Joe glanced about the restaurant, and suddenly noted that he was under close scrutiny from the woman behind the front desk. She was eyeing him suspiciously, and as he looked, she muttered something to one of the waitresses. Joe realized that he had been sitting in the restaurant for a long period of time, not ordering anything to eat, and suddenly telephoning people. I guess I’d better do something to start blending into the scenery, he told himself.

Luckily for Joe’s plans, there was an extremely pretty brunette waitress working in the restaurant that morning. She hadn’t been the one waiting on him, but as she passed, he lifted a hand and signaled for yet another cup of coffee – and this time he added a doughnut to his order. When she brought the pastry over to him, he smiled in his most engaging manner.

"Thanks so much. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you any, staying here so long – I was supposed to be meeting someone, but he hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe I got the time wrong, or something." Joe let the smile deepen, extending to his blue eyes. "I’m not sorry he’s late, though…." His voice trailed off suggestively, and he allowed his eyes to flick up and down the girl’s figure the least bit, admiringly. Vanessa would kill me for this, but it’s all in the name of duty, right?

The young brunette blushed at his open scrutiny, and giggled a little. Joe kept on chatting, watching the woman at the desk from the corner of his eye. After a few minutes she shook her head dismissively, evidently deciding he was harmless, and went back to work.

Just as the waitress had returned to her tasks, Joe’s cell phone chimed softly. He snatched it up from where it lay on the table, and flipped it open.

"Yeah?"

"Joe? It’s me." Frank’s familiar voice came over the connection.

"What happened?" Joe tried to keep his voice down, but it sharpened with impatience.

"It was that weird Corporal Walker from yesterday." Frank told him. "Apparently he was jealous about me getting this job – so he broke into my locker, snitched your keys, and put the note in the car. This morning, he was going to do the same thing…they found another note in his pocket. And he admitted to it all. He’s in a lot of trouble now – so much for a cushy job in the Captain’s office!"

"But you don’t think he had anything to do with the – with anything else?" Joe cautiously altered his question, mindful of the others in the restaurant.

"No, I really don’t think he did. This seems to be purely a personal thing." Frank sighed, discouraged. "I have to fill out about a dozen forms, in quadruplicate, about this. I may not get much else done today."

"Well, finding out about your car is something, anyway." Joe consoled him. "I’ll stay here and meet you for lunch, okay? Then we can plan what else to do."

"All right." Frank agreed. "I’ll see you a little after twelve." He cut the connection without saying anything more, and Joe reflectively shut his phone. He suspected Captain Lee might have been somewhere in Frank’s vicinity, hence the hasty disconnection.

Finishing up the last of his doughnut, Joe made a quick visit to the restroom – all the cups of coffee seem to be going straight through! he thought – then returned to his table once more. But before he could think of another excuse to linger in the restaurant, something outside the window caught his attention.

Standing on the sidewalk which ran in front of the MP base, staring at the buildings, was a familiar figure – a tall figure, dressed in dark clothing and a long black coat. His back was now to Joe, but the younger Hardy had no difficulty identifying him as the elusive stranger who had been following them around Bayport for the past several days. If there had been any doubt in Joe’s mind, it was dispelled by the baseball cap still being worn by the man.

This time, Hardy, you’re going to play it cool! Joe told himself. He got casually to his feet, disposed of his newspaper, and bade a friendly farewell to the pretty waitress, telling her he might be back a little later for lunch. All the time, he was keeping an eye on the window, making sure the man wasn’t going to suddenly disappear into thin air, as had been his habit. Joe stepped out of the door, but stayed in the shadow of the overhang, waiting and watching.

Without looking around, the stranger suddenly turned and walked away, moving along the sidewalk with a long, loose stride. Joe removed his hat, and stuffed it into his pocket. Every time he’s seen me, I’ve had this on…maybe if I don’t have it on, he won’t think about having seen me before. He then casually sauntered in the same direction as the mysterious stranger, keeping him well in view, but trying to stay far enough back not to be noticed.

The pursuit continued for several blocks, and the stranger appeared to be heading deeper into the warehouse district. They passed building after building, some still occupied by various businesses; others long abandoned. There wasn’t much pedestrian traffic here, and Joe found himself having to hastily dodge into doorways and around corners more than once, as the tall stranger occasionally turned about. Evidently he was a little nervous about anyone following him.

At last, Joe saw his quarry pause, and pull aside a plywood panel which had been nailed over a warehouse door. The man opened the door, and slipped inside the building, pulling the plywood back into place behind him.

Aha! I’ve tracked you to your hideout! Even as the triumphant thought surfaced, Joe chuckled a little; he sounded like the hero of an old melodrama, even to himself! Keeping a close watch on the door, just in case the man suddenly departed again, Joe walked across the street to an alley. He walked back into it far enough that he couldn’t be easily seen from the street, and settled in to wait it out.

When noontime rolled around and the clock in the downtown courthouse building sounded its mellow chimes over Bayport, Joe remembered his lunch appointment. He hastily punched Frank’s number into his cell phone.

"Frank? I’m sorry, but I can’t meet you for lunch." he began to apologize as soon as his brother answered. "I’ve got that guy with your hat penned up, and I’m not leaving here without finding out what’s going on with him."

"Huh? Him again?" Frank’s surprise was evident.

"He was standing and staring at the MP base…." Joe explained his morning’s activities, concluding. "I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him; if he leaves, I’ll follow him. If you don’t hear from me, meet me here when you get off work, okay?"

"All right. Tell me again exactly where you are."

Joe quickly described his location. Frank promised to be there, and added that he had been asked to lunch with the captain in any event. "I haven’t had any chance to work on the names!" he growled. "I’ve been filling out forms all morning! And I’ve got to keep doing those personnel files, anyway."

"Just do the best you can." Joe advised. "I’ll see you later." He ended the call, and settled in for a long afternoon of surveillance.

*****

By four o’clock, Joe was chilly, tired, and hungry. The mysterious stranger had made no further moves; evidently he’d holed up for an afternoon nap! Joe walked about the alley again, as he had been doing all afternoon, trying to keep limber and warm, and to give himself something to do. I hate stake-outs, I hate surveillance, and I hate this!

Joe reflected on the past few hours, and decided he would have been even colder, but for the friendly intervention of a black mongrel dog. The mutt had trotted past the alleyway, not long after Joe had finished his conversation with his brother. At Joe’s soft whistle, and coaxing sounds, the little dog had changed direction and hesitantly approached his outstretched hand.

It regarded Joe thoughtfully with its watery brown eyes for a few seconds before sniffing his hand and giving it a quick lick. Joe patted it on the head, and having gained its trust, glanced around the alley, looking for a possible plaything. Finding a stick, he began an energetic game of ‘Fetch.’

The game proceeded for half an hour before the dog finally lost interest and wandered away, sniffing the bottom of any obstacles for interesting smells. Evidently finding an irresistible scent, his head shot up, and with one last look back at his new friend, he was off!

After another cold, boring hour, Joe had wished the dog would return, but it hadn’t.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he saw a familiar black car cruise past the alley’s entrance. Frank must have gotten off work early! He watched his brother park his car some distance down the block, then get out and head toward him. A mischievous idea popped into Joe’s head, and he flattened himself against the building, waiting…waiting….

He heard Frank’s footsteps slow down; evidently his brother was unsure just which alley Joe might be in. Then the steps became brisker again, and Frank himself passed the opening. With a swift lunge, Joe leaped out, clapped his hand across his brother’s mouth, and dragged him bodily into the shadowy alley.

"Gotcha!" Joe hissed in his best sinister fashion, but spoiled the effect by bursting into laughter. He released Frank and stepped back. "Did I scare ya?"

"Jeez, Joe! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Frank glared at him furiously. "What were you trying to pull?"

"Just thought it would be fun," Joe replied, still convulsed with laughter. "You should see your face!"

His brother growled, and replied in the deep, raspy tone he’d possessed since the strangulation attempt: "You just wait, little brother – I’ll pay you back for that, some time when you’re least expecting it!" He moved a step or two closer, and squared up, in mock threat.

Joe stopped smirking. "Some people can’t take a joke!’ he muttered, and assumed an expresssion of innocence, gazing at Frank from beneath his eyelashes.

"Just wait," Frank repeated, more quietly, and fixed his brother in place with a penetrating stare Eventually, he released Joe and jerked a thumb in the direction of the boarded-up warehouse. "Is the guy still in there?"

"He hasn’t left by the front entrance," Joe replied. "I suppose there’s a back door, but I couldn’t keep an eye on both front and back."

"Well, let’s each take an entrance, and get in there and find him." the elder brother suggested.

"All right," Joe readily agreed. "I’ll take the front," he offered. "I’ll give you a couple of minutes to get set in back, and then I’ll go in."

But Frank had spotted something, out in the street. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Joe, isn’t that the guy’s car, parked down the block? That rusted-out Buick?"

Joe peered out, and immediately felt like kicking himself. "Yeah, it is! I hadn’t noticed it before!" He slapped his forehead. "What a moron!"

"Don’t worry about that now." In Frank’s brown eyes there danced an imp of evil. "That bag of nails is still in my car. Let’s make sure our lurker can’t tail us by car anymore, hmmm?"

A few minutes later, the two were carefully placing nail after nail beneath the tires of the tan Buick. Some they jammed into the treads of the tires, not wanting to take any chances on their plan not working.

"This will teach that guy not to mess around with us!" Joe muttered under his breath, as he propped nails point-up both behind and before the right rear tire. Suddenly, he began to laugh. "You said that these nails might come in handy," he chuckled.

Frank was laughing too. "Well, I was right, wasn’t I?" He matched Joe’s actions, working on the tires at the front of the Buick. "They’re coming in very handy!"

By the time they were finished, they were both laughing so hard – and endeavoring to keep quiet about it – that they could scarcely stand up. They returned the nearly-empty sack of nails to Frank’s car, then made their way stealthily back to the warehouse.

"Okay, we’re set." Joe composed himself, still grinning. "I’ll take the front, you go in the back – assuming there’s a door…or a window. Give me a few minutes, then follow, okay?"