Joe picked up the handset of the phone and opened it up. At once he spotted a piece of equipment that did not belong. Tom had snuck back up after they had gone to bed last night and re-bugged the house! His mouth set in a grim line; Joe checked the back of the computer. Sure enough, there was another device like the one Tom had removed the night before.
He wanted to yank them off and shove them down Tom's throat but until he had his father and Frank back he knew he had to play along. Doing his best to control his anger, he sat back down and typed in Meecham's name. If they wanted him to find McFadden, Meecham and the others: he would. But, he vowed silently, I won't be handling him the way they expect.
A few minutes later, Joe logged off and went to the file cabinet. He unlocked it and then began searching for a file on Morrison. Finding one, he pulled it out and scanned the material. Nothing he hadn't already seen online except for the notations in the sidelines his dad had made. Joe read about the notes on Leroy Nelson. Of course! Tom is trying to draw me away from Morrison's real contacts, he thought as realization hit. That's why only Frank's writing was changed. He expects dad to escape and come back. Morrison rigged this so we would trust Tom and take out Morrison's competition while believing we were working toward finding Frank. Oh yeah, Joe thought with relish. You have a BIG surprise coming!
Joe heard a car pull up out front and quickly put the file back in the cabinet and locked it back. He hurried down the stairs and to the front door, stopping Tom as he was about to open it. "Someone might be watching the house," Joe said. "You had better stay inside."
Tom nodded his agreement and returned to the living room as Joe opened the door and went outside to greet his friends before they could reach the porch.
"What have you got?" Biff asked as Joe approached.
"Plenty," Joe said. "To start with, Tom is still working for Morrison," he dropped the bombshell.
"What?" erupted Chet.
"Shh!" Joe urged him. "We can't let on that we know. Not until we get Frank back."
"What about your dad?" Phil inquired.
"I think they are going to let him escape," Joe answered then quickly brought the other boys up to speed on everything he had found out so far.
"That slimy rat," growled Chet. "I bet he never even signed on to teach the survival class until he found out you and Frank were taking it."
"You're probably right," agreed Joe. "I'm going to call Agent Boone and see if he will meet with me later," he continued. "But right now, I have something else I want to try." He looked at Biff. "It's kind of dangerous but I would appreciate your going with me and waiting in the car?"
"I won't stay in the car," Biff said. "I'm going with you all the way."
Joe shook his head. "No. If something goes wrong, I'll need you to go for the police."
"Fine," Biff agreed with a low growl.
"I need the rest of you to keep an eye on Tom. Pretend you're protecting him," he explained. "And if Dad comes home, which I believe he will, tell him about Tom before he gets a chance to talk to him."
"Will do," Phil promised.
"Let's go," Joe said to Biff and led the way to the van.
Biff frowned as Joe came to a stop in front of a bar in the seediest part of town. "You can't go in there," he argued, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder. "You aren't even old enough."
"Relax," Joe said, patting Biff's hand reassuringly. "I know what I'm doing." I hope! Joe climbed out of the van and headed toward the entrance.
"ID?" asked a large, muscle-bound man with short black hair and green eyes as Joe opened the door of the bar and stepped inside.
"I'm only looking for someone," Joe said. He couldn't have shown his driver's license to the man if he had wanted too. It was still in the house he had been imprisoned in.
"How original," sneered the bouncer. "Not! Now get out before I throw you out."
"I need to see Steve McFadden," Joe said as the bouncer stood to make good his threat.
"You're kidding, right?" the man laughed.
"No," Joe stated firmly, looking him in the eyes. "I need to see him. It's urgent."
"Wait here," Joe was ordered. "And if you take one step from this spot I will tear you limb from limb when I get back."
Joe watched while the large man moved to the back of the bar and disappeared through a door. As Joe waited for his return, he looked at the seedy dump that was referred to as a bar. The curtains were dark and moth-eaten and the entire place smelled like his mom's tofu surprise after it had been in the refrigerator for a week.
The joint's clientele was an odd assortment to be sure. Men who looked like they hadn't bathed in months were sitting at the same tables as men who wore three piece suits and were clean shaven and they were both nursing beers and, Joe assumed, talking at one point. Although right now, all eyes seemed to be on him and conversation in the bar was absent.
The bouncer returned with malicious grin lighting up his features. "Come with me," he told Joe.
Joe followed the man into the room at the back of the bar and stood silently as he left and shut the door behind him. He swallowed nervously when he saw his picture from Saturday's paper hanging over the dartboard with a multitude of tiny holes covering it.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" asked a man with short brown hair and green eyes as he leaned back in his chair and looked lazily at Joe.
"You control a lot of crime in this area," Joe began. "You have only one real enemy; Cash Morrison."
"You can't prove anything," McFadden said with a small snicker.
"I know all about the hold up at Feldman's and the local burglaries you and your men have been pulling," Joe continued, his stomach tightening as McFadden's eyes hardened and the movement from the corners of the room ceased.
"You do?" McFadden asked softly, his eyes glinting like steel. "And yet you came here? Alone? Did the article inflate your ego, Mr. Hardy?" he asked. "Do you expect that you are invincible, perhaps?"
Joe swallowed again as two men came up on either side of him and grasped his arms. They pulled Joe's arms up and back causing him to wince in pain. "You do realize, knowing what you do, that you won't be allowed to live?"
He wanted to yank them off and shove them down Tom's throat but until he had his father and Frank back he knew he had to play along. Doing his best to control his anger, he sat back down and typed in Meecham's name. If they wanted him to find McFadden, Meecham and the others: he would. But, he vowed silently, I won't be handling him the way they expect.
A few minutes later, Joe logged off and went to the file cabinet. He unlocked it and then began searching for a file on Morrison. Finding one, he pulled it out and scanned the material. Nothing he hadn't already seen online except for the notations in the sidelines his dad had made. Joe read about the notes on Leroy Nelson. Of course! Tom is trying to draw me away from Morrison's real contacts, he thought as realization hit. That's why only Frank's writing was changed. He expects dad to escape and come back. Morrison rigged this so we would trust Tom and take out Morrison's competition while believing we were working toward finding Frank. Oh yeah, Joe thought with relish. You have a BIG surprise coming!
Joe heard a car pull up out front and quickly put the file back in the cabinet and locked it back. He hurried down the stairs and to the front door, stopping Tom as he was about to open it. "Someone might be watching the house," Joe said. "You had better stay inside."
Tom nodded his agreement and returned to the living room as Joe opened the door and went outside to greet his friends before they could reach the porch.
"What have you got?" Biff asked as Joe approached.
"Plenty," Joe said. "To start with, Tom is still working for Morrison," he dropped the bombshell.
"What?" erupted Chet.
"Shh!" Joe urged him. "We can't let on that we know. Not until we get Frank back."
"What about your dad?" Phil inquired.
"I think they are going to let him escape," Joe answered then quickly brought the other boys up to speed on everything he had found out so far.
"That slimy rat," growled Chet. "I bet he never even signed on to teach the survival class until he found out you and Frank were taking it."
"You're probably right," agreed Joe. "I'm going to call Agent Boone and see if he will meet with me later," he continued. "But right now, I have something else I want to try." He looked at Biff. "It's kind of dangerous but I would appreciate your going with me and waiting in the car?"
"I won't stay in the car," Biff said. "I'm going with you all the way."
Joe shook his head. "No. If something goes wrong, I'll need you to go for the police."
"Fine," Biff agreed with a low growl.
"I need the rest of you to keep an eye on Tom. Pretend you're protecting him," he explained. "And if Dad comes home, which I believe he will, tell him about Tom before he gets a chance to talk to him."
"Will do," Phil promised.
"Let's go," Joe said to Biff and led the way to the van.
Biff frowned as Joe came to a stop in front of a bar in the seediest part of town. "You can't go in there," he argued, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder. "You aren't even old enough."
"Relax," Joe said, patting Biff's hand reassuringly. "I know what I'm doing." I hope! Joe climbed out of the van and headed toward the entrance.
"ID?" asked a large, muscle-bound man with short black hair and green eyes as Joe opened the door of the bar and stepped inside.
"I'm only looking for someone," Joe said. He couldn't have shown his driver's license to the man if he had wanted too. It was still in the house he had been imprisoned in.
"How original," sneered the bouncer. "Not! Now get out before I throw you out."
"I need to see Steve McFadden," Joe said as the bouncer stood to make good his threat.
"You're kidding, right?" the man laughed.
"No," Joe stated firmly, looking him in the eyes. "I need to see him. It's urgent."
"Wait here," Joe was ordered. "And if you take one step from this spot I will tear you limb from limb when I get back."
Joe watched while the large man moved to the back of the bar and disappeared through a door. As Joe waited for his return, he looked at the seedy dump that was referred to as a bar. The curtains were dark and moth-eaten and the entire place smelled like his mom's tofu surprise after it had been in the refrigerator for a week.
The joint's clientele was an odd assortment to be sure. Men who looked like they hadn't bathed in months were sitting at the same tables as men who wore three piece suits and were clean shaven and they were both nursing beers and, Joe assumed, talking at one point. Although right now, all eyes seemed to be on him and conversation in the bar was absent.
The bouncer returned with malicious grin lighting up his features. "Come with me," he told Joe.
Joe followed the man into the room at the back of the bar and stood silently as he left and shut the door behind him. He swallowed nervously when he saw his picture from Saturday's paper hanging over the dartboard with a multitude of tiny holes covering it.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" asked a man with short brown hair and green eyes as he leaned back in his chair and looked lazily at Joe.
"You control a lot of crime in this area," Joe began. "You have only one real enemy; Cash Morrison."
"You can't prove anything," McFadden said with a small snicker.
"I know all about the hold up at Feldman's and the local burglaries you and your men have been pulling," Joe continued, his stomach tightening as McFadden's eyes hardened and the movement from the corners of the room ceased.
"You do?" McFadden asked softly, his eyes glinting like steel. "And yet you came here? Alone? Did the article inflate your ego, Mr. Hardy?" he asked. "Do you expect that you are invincible, perhaps?"
Joe swallowed again as two men came up on either side of him and grasped his arms. They pulled Joe's arms up and back causing him to wince in pain. "You do realize, knowing what you do, that you won't be allowed to live?"