CHAPTER 8
When Joe came down for breakfast the next morning, Frank immediately shoved the newspaper toward him before he could take a bite of the yummy pancakes. His father looked grim. His mother, blond and blue-eyed, was still flapping pancakes on the pan.
"What?" Joe asked Frank in annoyance, barely giving a glance at the paper. "I'm not eating that, if that's what you're suggesting."
"Look."
Joe glanced down. "That's Liz Cornell! Wanted by the FBI for industrial espionage!" he gasped in shock as he read the printed material.
"Only her name isn't Elizabeth Cornell. It's Elizabeth Bishop," Mr. Hardy told him, pointing toward the paper.
"Hmm, they didn't say much about her, did they?" Joe asked, noticing there was no article on her, except for the 'wanted' poster.
"Maybe we could check on her through my database," Mr. Hardy told them, pushing his unfinished food away.
"Boys, don't you know it's unhealthy to digest information before digesting the food first?" Mrs. Hardy scolded them lightly. She took the newspaper before they could read further.
"Mmm," Joe mumbled, almost forgotten about his breakfast. He poured the maple syrup on his pancakes, making a big letter 'J' on it.
"I suppose that includes me, too?" Mr. Hardy asked with raised eyebrows.
"You, too," she told him firmly. "You're not giving the boys a good example."
"Mmm," Mr. Hardy mumbled, sounding almost like Joe before he took another bite of his pancake.
"Lucky, you, Frank. I've got to go to school," Joe made a face, swallowing his food.
Frank couldn't help grinning. "Maybe you could check for Liz in school. See if she's working today," he suggested.
"What are you going to do in the meantime?" Joe asked back before taking a last swig of his orange juice.
"Find out about her, and maybe take a look at her house again." He shrugged.
"Morris hasn't contacted you, has he?" Mr. Hardy asked Frank.
"No…" Frank replied thoughtfully. "I would have assumed he would have called sooner, considering his urgency."
"It's like…you're not his priority anymore," Joe added, looking a bit troubled, "ever since last night."
"But we're still not sure the attempted kidnapping on Liz is connected," Frank pointed out.
"This doesn't sound good," Mr. Hardy frowned. "If Morris doesn't need Frank anymore, I have a feeling he would plan to eliminate him. He doesn't need witnesses."
"Gee, that's new," Frank replied sarcastically. "All we have now is 'maybes'. Morris might decide to call today. And I'm still not getting nearer finding that chip." He let out his breath in frustration.
"If Liz is somehow connected with this, we need to find her first. She might know something about the chip," Mr. Hardy told them.
Joe sighed heavily. "I'd better go to school now. Why do big brothers always have the fun?" he mumbled as he walked toward the kitchen door.
"Very funny," Frank said in mock anger.
"Have fun, honey," Mrs. Hardy told Joe, ruffling his hair affectionately.
"Aww, Mom," Joe groaned before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. After saying goodbyes, he left the room.
When Joe left, Frank and his father quickly finished their breakfast before heading to Mr. Hardy's study. Half an hour later, after searching through his database on his computer, they had learned something about Elizabeth Bishop. Frank didn't expect to find out she used to be working at EDevices as embedded system programmer for five years before her boss, Mr. Garcia, fired her when he caught her red-handed for industrial espionage.
"That makes perfect sense…the FBI…Boston…execution style murders," Mr. Hardy murmured thoughtfully.
"What is it?" Frank asked eagerly.
"Do you remember what I told you yesterday about the four murders in Boston?"
Frank nodded.
"Well, all of them were EDevices's employees."
"Is there something going on in that company?"
"We don't have anything on them, yet. Hmm…" he stopped for a moment when something on the screen caught his eyes. "There's an unsolved case on Elizabeth Bishop's father, Eugene Bishop," Mr. Hardy told Frank when he found another file in his computer.
"What about it?"
"He's been missing for eight years, and the police still don't know whether he's still alive or not," he reported. "He didn't come back home from work on the day he disappeared."
That's probably about the time after the picture was taken, Frank thought, remembering the photograph that he had seen last night. It must have been devastating losing a father like that.
"Looks like Mr. Bishop's profession seemed to have an influence on his daughter, too," his father commented, still reading from the monitor.
"He also worked as embedded system programmer?"
"More towards system software programmer…more or less, it's something to do with programming."
A sudden ringing of the phone almost made Frank jumped. He quickly picked it up.
"It's me," Joe said from the other side before Frank could say anything.
"What's up, Joe?" Frank was slightly relieved it wasn't Morris.
"I've checked for Liz at her office. She's not here."
"I guess by now, everyone's probably had read the newspaper. She would be like sitting duck if she comes for work," Frank remarked thoughtfully. Then he quickly told Joe what he had found out about Liz.
"Maybe that scrap paper you found belongs to her, after all," Joe pointed out.
"I would guess so," Frank agreed. He'd almost forgotten about that.
After hanging up the phone, he turned to his father. "I think I'd better go over to Liz's house. I might have missed something last night," he told him.
Mr. Hardy nodded. "Be careful," he told his son seriously.
"I know," Frank replied before he left the room.
When Frank arrived at Liz's house a few minutes later, he couldn't help feeling he was being watched as he walked up the driveway.
He glanced around casually. Everything looked normal. Some of the nearby neighbors were chatting with one another at the lawn, oblivious to their surrounding, and a few were getting into their cars for work. There were a few cars parked on the side of the road, but none of them was the sedan he had seen last night. Maybe I'm getting paranoid.
Shrugging to himself, he made his way to the front door. He knocked first. As he expected, no one was answering the door. He turned the doorknob slowly. It was unlocked. Someone's been here. He knew because he had the door locked last night.
Cautiously, he stepped inside the house. He glanced around the slightly dim room. The curtains were drawn close. Except for the furniture, all of Liz's belongings were gone. She must have come back again last night.
Before he could think further, the sound of footsteps outside the door made him turn. He tensed when he saw two men in dark suits stood there with impassive look on their faces. One was dark-haired, and the other was blond haired, with a slight pimply skin. Both of them looked as if they were in their early thirties.
"Mr. Hardy?" the dark-haired one said.
"Yes?" Frank swallowed uneasily. I'm doomed.
"I'm Special Agent Karlinger, and this is," he pointed to the blond man, "Special Agent Jackson. We're from the FBI." They pulled out their badges.
"You expect me to believe you? Where's Special Agent Morris?"
The two FBI agents exchanged puzzled looks. "I don't think the FBI has assigned this Special Agent Morris to question you."
"And what do you want from me? And how do you know I'll be here?" Frank asked curiously. For some reason, he was convinced that these guys were the real FBI agents.
"We made a tail on you. I'm afraid you need to follow us to the station. We believe you've been conspiring with Elizabeth Bishop for industrial espionage."