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guest room. "I don't care how nervous he is," Joe said, knocking heavily on the door. "We need to start getting some answers."
    There was no answer from inside.
    "Chris? You in there?" Frank called.
    He turned the knob slowly. The door swung open.
    "I don't believe it," Frank groaned.
    Joe slammed his hand against the wall.
    The blankets lay on the floor. The sheets had been rolled tight and tied together. One end was knotted around the bedpost. The other hung out of sight—out the window.
    Chris was gone.

Chapter 4
    "So MUCH FOR ANSWERING all our questions in the morning," Frank said, surveying the room.
    Callie and Phil joined them after hearing Joe's outburst. "So what are you going to do now?" Callie asked. Frank pulled the sheets back into the room, untied them, and bundled them up in his arms.
    "I think Joe had the right idea before," he said, leading them all downstairs and dropping the sheets in the laundry. "Find out who Chris really is."
    "And how are we going to do that? We still don't know anything about him!" Joe protested.
    "We do know one thing—where he lives."
    "Right—if the address on his license isn't a fake," Phil pointed out.
    "We can check with the phone company to see if he's listed there," Callie said. She picked up the phone.
    "You could also try to find out more about Krc and Liehm," Phil suggested. "Maybe the Czech embassy knows something about them."
    "About the STB?" Joe shook his head. "Not very likely."
    "And they wouldn't tell us if they did," Frank said. "Especially if those two are involved in a plot to smear Janosik."
    Callie hung up the phone. "There is someone named Hardy in Northampton on Smith Street," she said. "But the number's unlisted."
    "Which leaves us with only one way to find out if it's Chris," Frank said. He turned to Joe. "Can we take the van?"
    Joe frowned. "I had to take the window on the driver's side off completely."
    "You'd better get it replaced if we're going to drive all the way to Massachusetts," Callie said. "The weather report said it might rain."
    "What do you mean, 'we'?" Joe asked. "This case may be too dangerous for you."
    Frank nodded. "I'm afraid Joe's right, Callie."
    Callie glared at both of them. "Forget what I said about getting that window replaced. You're both all wet already!"
    "Ouch," Joe said, shaking his head. "I'll check the repair shops."
    It took them almost an hour to find a shop that could replace the window, and another five hours of steady driving before they reached the outskirts of Northampton. They had stayed off the big interstate highways and stuck to smaller roads, which made for a more scenic drive if a longer one. By the time they drove into Northampton, both of them were anxious to get out and stretch.
    "Hey," Joe said, pointing ahead. A huge shopping mall sprawled on both sides of the road. "Let's stop and get something to eat before we look for Chris."
    Frank yawned. His lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to him. "I guess I could use a cup of coffee."
    They locked the van and entered the mall. "All right!" Joe pointed to a sign ahead that said, "Humongous Hamburgers." He grinned. "I see what I want!"
    "You go ahead," Frank said, catching sight of a coffee shop. "I'll meet you back here."
    He strolled over and stood in the entrance for a moment. The coffee shop was empty, except for a waitress who sat on a stool at the far end of the counter. Her back to the door, she was counting out change and watching a small black-and-white television set. Frank walked in. "Excuse me," he called. The clatter of a fresh handful of change from her apron drowned out his voice.
    Frank walked toward the counter. He was about to tap her on the shoulder when he noticed a newspaper lying in the last booth. It was a Boston paper — the Tribune—and it was opened to the international page. The headline had caught Frank's eye "Bum Czech?" The byline was Jean Eykis's. He read on.
    "Alexander Janosik, the noted Czechoslovakian dissident, will