Boosting - Chapter 28

Joe drew his hire car onto the Drew's driveway, Frank in the passenger seat.

The journey had gone without a hitch with Jack Wayne getting them into the air within ten minutes of them being strapped in. He'd even persuaded Frank to co-pilot, even though Frank had gazed doubtfully at the controls.

Joe had smiled, watching Frank eventually thoroughly enjoying himself having been allowed to take control and fly them most of the way. Jack wasn't a stupid man; he'd sensed immediately that it wasn't only Frank's body that had taken a battering, but also his confidence. He was doing his bit to help and at one point even looked back over his shoulder at Joe and winked.

As soon as they were stepping from the car, a red-headed woman came out with her arms outstretched. "You're finally here – I was only expecting one of you. What a lovely surprise!" And she was wrapping them in a warm communal hug and giving pecks to the cheeks.

"Hello Hannah, this is Joe…my brother." Frank said proudly and hung an arm loosely about Joe's shoulders.

"Of course he is." She turned her green eyes onto Joe. "And what a handsome boy you are, almost as handsome as your brother. But then I'm biased as he holds our precious Nancy's heart!"

Joe laughed at Frank's reddening face. "And he's holding on tightly!"

"What a lucky woman I've been this week, three strapping young men in my home? I've been spoiled rotten." Hannah stared at Frank. "You look better."

"I wish!" Frank's eyes dropped as he toyed with his walking stick. "Knees butchered and I've lost so much weight. I'm fraying away at the seams."

She slipped her arm about Frank's waist and turned to Joe. "You look a strong boy. Would you do a job for me? There's a pile of document boxes at the bottom of the stairs that need to go into Carson's office. I keep tripping over them, but they're too heavy for me. Would you mind taking them up?"

"I'm on it," Joe said and entered the house. He heard Hannah say for Frank to accompany her to the kitchen as she was making them a hot chocolate.

Hannah hadn't exaggerated, those boxes took quite some manoeuvring to get them up the stairs, but Joe was soon done and seeking Hannah and Frank out. He found the kitchen and walked in on his brother leaning up against the counter in close conversation with Hannah. In one hand were her spectacles, which she held just in front of her face while the fingers of her other hand traced Frank's scars. He was nodding and smiling slightly, and then she muttered something that really made him laugh out loud!

Joe cocked a brow, it seemed Hannah was giving a pep talk, and it was working. "Did I hear someone say something about hot chocolate?"

"You did," Hannah said, dropping her glasses self-consciously and passed a steaming mug across. "Now, Joe, your father has left some instructions—"

"—'left'?"

"Yes, he headed out just after you called. He didn't want to waste the whole day and was going to have a look around—."

"—'A look around'?"

"Yes, around the haulage companies—"

"—'Haulage companies'?"

"Joe Hardy, are you going to simply repeat back everything I'm saying?" Hannah asked. "Fenton was of the opinion that he'd spent quite enough time in bed with his head injury—"

"—head injury?" both brother's asked simultaneously.

"Hannah…we don't know what you're talking about!" Frank said.

"—'Don't know what I'm talking about'?" Hannah nudged Joe. "Now I'm doing it!" she laughed. "Hard to believe no one told you – Carson came home unexpectantly a couple of nights ago and came across Fenton in the house and hit him on the head. It made your father a little wobbly for a while."

They both stared back aghast.

"Don't look so worried boys, he's fine. Was given a clean bill of health."

"So he's gone without waiting for me?" Joe asked.

Hannah nodded.

"He did take someone with him though? Mr Drew perhaps?"

"No, Carson had to return to work this morning."

Joe rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and made a throaty noise.

"You did tell dad how badly hurt Con was, didn't you, Bro?" Frank asked. "You made him understand?"

"Yeah, I told him to wait." Joe sighed, "but you know dad, he's probably stressing over that Bobbie chick and has gone off half-cocked."

"I wonder who else is often guilty of that?" Frank muttered teasingly.

Joe returned a clowning, withered look. "Takes one to know one."

Hannah cut in. "Fenton did say he was worried about Bobbie – without the 'chick' part. Said he didn't want to waste time."

Frank extracted his phone and dialled his father's number. After a few seconds he cast a troubled look. "No answer – voice mail is kicking in...Dad, it's Frank, why is your phone turned off? Call me, urgently, yeah? Let me know you're okay. We're in River Heights." He hung up. "Where did he go, Hannah?"

*****

Nancy carefully opened the hospital room door and looked in to find James still by Con's bed, reading that gossip magazine and shaking his head at its shallow contents. He looked up and motioned with it for her to enter.

Con was asleep, snoring gently.

"Where did you go, Nancy? Con was asking after you."

"Went back to work. I thought I'd leave you to get caught up. It's not often a long-lost relative suddenly pops up into your life." She grinned. "Got any more little surprises hidden up your sleeve, James? That was a bit of a shocker!"

James laughed. "Not as much of a shock as it was for Con. I should have had the balls to tell him before, but then when I made my mind up to come clean, he went and joined the Hardy crew. I'm such a wimp, I couldn't do it!"

"How are you going to tell everyone else?"

He threw his hands up. "I dunno. I'm doomed! The boys at the precinct will never let me live it down. I'll have to resign!"

Nancy stood over Con. The bruising to his face and arms was starting to develop into an array of bright colors.

"He's really stiffened up too," James confirmed. "Sore."

Nancy wrinkled her nose in sympathy. "I'm jinxed, every man I work with ends up looking like this, and always because they're either being chivalrous or protective, helping me. And they wonder why I prefer to work alone. At least that way I'm only putting one person at risk, not obligating anyone else."

"It's nothing to do with you Nancy. Con knows the risks as much as the rest of us. It was just his turn. It was coincidence that you were working with him and blind bad luck it happened on his first case with Mr Hardy. In fact, you weren't there, it was me. I should have been vigilant, should have noticed he was being trailed. After all, I'd become such an expert at it myself."

"That's crazy talk. If Con didn't notice he was being followed, with all his years of experience, you weren't going to." Nancy looked James up and down. "You do realise the hole you've stepped into, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've unintentionally expanded your family. Con is an honorary member of the Hardy household and has been Fenton's best friend for so long that I bet Frank and Joe don't remember him not being around. From what I've seen, he might as well be their uncle too."

"They'd be an improvement on my own family," he admitted.

"In fact," Nancy said, moving closer and dropping her volume, "Frank told me that his mom and Con dated in college, before her and Fenton. That's how all three of them eventually met."

Surprised eyebrows shot up and fresh eyes slid towards Con's still form. "Obviously there's a lot of stuff I don't know about my Uncle Con!" James muttered. "Skeleton's rattling in his closets...I could tell you stories about Con Riley that would make your head spin," he said conspiratorially.

"While we're on the subject of Con history, you might be able to confirm something." Nancy unhooked his notes and turned them towards James. She pointed to the top of the paperwork. "Is that a misprint?"

He leaned to see what Nancy's finger was tapping against. "Uh…no it isn't. I dread to think what you're goin' to do with that piece of insider knowledge!"

"Nothing at the moment, but it's stored up here." She pointed at her head. "Don't tell him I know – but what were his parents thinking by naming him Constantine?"

"My grandparents were heavily into the Romans, but that's not the worse of it; My dad got lumbered with Claudius. At least Con's able to shorten his."

"Constantine and Claudius? Con and Claud?" Nancy's face slowly broke out into a brutal smile.

"You're a cruel woman."

"Con's every bit a wind-up merchant, so any bit of weaponry is useful."

"You're a cruel woman," James repeated and leaned back. "I won't let on that you know," he promised.

"Thanks." She returned the notes to its hook. "It's a shame Emperor Constantine's asleep, because I've received some news about the case that's blown it wide open. The DMV has figured out how the stolen convertible's documents seemed so authentic…it's because they were authentic."

Anderson frowned. "How can that be right?"

"A member of the gang has been working within the DMV, in data-processing and this person was the brains behind the entire operation. They would wait until a car was written off – either through an accident, or, as in the case of the vintage cars, through age, and then the gang would be instructed on the type and make of car to go after – even providing addresses of victims. When the vehicle was procured, all the car's info was transferred onto the data-log and given a new identity. The only things that then had to be changed physically were the cars' plate numbers and maybe the color – in the convertible's case, it was re-sprayed racing green."

"So, technically, Frank's car is now registered as two entirely legal cars?"

"Precisely! Everything appears above board and legal. Cheap operation too, no need for complicated mechanical alterations. They must have made literally hundreds of thousands of dollars - profit all the way!"

"Genius!"

"Yep, and hard to pin down – at least until the DMV had the documents for the Ford Fairlane as well. They were able to identify the operator responsible and she was arrested this afternoon."

"She?"

"Don't start!"

Anderson laughed, chastened. "Is she talking?"

"That's the bad news, no. But the DMV is confident it can backtrack on all the stolen cars by reviewing the woman's PC log over the time the cars were taken. They will drill down on the cars' chassis numbers to find any double entries. There's going to be a lot of relieved car owners, but disappointed buyers."

"What about the rest of the gang, and Bobbie Shandley?"

"No news, although the woman's husband has fled and believe it or not they lived in River Heights, my hometown and where Fenton is at the moment. I just spoke to Frank and they believe Fenton has a solid lead on Bobbie's whereabouts." She stopped and chewed her lip. "Apparently, it was so rock-solid that he went off alone to investigate and they can't raise him by phone."

Anderson grimaced and looked towards his uncle's battered sleeping body.

"Yes I know," Nancy said, reading his mind. "Worrying, much?"

*****

While Frank was somewhere between Bayport and River Heights, flying Joe and Jack Wayne, Fenton was in his car opposite a small and ordinary looking office building, his car largely obscured between two huge export containers and eating a, quite frankly, outstanding sandwich that Hannah had rustled up before he'd left the Drew's residence.

Fenton was bored, his mind drifting back to just before he'd left Carson's home…

After speaking to Joe, Fenton raised concerned eyes to Hannah Gruen. "My partner's in the hospital, he was attacked at home."

"Oh dear!"

"Nancy believes the attack's connected to the case. Con had procured one of the stolen vehicles and whoever assaulted him may have been trying to get it back. If that's the case, they now know that he was investigating them."

"Is the poor man all right?"

Fenton started plucking his eyebrow, a faraway look on his face. "Banged up enough to need a stay in hospital. Hasn't regained consciousness yet."

"Then it's good Joe is coming to help. You don't want to go out there alone."

"Yes…No! Actually, all the more reason to get out there—" Hannah opened her mouth to protest, but Fenton dropped his hand to hover a silencing palm. "—If the gang believe we're closing in on them, and I hold back, they might move Bobbie and then we'll have a hell of job finding her. I need to go now."

"I think you should wait. I'm frightened for you."

"I can't afford to. I need to prevent them from using Bobbie for collateral damage or worse." Fenton went into the hall and lifted his jacket down. "I'm not going to do anything rash. I'm just going to do some surveillance while Joe's on his way. When he gets here, send him after me."

Hannah gently took his arm. "At least take some sandwiches. It'll take me seconds to make them."…

There was movement from within the office building. Two men came out and began a conversation while stacking up boxes. Fenton put down his half eaten sandwich and slapped half of his listening device onto the top of the car through the window, the magnetic strip on the back of the amplifier ensuring it would stay put. He pushed the receiver to his ear and settled back with his arms folded to eavesdrop.

Apparently a truck was on its way to pick up the boxes and the men were planning on how to load them and were talking about timescales. Given it seemed such an uninspiring chat, Fenton picked up his sandwich and carried on eating and thinking…

Upon arriving at the area that Bobbie's map suggested was the heart of the operation, his heart sank. It was a huge. Just how he was going to narrow down the search for the missing teen was mind blowing. All he could do at this point was drive up and down, keep his wits about him, trust his intuition.

He began passing literally hundreds and hundreds of export containers, all piled one on top another into high blocks, creating a mini skyscraper city with its own road system. The metal containers were of the type that creative, new age people have decided are big enough to bolt together and mould into weird little dwellings. Fenton considered that a little too much like camping. He valued the comfort and familiarity of bricks, mortar and wood, surrounding and pillowing him and his family than cold, impersonal corrugated steel.

He had a thought…export containers? Now what could you hide in one of those? They were big enough to store two cars at a time; maybe even three, and no one would have a clue that they were there. So Fenton started driving even slower with his window down and his head out watching the ground moving beneath.

He passed many more containers and dumpsters before he hit 'pay dirt' and came across some car tire markings etched deeply into recently dried mud – in fact, if it wasn't for the fact there'd been obviously four wheels, he would have assumed they were left by a motorcycle as the ruts were so narrow.

Encouraged, he exited and proceeded on foot, following the tracks until they stopped outside one of those massive crates. The marks implied that the vehicle had been turned, straightened up, and then driven inside. Fenton stepped close and found the doors were padlocked – not that a lock was ever going to stop Fenton Hardy from being nosy...this was the man who'd taught his kids all that they knew. He made their knowledge of lock picking look amateurish by comparison!

Fenton fetched his equipment from his car and went to work on the lock. It gave up quickly and came open in his hand. He pulled the double doors wide…and inside? What could only be described as the most beautiful yellow car he'd ever laid eyes on and one that was clearly so old it was probably drawing a pension!