What starts out as a Spring Break spent helping their father solve a case soon turns into a dangerous confrontation with one of the biggest organized crime syndicates in Atlanta. Along the way, one of the Hardy boys will have to deal with a pain that no young boy should ever have to deal with... a pain that will either turn him into a man or destroy him forever.

A/N: In this story, Frank is 13, Joe is 12. I accept all reviews that offer comments or criticism, but I find flaming to be completely unnecessary. Don't forget, folks… this is fiction. If you don't like it, ignore me quietly. Oh yeah, and I don't own the Hardy Boys. Enjoy! :)

Polaris

Red Handed

"Joe!"

The call cut across the early morning calm, disrupting the peace and solitude of the Hardy household. It was followed immediately by footsteps pounding up the stairs and a door being slammed open.

"Joe!" Frank Hardy crossed his brother's bedroom floor in two steps and grabbed Joe's shoulder, shaking him awake. "Come on, Joey, get up!"

At the sound of his brother's voice, Joe was immediately on alert. Sitting up quickly, his eyes darted around the room.

"What's wrong, Frank?" he demanded, jumping out of bed and looking around for the source of the trouble.

"Wrong?" Frank wrinkled his nose. "Nothing's wrong! Come on, wake up! Dad says if we want to help him with this case then we have to be ready to go in five minutes." He glanced down at his watch. "That was four minutes ago. I'm packed, we're waiting on you!"

"What?" Joe yelped. "How did it take you four minutes to get up here and tell me that? How am I supposed to be ready in one minute?"

"Not by yelling at me," Frank sniffed. "Let's go, move it!" Turning around, he dashed from the room and back down the stairs. Joe shook his head, hurrying to put on the nearest clothes he could find and pull his duffel from the top of his closet. Frank had far too much energy for a Monday morning, even if they were on spring break. Of course, Joe was normally even more hyperactive than his older brother, at least when he was fully charged, so Frank's energy rarely caught him off guard. Sometimes it was even amusing.

Mostly, though, it was just exasperating.

Joe had just finished throwing anything he thought might be useful into his duffel when the pounding footsteps heralded Frank's approach for the second time.

"Three… two… one…" Joe muttered under his breath, listening to the footsteps. Sure enough, Joe had just finished counting when Frank burst into the room yet again, hopping around impatiently.

"Come on, Joe!" the older brother urged. "We're leaving now!"

"I'm coming!" Joe yelled, his own energy level starting to pick up as he became more awake. "Just settle down for two minutes, will you?" He grinned in spite of himself though; he was just as excited as Frank was to be helping their father with one of his cases. Some parents would be horrified at the idea of taking two young boys so close to danger, but Fenton Hardy was no fool. He did not expect this particular case to be dangerous, and he had made triple-sure it was cleared with his wife.

Sprinting after Frank down the stairs, Joe stopped briefly in the kitchen to grab an apple for the road and to say good-bye to Laura Hardy, sitting at the table with a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

"Bye, Mom," he said, kissing her on the cheek as he scrambled around the counter in a frenzy.

"Slow down," she answered automatically as Joe skidded on the linoleum floor in his haste. "Bye, sweetie. Be safe, ok?"

"Sure thing!" he called, running from the room and out to the car where Fenton and Frank were already waiting impatiently.

"Ok, I'm here!" Joe wheezed, breathing heavily. "Go, go!"

As the airplane took them towards Atlanta, Fenton closed his eyes and laid his head back in the seat, listening with amusement and pride as his two sons chatted excitedly between themselves, anticipating the case ahead.

He smiled to himself. They had helped him on cases before, and were already fairly skilled as detectives, particularly for being as young as they were. The foundation was definitely set. When they got older – and maybe calmed down a little – they would be a truly formidable team. He frowned suddenly. If they ever calmed down a little. Their conversation had gradually become quite a bit louder than 'inside voices' and turned into arguing.

"Did you boys finish reading the file?" Fenton asked quietly, leaning over to them and interrupting their arguement. "You know when we get to Atlanta we're going to have to meet with Juarez right away, so you won't have time to catch up later."

"Yup," Frank answered, guiltily lowering his voice back to normal. Joe nodded, also realizing that their talking had gotten - once again - too loud.

"Good," Fenton said with a smile. At least they caught on quickly. "Let's go over the details then."

"The case is for Almonzo Juarez," Joe began dutifully. "He's a small business owner in Atlanta and he suspects that one of his top employees has been embezzling funds."

"He's already tried going to the police," Frank continued, reciting the details that both boys had already committed to memory. "But they can't do anything without evidence, and Juarez doesn't have any. The police don't want to help him out because he's paranoid and has come to them before with all sorts of claims that have yet to turn out being true."

"What's the suspect's name?" Fenton grilled them.

"Bill Steinway," both the brothers answered together. "He's the company accountant," Joe added. "He's worked for Juarez for almost two years, but they never got along."

"And our plan of action?" Fenton asked, his face unreadable. They had not yet discussed what exactly they were going to do when they landed, and he was interested in what his boys would come up with. If he had hoped to trip them up with the question, however, he was disappointed. Clearly this had been part of their discussion before they had gotten too rowdy.

"We thought we could start by going over the company records," Frank answered, his face growing serious for a change. "Just to prove that funds are, in fact, disappearing. We can talk to the local police and get a warrant to get Juarez's and Steinway's phone and financial records. They might not want to help Juarez out themselves, but if we're the ones doing the work it shouldn't be too hard to get them to cooperate."

"When we find something," Joe continued, optimistically opting for 'when' as opposed to 'if'. "We arrest Steinway and the day is saved!"

Hiding a smile at the last statement, Fenton eyed his boys carefully. He liked what he heard. It was a good plan: simple was usually best. It had been well thought out and would make perfectly logical sense to anyone, with one exception.

"Why do you want Juarez's phone and financial records?" the private investigator asked Frank, his face still unreadable.

"In case he's trying to frame Steinway, and he's really stealing the money himself," Frank answered, apparently confused as to why this hadn't been obvious. "Everyone's a suspect, isn't that what you always say? It just seems that no one ever remembers to include the man who's paying you the money."

At this, Fenton actually did laugh out loud. Frank and Joe glanced at each other in confusion. It had made sense to them, they weren't sure what was amusing about the fact.

"Well said, Frank!" Fenton finally managed to say amid gasps of laughter. "That's very astute of you... but in this case I don't think you have to worry about the 'man who's paying you the money'. Juarez is an old friend of mine, that's why he called me up on this case. Take my word for it, he's not the type who would steal from himself and then accuse someone else."

"Oh," Frank sighed, disappointed. Fenton continued chuckling and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"It really was a good thought though, Frank," he said. "I'm proud of you boys... it was a good plan you came up with, and I think we'll go ahead and follow it. With any luck at all, we'll have this solved and be home by Thursday."

While the Hardys were flying into Atlanta, two other men were busy at work in a rundown area of the city. Moving quickly and silently, the two hurried about their business, moving crates out of the back of a truck and into a large storage warehouse. They kept their hats pulled low over their faces and their jackets zipped tightly up to their neck. Their heads were pointed down to the ground, though they continuously scanned the streets around them, checking over their shoulder to make sure no one disturbed them.

When the truck was empty and the storage garage full, the two men closed and padlocked the door before getting into the truck and driving away. One of them pulled out a cell phone and pressed the first number on speed dial. When a voice on the other end answered, he broke the silence in the cab for the first time.

"Tell him we're ready."

TBC