CHAPTER 17
It was cold. He shivered, and tightened his jacket around him, and curled into a comfortable position, to gather more warmth. Somehow it didn't feel comfortable. The bed felt hard, and slightly damp. He could even feel something…small, solid fragments prodding against his back.
Annoyed, he opened his eyes…slowly trying to adjust his eyes against the single light bulb that helped beaming the dingy room.
"Good, you're awake," a voice said curtly. "I was about to get the smelling salts."
The voice sounded familiar…but he still couldn't register it to his brain, yet. Where am I? He wondered drowsily, trying to sit up.
Rough hands suddenly grabbed him by his jacket, and pushed him to sit on a wooden chair. When he finally got his bearings, including the sight, and sound, he noticed he was in some sort of a dusty storeroom…a very familiar room.
Instantly, he recognized Morris's face, sneering in front of him. And everything came back to him instantly, like seeing the headlight of a moving train rushing at him.
"Callie!" he exclaimed, getting up from his seat.
"Sit down, Mr. Hardy," Morris commanded coldly, as another pair of strong hands held Frank down from moving.
Frank glanced beside him, and noticed Liz, too, was sitting on a chair – only she was still unconscious. There were a couple of men he didn't recognized. All of them were tall and muscular, and holding submachine guns. Morris's thugs, he thought, except for one that seemed out of place. This man, in his early forties, was shorter, wearing tweed jacket, and a pair of beige slacks. He had dark hair and pale blue eyes, and pencil-thin mustache. And a woman. She almost escaped Frank's notice. She had short blond hair and blue eyes. She was about in her late twenties. Frank instinctively thought about the impersonators. She had to be the one impersonating as Liz.
"My gun's been modified. I've got you both tranquilized, just in case you got stubborn," Morris told them with a wicked grin. "But the next bullet will be for real." He pulled out another gun from his jacket. This time it was a semiautomatic.
"So, now you've got us," Frank began, "what about the bargain?" He wanted so much to know about Callie and Phil's condition.
"Never beat around the bush, huh?" Morris smirked. "Then hand over the chip now." His voice hardened.
"Not until I know that Callie and Phil are all right," Frank shot back.
"Now." Morris pointed the barrel against Frank's temple. His eyes darkened dangerously.
Frank gritted his teeth, and stared at Morris, unfazed. He reached inside his pocket.
"Take it out slowly," Morris ordered as he watched Frank carefully.
Slowly, he handed the plastic case to Morris, who snatched it away from Frank. He immediately handed the case to the man in the tweed jacket.
"Sam," Morris called one of his thugs, "bring the girl and the boy," he ordered crisply.
A broad muscular man left the room.
Frank studied the man in tweed jacket curiously.
"You're Mr. Garcia, aren't you?" he suddenly asked the man.
The man, who was about to open the plastic case, looked startle at Frank.
"So, Ms. Bishop must have told you how she was fired," Mr. Garcia remarked, after gaining his composure. "I'm sure she told you how I framed her for espionage?" he prompted.
"Did you?"
"She would be dispensable if it wasn't for her stupidity to encrypt the program," he growled, glaring at still-unconscious Liz.
"It's a good thing she did that," Frank countered, "if you were planning to give it to Massalski."
"It's also a good reason why you, too, must die," Garcia returned, even though he didn't acknowledge about his involvement with Massalski.
"Does that mean you're working for Massalski?" Frank continued prodding.
"Even if I have, every evidence that has me connected with him is destroyed by now," the man said and shrugged, as if he didn't bother about it at all.
"So, you don't really have to kill me. You've destroyed the evidence," Frank reasoned.
"But you're a Hardy," Morris spoke up. "Imagine our surprise when we found out who bought the chip."
"So?"
"You won't give up. And with your father's history with Massalski, things are already bad enough," he replied with a meaningful look. "Did you know they were almost like you and Joe?" he added cryptically.
Frank narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?" He didn't like what Morris was implying. Or he's deliberately playing games with me, Frank thought cautiously. He's desperate.
"You should talk to your father," Morris said, "Oh, I forgot. I've already planned to have you killed, so I guess, you'll die without knowing it," he added with a smug, enjoying the uneasy look on Frank's face.
Frank was about to reply when a door behind him burst open. Sam, Morris's thug, came inside, carrying two limp bodies on his broad shoulders.
The muscled thug dropped the bodies to the floor, as if they were sacked potatoes. Both Callie and Phil were out cold.
"What have you done to them?" Frank asked angrily. He almost jumped out of his chair, but someone was constraining him by his shoulders.
The sight of visible bleeding wounds and bruises on Callie, and Phil's faces and arms worried Frank like mad. His heart almost broke when he glanced at Callie again. She doesn't deserve this. Nobody deserves this.
"Aw, is the sight too disturbing?" Morris said with mock sympathy.
Frank shot him a murderous look.
"Easy, Hardy," a familiar voice behind him said. It was the man who was constraining him.
"Bruce Prescott, I presumed," Frank said without turning around.
"How clever you are," Bruce mocked. He stood before Frank. This time he didn't look like a typical high school student. He looked more to be in his mid-twenties.
"Ahh, our master of disguise, Conrad Silverhawk," Morris announced, referring to Bruce.
"Found the mask in your so-called house," Frank retorted to Bruce a.k.a. Conrad. "You were impersonating me."
"Bet it gave those G-men something to chase, while Morris tried to get Liz at the same time," Bruce said.
"Is that why you transferred to Bayport High? So, you can check what Liz was up to?" Frank asked.
Bruce made a tsk-tsk sound. "I thought you are more clever than that. I was keeping an eye on you."
"Gee, I'm flattered," Frank said sarcastically.
"Garcia found out you had bought the exchanged chip, and we've made a plan to get it from you. Seeing Liz there was a pure coincidence. It was our lucky break."
"So, you sent the virus to the principal and framed me. That way you can kidnapped me while I was suspended from school," Frank concluded, and nodded in understanding. "But what I don't understand is…why did you frame Liz for the crime she didn't commit when you don't need her anymore? Why didn't you kill her like the rest of them? The FBI would be investigating her, and I don't think you need that kind of attention from the authority."
"It was a mistake – on my part. I needed a scapegoat to blame for the other murders," Mr. Garcia told him grudgingly. "I reported to the FBI first before Massalski ordered me to find her. That was after he found out the program was encrypted."
"You know what? If it wasn't for that, I would have kidnapped Joe in the first place," Bruce spoke up suddenly. His eyes suddenly grew cold.
"Why?"
"Why? Because he's blond."
Frank was shocked to hear the hatred in Bruce's voice. The man seemed to have a personal vendetta against Joe.
"I don't get it, what did he ever do to you? He never met you before."
"Oh, I know he doesn't know me, or Massalski, but we know him."
Frank decided that Bruce had either mistaken Joe for someone else, or he was just plain crazy. It's a trick. That's all it is. They're trying to scare me.
"I think that's enough! You've already messed up once, and I'm not letting you mess it up again," Morris spoke up roughly to Mr. Garcia.
His colleague looked as if he was about to retort, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he turned to Frank.
"Now, let's see if you gave us the right chip," Garcia said, opening the case. "If not, one of these two will die," he added. He pointed toward Callie and Phil.
Frank knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the displeased frown on Garcia's face. What had gone wrong? I've given him the real chip.
Garcia looked at Frank levelly. "What are you trying to play, kid? You think I'm a fool by double-crossing me?" he roared.
"That's the thing you wanted," he replied firmly, trying to look confident at the same time.
"Are you saying that's not the chip?" Morris asked Garcia.
"EDSP123," Garcia read the printed label. "The same one that's been exchanged from my desk."
"Wait, I can explain –"
But Morris had slammed his fist toward Frank's midsection before he could continue.
Frank felt the air rushed out of his lungs. He gasped, and took a big gulp of air.
"Looks like we have a problem here," Garcia said, tossing the case back to Frank. It landed on Frank's lap.
"I said I can explain – No!" Frank shouted in horror when Morris trained his gun directly toward Callie's head. He pulled the trigger.
Bang!