Eeek! I'm so excited, Eurovision is in four days and I can't wait! Pray with me that Selma, the icelandic competitor, will make it to the finals (she's already competed before, in 1999, and she became second, that was amazing)! Ok, now I bragging, I'll stop, but before, since I'm already starting to advertise here: Eurovision 2005 will be broadcasted live on next thursday and saturday on www . eurovision . tv
Well, on with the story!
(nancy drew, I'm afraid Nancy will not be here...I don't like her that much and other people have asked me to take her out before so...
bwca, the squiggle doesn't work in my computer with other letters, don't know why)
Chapter 7
Monday morning.
The first planes carrying the Eurovision Song Contest's competitors were landing.
Over the weekend thousands and thousands of eurovsion fans had arrived in Madrid from all over the world. The madness was starting to show in the afternoon traffic.
The way from the hotel to the concert hall took maybe thirty minutes early in the morning but it took about an hour to get back to the hotel at 5 p.m.
The schedule was the same for all contestants (only with different times): Rehearsal, press conference, break, reahearsal, break (party), straight-to-bed (whether that meant 10 p.m. or 3 a.m.).
The police had had shadows on Marco and Esperanza for a few days now. Nothing suspicous.
Miguel Quierra had reported to the Hardys on Sunday evening.
"It's not them. Neither of them, " he had said, sounding tired.
"What happened?" Fenton had asked.
-"Nothing! That's just it. Vélez, he goes to work everyday, eats there, hangs out with West's daughter in break times, goes home...nothing. Senora Elina, she goes to work, she works at an estate agency, she picks her kid up from summer school or something and -Dios- they go to church and confess!"
Fenton had smiled at his annoyance. "Couldn't you talk to the priest and ask him what she was confessing? Because this may be a murder case."
"What do you think? Of course, you should have seen how he looked at me!" the corporal spat out.
So, again, they were at a dead end.
Monday morning. Nothing to do so the Hardys went with Steven to meet the contestants at the press tent.
The press tent was a giant, white tent that had been put on the concert hall's lawn, where the press conferences would take place. The lawn was crowded with journalists and other mass media. Armed security guards around the tent and and the concert hall were actually earning their money. A few of them became Belson's body guards when he stepped out of the car and the worked-up media showered him with questions and the flashes of the cameras stung the eyes. He held his head up high and gave 'no comments' on both sides all the way to the tent.
Inside it, were about 300 people gathered, the competitors, song writers, managers, personal crews -other "accesory-people"- a few journalists, tour guides and numerous strong and fit looking men, that would become the competitors personal bodyguards. They all stood up and aplaudded when Steven entered the tent. There was a long table in front of the chair rows, which the people were sitting on, Steven sat in the middle and Bill on his right and another man who was a translator on his left. There were microphones on racks in front of them.
The Hardys stood in the tent's entrance and watched the crowd go silent and sit down as Steven cleared his throat and began speaking.
"First of all, I'd like to welcome you all to Spain," the translator translated in french as he went along, "I am Steven Belson and I will be your director this week...as you all know, the orignial direcor Mr. Salvatore Elina is missing at the moment and cannot attend to his work..." people nodded understandingly.
"But I hope we will be able to work together and make this a memorable eurovision song contest," he continued, "After a while you will be able to go to your hotels and settle down in your rooms and you will be accompanied by those fine gentlemen until the end of your staying...whether it'll be Friday or Sunday...then we will begin rehearsing, here in the concert hall, one by one group, where we will discuss your performances and you'll get a look at the stage and take one rehearsal, then there will be a press conference here, also one by one group. Then you'll have the rest of the day to yourselves and we'll begin flat out tomorrow morning, then we'll also begin with a rehearsal, then a press conference, another rehearsal and free-time, rehearsals will be in the exact order of the competiton's running order...further information you will find in this time-schedule that will be handed out now."
Maggie and a few other girls walked around and handed out booklets.
"If there is anything you need," Steven said, "You can get back to me. My cell phone number is on the schedule, or you can talk to Mr. William West, my nr. 1 assistant -who sits here on my right- or Mr. Martin Garcia who's on my left and is repeatng everything I say-, " the translator, Garcia, pointed at himself and said something in french and everyone laughed.
And to the Hardys surprise Steven added and pointed towards them, "Or you can even turn to Mr. Fenton Hardy and his sons."
All eyes turned towards them and the boys tried very hard to keep their face normal. Fenton, however, wasn't prepared for this and wasn't very happy since he didn't want any attention from the media.
"That was all for now," Steven looked over the multitude, "Any questions?"
Fenton sighed, knowing what was coming.
The journalists started shouting all at the same time.
"Please! One at a time," Steven begged, he pointed at one of them, "You."
"Mr. Belson, if Mr. Elina shall return within the next two days can he go back to directing?"
Steven shook his head. "No, probably not -but there's a chance we might co-direct as I'm using the lot of his work to guide me through my own."
"What are the chances he'll be found in time?" someone else asked.
"Let's just be faithful here and hope he will be."
"The police has ruled out the idea that Mr. Salvatore Elina was kidnapped by the Lebanese extreme supporting group that protested the participation of Israel in eurovision -um, are there any theories to who did kinap him," the third asked.
The Hardys mentally crossed their fingers and hoped Steven would just shut his mouth.
"We have people working on the case and you may be informed later how things evolve," Steven stood up and gathered his memo notes, closing the conference by doing so. Mr. Garcia translated the last sentence and stood up as well and so did Bill.
The body guards took their places on their sides and followed them to the concert hall.
The media left the tent and the competitors and their escort, including the body guards and guides, went to find their hotels.
Fenton took a deep breath before exiting the tent. He had taken cases in Europe, he was pretty well-known. He hated it.
As soon as he came out they were all over him and Frank and Joe too, they had also created a name for themselves in the continent.
The private detective was boiling inside, seriously fondling the idea of drawing his SW990L pistol and tell them all just to fuck off.
Frank seemed to read his father's face and wondered why everybody thought he and Joe were so unlike. They looked very much alike right now. Frank was a little amused.
They managed to squeeze their way into the concert hall without answering any questions. Fenton rushed into the saloon where Steven, Bill and Martin Garcia were checking over the stage for the final time.
"Was that necessary?" Fenton asked straight out.
Steven looked at him. "What?"
"To put the media on us."
Steven shrugged. "Most of them already recognized you, does it matter?"
"I whish you hadn't said that in front of the journalists," Fenton muttered.
"Well, done is done," Steven said, "But I'm sorry," he added.
"Don't worry about it, we'll handle it," Frank lightly brushed him off.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, it's just that this case is starting to bother me a lot," Fenton excused himself.
"I understand," Steven said.
"I'm gonna go and get smething to eat," Joe said, "That might clear my head."
"I'm coming with you," Fenton said, "Let's use the back door backstage, just in case..."
"Yup. Good idea, dad."
So the three Hardys sneaked out the backdoor and went to a small kiosk across the street where Marco usually parked his car in front of. They had themselves some snack.
"They'll keep someone watching Marco and Mrs. Elina, right?" Joe said while chewing his pizzaslice, it came nowhere close to Mr. Pizza's pizzas that an italian family, the Pritos, owned home in Bayport. The Pritos were good friends of the Hardys.
"I guess so," Fenton said. His cell phone rang in his pocket. He had his ear-piece on so he only had to push the answering button in the pocket.
"Hardy."
"Hola! It's Moneo," José's deep voice came through.
Fenton sighed. "Why do I feel like I haven't talked anyone else but you in ages?"
"Beats me, anyway, I finally got a hold of the basement's owner -he's been out of town- looks like senor Vélez has got nothing to do with this, the basement was rented by someone."
"Who?" Fenton asked, now all ears, and looked for something to write on.
"Someone named...um...Charles Bradstow."
"That doesn't sound very spanish. Have you located this man?"
"We're working on it."
"Will you let me know?"
"Sí. Can you come to the station sometime today?"
"Yeah, thanks," Fenton hung up, "Charles Bradstow, Charles Bradstow," he memorized.
"Who's that?" Joe asked.
"The man who's, at the moment, the most likely to have kidnapped Elina."
"They found him?"
"Not yet."
"Are we leaving?"
"In a while."
They went back to the concert hall, using the back door again.
The contestants and escort arrived back while the Hardys were gone and a few hundreds of people had gathered in the saloon, including some mass media, mostly from the national presses.
Steven stood in front of the crowd, with an earpiece-microphone on his head and a bunch of papers in his hands. "All right, people. Let's get started, " he said and searched the papers, "Bosnia & Herzegovina, you're up first, everybody else have a seat, please."
Everyone found a seat except four women in their early twenties, who took the stage. They were still in their travelling outfit but lined up in the middle of the stage and waited for Steven's signal.
"Whenever you're ready, Bill," Steven said into the microphone.
The up-tempo song began playing, mixed with east-european influences, a lot of fiddles and flutes but still a strong bass sound underneath and heavy drumbeat. The women sang it well but seemed uncertained about the movements since they'd never been on this stage before.
Everyone applauded when they finished.
"That was great!" Steven complimented, "Now you should go to the press tent, your conference will begin in a few minutes, we'll talk tomorrow morning." He looked at the papers again. "Up next is...Estonia!"
Three people came to the stage as the Bosnian jumped off it. The estonian lead singer was a girl who couldn't be much older than Joe.
"How old is that girl?" Joe asked as he watched her from the saloon's entrance.
"Dieciséis -she's sixteen," a voice came behind him.
"Hi, Catrina, " Joe greeted the receptionist, "Sixteen you say, wow, she must be really brave."
"Yeah, I can face the barrel of a gun and a bomb set on five minutes to explode -but this -I'd have a heart attack," Frank said admiringly.
Catrina nodded. "Sixteen is the lowest age for competitors."
Joe snorted. "I'm not surprised. How could a younger person ever handle the pressure?"
"Oh, it's not impossible," Catrina said, "There have been younger comptitors. People would often put children on stage maybe as backing vocals, back then the contest was judged by a jury, it would just melt them to see the children, they've even been lead singers, but in 1986 there was a 13 year old lead singer from Belgium and she won the contest. People thought that was just too much and the minimum age was raised to 16."
"A thirteen year old kid?" Fenton said wide-eyed, "That is nuts!"
Catrina laughed, then shrugged. "Well, she did win...and there actually is a contest for children, the junior euroviosin. Children from 7-15 compete in it, but of course it's nowhere near as big as the adult one."
Fenton shook his head. "Crazy europeans..."
The estonian song was a beautiful pop ballad, and the girl had a wonderful voice. The brothers got goose bumbs when she hit the high notes in the end.
When she and her backing vocals had left along with their crew, Steven called Russia to the stage.
Frank gasped, then he stared open-mouthed in awe at the russian contestant. Joe noticed and waved a hand in front of him. "Erm..Frank? Are you okay?"
"Joe, I've just seen the woman I'm going to marry," Frank said, still staring.
Joe looked at her. Sure, she looked good in the distance. Long, long dark hair, seemingly perfect body and smooth movements. The voice was an ok. The song was just a very cheap pop-song but the performance's target market was obviously males, the singer and four female backing vocals and dancers did their best to look and move very sexy.
"Maybe she doesn't look this good in a close-up, " Joe said.
"Is this called music?" Fenton asked disbelieving.
"Some people don't have faith in the musical industry anymore," Catrina said and shook her head disapprovingly, "They will try to appeal to the audience with their sex appeal."
"It seems to be working on some..." Joe grinned at his brother's fossilised expression who didn' t even hear the comment.
Fenton shook his head as the song was finnishing. He grabbed Frank's shoulder. "Come on, lover boy, Steven is busy, let's go see José."
As they left, a Dutch boyband with members of four, was getting ready for their performance.
They met chief Civera at the station who told them Moneo was still interrogating but after a few minutes he and a middle-aged, bearded man came out of the iterrogation room. The man appeared to be very nervous.
"Well?" Joe asked impatiently.
"Gentlemen, this is senor Alvaro Algueró, owner of that basement where we believe senor Salvatore Elina has been held captive...now senor Algueró doesn't speak english but let me tell you what I've found out," Moneo said, "As I've already told you the man who rented the basement is Charles Bradstow, we've figured he is not a native."
"What does he look like?" Fenton asked.
"Senor Algueró never met him, if they communicated, they did through phone..." sergant Moneo said.
"How did he pay the rent?" Joe asked.
"Cash."
"How?" Joe repeated but meant something else.
José turned to the man and asked him in spanish. "He leaves an envelope with the money in the mailbox," he then translated the answer.
"What does his voice sound like?" Frank questioned.
José asked again and translated in english: "Deep, he says, with some foreign accent but he doesn't know where from."
"That leaves us with a deep-voiced male, probably a foreigner," Frank compiled.
"That's..." Joe pretended to count in his mind, "How many billions of suspects?" he then asked cynically.
Fenton asked whether Algueró had Bradstow's phone number but received a negative reply, Bradstow always called from a pay phone.
"He's either american or british," José thought aloud.
"Yeah, but they're everywhere in the world," Frank sighed defeatingly.
"He hasn't contacted since Thursday, has he?" Joe asked, expecting the 'No' which he got.
Algueró didn't know much about Charles Bradstow, he needed the money, he was too poor to ask questions.
"But he must have been there, just to put Elina there, feed him, if he did, or whatever, so someone must have seen him," Fenton was getting desperate.
"Noone we've talked to," Chief Civera said.
All of them gave out a deep sigh from the bottom of their stomach.
Frank said what they were all thinking. "This is going nowhere."
Keep in mind that I can only imagine how eurovision is prepared (and read contestants blog sites...) but since I wrote this chapter, I've learned (or got it confirmed) that contestants get to stay in the host country for a whole week, 7 days, in the story they only get 4-6 days (from monday to thursday or saturday). But it's a little late to correct it but now you know...
The little lore corner:
- Sandra Kim sang 'J'amie la vie' in 1986(Iceland competed for the first time that year) and won, she said she was 14 years old when she really was only 13...there have been younger competitors (no one won except for her).
- The junior Eurovision was first held in Denmark 2003, then in Norway 2004 and will be in Belgium in November 2005, the junior esc is always much later than THE ESC which takes part in May. The winner's nation will not become next year's host in jr. esc as in "senior" esc(I have not seen any of the jr. esc as Iceland doesn't participate or broadcast the show).