Callie squeezed his shoulder, trying to offer him some measure of comfort. She was trying hard not to cry but felt a tear slip down her cheek. She didn't know if she was more upset because they had lost Joe or if it was because Frank looked to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
"Maybe they left a clue in the car?" Phil suggested.
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"Nothing," Fenton said a little later after he, Frank and the constable had gone over the car's interior.
"Well, a gum wrapper," Frank amended his father's statement, tossing the useless piece of trash to the ground.
"What about where the plane was kept?" Camille asked, her eyes lightning up. "I read a mystery where the crook stashed the cars he stole in one location for a few days until it was safe to relocate them."
"What does that have to do with the plane?" Biff demanded. He wasn't following her at all.
"The detective found where the guy was keeping the cars before moving them to the chop shop," Camille explained. "There was no car there but the detective did end up finding a clue that helped him solve the case."
"It's worth a shot," Frank said, perking up a little. They retraced the path of the plane and found the area where it had been hidden. "Fan out and keep sharp," Frank ordered everyone.
They searched for half a mile in each direction before realizing this, too, was a dead end. The Assassins had been meticulous in keeping the area free of anything other than footprints.
"What do we do now?" Chet asked.
"Go back to the states," Fenton answered, wearily rubbing at the tension induced knot on the back of his neck. "Maybe the Network can help."
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"We're landing!" Joe exclaimed in surprise, looking out of the window. "You said we were going to Canada," he accused Matt, turning to look at him.
"We are," Matt assured him. "We just aren't flying there. Now buckle up," he ordered. "We'll be touching down soon."
After landing at a private airfield, Matt took Joe's wrist and once again put a handcuff on it with the connecting one attached to his own wrist. "Sorry, Little Brother," he apologized. "But until I can trust you not to run away, you will have to remain close to me."
They and five other Assassins exited the plane with the pilot bringing up the rear. They had gotten less than ten yards from the plane when four shots rang out. As four of their group fell to the ground in deadly slumber, Matt took off pulling Joe with him. The pilot kept close on their heels.
"I think we lost them," the pilot gasped almost an hour later. Like Joe, he was a bit out of breath from the fast pace Matt had set and maintained.
"Who were they?" Matt snarled. "And how did they know we were landing there?"
"I told them," the pilot answered smugly, bringing a rock down on the back of Matt's head.
Joe went down with Matt. "Who are you?" he asked. "Network?"
"The only network I work for is run by the Tippoli family," the man replied. "And my orders were to bring you in." He bent down and released Joe.
"What about him?" inquired Joe, looking back at Matt.
"He dies now," was the reply. The man pulled out his gun and took aim.
"NO!" shouted Joe, even as Matt's foot flew up, knocking the weapon away. Matt leapt to his feet and took off running. The pilot latched onto Joe's arm before he, too, could run away. "Don't even think about it," he was warned.
Joe looked into the man's emotionless brown eyes and swallowed. 'From the fire back into the frying pan,' he thought.