"Joe!" Frank shouted, looking at the person beneath him.
Joe moaned in pain. "Can you please get off me?" he asked, straining each word.
Mr. Hardy stood up, followed by Frank. They helped Joe up and led him into the living room. Frank went for the first aid kit after Mr. Hardy flipped on the lights.
Joe's face was bruised where Freddie had slapped him around and his wrists were rubbed raw from working himself free of his bonds.
Joe still wore a handcuff on his left wrist. He had managed to bang his wrists against the concrete wall he had been placed against until one of the cuffs had been broken.
"Ouch!" Joe winced, and jerked away from the alcohol swab Frank was applying to his sore face.
"Sorry," Frank said, although he had been as gentle as possible.
"There," said Mr. Hardy, removing the other cuff from Joe's wrist.
"Thanks Dad, Frank," Joe said, leaning back. He was exhausted. The crooks hideout had been a deserted warehouse about two miles away. After being left in the building, it had taken him almost an hour to break the handcuff and untie his feet. After freeing himself from that, he had discovered he was locked in. Unable to break the door or pick the lock, he had decided his only means of escape was through the skylight.
Using old crates to create a makeshift ladder, he had gotten at least fourteen feet off the ground when he stepped on a rotted crate and went crashing to the floor, ripping his clothes and giving him more reasons to wince in pain.
He rebuilt the ladder, checking the crates as he stacked them this time, and made it to the skylight. Not wanting to frighten anyone by hitching a ride in his present condition, he had walked home.
He closed his eyes. He was going to tell his dad and Frank what had happened, but he was so tired. A minute later, he was asleep.
When he awoke, the sun was shining through his bedroom window. 'Frank and Dad must have carried me to bed,' he thought as he sat up. Closing his eyes and moaning, he pushed back the cover and stood up.
"How are you feeling?" Frank asked, walking into Joe's room carrying a tray.
"Like I was run over by a freight train," Joe said, sitting back down. Frank set the tray down beside Joe.
"Eat up," Frank urged him. "Dad and Chief Collig are down the hall. They want to know what happened yesterday." He watched as Joe dug into the eggs and sausage. "You can shower and change then come into Dad's office," Frank said as Joe picked up his orange juice and polished it off. "We'll be waiting."
Twenty minutes later, Joe walked into Mr. Hardy's office and sat down. Then he told everyone what had taken place since he and Frank had entered the bank.
"Think you could pick them from some mug shots?" Chief Collig asked.
"Sure," Joe affirmed. "Especially Greg."
"Why him specifically?" Frank asked.
"It's his eyes," Joe said after thinking about it for a minute. "The left one looks like he's always looking behind him."
"After you finish at headquarters, I want you two to go over to Thompson Security," Mr. Hardy told his sons. "Frank you are going to be a technical engineer's assistant in the visual department. Joe, you are going to need a disguise. I want you to apply as a general handyman. You'll be able to see everyone who works there and notice anything out of the ordinary."
Mr. Hardy reached behind him and took a book from his bookcase. Handing it to Frank, he said, "You won't need as elaborate disguise as Joe, but you will need one. While Joe's looking at mug shots, you need to skim this book. It explains how satellites are used for alarm systems. It's only a primer, but it might help you spot any irregularities."
"What are you going to do?" Joe asked his father.
"I'm going back to Hanover Industries," he said. "I have a few leads to follow up on."
"Joe, you can ride with me to headquarters and Frank can pick you up later," Chief Collig suggested.
When Frank picked Joe up at the police station, he was driving his girlfriend's blue Nova and sporting a mustache. His hair was a shade darker and he was dressed in a three-piece suit.
"I'm going to drop you off at Callie's. She'll help you with your disguise," Frank told Joe. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to go together," he added. "And don't forget to use an alias," he reminded Joe as he pulled up in front of Callie Shaw's house.
A blond-headed, seventeen-year-old girl came down the walkway. "What did you think of him?" Callie asked Joe, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Not bad," Joe admitted, getting out of the car. "It looks real at any rate," he added.
"Wait until you see what we have in mind for you," she told Joe. Waving goodbye to Frank, she led the way inside.
"Hi, Joe," Callie's father called from the kitchen. "Callie, take him up to the bathroom," he ordered his daughter.
"Dad is getting into this," Callie told Joe as they went upstairs. "He used to do the make-up for the Bayport Foundation of the Arts when they put on a performance."
"Here we go," Mr. Shaw said, coming into the bathroom. He looked at Joe through his wire glasses and studied him. "When we are finished, even Frank won't recognize you," he promised.
Joe got a temporary perm after having his hair dyed a dull reddish-orange. A light base foundation was put on to help hide his bruises and freckles were added to his face and arms.
Callie brought in some clothes. "Put these on," she told him. "Then come on downstairs."
Joe looked in the mirror. He barely recognized himself, but he knew his eyes were a dead giveaway. He guessed he would need to wear glasses. He put on the old, faded black jeans and sneakers Callie had brought him. Then he pulled on a tie-dyed tee shirt advertising a rock band Joe liked and went downstairs.
"You look great!" Callie said, praising her father's work.
"One more detail," Mr. Shaw decided as he inspected Joe's disguise. He walked over to the table and picked up a small box. "Put these in," Mr. Shaw told Joe, handing him the box.
Joe opened the lid and grinned. Lying there were a set of colored contact lenses. Joe went to the mirror and inserted the lenses. Looking at his reflection, he knew no one would recognize him.
"Red hair and green eyes?" Callie asked her dad. "Why not brown eyes?" she demanded. "He still looks..." she broke off as her father took over.
"Like a handsome young man," Mr. Shaw finished for her. Joe chuckled.
"That's not exactly what I was going to say," she said with a little pout.
"His appearance has to match his personality in order to be believable," Mr. Shaw informed his daughter.
"Let's have some lunch and then I will drop you off near Thompson Security," Mr. Shaw said with a smile. "I don't know about you two, but the pot roast Karen's cooking smells awfully good." Karen was Callie's mom.
"Thank you Sir," Joe said. "It does at that."
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While Joe was having lunch with the Shaws, Frank was sharing burgers and fries with his supervisor, Anthony Court. "Tell me, Frank," said Anthony smiling across the table at him. "Do you think you're going to like working for Thompson Security?"
"Yeah," Frank said with a grin. "My boss has made it seem like a lot of fun," he added.
"It is," Anthony agreed, getting serious. "Until recently, anyway," he added with a frown. At fifty-five, Anthony was still in good physical condition. He stood five foot ten and had brown hair and brown eyes.
"What happened recently?" Frank inquired.
"There's something wrong with the satellite," he told Frank. "But I can't figure out what. Good thing you are here," he added. "Maybe together we can find the problem and fix it."
"If you don't know what is wrong with the satellite, then how do you know something is?" Frank asked.
Anthony explained about the bank hold-up and a theft at Hanover Industries. "Somehow the camera is skipping time," he ended.
"I thought the satellite was on a five minute delay," Frank stated.
"It is," Anthony concurred. "But the thefts should still show after the delay. Instead, we're getting nothing."
"Could someone send a false feed?" Frank asked.
"I already checked the possibility," Anthony said with a slight shake of his head. "Not only could I not find a trace of an alien feed, but whoever would have sent it would have to of been able to record the area being surveyed and know exactly what time to insert the recording and the people in the room would have to be the same."
"So, an alien feed is impossible," Frank said with a thoughtful frown. "What about a virus?" he finally asked. "Do satellites get viruses?" he added as an afterthought.
"Frank, you're a genius!" Anthony said, standing up. "That would explain the time slip. Let's go back to work. But not the timing," he added, thinking the suggestion through. "But there may be more than one thing working against us here."
On the way out, Anthony told Frank that satellites were basically computers. "The feed goes directly into our computers at the office," Anthony informed Frank. "So naturally they can have viruses."
"But if it is a virus causing the problem, who could have put it there?" Frank asked. "Wouldn't it have to be inserted into the satellite?"
"No," Anthony denied. "The satellite could work just fine, but if our computer system has been breached then the virus would affect the data we receive."
They came to a stop at the red coupe Anthony drove. Anthony walked around to the driver's side and unlocked the door. He was about to climb into the car when a loud bang was heard.
Frank jerked his head around to see where the noise came from but jerked it back when he heard a thump directly across from him. Anthony had disappeared!
