“Can I help you?” Tim asked the disguised Frank as he entered the store near closing time.  

“Unfortunately, I doubt it,” Frank answered.  “But maybe?”  

“Have we met?” Tim inquired, arching a brow at the familiar voice.  

“Don’t give me away,” pleaded Frank.  “But I’m Joe’s brother, Frank.”  

“Why the disguise?” Tim questioned curiously.  

“The CIA wants me in protective custody,” explained Frank.  “But I’m going to find Joe.”  

“Okay,” Tim said slowly.  “But why are you here?  They haven’t come back.”  

“That you know of,” Frank corrected him.  “My source told me Hamby and Stevens have been seen coming to the mall even when it’s closed.  That means they must know someone who works here.”  

“Any idea who?” Tim asked.  

“No,” Frank replied with a scowl.  “But I figure if I hang around long enough I will find out.  Is your dad around?” he asked.  “I need to ask him for a favor.”  

“Sure,” Tim answered.  “Just let me close the mall entrance gate and I will take you to him.”  

“Need a  hand?” offered Frank.  

“No thanks.  I got it,” Tim declined.  He grabbed a handle protruding in the center of the entryway at the top and pulled.  A clanging sound accompanied the metal gate as it made its way down to connect with the locking devices at the floor on each side.  Tim gave the handle a pull to make sure it was locked then stood up straight and smiled at Frank.  “You got here at the right time,” he said.  “I have already locked the other entrance.”  

“I thought your hours were longer,” Frank said, following Tim to the office.  

“We open earlier,” acknowledged Tim.  “But we close at the same time.”  Tim opened the office door.  “Dad,” he said as Frank stepped inside.  “Frank Hardy is here.”  

Frank's mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide even as he spun around to make a run for it but Tim was ready.  As Frank's head turned Tim’s fist caught his jaw.  Frank fell to the floor from the unexpected contact.  

“Well now,” Jennings said as Stevens and Hamby reached down and hauled Frank to his feet, trapping his arms behind him.  “Welcome.”  

Frank glared at Jennings.  Joe’s job had been a trap.  He should have known no employer could have been that understanding.  “You set Joe up!” he accused Jennings.  

“How could I not?” Jennings replied, smiling.  “The poor boy was asking everyone for a job.  Tim saw him asking at the record shop then came back and told me so I followed him and got in just as he was about to give up.”  

“Then you had those two goons pretend to need shovels the next morning,” Frank said.  “Since they were already wanted no one would suspect you were behind his kidnapping.”  

“Very good,” Jennings congratulated the youth.  “It is working out very well too,” he continued.  “Fenton Hardy is currently in charge of security at The Excelsior and...” he broke off as the phone rang.  

A hand was clamped over Frank’s mouth as Jennings reached for the handset.  “Jennings’ Hardware,” Jennings answered.  “What?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing to slits.  “Oh no,” he said in answer to a question.  “Let him believe he has the upper hand.  At least for the moment,” he added, giving Frank a smile that boded ill for the youth.  

Jennings hung up the phone.  “It seems your father has only been pretending to follow orders,” he said.  “Let’s see how well he obeys when his youngest son is dead and his eldest is next in line.”

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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 original characters without express permission of the authors.