Frank and Joe looked at each other. This had to be the work of the mole!
Harry Young, with his hands in his jacket pockets, clearly looked very agitated and upset. "How could this have happened?" he fumed, slamming his left fist into the palm of his right hand as his face reddened in rage. "And right under my nose, too, in my jurisdiction!"
Standing up, Harry Young swore to himself, looked at Culligan, Frank, Joe and Chet, and said, "I have my work cut out for me now! I've need to flush out this mole before it's too late!"
With that, Harry Young stormed out the office. Frank, Joe and Chet all stared at each other.
"This really put a wrinkle in things," Frank said. "So I guess the mole is also helping this foreign country with LPR."
"Harry Young's going to be quite busy now that it appears he has a double agent in his ranks," Culligan shook his head. "I don't envy the position that he's in one bit."
"So what do we do at this point?" Joe asked.
"Keep up the good investigative work," Culligan said. "You guys made better progress than either I or Captain O'Rourke have in this case. I'm quite impressed!"
"But that guy got away," Joe lamented. "And we almost had him, too."
"Even so," Culligan pointed out, "you managed to find that foreign contact and found out that he has a partner helping him out, most likely that CIA mole. I would bet my next paycheck that the driver is the mole."
Frank nudged Joe on the shoulder. "Hey, we should head back that scene and talk to Dad. He might have a lead or two that we can go check out."
"Good call!" Joe exclaimed. "If we learn anything new, we'll call you, Agent Culligan!"
"Good luck, boys! And thank you again for your help!" Culligan called out as the Hardy brothers and Chet left his office.
Fran, Joe and Chet quickly departed the building and climbed back into their van. Joe took the wheel and they headed back to the scene at 41st Street.
"We better watch our backs!" Chet exclaimed nervously. "Since that CIA mole is on to us!"
"The bad part," Frank said grimly, "is that the gunman knew exactly who we were, which means that mole knows exactly who we are. I'm not liking this one bit, but Culligan's right. We have to maintain focus on this case and get this solved. And hopefully, between Young and Culligan, we'll have people looking out for us."
"One can certainly hope," Joe grumbled. "We need to talk to Dad and get his perspective on this whole thing."
"I'm sure Harry Young is already in Dad's face, trying to get more info from him," Frank said. "He told O'Rourke that he would meet him at the scene when he talked to him on the phone."
A few minutes later, they arrived at the crime scene. There was now crime scene tape everywhere, and there were yellow markers with numbers on them, where evidence had been collected. Captain O'Rourke saw the Hardys and Chet, and waved them over to his direction.
"That's crazy about the gun," Joe said. "Harry Young was absolutely livid when he learned about it." Joe was being careful not to mention the CIA around anybody at the scene.
"I had to make agency notifications outside of Harry Young since it's protocol if we find one of their weapons at a crime scene," O'Rourke said in a low tone.
"Where is he?" Frank asked. "I don't see him here."
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," O'Rourke said. "We're going to have to turn the gun over to him since it's from his organization."
"Even though it was used in the commission of a crime?" Chet asked, with his eyebrows raised.
"Believe it or not, NYPD is low on the food chain," O'Rourke said, and then whispered out of earshot from others in the area , "the CIA and FBI trump us when there are cases involving either or both agencies. We did get what we could from the gun, which wasn't much. The prints we did find are classified, and I don't have that security clearance level."
"Classified fingerprints?" Chet said in a whisper back. "I've never heard of that."
"If they're classified, then that means only those two agencies can access those prints," O'Rourke explained.
"You said on the phone that you found no prints," Frank pointed out.
O'Rourke resumed whispering. "Sorry, Frank, protocols say I have to let CIA be the first to know about classified fingerprints, so I didn't want to give it away over the phone. I'll tell Young when he gets here, but you boys need to act like you know nothing!"
"Is Dad aware?" Frank asked.
O'Rourke nodded. "He knows, and he took off to do some investigating of his own. He didn't say where he was going other than that he'll be back soon."
"What would you like us to do to help out?" Joe asked, not wanting to stand around during an active investigation.
"How about if you retrace your steps when you pursued him?" O'Rourke asked. "Maybe that gunman dropped a clue during your chase of him."
Just then, a blue car screeched around the corner and slammed on its brakes as it arrived at the crime scene. A still agitated-looking Harry Young stepped out of the car.
"Sorry I'm late," he grumbled. "I just got chewed up one side and down the other by my boss for this gun being used by a foreigner. I'll be up to my armpits in paperwork when I get back to the office, but I got my orders to come here and collect the gun so that I can turn it in. O'Rourke, a word in private, please?"
O'Rourke and Young walked off to a spot where they were out of earshot from everybody, and engaged in an intense discussion. Young looked very animated while O'Rourke stayed calm.
"Young looks like he's going to snap," Frank said. "Let's get out of here and retrace our steps during the chase. Maybe we'll find a good clue."
"I'm joining you guys," Chet declared. "I don't want to be near Young when he finally blows his top."
"That was the intent, Chet," Frank smirked. "Besides, a third set of eyes can't hurt, especially with the ground we have to cover."
Frank and Joe scanned the area. "So," Joe started, "the gunman darted across the street from here and headed down this alley towards 40th Street, ran westbound on 40th, went into another alleyway to 39th Street, went westbound again and then the same pattern to 38th Street. Let's see if we missed anything."
They slowly started searching the sidewalks over the path that they took when they chased the gunman, looking for a trace of anything that the gunman could have left behind.
"Nothing on the street," Joe said. "Time for the alleyway. Maybe we'll scare the rats again!"
Frank chuckled as they turned on their flashlights and started their way down the alley. Frank focused on the left hand side while Joe had the right hand side. Chet was behind them, and he was searching both sides with his flashlight to ensure Frank and Joe didn't miss anything.
Things were going along quietly. Surprisingly, they didn't encounter any homeless people in the alleyway. It was pretty quiet, almost too quiet.
Suddenly, a piercing scream filled the air, causing Chet to yell out loud and causing Frank and Joe to jump against the walls.
"What was that?" Joe exclaimed, his heart beating fast. Looking behind him, he saw a rat running away in a hurry.
"Sorry, guys," Chet chuckled. "I think I stepped on that rat's tail."
"Oh, for crying out loud," Frank rolled his eyes. "Be a little more careful, Chet, before you give all of us a heart attack."
"Hey, I was too busy looking for clues to notice any rats," Chet said defiantly.
Joe smirked and shook his head. "Let's just keep going. For all of that chasing, he had to have left something behind."
The alleyway search had turned up nothing of value in their investigation, and the boys then walked westbound on 40th Street, and then immediately went southbound into another alley.
"Our gunman hates 40th Street," Joe said with a smile. "He hated it so much that he immediately went down this alleyway."
"You know what's good about your jokes, Joe?" Frank said. "You're the only one who laughs at them."
Joe shook his head and smirked as they continued down the alleyway. There were the familiar trashcans that the gunman had knocked over in the hopes of blocking the Hardys' pathway. Frank, Joe and Chet had uprighted each trash can, and then looked in the area around each trash can to see if the gunman had dropped anything while dumping the cans over.
"Nothing," Joe said, shaking his head. "This guy's good."
"Let's keep going," Frank said, "we still have 2 more blocks to cover. And if our suspect left anything behind, it would have been most likely when he leaped into that getaway car."
"I'm still ticked off about losing our suspect," Joe sighed. "I think I'm just getting frustrated."
"Stay focused," Frank directed him. "As Dad would always tell us, suspects can unknowingly leave clues at the most random of times."
"True," Joe conceded.
As they left the alleyway and walked westbound on 39th Street, Joe remembered that this was the street where the gunman shoved people and knocked things into the air.
"Hey Frank," Joe said, "this is where he was shoving people out of the way and their belongings scattered. Up a little further by that deli is where the commotion started. Maybe we'll find something there!"
"Good call!" Frank patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "See? We'll figure this out just yet."
"I have a whole new level of respect for you guys," Chet said as he was catching up to them. "You guys sure ran quick and covered a lot of ground! I'm not sure if I could have kept up!"
"Don't sell yourself short, Chet," Joe smirked. "If our suspect had a pizza on his back, you would've caught him!"
"Haha, wise guy!" Chet retorted. "I was the one who got Frank a short cut to keep you from getting shot, so don't forget that!" Then he rubbed his stomach. "Come to think of it, though, pizza does sound pretty good!"
"We'll order a pizza or three when we finish this search," Frank said. "That does sound pretty good. Thanks for making my stomach growl, Chet!"
"Anytime, buddy!" Chet laughed as they were now fast approaching the deli that Joe mentioned.
They slowed down as they got outside of the deli and began searching the sidewalk and street more intensely. From the deli, they could see where they had turned in to the next alleyway. Joe spotted something near the alleyway entrance.
"Is that a footprint?" asked Joe, pointing a small mound of a yellow substance with an indentation.
Chet stepped up closer. "That's a footprint, alright, or at least part of one. And it looks like somebody stepped on a chunk of cheese from the color of this mound."
Frank examined it more closely with his flashlight, and then took a miniature camera out of his pocket and snapped a photo of the partial footprint.
"It looks like the center of the shoe hit this chunk of cheese to form the partial footprint," Frank observed. "The tread on the soles go in a weird 'W' pattern."
"Really?" Chet's curiosity was now piqued. Chet had become a collector of various tennis shoes over the past couple of months and it was slowly becoming a hobby of his. Chet had been working various jobs to finance his new hobby once he saw how expensive such a hobby was becoming.
"Let me take a look at that pattern," Chet said. "I bet I can identify this shoe."
Frank moved out of the way while Chet examined the shoe tread pattern. He looked up, rubbed his chin, and examined the pattern again. He again stopped and appeared deep in thought.
"So what do you think, buddy?" Frank asked. "Any ideas?"
"Look at the pattern, guys," Chet started to say with an air of sophistication that made Joe roll his eyes. "You are correct, Frank, about it being a weird W pattern. Each W in this pattern has 'wings' that extend from the top ends of each W, almost like the Winnebago logo."
"Yes, I'm familiar with the Winnebago logo, Chet," Joe was getting impatient. "Tell us something we don't know."
"Look closely at the 'wings'. You'll see what looks like small arrows coming from the 'wings'. To the casual observer, this would appear to be the tread from the Aero Wings shoe collection. I can assure you, though, that's not the case."
"Can you get to the point, Chet?" Frank asked.
"Tsk, tsk," Chet said, waving his finger in the air. "Good lessons cannot be rushed. Now watch and be amazed at my knowledge."
Pointing to the end of the print, Chet said, "Now see that slash inside that half circle?"
"Now you that mention it, yes," Joe said. "How did you spot that so quickly?"
Chet pointed to his eyes. "With knowledge comes an eye for detail," Chet bragged. "If you had the whole footprint, you would see that the slash is actually part of the letter Z inside a circle. This points to the shoe being a Zulu Wing tennis shoe."
"Zulu Wing?" Frank wrinkled his brow. "Aren't those around 500 dollars a pair?'
Chet nodded proudly. "They sure are! A couple of more paychecks and I'll be getting a pair of these bad boys myself!"
"Wow, Chet!" Joe exclaimed. "That's some nice detective work!"
"See, guys?" Chet smiled. "I have some use to you, after all! I'm not just another pretty face!"
Frank and Joe started laughing, and Chet joined in, but they were quickly interrupted by a familiar-looking man who rushed up to them.
"Hey, weren't you the guys who were chasing that jerk earlier?" the tall dark haired man asked.
"We are," Frank said, "and aren't you the guy who wanted us to punch him in the face for you?'
The man smirked. "Guilty as charged, boys. Hey, by the way, when he ran over me, this dropped off of him and fell onto me. I didn't think much of it until you boys were far gone in that alley. But this might help you find him."
The man handed Frank what appeared to be a small button, but Frank recognized it right away. It was a tracking device!
"Thanks, man," Frank said. "I'm sure this will help us."
The man laughed. "You can still punch him in the face for me if you ever catch him!" With that, the man turned around and went back into a house next to the deli.
Frank showed the device to Joe. "He was being tracked?" asked Joe, confused.
"This had to be the mole doing this in order to keep tabs on him," Frank guessed.
"Maybe," Joe said. "I guess we should finish our search and get back to the crime scene."
Frank pocketed the device, and they continue to search the alleyway, 38th Street and the corner at 8th Avenue where their suspect dove into a moving vehicle, assumed to be driven by the mole. Their search revealed nothing new.
"So we have a partial cheesy footprint and a tracking device," Frank said. "Weird clues, but they're better than nothing, I guess."
"Let's head back to the crime scene, and share this with O'Rourke," Joe said.
"I'm sure Young will be interested in the tracking device," Frank said, patting his pocket to make sure it was still there. "But I want to examine it more closely before we give it to him."
The three of them agreed that they would go the van to drop off the tracking device and then talk to O'Rourke and their dad, if their dad was back from his investigation.
Suddenly, Frank was knocked to the ground by a man in a jogging outfit and a mask! The man kept running!
Chet stayed to tend to Frank, who had the wind knocked out of him, while Joe chased the man in the jogging outfit. They didn't pay attention to which way Frank's attacker went, so Joe quickly lost the attacker. Joe walked back to Chet and Frank.
"Check this out!" Chet exclaimed, handing Joe a piece of paper with duct tape on the back. "The attacker stuck this on Frank's back."
"What?" Joe asked, confused. He examined the paper, which had the words "Be careful who you trust. Things aren't what they seem."
"Weird message, isn't it?" Chet asked Joe.
"I'll say!" said Joe. "It's in Dad's handwriting!"