Since I wrote this about ten years ago, some of the technology may seem a little dated - like Walkmans instead of Ipods and no cellphones. I decided to leave it in the Hardy Boys Casefiles era and not try to bring it into the present.

Chapter VI

"Joe!" Frank hollered. "Hard starboard!" Joe swung the tiller, but the yacht was fast. There didn't seem to be any way to avoid a collision.

"He can't see us!" Joe yelled back. "No running lights! Get ready! We may have to jump!"

Frank stared, mesmerized, as the yacht bore relentlessly down on them. Just as it seemed they would have to abandon ship and hope for the best, the skiff took on a burst of speed and passed within feet of the yacht's massive side. It seemed to Frank as though he could reach out and touch the portholes as they passed. Just as he was drawing a breath of relief, he heard Joe calling to him frantically.

"Frank! The wake! I think - " Sure enough, the wake of the yacht swelled under the tiny craft, lifting it high on the port side. Joe tried to turn the skiff, to take the worst of it at a right angle, but it happened too fast. The water pushed unrelentingly at their toy boat, flipping it over and driving it under.

Frank felt for a moment the cold shock of the water, then he was floating, wafting, down, down...it seemed relaxing...a relief, after the horrors of the evening. His limbs drifted weightlessly around him. Water pushed into his nose and throat, and the sudden choking checked the lassitude that had threatened to overwhelm him. Kick! he ordered himself fiercely. Kick, or you'll drown! He fought his way above the waves, coughing and blowing water. Another wave submerged him for a moment, but now he was alert and he fought back, treading water.

"Joe?" he called, his eyes fighting through the fog. "Joe!" Come on, Joe, answer me! He turned around and around, searching for a sign of his brother. "Joe!" He thought he heard a faint call in response, and turned in that direction. Something seemed to move in the fog ahead and he started toward it, forcing his tired, half-frozen body to function. As he got closer, he saw that it was Joe, hanging on to the end of a pier and waving to him. "Wow," he gasped. "Am I glad to see you."

"Same here. I was afraid to swim away from the pier for fear of losing it in the fog, but in another second I would have had to. Let's get out of this bathtub."

They dragged themselves onto the pier and lay there, shivering.

"A-a-nd I th-thought I was c-c-cold b-before!" Joe managed. Frank nodded numbly. "W-we'd better m-move, b-b-before we f-f-freeze." They struggled to their feet, leaning on each other for support and, trailing water, started down the pier.

"I g-guess a c-c-cab is out of the q-question." Frank chattered. Joe stopped so suddenly that Frank bumped into him. "W-what?" Joe pushed his drenched hair off his face and grinned through his chattering teeth. He gave a weak whoop and started forward at a shambling run. Frank stared after him, wondering if the dunking had effected his mind. There didn't seem to be any choice but to follow.

He found Joe at a table where a pretty blonde girl was laying out tee shirts. Figures, he thought. Only Joe Hardy could think about picking up girls after a harrowing night in the Alcatraz isolation hole and a dunking in the San Francisco Bay.

As he approached them the blonde girl turned to stare at him. Okay, he thought irritably. I must look pretty bad, but no worse than Joe.

"It's you!" she said in amazement. Frank looked at Joe questioningly.

"Dru, meet my brother, Frank Hardy."

"Your brother!" Now it was Joe's turn to be stared at. "You mean to tell me that you didn't know your own brother is a diabetic?"

"A what?" Frank joined her in staring at Joe, running a hand through his wet, dark hair. "Oh. Wait - I remember." He looked at Dru. "I think I owe you a vote of thanks."

She took in their drenched appearance for the first time. "But you guys are soaked! What happened?"

"We took a little early morning swim. In the Bay," Joe explained ruefully. "I know you're probably not open yet, but I was wondering if we could buy some dry clothes?"

Dru glanced at a nearby table. "Bernie! Watch my stuff for me?" The guy at the next table signaled assent. "Follow me."

She led them to a nearby boutique, sporting the same name as the one posted on her table, and unlocked the door.

"Washroom's in the back. Here - " she selected two terry cloth beach towels. "Use those to dry off. I'll hand you in some clothes. I'm afraid there's only room in there for one of you at a time...no, wait - one of you can use the dressing booth. Better hurry, or you'll both have pneumonia."

Only a short time later, Frank and Joe reappeared - Frank in black sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt with a flock of gulls on it that said San Francisco, and Joe in grey sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt that said I stayed at the Rock.

"Very funny." said Joe, looking down at his sweatshirt. "How did you know?"

Dru smiled angelically. "I know nothing, except that you look as though you should. I'm sorry I don't have any dry footwear for you, but we don't sell sneakers. Here, give me yours. I'll crank up the spaceheater and see if we can't get them - and you - a little drier." Frank and Joe pulled chairs in front of the spaceheater and gave mutual sighs of bliss.

"I started some coffee in the break room. It should be ready soon." Dru looked from one to the other. "So. What was all that phony stuff about looking for the owner of a bracelet?"

Joe flushed. "It wasn't phony. I just didn't mention that I knew the owner of the bracelet."

"No, you didn't mention a whole lot of stuff." She looked at Frank. "If you aren't diabetic, what were those guys shooting into you?"

Frank grimaced at the memory. "Wish I knew."

"And why are you taking a dip in the Bay? Especially at this hour of the morning? Not that it's a good idea at any hour."

"We were escaping from Alcatraz." Joe and Frank exchanged sudden grins as they realized how funny that sounded. "Really."

"Uh-huh." Dru watched them shrewdly with her great grey eyes. "Are you guys cops or spies or what?" A whistle from the kettle saved them from answering. Dru jumped up to get it and returned a short time later with two mugs of coffee.

"Hope you don't mind instant."

"You've got to be kidding," Frank accepted his gratefully. "Look, Dru, I know you have a lot of questions, and they deserve answers, but right now..."

Dru rolled her eyes. "You can't, but you'll fill me in later. Where have I heard that before? Oh, yes, I know. From your brother. You guys rehearse that line?" she held up a hand as they opened their mouths to respond. "Never mind. I can wait. It would almost spoil it to know everything before I see how you turn up next. The phone's over there, if you want to call a cab."

"Here. Let me pay you for the things." Frank fumbled distastefully through his wet pockets for his emergency credit card and handed it to her. She took the credit card and gave them each a plastic shopping bag for their wet clothes.

Joe called a cab, reluctantly leaving the cozy circumference of the spaceheater for a second. "He should be here in ten. Dru, we can't thank you enough-"

"Forget it." Dru pulled a baseball cap over Joe's hair, and put a flat golf cap on Frank. "On the house. It'll keep the wind off your wet hair. As for thanks - you can make it up to me with dinner. And dancing. And...well, don't worry. I'm running a tab." She gave Joe a wink and handed Frank the credit card.

As they stepped outside to meet the taxi, Frank gazed at Joe genially.

"Hm. Alissa. Suzy. Dru. Y'know, Joe, I'm glad to see that looking for me didn't interfere with your social life in any way."

Joe grinned and reached over to pat his shoulder. "Hey, no sweat. I mean, I might have missed one or two opportunities, but what the heck. You're my only brother."

TBC