CHAPTER 4

Joe Hardy quickly paid for his lunch, and picked up his tray before moving toward his usual table. Phil Cohen was already sitting there. He was separating the mashed potatoes and the baked beans with his fork, making a careful border between the two substances.

"Say, Joe, have you seen Frank today?" Phil asked.

"Didn't you hear?" Joe asked him in surprise, setting his tray next to him.

Vanessa Bender, Joe's girlfriend, sat next to him.

"Hear what?" Phil asked quizzically. He finally looked up from his food.

"Frank gets suspension from school!" Biff said before Joe could answer. Joe wondered how someone as large as Biff could suddenly appear out of nowhere. Biff flopped down on his seat opposite of Phil and Joe.

"What?" Callie, who had just arrived at the table with a tray of food, asked in shock. "That explains why I didn't see him during English class."

"What do you mean Frank's been suspended?" Phil asked suddenly, looking as shocked as Callie.

Turning serious, Joe began telling them what Frank had told him.

"Why would someone do that?" Vanessa Bender asked, pushing a strand of ash blond hair behind her ear. She began isolating the baked beans from the rest of her lunch, wondering how on earth the beans had gotten into her tray.

"I don't know," Joe admitted. "It's kind of strange when bad things happened to Frank lately." He scooped the beans from Vanessa's tray and put them into his own. He knew baked beans weren't Vanessa's favorite.

"I hope it's all just a coincidence. I hate to think that someone's stalking him or something," Callie said. The thoughtful frown on her face turned to worry.

"Me, too, Callie," Joe agreed, but he didn't want to worry her and the others by not telling about the break-in yesterday. Something fishy is going on here, he thought grimly. He could feel it. He could even taste it on the chicken nugget that he was chewing right now. "Ugh! Talk about fishy, literally!"

"Is Frank still on the competition?" Phil asked Joe.

Joe was forced to swallow his food, before shrugging. "He didn't say. I thought you've finished with that fuzzy-thingy."

"Just need a little enhancement," he answered. "We were planning to discuss about it today after our Physics class. I was going to give him the board."

"Why don't you give it to me, and I'll hand it to him?" Joe suggested.

"All right. Thanks, Joe." Phil looked relieved.

***

By the time Joe got home from school, he was so weary from his football practice that he was ready to collapse on his bed.

"Frank?" he called.

No answer.

"That's weird. The van is still in the driveway," Joe said to himself. Maybe he's taking a nap, he reasoned silently.

As he walked to the living room, he caught sight of Frank's backpack lying at the foot of the couch. Boy, Frank, you're making a big point you're on holiday, Joe thought in amusement. He picked up the bag and went upstairs.

"Frank?" Joe knocked on the bedroom door. When his brother didn't answer, Joe turned the knob slowly. There was no one in the room.

"Where in the world are you, Frank?" Joe asked to no one as he placed Frank's backpack and the electronic board that Phil had given him on the desk.

Wild thoughts went through Joe's mind. One of them was Frank had gone for vacation somewhere in Timbuktu. Yeah, right, Joe thought and chuckled silently. He's probably hunting for the person who framed him.

The next few minutes, he started searching the whole house for his brother.

"What is it, Joe?" Fenton Hardy asked when Joe entered the study. His father, tall, dark-haired and good looking, was typing something on his computer.

"Just wondering if Frank's in here," Joe said.

"I just got back half an hour ago. I thought he's at home. His backpack is in the living room," Mr. Hardy replied.

"I thought so, too. I've already put the bag in his room," Joe replied. "I guess he didn't call to tell you that he's been suspended from school?"

Oops, Joe thought suddenly, wondering if that was supposed to be a secret. Frank didn't mention to keep it a secret.

"Suspended?" Mr. Hardy almost exploded. His dark eyes glanced at Joe sharply, raising his dark brows in disbelief.

Joe wasn't sure if his father was angry, or amused. He couldn't read the sudden impassive expression on his face. It was as if he could change his expression like flicking a switch. I should learn how to do that from him someday.

"Why didn't Mr. Shelbrooke report to me?" his father asked.

Joe was about to reply when the phone on the desk rang. Mr. Hardy picked it up.

"Hardy residence," he said. Then Mr. Hardy raised his eyebrows as he listened. "Mr. Shelbrooke…yes, so I've been told…Frank? No, it's Joe…uh-huh…yes…uh-huh…I am aware of that. Thank you." He placed down the receiver.

He turned to Joe. "That was Mr. Shelbrooke. He just told me about Frank involving in school vandalism."

Joe nodded silently.

"Do you know what really had happened?" his father asked seriously.

Joe hesitated for a while before he told his father about the virus-infected email, and what had been happening lately.

Mr. Hardy looked thoughtful when Joe had finished his story. "Frank wouldn't do that," he finally remarked. "And I don't like how things are going for Frank. First, his room was ransacked, now someone's been using his email account to frame him," he went on with a frown. "Are you sure you two are not on a case?"

"No, Dad. If we are, I probably would be on the trail of the culprit by now," Joe sighed exasperatedly.

"I'm trying to sort out all the angles," Mr. Hardy told him. "Where's he now?"

"That's why I'm asking you. I thought you might have seen him. I've searched the whole house," Joe answered.

"Maybe he's gone jogging, or taking a walk," Mr. Hardy suggested. "Let's not get too worried for now."

"I hope you're right. But what if he doesn't come back at all? As far as I know, he left school before lunch, it's been hours since then."

Mr. Hardy looked grave. "Let's give him a couple of hours more. If he doesn't come back by then, we really have to start worrying."

***

Something punched Frank across his face, jerking him awake from his slumber. Slumber? Have I been sleeping in class? He tried to open his eyes in difficulty. His face hurt immensely. When he finally could open his eyes, he found herself staring into darkness. I've been blindfolded! All at once, he recalled being knocked out after he arrived at home – and after he was suspended from school. He still couldn't believe it had happened. His father probably would hit the roof if he told him this bad news.

Then someone suddenly yanked the blindfold away. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust the sudden bright light glaring above him. Ouch! His head hurt so much, too. He winced in pain as a hand suddenly backhanded his face again. He could already feel the blood at the corner of his lips.

"Good, you've woken up," an unfamiliar male voice sneered from somewhere in the room.

When Frank finally adjusted his eyes, he realized he was in a dim room with only a light bulb beaming above his head. A musty smell filled his nostrils. He must have been in a storeroom or something like that. He could almost see silhouettes of two people - maybe more in the room, blending themselves with the darkness.

The hand slapped him once more, Frank instinctively tried to block the blow but his hands were held back by something. He finally noticed that he was trussed up to a chair.

"Don't you have enough?" Frank gritted his teeth in anger.

"Shut up, punk!" the man growled and raised his hand again. His face was covered with black ski mask.

That voice…where have I heard it before? It sounded vaguely familiar, even though Frank had a feeling the man was trying to disguise it.

"That's enough!" A new commanding voice said sharply from behind the man. His voice was clear and smooth.

Frank tried to see the other people inside the room, but all he could see were moving shadows. A question rang through his mind. Who are these people?

"What do you want from me?" Frank asked coldly.

"You're here for an interrogation," the commanding man said crisply.

"For what?"

"For an FBI investigation."

"You expect me to believe that?" Frank retorted. "I doubt you have any badge."

"I'm Special Agent Morris."

A large black-gloved hand suddenly showed a wallet with the badge to his face. But it was too fast for Frank to look at it properly before it disappeared into the darkness. He only managed to see the word FBI on it.

"Ookay, so you're an FBI agent," Frank commented slowly, still suspicious. "What kind of investigation am I in?"

"Espionage."

"That's ridiculous," Frank retorted, unable to hide his surprise. He felt like laughing by the ridiculous accusation, but he also knew there was no laughing matter about these guys. "How did you reach the conclusion that I'm involved?"

"Look, we ask questions here, not you!" Morris snapped. The man was still speaking behind the shadows. "Now, you answer our question. If you lie, you'll face the consequences. So, what's it going to be? The hard way or the easier way?"

Frank didn't answer. His mind was racing trying to figure out what was going on, or how he ended up here. They could have kidnapped the wrong person, he reasoned silently. He, also, had a feeling these people were playing hardball – so he had to act carefully.

Maybe he could try to loosen the ropes. But there might be someone else stationed behind him in the darkness, another voice in his mind told him. For the first time, he realized the situation was hopeless. There was nowhere he could run.

"Now, where is it?" Morris suddenly demanded.

"Where's what?" Frank asked in bewilderment.

"You know what I'm talking about! The prototype!"

"I don't know any prototype!"

The large man that was still standing next to him suddenly sent a blow toward his midsection. Frank gritted his teeth in pain. He mentally told himself not to show them any signs of fear, or pain.

"Now, tell!"

Frank refused to answer. Maybe if he could get them thinking that he had the so-called prototype, would they let him go?

"Perhaps he needs a little persuasion," Morris taunted. The thug in the black ski mask disappeared into the darkness for a short while before he came back again.

Frank's eyes widened, when he saw the thug was holding a couple of wires in his hands. The thug deliberately crossed the deadly looking wires together until bright sizzling sparks jumped out of the tips. Frank could almost see the sinister smile on his face behind the mask as he slowly walked toward him with the live wires.

"Have you ever wonder how does it feel to be electrocuted, Mr. Hardy?"