Seated across the table from the dark, curly haired man with deep green eyes, Frank debated whether or not to tell him about his parents’ disappearance. As the tall, well-built man eyed him, Frank put on the mask of neutrality he wore like a second skin, making sure his true feelings were known only if and when he wanted them to be. Not wanting to do or say anything that could put his parents in further jeopardy, Frank chose to keep the information to himself for the time being.

"Thanks for coming in this morning, Frank." Vance said. "Joe’s testimony nailed the mid-level of the organization, but yours," he stopped and smiled in anticipation, "yours will bring down Jarrell himself. We’ve been after him for years and never even got close. We’ve never had an opportunity like this before and I don’t want anything to go wrong."

"I understand." Frank smiled agreeably.

"Shall we get started then?"

For the next three hours, Frank and Vance reviewed every detail of Frank’s testimony. The prosecutor went over every question he would pose and every piece of evidence he would present. He then reviewed the most likely questions Frank would be asked by the defense team. When Vance was satisfied Frank’s testimony would be flawless, the two parted. During the drive home, Frank marveled once again, at how Jarrell and his cronies had been able to post the exorbitant amount of cash bail that had been set for them. At the time he feared that he and Joe or their family would quickly become targets of the terrorists, but that had not come to pass. Jarrell and his men had melted into the background to await trial, without so much as a peep being heard from them again.

‘Until now?’ Frank thought as he turned into his driveway.

Entering the house, Frank went straight to the kitchen and put on a strong pot of coffee as the lack of sleep began to catch up with him. Yawning, he inhaled the scent of the slowly brewing coffee when he noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine. Hoping it was Joe with some good news, he pressed the ‘Play’ button. Prepared to hear his brother’s voice, Frank found he was in for a shock.

"Frank, it’s Mom." Frank’s head slowly swiveled towards the machine as his mother’s voice continued. "Your father and I are fine at the moment. Ransom demands will be left in an envelope which Joe is to pick up tonight – alone." Frank’s eyes grew wide at the request. "He will bring the envelope back to you as you are the only one who can fulfill the demands. Joe is to leave at eight o’clock tonight and head west out of Bayport. At eight-o-five, he will be called with instructions directing him to the exact location of the ransom demands. Joe must go alone. If he doesn’t, I will be killed."

The monotone in his mother’s voice and lack of any kind of personal message led Frank to believe Laura had been told exactly what to say in the message. Frank assumed had she deviated at all from what she’d been instructed to say, one or both of his parents would have been injured – or killed. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Frank leaned against the counter deciding how best to tell Joe of this latest development.

*****

As Laura Hardy read from the typed paper in front of her, she glanced at her husband worriedly. Seated with his hands bound and a gun pressed to his temple, Fenton Hardy appeared totally calm. After being instructed to call Frank’s home and leave the carefully worded message, Laura had been told if she altered even one word of the prepared message in an effort to leave some kind of clue, her husband would be shot immediately.

Completing the message, she handed the phone back to one of the heavily armed men standing on either side of her. She and Fenton were then led back to the damp, basement cell where they’d been held since being abducted the previous evening.

"I couldn’t take the chance." Laura said. "I thought of leaving some kind of clue for Frank but…" she shrugged apologetically.

Fenton pulled his wife close to him and held her. As she leaned against his chest, he kissed the top of her head.

"Don’t worry about it." Fenton assured her. "They’ll figure out what’s going on."

"I don’t like them insisting Joe go alone to pick up the ransom demands. Why can’t both boys go? Especially if Frank is the only one who can meet their demands?"

Fenton chuckled softly at his wife’s reference to their sons as ‘boys’. He would periodically remind her they were grown men now, to which she would always reply, "They’ll always be my boys."

"I’m not crazy about Joe going alone either. But I have a feeling no matter how much he insists on following those instructions to the letter, Frank will come up with a way to trail him. With or without Joe’s consent." Fenton assured her.

"I hope so." Laura murmured. She stayed contentedly ensconced in her husband’s arms a moment longer before looking up at him. "Who are they? And what could they possibly want that only Frank could give them?" She asked puzzled.

Fenton was just about to respond, fairly sure he knew who had taken them and why, when the door to the basement opened. Two guards walked in followed by an impeccably well-dressed man, his dark hair neatly combed back and his eyes almost black in color. He radiated an air of authority that sent the message he expected his requests and orders to be obeyed immediately and without question. Approaching the cell door, the aristocratically handsome man stopped just a few feet shy of it, slowly smiling at Fenton and Laura.

Recognizing the man immediately, Fenton moved slightly, positioning himself in front of his wife. Showing no emotion whatsoever, he watched the man waiting for him to speak.

"Hello, Fenton," the man greeted him, only the slightest accent detected in his near perfect English, "so nice to see you again."

Fenton stared at the man whose legendary brutality made him one of the world’s most feared terrorists. He gave barely a nod of recognition.