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 much credit for the plot, and sincere thanks.
Thank you to all you nice people who have left commentary and reviews!
January Thaw
By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH
Chapter 12
Frank stared at Joe. "Dad's not home?" he whispered. "That's not good, Joe."
"I know it's not good!" Joe snapped. "I can't think of one reason for him not coming home that doesn't involve something bad happening to him! I knew he shouldn't have gone alone!"
Frank pushed back the covers and got out of bed. "We'd better go look for him. I'll get some clothes on—"
"Whoa!" Joe grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "It's not going to do any good to go storming over there in the dark, with no idea of what's happened." He sighed. "We'll have to wait until it's light, anyway."
Frank sat down beside Joe. "Little brother, you're beginning to sound more like me every day – are you feeling okay?" he teased gently. "Maybe you're coming down with something…."
Joe punched him lightly. "Very funny. Okay, we need to have a plan before we move in. Put that so-called logical mind of yours to work, will you?" He leaned forward, resting his haggard face in his hands. "I've thought until my mind's gone numb."
"And you haven't had any sleep," Frank commented, ignoring the fact that he himself had done the same thing the previous two nights. "You're too tired to concentrate." Frank slid back under his covers, then reached for the blanket folded across the foot of the bed and shoved it toward Joe. "Wrap up in this; you're shivering. Don't you have any sense? – the heat's turned down for the night!" He waited until Joe had obeyed, then leaned back against the headboard, thinking of and discarding possible courses of action. One in particular kept surfacing. What a long shot that would be…we'd need to let the whole gang in on it, though. Would that be safe, or put Callie and Megan in more danger than ever? Megan – and Callie – and possibly Dad. "See what you think of this…."
##########
Callie and Megan hadn't been allowed to go to bed that night – or perhaps it was simply that no one had thought about it. Since Dan Sullivan had left the room so abruptly, the girls had been left completely alone, each sitting cuffed to her chair. Despite their peril, both of them were growing sleepy.
Callie was especially tired from her lengthy performance – and after all, she reasoned, the vomiting had been real! She had a good excuse to be tired! She yawned deeply, then glanced toward Megan, who gave her a weary smile.
"I feel the same way, Megan admitted. "Terribly sleepy…absolutely out on my feet." She chuckled grimly, indicating their seated positions. "So to speak."
"I wonder what happened to Bob? And why Sullivan left and didn't come back?"
"I'm glad he didn't," Megan said. "He's like some sort of reptile – he gives me the creeps."
"I don't want him back either, but I'd like to know what's happened." Callie yawned again, and let her head rest against the back of the chair. "Bob was upset about more than just us tricking him."
"I still can't get over the job you did with that," Megan said with admiration. "You nearly had me convinced, let alone Bob!"
"I did some drama in high school…and I really am allergic to some sorts of nuts. It just took some remembering how I felt the last time I ate almonds, and then going from there!" She sighed. "All that talented performance – and it didn't accomplish a thing…."
Megan nodded wearily and closed her eyes. The room became very silent, as both girls dozed.
The click of an opening door jerked them back to wakefulness, blinking and rubbing their tired eyes. They stared, first in curiosity, then with growing horror, as two figures entered the room. One was Sullivan, his gun firmly in hand. He was shoving another man before him – a tall man, dressed in heavy outerwear, a muffler concealing much of his face, his hat pulled low over his eyes – but both girls gasped in recognition. The man was Fenton Hardy!
"Have a seat, Mr. Hardy." Sullivan escorted the detective to a chair, waited with exaggerated politeness while he removed his coat, hat, and scarf. "Sit," he repeated with emphasis, "and stay put. Move an inch, and somebody takes a bullet. Maybe you, maybe one of them." He jerked his head toward Callie and Megan, while backing toward a chest of drawers. Fenton remained still, his eyes following every move Sullivan made.
Getting another set of manacles from a drawer – Megan had a sudden, irrelevant thought: How many pairs of those things does he have, anyway? – Sullivan cuffed Fenton to his chair in the same manner the girls were restrained, then stepped back and surveyed his handiwork.
"Well, well," he gloated, after a moment or two. "The great Fenton Hardy – caught skulking in the bushes, like a common criminal. Whatever brought you to this neighborhood, Mr. Hardy?"
Fenton made no reply; he remained grimly silent, his dark eyes fixed on his captor.
"Your son doesn't follow instructions very well, it seems," Sullivan continued. "He was ordered not to tell anyone about this, on pain of death – not his death, mind you – theirs." Again he indicated the girls. "Maybe he didn't care about that?"
"He told no one," Mr. Hardy grated, goaded into answering Sullivan's taunt. "He followed your instructions exactly as he was told to do."
"Oh? Then you just happened to be here? A coincidence, perhaps?" Tiring of the game, Sullivan glared at the detective. "What am I going to do with you, Mr. Hardy? Having you here was not part of my plans. You've disrupted things considerably."
"Good. I'm glad to hear that… You must know that if I suddenly disappear, the whole conference will be shifted to a different locale; the security plans you got from Frank will be scrapped, something entirely different will be drawn up. Holding us hostage doesn't do you any good at all."
"I realize that," Sullivan growled, then stamped across the room and slammed out the door.
Fenton turned to Callie and Megan. "Are you two all right?" he inquired urgently. "You haven't been hurt, have you?"
Callie replied. "We haven't been hurt…I'm okay, I guess." She smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy, for causing all this trouble."
"You didn't cause it, Callie," Fenton replied kindly. He turned his gaze to Megan. "Megan, are you all right?"
She nodded. "Is Frank – is he—?"
"Worried sick? Yes. But hanging on." Fenton smiled a little. "Joe's trying to keep him sane."
"Joe's keeping Frank sane? Now there's a switch!" Callie said, with an involuntary giggle.
"Joe's grown up a little, Callie," Mr. Hardy remarked. "You might be surprised at the change."
"Maybe so," Callie admitted, "but it still sounds odd." She shifted, attempting to find a more comfortable position. "This whole situation is odd."
Megan was still watching Fenton. "Mr. Hardy," she asked tentatively, "Frank didn't tell you about this, did he? How did you find out?"
He smiled at her. "No, he didn't tell anyone anything. He wouldn't have jeopardized you girls' lives. But he underestimated Joe's tenacity. Joe knew something was wrong, and he ferreted until he found out what it was."
"What do you think is going to happen? What are they going to do to us?" Megan asked him.
"I don't know, Megan," he answered. "But what I said to him – what's he called? Sullivan? – is true. Keeping me prisoner ruins all his plans for disrupting that conference." Mr. Hardy turned toward Callie. "Callie, your parents are very worried about you, by the way. The police have been called in to search for you."
Megan leaned her head back against the chair and hot tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids. "My mother doesn't even know…." she whispered.
The abrupt opening of the door startled the three captives. Sullivan strode into the room, again brandishing his gun. "I've decided what to do with you," he announced. "Hardy, you're going to remain a guest for just a short while – just long enough for me to shift these nice young ladies to a different location. And I want to remind you of something: I didn't have any trouble getting information on them or capturing them. I can do the same thing with your sons – or your wife. So you aren't going to cause me any trouble, once you're out of here – because their lives are my security."
Callie spoke without thinking. "Your information wasn't so great!" she snapped. "You didn't know Frank and I weren't a couple anymore – you'd never have even known about Megan if I hadn't—" Suddenly realizing what she was saying, Callie put her free hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Megan stared at her, shocked. Fenton's lips twitched – and Sullivan roared with maniacal laughter.
##########
"…will it work, do you think?"
Joe stared at his older brother, blue eyes wide with consternation. "You're crazy! That knock on the head must have screwed up your brain! Just walk up to the door and ask to be let inside?"
"I realize I can't do it, Joe," Frank said patiently, "and you can't either. We're going to need help with this." He glanced at the clock, which read a discouraging 4:35. "It's too early to call anyone."
Joe nodded. Suddenly he felt very tired. "I hate all this waiting around." He yawned and shivered.
Frank took a long assessing look at his younger brother. "You need to get some sleep, kid. You're not going to be good for anything at all later today if you're a zombie."
Joe opened his eyes and returned the look. "When was the last time you ate anything?" he countered. "Yesterday at breakfast?"
"Hey, I had lunch!" Frank defended himself. "Just – not a lot…."
"I'll make you a deal," Joe proposed. "I'll grab a nap if you go down and get something to eat. Right now, this minute."
Frank gave him a mutinous stare, but finally shrugged and nodded. "Okay," he conceded, and pushed back the bedclothes. "Crawl in; no sense in messing up both the beds." While Joe got into bed, Frank donned his bathrobe and a pair of heavy socks. "I'll be back in a few minutes – and you'd better be asleep!" With that parting shot, Frank quietly exited his bedroom and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, hoping he could find something to eat without waking Laura in the process.
##########
At seven-thirty, Frank stepped back into his bedroom, having eaten, napped a bit more (on top of Joe's bed), showered, shaved, and dressed. Joe was sound asleep, curled into a ball beneath the blankets. Poor kid, Frank thought, gazing down at his slumbering brother. I've put him through a lot in the last day or two… Usually, I'm the one looking out for him, taking care of him. Now the situation's been reversed; he's been the one looking out for me. And he's been doing a pretty good job of it, too! Reluctantly, he put a hand on Joe's shoulder and shook it gently.
"Joe? Wake up. We've got to get going, little brother."
Joe blinked his eyes open, turned his head and focused on Frank's face, then sat up. "Okay, I'm awake." He looked at the sunlight coming in through the window, then glanced at the clock. "Why did you let me sleep so long?" he complained, then finished his sentence with a jaw-cracking yawn.
"We can't start calling people much earlier than this," Frank reminded him. "And you needed the sleep."
Grumbling at Frank's logic, Joe got out of bed. "I'll get dressed," he sighed. "…back in a minute." He disappeared into the bathroom, heading for his own room. Frank hastily smoothed his bed – there, it looks sort of made! – and settled at his desk, reaching for the phone.
By the time Joe returned, Frank was talking to Tony Prito. "…I realize it's early, but we need your help, Tone. It's something pretty serious – I'd rather not explain it all over the phone. Can you be here in an hour?….You can? Great! See you then." Frank ended the call and turned to grin at his brother. "One down, five to go." He glanced at the list of telephone numbers on his desk and began punching buttons. "I'll let you call Vanessa yourself – Hello, Phil? Hey, it's Frank. Did I wake you up?….Sorry. Listen, we need a favor – are you free today?"
##########
By eight-thirty, Tony, Phil, Chet, Biff and Vanessa were gathered in the Hardys' kitchen. Laura had smilingly offered them juice, coffee and cinnamon toast, then announced she was going for an early-morning walk, and departed. Only Frank and Joe realized that anything was wrong; their mother hid her anxiety over her husband's extended absence well. But she hugged them both tightly before she left, looking searchingly into their eyes. Laura was no fool; she knew her boys were planning something.
Frank started the explanation to the others; of course Vanessa already knew the situation. She sat quietly sipping her coffee, watching reactions and clasping Joe's hand. As was his habit, Frank took it step by step, starting with his accidental meeting with Callie at the mall. He got as far as Megan's kidnapping before his voice trembled and broke, and he was unable to continue. Joe reached over and gripped his older brother's shoulder comfortingly, then took up the story.
"…and Dad never came home last night," Joe concluded, at last. "We figure that whoever has Megan and Callie now also has Dad. We've got to try to find them – before something else happens."
"Do you think they'll call you again, with more instructions?" Biff asked intently.
Frank shook his head. "What else could they ask for? I don't have anything to do with the security arrangements for the conference. Dad's the only one that had any contact with the government agencies and the other countries' security people." He paused, considering. "Although I suppose they could be forcing him to do something, holding Megan's and Callie's lives over his head…." At that thought, the elder Hardy's face blanched, and he closed his eyes tightly for a moment.
"Hang in there, Frank; it'll be okay," Tony murmured.
"What do you want us to do?" Phil, ever the practical one, asked.
"Frank's got this harebrained scheme in mind," Joe replied. "He wants us to check out the houses, hoping to spot something suspicious…by going door-to-door with some excuse or other."
"It's not harebrained!" Frank exclaimed. "I realize that neither Joe nor I can do it; that's why we called you guys in! There can't be more than three or four houses on either side of the street that would fall into the 'suspicious' category. If you can come up with some sort of reason to knock on the doors and ask for admittance, or an interview, or something – we have a good chance of narrowing it down even more."
A minute or two of silence followed, as the teens thought over the plan. Finally Vanessa spoke.
"It should work. We can go with two different options. One, we can be doing a school report on something – um, let's see…how about a survey to find out how many people take down their Christmas trees right after Christmas, or wait until after New Year's, or something like that?"
She was greeted with a burst of laughter from nearly all the boys. "Oh come on, Van, that's silly!" Chet scoffed.
"I've been asked to do reports on sillier topics than that!" she shot back. Chet shrugged, and conceded her point with a nod, then took a bite of his toast.
"The other option," she continued then, "is to have a breakdown – car trouble. We can either ask to use a telephone, to call a tow truck, or Triple-A, or something, or I can ask to use the restroom while we're waiting…because it's so cold, you understand," she concluded with a grin. "If I'm let inside – it's a probability that that's not the house we're looking for; at any rate, I'd have the chance to look around."
"You're nuts!" Joe expostulated. "These people have Callie, Megan, and probably our dad – and now you're figuring on blithely walking into the house too?" He scowled blackly at his girlfriend. "There's no way I'm letting you do something that dangerous!"
"Joe, it has to be me," Vanessa replied. "At least for the bathroom ploy." Joe flushed, but still looked rebellious, and shook his head defiantly.
"All right, then go with the report angle," Phil said soothingly, hoping to avert an argument between Vanessa and Joe. "Tony and I can go with Vanessa on one side of the street, and Biff and Chet can work the other side. We can keep you two informed with the cell phones."
"And we'll be right around the corner, just out of sight," Frank answered. "If anything looks at all out of kilter, get out fast, and then call us."
"Okay, it's settled then—" Phil began, when the telephone rang, interrupting his words.
The Hardys glanced at each other, letting the phone ring again. Finally Joe picked it up.
"Hardy residence. Oh, morning, Con."
Six breaths of relief sounded in the kitchen as Joe identified the caller.
"…yeah, he's here. Hold on a second." Joe extended the telephone toward his brother. "It's Con Riley," he repeated. "Wants to talk to you."
Frank tilted an inquiring dark brow as he took the phone. "Con? This is Frank….oh, yes, I heard. They called Dad about it….No – no, I haven't. The only time I saw her all of Christmas break was the day after Christmas."
Joe, watching intently, saw Frank's color rise; although the elder Hardy's voice remained cool and calm, he was turning redder with each passing moment.
"….Dad asked us to keep an eye out; we'll be glad to, Con. If we find out anything for sure, we'll let you know….Okay, that's all right. Sorry I couldn't help more."
Frank replaced the phone in its stand, and turned to the others, a wry smile quirking one corner of his mouth. "I think we've just been given official sanction to look for Callie Shaw, group!" He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I don't like having to lie to Con, though."
"You didn't lie," Tony reminded him. "You really haven't seen Callie."
"Oh, I know. It was the literal truth – but I still feel bad about it."
"Come on, let's go!" Joe urged him impatiently. "Let's get this show on the road!"
Glances sped about the circle, then the seven rose to their feet and donned coats, hats and gloves. Joe scribbled a hasty note to their mother, then closed and locked the back door as he exited last. The teens piled into their cars and set off, with the Hardy van leading the way.