Disclaimer: Ok, I own Thomas, Jeff, Don and Jim. I don't own Fenton or Laura. Thanks for the great reviews. This is a pretty long chapter, and I know they probably didn't have cell phones back then, but this is fan fiction. I promise that we'll see a little more action from the present day in the next chapter.
Second Flashback – two weeks after the last flashback.
Staring at the picture on the wall opposite him, Fenton tried to think about what else they could be doing to stop the Camarzzi syndicate. Surveillance videos of the exit and entrance were being reviewed daily. Security had been discreetly tightened, with several guards posing as museum tourists. Matt's contacts in the Philadelphia police department had made rounds of pawnshops and other places with pictures of the most valuable items in the museum that were scheduled to be auctioned off to see if anyone had brought anything that could remotely serve as a fake. Fenton's old friend in the NYPD who was now a successful FBI counterterrorism agent was checking with his colleagues who had tracked Camarazzi money laundering operations. The problem was that there were no confirmed pictures of anyone who had worked within the Camarazzi operation or any informants. People either joined for life, kept their mouths shut, or turned up dead.
Now, he was scheduled to meet the art student Joie for lunch in 15 minutes. They had met twice over the last two weeks. Joie was in the museum once or twice a week drawing various art objects that were on display. She was a very talented artist who could capture the perspective of anything perfectly.
In their conversations together, Fenton, (Frank!) he admonished himself, found himself talking about his years at NYPD and his childhood with his older sister Gertrude in New York City. In turn, Joie had told him about going to art school in California and growing up around the country. Fenton felt sad as he knew that the conversations had to end. Although he felt like he would really like to know her better, it wasn't possible because of his work. He had seen too many cops and PI's marriages fall apart to think that he would want to marry. A few years ago, he had decided that he would be married to his work. Each time they met, he vowed to himself that he would break off these conversations, (not a relationship!), but he could never bring himself to do it. However, he did have a vague, foreboding sense that it would be a disaster for him if he continued to see her, and promised himself that he would tell her that he was moving on to another city soon.
Laura (Joie!) got her tuna sandwich in the cafeteria and looked around for Frank/Fenton. Spotting him entering the cafeteria, she gestured to a nearby table and set her lunch down there. The smile that "Frank" flashed her as he was heading to the lunch line made her heart race. No slipups Laura, she told herself. That is Fenton Hardy.Frank does not exist, and the person you are about to eat lunch with may be very dangerous to you. Yet, she could tell that Fenton genuinely enjoyed their conversations, just as much as she did, and she was confident enough in her abilities that she was sure he still had no idea who she was. While neither of them gave specifics, both of them had talked generally about their lives. This will be the last time, Laura told herself. And you cannot say goodbye to him. That troubled her most of all.
"How are you Joie?" asked Fenton setting his tray with a BLT down on the table next to Laura's. "How were your classes yesterday?"
"Good," she answered reaching back to her memories from her undergraduate days and taking a bite of her sandwich. "The professor gave a lecture on how it much easier to draw what we think is there rather than what is actually there. The challenge is allowing our eyes to see what is really there without the mind interfering. How was your day?"
"Not bad. It gets frustrating once in a while trying to look for birds in an urban setting though." Deciding that he had nothing to lose, Fenton took the plunge "I'll probably be moving on soon. There are more rare birds in the countryside around Philadelphia."
"Oh," said Laura, both relieved and disappointed, "I will probably be moving back out west pretty soon anyway."
"You want to move back to California?" asked Fenton with his eyebrow raised.
"I left home to go to college. I never looked back, and I always kept moving. So, I probably won't move to California. I may try New Mexico. I've never lived in a desert before." A brief silence followed as Fenton and Laura were lost in their thoughts. And then, as if by unspoken agreement, the conversation switched to more mundane and less personal things – movies, art, and politics. Their conversation blended in completely with the various conversations that were taking place around them. They parted with a friendly handshake and a generic "see you later", neither of them wanting to get into the specifics.
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Leaving Fenton, Laura walked down the hall and entered the women's restroom which was empty. Going to the mirror, she took off her red wig and took out some tinted contact lenses. Putting in the contact lenses, she stared at the foreign green eyes and familiar blonde hair in the mirror. Time to work, she thought - feeling the thrill of anticipation that she always felt when she was going to do something illegal without being caught.
Exiting the restroom, she walked brazenly past Fenton Hardy who was talking intently with a museum security guard, headed toward the front entrance and pulled out an identification card.
"Hello," she said pleasantly to the woman at the desk. My name is Samantha Rowan and I have an appointment with the curatorial assistant.
"Ah yes," said the woman checking the schedule. "She will be here to meet you shortly."
The curatorial assistant was a petite woman with short black hair, glasses and a perfectly round face. "So, you are here from the insurance company Miss Rowan?' she inquired. "My name is Araiana and I would be happy to help you."
"I just need to verify the materials that will be auctioned off shortly are in good condition and that the paperwork is in order for the insurance purposes." This ruse wasn't as risky as it sounded. She herself had hacked into the computers of both the museum and the actual insurance company to make it look like Samantha Rowan did have an appointment here.
"Please come with me," Ariana said smiling as she turned to a door marked "Exit". "The items that will be auctioned off have been on display, but they were brought down here last night. We are getting ready to clean them and put them on display for the auction." Security was still tight downstairs, Laura noted, although not as bad as upstairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she gestured toward a door. "They are right that way."
Laura walked in the room brightly lit room. Various art objects were randomly scattered around the place. She smiled and put a hand in the pocket of her blazer as if she were looking for a pen. In reality, she was activating a camera. Her hidden camera, with the lens hidden in her buttonhole, was automatically taking one picture every three seconds. She very slowly walked around the room, stopping to look at each and every piece.
"Nothing looks damaged, as I knew nothing would be. All I need is the paperwork for our files that they will be auctioned off and we'll be all set. Someone will be here the day of the auction to make note of everything that is sold."
Ariana turned around. "They are in an office at the other side of the building. Would you like to wait here?"
Sure," said Laura. Perfect, she thought. Now I don't have to pretend I'm going to faint or do anything silly like that. She moved quickly to a nearby office marked curator and made a beeline for the filing cabinet. Although it was locked, she found a key in the desk right next to the cabinet and started searching for the other information she needed. Got it. The auction is scheduled for Thursday. It's Monday. This says that their expert is coming in tomorrow and everybody will be back on Wednesday. So, we'll have to move tomorrow night. Laura started to stuff the papers back in the filing cabinet when she heard –
"Insurance investigator? I would like to meet her."
S---, Laura thought. That's Fenton!
"Yes," replied Ariana. "I left her here while I went to get the paperwork."
It sounded like they were right outside the door. Spinning around to face the door, Laura saw the knob begin to turn. She quietly put the papers back in the correct folder, closed and locked the filing cabinet and put the key back in the desk drawer. With no time to spare, she ducked down under the curator's desk, deactivated her hidden camera and tried not to breathe too loudly.
"That's odd," said Ariana. "Perhaps she is waiting upstairs."
Fenton Hardy entered the curator's office and looked around. He walked over to the filing cabinet, found the key in the drawer, and started looking through the papers. Laura could only see his feet and the lower half of his legs as they shifted as he read. Finally, she heard him close and lock the filing cabinet, but he kept the key.
"Let's see if we can find her upstairs," said Fenton as he closed the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Laura emerged from under the desk and practically ran to the door. Seeing the three people walking down the hall, she silently went the other way to the adjacent stairwell and did run up the stairs. Emerging on the first floor, she immediately pulled out her cell phone and dashed into the women's restroom. Putting the cell phone to her ear, she pretended to listen as five seconds later she heard Ariana say: "I'll see if I can find her."
"That's ok," replied a familiar voice. "Please just give her my number and tell her to call me. I need to meet with someone else."
After she was sure Fenton had gone, Laura sighed with relief and emerged from the restroom while putting her cell phone away.
"Samantha!" said Ariana. "We were looking for you. The freelance security guy they hired would like to meet you."
"I'm sorry," said Samantha. "I just remembered this very important phone call that I had to make, and I came up here to make sure my cell phone would work."
"That's ok," said Ariana. "Here is a card with a number on it where you can reach him. You can give him a call later." Shoot, thought Laura as she walked out of the museum. I wonder how I'm going to get out of this one.
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"Perfect," said Thomas three hours later. "We have what we need. And with the information that you found today, we'll move up the schedule and go in tomorrow night."
Laura smiled and mentally reviewed the plan. Although they could not be sure before sure what items would be auctioned, they had a pretty good idea. Throughout the past two weeks, she had been drawing very detailed sketches of as many seemingly random items as she could. Far more talented, unscrupulous artists were making nearly identical copies of those works from her drawings. With the photographs that she had taken today, they would be able to put the last touches on them and they would be working overnight to complete their job. Only the finished items would be switched for the real ones tomorrow night. That was what troubled Laura. Only a few of the items could really be replaced in time. Money laundering was better – you got to take all of the money.
"Oh, Thomas," she said nervously. "There is one other thing."
"What's up?"
"Well… Fenton Hardy was there today and wanted to meet the insurance investigator. I recognized him from the photograph. He didn't see me, but I have a card and Samantha Rowan is supposed to give him a call. I've already dropped off the papers at the insurance company so they will think that someone did go and get them, but I kept the card. I can't call him, so can you take care of it?"
"Why can't you call him?" asked Thomas, recognizing the general musuem number.
"Well, you can't tell your father. But, I had a run in with Fenton at the museum a few days ago." Disregarding Thomas's open mouth she went on defensively "I didn't tell him anything. I don't think he could recognize me by sight but he will definitely know my voice."
"You what? My father needs to know right now."
"Don't!" she said. "Just ask a woman to call him as Samantha Rowan and let's keep this quiet. Eric will either kill me or yank me off the job. And that will ruin all the plans we have together." Hating herself for this manipulation, she closed her eyes and leaned closer to him and gave him a kiss. A pair of brown eyes flashed before her, and she opened her eyes in shock.
"Fine," said Thomas. "This is the last job after all. I'll ask Evelyn to do it without telling her why."
"Thanks a million," said Laura gratefully.
"Don't mention it." But Thomas did wonder. Although Laura wasn't aware of it, her voice changed when she talked about Fenton Hardy. It became quieter but yet more animated. Why on earth?...
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"Checking," whispered Laura.
"Affirmative," answered Don. "We'll be at a computer soon." That morning, Laura had hacked into the museum's computer and made it look like a shipment of Egyptian mummies was coming into the museum. In reality, Don, Jim and Jeff were hidden in the shipping crate that had been delivered to the museum earlier along with the art objects. Pretty soon, they would disable the alarms in the museum and go to the room where the art had been placed after the expert had examined them earlier. The buyers will sure get a surprise on Thursday, thought Laura gleefully
"Jim is at the computer now, and Jeff is taking care of the cameras," said Don a few minutes later.
"Ok," said a second voice. "Laura, you should be able to see us now." Laura turned to her computer screens next to her. "I do," she said. You are ok. The guard is on the other side of the building and the night watchman who is supposed to be watching the cameras is having a very bad case of diarrhea thanks to that awful stuff Thomas put in his drink earlier."
"That was his fault," murmured Thomas. "He shouldn't have been drinking all that Mountain Dew."
"Thanks to Laura's instructions I've disabled the alarms where we need to go," said Jim.
"We're on schedule," said Thomas from behind Laura. "Make the switch and then exit through the fire escape."
Thomas moved to the drivers seat of the van and Laura watched through the video cameras. Suddenly, she sat up straighter and whispered "Don, where are you?" Because Jeff had frozen the cameras as a precaution on that entire side of the building, she couldn't see them through the cameras.
"We've made the switch. We're taking the originals and headed to the fire escape."
"Abort!" said Laura urgently. "There are about five security guards on that side of the building. They don't know the alarms are disabled yet. Turn around and head toward the back entrance."
"We didn't disable the alarms right there," said Jim tensely.
Thomas was already driving the van toward the back of the museum.
Laura heard the alarms begin to wail as Don said "damn it, move." All three men ran directly for the back entrance as Laura moved to open the side door of the van. The alarms continued as they tumbled into the van through the open door and Laura slammed it shut.
Thomas made a three-point turn in the tight alley to get to the main road. Laura moved into the passenger seat beside him. The glare of his headlights caught a man standing in front of the van with a gun pointed at them.
Thomas grinned and pressed his foot harder against the accelerator. Beside him Laura screamed "Fenton!", realizing that there was no way he could hear her.
Fenton Hardy hesitated as he was temporarily blinded by the headlights, and that was long enough. Rather than shooting, he rolled to one side in a roll that immediately brought him back to his feet facing the van. Yanking an expensive camera out of his pocket, he was able to get a snapshot of the back of the van before it disappeared around the corner. He grinned. The thieves had finally made a mistake. They had forgotten to cover up the rear license plate. Even if the art was gone, and he had no doubt it was, they finally had a very slim lead.