"Should....should we read it?" Biff asked nervously.
"No," Phil answered. "Frank wouldn't have told Joe about it. And if Joe had found it, it would have been opened."
Callie's eyes were bright as she looked into Phil's. "Frank wasn't expecting to come back," she said. "He's gone on dangerous missions before but he's never..."
"That we know of," Chet interrupted her forcibly. "Frank's always thinking ahead. Maybe he made that a long time ago."
"Possible," Phil admitted, but it was obvious he did not agree. "But for him to leave it under his pillow means Callie was right. He wasn't expecting to make it back alive."
"So Frank's probably going to die and Joe may be dead already," Chet stated. "This can't be happening."
"It's not," Biff spoke up. "We're going to find Joe and if we're lucky, Frank too."
"Right," agreed Tony. "We know this fiasco started in Conover so that's where we start looking."
"First thing in the morning," Phil seconded the idea. "It's too late to start tonight."
"We'll take my van," volunteered Biff. "So be at my place at six sharp."
"Callie, maybe you should wait at home," suggested Phil, attempting to protect her. "If Frank gets a chance or Joe escapes, they will probably call you."
"Yeah, right," Callie agreed sarcastically. "I'm taking my cell phone. If either of them call, they'll use that number."
The next morning, Biff pulled into the parking lot of a little cafe advertising an all you can eat breakfast bar. Before getting out, Phil handed each of the teens the pictures of Wolfe and Ward that he had downloaded and printed before leaving the Hardys the previous evening.
"We can start asking around in here," Phil said. "But try to keep a low profile. If they think we're getting to close..."
"They'll kill Joe," Callie finished for him.
"Or us," added Tony.
Having no luck over breakfast, the teens left the van parked at the edge of the lot and set out on foot after agreeing to meet back at the van at noon.
Chet, having asked almost everyone he had seen about the two men, was on his way back to the van when two men, one tall and muscular and the other a bit shorter than Chet's own five eleven frame, stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"We hear you're looking for a couple of guys," said the tall one, his blue eyes intense as they bored into Chet.
"Why are you looking for them?" the other guy asked a suddenly paralyzed Chet. "Are they friends of yours?"
The door opened and Frank saw the strongman from before and a new guy. Neither of them spoke but walked over to where Frank sat near Gray and pulled him to his feet.
"What do you want?" Frank demanded as he was hauled out the door, but no answer came. One man relocked the door behind them then they hustled Frank down the corridor to where a third man stood. Frank was taken inside and forced to sit on a heavy wooden chair which had been secured to the far wall. His ankles were secured to the bottom of the chair with leg irons and then he was left alone.
It had taken most of the morning, but Joe had finally found a water supply. He had been looking for a viable source for almost an hour when he became aware of an aroma uncommon in the woods: cigarette smoke.
Joe stopped moving and listened. Soon, he could hear approaching footsteps. As quietly as possible, Joe headed in the opposite direction. About a mile later, Joe sank to his knees in the weeds by a group of trees. He noticed the ground around him was damp. After listening to make sure there wasn't anyone in the immediate vicinity, Joe followed the damp ground as it became muddier to where water was seeping through some rocks.
Joe drank deeply then poured the stale water from his canteen and refilled it with fresh. He grinned because now he wouldn't have to use the honey bun wrapper to gather moisture by building a still. The more he had searched, the surer he had become one would have been necessary, but thanks to having to alter his course, it no longer was. Of course, if the terrorist stumbled across the area then he might yet have to resort to one.
Joe looked back the way he had come. He had left tracks on the soft ground. How was he going to cover those up? He looked around for something, hoping to get an idea. He grabbed a fallen branch and tried smoothing his tracks away but it only made it more obvious someone had been there. Joe groaned. A great source of water and he would be taking a chance every time he returned.
Sighing, he drank his fill from the canteen then refilled it once more before leaving the area back the way he had come. If the enemy did set up a future ambush they might only arrange it in one direction. Okay, so it was wishful thinking, but he might get lucky.
No time to think about that. Joe shook his head. Enough worrying about his own survival, now it was time to think about saving Frank. He had to get busy. First, he needed some rope. He knew he could make some from organic materials in the woods but since the enemy already knew he was around, and it was quicker, he would just have to steal what he needed from them.
First things first. He had to take care of the men searching for him. Tonight, while they were 'hunting' him, he would infiltrate their camp, take what he needed and set traps. Once they were out of the way one of two things would happen and as far as he was concerned, both were positive. They would send in reinforcements, which he would also trap and thus reduce the number of Assassins at the fortress or they would cut their losses and leave him alone thus allowing him the run of the forest to arrange his assault on the encampment which held his brother.
Joe's stomach growled. Can't do anything on an empty stomach. It was time to check his fish trap and then, if he were lucky, build a small fire under the outcropping of rocks by the lake where there would be less chance of the smoke being seen. Joe grinned in anticipation. If the circumstances had been different, he could really be enjoying himself.
"I...uh..." Chet stuttered, unsure how to respond. Swallowing, he took first one step back, turning his hands into fists, then brought his foot forward again and let his right fist connect with the jaw of the man taller than himself.
Chet prepared to run as the man fell but an ominous click held him in place. He looked at the weapon in the hand of the other man. It was aimed at Chet's heart.
"No," Phil answered. "Frank wouldn't have told Joe about it. And if Joe had found it, it would have been opened."
Callie's eyes were bright as she looked into Phil's. "Frank wasn't expecting to come back," she said. "He's gone on dangerous missions before but he's never..."
"That we know of," Chet interrupted her forcibly. "Frank's always thinking ahead. Maybe he made that a long time ago."
"Possible," Phil admitted, but it was obvious he did not agree. "But for him to leave it under his pillow means Callie was right. He wasn't expecting to make it back alive."
"So Frank's probably going to die and Joe may be dead already," Chet stated. "This can't be happening."
"It's not," Biff spoke up. "We're going to find Joe and if we're lucky, Frank too."
"Right," agreed Tony. "We know this fiasco started in Conover so that's where we start looking."
"First thing in the morning," Phil seconded the idea. "It's too late to start tonight."
"We'll take my van," volunteered Biff. "So be at my place at six sharp."
"Callie, maybe you should wait at home," suggested Phil, attempting to protect her. "If Frank gets a chance or Joe escapes, they will probably call you."
"Yeah, right," Callie agreed sarcastically. "I'm taking my cell phone. If either of them call, they'll use that number."
The next morning, Biff pulled into the parking lot of a little cafe advertising an all you can eat breakfast bar. Before getting out, Phil handed each of the teens the pictures of Wolfe and Ward that he had downloaded and printed before leaving the Hardys the previous evening.
"We can start asking around in here," Phil said. "But try to keep a low profile. If they think we're getting to close..."
"They'll kill Joe," Callie finished for him.
"Or us," added Tony.
Having no luck over breakfast, the teens left the van parked at the edge of the lot and set out on foot after agreeing to meet back at the van at noon.
Chet, having asked almost everyone he had seen about the two men, was on his way back to the van when two men, one tall and muscular and the other a bit shorter than Chet's own five eleven frame, stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"We hear you're looking for a couple of guys," said the tall one, his blue eyes intense as they bored into Chet.
"Why are you looking for them?" the other guy asked a suddenly paralyzed Chet. "Are they friends of yours?"
The door opened and Frank saw the strongman from before and a new guy. Neither of them spoke but walked over to where Frank sat near Gray and pulled him to his feet.
"What do you want?" Frank demanded as he was hauled out the door, but no answer came. One man relocked the door behind them then they hustled Frank down the corridor to where a third man stood. Frank was taken inside and forced to sit on a heavy wooden chair which had been secured to the far wall. His ankles were secured to the bottom of the chair with leg irons and then he was left alone.
It had taken most of the morning, but Joe had finally found a water supply. He had been looking for a viable source for almost an hour when he became aware of an aroma uncommon in the woods: cigarette smoke.
Joe stopped moving and listened. Soon, he could hear approaching footsteps. As quietly as possible, Joe headed in the opposite direction. About a mile later, Joe sank to his knees in the weeds by a group of trees. He noticed the ground around him was damp. After listening to make sure there wasn't anyone in the immediate vicinity, Joe followed the damp ground as it became muddier to where water was seeping through some rocks.
Joe drank deeply then poured the stale water from his canteen and refilled it with fresh. He grinned because now he wouldn't have to use the honey bun wrapper to gather moisture by building a still. The more he had searched, the surer he had become one would have been necessary, but thanks to having to alter his course, it no longer was. Of course, if the terrorist stumbled across the area then he might yet have to resort to one.
Joe looked back the way he had come. He had left tracks on the soft ground. How was he going to cover those up? He looked around for something, hoping to get an idea. He grabbed a fallen branch and tried smoothing his tracks away but it only made it more obvious someone had been there. Joe groaned. A great source of water and he would be taking a chance every time he returned.
Sighing, he drank his fill from the canteen then refilled it once more before leaving the area back the way he had come. If the enemy did set up a future ambush they might only arrange it in one direction. Okay, so it was wishful thinking, but he might get lucky.
No time to think about that. Joe shook his head. Enough worrying about his own survival, now it was time to think about saving Frank. He had to get busy. First, he needed some rope. He knew he could make some from organic materials in the woods but since the enemy already knew he was around, and it was quicker, he would just have to steal what he needed from them.
First things first. He had to take care of the men searching for him. Tonight, while they were 'hunting' him, he would infiltrate their camp, take what he needed and set traps. Once they were out of the way one of two things would happen and as far as he was concerned, both were positive. They would send in reinforcements, which he would also trap and thus reduce the number of Assassins at the fortress or they would cut their losses and leave him alone thus allowing him the run of the forest to arrange his assault on the encampment which held his brother.
Joe's stomach growled. Can't do anything on an empty stomach. It was time to check his fish trap and then, if he were lucky, build a small fire under the outcropping of rocks by the lake where there would be less chance of the smoke being seen. Joe grinned in anticipation. If the circumstances had been different, he could really be enjoying himself.
"I...uh..." Chet stuttered, unsure how to respond. Swallowing, he took first one step back, turning his hands into fists, then brought his foot forward again and let his right fist connect with the jaw of the man taller than himself.
Chet prepared to run as the man fell but an ominous click held him in place. He looked at the weapon in the hand of the other man. It was aimed at Chet's heart.