Frank followed the sedan, keeping at least three cars between them, before the sedan pulled off the highway and came to a manned fence.

"Dawson Chemical Company," Frank read, coming to a stop just out of sight. "Little brother what were you doing?" He wondered out loud.

He waited until the sedan had gone through then pulled up to the guard's station. "Name?" asked the guard.

"Fred Daniels," answered Frank, using the first alias that popped into his head.

"You're not listed," said the guard, looking up. "You'll have to leave."

"Oh, I didn't want to come in," Frank assured him with a smile. "I saw a brown sedan pull in here a minute ago and the driver looked like my Uncle Terry, so I thought I'd say hello."

"Sorry kid. That was Paul Conway, not Terry whoever," the guard informed him.

"Oh," said Frank, feigning disappointment. "He still looked like somebody important," he said, fishing for information.

"He's the janitor," the guard told him, laughing.

"Oh," repeated Frank sheepishly. "I just thought it was a nice car."

"Not his," admitted the guard. "He only uses it when he has an errand to run for the company."

"It's a company car?" Frank asked, making sure he had heard right.

"Yes," the guard affirmed.

"Well, I guess I had better be leaving then," Frank said, noticing the guard had stopped smiling and was beginning to look at him suspiciously.

The guard nodded his dismissal and Frank backed out and drove back to the fire department.

Walking into the building he was greeted by a blond man in his late twenties, wearing faded jeans and a green plaid shirt. "Any news on Joe?" the man asked.

"What?" Frank asked in surprise. "How did you know about Joe?"

The man picked up the morning paper and held it up. Joe's picture was on the front page with the story of his abduction from the paper's parking lot. Frank realized he hadn't looked at the day's paper to see what had been said about yesterday's events.

Frank shook his head in reply to the question. "That's why I'm here," he explained. "I'd like to know what Joe was doing here yesterday."

"I didn't talk to him, but Kevin spent about an hour with him," the man said, and motioned to where a lanky young man was drinking a cup of coffee and reading the sports page.

Frank thanked him and then went over and sat down opposite Kevin. "Hi," he said, and introduced himself. "I understand you spoke with my brother yesterday."

"That's right," answered Kevin, putting down the paper and grinning at Frank. His brown eyes met Frank's with a friendly twinkle.

"Could you tell me what you talked about?" Frank asked, getting right to the point.

"You think it may have something to do with his kidnapping?" Kevin asked curiously.

"Right now we're trying to find anything that could tie in with it," Frank answered truthfully.

"I doubt what we discussed will help, but if you think so, ask away," Kevin told him, leaning back in his chair and locking his hands behind his head.

"For starters, why did Joe come here?" Frank asked him.

"He said he was doing a research paper on industrial fires."

"Have there been many around here?" Frank asked, leaning forward and giving Kevin his undivided attention.

"Not really. Locally, we've only had three in the past year. Of course, nationally, they are fairly frequent," Kevin told him.

"What exactly did Joe want to know?"

"He was asking about the fires at the docks," Kevin replied.

"How do they tie in with industrial fires?"

"The Dawson Chemical Company had four warehouses down there," Kevin informed him. "Two of them caught fire recently when another warehouse blew."

"So the chemical company wasn't at fault," Frank said glumly because the lead he thought was there had just fizzled.

Kevin shook his head. "Joe also wanted to know how the fire had spread to the two warehouses which weren't even near where the fire originated."

"And your answer was?" prompted Frank.

"The fireworks," replied Kevin. "When they blew, sparks flew in all directions and some of those ignited the other warehouses."

"How were the other two situated in context to the one that explode?" asked Frank.

"Your brother asked the same question," Kevin told him, smiling. "Look," he began, leaning forward and picking up the condiments set. "This salt shaker is one of Dawson's warehouses and the pepper shaker is the other." He set the salt shaker at the top of the table and the pepper shaker about twelve inches southwest of the salt.

"This is the fireworks warehouse," he said, picking up the toothpick holder and placing it six inches southeast from the salt shaker.

"There are three more warehouses close by," he added. "One here," he said, pointing to the space between the salt and pepper. "And two here." He indicated a point to the south of the toothpick holder.

"When the one blew it sent sparks to these two," he said, taking two toothpicks and placing one on each shaker.

"So three warehouses in the same area were missed," observed Frank. "What started the fire?"

"Someone tossed a lit cigarette through an open window at the fireworks warehouse," Kevin said in disgust. "If you're going to store fireworks, the least you can do is close the windows. They had no smoking signs everywhere, but does anyone pay attention?" He asked, not expecting an answer.

"Did you discuss anything else?" Frank asked.

"We talked about safety procedures during an industrial fire and how they differ from a business or residential fire. We also covered some ground about evacuation procedures during industrial disasters."

"Did he say anything about where he was going next?" Frank wanted to know.

"Just that he wished it were Friday instead of Saturday so he could check out some records at the courthouse," Kevin replied.

"Why?" Frank asked in puzzlement.

"I wondered about that too," Kevin admitted. "He said he wanted to know more about Dawson Chemical."

"Do you know anything about a brown, four-door sedan that has been around here recently?" Frank asked, wondering about Dawson Chemical himself.

"It belongs to the Dawson Chemical Company," he answered. "Why?"

"What was it doing here?" Frank asked, ignoring Kevin's question.

"Since the warehouse fires, Dawson has been trying to make sure all the safety requirements are met," Kevin explained. "They’ve been sending a man to keep up with the new manual specifications."

"Are new specifications put out often?"

"Regulations regarding industrial hazards change frequently," Kevin informed him. "Normally, regulations aren't always followed due to the lack of funding needed to ensure their enforcement. As a result, more and more accidents occur. Dawson wants us to perform a hazard test on a worst case scenario. They've been sending material over here for us to go over and we've been filling them in on our response. There will be a trial run with full gear this evening."

"Wouldn't a worse case scenario take place when the plant was in full operation instead of on a Sunday night?" Frank asked.

"If it were functioning at capacity, there are several things that could be done to contain a spill or fire, whereas if there are less personnel, then it would be difficult for all the proper procedures to be followed."

"So even the janitor gets into the act," Frank deduced.

"No more so than anyone else," Kevin replied. "Why?"

"The guy driving the sedan. He's the janitor at the chemical plant," Frank answered.

"No way!" Kevin shouted, hitting his knee and breaking out in laughter. "He's Dawson's cousin. Dawson hired him to be in charge of plant safety after the fire."

"Was he here when Joe was?" Frank asked him urgently.

"I think so," Kevin answered, wrinkling his forehead in thought. "Does it matter?"

Frank gave a slight shrug. "You never know what might be important in a mystery," he said, rising and shaking Kevin's hand. "Thanks for your help."

"If I can be of any more help, let me know," offered Kevin as Frank was leaving.

At home, Frank filled his parents in on what he had learned. "There's definitely a connection with the Dawson Chemical Plant," he concluded.

"I'll check out Dawson and see what I can find out at the plant," said Mr. Hardy.

"I'll go down to the docks and look over the burned warehouses," Frank decided. "That fire sounds awfully suspicious even if arson wasn't suspected."

"Agreed," his father said. "Don't go alone," he reminded Frank. "Ask Chet and Biff to go with you." Frank nodded his agreement.

"Be careful," Mrs. Hardy said, laying a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"I will," he said. "And don't worry," he added. "We'll find Joe," he promised.

"I know," she replied huskily.

Two hours later, Frank, Chet, and Biff were looking through the debris at one of the warehouses.

"Nothing," grunted Chet. "There's nothing here. Not a clue, not even a hint there is anything wrong."

"Are you sure Joe's kidnapping had to do with this fire?" Biff demanded of Frank.

"No," admitted Frank, sighing in defeat. "But I am sure it had to do with the Dawson Chemical Plant and we have to start somewhere."

"We've been over every inch of this place and haven't found anything," repeated Chet. "The town records would tell us more about it than anything we could find here," he continued to complain.

"True," agreed Frank. "But City Hall isn't open on Sunday. Besides," he added, "Joe said he wished he could check the records so he must have suspected something."

"What?" demanded Chet.

"If we knew that, then we could find Joe," Biff told him patiently.

"Let's look at the warehouse where the fire originated," suggested Frank.

An hour later the threesome were standing amid a pile of ruble that used to be the Cragman Fireworks warehouse. Frank was gazing at the remains of three beams which had been placed at an angle facing one of Dawson's warehouses. Biff and Chet watched as Frank walked over to another area of the warehouse and examined a similar pile aimed in a different direction.

"What are you doing?" asked Chet.

"These piles were aimed at the other warehouses," was Frank's response.

"It looks like rubbish to me," Biff said hesitantly.

"These three small beams look like a tripod or a launching pad," Frank insisted. "I don't understand how the fire inspector could have overlooked this," he said, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Maybe he didn't," Chet said.

"Kevin said arson wasn't suspected," Frank argued. "Why wouldn't this be considered suspicious?"

"Maybe you just want to see something there," Chet said. "I don't see anything resembling what you're talking about." He looked at Frank. "You might be looking so hard for a lead that your mind is making one up."

Frank started to argue, then stopped and shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Let's check out Dawson's remaining warehouses," he suggested.

"Wait!" ordered Chet. "There's one emergency that has to be taken care of first."

"What?" asked Frank and Biff with alarm.

"Dinner," replied Chet with a grin as he rubbed his stomach.

"All right," agreed Frank. "But let's make it quick," he added, anxious to find his brother.

"All set?" asked the nasal-voiced Jack.

"Everything's ready," said Paul, running a hand through his thick black hair. "I checked the set-up against the newest procedures I picked up at the fire department."

"Perfect," said the boss, straightening his tie. "The majority of the fire department will be at the plant. By the time they arrive here, this place will be ashes and the kid will be dead. Are the chemicals set?" He asked Jared.

"Yes Sir," replied Jared. "In exactly nine minutes and eleven seconds," he said, looking at his watch, "the vials will fall and the chemicals will mix causing a minor explosion which will set off the other chemical bombs in the warehouse. Hardy is a mere ten feet from where the third explosion will occur."