When Frank got behind the wheel, Joe gave him an anxious look. Despite the fact that Frank had eaten his breakfast with no apparent trouble, and insisted that he felt ‘fine, thank you very much,’ Joe wasn’t absolutely positive that his older brother was adequately recovered from the trauma of two nights before. His voice was still raspy, for one thing, and he coughed occasionally – symptoms Joe couldn’t overlook.

Frank finally was provoked into an irritated response to Joe’s unspoken – but very evident – anxiety. "Stop staring at me like I’m going to melt, or something." He glanced about, and accelerated smoothly away from the curb. "I’ll be fine; stop worrying so much."

After a few minutes of driving, however, Frank felt a frisson of unease – not physical unease, but mental. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Yep, there it is again! He’d noticed there seemed to be a car trailing behind them. It was an old car, adorned with so many dings, dents, and rust patches that it seemed the paint was the only thing keeping the vehicle in one piece. However, he noted, it was a model with a powerful engine. Even if it wasn’t in great condition, it was having no trouble keeping pace with Frank’s small Saturn.

"Don’t turn around, but I think we may have picked up a tail." Frank announced uneasily, still keeping an eye on the rearview mirror.

Joe stiffened. "Where?" he asked, and pulled down the sun visor. He adjusted it so that the vanity mirror reflected the traffic behind them.

"There’s an old tan Buick Regal, about three cars behind. It seems to have been following us since we left the B & B."

"Are you sure?" Joe asked, now seeing for the first time the car his brother was talking about. "That piece of junk?"

"Pretty positive – but let’s make sure." Frank flipped the turn signal and veered right, watching as the mystery car did the same. Seeing a hardware store with mirrored windows, he pulled up in front, deciding to follow a hunch. "I just remembered; I need to buy some nails." he announced, and climbed out of the car with a mystified Joe following suit.

As they entered the store, they noted, unseen through the window, that the mysterious vehicle had parked just down the street, but the driver remained concealed in his car. Frank walked to the back of the store, and began scooping two-inch, galvanized nails into a small paper bag, then carried his purchase to the checkout counter.

"You never know when these could come in handy." he grinned at Joe, hefting the bag in his palm.

Joe snickered, then managed to pull his face straight. "Yes, I’ve been meaning to get some myself."

They got back into the car and drove on, observing the significance of the other vehicle pulling into traffic behind them again.

"I think we can confidently assume this guy is following us," Frank muttered. "Hold on a sec, I’ve got an idea." He waited until traffic was relatively clear in the next lane and their pursuer was hemmed in by two other cars; then he swiftly pulled into the next lane – and immediately slowed down.

Unable to escape and having to go with the flow of traffic, the mystery vehicle rapidly caught up to the Hardys. It drew alongside, and both Frank and Joe peered in, attempting to see who the other driver was. He kept his head slightly turned away from them, as he sped up and pulled ahead, but Joe saw enough to recognize him. It was the man he had chased, the one who had been in the army surplus store and who had returned to talk to the proprietor after Joe left. He was now wearing sunglasses – and he was still wearing Frank’s baseball cap! They could see dark brown hair sticking out from beneath the tightly fitting rim.

"Is that the guy you’ve been chasing all over town?" Frank asked, recognizing his own hat.

Joe was growing angry. "Yes, and I’m sure he’s only wearing your hat to rub it in about what happened to you!" he growled.

"Don’t jump to radical conclusions – although I’d like to speak to him about that, myself." Frank increased his speed slightly. "Let’s see if we can’t persuade him to stop and talk." The other car accelerated too, and then turned sharply left, cutting across the lanes of oncoming traffic. Frank did the same, hoping there were no police around to observe his foolhardy action. Drivers in other cars slammed on their brakes and honked their horns angrily.

Joe grabbed a pen and paper from the glove compartment, and hastily jotted down the other vehicle’s license number. Although the plate had been smeared with mud in an attempt to obscure the lettering, it was still readable. "Probably of no use, but still worth running through the system." he muttered.

Their stalker made his way speedily to the outskirts of town, where the surroundings gradually shifted from businesses to residential. There were fewer cars around now, and both the Hardys and the stranger put on more speed. Although Frank kept easy pace with the battered car in front of them, he found it impossible to pass. Every time he made any sort of move to draw level, the other guy swerved his vehicle across in front of them.

"Actually," Frank admitted reluctantly, "this guy’s not bad. He’s anticipated every one of my moves so far….If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s had the advantage of the same advanced training we’ve had."

"Quick, now, he’s left you an opening!" Joe suddenly yelped, and braced his hand against the dash.

Frank pushed the accelerator toward the floor – the speedometer needle slowly creeping upwards – edged around the battered Buick and blasted up alongside. The mystery driver had made a mistake; he’d mistimed his swerve, and given Frank the opportunity he craved to get beside him. Frank knew that to get them out of the way now, the other driver would have to side-slam the Saturn, which would put him in danger too. Despite his love for his own car, it was a gamble Frank was willing to take.

Suddenly, without warning, the other driver slammed on his brakes, and with tires shrieking and smoking, came to an abrupt halt. Taken by surprise, Frank let the Saturn travel on for some distance before he jammed on his own brakes. Twisting in their seats, the Hardys could see their stalker’s hands frantically rotating his steering wheel. The old Buick did a 180-degree spin, and took off in the opposite direction. Seconds later, it turned off onto a residential side street, and backfired once before roaring away.

Joe pounded the dashboard in frustration. "I can’t believe we lost him again!"

"That was some maneuver!" Frank admitted, admiringly. "You did get the license number, right?"

"Yeah – right." Joe muttered, still disgusted.

By the time Frank got his car reversed to follow, the other vehicle was no longer in sight. Although they cruised about for some time, they were unable to pick up his trail. Once more the mysterious stranger had eluded them.

"We may as well give up for now, and get on with the day." Frank admitted at last. He headed for the area of town where the engraver’s shop was located, intending to drop Joe off before he went to the MP base; however, he took a circuitous route, to avoid the possibility of picking up the tail again.

Joe was still angry. "I am gonna catch up to that guy and freaking clobber him!" he fumed.

"Why?" his brother asked, reasonably. "He hasn’t done anything that we know of – other than drive us nuts, and stick his nose in, I mean."

Joe didn’t want to admit it, but the ease with which the stranger kept escaping them made him madder than anything else. He didn’t reply to Frank’s question; he merely sat and sulked the rest of the way.

"I’ll call you after I’ve talked to the engraver," he said, as he got out of the Saturn a few minutes later. Frank nodded in acknowledgement.

"I’ll talk to you later, then – and I’ll see you back at the Bennetts’ place. You’ll take a taxi, or something?" Frank inquired belatedly. Joe nodded, stepped back from the car, and waved him off, and Frank pulled back into traffic.

It wasn’t far to the new Military Police base. Frank gazed with interest at it as he pulled into the short driveway. Originally warehouses and factories which had lain empty and derelict for years, they had now been razed to the ground, and a new facility for the military police erected in their stead.

Frank eased the Saturn up to the small guard house, and stopped before the lowered barrier. The uniformed guard opened his little window.

"Name?" he inquired briskly.

"Andy Harris." Frank replied. "I’m here for an appointment with a Captain Lee—about a work experience job."

The guard consulted his list. "Yep, here you are. Go on in—" he touched a button to raise the barricade. "—and park anywhere in this lot to your right." He leaned out the little window and pointed. "Go through the main entrance, and you’ll find Captain Lee’s office is listed on the board beside the elevators." He smiled, then. "I’ll call ahead," he offered, "and tell him you’re on your way in."

"Thanks." Frank nodded his appreciation, and drove into the parking lot. He walked the short distance to the large glass entrance doors, and entered.

He found he was in a lobby, with an information desk located centrally – however, no one was currently manning the desk. Stepping over to the banks of elevators, Frank began scanning down the lists of posted names, looking for Captain Lee’s. He reached to push the elevator button, then jumped slightly when, before he’d even signaled, there was a chime and the doors slid apart.

A well-built uniformed man emerged, about 5’10", with iron-gray hair and cool blue eyes. His posture was ramrod-straight and his bearing seemed to shriek career military! Something about him reminded Frank of Chief Ezra Collig.

"Andy Harris?" The man inquired, and extended his hand for Frank to shake. "I’m Captain Lee." He smiled broadly, and the resemblance to Chief Collig abruptly disappeared; Collig never had looked so friendly and approachable! "I’m glad you’re here. Con Riley spoke very highly of you."

"Thank you, sir." Frank found his hand enveloped in the captain’s warm grip. "That’s nice to hear."

"Come along up to my office," Captain Lee invited, putting his hand against the back of Frank’s shoulder as he entered the elevator, and pressing the Up button.

Once seated in Lee’s spacious office, Frank looked around curiously. It seemed to be just like any other office, he decided. Computer and printer, telephones, fax machine, lots of file cabinets. Framed certificates hung on the walls, along with photographs of various groups of people in military uniforms.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Harris." Captain Lee invited, settling himself behind his desk. As he listened, he leaned across the table and picked up a stack of paper from the printer tray.

Frank proceeded to list the college courses he had taken which had to do with judicial systems and law enforcement, plus his computer knowledge. He told the captain that although he had first intended on going into police work, he had recently decided that a stint in the armed services might be interesting, and that he thought his school courses might make him a candidate for the Military Police. "Con Riley was great to give me this recommendation to you!" he finished, enthusiastically.

As he had been talking, Captain Lee had been both listening to his recital and simultaneously flipping each piece of paper over in turn, glancing down at each sheet as he went. Frank wasn’t slow to notice that each sheet of paper was completely blank. Whatever Captain Lee had been trying to print hadn’t copied. The Captain’s hand strayed across to his mouse, and he started clicking – he was beginning to look irritated. Finally, Frank was moved to ask:

"Captain Lee, it looks like you’re having trouble with something. Is there anything I might be able to help you with?"

Lee gave him a rueful glance. "Son, if you can, I’d be forever grateful. I want – " he emphasized, "—it to print a spreadsheet, but I’m damned if it’s going to cooperate! It keeps spitting hundreds of sheets of blank paper out, instead of just printing what I want!"

Frank rose to his feet, and walked around the desk so that he could see the monitor. Looking over the captain’s shoulder at the VDU, he clicked on the "print preview" button, and immediately saw what the problem was.

"Oh, I see what’s happening. You haven’t set the print area." He highlighted the entire spreadsheet Captain Lee had been working on, and selected Print/Print Area/Set Print Area from the pull-down menu. He pressed ‘okay’ and a running line appeared around the highlighted table. With a flourish, Frank hit ‘print,’ and a single sheet chugged out, bearing the image of the desired table – and no pesky blank sheets followed. "You see, Captain, if the print area isn’t selected, the computer unfortunately recognizes each blank cell as a valid entry, and will print those out – thousands of them." he explained calmly.

Captain Lee was grinning from ear to ear. "Mr. Harris, you’ve proved your worth to me right here and now."

Frank smiled back, warming even more to the captain.

"As you can see, I need someone with your computer know-how! If you’re available, I’d like to offer you a week’s work experience, with more time negotiable if we’re still happy with each other at the end of the week. How does that sound to you? And when can you start?"

Wow! It was that easy? Frank exulted to himself. This is going to be a stroll in the park! Aloud, he said: "That would be great, Captain! I can start right away—today, even!"