Later that night during dinner, Frank decided to pursue the subject for further discussion with his father. He was eager to hear the updates on the case of the missing senator Sam's investigating. He couldn't quite put a finger on it but there was something about the mystery intrigued him, something that kept nagging at the back of his mind for some mysterious reason.

"Hey, Dad, how's that case with Senator Haydin going on? Any new lead?" Frank asked, staring earnestly at his father who sat at the head of the table, and at the same time gesturing to Joe to pass him the garlic bread.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm glad you asked about that, Frank," Fenton Hardy said. Now, not only Frank's ears perked up but Joe's too. Though Joe didn't understand what was so interesting about the case, he could never resist a good mystery once in a while.

"Sam called me this morning. Turns out that the press is not told everything about it." Fenton paused to take a bite of pasta. "Haydin had been spotted not once, but twice by the NYPD last week. First when he was coming out of a music store on East 34th and then at Barnes and Noble. Traffic was bad and they lost him."

"He's in New York?" Frank gawked. "Bayport is just outside New York."

"Exactly the reason why Sam wanted me to look into this matter since he's still held up in Georgia. There's still an extensive investigation over there because suddenly 3 of the land-developers disappeared without a trace and there's still the issue of the 50 million dollars..."

"I thought all that money has been recovered and the account's been frozen?" Frank asked, frowning.

"Yes, but not before he managed to get away with $2 million in cash and bonds." Fenton turned to his younger son. "Joseph, you seem awfully quiet tonight. You feeling alright?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine," Joe answered absent-mindedly as he held out his plate for his mom to help serve him with his second helping of Laura Hardy's special spinach raviolis. "Just have a lot on my mind."

"Oh? Care to share with the rest of us?"

"Fenton, he's just thinking about the new play he's going to be in. Aren't you, honey?" Laura smiled affectionately at her younger son.

"A play?" Fenton's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know you could act!"

"He still doesn't," Frank quipped. "You should hear him sing, Dad. He sounds just like Donald Duck with a bad case of flu." Joe just glared at him without saying a word.

"C'mon, Joe, tell us something about it," Fenton said. "It's nice to know our sons are still DOING something in school. God knows with all the mysteries you guys got yourselves into, I was beginning to think you guys are missing out on your lives. You know, doing things teenagers do."

"We love what we do, Dad," Frank said gently. "Don't we, Joe?" Joe nodded.

"So, honey, how's the play coming along?" Laura asked, changing the subject. Although she allowed her children to sometimes be involved in something that could be dangerous and deadly like sleuthing, she was still reluctant to talk about it and it terrified her everytime Frank and Joe were on a case.

Joe began telling them everything about the Phantom, his new teacher, and how psyched he was. As Joe chattered enthusiastically, Frank's mind was racing. He intended to convince his father later into letting him help with the case but knowing how busy Joe was going to be with the school project, he was prepared to do some research on his own.

"Where are you going?" Frank was passing Joe's room when he stopped at the door. Joe was trying to juggle between pulling on his jeans and combing his hair, somehow ending up doing neither when the comb got tangled in his hair and his jeans with his legs. Giving up, Joe took off the offending garments and put on a pair of khakis instead.

"I'm late for a rehearsal," Joe said hurriedly, rushing to his closet to get his jacket. "Mr. Weinhardt is picking me up in about-" he risked a glance at his watch, "50 seconds ago." As if on cue, the doorbell rang. "That's him."

"A rehearsal? Now? It's 11 p.m. already! Is this guy nuts or what?" Frank exclaimed, watching as his brother ran to and fro around his cluttered, messy room. Typical Joe behavior. The only time he cleaned the room was when Vanessa was coming over.

"Frank, we're late behind schedule and there are still a few acts that are not sorted out," Joe answered exasperatedly. He glanced at the door when the doorbell rang again. "Look, I don't know when I'll be back but don't worry, okay? It's not as if we're doing anything. We're just rehearsing the play, that's all."

"Where?" Frank pressed. He still wasn't satisfied. He had never heard of a play rehearsal being done so late in the night.

"The school hall. Mr Weinhardt asked for the keys from the janitor this morning," Joe answered, already out the door. "Tell Mom and Dad when they get back from the party that I'm over at Biff's, will you? Thanks."

"Are the rest of the cast going to be there?" Frank asked, following Joe down the stairs. "Vanessa? And Biff? Any chaperone?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Joe said, annoyed. "Duh, Frank, Mr. Weinhardt IS the chaperone. Jeez, what's wrong with you tonight? I've never seen you this uptight before."

"Yeah, well, it's just that-" How could Frank answer to that? That he had a bad feeling? That he was suspicious of what his brother might be doing at this late an hour? Bayport is not New York, the city that never sleeps. Practically the whole town would be quiet by 11.30 p.m., midnight at the latest.

"See ya." With that Joe disappeared out the door, leaving Frank standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Hello?" Frank spoke into the mouthpiece a few minutes later. "Uh, Mrs. Bender? This is Frank Hardy, Joe's brother." There was a pause and Frank spoke again.

"No, no, everything's fine, Mrs. Bender." Frank had to smile at that. Everytime it's Frank Hardy on the phone, they'll go like oh is something wrong? Has something happened? It figures, Hardy. With a reputation like yours, people don't think of your calls as social calls.

"Yeah, I just want to know - is Vanessa around?" A pause. "When did she leave?" Another pause. At last Frank's face broke into a smile. "Right. Thanks, Mrs. Bender." His smile broadened. "No, everything's fine. Just making sure, just feeling a little paranoid. And stupid, that's all. Thanks again, Mrs. Bender."

Well, that checked it out I guess, Frank thought after hanging up. Vanessa had told her mom that she had some school project to work on and went out half an hour ago with Charlene Madison, another girl who was also in the play. Paranoid, that's all. Joe can take care of himself. Always does too whenever he doesn't have his over-protective brother hogging around wherever he goes.

A little while later, Frank was already logged on the Net. Since Senator Garret Haydin did not exactly have a reputation as a cold-blooded murderer or serial rapist before this, he doubted that he was going to find anything about him in the casefiles his father had filed so neatly so he decided to check on his background. Frank couldn't find anything much on him, just the fact that he had a wife who gave birth to a pair of twins before passing on soon after and that he never remarried. No girlfriends, no affairs, no mysterious vacations either. This guy is squeaky clean, Frank couldn't help thinking. The perfect cover to begin with before launching into some big, money-making scheme like this, if you can call it money-making.

Frank could find nothing much of his past though. Born in Savannah, Georgia in 1953, raised by a clerk and a teacher, early education, blah di blah...Oh, here's something. Majored in Psychology and Human Behavior in the University of Omaha...Hmm, that's probably where hypnosis came in, he guessed. Frank began to feel sleepy at a quarter to one a.m. but he tried to suppress the drowsy feeling, intending to stay awake until Joe came home. Checking his email he was delighted to find that Callie had sent him a new message from New York City. His girlfriend had been chosen to represent the country in the Special Forum on children and young people at the United Nations and wouldn't be back until the next week after the international forum adjourned. I am so proud of you, Callie, Frank thought. She must be having a lot of fun, meeting lots of people, making new friends...God, I miss her.

Shutting off the computer, Frank began to feel agitated. Where is Joe? Without anyone else around, the silence that had befallen on the house was overwhelming. Frank got up and looked out the window. Not a soul in sight, just blackness. Black-pea soup. Great.

Frank went down to the kitchen and fixed himself a big mug of coffee, needing the caffeine more than ever after his eyelids threatened to drop more than once, all the while thinking how late it was for Joe to still be out on a school night. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of engine. A quick look out the kitchen window made out a car strolling slowly but it didn't stop. Guess that's not Joe, he thought. Sitting at the kitchen table and sipping slowly from his mug, he began to feel a little refreshed.

Refreshed meant Frank Hardy's mind would begin working again at its normal functions and pace, and this time he didn't miss the same car which had been imitating a merry-go-round around the Hardys' house for the third time now. Or was it the fourth?

What is this guy doing? Frank thought, his senses telling him that something was amiss, detecting danger which he was accustomed to. The line of work doesn't exactly come with a raise in the salary or flowers, he thought grimly.

Getting up slowly and acting as if nothing was happening in case whoever in the car was watching, he deposited the mug into the sink and walked out of the kitchen, switching the lights off. There it comes again, Frank saw the car out the corner of his eyes. I've got to do something.

Slowly opening the door to the basement a crack, he slid a hand in and grabbed the first thing he touched. Ah, good, a golf club. That will do, he thought. He went to the front door and cautiously stuck his head out. There was nobody outside. No car, either. Probably making a 360 degree turn round the lot. Wherever it was Frank was sure it would come around again. This time I'll be ready.

Frank felt a little nervous when nothing happened for the next couple of minutes. He was tempted to go around to the back of the house to check it out but the silence, not to mention the pitch-black night were conspiring together to send chills down his back. And to make things worse, he didn't have Joe around to back him up either.

He was about to go back into the house when he was suddenly splashed by a glare of bright, blinding light. Squinting frantically, he could hear the unmistakable sound of roaring engine. His vision cleared in time to see the car jumped over the curb, trampling over flower bends and grass as the tires squealed, heading toward him on a head-on collision course at lightning speed, with nothing between them but 20 feet of grass!

Pain PG