Chapter XIV

"Frank. Frank, we're here."

Frank stirred and pried open his eyes; realized that he had fallen asleep, leaning on Callie. He kneaded his eyelids and followed Joe and Callie unsteadily but obediently up the stairs to the street. He blinked at the unfamiliar façade of Hotel Hong. "This isn't our hotel," he protested.

"Sure it is, bro." Joe took his arm and steered him toward the building. "It's our new hotel. An important precaution, I thought."

"Oh," Frank nodded. Boy, his brain seemed to be moving slow. "Good idea. They knew where we were?"

"I'd say. Since Callie and I received a note there wrapped around you driver's license, saying you'd be returned in three days if we didn't go to the police."

"No kidding." Frank looked at the tidy stone building sitting in Chinatown. "I feel like Rip Van Winkle. What else don't I know?"

Joe hustled him into the lobby where a desk clerk greeted them pleasantly in Chinese. "We can exchange war stories upstairs, with room service. I'm starved."

"Me too," admitted Frank, as he watched Joe press the button to call the elevator. He leaned into the wall as they waited. He felt a gentle touch on his arm and he jumped back to alertness. "I'm not asleep!" Was he?

"Of course you're not, bro - just resting your eyes, right?"

"Ha ha." Frank kneaded the bump on his forehead as Joe nudged him into the waiting elevator.

"Well, I'm going to clean up," Callie announced, pulling out her key as the elevator ground to a stop. "That cellar was too dirty for anything." She clung to Frank for a moment. "Let me shower and I'll show you just how glad I am to see you."

Joe rolled his eyes and unlocked the door of the room next to Callie's, palming it open. "After you. It's not bad."

Frank tore his eyes away from Callie's now-closed door and sighed wearily. "Anything with a shower."

"Yeah. Callie's right about that cellar. I think I'll go after you."

Frank pulled off his jacket and threw it on one of the beds. The handcuff jangled free of the sleeve, where he'd inconspicuously stowed it to travel on the subway. "Oh. Hey, Joe, there's a lockpick case - "

"Yeah, I know. In fact, it's the one we've been using. Want me to do the honors?"

"Please." Frank looked at him and shook his head. "Well, my side's not real exciting, but I can't wait to hear about your adventures."

Joe grinned as he selected a lockpick. "Not bad, if I do say so. Hold it steady."

The cuff released with a jangle and Frank rubbed his wrist where it had bruised dismantling the bed. "Thanks." He tugged the complimentary robe from the closet and headed for the bathroom.

The shower felt better than anything Frank could remember and helped relax his stiff and achy muscles. He leaned back against the tile wall and closed his eyes, letting the water pound over him. Don't fall asleep again, he reminded himself, or you'll never hear the end of it from Joe! When he finally emerged in a cloud of steam towel drying his hair, Joe sauntered over to him, his own robe slung over his shoulder.

"Hang on." He grasped Frank by the shoulder and studied his face closely, looking so much like Gabby for a moment that Frank couldn't help smiling.

"Well, Mom?" he inquired politely at last. "What's the verdict?"

"Not bad," Joe nodded, releasing him. "Kind of worn out, but, hey, that could just be old age!"

Frank tried to hit him with his towel, but Joe was too fast for him and dove into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. His laughter filtered out from under the door.

Frank stretched out on one of the beds, grinning. Joe's showers were never short, so he might just as well get comfortable. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror at the end of the bed and gave a low whistle. His lean features were gaunt and haggard, and the bump on his forehead had developed a technicolor bruise.

"Wow. I look like a refugee or something." He tucked his hands under his head and decided to go over what he knew of the case, piece by piece, from the beginning. Joe's shower thrummed hypnotically in the background, otherwise the room was deeply quiet. Frank sighed, closing his eyes to concentrate on the details. For the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed and warm and comfortable.

The sound of the shower filled his ears, and the details of the last few days kept sliding stubbornly together behind his eyes, until they slowly dissolved into sleep.

Frank awoke with a start sometime later. For a moment he couldn't figure out where he was and he wondered, with a surge of panic, if his escape had just been a dream. Then he spotted Joe, stretched out and asleep in the easy chair with a blanket over him, and he relaxed.

Someone had thrown a blanket over him as well he noticed. The light and shadows in the room had shifted and his heart dropped. More time lost! How could he possibly have gone to sleep again? He covered his eyes with his hands and groaned aloud.

"Frank? Are you all right?"

He turned to see Callie sitting crosslegged on the other bed with a book in her lap.

He pulled himself into sitting position. "I'm fine. Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I figured you could use the sleep."

"I don't see how. I could count the hours I've been conscious over the last couple of days on one hand."

Callie slid off of the other bed and sat down next to Frank. "I don't think a drug induced stupor qualifies as rest."

Frank recalled how terrible he'd felt the first couple of times he'd come to and shuddered. "I guess not. Well, I'd better get dressed and call room service. Then I'll wake Joe."

Callie slipped her arms around him and cuddled close. "Leave him a little longer. He hasn't slept much the last two nights. Me either."

Frank swallowed. "Callie, I'm sorry - "

"Ssh," Callie stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Don't. Don't apologize."

"I just know this isn't the vacation you had in mind."

"I doubt it's exactly what you had in mind, either." She grinned and settled her head on his chest. "I'll say this for you, Frank Hardy. You're never dull."

Frank reached up to stroke her hair. "I'm just sorry to put you through this."

She looked up at him meaningfully. "I guess I must think you're worth it."

That effectively put a period to any conversation, until the sound of someone clearing their throat made them fly apart. Frank and Callie looked away from each other, both fiery red.

"Um. Joe. You're awake."

"Frank, it's that kind of brilliant deductive reasoning that makes you such a good detective. I guess it's too much to expect that you called room service."

"Oh. We were just talking about that."

"Yeah, I can see that's what you were doing."

"I'll call." Callie hopped off the bed and grabbed the phone. "You guys know what you want?"

"I'll have steak and baked potato, if they have it," said Joe. "I'm starved."

"I'll have the same." Frank picked up his suitcase and headed for the bathroom. "I'm going to get dressed."