HDA - Classified Secrets by Cherylann Rivers Introduction

At 7:00 the next morning, Frank jogged up the stairs to Joe’s room and knocked on the door. When he didn’t get a response, he opened it. There was Joe, lying in bed, sound asleep. Frank sighed. Already, as usual, he had been up for several hours, exercised, showered, and was getting ready to speak with his father and to get breakfast. Joe could be unbelievable at times. Frank was about to walk over to Joe’s bed and get him up when he found himself tripping over some piece of clothing or something Joe had left on the floor. With an "UPH!", he landed right on top of Joe.

"What? What’s going on?" Joe mumbled, surprised, as he sat up in bed and tried to wipe the ‘sleep’ from his eyes.

Frank, agitated, smacked Joe’s leg, hard.

"Hey!" he growled, suddenly awake.

"Get up!"

"You’re a grump in the morning!"

Frank took a deep breath to remain calm. "Joe, you really have to clean your room. It’s a pig’s sty. If I can keep mine clean, I see no reason…"

"Oh, shut up, MOM. Listen to yourself. I’d hate to be your kid." With that, Joe plopped back down on the bed.

"Anyway," Frank continued on, ignoring Joe, "you seriously do have to get up. It’s 7:00. The girls will be here soon, and you need time to take a shower."

"I don’t know if I need one. I took one yesterday."

"Believe me, you do."

Joe shot his brother a dirty look. Sarcasm was generally his area of specialty, not his brother’s. "I’m still not happy that the girls are going. Chalk another one up to Frank gets suckered by Callie."

Frank was getting angry. "Just get up! Don’t start with me, or Callie, for that matter. You know, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even be seeing Iola right now."

Joe refrained form his comment and bit his tongue, for once. "Yeah, well, it’ll be good to see her, at least. Remember, if we find anything, we go back tomorrow, when they’re out of danger, okay?"

"Yes."

"Well, get out of here, then. I need to improve on my natural good looks, if that’s possible."

Frank smiled at last. "Work on your modesty while you’re at it." With that, he left the room.

Going downstairs, Frank couldn’t help but to reflect on Joe’s attitude. Although he was characteristically sunny, Frank could tell that Joe was apprehensive about seeing Iola. From what he could gather from Callie and Joe, Iola and Joe had spoken a few times, mostly when Iola had been able to sneak calls out. Joe felt badly about going behind the Morton’s backs, but Iola had supposedly insisted that they’d get over their trepidation about the relationship in time. So, until then, if they had to sneak around, then so be it. Frank didn’t particularly like any of this. Too many secrets! He couldn’t tell Joe about Callie’s personal ads with Vanessa. Joe and Iola couldn’t be open about their relationship. He couldn’t tell Callie about his dad’s case. When, Frank thought, did honesty become obsolete?

As he came down the stairs to the kitchen, Frank waited for his dad to come in. At the same time, he picked up the morning paper and immediately flipped to the Classifieds section, where the personals were located. As he did this, he simultaneously murmured to himself, "I can’t believe Callie has me reading this stuff!" He flipped to the ad he was looking for, and which he knew Vanessa was probably responding to as well. He soon came to it. This morning’s ad was a bit different. It read

"SWM seeking SF.

Prince Charming still seeking his Princess.

Today, you must have the following qualities:

509 ways you like to dance

10 times of 12 you’ll treat me to surprises

love big pepperoni pies

believe in secret chambers of the heart.

Are you my Cinderella?"

Shaking his head, Frank still thought the ad was just off in some way. Yes, some of the others were silly. He doubted that there were too many Tom Cruise lookalikes, for example, but this one, and the story behind it, just looked too different from the others. "Well, I guess it shouldn’t bother me," he said softly to himself. "Apparently it’s working because this guy has a lot of women to choose from!"

"Son, are you still talking to yourself? I told you that you should have gotten therapy for that years ago," Fenton Hardy said with a small smile as he entered the kitchen. His mother followed close behind.

"Oh, Fenton, be nice," Laura Hardy said, giving her eldest son a quick peck on the head as she went to pour herself some coffee.

"Hi Mom. Hi Dad. What’s up?" Then, Frank noticed that his father was dressed in a suit, and had a suitcase nearby. "Where’re you going?" Frank questioned his father.

Fenton Hardy looked disturbed. "Frank, I told you a bit about the case I was working on. Although I’ve tried to do a lot of work from home, things, as you can tell, are getting very serious. I’m going to Ireland in…" he looked at his watch "exactly one and a half hours. There is huge international pressure to get this case solved, and the United Nations is sending some of its specialists as well. Hundreds and hundreds of people have died in these terrorist attacks. We have to stop it."

"Yeah, Callie and I were watching the news the other day. They mentioned that Latin slogan that the group uses. It looks serious."

Fenton Hardy was perturbed. "They mentioned that?"

Frank looked up. "Yeah, why?"

Fenton looked down at Frank. "Come on, son. You know the answer to that. It’s the same reason why certain groups, like the Network, can’t reveal their identity."

Laura Hardy coughed. Both Frank and Fenton looked at her. "I can take a hint that I’m not supposed to hear this." She smiled. "I’ll leave." Turning to her husband, she merely said, "I’d tell you to be careful, but then I’d only repeat what I’ve been telling you the past twenty years. Get home safely." She kissed him goodbye, and then left the room.

"Uh, dad?" Frank asked his father. "You were saying?"

Fenton looked puzzled, but then seemed to clear his head. "Oh, yes. Frank, you can’t announce what a terrorist group says, no matter how innocuous it may seem to be. You never know if there’s some thinly veiled reference to- well, something-that other terrorists want to know. Obviously, the first parts of the phrase are pretty straightforward. Have you thought about them? What do they mean to you?"

Frank paused a moment, as Joe cam bounding into the kitchen. Apparently, he had been standing there for a few moments, because he seemed ready to jump into the conversation.

"I’ve got it!" he said, taking Frank’s bagel from his plate and popping it into his mouth. Frank just stared at him, while Joe chewed. Fenton hid a smile. One of these days his mild-mannered, even-keeled elder son was going to lose it with his impetuous sibling. Fenton was surprised it hadn’t happened yet.

"Good morning, son."

"Yeah, dad, you too. But listen!"

Fenton kept a straight face. "Yes?"

"The first part of the Latin saying is pretty obvious. It’s like this group, whomever they are, are announcing that their intentions are purposeful. That’s where the ‘forewarned’ comes in. It also is saying that they’re not afraid. They’re challenging, even kind of mocking, these various governments, telling them to be armed and ready for them. Still, no one can catch them!" With that, he took the other part of Frank’s bagel and munched away.

Fenton was impressed. "That’s right, Joe. Very good."

Joe, happy at his dad’s approval, went further. "And the tyrant thing- well, that shows they’re evil."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Duh, Joe."

"Whatever. You’re just jealous about my intellectual prowls."

"Prowess."

"Whatever."

Fenton smiled.

"No, dad." Frank continued. "I think there’s more to it than that. I mean, what is a tyrant? Someone who usurps power."

"What does that mean? Use normal words," Joe grumbled. He knew he was smart, but sometimes Frank made him feel stupid, even though he knew Frank didn’t mean to. Well, he paused, most of the time anyhow.

"It means to take power by force."

"Oh. Okay. Continue."

Frank did. "Tyrants take power, as these people are doing. The inference is that whomever they take will be subjugated…" he looked at Joe "ah, forced to be subjects, or slaves, to, this master organization, ultimately. I don’t really understand the last part."

"Nor do I. Hmmm. That’s interesting, though.. Almost as though a master race or structure is being set up. I’ll think about that angle. Good point, Frank."

Joe coughed. "Um, you too, Joe. Very insightful."

Joe smiled smugly. Frank just sighed inwardly.

"Now, before I go, what are you boys up to these days?"

Joe answered. "We figured we’d check out the high schools where.."

Frank interrupted, "Where, ah, we’re going to be playing the All-Star tournament. You know, check out the fields, hit some fly balls, the norm."

Joe looked at Frank. He got the hint, but he had no idea why Frank wasn’t telling their father the truth. A moment later, there was a sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. Fenton looked out the window, and cast a surprised look at his sons. "Oh," he said, dryly. "That’s why Callie and Iola are here, I suppose. To catch for you."

Before either one of his sons could respond, Fenton raised his hand to stop them. "You know what? I really don’t even want to know. I hope to see you soon. I’ll call you in a few days. Take care of mom and Aunt Gertrude. Be careful, whatever you two are scheming." With that , he picked up his suitcase. "Try not to kill each other. Love you."

With those words, he was off.

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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.