Chet slowly raised his hands. "Now, you will answer our questions," Shorty ordered Chet, his brown eyes hard as steel as his pal regained his composure and stood rubbing his jaw and glaring.
Chet remained silent, watching as Biff, who had been on his way back to the van and had seen the two men approach Chet, come up behind Shorty and his pal. Just as Biff reached them, the tall man spun around, whipping out his own handgun and trained it on Biff. "So you want to talk too?" he snarled, reaching out and snagging Biff's arm.
"I think it's time we went somewhere private," Shorty said, taking Chet's arm.
Frank stretched his arms and leaned first to his left and then to his right side. He had been sitting on the hard chair for hours, unable to get up because the leg irons were attached directly to the chair with no chain in between. His ankles were sore from having them rub against the metal every time he tried to move but that was nothing compared to the way his backside felt.
He remembered countless times he had sat in the padded courtroom chairs with only short breaks for lunch and a restroom break. On those long days he had been stiff and sore but that soreness had quickly faded once he had gotten to move around. This hard chair had caused the soreness to progress to a dull ache. Frank wondered if one could get hemorrhoids from sitting in a hard chair all day.
He sat up straighter and arched his back, clasping his hands together in a backward movement and thrusting his arms forward. If he kept stretching the parts of him that could move perhaps he wouldn't be too sore to escape if the chance arose.
He was just starting to bend forward again when the door opened and one of his captors walked in carrying a bowl. Frank could smell the aroma of the chicken soup and his stomach growled.
"Hello, Frank," Wolfe greeted him, smiling. "I thought you might be a little hungry by now so I brought you some soup." He came closer to Frank and held the bowl out to him.
Frank reached for it but Wolfe pulled it away. "Not until you answer a question."
"I'm not telling you anything," Frank asserted, his expression stony.
"Oh, come," Wolfe begged playfully. "Just tell me where Network headquarters is located and you can have the soup."
Frank's expression never changed, nor did he speak. "I told you, I'm a desperate man," Wolfe continued. He upturned the bowl of soup on Frank's head. "Perhaps you'll be ready to talk later. Who knows? It might be hot next time."
Wolfe went to the door and opened it. In walked the muscleman carrying a bucket of water. He poured it over Frank then left the room. Wolfe followed him out not even turning to look Frank again. Outside, Wolfe relocked the door then turned the thermostat on the temperature regulated room up to one hundred and four degrees.
"We'll give him an hour," Wolfe said. "Then we'll give him another chance to talk."
"Any news on Joe Hardy?" Afton asked.
"No," Wolfe replied with a scowl. "If he isn't found tonight, I'm doubling the search party."
Chet and Biff were led down the street and forced into the backseat of a navy Lexus. Shorty kept the handgun trained on the two boys as the other guy climbed behind the wheel and drove them to a motel on the outskirts of town. Once there, the two boys were ushered into a room where three other men were waiting. "They're kids," declared one of the men in surprise.
"I don't think there's an age limit for being a killer," one of the other men spit out.
"Open your mouths," Shorty ordered Biff and Chet.
"We're not telling you anything," Biff declared bravely although his knees were ready to buckle. Chet, however, never spoke. He was looking at the second man who had spoken with a curious expression.
"Open your mouths," Shorty ordered again, more gruffly. Chet opened his mouth and let one of the men prod his teeth. "Your turn," Shorty told Biff.
"It's okay," Chet said, glancing at his pal. "I think these guys are on our side."
Shorty's gaze narrowed on Chet as Biff opened his mouth and allowed his teeth to be poked. "No false ones," declared the man, stepping back.
"Wait a minute! You think we're Assassins!" Biff demanded in shocked surprise.
"Stupid ones at that," said the one man who hadn't spoken until now. He came to stand in front of the two boys as the others backed up a bit. "Why would you advertise you're looking for Wolfe and Ward?"
"Who are you?" Chet asked. "I mean, do you have any way of proving who you work for?"
The man stared into Chet's brown eyes for a moment then opened his own mouth wide. Chet stepped forward and checked his teeth. "You are one of the good guys," Chet said, smiling as he stepped back. He looked at Biff. "All the Assassins have a fake tooth holding a cyanide capsule."
"Now, would you care to tell me why two teenage boys are looking for two of the most notorious killers in the world?" the man asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"They kidnapped our friend," Biff informed them.
"Another teenager?" the man demanded in disbelief. Biff nodded. "Why would they be interested in a boy?"
"His name is Joe Hardy," Chet said. "His brother is..."
"Frank," the man said. "You're friends of Frank and Joe Hardy?" Both boys nodded.
"Why did you come here to look for these men? And why are you so sure they are the ones who kidnapped Joe?"
Chet informed the men about the attempted abduction over the weekend in Conover at the festival and about finding Ward's and Wolfe's pictures. He ended with the van being found abandoned.
"You two need to return to Bayport," they were ordered.
"Not without Joe," Biff insisted stubbornly.
Shorty frowned at him. "Do you know where Frank went?" he asked.
"Some survival camp sponsored by your operation," Chet answered.
"Not just any survival camp. This one was designed to lure and capture the leader of the Assassins," one of the men put in.
"No wonder Frank didn't want Joe going," Biff commented.
"The problem is, the Assassins found out about the camp before we leaked out the information," Shorty explained the situation to the two youths. "So when our men showed up to set up camp, they were ambushed. The Assassins now have control of the camp, which is a stone fortress set up to house a multitude of rooms for the purpose of preparing our agents for possible tortures they could encounter."
"You set up a building to torture your own men?" Biff demanded, his face whitening with shock.
The agent shrugged. "Preparation for this type of thing is more than fifty percent of our survival."
"But the Assassins have it now. And your agents to use it on," Biff said, still amazed at the stupidity of the Network.
"And Frank," Chet added in a strangled whisper.
Chet remained silent, watching as Biff, who had been on his way back to the van and had seen the two men approach Chet, come up behind Shorty and his pal. Just as Biff reached them, the tall man spun around, whipping out his own handgun and trained it on Biff. "So you want to talk too?" he snarled, reaching out and snagging Biff's arm.
"I think it's time we went somewhere private," Shorty said, taking Chet's arm.
Frank stretched his arms and leaned first to his left and then to his right side. He had been sitting on the hard chair for hours, unable to get up because the leg irons were attached directly to the chair with no chain in between. His ankles were sore from having them rub against the metal every time he tried to move but that was nothing compared to the way his backside felt.
He remembered countless times he had sat in the padded courtroom chairs with only short breaks for lunch and a restroom break. On those long days he had been stiff and sore but that soreness had quickly faded once he had gotten to move around. This hard chair had caused the soreness to progress to a dull ache. Frank wondered if one could get hemorrhoids from sitting in a hard chair all day.
He sat up straighter and arched his back, clasping his hands together in a backward movement and thrusting his arms forward. If he kept stretching the parts of him that could move perhaps he wouldn't be too sore to escape if the chance arose.
He was just starting to bend forward again when the door opened and one of his captors walked in carrying a bowl. Frank could smell the aroma of the chicken soup and his stomach growled.
"Hello, Frank," Wolfe greeted him, smiling. "I thought you might be a little hungry by now so I brought you some soup." He came closer to Frank and held the bowl out to him.
Frank reached for it but Wolfe pulled it away. "Not until you answer a question."
"I'm not telling you anything," Frank asserted, his expression stony.
"Oh, come," Wolfe begged playfully. "Just tell me where Network headquarters is located and you can have the soup."
Frank's expression never changed, nor did he speak. "I told you, I'm a desperate man," Wolfe continued. He upturned the bowl of soup on Frank's head. "Perhaps you'll be ready to talk later. Who knows? It might be hot next time."
Wolfe went to the door and opened it. In walked the muscleman carrying a bucket of water. He poured it over Frank then left the room. Wolfe followed him out not even turning to look Frank again. Outside, Wolfe relocked the door then turned the thermostat on the temperature regulated room up to one hundred and four degrees.
"We'll give him an hour," Wolfe said. "Then we'll give him another chance to talk."
"Any news on Joe Hardy?" Afton asked.
"No," Wolfe replied with a scowl. "If he isn't found tonight, I'm doubling the search party."
Chet and Biff were led down the street and forced into the backseat of a navy Lexus. Shorty kept the handgun trained on the two boys as the other guy climbed behind the wheel and drove them to a motel on the outskirts of town. Once there, the two boys were ushered into a room where three other men were waiting. "They're kids," declared one of the men in surprise.
"I don't think there's an age limit for being a killer," one of the other men spit out.
"Open your mouths," Shorty ordered Biff and Chet.
"We're not telling you anything," Biff declared bravely although his knees were ready to buckle. Chet, however, never spoke. He was looking at the second man who had spoken with a curious expression.
"Open your mouths," Shorty ordered again, more gruffly. Chet opened his mouth and let one of the men prod his teeth. "Your turn," Shorty told Biff.
"It's okay," Chet said, glancing at his pal. "I think these guys are on our side."
Shorty's gaze narrowed on Chet as Biff opened his mouth and allowed his teeth to be poked. "No false ones," declared the man, stepping back.
"Wait a minute! You think we're Assassins!" Biff demanded in shocked surprise.
"Stupid ones at that," said the one man who hadn't spoken until now. He came to stand in front of the two boys as the others backed up a bit. "Why would you advertise you're looking for Wolfe and Ward?"
"Who are you?" Chet asked. "I mean, do you have any way of proving who you work for?"
The man stared into Chet's brown eyes for a moment then opened his own mouth wide. Chet stepped forward and checked his teeth. "You are one of the good guys," Chet said, smiling as he stepped back. He looked at Biff. "All the Assassins have a fake tooth holding a cyanide capsule."
"Now, would you care to tell me why two teenage boys are looking for two of the most notorious killers in the world?" the man asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"They kidnapped our friend," Biff informed them.
"Another teenager?" the man demanded in disbelief. Biff nodded. "Why would they be interested in a boy?"
"His name is Joe Hardy," Chet said. "His brother is..."
"Frank," the man said. "You're friends of Frank and Joe Hardy?" Both boys nodded.
"Why did you come here to look for these men? And why are you so sure they are the ones who kidnapped Joe?"
Chet informed the men about the attempted abduction over the weekend in Conover at the festival and about finding Ward's and Wolfe's pictures. He ended with the van being found abandoned.
"You two need to return to Bayport," they were ordered.
"Not without Joe," Biff insisted stubbornly.
Shorty frowned at him. "Do you know where Frank went?" he asked.
"Some survival camp sponsored by your operation," Chet answered.
"Not just any survival camp. This one was designed to lure and capture the leader of the Assassins," one of the men put in.
"No wonder Frank didn't want Joe going," Biff commented.
"The problem is, the Assassins found out about the camp before we leaked out the information," Shorty explained the situation to the two youths. "So when our men showed up to set up camp, they were ambushed. The Assassins now have control of the camp, which is a stone fortress set up to house a multitude of rooms for the purpose of preparing our agents for possible tortures they could encounter."
"You set up a building to torture your own men?" Biff demanded, his face whitening with shock.
The agent shrugged. "Preparation for this type of thing is more than fifty percent of our survival."
"But the Assassins have it now. And your agents to use it on," Biff said, still amazed at the stupidity of the Network.
"And Frank," Chet added in a strangled whisper.