CHAPTER 15
Three Days Previously
Nancy wandered among the catalogued auction pieces on display throughout the viewing area and gallery. Each item bore an allocation number, which denoted its position in the auction catalogue, and ultimately the order in which it would be sold in a week's time.
Several people milled casually about - picking up items, checking maker's marks, and peering through magnifying glasses or eye pieces. Everyone whispered to each other, not wanting to give away potentially secret finds.
Nancy wasn't interested in anyone other than one man. This particular gentleman had, suspiciously, been at every auction where items had been replaced with forgeries. Although not personally having attended all the auctions, she'd spotted him on video surveillance footage.
He drew attention to himself as a matter of course, due to his choice of attire. He dressed in fluorescent colored pants (often yellows and greens), tweed jackets, formal shirts, bright vests and bowties in a variety of gaudy hues. On his feet…a pair of red boots, which made Nancy want to ask if he was off to see the Wizard. On his lip lived a carefully waxed, swirly moustache. Perched on the end his nose were half glasses on a chain, which were also clashingly garish.
The only problem - where he lacked the ability to blend in, he more than made up for by not being caught doing anything wrong!
Nancy watched him as he loitered at the jewellery section. He raised his hand at the Auctioneer's Assistant and asked to be shown a variety of items. Eventually, he settled his full attention on a diamond tennis bracelet.
Nancy waited until he concentrated fully on the sparkly chain, then positioned herself on the other side of the jewellery display cases. She smiled at the Auctioneer's Assistant and asked to view a delicate garnet necklace. She borrowed a magnifying glass and proceeded to 'inspect' the jewel carefully, while pinning one eye on her suspect.
He did something odd and drew her attention - something with his magnifying eye glass. She watched as he pushed it to his eye, leaned over, but then used his free hand to spin it. An odd manuever, and one she hadn't seen anyone else do. Curiosity overtook.
Nancy returned the garnet necklace and meandered around to the other side of the display cases while pretending to look at items through the glass topped cabinets. Eventually, she reached his shoulder, and quickly stole a look. His game play became clear, very quickly - in his fingers wasn't a magnifying eye piece, but a tiny spy camera. He snapped pictures of the bracelet from every angle. "You sneaky devil!" she thought. His trick - to snap photos of the items, return home, produce fakes, then perform the ol' switcheroo on auction day!
"Can I help you with anything?" the Auctioneer's Assistant asked her.
He looked over his shoulder and caught Nancy spying.
Nancy smiled brightly at him. "I want to take a look at the piece you're viewing. You were concentrating so hard I didn't want to disturb." Though she smiled pleasantly, inside she thought, 'Aw no!'
He turned fully and showed her the bracelet. "Isn't it exquisite?"
"It's beautiful. May I?" She held her hand out and he draped the bracelet over her wrist and locked it in place. He retained a light hold on her hand and rotated her wrist. The movement caused the diamonds to reflect brightly, and all the colors of the spectrum to radiate out from deep within each, brilliant stone. Genuinely dazzled by the sight of it, Nancy felt a little intimidated.
He spoke to her in a low, soft tone. "Look at the diamonds. They're of the highest quality and cut with hardly any inclusions…imperfections. The stones are incredibly clear, the cut so exact the light's striking each facet at the ideal angle, throwing out the maximum refraction possible. This is the work of an artist, someone at the top of their profession. People always think carat size's king, but my advice's to always look for clarity and cut, not size. You suit diamonds. It looks truly stunning on your wrist. You should be with a chap who will buy you diamonds."
"I wish." Nancy wrinkled her nose. "Perhaps one day I'll be able to afford something so striking." She looked at him, and he regarded her thoughtfully.
"Have we met?"
"I don't think so. Would you help me take it off? I think it's too flashy for me. I'm looking for something simpler." She glanced up at one of the grandfather clocks. "Goodness! Look at the time. I have to meet my husband. Thank you for showing me the bracelet, and for sharing your expertise - not everyone's as open."
"You're welcome. Tell him to buy you diamonds!" he said sincerely, and unclipped the chain. He turned away and continued to inspect it with his eye glass/camera.
Nancy retreated and made her way to the front of the show room. She liked the man, despite his crookedness. Although she'd worked out how he'd swapped the items for forgeries, she needed to get absolute proof. She would follow him to his base and catch him in the act. Unfortunately, he now knew what she looked like, so she needed to be clever with the time left.
She quickly headed for the front desk to speak to Bernadette, who she'd spotted on rotation. Luckily, there were no clients at the reception desk, only Bernadette with her head bent over some paperwork. "Hey Bernie," Nancy said, and pulled the receptionist's attention from the papers. "You know the guy with the clown clothes?"
"The one with the yellow pants and moustache?"
"Do you know who he is?"
"Why?"
"I think he's our man, so I mean to follow him."
"Really? He seems so charming."
"He is. He's lovely. Doesn't mean he's not a naughty boy."
Bernadette laughed and swung her chair to the computer and tapped. "You're in luck. He registered this morning so I have his contact details. Do you want a print out?"
"Spin the screen and let me see it. I've got a photographic memory so I only have to read it. He's about to leave, so I'm in a rush."
"An eidetic memory? Useful in your line of work." Bernadette showed Nancy the screen.
Nancy stilled and scanned the contents through quickly. "Albert Keane from…cool! He's from Bayport. It'll make my job easier. I have friends in Bayport who can follow up on it. Gotta go, but I'll be back later."
"Don't forget to pick up your fee, I'll have it ready for you."
"I will. See you later."
Bernadette's attention returned to her task.
Nancy left and entered the restroom to the side of the exit doors. She moved into one of the stalls, quickly took her jacket off and turned it inside out. She thanked her lucky stars she'd chosen to wear her reversible coat, as it afforded her a quick image change. It provided her with the means to trail her suspect without him, hopefully, sussing she's the girl to whom he'd clipped thousands of dollars worth of diamonds.
She next pulled her jeans free of her knee-high boots and smoothed them over the outside. She grabbed a hair band from her bag, top knotted her strawberry blonde hair, and used her floaty scarf to cover the knot. She put her coat on, fished her reading glasses from her bag, and popped them on. When she came out of the stall and looked at herself, she had to admit, for a quick disguise, she'd done a bang-up job.
Nancy exited the restroom with the hope she'd not missed Mr Keane. She pulled her bag up onto her shoulder and walked by the reception desk to find him. As she drew level, she picked up something in her peripheral vision. It made her go cold and her heart to speed up. Something deep-down and animalistic told her to be very…very… careful. She moved her head slightly to see what had caused her raw reaction.
A man and woman were talking to Bernadette. The man held his arm out, offering something, which Bernie took. She looked down at it, back up at him and then retreated away into the office. Inexplicably, she then locked herself in and ran to the phone.
The woman moved, said something to the man, and they turned.
For the moment Nancy froze in the middle of the viewing area unable to move, eyes levelled on the man. He bore a face she knew, and one that made her wish she didn't have an eidetic memory so she could forget him. This man had kidnapped her from the Bayport Library. He'd thrown the undercover Network Agent off the cliff in front of her for saving Joe's life…and then laughed. He'd tormented her with threats of violence, death... and worse. He'd delighted in describing in graphic detail what would happen to Frank Hardy once they captured him. Arthur Gray had sworn The Network had locked this man up, the damn LIAR!
'How? How can he be here? HOW!'
Albert Keane walked by Nancy's field of vision, but she barely noticed him, all thoughts of tailing him gone.
If they were to notice her, Nancy's knew her face would have told a thousand stories, and none of them good. So she dropped her gaze quickly, and turned away as casually as she could. She turned and headed for the exit doors, aware the couple were now walking up behind her, getting closer. She bit her lip and swallowed down a whimper, her back crawling like there were a thousand bugs running up and down her spine. It took every, single morsel of willpower not to run for her life. The couple were now so close she could hear their conversation.
"I told you the badge wouldn't fool anyone" The woman said, angrily.
"We'll find her."
"I'll instruct them to continue staking the place out and snatch her when she returns. We're still monitoring her home and phone, we'll catch her; it's only a matter of time."
They walked either side of Nancy and passed by without glancing her way.
The Red-Headed Man said, "I want Frank Hardy."
"You underestimated Hardy before, don't do it again. Stop letting thoughts of revenge color your view. Do I need to remind you Nancy Drew's the one who destroyed Pandora and not Hardy? She knows what he knows, she's the one with the eidetic memory, we need her! We'll be spreading our chances of success by—"
They were through the door and out the other side, so Nancy couldn't hear them anymore. By the time Nancy emerged through the gold doors, the couple had quickened their pace and put a good distance between her and them.
Nancy turned in the opposite direction, slipped her hand into her pocket, and extracted her cell phone. As she passed a trash bin, she reached out and dropped her cell into it without breaking stride. She looked back to see the couple way off into the distance. The two security guards from the auction house were watching them. She picked up speed and began to run, eventually going at a full pelt in the opposite direction. Her headscarf came away, lost in her panic to get away.
-o0o-
Fenton spoke to Doctor Cox about Frank. "If someone has been in his head before you, and has implanted false memories, it would sure explain a lot." His face darkened, "There's something else. Frank and Nancy went their separate ways our months ago with no warning. They were happy one day and literally overnight, Nancy packed her bags and travelled home."
Doctor Cox frowned. "Why? They were bonded tightly and consensually reliant on one another."
"Said they couldn't make a long-distance relationship work. Never an issue before. It suited them. Now he can't recall her phone number and refers to her as 'Nancy Drew' as though she's someone he once knew - an acquaintance. We've attempted to tackle him on it, but he shuts us down. Sometimes, it's aggressive. Nancy's father says she's acting out of character too."
Emily wrinkled her nose suspiciously and turned thoughtfully to Frank. "I hoped to avoid exploring personal issues as he's so anxious. Do you mind if I try something bolder?"
"Is it the dance from Saturday Night Fever?
"Erm…no."
"Then go for it."
She leaned and held onto Frank's hands. "Frank, we're going to move you on to when you and Nancy had your first conversation about your relationship not working."
"Okay."
"Frank. Where are you?"
"I'm at home."
"Where's 'home'?"
"My apartment."
"Is Nancy there?"
"Yes she's here."
"Is anyone else with you?"
Still sat, his head came slowly up. He drew himself rigid and leaned forward. His eyelids opened, and he stared unblinkingly back at Emily from about an inch away, his eyes dead, dark and intense. His reaction threw her, but she held his gaze and tried to read him. Her eyes shifted from one brown orb to the other.
Fenton leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
She let go of Frank. "What is it?" she asked, not breaking her stare.
"That's the exact look he gave Vanessa across the table last night when she tried to talk to him about Nancy. Gave her a scare. He had a kind of controlled melt down. Sorry, I'm being contradictory. How can anyone have a controlled meltdown?"
She chortled. "Knowing Frank as I do, it's probably a fair description." She returned her hand to Frank. "You all right?"
"Yes."
Emily drew back and shared a frown with Fenton. Frank's voice had gone deeper and his vocal pattern clipped, precise and quickened, not in any way like his previous voice.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine."
She let go. "Fenton, I'm going to ask Frank a strange question, but there's a good reason. Don't be alarmed by it." She returned to Frank and for an instant she looked worried, but fascinated, all at the same time. "Am I speaking to Frank Hardy?"
"Yes."
Emily let go and sighed. "I'm almost disappointed, nearly had a landmark case on my hands then! If he'd said 'no' we could have had a real problem on our hands."
"I thought you said not to be alarmed?"
"Even psychiatrists lie," she said with a half smile. "But seriously, we're not out of the woods yet." She returned to Frank. "Are you and Nancy alone?"
"No."
She glanced at Fenton. "How many other people are with you, Frank?"
"Four."
"Men, women, or both?"
"Men."
"Is Nancy in the room with you?"
"No."
"Where is she?"
"The bathroom."
"On her own?"
"No."
"Who's she with, Frank?"
"A woman."
"Why's Nancy in the bathroom?"
"Getting ready."
"To go out?"
"Yes."
"Where are you going?"
"A club."
"What for?"
"To celebrate."
"Celebrate what, Frank?"
"James moving in with the Benders."
"I remember that night," Fenton said. "I surprised them by being there."
Doctor Cox put her finger to her lips to silence him. "Frank, do you know who these men are who are in your apartment?"
"One."
"Who?"
"Can't say."
"Why not?"
"It's an order."
"Don't do what this man's telling you, Frank, tell me who he is."
"No."
"Is he giving you instructions right now?"
"Yes."
"What's he saying?"
"It's none of your business!" Frank dropped his chin further and glared at her.
She rubbed her chin for a while flummoxed. Eventually she said, "Frank, is this man a physical person, or someone you've made up in your head?"
"He exists."
"Does he work at your detective agency?"
"No."
"Tell me his name."
"No."
"Get up and leave the room."
"NO!"
"Wait a moment, Frank." Emily released his hands and turned to Fenton. "He's obstinate and my questions are annoying him. These one and two word answers are exhausting. I see exactly what you mean about his aggression levels and controlled meltdowns." She switched to Frank and reached to put her palm on him, but then paused in thought, and turned back to Fenton. "Remember the time when Frank slept and I told you to force him to react to you?"
"Of course. I felt like a bullying shit."
"I need you to do it again, but I want you to order Frank to tell you the name of this man. Whoever this is, he wields a strong influence. It needs someone who's an authority figure to Frank to stand up to him. That's not me. This man has been manipulating Frank and Nancy, and I strongly believe it's where the aggression stems from. If you can break through the mental wall, it might reawaken the memories. I don't like to ask, as it goes against everything I'd usually do, but I'm stumped at this juncture."
"Let me at him." Fenton said.
Emily took Frank's hands. "Frank, listen carefully. Your Dad will be speaking to you now, and I want you to answer him and do what he says. It's important you do what he asks, do you understand?"
"Yes."
She let go of Frank, got up out of the chair and indicated for Fenton to sit down in her place. He sat down and regarded his son for a couple of seconds. "Should I hold his hands?"
"Please, he won't hear you otherwise and it makes for a stronger connection."
Fenton reached and latched on. "Erm, wow this is weird. Frank?"
"Yes."
"The man. Is he still telling you not to say anything?"
"Yes."
"Tell him to take a hike and tell me who he is."
"No."
"Come on Frank, who is he?"
"I don't have to tell you anything!"
"Frank, tell me who I am."
"Fenton Hardy."
"True but more specifically who am I to you, Son?"
"My Dad."
Fenton's voice rose and adopted his 'Dad' tone. "Too damn right I am. And Dad trumps some coward sitting in your living room telling you, and Nancy, how to live your lives. Tell me who this man IS!"
"NO!"
