CHAPTER 16
"Anything happened, yet?" Fenton Hardy asked Joe as he crouched next to his son, spying the meeting between Frank, Liz, and Morris. They were hiding behind some underbrush just across the street from the park entrance.
"Nope," Joe reported.
Before leaving the house, Joe had informed his father about the meeting, while Frank and Liz waited for him in the van. Frank didn't even know that Joe had told his father. To avoid suspicion, Mr. Hardy would follow them to the meeting from his own car. Now that he was here, Joe couldn't help feeling relieved.
They watched through their binoculars in silence for a while before Joe gasped quietly when he saw Morris pulling out his gun and trained it on his brother and Liz.
"Dad, we've got to save them!" he said in hushed tone.
His father hadn't a chance to reply when they saw Morris pulled the trigger.
Joe wanted to cry out for his brother when he saw Frank and Liz crumpled to the ground, but somehow his voice stuck in his throat. No, no, no, no. This isn't happening. It isn't. It isn't. He wanted to be there – wanted to see if Frank was really dead, wanted to see if he hadn't been dreaming all of it.
"Doesn't make sense…makes no sense at all," he heard his father muttered.
Joe started to stand up, but his father quickly pulled him down.
"Dad, what are you doing? You're going to let them get away with this?" Joe asked incredulously.
"Joe, think! What good will it do to them if Ms. Bishop's dead? They need the password from her. And did you see Frank giving Morris the chip?" he pointed out.
"No, because Morris would have taken it easily if Frank's –"
"Don't even say it, Joe," his father cut him off sternly. "I just hope this isn't what it appears to be."
"But what if it is?"
His father didn't answer. He didn't have to. Just from looking at his stony unresponsive look that was etched on his handsome face told Joe enough what he was thinking. He felt guilty.
Joe knew they had to reevaluate their plan. He glanced again through the binoculars. The man, whom he assumed to be Morris, was commanding his goons to carry Frank and Liz's limp bodies into the dark blue Honda. It was the same car he had seen following him to school last time, and also during the attempted kidnapping.
Looks like they are cleaning up the mess, Joe thought bitterly.
"Come on, get in the van. I'm coming with you," his father said grimly.
Both of them carefully stepped out from the underbrush. Joe jogged back toward the van, and stashed the binoculars into the glove compartment.
There was a silence once they were inside the van. More like a remorse silence. Joe couldn't cry. The shock of seeing Frank getting shot was too great to overcome his grief. He hoped his father was right. He really hoped so. But if something did happen to Frank, he vowed to get even with those men – whatever the cost. They will pay for this. I'll make sure of that.
"Follow the car," Mr. Hardy said, breaking the silence. He looked solemnly ahead of him, as if contemplating the situation.
Joe took a deep breath for a while. Suddenly filled with determination, he jammed the keys into the ignition, started the van, and pulled out to the street a little later after the Honda began moving. The road was nearly deserted, and Joe kept a safe distance between the van and the Honda.
Okay, now what are we supposed to do when they reached their destination? They couldn't possibly manhandle them alone. A guy like Morris would have his armed-thugs guarding his place – wherever it was.
Ahead, the dark car turned around a corner to the main road with screeching tires. Looks like they are in a hurry, he thought. Either that, or they had spotted the van.
Joe followed behind, with slower pace. He didn't want them to get suspicious. There were a few cars moving along the main street. He deliberately let a car moved between him and the Honda.
A sudden pair of bright headlights glared through the rearview mirror. Was someone else tailing them? Or the Honda in front? He also noticed another pair of headlights moving behind the car that was behind him. It might be nothing, but the probability of the number of cars suddenly coming out from the same deserted road that he had been just now made him cautious – and suspicious.
Who was tailing whom?
He wanted to shake off his tail, but he couldn't afford to lose his sight on the Honda, either.
Without signaling, the dark blue Honda made a left turn toward Dockview Drive. Joe knew there would be no traffic here for cover, so he swung the van slowly, and turned off his headlights. The streetlights that lined along the road helped his vision.
The road led to the Bayport docks. The area was scattered with old and dingy warehouses – most of them had been abandoned for years.
It would be tricky to move along this street. There were too many forked roads leading to each warehouse. The van swayed slightly from side to side as it moved along the bumpy road. He was glad the van had been replaced with new tires. They gave him better movement on a road like this.
Man, I feel like going through a ghost town, he thought as he controlled the steering wheel to make sure the van didn't steer away. The place was so dead that he could even see some night creatures running across the road.
Rats, Joe thought, recognizing the scampering rodents. Big fat rats. Now he knew how Frank had gotten those teeth marks on his body. Morris probably had collected the rats into his little basket, and decided to use it for his own twisted purposes.
At the reminder of being twisted, he instinctively shuddered inwardly at the thought of Phil and Callie, who were now held captives by Morris. For Frank's sake, he hoped they were okay. He wouldn't want to know what he would do if something bad happened to both of them, especially Callie. He knew Frank was very protective if anything happened to Callie. He hoped he wouldn't have to tell them about Frank, if his brother was found to be dead. He hoped…he hoped…he hoped…
Joe glanced at his father, suddenly noticing how unusually quiet he was. All his father did during the ride was squirming uncomfortably on his seat, tapping his fingers impatiently against the dashboard, or running his hand through his hair – which reminded him so much of Frank. Do nervous traits can be passed down in family? Does he even notice where we're going now? Joe was tempted to run the van through an old phone booth ahead of him just to find that out.
"They're slowing!" his father spoke up suddenly.
Joe startled out of his thoughts as if he'd just heard a glass breaking. He noticed the Honda in front of him slowed down, and turned right to a warehouse, almost at the far end of the block.
Joe didn't follow. Instead, he pulled the van to a stop across the street from the warehouse. He was about to climb out of the van when men in dark clothes suddenly appeared beside the van. They yanked the door open, blocking his path. He noticed his father was experiencing the same thing, too. The men began pointing their semi-automatics straight at his heart, slowly pulling the trigger. Joe choked back his fear, wondering that he could be sharing the same fate as Frank's, tonight.