Stefan Gregov stood at his living room window, staring out at the rain-drenched street below him, thinking about his mother. She loved rainy days like this for some strange reason. Then he frowned as Semyon entered his thoughts.  

I wonder if that family of his has realized what a brat he is, the young man thought. In Stefan’s eyes, his little brother had been nothing but trouble. Semyon had stolen his mother after all.  

Taking in a deep drag on his cigarette, he held the smoke in for several seconds, then slowly let it out as his attention was caught by a lone figure walking down the street. He ducked under an awning as the rain picked up again. He was holding an umbrella but didn’t appear to be in any sort of hurry. Stefan reached for his binoculars and trained them on the young man.  

And gasped. Semyon. He was sure of it. The little brat was a male version of their mother.  

Milov had been right after all. “I’ll have to give him a raise,” Stefan mused out loud.  

As he stared at Semyon, a plan began to form in his mind. He smiled. “We have to catch up, Semyon,” he said as the man opened his umbrella and stepped back out on the sidewalk.  

“But don’t worry, little brother. I’ll find you.”  

***  

Frank hurried down the sidewalk in the rain. He’d ducked under an awning to answer his cell phone. It had been Joe, checking on him. They had checked out the building that morning and through a window had seen Matt Walker. Since he was tied to a chair and had obviously been beaten, Frank and Joe assumed he was not there voluntarily and that Milov had been lying.  

Today was Friday, and the plan now was to spring Matt early the next morning and wait for their father to arrive.  

Meanwhile, Frank had used the afternoon to begin his hunt for the apartment building where he’d lived. He’d found the right street, but still hadn’t found the right building. So much about the neighborhood had changed; some buildings were gone completely, others had been repainted or rebricked, successfully changing most of the landmarks that Frank remembered.  

Three blocks later he saw it. Exactly the way he remembered it. Glancing both ways at the street, he darted across. Mounting the low steps, he pushed the front door open and deposited his umbrella in the stand, then turned to the row of mailboxes on the right side of the door.  

A slow smile spread across his face as he saw the name he wanted to see, over the box for 3B. Please remember me! he begged silently as he mounted the stairs. He didn’t trust the elevators in this building, or any other building in Moscow for that matter.  

Stopping in front of 3B, he stood at the door, a hundred memories flooding his thoughts. He raised his hand and knocked sharply on the door three times.  

“Who is it?” an elderly female voice called out.  

Frank took a deep breath to steady his now racing heart, and spoke the name he hadn’t used in fifteen years. “Semyon Gregov.”  

The sound of a chain being unlatched rattled through the still air, then a bolt clicked and the door swung open. Anna Damirov stared at the young man standing on her doorstep. Older, much taller, and the spitting image of his mother. “My how you’ve grown,” she whispered. She stepped back and ushered him in, taking his wet jacket and fussing over him like a grandmother.  

“You must be chilled. Come to the kitchen while I make some tea.”  

Frank followed the old woman into the kitchen and sat down at the small table. The flat was much the same as he remembered it, but now he could see the wear to the furniture, the threadbare carpet, the discolored walls. But Mrs. Damirov was the same, just a little older, hair a little whiter.  

The kettle was on now and she sat down at the table. “Tell me where you’ve been, Semyon. This building hasn’t been the same without you.”  

He thought about telling her his name was Frank now, but quickly abandoned that idea. Hearing “Semyon” from her felt right somehow, almost as if it were his mother speaking to him. “I’ve been in the US , in a little town called Bayport not too far from New York City .”  

The old blue eyes lit up. “You have been there?”  

Frank nodded and smiled. They had often dreamed of what it would be like to visit New York City and see Central Park and Times Square and walk down Fifth Avenue . “Many, many times. I even lived there for a little while! And I have a little brother now. His name is Joe.”  

“Your parents?”  

“The best in the world!” he announced proudly. He pulled out his wallet and showed her the last family picture they’d had taken, a little over a year ago. “Dad’s a detective, and I have a black car.”  

Anna’s smile lit up her entire face, making the years fade away. She was the only other person besides Sophia that Frank had confided with about his dreams of being a detective. “You are in college now?”  

Frank nodded. “Joe and I are going to join Dad when we graduate. Every dream I ever had has come true. I even have a pilot’s license!”  

“I am so proud of you,” old Anna said softly. The kettle whistled and she quickly moved to finish preparing the tea.  

“Would Mama be proud of me?” His voice was soft, reluctant almost, but he couldn’t help asking. He had to know.  

Anna set the tea cups on the table and cupped Frank’s chin in her hand. “She would be very proud of you. She loved you more than you will ever know, Semyushka.”  

Frank breathed deeply as he reached for his tea, telling himself not to cry. “I still miss her so much,” he whispered.  

“Have your parents let you be Russian?”  

“Yes. They’ve never made me feel like I have to forget her, or where I’m from.” He looked up from where he’d been staring at the embroidery on the tablecloth. “They’re coming in tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to meet them?”  

Anna smiled. “I would like that very much.”  

The two finished their tea, chatting some more about what Frank had been doing for the last fifteen years. When they were done, Anna set the tea cups in the sink, took Frank’s hand and led him from the kitchen and into the bedroom.  

“Get the box down from the top of the closet.”  

Frank did so, and set it on the bed.  

“In that box are the things your mother treasured most. Take it with you.”  

He stared at the box, touching it reverently. “Where is she buried?”  

“Vagankov Cemetery, on the south side.” She hugged him tightly and then touched his face. “You need to get going. The street isn’t safe after dark.”  

Frank couldn’t help himself and he hugged her one more time. This woman had been such an important part of his young life. “I’ll be back with Mom and Dad and Joe in a couple of days.”  

Anna nodded, then followed him as he picked up the box and left. She walked over to the window and watched him get into a taxi. The old woman was wishing she believed in God so she could pray Stefan had not seen his little brother. 

 

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.