Frank jumped out of the van then took his brother and laid him on the sidewalk. After checking his vital signs he stepped back to the van and used the car phoe to call an ambulance.

Liz came rushing out of the building and knelt down beside Joe. "I saw you from my window," she told Frank. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Frank replied, then checked Joe's pulse again. Finding none, he lifted Joe's head back and began CPR. He was just starting to check for a pulse again when the paramedics arrived. Taking over, they opened Joe's shirt and began CPR. A few minutes later, Joe was breathing but still had not regained consciousness,

"Would you call Callie and ask her to pick mom up and meet us at the hospital?" Frank asked Liz.

Nodding her agreement, she watched as Joe was loaded into the ambulance. Frank climbed into the ambulance with Joe. After arriving at the hospital, Joe was whisked away and Frank made to wait. When he was allowed back to where Joe was being treated, he found Joe resting on the bed with a heart monitor attached to his chest.

"Joe?" Frank asked softly, as he leaned over his brother. Joe moaned and moved his head, but didn't wake up. A few minutes later, his mother and Callie came into the room.

"What's wrong with him?" Mrs. Hardy asked Frank tearfully.

Frank shook his head and was about to reply when Dr. Bates entered the room and answered for him. "Nothing as far as I can tell," he stated, completely mystified.

"Nothing?" Frank demanded hotly. "A person doesn't stop breathing if there isn't anything wrong with him!"

"We've ran some preliminary tests on him but they showed nothing," Dr. Bates explained. "I would like to keep him and run some more extensive tests."

"No way!" Joe, who had finally awoken, spoke up. "We're on a major case. Besides, I feel fine," he added, sitting up.

"You weren't fine an hour ago," Frank said sternly.

"Your health is more important," Mrs. Hardy told Joe. "You will stay here until the doctor says otherwise," she ordered.

"If these guys are up to what we think they are, then it may not matter where I am. If we don't stop them, then a lot of peoople will die," Joe tried to reason with her.

"What are they up to?" she asked.

"We think it may have something to do with the chemical plant," Frank answered for Joe.

"A spill?' Callie asked, her eyes wide as she thought about the implications.

"It's a possibility," Frank agreed.

Joe removed the monitor, jumped out of bed and went to the locker to get his clothes. Pulling out his shirt, he frowned at he coffee stain. "Can you get this out?" he asked his mother, pointing to the stain.

"Coffee stains aren't too hard to get rid of," she told him.

"Joe," broke in dr. Bates. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be drinking coffee until after we've ran those tests. Caffeine can have an adverse effect on the heart."

"I didn't drink this," Joe informed him. buttoning the shirt. "Someone spilled it on me at the newspaper office," he added slowly, his breathing becoming labored once again.

"Joe!" shouted Dr. Bates as he raced to joe's side. Placing an arm under one of Joe's, he half-carried Joe back to the bed. "Help me get his shirt off," he urged Frank, as he noticed an odd odor rising from Joe's shirt. Frank unbuttoned the top two buttons and pulled the shirt off over Joe's head.

Dr. bates snatched the shirt from Frank's hands and dropped it on the floor. Next, he checked joe's vital signs and, finding a slow pulse, hit the nurse call button. "Get some oxygen in here stat!" he ordered. After it had been brought in and Joe had been placed under the mask, Dr. bates pulled a hazardous waste disposal bag from a drawer beneath the bed.

"What is it?" Frank asked, noticing the caution the doctor was taking with Joe's shirt.

"I think I just found the cause of Joe's malady," he answered.

"Huh?" mumbled Joe from behind the mask as he once again became aware of his surroundings.

"Your shirt smells like it has carbon tetrachloride on it," Dr. bates told him.

"What's that?" Callie asked, tilting her head to the side as she tried to remember if she had ever heard of it.

"It's a poison," Dr. Bates informed the group. "The smell was probably hidden by the coffee when it was wet, but as it dried, the poisonous odor remained while the coffee odor evaporated."

"So they tried to kill Joe again," Mrs. Hardy stated, her eyes filled with concern.

"And they'll keep trying yntil we can put a stop to it," Frank said, anger in every inch of him at the people responsible.

"Does this mean I can go now?" Joe asked, removing the oxygen mask.

"Let me give you a final check," Dr. Bates said. "Then you may leave. I'll have your shirt sent to our lab to check my suspicions."

"I've never heard of carbon tetrachloride," Frank said. "What kind of poison is it?"

"It used to be quite easy to obtain," his mother surprised him by answering. "Back in the fifties it was used in cleaning solvents for airplane motors, but was banned when it caused several deaths."

After Joe's release, Callie dropped Frank and Joe and their mother off at the newspaper office so they could retrieve the van. Arriving home, Frank checked the answering machine to see if Sam had called before going into his room to review the notes he and Joe had collected earlier. Joe went to his room to take a nap.

"Hello," Frank answered the phone on the first ring half an hour later.

"Frank," Sam whispered. "I've got the information you wanted."

"What's wrong?" Frank asked, picking up on Sam's troubled tone.

"I think someone may be trying to listen in," he replied softly. "Guess not," he amended a few seconds later. "There he goes."

"On a case?" Frank asked.

"Yes," Sam admitted then changed the subject. "Financially, the Dawson Chemical Company is in the black. They've been increasing in profits for the past three years."

"There goes the arson for insurance theory," grumbled Frank. "Did you find out anything about their inventory?"

"Yes," he said. "And I even have it broken down to show which chemicals were stored at each warehouse," he added happily."

"Great!" Frank shouted.

"It's a fairly long list," Sam told him. "I'll bring it over in a bit."

"I can come and get it," offered Frank.

"No," Sam refused. "I'm not at home And until I wrap up this case, I won't be going back there."

"Thanks Sam," Frank said and hung up. Going into his brother's room, he flipped on the light. "Wake up," he ordered Joe, who groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "Come on," Frank urged. "You're never going to get enough sleep to make you look beautiful and," he stopped abruptly as a pillow hit him in the face. "And Sam will be here in a little while," he added with a sly grin, as he reached over and yanked the quilt off of Joe.

"Did he find anything out?" Joe asked after a yawn had escaped him. Frank told him what Sam had said. When he had finished Joe asked, "Did you go over the notes again?"

"Yeah," Frank answered with defeat. "There has to be something else because there isn't anything there worth killing anyone over."

"Maybe if I start on my research paper I might figure out what it could be," Joe suggested.

"But you hadn't started it before," Frank pointed out.

"I know," Joe replied with a shrug. "But I may remember something Kevin, or that guy in front of the plant said that I have forgotten."

"It's worth a try, I suppose," Frank agreed.

"Dinner's ready," said Mrs. Hardy, knocking on Frank's door a little later. "You two have been in here a long time," she added when Joe opened the door.

"We've been going over some of the facts we've gathered," Joe told her. "I'm trying to sort it out and cut it down to a manageable topic. There's a lot of information," he added with a grimace. Mrs. Hardy gave Joe a sympathetic smile becuase she knew how much Joe hated doing homework.

"Nothing we've come across so far relates to the case at hand," Frank added. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This is taking forever." To emphasize the point, he stood up and stretched.

"But Sam's bringing us a list of Dawson Chemical's Tier Two," Joe said optimistically. At his mother's confused frown, he explained. "The Tier Two is a detailed inventory of the chemicals stored by the plant."

"It sounds tedious," Mrs. Hardy commented as she turned and left the room. The boys followed her downstairs and were just about to enter the dining room when there was a knock at the front door.

"That mus tbe Sam," Frank said as he and Joe retreated down the hallway to the front door.

"Hi boys," Sam greeeted them when the door was opened. A master of disguise, Sam was dresssed as a hobo complete with a pair of loafers with a hole in the right big toe.

"Going under," Joe noted, grinning at his friend after placing the voice.

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "Here's the list," he said, handing them some papers. "Sorry I can't stay," he added with a wave good-bye as he left.

The boys ate dinner with their mother then retreated to Frank's room with the list. Picking up one sheet and looking at it, Joe began. "The last warehouse that caught fire, the one I was in," he clarified, "was storing arsenic peentoxide, bromine, butyl vinyl ether...Where do they get these names?" Joe asked, breaking off hsi monologue and looking over a tFrank.

"Never mind," Frank waved Joe's question aside with impatience. "Finish the list."

"Carvone, chloroform, demeton, and diborane," Joe finished the first list.

"If all that stuff was in there with you then why are you still breathing?" Frank wondered out loud, recognizing some of the names.

"The containers were fireproof," Joe stated.

"Then why burn the place?" Frank asked.

"If we knew, then this case would be solved," Joe said with exaggerated patience.

Tossing a pen at him, Frank asked, "What were in the other warehouses?"

"Benzyl chloride, cobalt, ethion, fludrine, fosthietan, and isobenzan were in one. The third held fonofos, lewisite, lithiumhydride, methomyl, ,ethyl phenkapton, methyl thiocyanate and nitric acid. The fourth warehouse holds nitric oxide, phenol, phosphorus, purene, sulfur trioxide and terbufos."

"I can't beleve they were allowed to store all of those dangerous chemicals at the docks," Frank said in disbelief.

"I learned from one of the guys at the fire station that the company found a loophole in the local zoning regulations which allowed them to store their inventory there even though they couldn't do any processing at the site."

"But still, just to let those wooden buildings store this stuff is a catastrophe waiting to happen," Frank argued.

"The frames of the warehouses are metallic," Joe informed him. "A wooden exterior was built around each one in order to make them fit into their surroundings. Also, the chemicals themselves are stored in metal cylinders cushioned with a special flame retardant bubble packing inside of specially constructed crates."

"If the building was made of metal, how did it burn?" Frank demanded.

"It must have reached the metal's melting point," Joe said.

"So it's possible none of the cylinders containing the chemicals actually burned?" questioned Frank.

"It's possible," Joe agreed hesitantly, thinking about the extra protection the cylinders have. "Kevin said the cylinders at the first two warehouses wre lying around looking worse for the wear but still intact."

"But?" prodded Frank.

"But how possible can it be for not even one cylinder to leak during a fire that has to be hot enough to melt the steel frames of the warehouses?"

"I see what you mean," Frank said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "The law of probability would assure at the very least one cylinder would be damaged to the point of danger. I guess this means they had better take better care if the last warehouse goes."

"Unless they're trying to let everyone think these fires aren't serious and then during the fifth one, some real damage occurs."

"Fifth?" Frank asked, snapping his head around to look at his brother. "There isn't a fifth warehouse," he said, a bit doubtfully.

"There is, however, a fifth storage facility and it's holding some heavy duty chemicals. Cyanogen bromide, hydrocyanic acid, thiophenol," he read from the list. "There are a few more," he said, looking up at Frank, and putting the sheet down. "According to this sheet, the fifth storage facility is the plant itself."

"Do these five areas hold all the chemicals?" Frank asked.

"Considering the fifth one is at the plant, I would assume so," Joe replied.

"Why do you think they're planning on waiting untill the plant goes before the spill is arranged?" Frank asked Joe.

"Two reasons," Joe told him. "First, that's where the most hazardous chemicals are kept. Second, storing facilities are less stringent for an on-site storage facility than they are for off-site storage. Even if they followed all the rules, the damage would be greater than at the docks."

"Mmm," murmured Frank as he lay down and drifted off to sleep. Joe went to his room and brought back a blanket to cover Frank with then sat down before the computer and pulled up the file with his rough draft. It was close to midnight when he turned off the computer and went to bed. It seemed like only minutes had passed after he had closed his eyes when he was being shaken awake.

"Come on," Frank urged as he shook Joe's shoulder again. "Wake up."

Joe opened one eye and peered at Frank's excited face. Wondering why he was so happy this morning, Joe sat up and looked at him. "What's up?" he asked sleepily.

"I was reading your paper this morning and realized you had a great idea."

"I did?" Joe asked. then quickly added, "Of course I did. I have lots of great ideas. To which one are you referring?" he ended in puzzlement.

"You wrote about improving safety by better screening the people involved," esplained Frank, grinning at Joe's faltering ego. "We haven't really devoted any time to the people there except for the guard and Charles Dawson."

"I get it," Joe sais, jumping out of bed. "We need to run a check on everyone at the plant."

"That would take too much time," Frank denied, shaking his head. "What we need to do is find out who has access to the area at any given time and start eliminating people as suspects."

"What suspects?" Joe demanded. "My kidnapers sure, but who else? We're not even positive we're on the right track."

"True, we haven't been able to figure out what is going on except," he emphasized the word, "there may be a spill planned provided the guy who told you about it knew something. We need to discover someone with a motive and what the reason is for the fires. To do that we need to know who at the plant has access to all the warehouses. Right now, everyone at the plkant is a suspect."

"I guess that makes sense," Joe said, frowing a bit.

"Get dressed," Frank told him. "Mom's gone out, but since I've just had my shower, I'll fix you something for breakfast while you get ready," he added as he left the room whistling.

"You said their security is strict," Joe said, putting on his paint cap. "Are you sure this is going to get us inside?"

"You got a better idea?" Frank asked, lifting one eyebrow. Joe shook his head and got out of the van. Taking the leather jacket his brother handed to him, he threw it over the top of the fence to cover the barbed wire.

"Are you sure their electric eye is off?" he asked, looking back at Frank. He was referring to part of the plant's security system.

"They only activate it at night," Frank assured him. "I had Phil check it out."

Joe sighed and went over the fence. Landing on the other side, he tossed the jacket back over to Frank. "If you didn't think we might need the van for a quick get-away, I wouldn't do this," he grumbled to Frank before taking off for one of the buildings.

Frank climbed into the van and tossed the jacket onto the back floorboard. He waited ten minutes to give Joe time to get into position, then drove to the gate. Recognizing the guard, Frank was grateful he had taken the time to add a wig and mustache from his father's disguise kit. He and Joe had put cling signs on each side of the van advertising the DARREL & SONS PAINT COMPANY.

The guard looked up as Frank came to a stop. There was no glimmer of recognition in the man's eyes, and Frank gave an inaudible sigh of relief. "I'm sorry," the guard said, after checking his list. "There are no painters listed to be allowed inside today."

"But I'm supposed to be here," Frank argued. "Mr. Dawson called earlier this morning and asked us to do a rush job. He's expecting some bigwig and needed it done today."

"Then you would be on the list," the guard denied.

"But he let us in this morning," Frank whined. "We forgot some brushes and I had to go back for them."

"You expect me to believe he let you in himself?" the guard asked sarcastically. At Frank's earnest nod, he smiled. "Okay," he said, picking up the phone. "We'll see."