"Frank?" He shook Frank’s arm gently. "Frank, wake up a minute."

"Hmmm?" Frank turned his head, but didn’t open his eyes. "Lemme sleep," he slurred.

"Just open your eyes for a minute," Joe coaxed. "Then you can go back to sleep."

"Pest…." Frank reluctantly opened his eyes. "Satisfied?" he croaked. "Now…go away…." He was nearly asleep again even as he spoke.

Joe grinned a little, snuggled a blanket about himself, and curled into the easy chair. His eyes slid closed….

*****

Soft sounds of movement roused the sleeping Joe, hours later. He didn’t move, unwilling to disturb his relative comfort, although he suspected he was going to be cramped from his night curled in the chair. One of his legs was dangling over the arm, and his foot was cold. He slitted his eyelids open, and saw Frank cautiously easing his way out of bed.

Concerned for his brother’s welfare, Joe was about to stir and offer help, but he could see that Frank appeared to be steady on his feet, so remained silent, realizing he might resent too much coddling.

The elder Hardy made his way slowly to the bathroom, gingerly fingering the sore spot on the back of his head. On his return, he paused in front of the dresser and stared at himself in the mirror. He tugged at the neck of his t-shirt, evidently examining himself for signs of his previous night’s struggle with the masked intruder – the man he didn’t remember, but whose finger marks showed up with disturbing clarity on his throat.

"Jeez…" The words were a ragged whisper, evidently not meant for Joe’s ears. "Megan’s gonna freak." Frank heaved a deep, morose sigh, then turned and slowly made his way back to the bed. He lay back against the pillows, rubbing fretfully at his forehead, and pulled the blanket over himself once more.

Joe decided it was time to wake up. He wriggled a bit, then stretched and yawned ostentatiously. "Morning…" he mumbled, looking over at the bed and tucking his cold foot into the blanket.

"Morning," Frank rasped in return. "You didn’t have to sit there all night, you know," he went on, somewhat waspishly. "I was just fine."

"Con was using my bed," Joe made an excuse. He stood up, flexing his shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I’ve been hit over the head and then choked." Frank grated. "My head’s killing me."

Joe winced in sympathy. "Want some more aspirin? And are you hungry?"

"Yes, to the first, No to the second." Frank laid his arm across his eyes. "Don’t make me talk, huh? It hurts."

Duly reprimanded, Joe slunk into the bathroom and fetched another dose of pain reliever. Frank, wishing he’d thought to take some when he was in the bathroom himself, swallowed the tablets gratefully, then sank back into his pillows once more

Realizing that their breakfasts were probably being served downstairs, the younger Hardy nipped across the hall and got some clean clothes, deciding that since they were paying for breakfast, he might as well eat it. He found Con Riley already awake, and poring over information on Frank’s laptop, his ruggedly handsome face lit up with the blue glow from the screen.

"Finding anything, Con?" Joe inquired as he pulled on a clean shirt.

"Mmmm….maybe." the lieutenant murmured, without taking his eyes from the screen. "Ask me again in a little bit."

"I’m going to go down and get some breakfast," Joe told him. "I’m sorry, but I can’t exactly bring any up to you; you’re not officially here—"

Con shrugged his shoulders.

"—and Frank doesn’t want anything." Joe added.

Now Con’s attention shifted to Joe. "How is Frank this morning?" he asked.

"Better, but he says his head’s killing him, and his throat still hurts. I got him some more aspirin, and I think he’s going to sleep a while longer."

"All right, I won’t disturb him, then." Riley said. "By the time you’re finished with breakfast, I may have something for you on that lighter emblem." He returned his gaze to the screen, and began tapping keys again. Joe departed.

A half hour later, he returned up the stairs. Making excuses for Frank, saying that he had a severe headache, had prompted their hostess to provide a breakfast tray, which Joe now carried. If Frank doesn’t want it, Con can eat it! he thought with a grin. He cautiously opened Frank’s door first.

"Hey…" his brother said hoarsely, as Joe entered. To Joe’s surprise, Frank was wide awake, propped half-sitting up, and he managed a rather wan smile.

"Mrs. Bennett sent you some breakfast," Joe explained the tray. "But if you’re still not feeling hungry, Con’ll probably appreciate having it."

Frank blinked. "He’s still here?"

Joe gave him a keen look. "You having memory problems again?"

"No," Frank frowned. "I know he spent the night; I just thought he might have left already."

At that moment, there was a tap on the door, and Con himself stuck his head into the room. "I think I’ve found it—" He paused. "Do I smell bacon?"

Joe chuckled and held up the tray invitingly. "You can fight Frank for it." he grinned.

Riley entered the room, closing the door carefully behind him. "How you feeling this morning, Frank?" he asked the elder Hardy, with concern.

"Better, thanks." Frank answered raspingly. "Go ahead and eat it, Con; I’m not hungry."

"Thanks." The lieutenant sat down at the side table and uncovered the tray. "Mmmm….I think I’ve found the emblem," he continued in a moment, with his mouth full of blueberry muffin. "It’s the 25^th Military Police Company insignia."

"Military Police," Joe breathed. "That would account for all the globe-hopping, wouldn’t it? Someone in the armed services could travel all over the place, on one pretext or another, if he worked it right."

"That’s right." Con affirmed. "Of course, it’s a slim lead, but—"

"—but it’s better than nothing, and nothing is what we had, until now." Joe finished for him. "That’s great!"

"There’s a division of the military police located here in Bayport," Con continued. "And I know one of the men who works there. I was thinking that perhaps one of you might want to do a short work experience stint with the MP’s—" his blue eyes twinkled as he made the suggestion. "—and see what you can find out." He glanced from one brother to the other. "Frank, with the college courses you’re taking, you’d be more convincing than Joe. I can probably arrange it – that is, if you think you’d feel up to it."

"All right," Frank agreed. "But not today, Con. I think I’m going to spend the day in bed, if it’s all the same to you.

"Tomorrow then, or Monday." Riley said, and went on eating contentedly. "I’ll see about making the arrangements today, though."

"While you’re doing that, I’ll go down to the Army-Navy surplus stores and see if I can get a line on the lighter." Joe offered. "Maybe our mysterious guy bought it here. I’m going to grab a shower, and then be off."

"And I should go too, after I finish this." Riley chimed in. "Frank, you’ll be okay here by yourself?"

"I’ll be fine," the elder Hardy assured him. "I’m going to sleep all day."

"Well, do me a favor, and lock the door after Joe’s gone."

"I was planning to."

*****

At just past ten o’clock, Joe strolled into one of the two military surplus stores Bayport afforded. After a first glance, he suspected this one wasn’t going to get him anyplace; it was a small establishment, and seemed to have only racks of camouflage-print pants and shirts, an assortment of boots, and a back section devoted to weaponry.

Although tempted to spend some time looking through the assorted guns, knives and other paraphernalia, Joe contented himself with a quick scan of the clothing racks. He saw no evidence of small items, such as cigarette lighters, so didn’t stay long.

Once out on the sidewalk again, Joe sauntered casually towards the next store, which was located a few blocks away. While waiting at a corner for the light to change, he suddenly felt the strange, prickly sensation that warned him he was under observation. Very slowly, he turned his head, apparently just glancing around at the scenery, then turned it in the opposite direction. Nothing unusual evidenced itself. Guess I’m just spooking again.

The second surplus store was much larger, and Joe spotted a glass case containing, among other things, cigarette lighters, as soon as he walked in the door. He hurried toward the counter and eagerly examined the contents of the case.

"Help you with something?" A balding, middle-aged man walked toward him from the back of the store.

"I’m trying to locate someone—" Joe fished in his pocket and drew out the lighter, placing it lightly on the glass. "He dropped this lighter, and I’d like to return it to him. I didn’t know his name, but I thought I might be able to trace him through this…?"

The man picked up the lighter and examined it closely. "This one’s been around for years…we do sell them, though I can’t say that it was purchased here, of course."

"But it might have been?" Joe asked, with excitement. At last, a concrete lead! "Have you sold any of them recently, do you remember?"

"I’d have to look it up." the proprietor said, discouragingly. Then he relented. "But if you could describe the guy you’re looking for, maybe it would joggle my memory."

Uh-oh, now what do I do? I can’t exactly say "he was dressed in black and wearing a mask!" Joe thought frantically. "Well," he said aloud, trying desperately to remember some details about the man they had seen through the window, "he’s fairly big – taller than I am." He made a wild guess. "And he has dark hair and eyes, I believe."

"Doesn’t ring a bell." The man shook his head. "A description like that is pretty vague."

"What about the engraving on this?" Joe prodded, and taking back the lighter, showed the man the initials etched on the bottom. "Might he have had that done here?"

"No," the negative answer came. "We don’t do that here. There’s someone I recommend, if a customer wants something engraved, though."

"Okay – thanks." Somewhat disappointed, Joe pocketed the lighter once more. "Maybe I had better get the name of that engraver, just in case…." He glanced up into the circular concave security mirror above the checkout counter as he spoke – and froze.

Standing beside a rack of clothing several feet away, was what appeared to be another casual shopper. He was absently pawing through the pairs of pants, and apparently paying no attention to Joe or his conversation with the proprietor. But it wasn’t the stranger’s occupation that stopped Joe Hardy’s voice, it was his appearance.

For the stranger was tall – markedly taller than either Joe or Frank – and extremely well-built and muscular. He was wearing a long black coat…and on his head was a dark blue baseball cap – a baseball cap which bore the familiar insignia of the UNY-Bayport Falcons. Why does he look familiar…? That’s – that’s the guy I chased last night! Joe realized. It’s the guy with the camera; the one who dove into the Bay…and he’s wearing Frank’s hat!

Joe’s lengthy silence must have alerted the stranger that something was awry, because he suddenly looked up, his tilted brown eyes wide with interest. For a second, their eyes met in the distorted mirror, and again Joe was jolted by a strange sense of familiarity. Where do I know him from? It’s not just from last night….

Joe spun about and started toward the man with long, determined steps. This guy knows something about what’s going on, and I’m gonna find out what it is! But before Joe had taken more than a few steps, the stranger turned and darted for the door.

By the time Joe reached the entrance, the tall stranger was halfway down the block, not exactly running, but loping along, his long legs covering great distances with each easy stride. Joe set off in pursuit, dodging past and around other pedestrians. Unfortunately for Joe, Saturday morning seemed to be a prime time for shoppers to be on the sidewalks, and he was forced to slow down and wait several times, for people to get out of his way.

Impatiently, Joe sidestepped a couple who seemed intent on looking into every store window on the block, and sprinted down the sidewalk, trying to catch up to his fleeing quarry. But his efforts proved to be in vain, for just as he caught sight of the tall stranger, the man stepped onto a bus, which pulled away from the curb and roared off into traffic.

Chagrined and furious, Joe stood and watched the bus merge with the traffic, knowing there was no way he could track the guy now. He could see the stranger, standing at the rear of the bus, looking back at him. He must have been following me; there’s no way he would have turned up in the same Army surplus store I was in, otherwise!

He thrust his hand in his pockets and turned to retrace his steps to the parking lot where he had left Frank’s car, his brain whirring. He hated going back and facing Frank with the news that not only had he failed to get any solid information on the mysterious lighter, but that he had also seen – and lost! – the stranger he had chased the night before. And the creep had Frank’s hat – that means he was in the woods! That means he had something to do with Frank’s attack!

Joe stopped in his tracks, staring blankly through a store window at the display, a shiver running through him. He remembered the stealthy noises he’d heard when he was looking after Frank in the copse – the noises he’d told himself were in his imagination. Now he realized, with sickening clarity, that in all likelihood it had been this menacing man!