I don't own any of the Hardys.
"Where's Joe?" worried Frank.
"Maybe he got lost," said Lach. She was too happy to be concerned.
The mission had been a success. The agents had rescued their kidnapped colleagues, and then a CIA team had descended upon the building and captured everybody inside. It would take some time for all the confiscated equipment and paperwork to be analyzed, but, for all intents and purposed, they seemed to have hit the jackpot and neutralized Wassa headquarters.
"I know I shouldn't want revenge but am I ever glad I've got it! The guys who killed my parents, who kidnapped Michael and Patrick and a bunch of government agents, have been caught!" Lach's eyes brimmed with tears, but Frank didn't notice. He was dialing his brother's number.
"Joe!" he almost shouted.
"Frank? What's happening?"
"Where are you? Get over here right away!"
"Huh? Where's here?" asked Joe, completely confused.
"Didn't you get the message? Come to the embassy, now!"
"Message?" Joe took the phone away from his ear and looked at it. He noticed a line of print blinking on the screen: "One new message."
"Uh, Frank? I guess I missed the message… I'll explain when I get there. I'm leaving now."
Frank hung up, shaking his head. "That boy. Too often, I have to remind myself that Joe actually is smart. He gets into so many hare-brained situations…" Quite suddenly, he noticed Lach's tears. "Oh! Are you… will you be all right?"
Lach turned her shining eyes to his and didn't speak. She raised her hands to her face and nodded.
Lachlan lay on the Hardys' couch, watching the ten o'clock news. The anchor mentioned the recent bankruptcies of a couple of Boston courier companies and the resulting impact on the harbour, and the memories came flooding back. Almost five months had passed since Lach had returned from Saudi Arabia, and she was doing a good job of ignoring the events of June and July, but sometimes she felt that those months would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Lachlan and Frank were attending New York University, and were currently home for the Thanksgiving holiday. Joe had surprised himself and had earned all A's on his first-term report card. Since Frank had left home, his life had become much emptier, and he could spend more time on his studies. Fenton had spent most of the fall in either Riyadh or Boston, working with the Agency to completely unravel the far-reaching threads of the Wassa organization.
David and Ruth decided to take a year off working, and live off their substantial income and remuneration from the Agency, in order to spend time with Michael and Patrick. Both boys were recovering fairly well from their kidnapping, and had not been told the extent of their parents' harrowing experience.
Lachlan turned off the television and padded into the kitchen. She cut herself a piece of cake that Joe had made. He'd turned out to be an eager student of hers in the summer, and had practised quite a bit in the autumn. Lach poured herself a glass of milk and found Laura reading in bed.
"Laura?" Lach said, sitting beside her and wrapping an afghan around her shoulders. "In most of the cases that Fenton and Frank and Joe work on, is anybody kidnapped?"
"Well, no. Sometimes they're kidnapped, but not very frequently. Why?"
Ignoring the question, Lach posed another of her own. "Are people killed very often in the course of the investigation?"
"No. I suppose they work murder cases a fair bit, but nobody else dies, usually. Lachlan, why are you asking me these questions?"
In a whisper, Lach answered, "I just wanted to make sure that what I've been through… that I'm one of very few people in this world."