OK sorry for not updating this morning but I had to clean out my bathrooms… Also, I had a suffocating migraine… and THOSE are never fun…
Oh, and sorry for taking out all my anger on Frank, but he's just so fun to hurt… and it gets people mad enough to review! SO REVIEW, and I won't hurt him – much – in the next chapter. Anyway, enjoy, review, and I'll start writing the next chapter.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frank swallowed his vile and disgust back down. He was being forced to work for an international terrorist!
The man chuckled at the look on Frank's face. It was a look of bewilderment and confusion. "I bet you don't even know where we are, do you?"
Frank shook his head. He didn't trust his mouth. "We're in Iraq," he said.
"IRAQ?" Frank asked, his mouth hanging open. "But last night we were in a forest of trees… sir."
He chuckled. "You'd be surprised. International Airlines people are stupid, not to mention dumb. I was able to move you from Asia to Iraq in less then 24 hours."
Frank shook his head. He couldn't believe it. The room looked almost exactly the same as before. Looking around, he noticed it had a bed, a restroom and a desk. Should've noticed, he thought to himself.
The man slammed his hand on the desk. "Finish the reports!"
Frank jumped. "Yes sir," he mumbled.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fenton raced to the hospital. When he got there, he asked for Joe Hardy. "Joseph?" he asked the receptionist at the front desk.
"One minute please," the nurse said. She turned to the reports and handed him a file. "Room 1295. Detective Tom brought him in."
Fenton shook his head and walked up to the room, Laura in his arm. "Hi, Tom," he said, greeting his friend. "How's Joe?"
"He'll live," shrugged Tom. "Physically, just the flu. They were pretty mean to him. Emotionally, though… I don't know. He was definitely with Frank, but they were separated. Before he dozed off, he told me Frank was injured slightly, but that's about all he said."
"Thanks, Tom." Fenton sighed. "Any news on the other detectives?"
The man shook his head. "Nope. No such luck. Detective Martin Dalasi is looking into that."
"You say it like he's looking into a beach party," mumbled Joe, blinking his eyes to avoid the sunlight.
"Joe! You're awake," Fenton said, breathing a sigh of relief.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frank shuddered as the man left the room. An unstable man was clearly holding him – he'd just seen that in the last two seconds…He shuddered and shifted nervously in his seat before turning back into the computer.
He yawned and started working on the reports. He'd typed 12 of them before one of the man's workers or servants – Frank wasn't sure which – came back into the room. "Are you finished?" he asked.
Frank shook his head. "No sir, I'm sorry sir, I –"
The man glared and looked at the reports, his voice rising on each word. "How many do you have left?"
"Three sir," Frank whispered.
The man exhaled noisily. "No dinner tonight."
"But you said I had more time!" Frank started to protest. He stopped short when he saw the look on the man's face.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" the man roared. He turned on his heel and left the room.
Frank shuddered and hurriedly started typing up the reports and finished the last three before the man came back in and allowed himself a minute to relax.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe grimaced. "Yeah. Barely. Did you find Frank yet?"
"No, not yet," Fenton responded with a sigh. "We're trying."
"Good," Joe said.
"We're going to find him, Joe. Don't worry."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TEN DAYS MISSING
Frank shook his head trying to clear his mind's cobwebs. These people were not only crazy - they were smart. They were starting an international database for illegal immigrants, bribery databases and thousands of others.
And he was stuck typing out EVERYTHING. The computer had a password for the internet and every time he tried and failed, it set off a silent alarm alerting Jeffery. HE shuddered as he remembered the first time he'd tried it:
--- Fades into flashback ---
Frank shook his head as he looked around. He was done typing up the reports, and no one was around. He glanced at the internet and pulled it up. It read:
PASSWORD NEEDED TO ACCESS DATABASE
Frank shook his head as he licked his lips trying to guess what it could be? He thought of one: MONEY.
He tried it. It wouldn't work.
Dang it, he thought. What could it possibly be? Suddenly, the man strode hands over heels steaming mad into the room. He shoved him down off the chair. "FRANKLIN HARDY!" he yelled.
Frank winced as the man beat him with his fists. "You do not attempt to access that. It has a password because it's off-limits. DON'T mess around with the computer."
"Yes sir," Frank lisped terrified.
The man glared at him, his harsh black eyes meeting with Frank's brown terrified ones. "Get back to work." He stormed back out of the room.
---- End flashback ----
Frank shuddered at the memory. The man was crazy and mentally insane. He couldn't – he wouldn't – take this any more!
He would get out of there. Looking around he saw one unmarked exit in the room…
The heating vent.