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Frank shuddered. The men were driving him insane, and he'd only been captive a few hours. He wasn't sure what was going to happen when he and Joe reached their destination. Would they be separated? That was his worst fear.
He glanced over at Joe, who was sound asleep. Amazed that his brother could sleep at a time like this he shook his head, trying to stay awake. He wondered what time it was and how much time they had left before they reached their destination, and then again, before they would be sold.
He shuddered at the thought. What would posses someone into selling a human being? He wondered. He didn't know and he could only hope the men that were holding him captive wouldn't separate him from his brother.
Suddenly, the semi stopped short, and Frank guessed they'd reached their destination. HE was right. The semi's door opened and two men, holding guns, approached them.
Joe awoke, blinking his eyes rapidly. "What's going on?" he asked groggily.
"I think we're at our destination," Frank said, eying the men with guns. The first man walked into the semi and ordered Frank to get up. Frank did so, not wanting to cause trouble with the guards. They shoved him to the side of the semi and handcuffed him, at the same time doing it to Joe.
Joe took a few minutes to focus, regaining full consciousness as the man shoved him out of the semi.
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Two Days missing
Fenton sighed as he reviewed the papers for what seemed like the thirty second time. He couldn't believe how quickly this case was going down the hole. He needed to find his sons – fast.
Suddenly his cell phone rang and he quickly grabbed it. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello, Fenton," growled the man. "Your time's up."
"I have an hour left," Fenton protested, sure he was reading his watch right.
"Hour's aren't important. What's important is I have an offer for one of your sons, $200,000. Isn't that a nice sum?" He laughed. "Oh, and you won't get to know which one it is, either."
"You bestirred," Fenton growled
"Oh, Fenton, Fenton, Fenton," the man chuckled. "I feel so sorry for you. Famous detective – solved many cases. Can't even find his own sons."
He hung up the phone. Fenton stared at the telephone in disbelief. What little time he had had just run out.
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One day earlier
Frank frowned as the man entered his cell. The block was about sixty feet wide and seventy feet long, with not much room to move. He had been separated from Joe over an hour ago. He frowned as the thought entered his mind, picturing the scene with distaste:
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The man entered the room angrily, holding a gun in his hand. "Come with me," he had ordered Joe, grabbing him by the arm. Joe had started to resist when the man smacked him on the back of the head with his gun. Joe had wobbled and started walking.
The man had practically dragged Joe out of the room with his eyes blazing mad, steaming in terror. "Come on, hurry up!" he shouted when Joe once again resisted.
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The image faded out of his mind and Frank sighed. He knew that could be the very last time he would ever see his brother.
Suddenly three men entered his cell: One who he guessed was in charge, and the other two who he presumed to be buyers.
The man in charge smiled as if this was normal for him and then started to talk. "He's excellent at math, reading, writing, grammar, and computer hacking. He's also good at brute labor, and of course, another one of his attributes is that he's Fenton Hardy's son," he snickered.
The first man did not seem interested in the man's laughter. "What's the starting bid?" he asked, looking at Frank directly. Frank shivered at his cold glare.
"Fifteen grand," replied the second man.
The man smiled as he thought about something and pulled out what appeared to be a checkbook. "Winning bid?"
"None yet," the man replied.
"I bid 150,000," said the man from the corner.
Frank shivered. He knew at that second that he'd probably never see any of his family again.
"How much are you asking?" asked the first man that had entered the cell. Joe looked up.
"I don't know," the man said. "Right now, his only attribute is that he's Fenton's son. He's pretty sick," he added scornfully.
"Sick people can always get better," replied the man.
"I don't know how much I'd bid on that piece of trash," said the third man, leaving the room. "You shouldn't sell sick people. It's not good for the business."
The two men Joe had marked as "buyers" left and the one who Joe guessed was the seller remained.
"You worthless piece of nothing!" the man roared, kicking Joe in the side. "I can't believe this! You got sick! You should never be sick! I can't believe this! You're causing us a whole lot of money and trouble!"
Joe winced as the man kicked him again. The man then left him alone, clanging the door to his cell shut.
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Two days 3 hours missing
Laura sighed. She'd called all of Joe's friends and they had all promised to help however they could, but Fenton didn't want them on the case.
Then again that was understandable, seeing how they - the group Fenton was after – was after teenagers.
Fenton came upstairs, mad. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"One of them was sold, but I don't know which one," Fenton said. "I honestly have no idea."
"Oh," Laura said. She looked like she was ready to break down into tears, which wasn't surprising, considering she'd been crying all day yesterday and the day beforehand.
She then burst into sobs, starting both Fenton and herself. "Will we ever find them, Fenton?" she sobbed. "Will they ever come home?"
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Joe lay down on the floor. He felt miserable, sick, and agitated. He couldn't believe he had gotten sick at a time like this… what a great time to get sick.
He swallowed hard. What he wouldn't give to see Frank and for something to eat right now – that was if his stomach could hold anything down.
"Come on, Dad," he thought. "Find me. Please, I'll give anything. Just find me."