J.M.J.
A/N: Thank you all so much for continuing to read this story! I really appreciate all your support and encouragement, particularly when you favorite, follow, and/or review. To that end, thank you especially to Cherylann River, ErinJordan, max2013, Caranath, Highflyer, and Candylou for your reviews on chapter 27 and to drogorath for your reviews on previous chapters!
I posted chapter 27 very soon after chapter 26, so if you missed it, be sure to go back and read it before reading this one.
Chapter XXVIII
A Place to Remember
Joe glanced from Collig to Olaf as they faced the two FBI agents in front of them. He realized that they could be in as much trouble as he was over this – maybe even more since Joe thought he had a good chance of being acquitted even if he did get arrested.
If Collig was thinking about that, his calm demeanor didn't show it. "We've been continuing our investigation of Rhonda Marrow's murder. We've satisfied ourselves that Joe Hardy is not responsible and that the arrest warrant was issued prematurely. We've located two other suspects who appear more probable. One is currently in custody, and the other has committed suicide, according to eyewitness accounts. Of course, we'll be investigating that death as well."
"And who are these suspects?" Agent Bramer crossed her arms and gave the chief a skeptical glance. "Your terrorists?"
"Which," Agent Thorson hastened to add, "are our primary interest. If the terrorists are involved in the Marrow murder, then that case becomes our concern. For the moment, however, our assignment is the terrorists."
"Right," Agent Bramer agreed in a somewhat subdued tone. "We understand that you believe these terrorists are part of an organization known as Black Rose."
"That's correct," Collig confirmed. "I realize what the official position of the FBI in regards to Black Rose is and that it may make it difficult to take this theory seriously. However, I do think it's worth listening to the evidence we've gathered."
"Of course, we'll listen to your evidence," Thorson said. "And, yes, officially, the FBI doesn't acknowledge Black Rose to be anything more than an urban legend. However, our interest is in getting to the truth. If Black Rose is, indeed, a real threat, we want to know about it."
"The thing is," Joe spoke up, "I think we might all be wrong about Black Rose, after all. And if you let me have the chance, I think I can prove it."
"How?" Bramer demanded as all four of the officials gathered there stared at Joe.
"Just give me ten minutes to talk to the guy we're holding," Joe requested. "Ten minutes. It's all I ask."
The agents looked at one another.
"It's highly unusual," Thorson began, "but I'm no stranger to the Hardy reputation. With your experience, I doubt you'll wreck the entire case in ten minutes. I think we can let it go this time."
Bramer shrugged. "Well, you can explain it to the powers that be, John."
Relieved at the ease with which his request had been granted, Joe carefully planned out exactly what he was going to say to the prisoner, who had still refused to give his name. He had only a few minutes to think, though, before he was ushered into an interrogation room. The prisoner was handcuffed to a table, and although no one else was in the room, Joe knew that Collig, Olaf, the two FBI agents, and possibly a few more police officers were watching and listening through a two-way mirror.
When the prisoner saw Joe come into the room, he first went pale and then flushed. Ultimately, he looked away and refused to make eye-contact. Joe pulled up a chair, but instead of sitting in it, he put his left foot up on it and leaned against his knee with his elbow. He remained in the position for nearly a minute before the prisoner began squirming.
"What do you want?" the prisoner asked finally.
"I was just thinking," Joe said. "Do you ever do that thing where you're in a room with some other people and you suddenly get the morbid thought 'I wonder which of the people in this room is going to be the first to die'?" He paused for a moment, but the prisoner didn't make any response, so Joe continued, "Back in that room the other day with you and Rhonda and your other buddy and me, the thought popped in my head, but I thought that there was a pretty good chance the next one to die was going to be me. Turns out, I'm definitely in the last two to survive. Now that we're in a room together again, I have to wonder which of us is going to be the next to go. I'd put pretty good money on it that it's not going to be me."
The prisoner shifted in his seat. "They don't give out the death sentence much these days."
"You're suspected of being a terrorist," Joe reminded him. "That's about as serious a charge as you can get. But you could be right. I wasn't really thinking about you being in danger from the state anyway. I was thinking more about how you weren't supposed to let yourself be taken alive. You were supposed to die for the cause if need be, weren't you? Now, Emily, she got away, but I suspect that her getting captured was part of the plan. But not for you. And if Emily's escape shows us nothing else, it shows that they can get into the jails if they want. The authorities might not be able to protect you, especially if they don't know who they're protecting you from."
"You threatening me?" the prisoner asked.
"I was thinking of it more as a warning." Joe sat down in the chair. "You don't want to die. If you were some kind of fanatic who didn't care whether you lived or died as long as the cause survived, you would have found a way to be absolutely sure you didn't get captured alive. We could keep you alive, if you wanted."
For a moment, the prisoner's face twitched as he debated the offer. Then he shook his head. "No. You can't stop them. They're too powerful. Like you said, they're everywhere."
Joe leaned forward. "You've got to understand something, pal. You tried to kill me. You tried to kill Iola. Your people came very close to killing Frank, Callie, and Tony. If one your former friends stabs you in the back, I'm not going to shed any tears over it. I'm not doing this as a personal favor to you. I'm doing it because I want two things. I want my dad safe and I want the people who are really behind all this to pay. Turns out, if they pay, you're going to be safe from them. And unless I miss my guess, the charges against you will be a whole lot less daunting."
"So, now you're offering me a deal," the prisoner said.
Joe shook his head. "Looks like I'm going to have to spell this out. You're not really a terrorist, are you?"
The prisoner stared at him in shock, and then he began to whimper. "They're going to think I told you."
"Then help me and help yourself," Joe told him. "I'll get you started. You're not really working for Black Rose. You have nothing to do with Black Rose. None of this has anything to do with Black Rose or terrorists or anything."
The prisoner licked his lips and then shook his head. "No. I never even heard of Black Rose before I started on this job."
"That's more like it," Joe encouraged him, leaning back in his chair. "Now that you've let that cat out of the bag, you better tell me everything you do know. If this isn't actually some half-mythical terrorist organization, we can stop it. We just need your help."
"Okay," the man said finally. "I don't know if you can really stop them, but I've already dug myself a grave with what I've told you so far. If there's any chance telling you more is going to get me out of it, I'm game. To begin with, my name's Jackson Hart. I'm not exactly a stand-up citizen. I was in some trouble, and then they approached me and told me that if I played ball with them, they'd get me out."
"Who are they?" Joe asked.
"I don't know," Hart admitted. "I really don't. They didn't give me any names. They – they knew all about me. I had to take a chance on them or they were going to turn me in. It seemed like a good chance. All they wanted me to do was get this rose tattoo and stay in this apartment with that Marrow woman and the other guy for a while and pull off one job. Then they'd help me get in the clear. We bungled the job – you know that part, and so they told us we'd have to do more if we wanted them to not turn us in."
"The job was killing me, right?" Joe questioned. "What did you have to do after you failed at that?"
Hart licked his lips nervously. "Uh, well, the other guy – Dorian Pitman – they told him to knock off the Marrow woman."
"Hmm. The other guy did it, huh?" Joe commented, utterly unconvinced.
"He did," Hart insisted. "Then we picked up your brother and the girl when they flew them in with a private plane. I don't know how they got over the borders. Don't ask me. We put them down in that cellar and then we were supposed to get you and the girl and put you down there, too."
"Really?" Joe raised an eyebrow.
"No," Hart admitted. "We were supposed to kill the girl and let you see your brother and the other girl down in that hole. Make it look like you were crazy, you know, going on about things that couldn't be and that you'd killed your girl because you were still mad about her breaking up with you."
"Then why did you try to strangle me?" Joe asked.
"I wasn't trying to strangle you." Hart seemed flustered. "I was just trying to keep you from getting away."
"Uh-huh," Joe replied skeptically.
"It's the truth," Hart insisted. "I don't have anything to gain by lying."
"We'll see about that later," Joe said. "The most important thing now is whether you can tell me where my dad is."
Hart took in a deep breath. "I don't know for sure where they put him, but I have an idea, sorta. If you go in, it's going to be dangerous."
"Then we'll deal with that," Joe replied. "Just tell me where you think he is."
Hart leaned forward and whispered as if he was afraid someone was going to overhear, "They hauled him back to the States with the other two. They put him someplace where they said you'd remember."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe asked.
"I don't know." Hart wrinkled his brow thoughtfully for a few seconds. "They took him somewhere out along Shore Road."
A memory came crashing down on Joe, and an instinct told him that he knew exactly where his dad was being kept. He abruptly ended the interview and strode out of the interrogation room.
He was met by two impressed-looking FBI agents, as well as the chief and Olaf. Grinning like a proud uncle, Olaf slapped Joe on the shoulder.
"How about that?" he said. "You practically cracked the entire case."
"Not the most important part," Joe reminded him. "We've still got to go find my dad."
"Hold on a minute," Agent Thorson commanded him as Joe was about to run out of the station. "Do you actually know where your father is from those vague clues?"
"I have a good idea," Joe replied. "There was one time that Frank and I were working on a case and I got kidnapped for a couple of days. They held me in one of the Honeycomb Caves along Shore Road. That could be what they were referring to if they said that I, in particular, would remember. We'll have to look through the caves, which will be a huge task because there's a ton of them. Even if that's not the case they're referring to, Frank and I have solved several mysteries that involved the caves in one way or another."*
"The caves are an ideal place to hide a kidnap victim," Collig agreed. "They're difficult to get to by land – some of them are completely inaccessible that way. The best way to get to them is by water, and even that is hazardous enough that the only ones who go there usually are kids looking for a thrill or bragging rights or whatever. Even then, the network of caves is so massive that the odds of a casual visitor stumbling on a prisoner there are very slim."
Agent Bramer nodded. "That certainly sounds promising. Sounds like we'll need a big task force, though. You put all the men you can on it, Chief Collig. I'll call headquarters and ask for more backup. If the search is going to be as huge as you say, we probably won't be finished by the time they arrive."
"I'll also call in the Coast Guard and see if they can send a task force, too," Collig said.
"And I'll call Nancy and Ned and my other friends," Joe threw in.
"I don't know about that," Bramer replied.
"Nancy and Ned are licensed private detectives," Joe argued. "They know what they're doing. And Chet and Biff have camped in those caves dozens of times. They know them better than anyone else you could find."
"We need every pair of eyes we can get," Collig agreed. "The boys – and Nancy, too, I'm sure – have been involved in a number of searches. We'll make sure each of them stay with two officers or agents at all times, and they know to keep back if there's any trouble."
Thorson nodded. "In that case, I think we can let them come along this time. The people behind this seem to have a pretty good knowledge of you Hardys and your cases. It's possible that they know exactly which caves your cases involved. You and your friends can point those caves out, and maybe save us a lot of time, not to mention danger. I just have one question before we get this all in motion. Last time I heard, you were one of the main ones who thought Black Rose was behind what's going on. What made you change your mind?"
"It just didn't add up," Joe said. "I mean, Nancy's idea that it was a distraction while Black Rose prepared an attack on Bayport explained everything, but like Frank said, why would they go to that much trouble when they could have us as much in the dark just by keeping their heads down? Then, also, they were spending way too much time targeting us Hardys. Sure, they were pestering the police, too, but if I was a terrorist – uh, which I'm not, by the way – and I was trying to break down a town to prepare for an attack, I would be spending way more time working on the police than on some private detectives. All they'd need to do is wait for us to get called out of town. Happens all the time, so it wouldn't even be a long wait."
"Then what do you think is happening?" Thorson asked.
"I went back to square one," Joe explained. "See, I thought at first that Rhonda was framing me because I'd helped capture some friend or relative or hers. Revenge, you know. But then with Black Rose and everything, I'd never had anything to do with them, so it couldn't possibly be revenge. On the other hand, someone with the right amount of resources and a vivid imagination might find out that I do believe that Black Rose is a real thing and might use it to keep Dad and Frank and me running around in circles while they pick off us and our friends one by one. It's an elaborate scheme of revenge, but it's very – vengeful."
"So, who's behind it then?" Bramer questioned.
"I'm not sure," Joe said. Some instinct was telling him that the answer was right in front of him, but he couldn't quite place it. Whoever it was, though, that could wait until after Joe's dad was safely out of their grasp.
"Let's not waste any more time," Olaf spoke up. "Let's get these task forces put together and start searching."
HBHBHBHBHB
"Man, it's been a long time since we've done this," Biff said. "This feels like old times again."
He was sitting in one of the six seats of Frank and Joe's motorboat, the Sleuth. Joe, Ned, Nancy, Chet, and a police officer occupied the other five seats. The Sleuth was just one of the several boats that were being used to transport police officers and Agents Bramer and Thorson to the Honeycomb Caves. The Coast Guard was going to meet them there.
"Not quite," Joe commented in response to Biff's statement. He was wishing that Frank was sitting in the seat next to him. Then it really would have felt like one of their old adventures from their amateur detective days.
"Which caves should we check first, do you think?" the officer asked.
"I think if we land on that stretch of beach there, we'll be able to get to most of the best caves." Joe pointed at a sandy stretch. "What do you think, Biff?"
Biff nodded. "It's the best place to land, anyhow. There'll be room for all these boats, I think. I don't know if they would have put Mr. Hardy in one of the caves close to here, but we can walk if we need to."
The entire party was cautious and watchful as they landed, but everything was quiet. There was no sign of any criminals lurking about. Collig divided his men, as well as the private detectives and their friends, into groups. He placed Joe and Ned into a group with two officers named Davens and Sordan. Then each group set out, being careful to watch their backs so that no one could sneak up on them.
The search lasted for several hours. The FBI reinforcements whom Thorson and Bramer had sent in arrived and joined in the task. As the search continued, the groups spread farther and farther apart, until between the distance and being in different caves, they only rarely caught glimpses of each other's groups.
"I don't like this." Ned glanced over his shoulder as Davens and Sordan gingerly made their way into a cave. The group that Nancy was in had just disappeared from sight.
"What else are we supposed to do?" Joe asked, waiting impatiently for the officers to give them the go-ahead to follow them into the cave.
"I don't know," Ned admitted. "I just feel like splitting up isn't such a great idea, especially with murderers running around."
Sordan waved, indicating for the detectives to follow him. Joe plunged straight ahead, but Ned hung back a minute, hesitating. That was all he needed to fall behind.
Joe, on the other hand, in his hurry quickly passed the two officers, despite their cautions to him to be more careful. Joe turned a corner, shining his bright flashlight into all corners of the cavern that he had just entered. A slight movement caught the corner of his eye, accompanied by an urgent grunt. He let out a sigh of relief as the beam of his flashlight showed Fenton Hardy, bound hand and foot and gagged, leaning against the wall. Joe covered the distance to his dad in two steps and pulled the gag off him in seconds.
"Joe, it's a trap," Fenton warned him as soon as he could talk.
Even as he was still speaking, there was a cry and a thud. Joe whirled around, and he saw in the beam of his flashlight two people – but not the officers.
"You?" Joe said, although he was hardly surprised by the person he found confronting him.
*This is referring to the classic blue cover series, #10 What Happened at Midnight.
