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 originally co-written with another person, who is not currently available to ask for permission to post it. Therefore it is being posted under one author name. Also, it was written in the late 1990s, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.
September Song
By EvergreenDreamweaver
Chapter 14
Somehow the day dragged itself on. Frank was absolutely certain he had never seen the clocks move so slowly. After Joe left for school, he had thrown himself into reading Henry IV, but the words might as well have been so much Polish or Vietnamese, for all the understanding he gained. He glanced at his wristwatch every couple of minutes, willing time to speed up, aching for the evening hours to come. He had rarely felt so helpless.
Plays of William Shakespeare, in all likelihood, saved Frank's sanity that afternoon. He was forced to go to the college campus for his class; forced to sit and pay attention to the lecture; forced to think of something other than Megan Wright and the terrible scenarios provided by an overactive imagination. He concentrated fiercely on the professor's words, took notes with careful precision, conscientiously underlined and highlighted phrases.
But when the buzzer sounded, and he recalled that he and Megan had agreed to meet for lunch following his Shakespeare class, Frank felt as if someone was twisting his stomach into knots. He walked slowly to the student center, knowing he needed something to eat – but the only thing he could manage to choke down was half a Coke. He sat alone at one of the outside tables, taking an occasional sip and watching the ebb and flow of the other students around him. Eventually he simply gave up and went home.
##########
At four o'clock Tony Prito arrived at the Hardys' home, and soon afterwards, Joe pulled into the driveway. He was talking on his cell phone as he walked into the kitchen, where Tony and Frank were sitting.
"…I don't think it's a good idea for you to be sticking so close to him. Hasn't the man got eyes? You'd think he'd notice you've been hanging around him like he's Albert Schweitzer, or something." Joe glanced at his brother and mouthed Vanessa. Frank nodded. He had figured as much. "Okay, okay, I know…just keep me posted, all right? Stay in touch. I get antsy when I don't hear from you… All right. Bye."
"She's still keeping tabs on Gerald Waring, I take it?" Frank inquired.
"Yup." Joe flopped down on a chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "She says there's always a chance that he'll go see Crowley – or Megan – today."
Frank hadn't thought of that possibility – that Waring might lead them to Megan. He suddenly didn't feel nearly so concerned about Vanessa's insistence on watching the doctor; she might be of vital importance.
"Let's see just how much we can make Tony look like you," Joe was saying now. He got up and beckoned the other two boys toward the stairs. "Tony, you're not as tall as Frank, but if we don't stand together, it shouldn't be too noticeable. And maybe no one knows us well enough for it to make any difference."
They decided Tony's jeans, shirt and athletic shoes were perfectly acceptable; he and Frank were both dressed in the usual "college casual" attire. Frank provided a leather jacket that he often wore. Tony carefully combed his dark hair into a style similar to Frank's, and the boys were amazed at how it changed his appearance.
"Still…" Joe tilted his head to one side and studied his friend carefully. "Wearing a baseball cap is probably a good idea. It'll shield your features, in case anyone's watching us arrive. And I'd bet quite a lot that someone will be watching."
Tony pulled the cap on, tugging the bill down over his eyes. Then he pulled Frank to stand beside him, facing the mirror over Frank's dresser. "Well? Will I do?"
They stared at their reflections. Other than the height discrepancy, and the fact that Tony's skin was a slightly darker shade, they looked amazingly alike. In a parking lot, at a distance – even with the bright floodlights to lift the darkness – he could easily pass as Frank.
"Good enough," Frank approved.
Tony heaved a sigh of relief and took off the jacket and cap. "Too hot, right now," he observed. "Okay, I understand I'm passing myself off as you. But where are you going to be while I'm standing out there in the parking lot, possibly letting myself get shot at or something?"
Frank smiled grimly and took something out of his pocket. "See this?" He held up a key. "Mrs. Wright gave it to me. It's Megan's key to the office building at Crowley Manufacturing. While you and Joe are carefully presenting yourselves and that tape to Crowley in front, I will have gone in the back entrance of the building. And I'm going to find Megan and get her out."
"But I thought the whole idea was to make an exchange?" Tony looked baffled. "You don't think they'll give her up, once they have the tape?"
"No, I don't," Frank replied. "I don't think Crowley has any intention of letting her go; she knows too much. You and Joe are the distraction I have to have, to give me time to find her."
"The computer security codes shouldn't be in effect, since people will be in the building," Joe commented. "That's extremely lucky. We couldn't have managed those."
"What if she's guarded, Frank?" Tony knew he was asking obvious questions, but he felt it served to keep Frank's mind occupied. And who knew, it might be important.
"It's a risk I have to take," the elder Hardy replied. "The hardest part will be finding out where she is."
A soft tap on the door announced Mrs. Hardy's presence. "Boys, there are hamburgers on the kitchen table; no reason for you to go into this without anything to eat. Frank—" and she looked sternly at her son, "that means I expect you to eat something too. I am going over to the Wrights' in a few minutes. Megan's mother and Andrea Bender and I are going to be at that parking lot tonight too."
"Mom – you?" Joe blurted. Then he turned red. "Uh – I didn't mean—"
"Mrs. Wright has every right to be there, Joe. And she needs someone with her. Andrea and I decided we were the most logical ones. Did you have an objection to that?"
"No, Mom, no." Joe shook his head vigorously. "It's great of you to be there for Mrs. Wright."
Laura gave him a warm smile, but all she said was "Better go eat."
The three boys went downstairs to the kitchen. Laura made sure they had everything they needed, then departed. Joe and Tony dug into the food with ravenous appetites; Frank managed a few bites of his hamburger and a couple of French fries, and had to admit it did make him feel a little better.
Five-thirty, now, still too light outside to make any attempt at getting into the Crowley office building. Frank went back upstairs, leaving Joe and Tony engrossed in a video game, and changed into black jeans and a dark shirt, then added a dark blue denim jacket. He recalled there were trees and shrubbery behind the building; any chance of concealment would be welcome. He suddenly wished a large, noisy rainstorm would blow up – perhaps some thunder and lightning – creating lots of noise and commotion. However, a glance outside showed him that such a storm was unlikely.
Frank carefully filled his pockets with every conceivable item he could think of, that could help him in his endeavor: lock picks…tiny flashlight…his cell phone…Swiss army knife…some lengths of lightweight cord…handkerchief. Finally satisfied he was as well prepared as possible, he went back downstairs.
"I can't wait any longer. I'm going to go over there now, and try to get in."
Joe looked up from the screen, his fingers pausing on the game controls. "Now? But it's not even six o'clock yet!"
"I know, but I think I'll need time to get in and find where Megan's being held." He pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'll set this for messaging, so you can contact me. Let me know if you hear anything from Vanessa about Waring leaving the hospital, or anything like that. I want to know who all I have to deal with. See you guys later."
##########
Frank swung his motorcycle quietly into the parking lot furthest from Crowley Manufacturing's office building. He was relieved to note that there were other vehicles still around; apparently the company did work late on week nights, so his cycle wouldn't be too noticeable. He walked casually toward the office; just one more person on an errand.
Dusk was setting in now, and the light-sensor parking lot lights were just beginning to glow an eerie purple. Frank glanced around once or twice as he slipped between parked cars, and saw what looked like Andrea Bender's black Jaguar, but he couldn't be certain it was hers without closer examination. Still, the thought of Andrea, his mother, and Mrs. Wright sitting watchfully in the Jag made him smile just a little. He hoped, however, that they hadn't noticed him!
Close now…just around this corner…ohhhh, yes…There were bushes, a ten-foot-high row of photinia with dark red leaves, extending along the back of the building. Frank shrank into the welcome concealment with a sigh of relief. So far, so good. He felt in his pocket for the key Mrs. Wright had given him, and crept silently to the door.
The security code pad was steady green, and Frank offered silent thanks. He cautiously tried the door, just in case, but it was locked. He inserted the key; turned it – and was inside.
Moving as quickly as he dared but realizing he had to remain silent, Frank paced unfamiliar blank back hallways. Where would Crowley have Megan? Basement? A storage room? Someplace as obvious as his office? He decided to start with the obvious, and followed the "fire exit" signs toward the stairs. Once inside the stairwell, he relaxed a tiny bit, although he knew well that if someone entered it, he had no place to hide.
Feeling a vibration in his pocket, Frank pulled out his cell phone and with a start, read a message from Joe:
Vanessa called. Waring took off from hospital about 5 minutes ago, after phone conversation with unknown – she couldn't manage to get near the main desk where the calls come in, this time! Be CAREFUL, guy! Tony and I will be there earlier than we planned. J.
So! Waring was coming! Frank re-pocketed the phone and continued up the stairs. When he reached the third floor, he cracked the door open and surveyed the hallway. Empty…but Crowley's office was around the corner, he knew. Here goes nothing….
Sticking close to the wall, Frank edged his way down the corridor, walking as silently as he could, barely breathing – and listening for any sounds of human occupancy. Megan – if you're here, make some noise, baby! Give me some kind of sign!
He stopped at the corner and flattened himself against the wall, then leaned forward just enough to peek around the edge of the wall. The hallway stretched before him, empty. But there was a light shining onto the floor, partway down…Crowley's office door was open! Frank drew back, eyes shut tight as he concentrated. Was the closet on this side of the office? Yes, yes it was…now, can I get in there without making any noise?
Stepping around that corner felt like walking into a mine field. Frank took it one slow step at a time, mentally thanking all his lucky stars that Ted Crowley had chosen to carpet the hallways in his office building. He reached the closet door – and now he could hear soft rustling noises from Crowley's office – sounds of papers being shuffled, perhaps; file drawers being opened and closed. Cautiously, carefully, Frank put pressure on the doorknob of the closet, gently twisted it – and slithered inside, silent as a ghost. He shut the door, and stood stock-still, attempting to catch his breath.
When his heart finally stopped trying to batter itself through his chest wall, Frank gulped a few more breaths, then pulled out his penlight and switched it on. Nothing had changed since his last visit; the paper supplies were still there, the mop and pail hadn't been moved. At least I'm on familiar ground!
He was reaching for a cup, hoping to repeat the success of his last visit to this closet, when he heard rapid footsteps go past his hiding place, and then voices, loud and clear. This time he didn't need the cup.
"What do you think you are doing?" Frank recognized the voice from the video tape: Dr. Gerald Waring had arrived.
"What's it look like I'm doing?" another voice snarled. Crowley! Frank caught his breath. "I'm cutting my losses and getting out of here!"
"Getting out! What do you mean? You can't just leave me to take the rap for all your schemes! And what about her?"
Her? Megan? Was she right there, on the other side of the wall?
"Aauugghh!" Crowley made a sound of disgust. "Those morons! They thought I'd like something to exchange for that damned video tape – so they snatch Wright's daughter! Well, I wanted the tape, all right, but it's too late to trade now. She's seen and heard way too much. I can't let her go." More rustling of papers and the slam of another drawer.
"Do you have to keep her gagged like that?" Waring sounded almost sympathetic.
"Just try taking it off, and see what kind of response you get!" Crowley sneered. "I tried it, earlier today. They don't teach little girls properly anymore; you should have heard the things she said!" He laughed roughly.
Frank's heart contracted at the words. Attagirl, Megan, I hope you gave him hell!
Silence for a moment, then, amazingly, another familiar voice. "Thank you for taking that off, Dr. Waring…but Mr. Crowley's right. And my opinion of you is second only to my opinion of him. I think you are both lying, cheating murderers; you killed my father as well as a lot of helpless patients in the hospital, and—"
A sharp smack interrupted her words. Frank heard her gasp, then go silent; and he clenched his fists in fury.
"Shut up, you little brat!" Crowley howled. "Unless you want some more of the same, keep that little trap shut!"
"Crowley, you didn't need to hit her like that," Waring protested.
"I'll hit you a whole lot harder if you don't shut up, too!"
More rustling of papers…and then Waring spoke again, and his words made Frank's blood freeze.
"What are you doing? You aren't really going to set the building on fire, are you?"
"Why not?" Crowley laughed, a trifle hysterically. "Maybe the insurance will pay off on it! Isn't that where all this started, Waring? The insurance – those lovely, convenient life insurance policies…only they stopped dying, Waring! Why wouldn't they just die?"
"I'm getting out of here!" Waring shouted. "You've gone completely crazy!"
"Go on, then! And when that tape comes to light, just how long do you think you'll have before Bayport's finest come knocking on your door, Doctor Waring? Did you think of that? Maybe you'd better stick with me on this – you coward!"
"Don't you call me a coward!" raged Waring. Frank, trapped helplessly in the storage room, trying to figure out where each person was, next door, heard the doctor close to his wall now. "I'm not a coward – I just have more brains than you, Crowley!"
An inarticulate bellow of rage from Crowley was the only response; and then Frank heard the unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh once again. He cringed, hoping Megan was not the recipient of the violence, and heard more blows being delivered. Waring and Crowley were evidently fighting. Frank cracked the closet door open, just enough to admit light from the hall and amplify the sounds from the office. He waited, holding his breath.
"Unnh!" Waring grunted sharply, and Frank heard a snort of satisfaction from Crowley. And then, one more sharp smack of a fist – and a sudden rush of footsteps. Frank peered through the crack of the door, and saw Gerald Waring tear past, running as if his life depended on it. There was no sound from Ted Crowley.
Frank waited – ten seconds…twenty…thirty. Still hearing no sound at all, he dared to exit the storage room and flattened himself against the wall beside the office door. He cautiously peered around the doorjamb.
Ted Crowley lay sprawled on the floor of his office, apparently knocked cold. Megan Wright was seated on a couch against one wall, her hands and feet tied. A strip of cloth – apparently the gag – hung loosely about her neck. Her right cheek bore a red mark, and was beginning to swell. She was watching Crowley as if he were a poisonous serpent.
"Megan…" Frank whispered, and stepped into the doorway.