Author's Note:
I am truly sorry for the amount of time it took to get this chapter finished. I really wanted it to be done a while back but a lot of things have happened over the past few months. It's definitely been a journey, to say the least. I am going to do my best in getting the rest of the story out. It all depends on how things flow over the next few weeks. I resigned from my job back in August in order to go back to school, so studies are now taking precedence. But there will be times (now, for example) that I will get a chapter published. Please bear with me. Thank you so much for all the continued support and reviews on the previous chapters! I hope you enjoy! God bless!
Chapter Twenty-Four
"So, these are the jewels everyone's after," Martinelli mused, eyeing the glinting treasures. "Makes you wonder what they're worth."
"Does it really matter?" Frank snapped, placing the boxes back into the bag, his gaze narrowing at the mobster. "Mom died for these jewels, and you're wondering about their value! They're worth nothing if it means someone has to die!"
"Frank," Joe interjected, stepping between them and placing a hand on his brother's chest. "He's not worth it."
"Listen to your brother, kid," Martinelli chuckled, but it fell flat.
Joe whirled around to face him, anger flaring in his eyes. "I should let him at you, Martinelli. I don't care who you are! Nancy asked us to trust you, but I'm tempted to throw you out!"
"Okay," Martinelli raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It just makes me wonder who this buyer is and why these jewels are so important. As I mentioned, those jewels are part of a larger set—my guess is they're royal. But I'm curious why Angelo seems so afraid of the buyer, whoever they are."
"What's going on here?" Fenton's voice cut through the tension as he approached, his expression grim. "I was upstairs getting changed, and all I'm hearing down here is yelling." His eyes narrowed at Martinelli. "Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with you?"
"Fen," Martinelli shrugged nonchalantly, "it was just a misunderstanding. I was asking Frank about something and—"
"And he wondered what the jewels were worth," Frank finished, frustration evident in his tone.
"Is that right?" Fenton asked, glancing at the small bag Frank clutched, then turning to Joe. "You actually found them?"
"Yes," Joe replied, pride swelling in his chest.
"Wow, that's a surprise," Fenton remarked, shaking his head. "Here I thought we'd have to wait another year to find them."
"How did you find them, anyway?" Frank questioned, casting a skeptical look at Joe.
Just as Joe opened his mouth to respond, the telephone rang. He walked over, lifted the receiver, and after a brief pause, set it back down. Turning to his father, he said, "That was Chief Collig. He wants us at the station immediately."
"Thank you for coming in, Fenton," Chief Collig stated ten minutes later, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "I'm sorry to bring you in like this after everything that's happened."
"It's okay, Ezra," Fenton replied. "Is everything all right?"
"It's Walter Tannen. He won't talk to us until he speaks with you, Frank, and Joe."
"Really?"
"Yes," the chief nodded solemnly, glancing at Frank and Joe, who were standing with Nancy, Vanessa, and Gertrude. "I'm surprised you brought those three with you. Shouldn't Nancy be resting after what happened?"
"I didn't want her home alone," Fenton answered.
"Okay. I'm surprised Trudy didn't put up more of a fight."
"Oh, she did. She didn't want to come either, but until we figure out who we're dealing with, I want everyone with us." Fenton sighed, shaking his head. "Besides, it wasn't just me who insisted Nancy come along. Frank wouldn't leave her behind, and she wanted to be here. Even without a voice, that woman is as stubborn as a mule."
"Understandable. Were you at least able to freshen up?"
"Yes. It feels better to be in clean clothes after a night like that." He walked alongside Collig as they navigated through the station, where several officers waved and smiled at the group. "What's going on with Tannen, Ezra?"
"He seems nervous," Collig explained, shaking his head. "We keep telling him he's safe, but he insists on speaking with you before we do. I don't know what he's scared of—maybe Vincenzo Martinelli. Speaking of which, where is that sneaky son of a bitch?"
"I made him stay out in his car," Fenton stated. "He didn't want to come in anyway, especially considering we're at a police station, but he was also adamant about being here."
"Should I be worried?"
"I don't think so," the detective replied, shaking his head. "Vinny seems like he wants to do the right thing, but I'm still not trusting him one hundred percent."
"And you don't think I should be worried?" Collig chuckled.
Fenton glanced back at Frank and Joe, who were walking several paces behind with Nancy. "It's not that, Ezra. I think he was talking to Frank at some point. I didn't get a chance to ask before you called us over, but I feel like something happened between them. Frank hasn't said much since the hospital, and I suspect he's keeping something from me."
"Maybe it has something to do with what happened in Chicago last night."
"What happened last night?" Fenton asked, stopping his old friend. "Nancy mentioned something about her fiancé going to jail. Is that what happened?"
"I don't know the whole story, Fenton," Collig replied. "Only what I heard from Chief McGinnis and Frank, which wasn't much. It involved Nancy's father and an Owen Hartley."
"I'll have to ask Frank about it later. Right now, let's focus on what Tannen wants."
"What was going on between you and Martinelli back at the house, Frank?" Joe whispered, glancing sideways at his brother and Nancy.
"I don't know what you mean," Frank replied, his tone evasive.
"You know exactly what I mean!" Joe hissed, frustration seeping into his voice. Nancy glanced between the two, confusion etched on her face.
Frank pursed his lips, his gaze fixed ahead on their father and Chief Collig deep in conversation. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach; he didn't want to delve into what had transpired with Martinelli—not while the mystery of Tannen hung in the air like a dark cloud.
As they approached the conference room, Frank felt a knot tighten in his stomach. What did Tannen know that was so important he refused to speak to anyone else? He glanced sideways at Joe, whose expression mirrored his own unease.
"Do you think he'll tell us what we need to know?" Joe asked, breaking the silence.
"I hope so," Frank replied, but doubt crept into his mind. What if Tannen's hiding more than just the story of the jewels?
Fenton turned to them, his brows furrowed. "Keep your guard up. Whatever's going on with him, it's serious. I don't want anyone getting hurt."
Frank nodded, feeling the weight of his father's words. The station felt charged with tension, each step echoing the uncertainty they faced.
They paused outside the interrogation room, and Collig turned toward the Hardys. "I'll be in the next room listening in. Please don't do anything that would jeopardize the investigation." His eyes lingered on Frank and Joe before he opened the door.
Tannen sat at the only table, his hands folded on top. His head popped up the moment the door opened, and his shoulders dropped in relief upon seeing the Hardys. The three men walked in while Collig closed the door behind them. Fenton took the only open chair at the table, as Joe leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Frank remained by the door, waiting for Tannen to speak. Minutes passed in silence, tension filling the room.
"Well?" Fenton growled, breaking the quiet. "We're here. What is it you want to say that you couldn't say to the police?"
"I want to apologize," Tannen stated nervously. He looked at each Hardy before returning his gaze to Fenton. "I never meant for this to happen."
"Meant for what?" Joe snapped, pushing off the wall. "Mom dying?"
"That was an accident!"
"Or maybe kidnapping us?" he continued, ignoring Tannen's words.
"Joe..." Fenton said, rising from his chair and placing a hand on his son's chest.
"Oh, I know! How about kidnapping our friend and threatening to kill her? Maybe that's what you're apologizing for!"
"That's enough!"
"But, Dad..."
"Let him speak."
Joe glared at Tannen, frustration radiating off him, before retreating back to the wall. Fenton sat down, folding his hands in front of him, studying Tannen, who bowed his head in defeat.
"What really was supposed to happen?" the detective asked calmly.
"I need to start from the beginning," Tannen replied. Joe made a noise of disbelief and shook his head. "If you'll let me."
"Go ahead."
Tannen glanced at Frank, who was silently watching with a mask of stoicism. "You weren't supposed to buy the jewels."
"Obviously," Frank shrugged, bitterness seeping into his voice. "I was a stupid kid who thought he knew what he wanted. Those jewels brought nothing but misery."
"And I'm sorry about that," Tannen said sadly, his voice barely above a whisper. He bowed his head, taking a deep breath before starting his story.
"I was six when we moved to Philly," he solemnly began. "Pops was just killed and Ma wanted out of Brooklyn. I remember things about you, Mr. Hardy. Vague but there. I knew you were friends with Vincenzo Martinelli and Angelo Biancci even though you were a good cop. Anyway, Ma didn't want me to follow in Pops' footsteps so she moved us closer to her family."
"How was he killed?" Fenton inquired.
"I was too young to know," he shook his head. "And Ma never liked talking about it. All I know is that he made someone mad. I was a good kid though. Got good grades, graduated from high school in 41. Instead of going to college, I went to the military academy. Ma was so proud. I was only a few months in when the Japs bombed Pearl. Every single cadet wanted to go after them and make 'em pay, myself included. The Army wanted us to finish though so they expedited us to get us over to Europe to fight Nazis. They needed squad leaders for all the new enlisted soldiers. Imagine me, a hot shot 19 year old leading a squad of men several years older than me. I finished my training then went over to Europe not two weeks after graduation. My new squad was a rag tag group. It's where I met Dom and Samson. I was their lieutenant and they were with me all the way to the end.
"Fast forward three years. We were winning the war and somehow we hadn't been hurt. I lost a lot of good men in those three years but Dom, Samson, and I were still around. I guess God was watching over us."
"Yeah, right," Joe scoffed.
"Joe," his father warned. When the younger Hardy didn't say anything more, Fenton urged Tannen to continue.
"Then we found out that Hitler killed himself," the man continued. "That was May of '45. We thought we were going to go home soon. Especially since VE day was May 8th. Boy, were we wrong. Our battalion was given last minute orders to go to some Nazi holdout in the mountains. It was a castle, heavily fortified. But the higher-ups wanted to know what the Nazis were doing up there. We lost almost half the battalion before we were able to take the castle. The soldiers didn't even know their leader was dead until we told them. After that, they lost all the fight. My squad was now just Dom, Samson, and me. We were ordered to search the catacombs with another squad to see if there was anyone else while the remainder of the battalion either searched the upper parts of the castle or stayed with the injured and prisoners."
"I'm sorry," Joe interrupted, "but what the hell does this have to do with the jewels?"
"Joe," Frank called, "let him finish. I think I know where he's going with this."
"We came across a large catacomb," Tannen continued, his confidence building, "where several Nazi soldiers were holed up, protecting the room. They didn't want to give up and obviously didn't understand English or the outcome would have been different."
"And that was?"
"They all died, fighting to the end." The man hung his head in grief.
"What were they protecting?" Fenton asked, leaning forward in interest.
"A large cache of paintings, antiques, clothing, you name it, it was there. Our squads separated to look around. Everywhere you looked, there was something. Dom was the one who found the jewels though and I caught him trying to stick them in his pack. The other squad was on the opposite side of the room so they couldn't hear the conversation."
"Did he say why he was trying to steal them?"
"He said that he had an uncle who owned a pawn shop. That his uncle could help sell the jewels to the highest bidder." Tannen paused, shaking his head as he thought about the incident. "Samson was all for it but I wasn't so sure at first. I kept thinking about Ma and how proud she was of me. But then I realized—"
"Realized what?" Frank pressed, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "That stealing would solve everything?"
Joe clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought the urge to yell. But when Tannen mentioned the jewels again, he couldn't hold back any longer. "This is ridiculous! Dad, are you honestly believing him?"
"Yes, I am, Joe. So, you either leave the room or keep your mouth shut!" Fenton yelled, pointing toward the door. He turned back to Tannen. "Do you know where the jewels came from or why they were there?"
"No," Tannen shook his head. "No one ever could figure it out. Even the buyer wouldn't tell us."
"Does he know?"
"I think so. It's why he was so adamant about getting them."
"Who is the buyer?" Frank asked, stepping forward.
"Some German, I think. When he found out there were a few pieces missing, he was furious."
"The necklace and the ring."
"Right. The buyer was the one who told us who bought the jewels."
"So, was he the one who torched the pawn shop?" Fenton asked. Frank looked at him in surprise though he said nothing.
"Maybe. We were told who bought them and to get them back at all cost." Tannen looked pleadingly at Fenton. "I swear no one was supposed to be hurt. Dom was driving the car. We were only going to grab your wife but the ball came out of nowhere."
"Ball?" Frank piped up, his heart pounding as a wave of déjà vu hit him. He remembered the dream, the ball rolling into the street. It wasn't just a dream. His skepticism vanished, replaced by a cold shock." What ball?"
"A ball rolled into the street," he replied. "Dom saw the kid and swerved, hitting Mrs. Hardy. I swear on my Ma it was an accident!"
"Then why didn't you stop?" cried Joe, leaping forward. Fenton stopped him before he could reach Tannen. "You should have stopped!"
"I know!" Tannen yelped, shrinking away from him. "I...I knew of Vincenzo Martinelli's rule through Samson. I couldn't stop or I'd be dead too! They killed Dom because of it!"
"Who did?" Frank asked.
"The German. His money and power stretches far but I still don't know who he really is. The name he gave us was fake."
"Which is?"
"James Olsen."
"Great, a German Superman fan," Joe retorted. "That'll get us far."
Joe's retort earned him a side glance from his father, but Frank didn't seem amused. His mind was elsewhere, processing the information Tannen had just revealed.
"Why didn't you try talking to us after everything settled down?" Fenton inquired.
"I was sent upstate for something I didn't do but it was the only way I could hide from him."
"And afterward?"
"When I got out a few weeks ago, a car was waiting for me. I had to get the jewels back or I was dead, just like Dom. That was when Angelo Biancci got involved. The German made a deal with him but I was still in charge. At least, I thought I was."
"How did you know Frank was in Chicago?"
"Biancci told me. He said a mutual friend informed him but he didn't give a name."
"Frank," Fenton glanced at his son, "do you know anything about this?"
"I think I do," Frank nodded though his eyes were on Tannen. "Why target Nancy though?"
"That wasn't my idea!" Tannen cried, leaning forward. "I was told you were on a plane heading to New York and I was to meet Biancci's men there to get you. Nick was the one who said she was expendable. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt!"
"Then why were you laughing when you drove off?" Frank's voice quivered with the weight of betrayal, his fists clenched on the table as his anger boiled to the surface. The memory played in his mind, more vivid now than ever. "I was right there, Tannen! You saw me!"
"I had to keep up appearances!" Tannen's voice cracked, and his hands fidgeted restlessly on the table. His eyes darted between Frank and Joe, pleading for understanding, but his posture screamed guilt. "After Dom was killed, everything changed. Samson changed. I didn't have control anymore. Nick and Marco had other orders. That girl was going to die no matter what happened!"
"Why?"
"Something about being nosy or finding out about something, I don't know! Alls I know is that she wasn't supposed to live."
"Who ordered it?" Frank demanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. The room seemed to grow smaller as the unanswered question hung between them, thickening the atmosphere with dread.
"I don't know!" Tannen's voice wavered, his face pale. "It could have been Biancci, the German, anyone! But someone wanted her dead. Go ask Biancci! He'll tell you! The German buyer had all the power. I had to follow orders. It was the only way to stay alive."
Frank's chest tightened, anger mixing with the raw ache of the truth. He clenched his fists but stayed silent, his mind racing with all that had just come to light.
Fenton's gaze hardened, locking onto Tannen's. "So, everything—the accident, the kidnapping—was because of your fear of this buyer?"
Tannen nodded, barely able to meet Fenton's eyes. "I didn't have a choice. I swear, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
Joe's voice was cold as ice. "Fear or not, you still made your choice."
Tannen's shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the table. "I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know the truth."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Even Tannen had nothing left to say. The weight of his confession hung in the air, and Frank felt the finality of it—their mother's death, the chaos that followed, all tied to the greed of a man too scared to stand up to a monster.
Fenton rose from his chair slowly, his face unreadable. "You'll have to answer for what you've done, Tannen. But first, we need to find this buyer." He glanced at Frank and Joe. "This isn't over."
As they left the room, Frank paused at the door, glancing back at the man who had changed their lives forever. Tannen's head was bowed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Dad's right," Frank muttered, his voice low but resolute. "It's not over."
And with that, the door closed behind him, sealing Tannen's fate and setting the stage for the storm yet to come.