The two men finished the last of their dinner, having offered Joe none, and slowly got to their feet. Turning they walked back towards Joe, stopping just a few feet in front of him.

"Are you ready to tell us what you did with the envelope?" Malick asked him.

Joe’s answer was a silent glare.

Rashman took a few steps forward until he was standing less than twelve inches from Joe. "Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to answer my friend?" He asked, his eyes locked onto Joe’s. Rashman waited a beat for Joe’s response before his fist lashed out, connecting solidly with Joe’s stomach.

Caught off guard, Joe gasped painfully, falling forward until the chains brought him to an abrupt halt. Immediately, Rashman’s right hand connected with Joe’s chin, snapping his head back into the post.

Spots danced before Joe’s eyes and his vision faded slightly, as he forced himself not to lose consciousness. Focusing on the scar above Rashman’s eye, he shook his head to clear it and saw the big man watching him intently, his gaze never wavering. Joe looked back at him, their eyes locked, each waiting for the other to blink. As Rashman continued staring at Joe closely, Joe became extremely uncomfortable.

"Let me see that airline ticket." Rashman said. He held his hand out, palm up, his eyes never leaving Joe’s.

Malick obediently produced Joe’s ticket, placing it in Rashman’s hand. He looked down at it, noting the name and destination. Returning his gaze to Joe, he held out his hand once more.

"Wallet." He said simply.

Again, Malick dutifully produced Joe’s wallet, placing it in Rashman’s open palm. This time Rashman’s examination was more thorough. Opening the wallet, he looked at Joe’s drivers license through the little plastic window, noting the address. His eyes moved to a second plastic window on the opposite side of the wallet and his gaze lingered there.

A small, tight smile appeared on Rashman’s face and Joe groaned inwardly; Rashman had just made the connection between Joe and Fenton Hardy. From past experience in these kinds of situations, Joe knew this revelation would not work in his favor.

Reaching out, Rashman placed two fingers under Joe’s chin and lifted his head. Using his thumb, he grasped Joe’s chin, turning his face towards Malick. Joe winced, but stifled a painful moan.

"Hurt, does it?" Rashman smiled, noting the very swollen, purple bruise along the left side of Joe’s jaw line. He pressed down hard, causing Joe to flinch but still he remained silent.

"This is your idea of torture?" Malick asked in disgust.

"I haven’t even warmed up yet." Rashman replied ominously. "You see this is why you haven’t moved up in the organization." He continued, abruptly changing the subject and leaving Malick utterly confused.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You don’t pay any attention to details. For instance, look at him." Rashman tugged on Joe’s chin once more. "In the eyes. What do you see? Or rather, what don’t you see?"

Malick peered at Joe closely, although he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for.

"Fear." Rashman said simply. "He has no fear. Well, not yet anyway." He chuckled.

Releasing Joe’s chin, he handed Joe’s airline ticket back to Malick, all the while his gaze never leaving Joe’s face.

"Read it," he ordered. "Name and destination."

"Joe Hardy. Bayport." Malick replied.

Returning Joe’s wallet to Malick, he said "Now the drivers license."

Again, Malick repeated Joe’s name and read his address off the license.

"And what about the other license?" Rashman requested.

"I don’t understand…" Malick began, getting frustrated.

"Read it!" Rashman ordered.

"Fine. Joseph Hardy. Private…" he stopped and looked at Joe. "Private investigator."

"Joseph Hardy." Rashman repeated, smiling. "Private investigator. From Bayport. Even you must know what that means." He said turning to look at Malick.

Finally, Malick understood what Rashman had already known. "Fenton Hardy." He said, gazing at Joe. "You’re Fenton Hardy’s son."

Suddenly Rashman lunged forward, grabbing Joe by the throat and slamming his head back against the fence post. It was the first show of emotion Rashman had made, causing Joe to become very nervous.

Rashman brought his face up just inches from Joe’s and began squeezing his throat.

"Your old man is the reason my brother is rotting in prison right now." He said menacingly. He squeezed harder and Joe began gasping for air. "Knowing I can finally get even with him is going to make my job that much more enjoyable. It'll be sort of like killing two birds with one stone, as the saying goes." He pressed down on Joe’s throat, squeezing as hard as he could, completely cutting off Joe’s supply of air.

Malick watched for a moment as Joe struggled in vain to escape Rashman’s grip and finally stepped forward tugging on Rashman’s arm.

"Hey, come on. We have to find out what he did with the envelope. Once we get that information you can do whatever you want with him. Send him back to Daddy in little pieces for all I care, but we need that envelope first."

Just when Joe was sure he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, Rashman released him. Gasping and taking in huge lungfuls of air, Joe slumped forward and was abruptly stopped by the chains holding him to the fence. A moan escaped his lips as pain surged through his badly burned left arm from the pressure exerted by his weight pulling down on the chain attached to his wrist.

Rashman stepped back, his face neutral once again. "Little pieces." He murmured, still staring at Joe. "I just might do that."

Turning his back on Joe he started to walk away then stopped for a moment. Returning to Joe, Rashman smiled at him.

"You know, technically, it should be impossible for you to escape. However, I’m one of those people who believe nothing is impossible. So let’s take care of that little detail right now and put my mind to rest, shall we?"

Reaching into his pocket, Rashman pulled out a knife holding it in front of Joe's eyes, making sure he got a good look at it. Joe could feel Rashman’s breath on his shoulder. Leaning in closer, Rashman whispered in Joe’s ear. "Let’s just make sure that, should you somehow get out of these chains, you still won’t get very far."

Dropping to his knees, Rashman drove the knife into the top of Joe’s right foot. Gasping at the sudden sharp pain, Joe pulled on the chains that held him but made no other sound, frustrating Rashman with his silence.

"Doesn’t hurt enough? Let’s see if we can fix that."

Driving the knife in further until the hilt was flush against Joe’s skin, Rashman could see Joe was in agony, but refused to give him the satisfaction of a verbal confirmation. Growing angry when Joe didn't respond, Rashman began slowly turning the knife until finally Joe screamed out in pain. Satisfied, Rashman smiled and gave one final push on the knife before pulling it out.

"Now that’s what I like to hear."

Joe’s breath came in short, labored gasps. He could feel the beads of sweat dripping down his face. Shifting his weight, Joe attempted to stand on his uninjured left leg, hoping to ease the intense pain radiating from his foot. Looking down he saw the blood steadily dripping from the open wound and felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes, not sure what hurt more, his bleeding foot or his burned arm.

‘On the bright side,’ Joe thought, sarcastically. ‘At least it made me forget how much my jaw hurts.’

Opening his eyes, Joe watched as Rashman walked to the car on the other side of the campfire and began looking through the trunk. Every once in a while he would glance at Joe, look at something in the trunk and shake his head.

Joe knew Rashman had barely begun to torture him and it would be twice as bad now that he was aware Joe was Fenton Hardy’s son. Vaguely, Joe wondered how much punishment it would take to cause him to pass out. His heart started to beat a little faster as he saw Rashman straighten up and begin walking back towards him.

The light from the fire glinted off something dangling from Rashman’s hand. As Rashman passed the campfire, Joe recognized the object he was carrying. Panic rose inside him and Joe fought to keep it from showing in his eyes. He tensed up as Rashman drew closer, never taking his eyes off the heavy chain dangling from the bald man’s hand.

‘You can do this. Frank will be here. He won’t let you down. Just hang on a little longer.’ Joe told himself, hoping he could remain silent.