting down all the blinds to ensure they had total privacy.

Earlier, he had carefully gone over with Con how they were going to handle this. Part one had already been successfully accomplished. Fenton had enchanted everyone on the way in, and then Con had done the hard-nosed stuff. Now it was time for part two of his charm offensive.

Fenton dropped down the final blind and then turned and, hooked his foot on Bale's chair leg and upended the entire thing sending Bale tumbling to the ground. Then he bent close and grabbed Bale's jowly jaw in his fist. "Where's my son?" he hissed.

"Your so…son?" Bale stammered.

Con was on his feet, taken entirely by surprise at this turn of events. "Er, Fen?"

Fenton flared up at his friend, "Don't interfere!" he ordered and turned back to Bale. "So far you've fraud to contend with, money laundering, assault, blackmail, attempted murder. Do you really want to add kidnapping to that lengthening list?"

Bale put his palms up, clearly frightened out of his wits and attempted to answer, his voice made ridiculous by the shape his mouth was being forced into by Fenton's gradually tightening fingers. "Wh...wha'? No...I'll ab-mit to fraun-d an' money launderin', bu' ...the udder t'ings? Wha' are yo' talkin' abou'?"

Fenton bared his teeth, his other hand making a fist. "Think quick, or I swear to god I'll beat the information out of your slimy mouth!"