Author's note: Thanks for the first reviews! Thank you also for conveniently disregarding the distance between MIT and Bayport. Nancy Drew will not be making an appearance in the story. Although I am a Nancy fan, this is a Hardy Boys story. I just threw her name in the last chapter. Sorry for misleading people.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fenton or Laura.
Flashback: 27 years ago
Fenton Hardy reached for the phone as it rang in his small office. He had left the New York City police department three years ago to start work as a private investigator. Although he missed being around other police officers, he enjoyed the freedom that came with his new job. He could travel and was free to take on more challenging cases. During the last year, he had built up a reputation as an upcoming, serious private investigator.
"Hardy Investigations," he said in his abrupt, no-nonsense voice.
"Fenton? It's Matt. I'm wondering if you could take a case for me in Philadelphia."
"Sure," said Fenton relaxing immediately. Matt was a police officer from Philadelphia who he had worked with when the NYPD and Philadelphia police were collaborating on bringing down a drug lord who operated in both New York City and Philadelphia. If Matt was asking for help, it was something quite serious and currently beyond police resources to handle.
"Can you come to Philadelphia soon?" asked Matt. "I know your phones are fine, but I don't want to give details over the phone. You can come directly to the police station and then we can go over to the museum together." Business was slow, so Fenton was soon on his way after making a quick stop at the library to glance at the newspaper and consult a couple of books.
Three hours later Fenton walked into the Philadelphia police station and greeted the officer at the desk. Two minutes later, he had accepted a cup of coffee and started listening to Matt's story.
"Six months ago, a museum in Tucson, Arizona decided to have an auction of valuable art objects to raise money for the museum. Three weeks before the auction, the art was examined by highly qualified experts and pronounced genuine. However, on the day of the auction, one of the collectors who had planned to bid on an item noticed that the particular item was actually a very well-done fake. The curator then had all of the items reexamined and discovered that fully one quarter were fake. The museum was not able to sell those items at all and had to close down."
"As you know Fenton," Matt continued, "there is still a black market for art objects both in this country and abroad. I have no doubt that they were sold to a private collector for hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars. Since that theft six months ago, the thieves have been moving towards the east coast. So far, they have hit Houston, Texas, Atlanta, Georgia, and a couple of museums in Ohio. All the museums were about to close and had decided to auction off their items. The items were examined before the robbery, all by different experts, and declared genuine. But, on the day of the robbery, they were discovered to be fakes. It got out of hand after the last theft in Georgia. The item was actually sold to a collector who had all of his friends over to his house to admire the piece. Well, one of his friends noticed instantly that it was an excellent counterfeit. The museum investigated the buyer and then refunded the money, but it was embarrassing for everyone involved."
"So you need to find out who has access to the museum, and who has the resources to pull this off. The thieves obviously had to have very good inside access since security was not alerted."
"We have a pretty good idea of who it is, we just have no idea how they do it or any way of catching them. Have you heard of the Camarazzi Syndicate?"
Fenton sat up straighter – "The Camarazzi Syndicate? I didn't think they were interested in art work. They've usually concentrated on money laundering and blackmail."
"We've received word that they are branching out in their operations. Since the feds have been cracking down on their money laundering schemes, they've had to branch out. It's run by a man named Eric Camarazzi, and we have no idea where he is, who works for him, or what he looks like. One low-level person we caught let us know that they are planning on hitting a museum in Philadelphia -"
"before the auction next month?" Fenton asked, recalling the article he had read in the newspaper.
Matt nodded. "Our informant was too scared to say anything else and committed suicide in jail."
Noticing Fenton's raised eyebrow, Matt nodded. "His cell mate was in jail for not paying child support and has no ties to Camarazzi. The informant was being watched by corrections officials, but he was killed anyway. You can work with officer Young on this, but we don't have enough officers and detectives to spare anyone else."
After briefly considering the case, Fenton Hardy agreed to take it. His competitive and adventurous streak relished the challenge, and he was curious about how these thieves were able to be successful for an extended period of time.
Leaving the police station, Fenton Hardy and officer Young walked over to the museum. Matt had set up an appointment with the curator in a half an hour, and Fenton and officer Young split up to "case the joint", or walk around the inside and outside of the museum thinking about how they would rob it if they ever decided that being detectives didn't pay well enough.
Fenton wandered through the exhibits on glass art, impressionist paintings and modern art. He noticed with approval the museum staff and security guards stationed throughout the museum and the alarm systems wired to the paintings and glass cases. Walking around outside, he noticed that there were plenty of bushes outside the museum for someone to hide, but that was ridiculous as these thieves obviously had superior technology and did not need to resort to hiding in ugly bushes. Fenton then started staring at the roof of the museum looking for ways an intruder could enter.
"Sorry!" Fenton said as he bumped into someone, which wasn't surprising since he was paying more attention to the satellite dish on the nearby building than where he was going.
"That's ok," replied a female voice, "I wasn't paying too much attention either". Fenton looked directly at the person who he had bumped into. He saw a short and slender redhead with vivid blue eyes. Noticing that she had dropped her pen when he bumped into her, he bent down to pick it up.
"Sorry for my clumsiness, I was looking at… the birds." Why am I so talkative, he thought, just move on and get back to the job.
"Don't worry. I was looking at the hydrangea bushes, and I would have bumped into you if you hadn't bumped into me first." She winced.Did I really say that? she wondered.
Fenton turned around to look at the hydrangea bushes. Even though they would be great for a criminal to hide in, he didn't think they were all that beautiful. "My sister has a flower garden in upstate New York. But, I don't pay too much attention to flowers myself." The man and the woman looked at each other for a long moment and then abruptly turned away.
"What's your name?" the woman asked him suddenly. "I should be around the museum drawing for my art class during the next few weeks."
"F - Frank," Fenton lied. It wasn't that he thought this woman was dangerous. But, as a private investigator he had no time for any women in his life and the more distance the better. "What's yours?"
"Joie," the woman replied.
"I'd better go," said Fenton, realizing he'd be late for the appointment with the curator. "I have an urgent appointment I can't miss."
"Bye."
"Bye."
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Vivid blue eyes looked into emerald green eyes as the two of them exchanged a long kiss. 22 year old Laura Basden broke apart from Thomas Camarazzi and started down the hall. "Your father's waiting for us," she called back to him. "Do you have any idea why?"
"None whatsoever," Thomas said catching up to her. "But we still have 10 minutes before the meeting. Where were we?" He leaned forward to hold her again.
"I'm serious," said Laura looking directly at him. "You know I'm not totally comfortable with this art thing Eric has. I prefer money laundering and blackmail any day. This museum thing is so much more complicated."
"You know the Feds nearly caught us the last time. You're the only reason this organization survived. We need to do something else until the heat goes elsewhere and they forget about us."
"Why?" she demanded, leaning her head against his shoulder. "We have more than enough money. Sure, it is lots of fun pulling jobs and not getting caught, but I'd much rather do something we are more comfortable with instead of… art. It's so much trouble to sell it afterwards."
"No worries," said Thomas putting both of his arms around her. "This Philadelphia job will be the last one, I'm sure. Dad's got enough artifacts and cash to last him a lifetime." Several minutes later he whispered "And now, we'd better go or we'll really be late for the meeting."
Approaching the white house, Thomas and Laura gave the correct password and were admitted to the Camarazzi lair as Thomas only half-jokingly called it. After the butler (armed) escorted Laura and Thomas to the library, Eric Camarazzi put out his cigar and held up a hand for Laura to kiss, which she did, albeit as gently as possible.
"There's been a slight development," Eric said. "Sources say that a police officer named Matt, who obviously has too much time on his hands, got a bee in his bonnet and actually started asking nosy questions about our work." Eric shook his head as if the very idea that someone could do such a thing was ludicrous.
"He would be taken care of, except we have a bigger problem. Matt called in Fenton Hardy."
Laura did not recognize the name, but Thomas did "The Fenton Hardy," he demanded? "We avoided New York City altogether because of him and now you are trying to tell me he's here?"
"They worked together on a case in New York." He threw down photographs that had been taken from a discreet distance. "New Yorkers have managed to get some photographs of him. He doesn't know these photographs even exist."
Ohmigod Laura thought staring at the photographs. He's the guy who said he was looking at the birds. And he lied to me! If he's as good as they think he is, he probably bumped into me on purpose, already knows who I am and knows that I lied to him too! She now had a decision to make. She could admit that she already met him and he may be able to identify her again, which, despite her relationship with Thomas, would probably get her either exiled to Siberia or killed. Eric tolerated no slipups or failures. Or, she could play a double game and try to avoid Fenton without letting Thomas or Eric know what she was doing. Fenton did think she was a redhead after all, and as long as she kept her distance and got some contact lenses, she would probably be ok. Why was it so much easier to think of him as Fenton than Frank?
She turned her attention back to the conversation in time to see Eric shake his finger at her and say "I don't want any problems with Fenton Hardy, Laura. You do this; you will get promoted to be my right hand operative. Even if Hardy figures out what museum we are at, we will be out of this town in six weeks. Everything has gone like clockwork and not even Hardy can stop us now."
For Fenton Hardy's sake, Laura Basden sincerely hoped that Eric Camarazzi was right.
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Later that evening Fenton Hardy poured himself a glass of wine and sat at the small table in his hotel room. The visit with the curator had gone well. Security at the museum would be discreetly increased while he tried to figure out how the Camarazzi gang was managing to rob many museums without detection. As Fenton jotted down ideas, he tried desperately not to think of the woman he had met earlier that day...