THE NETWORK MYSTERY
By Cassidy Montague
Chapter Five – "How Come Things Are Never Easy?"
"I swear, if that was the neighbor's cat again, I'm going to drop kick it into the next country," Joe muttered as he and his father ran out of the den and down the hallway ot the front room. Their neighbor had an old cat, a rangy tom the size of a pit bull and just as ferocious who liked to yowl, holler and carry on at all hours of the night. Joe threatened several times to cause the cat, named Stimpy, severe bodily harm but never carried through on it.
"Didn't sound like the cat," Fenton said gravely as they both lurched to a stop in the living room and raised their hands slowly.
Two tall men in business suits stood near the front door, guns in hands, glaring menacingly at the occupants of the room. Laura stood by the doorway closest to the kitchen, a hand over her mouth as she stared at the gunmen. Her gaze flew to where Joe and his father stood watching the two gunmen.
"What's going on here?" Fenton Hardy demanded in his most no-nonsense voice, a voice Joe remembered from early childhood as his father's 'obey the cop' voice. The older Hardy took a step forward, drawing the attention of both gunmen and he wisely kept his hands in the air.
"Never mind that," one of the gunmen said. Accented, probably Russian or something like that, he motioned at both Fenton and Joe. "Stay where you are. I want you both to sit down on the floor, on top of your hands. If you do not obey, I will shoot the woman."
The gunman trained his gun steadily on Joe's mother and Laura flinched back slightly, her blue eyes large with shock and fear. Joe saw a small trickle of blood coming from her mouth and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to look at the gunmen. One of them had already hurt his mom! Someone was going to pay big time for that!
Both Fenton and Joe slid to the ground, however and sat down on top of their hands, still glaring. A third man, one that Joe hadn't seen until now, came into his line of sight, carrying two large, plastic, garbage bags. He took them and placed one each over Fenton and Joe, taking a moment to tear a single hole in each one before Joe heard the strips being torn off a role of duct tape.
Oh good, Joe thought with a grimace. I'm being done up like a Christmas turkey.
Inside the back it was hot and suffocating and Joe would have struggled, hard, if he hadn't been worried for his mother. And Frank? What's going on with Frank? Have they hurt him already? Damnit, get me out of this thing!
The ends of the bags were slid under Joe's hands and brought up around the back and he was very tightly secured inside of the bag. He had to keep his head still so he could use the small hole that had been provided as ventilation in the bag.
Things went quiet until Laura screamed again, protesting. Joe heard more duct tape being torn off a roll and he swallowed nervously, starting to struggle now with his bag to break free.
"Do not move," the gunman who had spoken earlier said and Joe felt something hard pressed against his head. "Or I shall shoot you."
Things went quiet again until, a few minutes later, Joe heard the front door slam shut. Joe started struggling earnestly; pulling his hands up as best he could from underneath his legs while trying to tear at the plastic bag surrounding him. It was hard to gain any purchase on the stuff; he wished he could get to his pocketknife in his pocket. Joe heard grunting and squiggling near him, coming from his father as Fenton sought to gain purchase on the slippery plastic that surrounded him. Joe put more effort into his struggle with the duct tape and garbage bag, finally gaining a hold on his pocketknife.
It took no time at all after that to cut loose from the plastic and tape. Joe cut the bag into shreds, shuddering as he got loose and he pushed his hair out of his eyes to look toward his mother. She looked white-faced where she sat taped to one of the dining room chairs, a piece of tape over her mouth. Joe looked at the sofa where his brother had been lying earlier and he went dry-mouthed.
"Dad?" he said. "Where's Frank?"
Fenton, now loose from his own bag, was kneeling beside Laura and using the pocketknife to cut his wife loose. Joe frowned as he went through the dining room and kitchen and back into the living room again, a concerned expression on his face.
"They t-took him," Laura stammered when her mouth was free of the tape. "They were t-taking him when I screamed the first time. Why did they take him?"
Joe sped outside but saw no sign of the kidnappers, his brother or even a car that didn't belong out on the street. Their van and his parents cars were all parked in their spaces in the driveway and he recognized all of the other cars on the block as belonging to their neighbors.
"There's just nothing," Joe said softly as he came back into the room. His father held a phone in his hands and was talking rapidly to someone on the other end of the line. Joe blinked blankly at him before he realized his father was talking to the police about the attack and Frank's kidnapping.
"Are you all right, Mom?" Joe asked his mother in a soft voice. He sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, holding her gently as she wiped tears that fell down her cheeks. Blue eyes looked forlorn and hopeless as she leaned on Joe's shoulder and sought for comfort.
"I don't understand why they kidnapped him," Laura whispered softly as she shuddered. "He's sick…"
"It… he saw something at the sale today that I don't think anyone wanted him to see," Joe said softly. "It might have something to do with that. But don't worry, we're going to find him, I promise."
Laura nodded shakily and wiped her tears. She stood determined to put on a brave face and Joe smiled gently at her as he stood as well.
"What do we do first Dad?" Joe saw his father was off the phone and staring at the receiver, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Just tell me."
"For now we're going to wait to talk to the police," Fenton said. "And then we'll head out to that meeting. I want to fill Riley in on everything we've learned so far, including Frank seeing Gray."
Joe nodded. "I'll get the note. We can show that to him as well."
Fenton continued to stare at the receiver but finally sat it back down on its base and settled back on the couch again. He carefully folded the blanket that had been laid over Frank earlier and sat it on top of the pillow on the other end. The sofa was still slightly warm from Frank laying here all morning and Fenton rubbed at his eyes, trying to put some thought into what he would have to do.
"Did you both get a good look at the men who were here?" Fenton looked up at met Joe's eyes, then Laura's. Joe nodded.
"Totally," he agreed. "I've got their faces burned into my memory. No problem remembering them, I can promise you that."
"Good," Fenton said. "I remember them very clearly as well."
"They were wearing suits," Laura frowned as she looked at her husband. Joe saw that same determined expression on her face from earlier. "Nice ones. They… they reminded me of the F.B.I. agents you have worked with, Fenton. Federal agents. But why would Federal agents do what they did? Why would they take Frank?"
Fenton shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know. This wasn't normal procedure for any Fed I know, even in these days of the Patriot Act. Tying us up, taking Frank away without so much as a by your leave… it's all crazy. Of course, I've heard they've done worse with that."
"Gotta fight terrorism Dad," Joe said softly. "Whether it's right or wrong, they're doing what they THINK is right. And anyway, I don't think these were Feds at all. More like spooks – and they'll do anything they want."
Fenton nodded in agreement. "Right."
Laura got up and went into the kitchen as Joe reached out to grab the blanket that Fenton so carefully folded moments before. Joe held onto it a moment, remembering just how ill his brother had been and how much he wanted to rib someone's head off for causing Frank more harm.
The doorbell rang a few moments later and Fenton checked carefully before he opened the door and let Detective Con Riley into the house. The police detective was joined by two other people, a man and a woman who were introduced as forensics personnel – David Toddbury and Elizabeth Mathiesin.
"Let's go into the dining room and let them work," Con suggested softly as he motioned toward the nearby dining room with one hand. Joe knew that their friend had been to the house enough times in the past to know it well; it was the first time he'd really seen Con take control like this though. Joe went along, more numb now than anything. He stared at the couch again as they passed, like Frank would materialize suddenly on it again, safe and sound.
"I'm sorry," Con started off by saying as he settled into one of the seats. Joe's parents sat side-by-side but Joe went around to sit at the end. He needed distance or he was going to start hurting people. Frank was gone! "Okay, let's do this one-by-one. Who was on the scene first when things started?"
Laura leaned forward slightly, still pale, her normally coiffed hair in slight disarray and an ugly looking bruise beside her mouth. Joe vowed silently to make someone pay for the injury done to his mother.
"I was in the kitchen," Laura said. "Working on supper. F-Frank was on the couch. He came home early from the rummage sale earlier because he wasn't feeling well. He wanted to stay down where he could see the television but he didn't watch it very much, he slept a lot. I heard the door bang open and came out to see what was going on; I thought maybe he got up and went outside for something. There were three men h-here. One of them was grabbing Frank and I yelled something. Then Fenton and Joe showed up and they… they threatened to hurt me."
"They put those garbage bags over our heads," Joe muttered. "Like we were no more than trash to them. I'm surprised they left air holes in the bag, would have been an easy way to kill us off, I bet."
Laura paled even more and Joe clamped his teeth together, regretting his harsh words.
"I'm sorry Mom," Joe apologized and turned his attention back to Con. "I didn't mean to scare you more. They duct taped us in the bags; I could hear him tearing off strips from a roll. Then…"
"He made me sit in the chair, I tried to stop them from taking Frank. He was struggling but he really didn't feel well. They duct taped me to the chair and I couldn't move… I tried but I couldn't move!"
Laura wiped the tears that were falling as Fenton explained the rest of it – getting loose from the bags, about the obituary for Arthur Gray as well as Frank seeing the man that morning. Joe handed the detective the note he had gotten earlier that day.
"You think these might be related?" Con looked up from the Fenton to study the private detective's face. "That Frank seeing Gray has caused someone to want to kidnap him?"
"I can't think of any other reason at the moment," Fenton said. "At least not that would specifically target Frank instead of one of the rest of us. None of us are on a case at the moment; I'm on vacation actually and Joe and Frank – you weren't on a case, were you, Joe?"
Joe shook his head. "Nope, not for three weeks now. Too busy with school stuff."
Fenton nodded. "My gut says it's this business with Gray. I've never really trusted him or any of his… associates."
"You realize if it's one of the spook squads we may never find Frank, Fenton," Con said sympathetically. "I don't mean to scare you Laura but that's the truth with those underground agencies. They have ways and means mere mortals can't comprehend – or match."
"That's okay," Joe chimed in, a hostile expression on his face. "I'll find Arthur Gray myself and pound it out of him if I have to. We are going to find Frank."
Fenton nodded at Joe grimly but in agreement as well.
"So what about this meeting?" Con waved the paper. "Are you planning on going through with it?"
"Oh yeah," Joe said. "Now more than ever."
Fenton smiled at his son. "Together. Got it?"
"Got it," Joe leaned back in his seat. "I got it. And so will Gray."