CHAPTER 22

Nancy, forcibly injected into her left arm, drifted in a silent soup of twilight darkness. She didn't know where she floated, barely knew herself. Her grip on reality had utterly slipped. She tried to hold onto something but there wasn't anything there, her hands groping uselessly…if they were her hands she felt about with and not thought tendrils. The feeling of floating nothingness made her sick and disorientated. 'Am I dying? Is this death?'

The woman broke through Nancy's confusion, "I'm not killing you, Nancy, but I need to ask you some questions and what I injected you with will make you compliant and relaxed. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You'll only respond to my voice now, okay Nancy? I'll look after you but you have to do what I say. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Nancy, do you remember being on the Spirit of Oceanus with Frank Hardy?

"Yes."

"Go there Nancy and be with Frank."

Nancy looked at Frank and smiled. 'Fierce', the only description that did his appearance justice tonight. He wore dark, figure hugging jeans, a dark shirt and classic jacket which molded in all the right places and gave him the classic 'V' shape. She smiled as he held her gently by the elbow, and began to guide her through the entrance doors. 'Always the gentleman.' The doorman nodded as they passed him …

"No Nancy, further on. Can you remember how you found the portion of the code?"

"Yes."

"Go to that point in time and tell me about it, okay?"

"Okay."

… "Two still mineral waters please," Nancy asked the bartender.

He turned away, and she, herself, turned her back to the bar and watched the other revellers dance. Nancy wondered if she and Frank would have time for another dance too. As her gaze panned to the left she noticed a painting on the wall. It stood out in comparison to the other artwork - a genuine canvas, as opposed to the other pictures which were murals painted straight onto the walls.

She pushed away from the bar, and approached to take a closer look. The picture a montage of various Greek gods and goddesses, amongst them, the crab clawed deity, Oceanus. She stood back slightly and scanned the picture to look for the code, but she couldn't see anything. Eventually, her eyes dropped to the bottom corner and she finally saw a plaque. The writing said: 'Kindly donated to the club by Professor Hope'

"Is the code there Nancy?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what it is, okay?"

"Okay."

The writing said: 'Kindly donated to the club by Professor Hope' and next to that: A hand slid over the plaque and obscured the numbers as a second palm slipped into her own to grip gently. Her attention diverted, she looked up to see Joe Hardy standing there with his special smile.

"Nan, don't do it," he said. "Don't do what you're being asked."

"I have to." She tried to move his hand away.

He resisted, and instead put his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. "No you don't. Fight this woman, Nan. Use your extraordinary. You know this isn't right. Listen to your instincts. Get a grip!"

Nancy relaxed into him, to take comfort in him and his muscles. Lovely, warm Joe Hardy …

"Nancy, you've gone quiet. I asked you for the code."

"I…I can't see it. It's not there."

"Try again, okay?"

"Okay."

Joe tightened his arms about her shoulders, didn't let the embrace go. "That's good Nan. Don't tell her anything. Stall her, be strong. You know we'll rescue you, we always do. Have faith, have hope."

A man weaved toward them, a lascivious and creepy expression on his face, undressing Nancy with his eyes. Joe sensed his presence and let go with one arm, keeping the other draped across her shoulders protectively. As one, they spun on the man.

"Get lost!" Joe growled. The stranger froze before he could do anything, and tripped to the side.

Frank materialised behind. He strode from the bathroom, shoulders tight, fingers twitching, eyes trained like lasers on the man's back - dangerous, dark eyes forbidding and full of wrath.

"Whoa! Look at him," Joe muttered …

"The code, Nancy."

"I…it's…I don't know, it's not here."

"You're lying to me Nancy—"

-o0o-

All five men wore black, courtesy of Frank's pre-planning. He also conjured up 9mm Glock pistols for them from behind another sliding cabinet - Con's this time. Each wore Kevlar vests and utility belts strung with pouches which housed enough spare bullet magazines to put even the Bayport Police Department to shame.

"What did I create?" Fenton asked Joe. "I remember a kid who used to stay up all night reading books under the covers, now, a transmutation of epic proportions!"

Joe didn't pause from snapping a gun holster around his thigh with his foot up on one of the chairs. After a period of consideration, he finally suggested, "Frickin' James Bond." He put his leg down and jostled the strapping until the belt sat comfortably.

"Bond's an Englishman. Try Jason Bourne. He fits the mold better."

Joe crouched down to tighten the laces on his army issue boots. "You regretting putting Frank in charge?"

"No. Frank's organisation's outstanding. His knowledge of Pandora's greater than ours, and his brain bends instinctively to the new Posse's way of thinking. He's not scared to make tough decisions and fight for them. I wish he'd quit with the self-blame. It's the one thing that could prove his downfall."

"And he's bossy!"

"Really Joe?" Fenton tittered. "I think you're the one with the leadership issues. You'll get your turn."

"He talked about turning the case over to you earlier. Taking a step back."

Fenton stopped. "When did he say that?"

"When I found him on the stairs. He seemed pretty down."

"My fault. I'd been resisting. I'll talk to him. Apologise."

"That's what you were arguing about?"

"You heard, huh?"

"You were loud."

Fenton looked away. "It wasn't a leadership battle. It wasn't even about what we were fighting over. I reacted badly to those pictures. Frank talked about using himself as bait. Took me back to him on the school roof. I'm the one who needs to step back. I floundered, I'm—"

The door burst open. "You ready to go?" Frank asked. His head appeared, almost caught them talking about him.

"In a sec." Fenton flicked a look in Joe's direction and Frank ducked back out.

"You okay Dad?"

Fenton shrugged. "I wish I could unsee those pictures. I don't know how Frank can stand to have seen them. Emily's right, he's much stronger now." He picked up his Glock pistol, pressed the magazine release and dropped the bullet cassette into his palm. "The conversation with Carson, it—" He stopped himself. "No. I shouldn't be talking to you about this, you're my son." He double-checked his gun, made sure it had its full quota of ammo and slapped the bullets back into place. "I'm glad you and James didn't see those pictures." He shoved his gun into its holster, clipped it securely in place and reached for his Kevlar vest. "Great weapon choice."

Joe shrugged his jacket on and stepped forward to help his Dad get the strapping right on his vest. He pulled with such vigor he took his father off his feet, and they both ended up laughing.

Eventually, Fenton picked up his jacket and slipped his arms into it. "Let's go. Nancy needs us. If it's gonna take Jason Bourne or James Bond to get this done, I'm happy for Frank to take on one of those personas."

Joe smiled tightly, "I sometimes pretend I'm Spider-man."

"Great story, Son."

"Says the man whose nickname's 'Flash'."

"Flash Gordon is Con's thing, not mine. I inherited it."

"Whatever, Dad. I've seen your phone's wallpaper."

"Shut up."

Joe sniggered.

They left the room and joined the others at the two vehicles. Joe got into the back seat of the car that had Frank at the wheel and James in the passenger seat. Con took the wheel of the other car with Fenton.

"I hope we don't get pulled over," James said, and looked down at himself. "Can you imagine the explaining we'll have to do? We look like we're about to rob someplace."

"We are, kinda," Joe said. "Have you forgotten, if we get pulled over it'll be by one of your pals? I don't think they're likely to ask too many questions, do you?"

"Remember this is a fact-finding mission only," Frank said. "Unless something amazingly fortuitous happens which means we can snatch Nancy away, she won't return with us." He clutched onto the steering wheel. "I wish I could make it happen though. I hope she's all right."

-o0o-

The five men positioned themselves on high ground looking down on a floodlit office complex. In front of them stood a large, white, office type building, two floors high. At the front were glass doors which spanned about three-quarters of the length of the building, glazed with obscured glass which prevented them from having an inside view. The building had room for parking on all four sides, with a ten-foot high wire fence, topped with razor wire encircling the entire complex. They watched as two gates opened automatically and silently, and a car drove through to leave.

"Frank?" Joe asked, as he watched through binoculars. "Once we're in…if we can even get in…we'll be outmanned and outgunned. This place's in serious lockdown. Look at the amount of patrol guards."

"Let me see." Con held his hand out and Joe passed him the field glasses.

Frank answered Joe, "Don't underestimate the advantage of surprise, Bro. No one expects us to walk in through the front gates."

Con did a double-take, "Through the front gates? You insane?"

"Probably." Frank grinned wolfishly. "It's a wire fence. A good pair of cutters will get us through, but I hope we won't need to because I want us to walk through the front door. It'll send a strong message." Frank looked about. "Who's got the binoculars?" Con handed them over and Frank pressed them to his eyes. He dropped down onto his haunches.

Fenton followed him. "It's one thing getting us into the compound, but what about the cameras, the security alarms, and even worse, the guards?"

"There's always a way."

"What are you seeing we're not?" James asked.

"I can see one thing." He pointed toward the front entrance, "Does anyone see the butt end of a vehicle jutting out the side of the building? Does it look like an ambulance?" He held up the field glasses and they were taken from his hands.

"I think you're right," Joe said. "The window's busted in. I guess it's our ambulance." He passed the binoculars to Con.

"Hmm." Frank stood, shrugged his backpack off, and dropped it onto the ground. He began to pull out notebooks and another couple of pairs of binoculars and handed them around. "Can everyone make notes on what you can see? Jot down the locations of cameras, spotlights - in fact any lights. Mark down areas in shadow because it will be potentially useful. Write down car plate numbers for Ezra later, and count the vehicles, it'll give us a rough estimate of the number of people here."

"I can't see to write," James observed. "It's dark."

"The sun going down will do that." Frank said dryly. He took James' pen off him.

"Very funny."

Frank clicked on the side of the pen and a tiny light came on. "Should be enough light to see to write, but not enough to raise the guards' attentions."

"Nifty!"

They all played with their pens and got the same result.

Frank slapped James' shoulder and turned his attention to them all. "I'll analyse the security detail to see if they follow a routine and eke out weaknesses. Don't turn your flashlights on, we don't want attention drawn to ourselves and don't get too close to the building." Frank looked at Joe. "Put your hat on, bro, you glow like a candle with your hair."

"Bossy!"

Frank's face dropped and Fenton swatted Joe's arm. "Meet back here in an hour. Don't go off on your own. Be careful - don't trip over your own feet."

"Us be careful? What about you?" James asked. "We can't leave you on your own."

"No harm will come to me while they think I've got the code. The only person who realistically wants to hurt me is the psychopath, and they won't let him damage me yet."

"But—" Joe started.

"Get gone." Frank said firmly and turned away. "Do it for Nancy."

After a short pause, the four men reluctantly split up and headed in different directions, Joe and Fenton went one way, James and Con the other.

Frank looked around, found a relatively flat piece of ground, and dropped his backpack down. He took the binoculars, sat down on top of the bag so he wouldn't get his rump wet in the grass, and opened up his notebook.

He lifted up the field glasses, panned between the building and grounds, and then scribbled notes on his paper. He particularly watched the guards, who had a big presence in the compound - darkly dressed, powerful men who traversed the grounds and outer fence at regular intervals. Frank decided to time them and see if he could find a pattern at work. He retrieved a florescent stopwatch from his top pocket, crossed his legs, leaned his pad on this lap and became engrossed in his work.

Ten minutes later he observed a small car pull up outside the gates. A young guy emerged from the driver's seat, waved a hand to one of the guards and moved to the rear of his car to open the door. The guard strode across.

Frank quickly lifted the binoculars and observed the interaction of the two men. After a few minutes Frank grinned. Perhaps the guard problem won't be as difficult to take care of as feared! Frank dropped down the glasses and returned to clicking his stopwatch and making notes.

After a while he realized he'd lost track of time so he glanced at his watch and saw fifty minutes had passed. He returned to his writing, but mid-stroke his hand froze. He wasn't sure why, but became overcome with a feeling of being observed, exactly the same way he watched the building and its people milling about.

He continued to write, but also looked at more than the grounds. He began to glance about, but couldn't see anything out of place, so listened intently instead. He couldn't detect any movement in the undergrowth. Then he definitely heard a noise right behind him which had him, with lightning speed, onto his feet and spinning. He struck out with the heel of his hand, straight into the thigh muscle of whoever stood at his shoulder. The man toppled onto his back with a gasp, and Frank sprang up in a defensive martial arts posture, fists ready. Adrenaline surged.