Hello... I apologize for not having updated recently. Life being what it is sometimes interferes with our creative side. Please drop a note or review if you like. Always delighted to hear from anyone who reads!

-18-

It was obvious to the newcomers that they had never seen a city, if you could call it that, quite like Anama. Their boat chugged along waterways that were once streets. The heavy flooding in recent months had not been the first for Anama. In fact, it had become almost an annual ritual for a good portion of the area to flood over. The inhabitants, improvising by using a variety of watercraft to move about. Their own boat, which was larger than most, was still able to move along through the area in spite of the buildings which sometimes came dangerously close.

The city was not a prosperous one by any means. The structures, which at times seemed little more than crudely constructed buildings seemed weathered and dilapidated. Some homes and businesses wore bright colored coats of paint to give a positive impression. But they could not hide that which was obvious.

"Kind of sad looking." Frank observed as Agosto piloted their craft slowly along. "So much is under water."

"The poor man's Venice." Joe commented quietly, then pointed out into the distance. "Looks like some of the locals get around by land though."

Frank looked in the direction of his brother's gesture and noted a series of causeways in the distance where vehicles were traveling. They appeared to be nothing more than poorly graded dirt roadways. "Yes. Just barely though. Looks kind of dangerous, too." He observed. "I doubt there was much going on in terms of surveying those roads before they were made. They seem to be made in a random fashion and curve sharply."

Joe offered a brief chuckle as he considered his brother's concerned assessment of the local infrastructure. "Probably not in this year's budget, bro."

The sound of footsteps approaching on the creaking deck alerted the brothers, who turned to see Marcos's approach. He looked at them and offered a reserved smile. "Good morning, senhors. I have just woken senhor Chet and let him know that we have arrived. Antonio has also alerted the garotas. They will be up on deck in a momento."

"Good." Frank said with a nod, then looked back over the nearby buildings, which did not seem to offer much of an impression of hospitality. "We will need some food. Do you think somewhere around here can fix us up?"

Before their guide could answer, a nearby cabin door opened and Chet Morton appeared and walked over to them. The brothers noted the look on their chum's face. A mixture of distress and tiredness. He rubbed his eyes briefly and blinked a few times as he began to focus on their new surroundings. He sighed deeply as he took in the bleak environment, then looked to Marcos. "So, this is Anama?" He asked somewhat incredulously.

Marcos nodded. "Si, senhor Chet."

"Not much, is it?" He muttered as he noted some of the locals passing by in smaller craft offering the group curious looks.

"Not if you mean prosperous, pal." Frank said softly.

A moment later the cabin door again opened, and the figures of Maddie, Jaime and Antonio appeared. The two young women took in their surroundings as they slowly walked over to the group. Jaime glanced around nervously as Maddie turned to her father. "Hey dad, is this our destination?"

Chet gave his daughter a slow nod. "Yeah, baby. At least for the time being."

Maddie looked back out as they passed along seemingly abandoned buildings that were partially submerged in the water. "Is there any place to eat, dad?"

Chet turned to Antonio with a questioning look. "Yes, I was going to ask that myself. What say, Antonio? I could sure use a couple omelets and bagels. Definitely some coffee, too."

Antonio offered a brief laugh and nodded. "Well, senhor Chet, I cannot say we can find you any omelets and bagels? What is this you call bagel?"

Joe gave a grin and gestured a circle shape with his finger. "It is like, uh, round bread with a hole in the middle."

Antonio shook his head, still not understanding. "I am afraid I am not familiar. But I believe we can travel down the waterway a bit, then tie off so we can reach the business area on foot."

"Business area?" Frank questioned, trying to suppress a smirk. The area certainly did not appear that it could have any form of major industry or even retail trade.

Marcos smiled at him. "Yes, places that we may eat and get supplies. We can get off the boat and get something to eat." He said then offered Chet a sideways glance. "But I'm afraid you will not find omelets here either senhor Chet."

"What do we eat then?" Maddie spoke up, her increasing hunger evident.

"Freijoada." Marcos relied simply.

Chet shrugged indifferently, not sure what that was. "Well, whatever it is, we will eat. I am not going to be picky. But we can find coffee?"

Antonio nodded with a smile. "Yes, senhor Chet. All you want." He turned and took a few steps back towards the helm and looked up to Agosto. The pair exchanged words in Portuguese. A few moments later he returned to the group. "Agosto say that maybe ten minutes down there should be a place to dock the boat. He will arrange to take on more fuel and we can get out and walk further into town. We will be able to eat and start making inquiry about any sightings of American mulhers."

"Good." Chet said fretfully. He had not been able to take Callie off his mind. His sleep the evening before had been uneasy. He did not feel at all refreshed when he was summoned from a restless sleep.

A short time later, Agosto piloted their craft into an area where many boats were moored. Since the area was not usually under water it was necessary for the local residents to improvise a system allowing access from water to ground. Wooden planking was haphazardly positioned and mounted wherever it could be constructed. While it might have made for easy breakdown when the flood season was over, Frank looked fearfully at the overall layout. "I think we used to build safer docks on your lake when we were kids, Chet."

Chet nodded affirmatively as he looked at the thin wood planking that made up the series of walkways. "Yeah, got to agree with you there, pal. I hesitate to walk on those things!" he shuddered.

Joe looked down at the planking as the boat came to a stop and shook his head, then looked to Marcos. "Say, how is the captain going to get the fuel onboard? I am not sure those boards will hold much weight!"

Marcos offered his native companion a side grin and chuckled briefly as he looked back to his American friend. "The planking is a pressure treated rosewood, my friend. It is deceivingly strong." He boasted as he led the way off the boat to the nearest makeshift dock. He proceeded to walk along one of the narrow catwalks which appeared to be nothing more than two narrow boards tied together and only anchored at each end without center support. He turned back to the group and purposely jumped up and down against the planks."

"Don't do that!" Chet yelped.

But to the surprise of the Americans, the plank barely flexed under their guide's intentional application of pressure. Frank nodded approvingly as he looked down at the plank. "Rosewood, eh? Well, I learned something new!"

Antonio and Agosto began to laugh at the brief expressions of fright on their employer's faces.

"Americanos bobos!" Agosto laughed as he walked ahead of the group and jumped upon the catwalk without fear and quickly disappeared.

Jaime glanced at her companion. "I have a feeling bobos doesn't translate to smart."

Maddie shook her head. "I'm kind of doubtful."

Chet's glance at Antonio suggested that his native guide did not care to translate the term their boat's captain had used. "Surely not." He smiled and gestured to the others. "Alright, guys. Let's follow Marcos! I need some coffee and breakfast."

Frank placed an arm around his stout chum briefly and nodded. He was at least grateful that Chet's appetite had given him a moment to be distracted from the task at hand. "By all means, after you. I believe you are likely the leader of the American bobos."

After a quick doubletake, Chet gave a grunt and nodded. The group proceeded to follow Marcos along the narrow catwalk, which eventually led them to an area where they reached a higher point of land. They were soon walking along one of the town's dirt streets and looking about. The local residents were all generally dressed in durable, worn clothing of simple style. Some appeared to be working on buildings that had suffered damage from the flooding. Others sat outside of small storefronts.

The group had certainly gained the attention of many of the locals. Chet looked at some of the younger men who had not been discreet in their focus on the two young women with light colored hair. He looked over to his daughter and her companion. "Button those shirts up, ladies." He grunted with a disapproving look at their low-cut tops offering too easy a view of their ample bosoms.

Maddie exchanged an amused look with Jaime and giggled. "But dad. We're wearing halter tops! What buttons?"

Chet looked back over at the pair, realizing his mistake. The girls had both been wearing rather skimpy cotton halter tops, which offered a significant view of their breasts between the halter straps. It also did not help his demeanor that the tops were cropped just below the breast line. "Jeeez, you two. What's with the tops?" He offered a slight growl as they walked along.

Maddie held her arms up in protest, when Chet's eyes widened, and he immediately pointed down. "Arms down, girl! When you lift your arms not much is left to the imagination!"

Maddie shook her head in aggravation. "Dad, it's like a hundred degrees out here. I'm hot."

"Yes, you are!" Jaime said softly with a smile. Maddie turned red for a moment and touched her forehead with embarrassment.

Chet shot Jaime a brief look of displeasure, then looked back to Maddie. "It's not hot here. It's December. You should be wearing a jacket!"

Joe gave his stout chum and smile as they walked along. "Uh, Chet… southern hemisphere. You remember what you learned in the 5th grade, right? Not to mention, you are sweating yourself, pal."

Chet looked down at the perspiration, then offered his friend a mock glare. "It's not sweat, Joe. I am just a little stressed about my little girl broadcasting her goods among the native population, who have not likely seen a blonde goddess around these parts."

Frank turned to them for a moment. "Well, let us hope that they have seen one before… and recently!"

The reference to Callie put Chet's attention back on task. "Yeah, right you are, Frank. After breakfast hopefully we can learn something from the locals."

Fifteen minutes later the group found themselves situated inside a small eatery. The interior suggested it had been there for at least sixty years or more. The walls, including the wood floor had several coats of paint from years of reapplication. It was clear by the blue floor that was faded in many spots by foot traffic that it had not been painted in at least ten years. The Formica top tables had also been a staple there for many decades. In addition to the dozen tables, there was a bar along the far wall, and a swinging door nearby. No doubt it led to the kitchen.

There were numerous ceiling fans hanging above which cut through the dense air. The building did not appear to have air conditioning. The air, while circulating, was not particularly cool. This led reason as to why they observed so many inhabitants along the street who sat outside at small tables or benches.

Chet sat back in his wooden chair, feeling it creak under his weight. He looked skeptically towards the bar where a few of the locals were sitting. Aside from the group sitting at a double table, there were no other tables taken. "Hope the lack of customers isn't indicative of the food." He muttered softly.

"Relax, senhor Chet." Marcos assured him. "Places such as these are not all that to look at, but usually have good food."

Soon a dark-skinned woman of about 40 emerged from the kitchen. She paused in the doorway and looked over at the group at the table with curiosity. Noticing the foreigners were accompanied by two Brazilians seemed concerning to her, especially in the presence of two young females that were clearly not Brazilian. She approached the group and looked down at the pair of American teenage girls and studied them for a moment. Her eyes shifted to the pair of Brazilian men at the table and looked at them suspiciously.

Feeling the woman's look upon him, Marcos cleared his throat. "Ola!" He greeted, somewhat uncomfortable that the woman was looking suspiciously at them instead of the Americans.

The woman's eyes shifted back to the pair of girls then back to Antonio and Marcos. Her eyes narrowed at the pair. "Não há traficantes de crianças neste estabelecimento!"

Marcos and Antonio looked wide eyed for a moment. Antonio shook his head profusely. "Não senhora, não somos traficantes de crianças! Essas pessoas são nossos empregadores. Nós somos guias!"

The Hardys, Chet and girls looked at the two exchanging words rather excitedly. Frank cleared his throat and looked to their guide. "Antonio, what is she saying?" he asked with some alarm.

Antonio looked over to him and gestured to the woman. "She thinks, senhor Frank, that Marcos and me are child traffickers. I am attempting to tell her that we work for you as your tour guides."

The woman did not seem to believe his words. She shook her head. "Guias turísticos? Quem vem fazer um tour pela Anama? Você mente!"

"What did she say now?" Joe asked, noting the woman seemed increasingly aggravated.

"She does not believe we are tour guides. She say who would want to come to Anama to tour? That we are liars." Marcos interpreted.

Joe nodded and looked down a moment. "Suppose she has a point. This isn't exactly Rio."

Chet slowly stood up and looked at the woman with a casual smile. He waved his hand in friendly gesture and reached into his pocket and took out a roll of bills and peeled off a couple $100 bills and tried to hand them to her. "Good morning, senhorita! We tourists. Here, take this. We will pre-pay for breakfast. And please keep the change."

The woman shook her head profusely and refused to accept the money. "Não! Diga ao gordo senhor cociane que não quero o dinheiro sujo dele!"

"Uhm, what did she say?" Chet asked fearfully.

Antonio took a breath and rolled his eyes slightly. "Uhm, she say that she does not want your drug money, Mr. fat cocaine lord."

In spite of things, Joe couldn't help but stifle a laugh. "Oh, lord. Chet, I had no idea that's how you made your money, pal."

Chet rubbed his head and looked to their guides. "Antonio, Marcos, calm her down. Obviously, I am not a drug lord!"

Marcos stood up and gestured towards Chet and his daughter. "Senhora, por favor, entenda que não somos traficantes de drogas ou de crianças. Este homem nos contratou para levá-lo na esperança de encontrar sua esposa desaparecida. Ela foi sequestrada por traficantes. Temos motivos para acreditar que ela foi trazida para Anama. Estas jovens aqui são filhas dele. Não são crianças sequestradas. Eu prometo isso a você!"

The woman looked at Marcos, and then over to Chet and the girls, who all smiled to her. Maddie took a couple steps towards the woman and held out her hands. "Please senhorita, we are not kidnapped. That is my dad!" She said emphatically and gestured to Chet. "We are looking for my mother. She was kidnapped in the USA and brought down here by a man that kidnapped me in the past. We are trying desperately to find her!"

The woman looked back to Marcos questioningly, prodding him to interpret. Marcos smiled and nodded. "Por favor senhorita, não fomos sequestrados. Esse é meu pai! Estamos procurando minha mãe. Ela foi sequestrada nos EUA e trazida para cá por um homem que me sequestrou no passado. Estamos tentando desesperadamente encontrá-la!"

The expression on the woman's face became less tense and she looked back over to Maddie. She cleared her throat. "You say truth?" she asked in broken English.

Maddie nodded and offered her another smile. "Yes, I promise!"

Finally, a relaxed look appeared on the restaurant worker's face. She looked back to Marcos and Antonio and the two exchanged Portuguese for several more moments. Antonio's face broke into a smile, and he looked to the others. "Ok, everything is alright. She just did not want anyone who is in the drug and trafficking profession to eat here."

Chet nodded reluctantly; finally glad the issue was resolved. But not particularly happy with being equated to a drug dealer. "Yes, I can see how that kind of thing could affect your Google rating."

After a bit more conversation with Antonio the woman scurried back towards the kitchen. She soon returned and placed cups down before them. A moment later she fetched a large carafe of coffee and a pitcher of milk and placed them before her customers. After a few more words with Antonio, she quickly smiled and returned to the kitchen.

"I took the liberty of ordering." Antonio explained. "There were not too many options, and it is always best to order the feijoada when in doubt."

"Not sure what that is, but I am happy to eat anything." Chet grumbled and poured himself some coffee.

Frank cleared his throat and looked to his guides. "Seemed the waitress here was easily triggered by us coming in. It tells me one thing though."

"What is that, senhor Frank?" Marcos asked.

"That your country must have a lot of drugs and kidnapping going on. I do not mean that casually, mind you. Just that if some kidnappers are bold enough to stop off at the local eatery with their victims it says a lot."

"Sim." Marcos admitted. "The law often looks the other way. Many policia are paid to. So, some of the honest stores and restaurants who do not want to be associated with drug and child trafficking must enforce their own rules. Though many do not mind when those criminals go to their business. They know they have money and are willing to earn it from most anyone."

"But this senhorita…" Antonio said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "She wants no part of that. I would have to say she must have some firsthand experience with those kinds of people to feel as strongly as she did."

"Sim." Marcos nodded solemnly.

"I wonder if she knows anything about our friends Reese and Lila St. Clair?" Joe mused aloud.

"I think it bears investigating." Frank said and took a sip of coffee. "We should have Marcos or Antonio ask her what she knows."

"Easy on that." Chet grunted. "At least wait till she brings us our food. If we are going to get her dander up again, I want to do it on a full stomach."

"Well, of course, pal." Joe needled his chum. "We can't have our favorite fat coke lord going hungry."

The group was soon enjoying large portions of Feijoada, a Brazilian black bean and pork stew served over rice.

"Do you know what really gets people's attention?"

The question, while posed by a clearly psychopathic woman, warranted the attention. Callie looked up, an expression of pain clearly on her face as a trail of blood dripped down her cheek. "No…" She rasped. "Perhaps you will enlighten me."

Lila St. Clair stepped back to assess her work. She had been working on Callie most of the morning. Directed to waken their captive for breakfast, Lila took pride for having inflicted so much misery in those early morning hours. She stepped forward again toward Callie, who had been tied to an upright board which sat in the middle of the room. She came within an inch of her face, a sadistic smile painted on her face. "Fear… and pain. Or more, the anticipation of it."

Lila stepped back and nodded. She did enjoy her work. Callie refused to humor her and managed an indifferent shrug. "You know, after a while of doing this, I can manage to numb myself accordingly. So, if you feel the need to bring more pain upon me, go ahead. I do not fear it. And I certainly do not feel it in the way you are hoping."

Lila St. Clair quickly stepped forward again and struck Callie squarely in the jaw with her gloved hand. More blood oozed from her lip. Despite this Callie managed a faint smile. "Is that your best shot, princess? Because if it is, it sucks." She offered a faint laugh between gasps.

Lila was about to launch forward impulsively. But before she could a voice of authority sounded from behind. "Enough!" it bellowed with an irritated tone.

Both women looked over to see Reese walking in, shaking his head at his associate. She looked back at him pleadingly. "Just one more time?"

He shook his head. "No. I want her functional. I want her conscious." He continued as he sauntered over to face Callie. "When her lovely daughter joins us, the pain which will be inflicted will be one hundred fold of what you have been doing. And unlike the pain from your workout session here, the pain I will inflict will not involve touching her. She will know the pain of being defenseless. When her child needs her most." His final words came with a sickening smile.

Lila took a deep breath. Clearly frustrated that she could not continue her ongoing torture of Callie. She flashed Reese a quick look in desperation. "Just let me take a finger… just one!"

Reese blinked a few times, then held up a finger. "Patience, Lila. Patience. When her daughter gets here just imagine how distressing our little momma here will be. Maybe we will turn a few of our male couriers out on her. After I am finished with her of course. Then, perhaps after all of that you can take out your various implements. The sharp ones you love to use so much. Perhaps the thing you did to the last laundress. You know, the one who put too much starch in your laundry? What did you use on her? Sulfuric acid?"

A sickening smile crossed Lila St. Clair's face as she remembered. "Yes, sulfuric acid on the nipples." The mention of this made Callie wince.

Reese smiled at her. "Yes, but I thought you overdid it when you injected it into her jugular. It was far too fast a way to go."

Again, a wince from Callie indicated to her captors that she was not enjoying the recollection.

"What's wrong, momma?" Lila asked with feigned innocence. "Something I said… or did? I was only trying to persuade the poor child on the proper way to do my laundry."

Callie closed her eyes tightly, hoping that it was all just a bad dream. "You are a sick bitch." She rasped.

Before Lila could react, Reese spoke up. "Not now, Lila. Throw her back in her cell. I need you to go down to the storage facility and tell those mules I am not happy with how long the last order took to reach our associates. And how unpleasant it will be for them if they are inefficient in the future."

Lila perked at the opportunity to inflict her brand of persuasion on the hired help. While not quite as gratifying as inflicting pain upon Callie, she was up for the task. "Very well, my dear. Always up to earn my keep."

Reese nodded, then turned back to Callie. "And you, my love… well, I will certainly let you know when your lovely and most nubile daughter arrives. I am so looking forward to our reunion."

Callie's lip quivered at the thought. Was Maddie really coming? Or was this all an elaborate misdirection from Reese. Did Maddie really stow away on her father's plane? Did Chet actually come down to Brazil? She hoped for rescue, but clearly feared that Maddie was somehow with Chet and the Hardy's. She didn't know what to believe. All she knew was she had to keep praying that her daughter was safe. And that somehow, she would be rescued.

"Do you really think you can locate them?" Iola asked fretfully.

For much of the day since his return, Fenton Hardy had been attempting to give his daughter in law the assurance that he knew where to go. Earlier in the day when he returned to Bayport, he had consulted with Chief Collig and his detectives. Hardy got the whole story of what had transpired in his absence, and knew he needed to get to Brazil to help his sons. Fenton was deeply concerned upon learning that not only had Reese entered their lives again, but his agent, Lila St. Clair was the facilitator.

Fenton Hardy nodded affirmatively to her. "Yes, my dear. Their flight plan was for Manaus. And I was able to track Frank's phone there as well. Assuming there is some kind of satellite coverage in the area, I should be able to track the location with reasonable accuracy. But I really must go!"

Iola nodded, still holding onto Fenton's hands as they stood outside the Bayport Airport. "I know…" She wept, clearly distraught. "Just get down there and bring them all home safe!"

"I will, my dear." With another hug, he turned and rushed into the terminal.