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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Hardys.
Fenton, Frank, Joe and Lachlan ate a late supper of spaghetti and garlic bread, with fresh apple pie for dessert. Afterwards, they sat in the family room and tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. The TV was on, and books were in hands, but nobody could focus.
"I'm going to bed," Fenton finally said, putting down the newspaper. "I've read this article three times and I have no idea what it's about."
Lach empathized. She was trying to read, as well, and was just as successful.
"Let's play a game," said Joe.
"What?"
He shrugged. "Lach, go pick a game from the closet."
"I don't care what we play," she said, staring at the shelves.
"Close your eyes, jump up and down three times, and point to one," said Joe.
Lach complied. "Trivial Pursuit," she announced.
"Oh no," moaned Joe.
Frank laughed. "Serves you right."
Lach glanced between them. "I can pick another…"
"No, don't," Frank said, still chuckling. "Let's play it. It's my favourite game," he explained, "but Joe, as you can tell, hates it. He only ever gets the sports ones right."
Lach grinned. She liked the game, too.
At eight o'clock the next morning, Frank was sitting by the window of a small commuter plane. Joe sat in the seat ahead of him, fast asleep. On Frank's left sat Lachlan, and across the aisle, in the only other seat in the row, was Fenton Hardy. He was studying a folder intensely. Lachlan was doing a crossword puzzle. Frank was bored and antsy. He wanted to be in Boston already, investigating. He could feel the concern Lachlan felt for the James kids. She'd known them less than a month, but she was prepared to do anything she had to for them.
Upon arrival in Boston, the Hardys and Lachlan rented a car and checked into a hotel. Lach was shocked at the poshness. She whispered to Frank, "Why are we at such an expensive hotel? We're not on vacation or anything."
Frank replied, "If the bad guys discover us and come looking for us, they wouldn't check the fancy places first. Anyways, we're only getting one room. May as well be comfortable. And maybe Dad'll convince the government to foot the bill."
Their room was on the eighth floor. It contained two queen beds and a hideabed chesterfield, plus a table and four chairs, a large closet and a spacious bathroom with a hot-tub-sized Jacuzzi. Lach wished she were here under happier circumstances so that she could enjoy her stay.
The four ate lunch in the hotel lobby, and then drove to the warehouse they'd read about. It was old and made out of grey corrugated steel. It was two stories tall, but inside, there probably was only one dirty cement floor, with walls stretching up to the steel-trussed roof. There didn't appear to be any windows, but there were several bays and a regular-sized door.
"Nobody seems to be around," commented Frank.
"When you're smuggling stuff, you try to be discreet," Joe said.
"But you try to act normal. You come and go like a regular company would. You don't pretend like your headquarters is abandoned," argued Frank.
"It's Saturday," pointed out Lachlan, and both boys looked sheepish. Fenton smiled to himself.
"Very true," he said. "Though here, near the docks, not a lot stops for the weekend. Ships come and go."
They had circumnavigated the warehouse, and had found nothing of interest in the alley at the back. A dumpster, garbage in the gutters, the smell of urine and worse.
"What do we do now?" asked Lach.
"We go in," said Joe, moving towards the door.
"Wait," said Fenton and Frank together. Fenton went on, "Let's go down the street some and watch. Things may not all be as they seem."
Lach nodded, and Joe sighed. Lach grinned at him. "I hate waiting, too."
He looked at her, surprised. "You've never seemed impatient to me."
"That's 'cause she has enough discipline to suppress it," explained Frank, grinning at Joe.
The four walked down the road and ducked into a narrow space between buildings. Here they were out of sight of the street, but they could also keep an eye on the warehouse.
Nothing happened for a long time. Lach hummed to herself. Frank found himself joining her, before telling her to be quiet, so as to avoid giving themselves away. Joe's stomach rumbled. Fenton kept glancing at his watch.
"What, exactly, are we waiting for?" asked Lach finally, in a whisper. Her discipline had run out.
Frank shrugged. "We'll know when it happens. Stakeouts always work immediately in the movies, but they're boring as anything in real life."
"Tell me about it," muttered Joe.
"There," hissed Fenton, and the three teenagers gathered around him, trying to peer out of the alcove. "One at a time," he whispered.
Three men, wearing the sort of clothes construction workers might wear, emerged from the northernmost bay door of the warehouse. The door was rolled only halfway up, and when the third man pushed a button on a remote control, the door slid shut.
"Let's follow them," said Fenton. "I'll go first. You kids follow farther behind. Every so often, we'll change the lead man. Or woman, excuse me. Lachlan, remember what you've learnt from the movies, it'll probably help. Don't be conspicuous–" He glanced out into the street again. "Okay, I'm going. Boys, finish the explanation. And Lach, I don't want you to be the last person in the line, all right?" Without waiting for a reply, he sauntered off down the road.
"Don't lose sight of the person ahead of you." Frank took over where Fenton had left off. "If you want the person behind you to move in front of you, cough once and make sure that the person knows what you're doing. If you want the person behind to catch up, do the coughing routine twice. Joe, you'd better go now. Change sides of the street when the order changes. You're a girl; you can put your hair up or something when you change positions. Um, any questions?"
Lach considered. "No." She was excited as all get out, but avoided showing it.
"Okay, then. When Joe gets to the end of that block, you can go."
They watched Joe's progress from their hiding place. The corner neared. Frank put a hand on her shoulder just before she went. Lach turned back and looked at him expectantly. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and shook his head. "Good luck," he said simply.
Lach smiled. "Thanks."