It was now about one in the morning, and Fenton was wiped. They had followed Kolplay back to his hotel and waited an hour before Jess suggested that they call it a night. Fenton was reluctant at first, but now as he sat in his car, all he wanted to do was kiss his wife, see his sons and go to bed. However, before he could start the car his cell phone rang. With a deep sigh, Fenton answered.

"Hey Dad. I know your working and I'm sorry to interrupt," Joe's voice was strained. Fenton instantly felt his stomach tighten. 'Maybe he's just tired,' he hopped.

"It's alright Joe; I was just getting ready to come home. What's up?"

There was an eerie pause as Joe tried to find the right words. Fenton's heart was racing, he wanted to yell at Joe and tell him to get on with it, but something told him he didn't want to know what was wrong.

"We got a call earlier. It was some guy…" Fenton heard Joe take a deep breath, "he was asking for you. He said to tell you to 'back off, or we'll knock him off.' Dad, we can't get a hold of Frank."

That was it, Fenton's heart stopped. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. He couldn't think straight. Images of his son being hurt or worse were going through his head. It took him several seconds, but he finally managed to ask, "Joe are you sure someone has Frank, what exactly did the caller say?"

Jo repeated the whole conversation for Fenton. "I think you may be right," a pause, "Damn, have you called the police?"

"No not yet. Do you think that Frank will be ok if we do?"

"I don't know. We don't even know if he's been kidnapped. But you should call Ezra anyway. Let him know what's going on."

"Well do….Hey dad; do you think this has to do with the case your working on? I mean…do you think the Kolplays have him?"

"God I hope not. Call Ezra, I'll be home in twenty minuets," Fenton hung up. He tried not to think about the Kolplay's last kidnap victim.

Their last victim was a former cult member named Steven Marks. He was twenty-three and an undercover informant for the FBI. That was until the cult found out. Fenton had seen the result of what they did to him. If the Kolplays really did have Frank like his gut told him, he prayed they got to him before they had the chance to touch him.

In the storeroom, fear, pain and the cold had taken its toll on Frank, and he passed out on the floor. That was how the baritone man found him when he came back five hours latter.

Frank was awoken by a harsh kick to his stomach. He was momentarily blinded by the newly lit store room, but could make out a figure standing above him. The figure crouched down and griped a handful of Frank's hair and roughly pulled his face up so his eyes met Frank's.

"Now, I'm going to untie your ankles and take out this gag. If you try to run or don't do what I say," the baritone man reached behind him and pulled a gun out of his waist band, "I'll shoot you. Understand?"

Frank did his best to nod, which satisfied the baritone, and he released his head. A few moments latter Frank was sitting up trying to get the taste of cotton out of his mouth. "Think you can walk?" the baritone man asked, Frank only nodded, and was then pulled to his feet.

Frank was led down a brightly lit, narrow, concrete hall, to a staircase. He stumbled a few times as they ascended, but made it up the endless flight of stairs to a landing where he was pushed into the brick wall directly in front of him. "Don't move," said the man as he released Frank. Frank heard him pull a key ring out of his pocket and the keys jingle as it unlocked a door. The man then led him through the door and out into the early morning sunlight.

The sunlight reviled some kind of camp, a cross between a child summer camp and a Nazi prison camp. On one side there were about twenty wooden cabins that looked like they had been turned into apartments for families. A community eating area was in the center of the compound with families already sitting together to eat. From what Frank could tell there were about nine different families and seventeen cupolas/ signals all sitting there. Behind the cabins were a series of gardens and fields. It looked like a settler's paradise. Lush, green, happy and inviting.

On the other side, however, it was bleak, and military. There were storage sheds, and metal, bunkers. Shooting ranges and fields that looked like they had been used for bomb testing surrounded the bunkers. A barb wire fence separated this part from the 'friendly' camp.

'Hitler meets Camp Sunshine,' Frank thought as he was led to one of the bunkers. Inside, there was a desk and a few chairs, a table, a sink, a few cabinets, a frig and a few florescent lights lit the room.

"Sit there," the man pointed to a chair by the far wall. Frank did as he was told and rested his head agents the wall. It was pounding again, in fact his whole body hurt.

"Can I have some water, please?" Frank choked out. The man opened one the frig and pulled out a bottle of water. He held it for Frank while he drank. After a few moments he pulled it away and Frank leaned his head back again. 'That's a little better,' Frank thought, 'At least I won't die from dehydration.'

A few moments latter two more man wearing ski masks came in.

Chief Ezra Collig had been at home, watching TV when Joe called.

"Chief?"

"What do you want Joe?" the Chief barked, it had been a long day and he was feeling the strain. So far he had received reports that the Williams brothers were in Bayport, that the Kolplay cult was also in Bayport and there were rumors of a dirty cop with in his division. He was not happy, and had been trying to forget about the day by watching Who's Line, and didn't was irritated by the interference. However, his irritation quickly turned to worry when Joe made no smart comeback.

"Joe? What's wrong? Is your father ok?"

"Yeah, dad's fine. He's on his way home."

"Then do you mind my asking why you are calling at one in the morning?"

Collig heard the hesitation while Joe tried to think about what he was going to do, something he would have sworn that Joe never did. "Frank went out about eight to night. When he wasn't home at eleven we started calling around. No one has seen or heard from him, I couldn't get him on his cell, and I was just about to go looking for him when we got a phone call." Collig heard him take a deep breath, and clear his throat; it didn't help much though because his voice still cracked slightly when he spoke. "It was a distorted male voice, and they said that they wanted my dad to 'Back off or we'll knock him off.' When I asked what they who they were they told me they were the guys who had something very near and dear to out hearts. We think they have Frank."

Collig was silent. He had known the Hardys since they had moved to Bayport. He had been through several cases with Fenton and bitten his nails when the boys had taken off running in their father's footsteps. He had always warned Fenton about the dangers of the boys working as detectives, 'but this time they weren't on a case….'

"How long ago was the call?" he asked.

"About forty or so minuets."

"I'll be over there in about thirty. Give me a chance to get myself together."