HDA - Classified Secrets by Cherylann Rivers Introduction

Fenton Hardy watched his sons looking over the ads. He couldn’t help but to be proud of the young men that they had become. He could hardly believe that Frank would be leaving soon for college, and that Joe would be a senior in high school. He was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia for the days when the most excitement that his two boys would have would be which game to play after dinner, and not tracking down terrorists and killers. That thought prompted him to think of his own case again. Try as he might, he could not escape the feeling that as serious as his sons’ case was, his own was practically taunting him, mocking him that he couldn’t break it. With that thought, he decided to look at one of the ads himself from the bed they were sitting on. Somehow, he at least felt productive here, and perhaps, buried somewhere in these ads, there could be an idea that would help him in his own case. After all, as Frank had pointed out, there were some similarities.

"Dad? Is there something on your mind?" This time Fenton realized it was Joe who was looking at him with concern. Am I really that bad at disguising my thoughts? I’ll have to work on that. With a wry smile, Fenton looked at Joe, who had stopped scrutinizing the ads for a moment. In that same glance, he noticed that Frank was struggling to stay awake.

"Um, Joe, why don’t we take these ads and go over them outside. There’s some information that I think you might know."

Joe looked puzzled, and Fenton motioned at Frank with a general nod in his direction. Joe caught the movement, nodded in agreement.

Frank seemed to snap awake at those words. "I’m okay," he mumbled.

"Son, I really think Joe would have some insights here based on his relationship with Vanessa, so let me talk to him first. We’ll use the girls’ room. We’ll be back in a little while. In the meantime, get some rest." Fenton hoped his lie wasn’t too obvious.

Frank looked too tired and drawn to care. "I… want to help," Frank managed, slurring his words a little.

Joe looked at Frank in concern, but then spoke up. "Frank, go to bed. I promise we’ll wake you right away if we find anything. If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll stay right in here. I’m not going to argue with you. Period."

Frank looked from his father to his brother. They had made some strides with the case already, and he knew that they were both more than capable of handling the case. Still, he wanted to help. Despite that, he was beginning to get overwhelmed by exhaustion, the steady pain in his side, and weakness. He had been finding it difficult to concentrate, and he felt hot and cold simultaneously and was smart enough to figure out that wasn’t good. So, hesitating, he finally murmured, "Okay, guys. Stay here. I’ll rest for just a few minutes. Promise to wake me up if you need anything, or find anything,"

"Okay," Joe and Fenton responded at the same time.

Less than five minutes later, Frank was sound asleep. Fenton went to the closet, grabbed an extra blanket, and gently placed it over his son. Then, carefully, he placed a hand on Frank’s forehead, which was warm. He looked down at Frank with worry, and then turned back to Joe. Keeping his voice low, he sat down on the other side of the room with Joe and said, simply, "I’m worried about Frank."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, me too."

Fenton shook his head. "Joe, I don’t mean to worry you more than necessary, but your brother has a fever. He’s very weak, and I think he’s in at least mild discomfort, if not more than that. I’m telling you, son, nothing is more important to me than you and your brother—nothing. I’m giving us no more than a day or two to break this case; if we don’t do it by then, Frank’s going back to the hospital."

"I agree," Joe said shakily. The day was beginning to wear on him. Looking over the ads with his father, Joe asked him, "So, what was bothering you before?"

Fenton didn’t look up from the ads he was looking at. "My case, Joe. I’m just frustrated. It’s the same thing you have—terrorist, he leaves messages, he appears to want to be found—and you know what? For the first time in my life, I can’t find him."

"Well, maybe this case will give you a new perspective."

"That’s what I’m hoping."

"Yeah, that’s good. I just—" Joe paused. "I just hope beyond anything, dad, that Vanessa’s alright."

"I know, son. I’ll do anything I can to help her. That’s why we need to understand these ads. So, let’s start with what we know."

Joe sighed. "Okay. We know the high schools are all connected, and the pattern is in high schools across the U.S., which should represent the whole U.S. symbolically."

"Good. And you know that there’s some encoded message that says something about "someday" and perhaps "being" or something to that effect."

Joe continued on his father’s thought. "We also know that ‘SWM’ stood for the first high school attacked, that this person has some sort of fixation for Cinderella, that there’s some connections to ‘secret chambers of the heart’- whatever that means, and that he or she has to be rich—national ads aren’t cheap."

Now Fenton was gaining momentum. It felt good to work with Joe. Although he had always been a tad closer to Frank and more like him in many ways, he had always admired his younger son’s enthusiasm and work effort. Joe was a lot smarter than he often gave himself credit for. "Yes, Joe. The person must be wealthy. Also, look at the attacks—what are they? Meningitis, a rare strain. So…"

"So the person might be in the medical field or have access to it, somehow—so he or she must be pretty powerful," Joe interjected. He was beginning to feel his creative juices flow. He had missed that feeling.

"Joe, this is very good, but this is all the old information. Let’s start with something new. Okay, let’s look at the first lines of each ad." Together, they peered at the lines from the past ads.

507 ways of smiling

509 ways you like to dance

511 red roses in your dream garden

520 flowers surrounding you

"Okay," Fenton began. "What should strike you immediately about these lines?" he asked Joe.

Joe was perplexed by the words, and he told his father so. "Dad, there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the messages."

"I agree. But what IS there a rhyme and reason to- maybe?"

Joe saw it. "The numbers! They’re all in the 500 range, and they seem to be in a pretty close range."

"Yes! That’s what I saw. I don’t get it yet, either, but let’s keep that thought in mind. Okay, now!" Fenton was getting excited. He had missed being useful for so long. "Let’s look at the second lines."

9 times of 12 you’ll say you love me

10 times of 12 you’ll treat me to surprises

11 times of 12 you give smiles for no reason

12 times of 12 you set off fireworks in my heart

This time, it was Joe who spoke first. "Hey, dad! If you look at the numbers again, this must be sequence or something. Whatever it is, it has happened or will happen twelve times. Maybe the earlier ads…"

"Exactly what I was thinking!" Fenton exclaimed. "Hold on! I’ll be right back!" Within minutes, Fenton had managed to find a few scattered ads from weeks earlier he had managed to pick up but hadn’t looked through. Sure enough, in sequential order, there were other ads, which ran numerically ‘7 of 12’, ‘8 of 12’ and so on. Joe and Fenton looked at each other. They were onto something, but what was it?

At that moment, Frank stirred. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than 15 or 20 minutes, but apparently Joe and Fenton had been a little louder than necessary in their enthusiasm. Weakly, he opened his eyes, and, shakily, managed to sit up, although he looked like he would collapse. Involuntarily, Joe jumped up to try and catch his brother’s fall.

"Joe," Frank said softly, "I’m not going to fall. I want to help." He rubbed his temples, fighting off dizziness. "You promised to let me."

Joe looked at his dad, who nodded reluctantly. Joe then filled Frank in on what they had discovered thus far, and then he brought the papers to Frank’s bed, where he and his father then followed.

"Cool," Frank managed with a small smile. "That sounds like a break. Where were you up to?"

"The third lines," Joe answered his brother. As sick as Frank was, Joe had to admit he could use his insight at the moment.

"Okay, then. Let’s figure this out." They peered at the lines in front of them again.

love Lucky Charms

love big pepperoni pies

love French fries and English muffins?

Let’s have a parade, for you’ll light up my life!

"I have to admit, I have no ideas here," Fenton exclaimed at last. "These seem totally haphazard."

"But they’re not," Frank interjected, "because they’re in a sequential order in the ads. They must mean something!"

"Could the "L’s" be significant? They all start with that," Joe tried.

"Could be," answered Fenton, "Although it’s a stretch. Then again, what isn’t in this case?"

After about ten more minutes of hypothesizing and guessing at random, Fenton and his sons were at a loss. Fenton laid back across the bed and stared at the ceiling. What could it mean?

"Hey!" Joe said. "All this talk in these ads of food is making me hungry. Look! French fries, English muffins, pizza. That’s it! Let’s order a pizza. I could go for some Italian!"

"Oh my God! That’s it!" Frank shouted. Fenton immediately sat up. Whatever it was that could make Frank shout in his condition had to be worth something.

"Dad! Joe! Look! The ads have nothing to do with food. They look like places! The first one- the Lucky Charms one- what is that? Ireland! The pizza is Italy. What’re the others? England? France? I don’t get the fireworks one, but…."

Fenton gasped out loud. No! It couldn’t be! Was it?!

The boys looked at their father, whose face had turned ashen.

"Dad! What’s the matter?" Joe grabbed his father before he fell to the floor.

"Joseph!" He managed at last. "Get me those ads! Now!" Joe quickly gathered them and handed them to his father. "Oh, God! Oh, God! I see it now! MY GOD!"

"What?" Frank asked, panicked. His father never acted this way.

Fenton started to tremble. The possibility of this happening was miniscule, but it HAD happened.

"Boys!" Fenton began. He had to make them understand, and then they could help him with the final piece. "Don’t you see? Frank is right. The first place is Ireland. The second is Italy. The third is NOT France or England—it’s Canada, where in the city that was just bombed, they speak English AND French! Boys- this is MY case, too! These are the terrorist bombings, I think! Look at the first parts of the ads again!"

"What could the numbers in the 500s be?" Joe questioned excitedly.

"I get it! Dad—do you see? They’re dates!!! 5/7, 5/9, 5/11, and 5/20. Do those dates sound right to you?" Frank asked, eager to test his theory.

"L…let me check." Fenton flipped open his planner. "Yes! Yes! That’s it! Except…."

"Except 5/20 didn’t happen yet! That’s today!" Joe blurted, already feeling the consequences of his words.

"Boys," Fenton spoke forcefully. "We need to break this code, right away, if we can avert another tragedy. Then we need to figure out HOW and WHY these cases are connected."

"Have there been 11 other bombings?" Frank questioned.

"Yes, I think so. Remember I told you we’ve been working on this for months? No one realized how serious it was at first because the bombings were much smaller at the time."

"Dad! I just thought of something else," Joe interrupted. "That Latin motto- the ‘ad corda’ part. That means "to the heart" doesn’t it? Or, couldn’t it mean…"

"Secret chambers of the heart!" Frank and Fenton said together.

"Yes!" Joe explained in both excitement and dread. "That’s the ‘heart’ of this organization, and the heart on which the insignias were written. The ‘secret chambers’ must be the secret members or something. We already know the other part talks about tyrants, which is self-explanatory. Don’t forget what they said, too. "Be forewarned and forearmed"- they were mocking the police, the international community, and everyone else, announcing their targets and telling the world that they weren’t afraid."

"So what’s the next target?" Frank asked.

"Son, that’s what we need to find out, now! It’s getting late already. Look, look closely- tell me what you boys think!"

Joe’s heart began to pound. Vanessa was in grave danger. Suddenly, he found it hard to concentrate. Not now, not now! he prayed.

Frank spoke up first. "Okay. The first part of the ads mention the following things: smiling, dancing, dream gardens, and flowers. The second part mentions smiles again, but also love, surprises, and fire works. The last one, where is should be announced, says "parade" and "you light up my life." How are they connected?"

Frank and Fenton’s minds were working in overdrive, and they were coming up empty. Then, Joe had an epiphany. It was the most clear thing in the world, and he had no idea why no one else could see it. His heart dropped as soon as he realized it. "No! No! No!" he shouted, getting up and running to the window. "Dad! Help! We have to help Vanessa! Now!"

Joe felt like he couldn’t breathe. Tears welled up in his eyes and began to stream down his face. Frank froze, stunned. Fenton went to get up, but Joe just shouted, "No!"

"What? What, Joe, do you see?! Tell me!"

"Dad!" Joe choked out. "Don’t you see it? It’s been here all along! Where else would everyone be smiling and happy? Where are parades and fireworks held? Where are there gardens and surprises and flowers? Dad!" Joe was sobbing now. "Don’t you get it? The U.S. is the next target. And guess where? Where else would Cinderella have her ball? Why didn’t I see it? The ball, the glass slipper, the TWELVE, dad? The stroke of midnight!" He glanced at his watch. "Dad, in less than four hours, Disney World specifically Cinderella’s Castle, will be bombed!" He grabbed the papers off the bed and threw them. "And whatever it is, it’s big, because it’s the "FINAL, REAL" deal, with the final Princess, at the "HEART" of innocence!

"We have to save Vanessa!" he cried.

"And thousands of others," Fenton shouted

"In under four hours.," Frank added in dread.

The silence that followed was by the sound of the grandfather clock in the room. The chimes began. It was now 8:00. The clock ticked…..

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation, The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow them without express permission of the authors.