Pain was the first sensation that greeted Frank when he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes with some difficulty and registered his environment. He was in a warehouse. For the second time in two weeks. Why did criminals have such an affinity for dusty old places? Just once Frank would like to be held hostage in a fancy hotel or office building.

He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. That was a bad idea, his head hurt like crazy. He saw he was duct taped securely to a chair. His gunshot wound on his shoulder had been bound tightly with towels and duct tape. That was a good sign. Adler Haas must not want him dead. Yet.

He was distracted for a short while by a roach on the floor, when he heard the sounds of footsteps. Adler Haas stepped in front of him, with his hands jammed into his pockets. Frank could see the unmistakable imprint of a pistol barrel through the pocket.

Haas lacked the greying hair of his brother, and he sported round glasses. Other than that he had the same basset hound-look as Paul. "You're Joe Hardy's brother." He addressed Frank.

It was a statement, not a question. Frank nodded anyhow.

"Yeah, I could tell. You look a lot alike."

Frank couldn't repress a small smile. Or maybe it was a grimace from a wave of pain from his shoulder. "You look like your brother too."

Haas folded his arms, walked over to the roach, and crushed it with his heel, slowly turning it into the ground. "So I've been told," he murmured. "So, tell me about your brother. Do you take care of him? Watch out for him?"

"Well, yeah," Frank said. "What do you care?"

"That was how I felt about my brother. He was my best friend." Adler's tone was bitter. "He turned away from me in prison. He tried to tell me to go straight, as if our whole lifestyle wasn't his idea. He put me in prison, and didn't do anything to get me out. Right when my wife and son needed me the most."

Adler turned away, clenched his fists, and paced back and forth like an animal.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Frank.

Adler turned back to Frank and leaned in very close. "So you won't see me as the villain, boy. Viktor, or Paul as you know him, is a manipulative monster."

"You shot me, Adler. You almost killed my brother." Frank responded icily. "I don't care how crappy your life is, you're the villain as far as I'm concerned."

Adler grasped Frank's shoulder, and Frank almost cried out in pain. "What the heck do you know, boy? You don't know nothing about 'Paul!'"

"At least," Frank gasped, "Paul would have the decency to know my name before he shot me!"

Adler threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Fair enough, boy. What's your name?"

"Frank Hardy," Frank said sullenly. "Why did you shoot me anyway? You clearly don't want me dead. At least, not yet."

Adler pulled a chair from a corner of the warehouse, walked it back to where Frank sat, and sat himself down. "You're a smart boy, Frank Hardy. You get that from your old man?"

"You know who he is, I assume?"

"Oh yes." Adler seemed almost eager to explain his own cleverness. "I know every member of law enforcement in Bayport. It was a little suspicious when a detective's son- your brother- joined Paul's little group of misfits, but I know what it's like to have infuriating prudes as family. I understand wanting to get away."

Frank tried to play into Adler's ego, to get him to say more. "You seem to have done your research."

"Of course. Once I learned my dear older brother was alive and well, I began my research. I just watched him for a while. He ran a garage 6 days a week, went to church on Sunday… and had a loyal group of teenagers whom he considered 'family.'"

Adler spat the last word out like a curse.

Frank was beginning to understand. "You think that Paul took your family away from you, so you wanted to do the same?"

Adler smiled a dark, toothy smile. For the first time, Frank felt a shiver of fear run up his spine. Adler conjectured, "Your Dad must have let you in on the case a bit, huh?"

Frank pursed his lips. "Yes. I'm a detective, so is Joe. I'm familiar with the criminal mind. Even if you do kill me, my brother and father will hunt you down. I don't know Paul all that well. You gain nothing by keeping me here."

Adler scooched closer and seized the front of Frank's jacket. (Another wince of pain.) "I don't care what happens anymore, boy! Paul'll find us here, and then I'll finish him off. Then I'll end my own life, it don't mean nothing. Then you can go your merry way, no harm done!"

Frank was taken aback. Adler was a different kind of criminal. He was unhinged, and what scared Frank was the gleam of insanity in his eye. Adler didn't fear consequences, which made him exceptionally dangerous.

"Why," Frank asked, "do you think Paul will be able to find you?"

Adler smiled again, his eye twitching. "Think, boy. You know your brother. You'd be able to find him anywhere, right? 'Specially if he wanted to be found?"

Frank's head hurt worse than ever. Yes, if Joe wanted Frank to find him, Frank could find him anywhere in the world.

Adler chuckled. "My brother will come, as soon as he gets my message. Sure as sure."

Frank shut his eyes hard, as if he could block off the noise of that rough laughter in the abandoned warehouse.