Remus felt someone shaking him. “Get up and give me a hand,” he heard Terry’s voice, and wanted desperately to tell him to go jump off a cliff.  His head was still splitting and he wanted more sleep.  He opened his eyes and for a second he looked at Terry in shock.

For one fleeting moment it was not the big red-haired man waking him up, but a dark haired handsome boy not much older than himself, and he could hear a voice saying, “Come on, baby brother, it’s time to get up!”

And then it was gone in a flash, replaced by Terry ‘the terrible’, as Remus secretly called him – he really disliked the other man.  He hurriedly brushed off Terry’s hand and pulled himself out of the seat. 

He kept wondering what that was all about – at first he thought it must have been a memory of Pharaoh waking him up, but Pharaoh had blond hair…. This was not making sense….

They had pulled into a dark warehouse, and Remus was sharply aware of how rank the air was.  It was a mixture of stale air and something he couldn’t place his finger on – but it smelled bad. Terry was already opening the back of the van and motioning for Remus to help him. 

“Take this, mamma’s boy,” Terry smirked as he passed Remus a small semi-automatic pistol. Remus didn’t want to take it, but Terry gave him a look that brooked no room for argument.  Reluctantly, he held the pistol on the group of young boys and men as Terry ushered them out of the van. 

“If anyone tries anything stupid – you will be shot,” Terry warned them as the group began to shuffle towards a door at the back of the warehouse.  As they entered the door, Remus suddenly realized what the other smell was that he couldn’t place: human feces!

The group was herded into a large back room with no windows.  Two other men looked up from their card game as they came in, and the smaller one got up and came over to them.  “What took you so long – you’re late!”  he demanded as his eyes glanced over the new batch of slaves before coming to rest on Remus.

When he saw Remus, he strode over to him and gave him a big hug. “It’s good to see you, boy.  It’s been a long time.  Are you okay?”

Remus had no idea who this was and he just nodded back, “yeah”. 

The man looked at him strangely for a moment before turning back to glare at Terry. “Well??”

Terry just shrugged for a moment before replying, “I had some unexpected business that came up kind of the last minute while I was there.”

Saying no more, he turned his back on the man, who just glared at him for a moment before turning his attention over to the new batch. “Okay, kiddos, here’s the drill.  Pick a spot by the wall and wait.  If you move you will be shot – but don’t worry, we won’t kill you.  Just put a little hole in you somewhere and then you can hope that you get medical attention before you die from the infection….”  He chuckled at this last part as if privy to some joke.

It was then that Remus noticed that the walls were lined with shackles, and he watched, horrified, as the boys were beginning to be shackled to the wall, one by one.  Between every second shackle was a small rancid bucket and he found himself almost gagging. A few big black flies buzzed lazily around the rims. 

Remus wrinkled up his nose in disgust and looked at the man still sitting at the table; how could they stand to even be in here – let alone play cards?

“Wanna help?” the small man asked Remus, “It’ll be just like old times, boy.”  At that prompt, Remus swallowed the bile that had risen in the back of his throat and started to help lock the boys into their chains, removing the pistol from his waistband and handing it back to Terry.  He was secretly relieved to be free of the gun; it seemed to keep getting heavier the longer he held onto it.

As chance would have it, it was Remus that had to shackle Biff to the wall.  And when he bent over him to put his arms in the shackle, Biff took the opportunity to whisper to him, being careful to make sure that no one else heard him, “Boy am I glad to see you!  I knew you couldn’t be dead - Joe Hardy is too much a survivor!” 

If he heard Remus gasp in surprise, he didn’t show it; Biff just smiled to himself, confident that Joe was going to save him.

Remus had no idea what this kid was talking about.  But he just nodded and didn’t say anything as he moved along the line to finish securing the last prisoner. 

But all he kept thinking was… Who the hell was Joe Hardy??

* * *

It was in the wee hours of the morning when Frank finally grabbed his small overnight bag and heard a familiar voice calling his name.

“Frank!”  Fenton Hardy gave his oldest son a quick hug before ushering him out of the airport and into the waiting car.  Frank was surprised to see that the Gray Man was not with him.

“Where’s Mr. Gray?” he asked as he buckled up his seatbelt. 

Fenton checked his blind spot before pulling the car into the traffic.

“He’s already staked out at the house – we’re not taking any chances of losing Joe when we’re this close.”

Frank nodded in agreement and stared out the window for a while.  The surroundings were beautiful, and he wished glumly that they were here on a holiday instead of a stakeout.  The ocean kissed the cliffs that the road wound around and after a while Frank turned away from its serenity and looked back at his father.  “Have you seen him yet?”

“Biff?” his father asked.

“No…well actually, yes and no.  Let me try again…have you seen either of them yet?”  In his own worry for his brother and the lull of the scenery, Frank was horrified; he had almost forgotten about his search for Biff! 

Fenton shook his head sadly.  “No. Apparently, Andreya has been keeping him on a short rein.  This has increased Mr. Gray’s concern about Joe’s safety– that and the graveyard vandalism….I guess up until the real Remus’s murder, he was always out and around.  But in the last two months, Joe’s only been off the estate a couple of times, and except for yesterday, he was always with someone.”

“That sounds like a good sign.  Maybe she’s just worried about him; after all, he does have amnesia – it could be that she only now trusts him to be okay when he leaves the estate,” Frank surmised. 

But his father shook his head.  “I don’t know – I just wish Gray knew who had murdered the real kid.  For all we know it could have been someone close, and if so…” his voice trailed off.

“And if so, then they might know that their Remus is a fraud,” Frank said as he shuddered at the thought. 

“That’s what Gray thinks. Right now the assumption is that whoever killed Remus, must have found out, somehow, about Joe being a dead ringer for him…” he grimaced as he realized his unintentional bad pun on Joe being dead and looking like Remus, “and decided to see if Joe Hardy was really in his grave.” 

Frank nodded in agreement, after giving his father a strange look when he heard his father’s choice of words.  “And now that they realize the grave is empty…” Frank trailed off and as his father pulled the car over into the cover of the brush and got out, he finished, “Joe’s cover is blown.”

“You know what the real irony about all this is? “  Frank whispered as he crawled up the steep embankment behind his father and crouched down next to the Gray Man, who was watching an impressive estate through binoculars, “Joe doesn’t even know he is a fraud!”

* * *

Remus and Terry drove back to the house in silence.  But as they waited for the wrought iron gates to swing open, Terry said to him casually, “You were kind of cool with Jeff back there weren’t you? I mean I don’t care either way, but he seemed a bit bothered by it.” 

Still trying to figure out what the blond headed boy was talking about, Remus was only half listening when Terry spoke. “Jeff?” he asked distractedly.

“Jeff…you know…your old man.” 

Remus was shocked – so that is why the man was so friendly to him, it was his own father – and he didn’t even know him!  “I…I…I don’t remember him,” he said truthfully.

Terry just shook his head and murmured, “Of course you don’t…” and then a few seconds later he pointed to the house. “What are you waiting for – an invitation or something?” as Remus had not driven through the open gates yet. 

The van shot forward as Remus gave it the gas – he suddenly had a strong desire to talk to the Gray Man.