"I thought computers were supposed to be fast." Joe complained, giving his brother a dirty look. "How long is this going to take?"

"Just a few minutes." Frank replied, amused at Joe’s irritation with the computer. "Of course if it’s not working fast enough for you I could print the lists out and you could look them over yourself." Frank offered. "That should only take a few…hours."

"Very funny." Joe wrinkled his nose at his brother, and threw himself into a chair.

In an effort to distract Joe from the ‘uncooperative’ computer, Frank asked "What did Ben Clarkson say when you called?" Referring to their contact at Liberty Insurance.

"He said he’d check the list of policy holders in Kirkland where the burglaries occurred and email me the names of anyone who has jewelry insured with them." Joe replied.

A ‘ding’ sounded from Frank’s computer and Joe vaulted from the chair and was instantly standing behind Frank looking over his shoulder. Watching his brother’s reaction, Frank couldn’t help but be reminded of Pavlov’s dog and chuckled to himself.

"What’s so funny?" Joe asked with a slight scowl.

Frank debated telling him, but thought better of it. "Nothing." He said, turning back to the monitor, deciding Joe wouldn’t find it the least bit amusing being compared to a trained dog.

"Well? Did it find a match?" Joe asked impatiently.

"Did it ever!" Frank grinned. Shifting a little so Joe could get a better view, he pointed to the screen.

"Steven Lyzarczyk, Agent, Liberty Insurance." Joe read, and then shifted his gaze slightly. "Jennifer Lyzarczyk, Office Administration, Granston Domestics. Yes!!" Joe shouted triumphantly, pumping a fist in the air as Frank couldn’t help but laugh at his brother’s enthusiasm.

"Let me go see if Clarkson sent those names yet." Joe said excitedly and seconds later he was gone.

Shaking his head at Joe’s seemingly endless supply of energy, Frank picked up the newspaper lying on his desk and began to read as he waited for Joe to return. Perusing a few of the front-page articles, Frank turned the page where a bold headline caught his eye.

Reading the article, Frank shook his head and wondered what the world was coming to with such senseless acts of violence. The article described the apparent kidnapping and assault of Kent Graham, a well-known concert pianist in New York City. The twenty-four-year-old young man had been a child prodigy and was considered one of the best concert pianists in the world. Graham had been returning home after a rehearsal with the New York City Symphony. As he walked to his townhouse, he was shot with a tranquilizer dart and transported to an unknown location. There his hands and fingers had been brutally smashed with what the police believed was a hammer. He was found around three o’clock in the morning on the front steps of his home.

The young man didn’t remember anything after feeling the sting of the dart in his neck, until he woke up in the emergency room of the hospital. His hands had been so badly mutilated it was unsure if he would ever regain the use of them for simple daily tasks and it was certain he would never play piano again.

Frank couldn’t help but think about Blake Sansom and the similarity of two ‘prodigies’ being dealt such horrible twists of fate.

"Got it!" Joe cried out, bursting into Frank’s office, bringing his mind back to the task at hand. Setting the paper aside, Frank leaned forward on his desk so he was better able to see the list of names Joe had.

"Right here." Joe pointed excitedly. "Edward and Lorraine Winters. They have a large collection of rare jewelry, which they happen to keep in a safe in their house, insured with Liberty Insurance. And…" Joe continued producing the schedule Greta Rawlins had given him the day before. "…look who just happens to be planning an evening at the ballet in New York City on Thursday and cancelled the services of their cook that night. The one they get from Granston Domestics." He finished by pointing to one of the red circles Greta had made on the schedule. "That’s where they’re going to strike next. I know it."

Frank looked at the list of names and at the schedule before looking up at Joe. "I think you may be right, little brother." He smiled. "What say we run this by Dad?"

*****

Fenton pulled up to the wrought iron gate of a large mansion overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. To his left was an intercom mounted on the eight-foot tall cement wall that surrounded the entire property. Positioned atop the wall, looking down on the car, was a surveillance camera. Frank, seated next to his father, looked out the window at the imposing structure.

"Winters and his wife are the only ones who live here?" Frank asked somewhat awed.

"I believe so. They’re children are grown and out on their own." Fenton replied leaning out the window and pressing a button on the intercom.

"Yes?" a voice came floating out of the speaker.

"Fenton Hardy to see Edward Winters." Fenton replied.

"Please come in." The voice requested, the gates opening as if by magic.

"So what do you think?" Frank asked, turning in his seat to look at his younger brother.

Joe was leaning forward slightly, staring out the front windshield, eyes huge and mouth hanging open. As Fenton navigated the long driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the mansion, Frank leaned back and placed two fingers under Joe’s chin. Pressing upwards, he forced Joe’s mouth shut with an audible snap.

Fenton chuckled at his sons and stepped out of the car, followed by Frank with Joe bringing up the rear, still unable to take his eyes off the huge building.

"Wow!" He finally managed, causing Frank and Fenton to exchange amused glances. "Are you sure this is somebody’s house and not a museum or something?" Joe asked, trailing behind as the three of them walked up the front steps.

"According to Clarkson it could be. Everything in this house is museum quality." Fenton replied, ringing the doorbell.

Seconds later the door opened and the Hardy’s were greeted by a tall, slim man with thinning sandy colored hair and light blue eyes, who was wearing a butler’s uniform.

"Mr. Hardy." The man said, more as a statement than a question. He stepped aside allowing Fenton, Frank and Joe to enter. "Please follow me." He requested and led them into a large foyer.

Joe looked up in awe at the enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the cathedral ceiling and the impressive curved staircase leading to the upper floors. Unable to tear his eyes away from the chandelier, he ran right into Frank’s back, not realizing his brother had stopped.

"Sorry." Joe mumbled after Frank glared at him in reprimand.

The butler knocked on the closed door in front of them and waited for a response before opening the door and ushering the Hardy’s inside.

"Fenton Hardy, Frank Hardy and Joseph Hardy." The butler announced, with Joe automatically wincing at the use of his full first name, as the only time his parents had ever called him ‘Joseph’ was when he was in big trouble.

Edward Winters moved out from behind the large oak desk to shake hands with the Hardy’s. As CEO of a one of the countries largest pharmaceutical companies, the tall distinguished looking man with silver hair and deep brown eyes exuded self-confidence, yet still came across as friendly and approachable.

"Mr. Hardy, it’s a pleasure to meet you and your sons." Winters greeted them shaking hands with Fenton, Frank and Joe. "Ben Clarkson called earlier and explained why you wanted to see me today and I can’t thank you enough. Many pieces in our jewelry collection are family heirlooms that could never be replaced. However, my wife loves to wear them which is why we keep them here in the house." He shrugged with a smile.

"We’re still not absolutely certain the thieves will strike here next, but it does appear likely that you would be the next victim." Fenton replied.

"Then how can I help you prevent that? What would you like me to do?" Winters asked as he led the Hardy’s to the overstuffed leather chairs and couch in the seating area of his spacious office.

"It would be best if we could catch them in the act." Joe said.

"So you’d like my wife and I to go to New York City as planned tomorrow night." Winters said, realizing the Hardy’s wanted the theft to take place as planned so they could be certain of catching the suspects in the act. He remained silent for a moment before nodding approvingly.

"Exactly." Fenton replied, relieved that Edward Winters understood and approved of what they wanted to do. In his experience, he found that most people would simply want to cancel their plans and stay home, assuring their own possessions were safe – even if only temporarily – while the criminals remained at large.

"With your permission, we’d like to set up a stake out here tomorrow night." Frank explained. "We would arrive before you and your wife left. We’d be inside the house, preferably in the room where the safe is kept, when the theft occurs."

"Then it would simply be a matter of halting the theft and arresting them." Winters commented.

"Technically yes." Fenton replied. "At least we hope it will be simple. Is that something you’d be agreeable to?"

"Absolutely." Winters said, standing up and walking back to his desk. "I assume you’ll need to familiarize yourselves with the layout of the house and the dressing lounge. That’s where we keep the safe." He picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Charles, could you please come in here?"

Almost immediately the door opened and the butler reappeared. "Yes, sir?"

"The Hardy’s need a tour of the house, including the bedrooms, dressing area and the safe. Please show them around and answer any questions they may have."

"Yes, sir." The butler responded and waited for the Hardy’s to rise, then led them out of the room.

The group returned to the foyer, where Joe couldn’t help but take another look at the chandelier, as they made their way up the curved staircase. They walked down a large hallway with antique furniture and centuries old paintings lining the walls. At the end of the hall, the butler opened a set of large double doors that led into a large sitting room.

Over the next few hours, Frank, Joe and Fenton familiarized themselves with every room on the second floor, paying particular attention to the dressing lounge off the master bedroom where the safe was kept. As they descended the stairs once again, Charles showed them down another large hallway with rooms off both sides. Bringing up the rear Joe was peering into each room as they passed, still in awe at the sheer size of each room, when one in particular brought him to a dead stop. It was huge, with a hardwood floor, polished to a high sheen and what appeared to be some kind of stage at one end of the room. Although it had many chairs around the perimeter it was otherwise devoid of furniture.

"Did you see that room?!" Joe whispered harshly at Frank. "Geez, you could put my whole apartment in there and still have room left over!"

"Yes, Joe. It’s a ballroom." Frank replied in a low voice.

"A ballroom?! What the heck do they need a ballroom for?" Joe asked shaking his head as he let his brother pull him away.

After another hour long tour of the rooms on the lower floor, the Hardy’s returned to Edward Winters office and finalized the arrangements for their stake out the following night then departed for Bayport.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent mapping out the details for the next evening. When everything was firmly in place and there was nothing more to do, Frank went into the house to bid his mother goodnight. Wanting to confirm one last detail with his brother, Frank walked back to Joe’s office but stopped short just of entering. Quickly stepping back out of sight, he stood and watched, his heart breaking. Joe had just removed something from the pocket of his jacket, which was hanging over the back of a chair. Frank heard the familiar pop of a small, plastic bottle being opened.

‘Please don’t do it, Joe. I’m right here. Talk to me.’ Frank begged silently.