HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

Fenton Hardy's first stop was the Bridgetown police department. Although it looked much like all other police departments the world over, there was a briskness and efficiency about this one that showed it's British origins. He headed for the front desk but someone stepped in front of him. "Mr. Hardy."

Fenton saw it was Jesse Sheridan. "Hello."

"I'd like you to meet my partner, Drake Bertram."

Fenton nodded to the other man, also dark-haired and dark-eyed like Jesse. "Hello."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Drake Bertram's voice was quiet and full of compassion.

Fenton managed a nod. "I need to see the information you have."

Jesse looked rather uncomfortable. "Technically, you're a civilian. Technically, you're too close to this to even think about helping out. Mr. Hardy--"

"Don't you dare stand there and give me a lecture on rules and regulations." Fenton's voice was low and throbbed with anger.

"Mr. Hardy, come this way," said Drake.

Jesse looked at his partner. "Drake, we--"

"This is payback, partner. As I recall I protested two years ago and you ran roughshod over my opinion."

"That was--" Jesse Sheridan sighed. "You've been waiting two years to get me back for that?"

"And if she ever finds out what you did, concerning her personal life, you'll wish you were never born."

Jesse rolled his eyes. "It was crucial at the time. I assure you." He trailed Fenton and Drake as the latter led the way deeper into the building, finally coming to the basement level.

Drake stopped at a pair of double doors. "When new techniques came out, we had to find space for our CSI unit and the laboratories and such. Since the basement was already fitted out for the morgue and labs, we decided to put CSI down here as well." He pushed open the doors to reveal a short corridor. One door was labeled morgue, the other labeled Crime Scene Investigations.

The three men walked in, to find two women chatting softly. Both were blond and slender. One held a mug of coffee and was clad in a knee-length skirt and matching blouse. She turned and smiled at Drake. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to. We need to go home if we're having guests."

Drake walked over to the woman and kissed her cheek. "Ashley, do you mind going on alone. I'll be by later."

Ashley's hazel eyes searched Drake's face and then shifted to Fenton. "Oh," she said in the faintest of southern accents. "Of course." She looked at Jesse. "You two better not be late."

Jesse rolled his eyes but saluted. "As long as you're serving good food, I'll be there."

The other woman was clad in jeans and a Georgia Tech T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she wore scuffed cowboy boots. "Drake, Jesse, what brings you two..." Her voice trailed off as she looked from them to Fenton. "Oh." She shoved her chair back and shot Sheridan a glare. "You know, if you weren't so charming, I'd have to talk to Gillian."

"Hey, I didn't bring him down here." Jesse pointed a finger at Drake. "This is all his idea."

The woman looked unconvinced. She held out a hand to Fenton. "Emma Winters, CSI. It's Easter, so technically no one's here but..." She shrugged. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to see the metal plating you found the bullet hole in."

She gave a cautious nod. "Okay, I think I can accommodate you but you won't find anything." She led the way down a corridor, into a warren of cubicles. In one cubicle, on the table, sealed in plastic wrap was the metal fragment. Fenton spotted the hole instantly.

"Judging from the width of the bullet hole and the damage to the metal, I'm thinking it was from a semi-automatic weapon, possibly an armor-piercer." Emma rested one hip against a file cabinet and folded her arms across her chest. "Going from that, I'm assuming it was deliberate."

Fenton took a deep breath. "Yes."

Emma nodded. "Look, I'm not going to say Bridgetown is perfect. We have our fair share of crime and corruption just as any other city in the world. We don't have much, but we have it. We're doing everything we can to track down that weapon. The shooter couldn't have brought it with him, for one thing. Airport security is strict and even if the weapon had been in pieces, it would still have been caught."

"She's right," said Drake. "Now our biggest problem actually is smuggling, modern-day piracy, that sort of thing. I won't deny the possibility that the weapon could have been brought in that way. The problem is, with smuggled arms or goods, we don't actually have the bill of sale to track it down."

"Our best bet is to see if anyone ends up with it. We've kept tabs on the pawn shops around the island, just in case but nothing's turned up," said Jesse. "Granted the shooter also could have tossed the weapon in the ocean and trust me, the Queen won't authorize dragging the ocean looking for it."

Fenton tore his gaze from the bullet hole. "Queen?"

Drake cleared his throat. "Gillian King, is our immediate boss and an inspector."

Fenton nodded. "I met her earlier. She came by to offer...to offer condolences."

Jesse's jaw dropped. "She did?"

Drake punched Jesse's shoulder. "Don't start."

Fenton took a deep breath and veered for the doors. "Thank you."

Jesse stepped in front of him again. "Look...this isn't a time for revenge. That shooter may have...may have just gotten lucky, maybe he's targeting the whole family...look..." He shook his head. "It's not safe for you to run off half-cocked--"

Drake grabbed his partner's arm and pulled him back. "Jesse, enough."

Fenton stood there for a long moment, not really looking at anything. Finally, he looked at Jesse. "You're right. But I'm not risking anyone else's life but my own this time." He barreled through the door and was gone.

Jesse Sheridan pulled free of Drake's hold. "Shit, partner."

"Don't take it out on me."

Emma walked slowly back into the main area. She picked up her purse and sunglasses. "Well...I know good and well, Ashley cooked everything yesterday. She told me. Let's go."

Jesse frowned. "Who invited you?"

Emma rolled her brown eyes. "Ashley did. Who invited you?"

Jesse jabbed a thumb in Drake's direction. "He did."

"I did not. I just wanted you to drop me at home on your way."

The three of them left the CSI department and started for the stairs leading to the first floor. Jesse gave Drake an indignant look. "So...you were going to eat all that ham by yourselves?"

Drake laughed. "Why not? More for us."

Jesse grunted. "Well, I'm inviting myself, so there. And what do you mean it's on my way?"

***

Frank frowned. "How is that even possible? How can history be changed? I mean, it's recorded. Everyone knows that Columbus found the New World, that sort of thing..."

Harry took a deep breath. "History isn't really set in stone. People who study the theory of time travel say the least little incident in the past that's changed can alter the future in astonishing ways."

"Imagine if someone had assassinated Hitler. He would have become a martyr and his army would have venerated him as such, possibly becoming unstoppable. Imagine this world as the Third Reich," said Jack hoarsely.

Frank looked over at him. "No. That's..."

"Think about it," said Harry. "What if the Roman Empire had strengthened, spread out all that much more? What if today, the Roman Catholic Church, the last vestige of that Empire, was the global church?"

Frank shook his head. "But how can one incident--?"

"One incident started a war--started each war," said Jack, staring off into space.

Frank stared at each man in turn. "My brother...just because...if he is...back there--he could change everything?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Obviously it's starting. The plantation house looks like it's falling down, the chest of treasure suddenly appearing."

Jack went pale. He looked around almost frantically and then headed for the ladder. "I have to get out of here." He bolted up the wooden ladder, shoved the trapdoor open and took off.

Jimmy got to his feet. "Maybe I should go after him."

Harry grabbed his arm. "Let him be. He'll be back in time." He looked over at Frank. "Well, do you have your answer now?"

Frank found he needed to get out of the hole as well. He darted up the ladder and savored the sunshine and ocean. He took a deep breath and tried to wrap his mind around what the men had said. Time travel...changing history? Frank shuddered just as the oddest wind swept over him.

It was hot and cold at the same time, seemed to come from every direction and none. Frank shivered and looked around. In the distance, he saw a man trudging slowly toward him. Well, Frank thought it was a man. The figure was clad in knee-high boots, long vest and grungy shirt with billowing sleeves. He had a pistol stuck through the belt on his pants on one side, a sword and scabbard on the other. The sun glinted off of things hanging in his hair and on the rings on his fingers.

Frank heard Jimmy and Harry climb up to level ground. Harry frowned. "Who is that, I wonder?"

The man came closer and then stopped. "What the bloody hell is that monstrosity?" he asked, in a faint British accent, staring blank-eyed at the helicopter.

Harry cleared his throat. "Where's Jack?"

The man gave Harry an odd look. "Do I know you?" The man shook his head. "No, of course not." He gave an expressive sigh. "I'm Jack. Captain Jack Sparrow." He whipped his tri-cornered hat off his head and bowed. "Now who the hell are you?" Cautiously, Sparrow approached the helicopter. "Is it a dragon?"

"It's called a helicopter," said Frank.

Sparrow looked at him and frowned. He stepped closer until he was face to face with Frank. He narrowed his eyes and studied Frank closely. "The eyes...the eyes are different...and the hair."

Frank caught the scent of sun-warmed skin, the salty tang of ocean-soaked clothing long since dried and something else. The man was real but this was impossible. "What do you mean?"

"Dressed like him too." Sparrow squinted over at Harry. "Hmm, well, can I get on board?" He nodded to the helicopter. "Looks a bit cramped, if ye ask me."

"It's noisy too," said Frank, taking a step back. "You didn't answer my question."

"Looks to me as if we've a bit of a quandary, my good fellow. Perhaps ye can get me inside that bloody thing and I'll answer your question."

"Why?"

Sparrow arched a dark eyebrow at him. "Why? Why?" He turned halfway around and gestured to the island. "Because I've had enough sand, and wind and...and palm trees to last me a lifetime. Because I'm bloody tired of being stranded on deserted islands." He spun back around to look at Frank. "And I had not a drop of rum this time, thanks to that bloody girl who burned it all."

Sparrow nodded in the direction of the helicopter. "If that beast can get me to Tortuga, I'll answer all your questions."

"We are on Tortuga," said Harry.

Sparrow stared over at Harry and shook his head. "That commodore...he ran them all off, didn't he. Every last wench...." He cleared his throat and noticed them all staring. "Hmm?"

"I don't think you understand..." said Frank, not so sure he understood either. "You're not exactly on the Tortuga you might be familiar with."

"Might be? I've known every nook and cranny and wench on Tortuga." He narrowed his eyes and looked around. "Although their location at the moment escapes me."

Something swept over the island like an invisible wave, coming from everywhere and nowhere. The force of it made Frank stagger and he grabbed hold of the closest thing to keep from falling. Jack Sparrow looked down at Frank's hand gripping his wrist and then up at Frank, an odd, almost staring look in his eyes.

Sparrow yanked his arm free and then stared at the palm of his other hand. His eyes widened and he looked in the direction of the ocean.

Frank felt an inexplicable shudder pass through him. He'd been searching for something...

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.