Chapter II

Frank found himself staring face to face with a couple in their early forties; the woman tall and sandy haired, the man only a little taller and wiry, with receding dark hair. It would be hard to say who looked more astonished. They stared at each other for a full five seconds, then embarrassment caught up with Frank.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then, seeing no graceful way to exit, turned and ran back down the beach. For a few moments he thought he heard voices ricochet behind him, but he was moving rapidly and they soon disappeared under the sound of the surf.

The fog had indeed begun to burn off by the time he reached the city, and the streets were beginning to hum with people on their way to work. He entered the hotel lobby and nodded to the desk clerk before heading for the elevator.

Back in the room, Joe was still huddled under the covers. Frank swatted the mound under the blanket with a towel on his way to the shower. "Rise and shine." The mound stirred and withdrew further. By the time Frank emerged from the shower, however, it showed some signs of life. Frank gave it one more swat for good measure. "Come on, pal, you gonna lie there all day?"

Joe's tousled blond mop protruded cautiously from the blanket. "Ugh. Do you have to be so vigorous so early?"

"It's not that early. All of San Francisco's up."

"I thought these West Coasters were supposed to be so laid back."

"I'll bet Callie's up."

"Hmph." Joe pushed back the covers, glaring. After a moment, he rose to his feet, rubbing his head vigorously until his hair stood up like a blond bird's nest, then disappeared into the bathroom. Frank grinned. Nothing like a little healthy competition.

By the time they knocked on Callie's door, Joe was buoyant as ever and ready for breakfast. Callie emerged looking fresh and pretty in a peach blouse and white jeans and gave Frank a quick kiss on the cheek.

The coffee shop was almost empty, and they were soon putting away scrambled eggs and pancakes at an impressive rate.

Callie shook her head at Joe. "I don't know how you do it, Joe."

Joe swallowed a mouthful of pancake. "I've got a healthy appetite. Must be the fog." The mention of the fog reminded Frank of his experience on the beach, and he paused his eating, turning over the details of the conversation in his mind.

"Hey, Earth to Frank."

Frank looked up to see both Joe and Callie eyeing him curiously. "Oh. Sorry. Did you -?"

"Ask you something? We tried. I'm starting to worry about you, big brother. Maybe this vacation isn't a minute too soon."

Frank shook his head. "No. It's just - I had a kind of strange experience jogging this morning." He went on to recount the conversation he'd heard on the beach.

Joe swallowed orange juice thoughtfully. "Sounds like a B grade flick Aunt Gertrude would catch on the late, late show."

Frank grinned. "Yeah, kind of."

"So what do you suppose this three days thing with the big money is? Doesn't sound very legal to me."

"I don't know. I've been going over the details in my head, but nothing comes together. Maybe we should - "

"No you don't." Callie interrupted firmly. "Don't even think about it! I know that look on both your faces! You promised me a vacation, Frank Hardy, a real one, with no mysteries!"

Joe frowned. "Callie, if something illegal is going down -"

"What on earth makes you think it's illegal? Maybe it's a big stock investment, or a lottery drawing, or a business deal! I didn't hear anyone mention anything about a crime! Maybe the man took a job in South America and he's relocating! Maybe Cobra's the company!"

Joe and Frank exchanged sheepish glances. "You know, she's right." said Frank after a minute.

"Yeah." Joe agreed with a laugh. "Maybe this vacation's not a minute too soon for either of us. You gonna finish those eggs?"

"Yes." said Frank firmly, moving his plate out of reach of Joe's hovering fork. "And my toast, so get that look out of your eye."

Callie pushed her plate across the table. "Here, Joe - you can have my toast. I'm done."

Joe picked up the toast. "Thanks, Callie - you're a pal."

"Well, we can't have you fainting from hunger on the ferry to Alcatraz, can we? I'll take care of the tab while you finish."

The fog had almost burned off by the time they'd left the hotel and the sky was clear and blue with a light sea breeze. Frank found it hard to believe that it was the same morning he'd run in a few short hours ago. The short walk to Fisherman's Wharf was pleasant, and they made it in companionable silence. As they stopped at the curb to cross to the Pier, the cars came to a screeching halt.

Joe laughed. "Wow. Not much like New York, is it? There they seem to speed up and aim for you."

"Laws protecting pedestrians are very strict in California." Frank explained. "Hitting one has severe consequences."

Joe looked at him. "Your head must get heavy carrying all that stuff around inside." He squinted down the length of the Wharf. "That looks like the Pier for Alcatraz Ferry down there." They strolled along the Wharf, taking their time, stopping to look at the many vendors' displays.

"Wow." said Joe. "A great place to eat lunch."

Callie laughed. "Joe, you just had breakfast!"

"I know. I just like to be prepared."

Gulls wheeled overhead, hoping for scraps. "Sure is pretty." said Frank, gazing at the long stretch of water and sidewalk, dotted with piers and marinas. Callie slipped her arm through his and sighed in agreement. Frank couldn't remember when he'd last felt so relaxed. He'd almost be content to forgo Alcatraz for sitting on the Pier and looking at the Bay. He turned to say so to Joe, and noticed him staring behind them.

"Pretty?" he asked lazily.

"Huh?" Joe looked bemused. "Oh. Not a girl. Just - never mind." Frank shrugged, unwilling to break the mood by pressing him further.

They made their way to Pier 41 and the Alcatraz Ferry, where Callie went to buy their tickets while Frank and Joe found a place in line. Frank watched a helicopter hover over the Oakland Bay Bridge. He turned to point it out to Joe, and noticed he was frowning over his shoulder again.

"What?" he asked curiously.

Joe started, then reddened. "Oh. Um. Nothing."

"Come on, Joe. Obviously it's something. What?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"I already think you're crazy. So you might as well tell me."

"Well...okay. It's just - I could swear we're being followed."

Frank stared at him. "By gosh, you're right. Just look at this line of people following us. I wonder what they could want? Maybe to go to Alcatraz?"

"All right, all right!" Joe got redder. "I told you it was crazy. But still, I could swear..." he trailed off.

"Well, what did this mystery person or persons look like?"

Joe shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't see them. Exactly."

"So you're saying you sensed somebody walking along the Wharf behind us, stopping at vendors, on the way to the ferry? Only about a dozen people doing that, I'd say."

"Okay, okay - just drop it, will you?"

Frank looked past him to where Callie was approaching with the tickets. "Yeah, we'd better drop it. Here comes Callie, and if she catches us talking about this, she'll push us both into the Bay."

But as they filed onto the ferry, Joe couldn't resist one more look back at the dock. He could have sworn he saw a figure dodge back into the crowd - at least that's the way it seemed to him. Of course, he told himself, it didn't mean anything. The fact that it looked furtive was probably all in his mind. Still, he couldn't suppress a shiver that ran up his spine.

The wind as they pulled out onto the Bay was brisk, and Joe was glad he'd had the foresight to bring his sweatshirt. He glanced over at Frank, leaning against the ferry rail with his arm around Callie. He was aching to really talk out his feeling with his brother, but he couldn't with Callie there. Besides, he looked so relaxed and happy he couldn't bring himself to spoil it.

Alcatraz was exciting enough to take Joe's mind off of his puzzle. Park Rangers told fascinating anecdotes of the island's history and led them up the steep steps to the prison cell house, where they handed out headsets. The inside was still and creepy, with tiny, sterile maximum security cells - almost like horse stalls. The long, chilly corridors echoed their words and footsteps spookily. When the Rangers collected the headsets and they returned to the sunlight and brisk winds of the outdoors, Joe couldn't suppress a tiny breath of relief. He nudged Frank.

"Great place for ghosts."

"I thought it was sad," said Callie

"Yeah? You can ease up on Frank's hand any time now. Before you crush it."

Callie narrowed her eyes at him. "You're just mad because you never got to put anybody in there." she said shrewdly.

"Couple of creeps I'd like to see in there. Remember Sandy White, Frank - the guy that turned you into a human bomb?"

"How could I forget? And what about Max Lachlan, the guy that tried to kill the President? Some psycho he turned out to be."

"Speaking of psychos, remember Bates? That creep you guys helped me with in L.A.?" Callie shuddered at the memory. "I could see him somewhere like this."

Joe couldn't resist teasing her. "As I remember, you almost got yourself killed on that one. Proof positive you should leave crime solving to the experts, right, Frank?"

Frank gave him a look that thanked him very much for dragging him into the middle of it, but before he could answer, Callie retorted, "Well, you were happy enough to have my help when your friend Scott Lavin's name needed clearing, as I recall."

Joe grinned at her. "Well, I was happy for the help of your VCR, anyway. But you could have just loaned it to us with the same results."

"So," Frank gazed down at the waves crashing on the rocks below them. "What about those three convicts the rangers told us about? Think they really escaped, or just plain drown?"

Callie's glare changed to a reluctant smile. "Well, here's one clue I can follow, Joe." she said with a laugh. "I detect that someone is trying to change the subject."

"Good deduction." Frank slipped an arm around her waist. "Let's try another one. Everyone's heading towards the dock. Which means...?"

"The boat's leaving," Joe chimed in. "Okay, let's go."

The air was amazingly warmer once they left the open Bay and headed back past the vendors towards Ghirardelli Square. Near one corner a couple of old men had set up makeshift tables and were playing chess. Frank paused curiously to watch, but Callie took his arm firmly.

"Oh, no, you don't!" she said laughingly. "You promised me shopping and you're not backing out of it." Joe groaned. Callie slipped her other arm through his. "Don't worry, Joe. I hear there are great places to eat lunch. And this evening we do whatever you choose."

"Sounds fair." Joe stared up at the quaint, ornate clock tower that marked the square. "Cool."

The square, a renovated chocolate factory, was interesting enough in itself to keep the boys from boredom, especially since Callie resisted the urge to linger too long at any one place. At just past twelve thirty, lunch sounded like a good idea to all of them, and they headed for a likely cafe with pleasant outdoor tables. Callie was setting down her shopping bags when she spied a small hut set up on the corner.

"Oh, look! A kiosk! We should find out if there are any special events going on!"

"I'll get it." Frank stood up. "I want to buy a map anyway. If the waitress comes, order me a soda." He strolled over to the kiosk and studied the collection of maps before choosing one, then gathered some event folders and paid for the map. He heard one of the chess players say "Check" and couldn't resist a glance down to see the position of the pieces. Suddenly, someone shoved him roughly from behind so that he stumbled against the kiosk and he felt his wallet tugged from his hand.

"Hey!" Frank made a grab at the quickly retreating figure and caught only air. He regathered his balance and ran into a flying tackle. The thief was fast and his tackle fell short, but he skidded across the brick and managed to hook an ankle. The culprit stumbled and Frank held on firmly, shifting his grip to rise to his feet. He made it to his knees.

With surprising agility, the thief swung in his grasp, kicking out with his free leg and catching Frank square in the forehead. Frank flew backward in a graceful arc; his head hit the curb with a resounding crack, and he somersaulted, head over heels, over the curb - directly into four lanes of oncoming traffic!