33

Fenton Hardy descended into the depths of the tunnel entrance beneath Reese's compound, the heavy scent of damp earth filling his lungs. Inspector Menendez followed closely behind, flashlight beams cutting through the darkness. The walls were reinforced with metal braces, newer materials contrasting against the original stone framework. This wasn't just an emergency escape route—this was an engineered tunnel, built for vehicles and frequent use.

Fenton knelt, running his hand along the packed dirt floor. Tire tracks. Not old ones, either.

"They came through here recently," he muttered.

Menendez studied the tunnel's structure, his expression grim. "This isn't a crude smuggling tunnel. This is professionally excavated. No cave-ins, no instability."

Fenton stood, his mind racing. Where does it lead?

Menendez pulled out his map, angling it toward Fenton's flashlight. "If this tunnel runs in the direction it appears to, the most logical exit point is Tupana." He tapped a spot on the map. "It's the closest town, directly along the projected path. It's about 120 kilometers away. And it connects to the main highway leading into Manaus. It would be the most ideal place to tunnel to."

Fenton's gut twisted. Reese wasn't just fleeing—he was executing a plan he had in place long before their arrival. An emergency evacuation plan. The tunnel was made as a likely escape and trafficking path.

Fenton glanced back toward the compound above. "He's long gone," he admitted, frustration lacing his tone. "If we'd arrived six hours earlier—maybe even four—"

Menendez finished the thought grimly. "We could have caught them before they surfaced."

Fenton exhaled sharply. "We need to move fast. If they're headed to Manaus, we have to intercept them before they reach an airstrip."

Back at the compound, the remaining survivors were being tended to by Federal Police. Antonio and Marcos sat near the entrance, speaking quietly until Fenton approached.

"You're Marcos?" Fenton asked, glancing between the two men.

Marcos nodded. "And this is Antonio. We were hired in Manaus by Senhor Chet Morton to guide them through the jungle and ensure the safety of Maddie and Jaime."

Antonio added, "We ran into trouble the moment we reached Anama. We encountered the police captain, Renaldo. He directed us toward Reese's compound."

Fenton frowned. "Renaldo helped you?"

Marcos scoffed. "Not quite. It was clear he was corrupt. He knew where Reese was. But of course did not admit this outright. He suggested an area we might find Mr. Reese. He led us right into a trap."

Fenton clenched his jaw. Reese had orchestrated the entire thing. He had invited them in, giving them just enough information to lead them directly to his compound—and his waiting ambush. He remembered the last time he spoke to Frank. His son told him about discovering the scrap of paper clue that lead them to the ferry.

Antonio ran a hand over his face, exhaustion weighing on his features. "We were outnumbered before we even knew what hit us. Reese's men took us captive. We were locked in a separate cell, unable to do anything."

Fenton exhaled sharply, piecing it together. "Reese always intended to let us find this place. He counted on us coming here—just in time to find it abandoned."

Marcos nodded grimly. "It was a trap. A game. He knew you'd come, and he knew exactly when to leave."

Nearby, Fenton spotted Isadora, a small, thin girl wrapped in a tattered blanket. She was barely thirteen, but the haunted look in her eyes made her seem older.

He approached slowly. "Isadora?"

She flinched at first but nodded.

"You were here when they left?" Fenton asked gently.

"Yes," she said in a soft, trembling voice.

"Did you see which tunnel they took?"

She hesitated before nodding. "The big one. The one with the truck."

Fenton exchanged a glance with Menendez. They had confirmation.

Fenton crouched down, keeping his voice steady. "Isadora, how long have you been here?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "Two years," she whispered.

Fenton's stomach churned. A child. Kidnapped, likely sold to Reese by one of his traffickers.

"Where is your family?"

"São Paulo," she said, voice barely audible.

Fenton reached for his radio. "She's coming with us." He turned back to her, softer now. "We'll take you home. I promise."

Her lip trembled, but she nodded.

Fenton and Menendez reconvened with their team, going over the map one last time.

"Tupana is the most logical exit point," Menendez stated. "If we move now, we can still close the gap before they reach Manaus."

Antonio interjected, "Chet's plane is parked in Manaus. He left it behind when we first set out."

Fenton frowned. "Is it functional?"

Marcos shook his head. "No. Last we heard, it was grounded for weeks."

Menendez considered this. "Then Reese wouldn't rely on it. He must have his own transport waiting."

Fenton nodded. "He's got resources. That means we're not just looking for Chet's plane—we're looking for any aircraft that can get them out of Brazil or possibly to a more local location. But my money is on leaving the country, even just temporarily."

Menendez turned to his men. "We move now. No delays."

Fenton glanced at the sky, dawn beginning to break.

The chase was on.

The van rumbled into Manaus as the early morning sun rose over the bustling city. The air was thick with humidity, but inside the vehicle, the tension was heavier than the air outside. Maddie sat stiffly, her face pale, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the weight of the explosives vest pressed against her chest.

Reese, seated comfortably in the front passenger seat, glanced back at her with a smirk. "Not too much longer now, sweetheart. Then we can get that off you."

Maddie didn't respond. She couldn't.

Lila, driving the van, tapped her fingers against the wheel. "We should have no problems getting through. I made the necessary arrangements with airport security."

Chet, sitting between Callie and Jaime, was seething. He had been forced to make the call to the airport personnel, playing it off like a normal departure. Now, as they approached the airport, his hands curled into fists.

Reese caught the movement from the corner of his eye and chuckled. "Don't sulk, Chet. You're getting twenty pies. With ice cream. I'd say that's more than fair compensation for your plane."

Chet gritted his teeth. "Yeah, just what I wanted—pies and extortion."

Jaime, despite her fear, muttered under her breath, "At least he added ice cream this time."

Reese grinned. "See? I'm a generous man."

The van pulled into the private aviation entrance of Eduardo Gomes International Airport, bypassing the busy commercial terminals. This was the domain of private jets and wealthy individuals who sometimes expected discretion. Lila rolled down the window as they approached the security checkpoint, flashing a smooth smile at the uniformed guard.

The guard gave a quick glance at the van, checked his tablet, then nodded. "You're clear to proceed."

"Perfect," Lila said sweetly.

The boom barrier lifted, and Lila drove them into the secured section of the airport, following the designated route toward the private hangars.

"Great airport security." Joe muttered.

Reese exhaled contentedly then chuckled. "Like the Bayport Airport security gate is so secure. I'm sure Jaime and Maddie here can attest to that." Both girls briefly reddened at the recollection.

"This place is definitely low security," Frank muttered quietly beside Joe, who was sitting stiffly, watching everything unfold with sharp eyes.

"I don't like this," Joe agreed under his breath. "They're too calm."

Reese stretched and cracked his neck. "Oh, I assure you, boys, there's nothing to worry about—as long as you follow my very simple instructions."

They drove past a row of sleek private jets before finally pulling up alongside a gleaming white and blue striped Gulfstream G650. The plane stood in the morning light like a silent sentinel, ready for departure.

Chet clenched his jaw as he spotted it. His plane.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Reese said, stepping out of the van and admiring the aircraft. "Chet, I have to say, your taste in transportation is impeccable. I may just have to upgrade your last pie compensation to twenty-five."

"Generous," Chet muttered dryly.

Lila turned to Frank and Joe. "Time to earn your keep, flyboys. Get this thing ready to go."

Frank's hands tightened into fists, but he knew better than to resist. "And if we don't?"

Reese's smirk widened. "Why do you guys keep asking that? Like the terms of play have changed? If you don't take off then we see what happens when we detonate Maddie's vest mid-runway."

Maddie visibly flinched, inhaling sharply.

Frank and Joe exchanged a glance. They had no choice.

Joe swallowed hard. "Nice of you to remind us. Alright, we will comply."

"Smart boys," Reese said approvingly. "Now, get moving. We're on a tight schedule."

Frank and Joe climbed the airstairs, stepping into the familiar luxurious interior of Chet's plane. Cream-colored leather seats, polished mahogany paneling, and modern flight instrumentation greeted them. It was a far cry from the gritty jungle they had been trapped in.

Joe slid into the co-pilot's seat while Frank took the captain's chair. "Let's do this," he muttered.

They started the pre-flight systems check, running through navigation, fuel levels, communications, and engine diagnostics.

Reese strolled onto the plane behind them, dropping his bags next to one of the plush seats. He let out an impressed whistle. "Chet, I have to admit, I underestimated you. This is high-class. I might just have to reconsider my offer—maybe we go up to thirty pies."

Chet scowled from the entrance of the plane. "How about you just don't steal my plane?"

Reese laughed. "Oh, Chet. Always with the jokes."

Maddie was led onto the plane next, her face pale, her breathing shallow. She was physically exhausted and emotionally drained.

Reese noticed her unease and gave her a mocking wink. "You'll feel better soon, sweetheart. Once we're airborne, we'll get this vest off and find you something to take the edge off."

Maddie didn't respond, she took a seat and wrapped her arms around her body protectively.

Callie and Jaime followed next, both tense but silent, while Lila took a seat near the cockpit, where she could easily keep an eye on everyone.

Frank activated the radio, listening to air traffic control confirm their flight plan to Ontario, Canada.

He turned to Reese. "Flight path is logged."

Reese grinned, leaning back into the leather seat. "Then let's get this bird in the air."

"Give us a few!" Frank urged. "It's a process to go through the motions."

"Make it sooner than later. And be very careful what you say on the radio." Reese said with a look suggesting he was not playing.

Frank and Joe both put on headsets. They proceeded to go through various check lists as quickly as possible. Soon, the engines were roaring to life and the two pilots ran through the pre takeoff list.

Finally, Frank dialed in to the correct frequency, then cleared his voice. "This is 23-Sierra Heavy request taxi."

Frank listened carefully and began the taxi sequence. Soon, the aircraft rolled onto the private runway, its powerful engines spooling up.

Joe whispered under his breath, "This better not be our last flight."

Frank didn't answer.

The plane accelerated down the runway, its powerful engines propelling them forward.

Maddie shut her eyes as the force pressed her against the seat.

Callie reached over and squeezed her daughter's hand. "Hold on, sweetheart."

The wheels left the ground, and within moments, they were airborne, climbing through the clouds.

Reese leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. "Ah, nothing like a smooth takeoff."

Lila smirked at their captives. "Well, congratulations, everyone. You've officially left Brazil."

The realization settled over them like a weight. They were in the air.

But Fenton Hardy was still out there.

And if they knew anything about him—he wasn't far behind.

The plane soared smoothly through the sky, cutting through the clouds as if nothing had happened on the ground below. But inside the cabin, the air was thick with tension, despite the lavish surroundings. The captive passengers remained rigid in their seats, knowing that even though they were out of the compound, they were far from being free.

Reese, appearing pleased with himself, stretched his arms and yawned. "Well, now that we're comfortably airborne, I suppose it's time to make our guest of honor a little more comfortable."

He turned to Maddie, who had barely moved since takeoff, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. "Come here, sweetheart."

Maddie visibly stiffened but didn't resist as Reese knelt in front of her and unlatched the explosive vest. The device came off with a series of mechanical clicks, and for the first time since being fitted with it, Maddie exhaled fully.

She slumped back against the seat, bringing her hands to her face in overwhelming relief. "Oh my God."

Reese chuckled, holding up the now inactive vest as if it were a discarded jacket. "See? I'm not a monster."

Maddie let out a breathy, nervous laugh, still too relieved to respond with sarcasm.

Lila, however, smirked from her seat across the cabin. "Don't get too cozy, kid. Just because the vest is off doesn't mean I won't still blow it sky-high." She held up the remote detonator and wiggled it between her fingers. "And trust me, I've got no issues pressing this button if you all start getting ideas."

The reminder drained some of the color from Maddie's face, but Reese patted her knee reassuringly. "Relax, darling. You behave, and there won't be any explosions today."

Reese tossed the vest into one of the empty seats and stood, rolling his shoulders. "Now, onto more important matters."

Reese took a leisurely tour of Chet's private jet, his eyes glinting with approval. The cream-colored leather seats, polished mahogany paneling, and spacious interior had already impressed him, but it wasn't until he stepped past the bar area and into the luxurious sleeping quarters that he truly seemed enthralled.

"Well, well, well…" Reese ran his hand along the plush bedding of one of the bedrooms, turning back toward Chet. "Chet, my friend, you've been holding out on me. This isn't just a jet—it's a goddamn airborne penthouse."

Chet, still bitter about losing his plane, crossed his arms. "I worked hard for that damn thing."

Reese smirked. "I'm sure you did. But now, it's a very generous donation." He clapped his hands together. "Alright, I've reconsidered your compensation."

Chet raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Reese grinned. "Fifty pies. Final offer."

Chet rolled his eyes. "Great. Can't wait to collect."

Lila snorted. "Knowing you, Morton, you'll find a way to eat all of them before you even get home."

Before Chet could fire back, Reese returned to the main cabin and gestured toward the bar. "I think it's time to celebrate our smooth departure."

Reese moved behind the bar, scanning the impressive selection of alcohol. "Let's see… we've got whiskey, rum, tequila, brandy—damn, Chet, you stocked this thing like a five-star lounge."

Chet huffed. "I like options."

Callie, already settling in now that they were in the air, raised a hand. "Irish whiskey. Tall."

Maddie, who had just begun to regain her composure, immediately followed suit. "Same."

Chet turned sharply toward his daughter. "Maddie, maybe that's not—"

Reese grinned and poured generously. "Oh, relax, Chet. She deserves it after the day she's had."

Chet looked like he wanted to protest again, but Callie, already accepting her drink, cut him off. "Let her have it, Chet. It's not like she has a lot of control over her choices right now."

Maddie gratefully took her glass and downed a deep sip, feeling the warmth spread through her. Callie gave her a knowing look and tapped her glass against Maddie's before taking a drink herself.

Lila smirked at the exchange. "Cute. Matching mother-daughter drinking habits."

Jaime nudged Maddie lightly. "Take it slow, Mads."

Maddie ignored the warning, taking another sip.

Reese leaned against the bar, watching the group. "Now, before we get too comfortable, let's go over some basic rules."

Frank, who had been quiet while he and Joe monitored the flight systems, turned his attention toward Reese. "We figured as much."

Reese smiled. "Good, you're catching on. Rule number one: No funny business." He pointed at the cockpit. "I have the radio frequency tuned in to the cabin. If you two try anything, I'll know."

Joe forced a tight-lipped smile. "Glad to see you trust us."

Lila chuckled, sipping from her own drink. "I'd trust you more if you weren't both raised by a cop."

Reese continued, unfazed. "Rule number two: No one gets any ideas about taking control of this flight. I'd rather not turn this into a mid-air disaster."

Chet grumbled, "That makes two of us."

Reese sighed dramatically. "Come on, people. Let's keep things light. We're on a luxury jet, after all."

Joe leaned back and grinned. "So, Lila… where's my complimentary in-flight meal?"

Lila raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like a flight attendant?"

Joe shrugged. "You're bossy enough."

Frank hid a smirk.

Reese let out a deep laugh. "Now that's funny." He reached for another bottle and began pouring himself a drink. "Alright, I think we're all set. Let's enjoy the ride."

As the whiskey flowed, Maddie and Callie gradually became more intoxicated, their laughter becoming looser, their tension momentarily forgotten.

For the moment, at least, Reese allowed the illusion of relaxation.

But Frank and Joe weren't fooled.

They knew that no matter how comfortable this flight seemed, their nightmare was far from over.

Chet glared at his wife, watching as Callie tilted back her glass and drained the last of her Irish whiskey. She had already downed two, maybe three glasses in quick succession, and it was starting to irritate him.

"Callie, don't you think you've had enough?" Chet grumbled, crossing his arms.

Callie arched an eyebrow at him as she swirled the remnants of her drink in the glass. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you suddenly the authority on self-control?" She motioned toward the bar. "Go ahead and cut me off, Chet. See how that goes for you."

Chet sighed and rubbed his temples. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Callie said, her tone sharp. "And maybe, just maybe, you should remember how much I hate flying before you get all righteous with me. You were there when our last plane crashed. You think I'm not thinking about that right now?"

Chet grimaced, his expression softening. "Callie, that was years ago—"

"And I haven't forgotten a second of it," she shot back. "So, if I need a few drinks to keep from completely losing it, then I'm going to have a few drinks."

Reese, who had been leaning against the bar, enjoying the show, let out a low chuckle. "Well now, this is entertaining."

Callie cut her eyes at him. "Glad you're enjoying yourself."

Reese grinned. "Oh, I am. And I'll tell you something else—I really like this plane. I think I'll keep it." He patted one of the leather seats. "This would make for an excellent transport aircraft for my business. Plenty of storage space, a smooth ride—hell, I could move half a shipment undetected with the right modifications."

Chet groaned loudly. "Oh, come on! You're already stealing my plane, and now you're gonna repurpose it for smuggling?"

Reese shrugged, unbothered. "Seems like a waste not to. And let's be honest, you'll never see this plane again, so why do you care?"

"Because it's mine!" Chet snapped.

Joe, who had been quietly sipping a glass of water, rolled his eyes and finally spoke up. "Oh, give it a rest, Chet. It's not like you bought the damn thing." He called over his shoulder from the cockpit.

Chet stiffened. "Excuse me?"

Joe set his drink down with a smirk. "We all know you won this jet in a card game."

Reese, suddenly very intrigued, sat forward. "Wait, wait, wait. You won this plane in a card game?"

Frank, unable to hide his amusement, nodded. "Yeah. That's what happened."

Reese laughed, a rich, amused sound. "Well now, that changes things. You didn't even work for this plane—you just got lucky." He shook his head. "Chet, Chet, Chet… and here you are crying about losing something you have no money in."

"Try again. The insurance premiums on this thing are a bear!" He grumbled.

Lila, snickering, glanced at Chet. "So, if the other guy bet this plane, what exactly did you bet?"

Chet shifted uncomfortably. "Uh… nothing important."

Callie, sensing immediate bullshit, turned sharply toward her husband. "Chet… what did you bet?"

Chet scratched the back of his head. "It's not a big deal—"

Callie narrowed her eyes. "Chet. Tell me. Now."

Chet sighed heavily. "...The house."

Callie blinked. "The house? Our house? As in the house on Long Island? The house that cost millions? That house?"

Chet hesitated. "...Yes."

There was a long silence.

Then Callie, utterly exasperated, set her drink down and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Chet Morton, you absolute idiot. We could have lost our home."

Reese and Lila burst into laughter.

"Oh, this is too good," Lila said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "So, you're telling me you put your entire mansion up in a bet and nearly lost your whole damn house? And now you're whining because Reese is taking your stolen plane?"

"Technically, not stolen—won," Reese corrected, smirking. "I mean, if Chet can gamble his way into ownership, why can't I?"

Chet threw up his hands. "This isn't the same thing!"

"Oh, it absolutely is," Reese said, clearly enjoying himself. "Lila, make sure we note this moment. We have a married man who almost gambled away his house, and his wife just found out mid-kidnapping. This is prime entertainment."

Callie glared daggers at her husband. "You are so in the doghouse when this is over."

Lila grinned. "That's assuming this ever ends."

Reese chuckled. "Honestly, if I knew you were such a risk-taker, Chet, I would've made you a better offer. Hell, maybe I'll challenge you to a game myself. If you win, I let you go. But if you lose… well, let's just say, I'll be collecting more than just your plane."

Chet stiffened. "Yeah, no thanks."

Frank, clearing his throat, changed the subject. "So, Ontario was the filed flight plan. Are we actually going there, or is that just for show?"

Reese smirked. "You're not dumb, Frank. You already know the answer."

Joe sighed. "So where are we actually going?"

Reese leaned back in his seat and smiled. "Oh, just fly toward the U.S. I'll let you know more when I feel like it."

Frank and Joe exchanged looks.

"That's not exactly helpful," Joe pointed out.

"It wasn't meant to be," Reese replied, grinning. "Now, drink up, people.

As the drinks flowed, Callie kept drinking, while Maddie sank deeper into her seat, her earlier relief of being freed from the vest slowly shifting into something else.

Jaime, watching Maddie carefully, nudged her. "You good, Mads?"

Maddie let out a deep breath. "I dunno. Everything still feels off."

Jaime squeezed her hand. "That's because it is."

Reese and Lila continued to banter with each other, mocking the situation while Callie downed another whiskey, muttering under her breath about her husband's gambling problem.

Chet, grumbling to himself, tried to ignore the glares Callie kept throwing his way.

Frank and Joe remained alert, watching Reese carefully on the camera, knowing that the moment he revealed their true destination, that would be their best chance to figure out a plan.

For now, though, they had no choice but to play along.