Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank could easily see the piece of leather was in no way constricting Joe’s airway and in fact was fairly loose, but that did nothing to ease Joe’s suffering. He kept his voice low and soothing. “Yes, you can.” Joe had closed his eyes again, now close to hyperventilating.

“It’s…choking me! Get it off – PLEASE!”

Frank squeezed his arm again, tighter this time, fighting the urge to do exactly what Joe was asking. “Joe, you can breathe. Open your eyes and look at me,” he said calmly. When Joe did as he asked and Frank saw the panic there, his heated gaze flickered to the man who’d ordered this. ‘Damn you!’ he thought, refocusing on Joe. “Think about Vanessa, the wedding, the honeymoon – and breathe,” he encouraged. “Slow and easy…just relax and breathe…that’s it…” Frank stared at Joe as if they were the only two people in the room, refusing to break eye contact until Joe’s harsh, ragged breathing became a little steadier. “See? Piece of cake,” Frank smiled.

“Yeah,” Joe replied, his voice not quite as composed. “How long?” he asked, as if Frank should know exactly what he meant.

‘Huh?’ Frank thought, confused. “How long?”

“How long…” Joe repeated, stopping to inhale and exhale as if he had to concentrate solely on that natural act, unable to focus on talking and breathing at the same time. “…do I have to wear this?”

Joe was holding on – barely – and Frank wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain that tenuous grip once they were separated. A muscle in Frank’s jaw twitched and he eyed the leader malevolently. “Can’t you put it somewhere else?” Frank demanded. “His arm, his ankle…anywhere else?”

The man was already shaking his head. “The timer’s already been started. It’s set to detonate immediately if anyone tries to remove it. I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere.

“A lot of good that does,” Frank shot back, dragging a hand through his hair.

Quickly reviewing what they’d been told a few minutes earlier, he looked at his watch. ‘The train comes through at eleven-eighteen…Three hours?!’ He glanced at Joe, not sure what his brother’s reaction would be if faced with the fact he had to contend with the constant reminder of Keith Rashman for the next three hours. “Just a little while longer,” Frank finally replied to Joe’s question. “We’ll be home before you know it. Everything’ll turn out fine. You just need to relax and hang in there, okay?”

Joe looked dubious but nodded slightly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Frank smiled and patted his shoulder. “Good.” He stood and took a few steps back still watching Joe. His heart ached at how hard Joe was trying. Under any other circumstances he might find it laughable, the thought of someone trying so desperately to project an air of calm, but this was his brother…and he was hurting…

“What was that all about?” the leader asked throwing a curious glance at Joe.

Frank turned towards the man, glowering. “You just threw him headfirst right back into his worst nightmare.”

*****

Fenton Hardy was pacing in the backyard. He and Sam had been stunned upon hearing the plans for holding up the rail car and knew they couldn’t possibly pull off a rescue on their own. Reluctantly Fenton had contacted Bayport Police Chief Ezra Collig and filled him in, requesting his old friend’s help. Ezra had been shocked but promised to round up Detective Con Riley and come right over.

Fenton had then briefed Laura, leaving out a few details he felt she didn’t need to know, promising her their sons would be home by evening. He then sent her off to Frank and Callie’s to relay the information and wait with Callie and Vanessa. She had not been happy about being ‘dismissed’ but after so many years together she knew this wasn’t the time to argue about it. After eliciting a promise to call the minute he knew anything, she left. And now Fenton could do nothing but wait, something he did not do well when it involved the welfare of his sons.

As he paced, Fenton replayed the plans and veiled threats they’d heard via the bug on Joe. He and Sam had listened first with morbid fascination and then growing horror, as the man who headed up the ring of criminals laid out his final plans. Fenton had panicked when Frank, so totally out of character, apparently overpowered one of the men and threatened to kill him if he wasn’t allowed closer to Joe. He shivered at the recollection, knowing Frank would have made good on the threat if his demand had not been met. It had taken several minutes after that for Fenton and Sam to figure out what was going on and when they had, Fenton thought he might be sick. He could still hear Joe’s voice, hitching and terrified…

“Get it off me! Please, get it off me! I can’t…I can’t…breathe!”

Even now his stomach rebelled a little at the thought. Those animals had placed a bomb on Joe, but not just anywhere. They’d attached it to a strip of leather and put it around his neck, reviving hellish memories Joe had spent over a year trying to forget. And suddenly Fenton’s own private hell came back at him so fast it almost brought him to his knees…

Fenton gently pulled his older son back and reached out, placing a much steadier hand on Joe’s neck. He prayed the tight piece of leather still encircling Joe’s neck was the reason Frank hadn’t been able to find a pulse. Holding his breath, he waited…and waited.

Keith Rashman had tied a strip of leather around Joe’s neck and then doused him with water. Over several hours, the beating sun had caused the leather to shrink as it dried, leaving Joe to wonder if he would slowly choke to death before he was found or Rashman settled on some other way to kill him. When they had finally found him, Fenton thought without a doubt that Joe was dead and for a brief moment, until he realized otherwise, it had felt as if a piece of his soul had been ripped out. The sense of loss had been overwhelming and something he never wanted to experience again.

Fenton had heard Joe recount the ordeal, first when he gave his statement and then again at Rashman’s trial. He couldn’t even imagine what Joe was going through right now. Even with Frank right there he was barely holding on. What would happen once they were separated?

Fenton closed his eyes, sending out a silent plea to his son. ‘Hang on, Joe…just hang on.’

Having reached the end of his property, Fenton turned to resume his journey back across the yard when he saw Sam standing several feet away. “They’re here,” his partner said simply, jerking his head towards the office.

Fenton took a deep breath and nodded, then followed Sam inside. “Ezra. Con,” he greeted as they all shook hands. “Thank you for coming.” He gestured to the conference table where Sam was already seated, listening to the speaker. “Anything new?” Fenton asked him as they all sat down.

“No, nothing,” Sam replied. “Sounds like they’re just killing time until they need to leave.”

Ezra glanced at the speaker and then focused his attention on Fenton. “Okay, you said the boys were kidnapped? And they’re being forced to commit some kind of robbery?” he asked, hands splayed questioningly.

“And there are bombs involved?” Con added a little incredulous.

Fenton let out a breath of frustration, anger resurfacing at hearing his sons’ situation laid out so bluntly. “Yes,” he replied, eyeing Ezra steadily. “And one of those bombs is attached to Joe.”

Collig sat back, momentarily stunned. He exchanged a look with Con, then rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Start at the beginning – and don’t leave anything out.”

For the next several minutes, Fenton recounted everything that had happened since Callie, Vanessa, Phil and Biff had arrived on his doorstep up to Joe’s near meltdown just a short time ago. When he finished Collig shook his head in disbelief, took a moment to digest everything and then became all business. “First we need to get a SWAT team to the location where Frank is supposed to stop the train.”

“Do we know exactly where that is?” Con asked looking at Sam. “Did they say specifically?”

Sam checked the notes he’d made and shook his head. “No, they didn’t give the exact location. He just said on the outskirts of town at eleven eighteen a.m.”

Con thought for a moment and then said, “We can contact the carrier and find out where the train is supposed to be at that time. Considering what the freight is, I’d guess they know exactly where that train will be every single second.”

“Agreed. If we can get SWAT there quickly, they can apprehend—” Collig began but never got a chance to finish.

“No!” Fenton snapped. Listening to the discussion, he’d been slightly taken aback at first but was now just plain angry. “Absolutely not!” Collig and Riley looked at him, surprised. He took a steadying breath and forced his voice to a more normal level before continuing. “If Frank doesn’t stop that train and detonate the first bomb, Joe will die.”

“But—” Collig tried again.

“NO!” Fenton yelled. He slammed a fist down on the table causing the speaker to jump. Collig and Riley flinched back at the outburst from the normally cool detective. He leaned towards the two men, anger burning in his eyes. “You are not putting my sons in any more danger than their already in! These men have to think they’re plan has worked! If SWAT moves in and apprehends them, Joe is as good as dead.”

A tense silence filled the room. Ezra Collig was not used to being challenged, by anybody, nor was Fenton Hardy. For a moment both men stared at each other, neither one blinking. Just when Fenton thought he’d made a grave error in judgment getting the police involved, Ezra sat back. “Okay. So this can’t be the typical SWAT/hostage situation. We need to come up with something that allows Frank to stop the train and detonate the first bomb.” He stopped then and looked at Fenton intently. “And at that point your sons won’t be the only civilians in danger.”

“I understand that,” Fenton said evenly. “But my son is the only one who has a bomb strapped to his neck.”

Collig drummed his fingers on the table and then shifted his gaze to Sam and Con. “Any suggestions?”

Con cleared his throat and looked to Sam for moral support, neither of them too thrilled to be in the middle of a pissing contest. “Maybe the first thing to do is contact the Feds and find out what kind of security they have in place on the train. Considering the cargo, I’d guess it would be pretty heavily guarded. At least then we’d know how much help we’d have on the inside, so to speak.”

Con and Sam looked to Ezra who in turn looked at Fenton. Exhausted beyond words, Fenton simply nodded. Ezra stood up and walked a few feet away, already dialing his cell phone. Tuning him out, Fenton stared at the speaker in the center of the table. No one had spoken for a while now but Fenton focused solely on the hushed noises coming through and his heart tightened. He was certain Joe was outwardly trying to project an air of indifference but his internal emotions seemed to be telling a very different story. With the lack of conversation, the powerful listening device easily picked up Joe’s breathing, faster than normal, and his rapid heartbeat. Joe was in the grip of some very dark memories and Fenton was helpless; unable to do anything but sit and listen to his son attempt to walk a very fine line and hopefully not fall off into the black hole of his own private hell.

“Idiots!” Ezra’s voice, filled with contempt broke the silence. Collig turned and faced Fenton, Sam and Con. “You ready for this?” he asked in angry disbelief. “They didn’t want to call attention to the train so it has no extra security. Just the regular crew and the words Southern Paper Products on the car so it looks like they’re hauling something ridiculously mundane.”

Fenton closed his eyes and leaned forward rubbing his forehead and silently fuming. It felt like rather than making progress they just kept moving backwards. “How the hell can they haul three million dollars with nothing more than a couple of conductors on the train?!” he demanded, his frustration reaching new heights. “That has to be the ultimate in stupidity!”

“Our tax dollars at work,” Sam shrugged. The silence was tense and heavy for several minutes as each of them struggled to come up with a plan, well aware time was running out. Finally, Sam was struck with inspiration. “How about this?” he said, garnering everyone’s attention. “We stop the train in Southport just long enough for Fenton to board it. He’ll be in the cab, posing as one of the conductors. You,” he gestured towards Ezra, “can station a SWAT team nearby. Once Frank detonates the bomb, your men can move in and take the gang into custody.”

“But Joe—” Fenton interrupted, stopping when Sam held up a hand.

“I’m not done yet,” Sam grinned at him and Fenton sat back, feeling slightly chastised by his friend. “While you’re on your way to Southport, I’ll be heading to the location where they’re taking Joe. From what this guy said, there will only be him and one other guy on Joe. I’m sure I can lure one of them away, subdue him and then overpower the other one. Once the bomb on the train has been detonated, Joe will be safe and I can remove the one on him. Then Ezra and his men can do the cleanup.”

Fenton had already decided he liked Sam’s plan with one exception. “Sounds good but I want to make one change.”

Sam, Ezra and Con looked at him expectantly.

“You board the train in Southport,” he addressed Sam, “and I’ll go to the location where they’re taking Joe.”

Sam leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Fenton, I understand why you’d prefer that but it’s best if I’m with Joe,” he said softly.

Fenton could tell Sam was hoping he’d get some underlying meaning but he’d been up for two days with only a few hours of fitful sleep and his nerves were just about shot. “Sam, they put that bomb around his neck with a piece of leather. Just like…Rashman did.” He stopped, almost choking on the name. “Joe’s trying not to let them see it but he’s scared. Come on, you heard him.” Fenton gestured towards the speaker. “He’s barely holding on and once he and Frank are separated it’s only going to get worse.” He stopped and swallowed hard, not used to wearing his emotions so clearly. “He’s my son, Sam. I want to be there….I need to be there for him,” he finished, his voice getting hoarse.

Sam rolled his chair a few inches closer and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I understand that Fenton, believe me I do.” His voice was sincere but tinged with regret. “But I’m the one who’s more experienced in the general workings of a bomb and how to diffuse one if need be. I know you want to be with Joe and given the choice I’m sure he’d rather have you there. But I’m the one who has to be there…just in case…”

Fenton paled. As the meaning behind Sam’s words sank in he heard Joe’s tormented voice echoing in his ears. “It’s…choking me! Get it off – PLEASE!” He swallowed the lump in his throat but still couldn’t speak. Silently nodding his assent, he prayed if it came down to it, Sam could do just that.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.