Please note, I have a very limited knowledge of technics (such as telephone technology) so I must really just use my imagination...so please don't flip...
Chapter 5
The Hardys ran up the three stone steps to the front door of Elina's home (which had no front porch as the ideal american house). Just as Frank was about to knock, Mrs. Elina swept the door open and threw herself at Fenton and cried and mumbled senselessly in a mixure of spanish and english. Fenoton embraced her comfortingly and guided her back into the house and tried to get her to calm down.
Her daughter was standing in the hallway looking confused.
"What's your name?" Frank asked her gently.
"Sara," she answered.
"Sara, can you go and get your mommy something to drink" he asked slowly to make sure she understood him.
She nodded and went into the kitchen.
Fenton made the stressful woman sit down in the living room, then sat beside her and told her to try to relax and breathe normally.
When she managed that at last, Sara came into the room and handed her mother a small wineglass filled with redwine and the usually calm and well-balanced woman downed it in one sip and gave the glass back to the girl, incating she wanted more.
"Now, senora, if you'd please tell me what happened..." Fenton pleaded.
Mrs. Elina took a deep breathe. "Well, I was just going to work when the telephone rang and when I answered it Salvatore's voice came through and he said that he was all right and he hadn't hurt him and he had excaped but he was lost and then he said he had to go because he was coming and somebody said something and he yelled and then there was just a...a porrazo- a...-a... -a thump! And then the line went dead."
Her eyes started watering again and she downed the second redwine glass that Sara had just brought her.
"Do you remember when exactly he called?" Fenton asked.
"Just before I called you," she said.
"That's about 10 a.m."
"Well, at least we know now he's a alive, that's good, right?" Joe said reassuringly and patted on her shoulder.
"At least we know he was alive this morning," Frank emended.
Joe sent his brother an evil glare as she started crying again. Sara sat on the arm of the couch and put her arm around her mother, she looked quizzically at Fenton.
"Let's look at the bright side, now we know it's a He, that kidnapped your husband," Joe said.
"Oh, Joe, for Chist's sake, be realistic!" Frank said.
"Why don't you try to be a little optimistic for a change?"
"Boys!" Fenton cut in sternly, "This is not the time nor place for arguments! Try and behave!"
The brothers blushed, shameful. "You're right...I'm sorry," Frank apologized.
Joe remained quiet and pouted.
Fenton sighed and decided to ignore his son's childish behaviour for now. He looked back at Mrs. Elina. "Look, here is what we're gonna do: We'll contact the telephone services and have them trace the call and if they can, we'll go there and search the area," he paused, then continued when she nodded, "But -you must understand -I can't promise anything."
She nodded again and wiped the tears off her cheek.
The front door was slammed and Raoul stormed in. "Mamá?" he confusingly looked at his tearing mother and then at Fenton, "What is going on?" he demanded.
Fenton explained that to him. -"And now you must take care of your mother and sister, we should get started. We'll let you know if we find something," He stood up and laid a hand on Mrs. Elina's shoulder. "We'll do our best," he promised. That was the only thing he could promise.
Fenton called José Moneo from the car as he doubted it big time that the telephone services employees would do anything unless being flashed with an offical bagde.
The telephone services quarters were not so far away from the police station so Moneo was already there when the Hardys came.
They found their way to the director's office on the third floor and after some explainations and requests, the Hardys, Moneo, his chief who's name was Serafin Civera, and the company's director went down to the second floor where people were working in separated booths, wearing headphones, speaking into the attached microphones in spanish (mostly), pushing buttons, scrolling up and down on their screens.
The director took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and sat down at one of the computers, taking the mission himself. First he typed in Elina's name and found their home number, then he pulled up a file with all calls to the number. "When was the call made?" the man asked with a strong spanish accent.
"About 10 o'clock, 9:45, maybe," Fenton replied.
"Nine fifty-three?"
"Possibly."
The director traced the call, the computer went through loads of numbers then finally stopped. "It's a teléfono público -a pay phone ," he said, he rolled his chair to another computer where he got a map of the city. "Aquí!" he said and pointed with the mouse on the screen.
"Sí, I know where it is," José said, already on his way downstairs.
"Gracias," Fenton said and hurried after Moneo.
The three Hardys went into Steven's car and followed the police car for about fourty minutes, they ended up in an apartment house neighbourhood, surely not the most attractive one. The police car parked at the side of the street by one of the blocks and Fenton behind.
"I guess I needn't ask how you're familiar with the neighbourhood," Fenton said dryly, once they'd exit the cars.
Moneo nodded knowingly.
There was trash all over the snug streets, the blocks hadn't been painted in ages, vulgar and ugly graffiti on some of them. Even some windows were broken, the pieces of glass were on the sidewalk, and there, on a street corner was a phonebooth.
The last one who had used it, hadn't hung up and the handset dangled loose in the cord. There was solidified blood on the glass inside. Chief Civera sighed and ordered his men to take fingerprints and an exsample of the blood.
The Hardys were snooping around, trying to eye some sort of a clue. Frank begun at the phonebooth, there was a drop of blood on the ground -and another -and another -leading away from the booth. Frank followed the trail to a basement window with a broken glass. Then he went to the block's front door and read on the doorbells.
"Dad!" he shouted, "I think I got something!"
His father looked up and ran to him and Joe was on his heels.
"What?" Joe asked excited.
"Look," his brother pointed at the doorbells, "Recognize something?"
Joe searched, then his eyes widened. "Josef Marco Vélez -Marco Vélez!"
Fenton called Moneo and told him about Frank's finding and then who Marco Vélez was. "I know we really don't have enough on him but maybe we could keep an eye on him?"
Moneo thought for a while. "I'll ask cabeza Civera."
"Please do."
Frank and Joe went back to the broken basement window, squatted and peeked inside. There was dust and junk, like fast food wrapping and mouldy old newspapers, the naked walls of concrete were moist. And then there was a chair. One chair under the window and slashed ropes. The brothers looked at each other.
"Well, he isn't here anymore," Joe said and took a closer look at the window, the glass had been painted with black painting, so nobody could have seen anything through it.
"Not in the basement, no -but maybe still in the building," Frank said.
"After nearly escaping? No."
-"Guess we'll find out if they get search warrant."
"But why? Why would Marco kidnap his director, who he seems to like better than Steven...?" Joe was fustrated.
"If he kidnapped him, he doesn't mean what he's been saying, Joe," Frank said.
"Oh, really?" Joe wryly, "Gee, Frank, I'm not five years old!"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Frank apologized.
"Yeah," Joe snorted, "Sure you are." He turned and started walking away.
"Joe?" Frank called after him, he didn't answer.
The older brother growled and ran after him and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Oh, come on Joe! Don't be childish," Frank immeadiately bit his tounge, "Joe, I didn't mean that, okay?"
"Now what?" their father shouted to them, sounding rather annoyed.
The brothers looked at each other. Then they turned back to the car.
"What was that about? What's with you today?" Fenton asked.
Joe just shook his head and got in the car.
"We're being stupid," Frank said simply.
"Ah...can you stop that?" his dad said just as simply, "Now, we're going to stirr up a bit in our friend, Marco -check his reactions -and Civera promised a nice little Shadow on him."
Frank nodded. "Sounds good."
"Yeah...and since it's the only thing we got in our hands we'll just have to wait."
"Well, let's get going," Frank got into the car.
After exchanging a few words with Moneo and Civera, the Hardys went back to the concert hall.
Steven came rushing towards them when they entered the building. "What happened?" he demanded.
"We kinda got a lead," Fenton said, "But it isn't very solid."
"Meaning?" the director inquired.
"Meaning it may be a coincidence," Frank replied.
"As much as we don't believe in them, this might be one," Joe added, his bad mood long gone. If there was action in the game, he would focus and try to make himself useful, while he despised sitting back and not knowing what to do.
Steven looked confused "Ah! Right," he shook his head, "I don't follow here..."
"Have you seen Marco?" Joe asked, heading inton the saloon.
"The last time I saw him, he was going backstage...why?"
"We need to talk to him," Frank said.
"Okay, I'll call him," Steven pulled a walkie-talkie off his belt.
"No, no, we'll go find him," Fenton said and followed his sons then he noticed Steven's blank face, "I'll bring you up to date as soon as I can, okay? I promise."
The three investigators went up a long hallway, leading from the haliway behind the stage to the dressingrooms and the green room.
They found Marco in the green room where he and his group of the crew along with Maggie where setting up a big screen in the green room, where the contestants would later sit and chew their finger nails while watching the point administering.
"Hey, what's going on, fellas!" Maggie asked when she saw them, "Where'd you go this morning?"
"Marco, can we talk to you?" Fenton asked solemnly, "Alone, please?"
Marco looked surprised but followed them to one of the dressing rooms. Joe closed the door behind him and leaned against is with his arms crossed over his chest and peered menachingly at the young Spanyard.
Marco glanced at him uncertain. "What's going on?"
"I believe we found where your ex-director has been imprisoned," Fenton said, still in that cold solemn tone.
"You found him?" Marco's eyes widened.
"No...someone found him before us," Frank said.
"Oh...um, why are you telling me this?" Marco asked, his dark eyes flickered from one Hardy to another.
"Because," Fenton looked into his eyes, "The place is suspiciously close to your apartment..."
Marco swallowed nervously. "Look...I did not kidnap senor Salvatore, why should I?"
"You tell us," Frank said.
"I didn't - do - it. I was here at the time, I couldn't have."
"Well, maybe you had a co-worker," Joe suggested and straightended himself with arms still crossed.
Marco looked at each of them, lost for words before he stormed out of the room.
Joe was about to go after him when his dad grabbed his shoulder. "Let him go," he said, "Let's see where he goes."
Then they spent about an hour helping the crew getting the green room ready, 'cause as Fenton had suspected, Marco didn't return to his work.
Just as they were finishing Maggie, who had left when the Hardys were talking to Marco, came in and asked: "Does anyone know where Marco is? His convertible is gone and he won't answer his cell phone..."
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