CHAPTER 10
Frank Hardy was trying to gather his thoughts when the two FBI agents brought him in to Bayport PD. He was still thinking even when they started questioning him in the interrogation room.
Frank still remembered the impassive look on Chief Collig's face before he entered the room. He had a feeling the chief was having a hard time believing that he was involved in this whole mess – even though Frank still hadn't a clue what was going on.
As he glanced at the one-way mirror, he wondered who else was watching the interrogation from the other side.
A puff of cigarette smoke blew toward his face brought his thoughts back down to earth. He scowled at Agent Jackson who was smoking the cigarette.
"How long have you known Ms. Bishop?" the dark-haired Agent Karlinger asked Frank sternly.
His partner, Jackson, started pacing around the interrogation room, listening quietly. A trail of smoke followed behind him whenever he walked, and smoked. A tape recorder was rolling in the middle of the table, recording everything of the interrogation.
"I just met her a few days ago in school," Frank replied calmly.
"Are you sure?" Jackson turned to ask. His dark blue eyes were looking levelly at him. He was slightly muscular than his partner.
"Yes." Frank didn't even blink when he looked at the agent.
Jackson studied him carefully before turning to Karlinger.
"Did you see her yesterday?" Karlinger asked.
Frank could tell there was something strange in the question, but he couldn't point it out exactly. "As a matter of fact I did," he said, and told him about the phone call Joe had received from her last night, and the attempted kidnapping on Liz.
The two agents exchanged looks.
"So, your brother was there, too?" Karlinger asked.
Frank nodded.
"And where is he now?"
"He's in school. Where do you think he should be?"
"And why aren't you in school?"
"I was…uh, suspended."
There was an 'A-ha!' look on Jackson's expression. It was as if he had concluded that Frank was guilty for everything.
"So, You don't know Ms. Bishop…personally?" Karlinger prodded. He sat opposite of Frank.
"What do you mean by that?" Frank narrowed his eyes.
Jackson handed Karlinger a manila envelope. The latter agent opened the flap and took out a large black-and-white photograph.
"And how do you explain this?" he asked, shoving the photo toward Frank. "And don't tell me it's fake, because I took it myself last night. Chief Collig can vouch for that."
Frank was shocked at the picture. It was the picture of him and Liz, standing in front of a motel room. Liz seemed to be handing Frank a wad of bills. He could even see Benjamin Franklin's face on each bill. "You mean, Chief Collig, too, was there when you took the photograph?" he asked in surprised.
"Yes."
Frank glanced at the photo with a sickening feeling in his stomach. "I would never –"
"What? You didn't meet her in that motel room last night?"
"Of course not," Frank told them firmly. "The only logical explanation is that someone's been impersonating me – and her."
But why? Frank wondered silently. Judging from the picture, it had been a very convincing disguise by those two impersonators. And it was a bit too much of a coincidence that Liz was almost kidnapped last night. Was someone trying to throw off the FBI by giving them false leads? False leads from what?
"What time was this taken?" Frank suddenly asked.
"Between seven-thirty, and eight last night," Karlinger replied.
The same time Liz was almost kidnapped.
"How did you know that 'I' was there last night?" Frank asked, nodding toward the picture.
Jackson frowned, putting out his cigarette into an ashtray that was on the table. "We've got an anonymous tip."
"And how long have you known that Ms. Bishop is in Bayport?" he continued asking.
"Look, we're the one who's asking questions here – not you," Jackson snapped, banging his fist on the table, shaking everything on it.
"I don't understand why you have to question me twice. Why didn't you ask me about Ms. Bishop earlier when you 'kidnapped' me last time?" Frank pointed out sarcastically. "Where's Agent Morris?"
Jackson gave a questioning glance at Karlinger, who frowned thoughtfully.
"As we have said earlier, this is the first time we heard of your involvement in the case. We didn't send an 'Agent Morris' to question you before this," Karlinger replied.
Frank had suspected as much that Agent Morris was a hoax. He just needed the confirmation from these two agents.
"And who is this Agent Morris?" Jackson asked.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" the agent looked at him skeptically.
"I said –"
"I heard what you said," Jackson interrupted rudely.
Frank couldn't help feeling irked by this agent. His patience was slowly wearing thin each minute. He was glad Joe wasn't here, or else the man would have two black eyes by now.
"And what do you know?" Karlinger asked calmly. His dark eyes bore deeply on him, studying curiously.
Frank sighed wearily. How should he begin? He didn't even know the right side up of this whole case. He needed some time alone to sort everything that had been going on lately.
"All I know … this Agent Morris was asking about some chip. He thought I have it, which I don't, I think," he answered.
"A chip?" Karlinger leaned forward, suddenly looking interested.
Frank nodded.
"Is that how you got all those wounds? From Agent Morris?" he pointed toward Frank's bandaged wrists, and the wounds on his face and arms.
"Uh-huh. You know about this chip?" he started asking.
"And what do you know about this chip?" Jackson asked, ignoring Frank's similar question.
"I wouldn't ask you if I knew the answer, would I?" Frank retorted.
The agent glared at Frank.
"Hold it, you two," Karlinger warned them when Frank and Jackson began shooting daggers at each other.
The door suddenly burst opened, interrupting the tense atmosphere. A woman in her late twenties, wearing formal gray pantsuit, entered the room. She had shoulder-length dark hair, and hazel eyes. There was an air of authority on her when she entered the room. Everyone grew silent as they watched the newcomer walked in.
Karlinger stood up from his chair and confronted the woman. "Excuse me, but we're in the middle of a federal investigation here. And you're violating our –"
"Not for long," she interjected crisply, pulling out her wallet. "I'm Agent O'Connor from the CIA, and I'm taking over the investigation from now on."