Joe wiggled his nose as sandpaper rubbed against its tip. He moved his head sideways and moaned. Why did they always have to use chloroform? he wondered, feeling the nausea rising in him.
He jerked his head and opened his eyes. Sandpaper? He couldn't help but give a little laugh as he realized the 'sandpaper' was the tongue of a frisky little kitten. Joe shook his head and tried to rise. The kitten jumped off Joe and landed on the floor then went scampering for the safety of darkness beneath the dresser.
Joe looked down when he couldn't sit up and saw a length of nylon rope criss-crossing his body tying him to the bed he was on. He tried twisting but the rope was a snug fit and wouldn't give. His hands, arms and legs had been bound close to his body with gray tape. The rope was obviously only an added measure to keep him in a prone position.
Joe looked around his prison. It was a nice room even if a bit girlish with lupine walls and deep purple drapes covering what he assumed (from their length and width) to be balcony doors.
There was a dresser and mirror against the wall nearest him and scattered around the rest of the remainder of the room were a desk and chair and a stereo system. There were two doors on the opposite end of the room, one leading into a bathroom and the other possibly no more than a closet.
Joe grunted and tried once more to wiggle free as the kitten watched, its eyes glowing from the reflected light entering the room from the hall via the open door to Joe's left. With an angry sigh Joe gave up his struggles. At least they haven't gagged me, he thought. Yet!
He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs. "HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
He held his breath and waited. Seconds later he heard unhurried footsteps coming his way and soon a tall man with green eyes and wavy brown hair stood silhouetted in the doorway. The man reached out and flipped on the light switch.
Joe blinked as the bright light blinded him briefly. Focusing, he glared at his captor. "Who are you?" demanded Joe although he already knew.
"Cash Morrison," the man replied coming close enough to stare down into Joe's face. "The question is..." he smiled thinly at Joe, his green eyes hard. "Who are you?"
Joe swallowed. Should he tell the truth now that they had him? Why not? "Joe Hardy," Joe replied, his chin jutting up defiantly as he spoke.
Morrison laughed. "I think not," he said once his laughter had died. "Joseph Leland, perhaps."
"Check my wallet!" Joe retorted.
"I have," Morrison confessed, removing Joe's wallet from his own side pocket and opening it up. "Hardy did try to give you a good cover," he continued, pulling out cards one at a time. "Driver's license, gym club ID. Even a credit card," he added with a hearty laugh. "For a seventeen year old?" He laughed long and hard before sobering up. "No. Like the article, these too are phony. I know your father, kid, and you look exactly as he must have at your age," he ended, tossing the wallet and its contents to the floor beside the bed.
"Fine, I'm Joe Leland," Joe said, deciding he stood a better chance of surviving the next few hours if he weren't Fenton Hardy's son. "What do you want with me?"
"Your father betrayed me," Morrison informed Joe. "But there is time for him to put things right. You are my, shall I say, insurance policy?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Joe looking at him warily.
"It's nothing personal, Kid," Morrison told him with a small smile. "It's entirely business. Once Tom does what I want him to do then you will be released."
"And if he doesn't?"
"It won't come to that," Morrison assured him. "I'm sure he loves his son."
"He's in the witness protection program," Joe said. "You won't be able to let him know you have me so keeping me a prisoner is kind of pointless."
"That's not a problem," Morrsion stated.
"You never answered my question," Joe pushed. "If he doesn't do what you want, what are you going to do with me?"
"You will have to die," Morrison replied looking at Joe sympathetically. "When I tell your father your life depends on his cooperation he has to believe me." He held up his hands as if to say 'what can I do?'. "A man is only as good as his word, after all."
Morrison left the room and returned to the den where his lackeys were gathered. "Has Foster reported in yet?" he demanded.
"No," Picard answered. "But we did pick up something on Hardy's line."
"Hardy's son called," Grayhaven picked up. "He said the safe house blew up. The remains of two bodies were found."
"The Fed and a patsy Foster put in to take Tom's place," Morrison guessed, smiling. "Good. Good. If we have Tom then we won't have to blackmail him."
"What about his kid?" Moran asked, flicking a piece of lint off of his shoulder.
"We'll dispose of them both."
He jerked his head and opened his eyes. Sandpaper? He couldn't help but give a little laugh as he realized the 'sandpaper' was the tongue of a frisky little kitten. Joe shook his head and tried to rise. The kitten jumped off Joe and landed on the floor then went scampering for the safety of darkness beneath the dresser.
Joe looked down when he couldn't sit up and saw a length of nylon rope criss-crossing his body tying him to the bed he was on. He tried twisting but the rope was a snug fit and wouldn't give. His hands, arms and legs had been bound close to his body with gray tape. The rope was obviously only an added measure to keep him in a prone position.
Joe looked around his prison. It was a nice room even if a bit girlish with lupine walls and deep purple drapes covering what he assumed (from their length and width) to be balcony doors.
There was a dresser and mirror against the wall nearest him and scattered around the rest of the remainder of the room were a desk and chair and a stereo system. There were two doors on the opposite end of the room, one leading into a bathroom and the other possibly no more than a closet.
Joe grunted and tried once more to wiggle free as the kitten watched, its eyes glowing from the reflected light entering the room from the hall via the open door to Joe's left. With an angry sigh Joe gave up his struggles. At least they haven't gagged me, he thought. Yet!
He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs. "HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
He held his breath and waited. Seconds later he heard unhurried footsteps coming his way and soon a tall man with green eyes and wavy brown hair stood silhouetted in the doorway. The man reached out and flipped on the light switch.
Joe blinked as the bright light blinded him briefly. Focusing, he glared at his captor. "Who are you?" demanded Joe although he already knew.
"Cash Morrison," the man replied coming close enough to stare down into Joe's face. "The question is..." he smiled thinly at Joe, his green eyes hard. "Who are you?"
Joe swallowed. Should he tell the truth now that they had him? Why not? "Joe Hardy," Joe replied, his chin jutting up defiantly as he spoke.
Morrison laughed. "I think not," he said once his laughter had died. "Joseph Leland, perhaps."
"Check my wallet!" Joe retorted.
"I have," Morrison confessed, removing Joe's wallet from his own side pocket and opening it up. "Hardy did try to give you a good cover," he continued, pulling out cards one at a time. "Driver's license, gym club ID. Even a credit card," he added with a hearty laugh. "For a seventeen year old?" He laughed long and hard before sobering up. "No. Like the article, these too are phony. I know your father, kid, and you look exactly as he must have at your age," he ended, tossing the wallet and its contents to the floor beside the bed.
"Fine, I'm Joe Leland," Joe said, deciding he stood a better chance of surviving the next few hours if he weren't Fenton Hardy's son. "What do you want with me?"
"Your father betrayed me," Morrison informed Joe. "But there is time for him to put things right. You are my, shall I say, insurance policy?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Joe looking at him warily.
"It's nothing personal, Kid," Morrison told him with a small smile. "It's entirely business. Once Tom does what I want him to do then you will be released."
"And if he doesn't?"
"It won't come to that," Morrison assured him. "I'm sure he loves his son."
"He's in the witness protection program," Joe said. "You won't be able to let him know you have me so keeping me a prisoner is kind of pointless."
"That's not a problem," Morrsion stated.
"You never answered my question," Joe pushed. "If he doesn't do what you want, what are you going to do with me?"
"You will have to die," Morrison replied looking at Joe sympathetically. "When I tell your father your life depends on his cooperation he has to believe me." He held up his hands as if to say 'what can I do?'. "A man is only as good as his word, after all."
Morrison left the room and returned to the den where his lackeys were gathered. "Has Foster reported in yet?" he demanded.
"No," Picard answered. "But we did pick up something on Hardy's line."
"Hardy's son called," Grayhaven picked up. "He said the safe house blew up. The remains of two bodies were found."
"The Fed and a patsy Foster put in to take Tom's place," Morrison guessed, smiling. "Good. Good. If we have Tom then we won't have to blackmail him."
"What about his kid?" Moran asked, flicking a piece of lint off of his shoulder.
"We'll dispose of them both."