Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2002, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give credit for the entire plot, and heartfelt thanks.

Thank you to the kind readers who have left commentary and feedback. I appreciate you immensely.

January Thaw

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 8

Joe and Frank sat quietly at the kitchen table, ostensibly reading sections of the morning newspaper, but each immersed in his own thoughts. Frank held a piece of toast in one hand, and took a bite occasionally as he stared at the front page; Joe was spooning up cereal without a great deal of attention; several times he missed the bowl completely, and once he absent-mindedly hit himself in the chin with the spoon.

Finally, Frank broke the silence. "Since you don't have school today, what are you going to do?"

Joe glanced across the table. "Oh – I don't know. Get together with some of the guys, maybe; shoot some hoops. Hang out with Vanessa." He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "You want to play basketball later?" He watched Frank carefully from under his lashes.

"Maybe – I'll see when the time comes." Frank avoided the inquisitive blue gaze of his younger brother. "I've got some things to do around here."

Joe nodded, got to his feet, and put his cereal bowl in the sink. "I'm going to go up and take a shower," he commented, and left the kitchen.

When Joe was halfway up the stairs, the telephone began to ring. He took the last several steps in two bounds, and hurtled into his room, carefully closing the door behind him. The phone cut off in mid-ring; apparently Frank had answered it. Joe bent over his little tape recorder and watched it whirring softly. He didn't dare pick up the receiver on his extension phone, for fear the sound would carry over the wires; all he could do was wait.

Finally the recorder clicked off; the phone call was ended. Joe pushed Rewind, then hit Play when the tape hit the beginning once more. He listened, holding his breath.

"Hardy residence." Frank's voice, sounding somewhat shaken.

"Frank Hardy, please." Joe felt an uneasy thrill; it was the same person who had made the cassette recording.

"This is he."

"Well, young Mr. Hardy, I have a request to make of you. I need some information…and you're going to get it for me."

"What kind of information?" Frank grated.

"There's a fairly important conference scheduled to begin the end of this week. A conference where the President, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, the German Chancellor, and several other heads of state will be gathered. I happen to know your father is handling the security arrangements for this conference. I want copies of the plans for those security arrangements…and you're my best bet for acquiring them."

Joe's eyes widened as he listened, and he pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.

"I'll expect them delivered to my courier, Mr. Hardy, at 3:00 this afternoon. You will meet him behind the supermarket that closed last autumn; the one on 12th Street. Please note: behind the store. Not the front parking lot. When I'm satisfied that you have carried out your part of the bargain, I will release Ms. Shaw and Ms. Wright – unscathed, I might add. But only when I am satisfied, do you understand?"

Frank sounded as if he were choking when he replied. "May I ask something?"

"Go ahead."

"I don't – I don't think the plans have been finalized yet…sir. Even if I can get them, what if they are changed later?"

"A very astute question; I applaud you!" The deep voice sounded amused. "I'll deal with that aspect if the situation arises."

Frank spoke again, and now Joe could hear terror underlying the carefully controlled tones. "I'd like to speak to Meg – to Miss Wright, please."

"I expected you would. One moment please." There followed some rustlings and clicks, then a soft, familiar voice sounded. Joe closed his eyes, wincing. It was definitely Megan.

"Frank, are you there?"

"Megan! Oh thank God! Are you okay?" Frank's voice broke. "Tell me – tell me you're all right…."

"I'm all right, Frank." Megan paused a moment, then went on, her voice becoming stronger as she continued speaking. "Callie's all right too. They haven't – haven't mistreated us. We haven't been hurt or anything." She paused again. "Frank – you mustn't do this – what you're being asked to! You can't! What this could mean—"

"Megan, I'll do whatever I have to do." Frank spoke firmly; no hesitation now.

"You mustn't – ohhhh!" Megan's sudden gasp made Joe jump, and he heard, on the tape, Frank's quick indrawn breath.

"What are you doing to her?" the elder Hardy practically screamed the words.

"Frank, it's all right, I'm all right." Megan was speaking again, hastily. "But I guess I'm not supposed to tell you that you shouldn't do what they're asking!" She gave a shaky little laugh, and Joe found himself swallowing hard, comparing the taut sound to the bubbling giggles Megan's usual laughter involved. "Please, dearest, please remember – no matter what happens – I love you. I love you so much. The last three months have been so wonderful."

Frank groaned almost inaudibly. "I love you too, Megan," he whispered. And then there was the sharp click of a receiver being replaced.

Joe shut off the tape recorder and made sure it was set to tape any other incoming calls. He ached to go downstairs and check on Frank, but knew that would be a mistake. Instead, he headed for the bathroom and turned on the water for his shower.

Ten minutes later Joe sat on his bed tying his shoelaces and wondering if it was too early to call Vanessa. As he pondered, the phone rang again. This time he reached out and lifted the receiver to answer it.

"Hardy residence….oh, hi Vanessa! I was just thinking of calling you." Joe leaned back against the headboard and crossed his feet at the ankles, making himself comfortable. "You already talked to Callie's mother? What did she have to say?"

"She's very upset," Vanessa reported. "They've called the police, of course, but you were right; they can't do anything until 48 hours has gone by. She called Callie's boyfriend in Colorado – he hasn't heard anything from her, of course. Right now, the Shaws are simply waiting….Oh Joe, I felt so sorry for them!"

"I know. Listen, hon – Frank got the call this morning!" Joe lowered his voice conspiratorially, even though he knew no one but Vanessa could hear him.

"Oh! What did they say?" Vanessa demanded.

"He's supposed to give them the security arrangements that Dad's setting up for that big conference – the one with several world leaders."

"Joe – with information like that, there's no telling what kind of havoc could be created!"

"I know," Joe replied grimly, "But that's what the demand is. Oh, he was allowed to talk to Megan."

"Is she all right? And what about Callie?"

"She says they're both all right – so far, anyway. She begged him not to do what was being asked – brave little girl, our Megan!" Joe felt his throat tighten as he remembered the quaver in Megan's voice. "But I know Frank – he'll do whatever it takes to save her. Even if it endangers national security – or international." he added thoughtfully.

"When is Frank supposed to get them the plans?" Vanessa asked.

"Three this afternoon…at that old supermarket on 12th; the one that closed in October. Behind the store, the guy said. Which means I'm going to be there at 2:00, where I can watch the exchange go down. Maybe I can tail them; find out where Callie and Megan are."

"You mean, we are going to be there," Vanessa stated firmly.

"No way are you getting in on this!" Joe objected hastily. "It's wa-a-y too dangerous!"

"You can't go in the van; Frank needs it, and these people already know what it looks like," his girlfriend reminded him. "However, they probably haven't done enough research to know what kind of car I drive. And I'm not letting you borrow it unless I get to come along."

"Sheesh!" Joe slapped his forehead with his free hand. "You are impossible, you know that?"

"I know," she replied sweetly. "So I'll pick you up at 1:45."

##########

All during that morning, after Fenton and Laura arose, ate their breakfasts, went about their various activities, Frank strove to behave in as normal a fashion as possible. He showered and shaved – noting: I look like death warmed over! when he gazed at his mirrored reflection. He managed to hold rational conversations with the other members of his family. And he watched for his chance to get into his father's study.

At lunchtime, the opportunity came. Fenton ate quickly, then excused himself and departed the house, telling Laura he would be gone for several hours. Once the lunch dishes were cleaned up, Laura left to run some errands, reminding Joe before she left that she expected some definite improvement in the condition of his room by the time she returned. Joe rolled his eyes and sighed, but meekly complied; disappearing into his room, from whence there soon issued much banging of closet doors and dresser drawers.

Alone downstairs, Frank walked silently to the door of the study. It was closed, but when he gently tried the knob, he discovered Fenton had left it unlocked. Frank took a deep breath, shivering as he thought about what he intended on doing – and slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.

He scanned the top of his father's desk. Fenton was meticulous when working; there were no loose papers scattered about; no open files. Frank sat down in the desk chair and began going through the folders. Finally he located what he wanted: a detailed list of alarm systems, guard sites, passwords and codes. This is so wrong! How can I do this? It not only violates national security, it will discredit Dad! Frank buried his head in his hands for a moment, his brain whirling. But if I don't do it – oh God, if I don't…. The decision was made. Frank removed the lists and turned to the small copier in the corner of the den. Hands shaking, he arranged the papers across the glass screen, shut the lid, and pushed Start.

When the copies slid out, Frank grabbed them, folded them into quarters and stuffed them into his jeans pocket. Then he replaced the original papers in their file folder, tucked it into the pile on the desk, and slipped out of the room.

##########

True to her word, Vanessa arrived at the Hardy home at 1:45. Joe yelled a quick goodbye to Frank, who was seated in the family room, apparently watching television, and sprinted out the door, snatching up his jacket as he went.

"I hope you're satisfied!" he grumbled, settling himself in the Wrangler's passenger seat.

Vanessa smirked at him. "What kind of a greeting is that?" she asked. Joe scowled for a moment, then leaned across the intervening space and kissed her.

"You are totally infuriating," he murmured, "but I have to admit, this whole scheme will work better with you here." He leaned back into his seat and fastened his safety belt. Vanessa put the little jeep in reverse and backed out of the Hardys' driveway.

"This is going to take a while," she commented as she drove. "So I brought some things to while away the time – magazines, and snacks and stuff."

Joe grinned in anticipation. "Hmmm – you have good instincts, girl!" he said, glancing into the back seat at the various sacks. "Remind me to bring you along on stakeouts more often!"

"Where do you want to park?" Vanessa asked Joe a few minutes later, as she neared the old supermarket.

"Somewhere where you'll look natural sitting for an hour," he responded. "How about in front of that house across the street?" He pointed to the one he meant. "I don't dare have you park in back – Frank knows your car! – but we can see anyone that comes to that back area, or leaves."

She nodded, and efficiently parked her vehicle. The two of them settled in for their wait.

##########

Fifty-two minutes later, Joe, who had been slouched down in his seat, idly observing the parking lot, nudged Vanessa, who was leafing through a magazine. "Look," he murmured. "That dark brown car that just turned the corner – it's slowing down."

The two of them watched the car closely. It slowed even more, then turned into the store's parking lot; it sped across the empty space and disappeared behind the store. It didn't return.

"That's our quarry," Joe noted, writing busily in a small notebook. "I got the license plate number."

"It looked like there were two people in it," Vanessa remarked. "Two men – bundled up!"

"Now keep an eye out for Frank." Joe slouched down even further. "And try to look inconspicuous, Van!" he added with a grin. "I don't think he's got a clue about me knowing what's going on, but let's not take unnecessary chances!" Vanessa sighed, but obediently slid downward in her seat, scrunching her long legs beneath the steering wheel.

Five minutes ticked by – and then Vanessa reached out and touched Joe's arm. "There—" she breathed. "The van!" They watched as Frank drove into the parking lot, then circled the building as the brown car had done, and disappeared from view.

Frank parked the van, turned off the engine, and got out. He noted the presence of the dark brown car, recognizing the vehicle that had arrived to take Megan away two days before. He leaned against the van's side, waiting – outwardly calm, but inside his heart was racing frantically, and his breathing was uneven and rapid.

The doors of the car opened, and two men stepped out…men dressed in heavy coats, with ski masks covering their heads. Although half the people on the streets of Bayport were wearing just such articles of clothing, due to the bitterly cold weather, Frank thought these two looked particularly sinister. They walked toward the van, and he waited tensely.

One of the masked figures spoke. "You brought them?" Frank thought the voice sounded like the "policeman" who had participated in Megan's kidnapping.

"Yes." The elder Hardy boy snapped the word out, and shut his mouth tightly.

"Hand it over." The second man stepped forward, holding out his hand. Frank reached into his pocket, and pulled out the folded papers.

"Here." Frank showed them, but didn't extend his arm, hoping to entice the man closer. If I could just get the jump on him…. But the man jerked his head at his partner, who stepped behind Frank.

"Don't get any cute ideas, kid!" snarled the second man. "Just give him the papers."

Frank reluctantly handed them over, and was about to step back when he felt his arm seized. It's a trick! They're going to take me too! he thought, and began to struggle frantically against the restraining hands.

"Just something to remember us by, kid," the voice growled near his ear. "And to remind you that we mean business."

Frank attempted to twist away one more time – and as he did so, he glimpsed a descending arm, from the corner of his eye. Something impacted the back of his head with terrible force; pain exploded through his skull…and Frank Hardy crumpled to the snowy pavement, unconscious.