Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank stared out the window of the SUV as it slowly made its way down the access road parallel to the railroad tracks. He was frustrated and angry. Squeezed in between two armed men in the middle seat, he’d had zero chance of even attempting to signal for help on the drive from the house. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, certain they’d be able to find some way out of this mess, but Frank was starting to think the outcome was inevitable. He was close to accepting that he’d have to detonate the bomb and take the money off the train, hoping that he, Joe, Fenton and Sam would be able to prove they’d been forced to do it after the fact. It seemed to be the only way to ensure that Joe made it out of this alive. He only hoped no one else would be injured – or killed – in the process.

Frank had meant it when he told Joe that no stranger’s life would ever be worth more to him than Joe’s was; he was just praying he wouldn’t be forced to choose his brother’s life over an innocent bystander’s. He’d figure out a way to learn how to live with his actions but somewhere deep in his soul he knew Joe wouldn’t. Joe would never be able to accept that yet another life had been sacrificed for his; he’d be changed forever. And while he didn’t want to admit it, Frank wasn’t sure Joe would ever really be able to forgive him for his actions.

‘Talk about a rock and a hard place,’ Frank thought bitterly, furious at the men who’d put him and Joe in this position. ‘Well…as long as the conductors don’t put up any resistance I should be able to pull it off without anyone getting hurt. Just some property damage…’ he mused hopefully then scowled. ‘And the theft of millions of dollars!’ He slumped down in the seat and sighed inwardly. ‘We are so screwed.’

Seconds later the SUV slowed and turned to the left, onto a well-concealed dirt path. It continued on for several yards before making a three-point turn to face out and coming to a stop. Two men in the seat behind Frank got out and went around to the back of the SUV. Frank heard the hatch open and turned to look over his shoulder. “They’re getting your supplies,” the man seated to his right said. “Just go back out the way we came in to get to the tracks,” he continued jerking his head towards the railroad tracks. “Remember, we’ll be watching your every move.” He held up a pair of high-powered binoculars. “And if anything goes wrong – I mean anything – your brother is as good as dead, understand?”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Frank replied, silently seething.

“Good…just so we understand each other,” the man replied, settling back against the seat.

The man on Frank’s left got out and then reached in, helping him scoot across the seat and climb out of the vehicle. He pulled out a knife and easily sliced the ropes still binding Frank’s wrists, then escorted Frank to the back of the SUV. As Frank bent down to pick up the duffel the man put a hand on his arm, stopping him. He held up a cell phone and said, “One mistake…” letting the remainder of the threat hang in the air.

Picking up the bag, Frank slung it over his shoulder. With a final glare at the man he began to hike the short distance back to the railroad tracks.

A few moments later Frank dumped the duffel on the ground and rummaged through it, cursing under his breath. “Of course there aren’t any gloves in here,” he muttered. “They want to make absolutely sure my fingerprints are all over everything.” Annoyed, he pulled out a coil of rope, a small caliber gun, a knife, several bandanas that he assumed he was supposed to use to gag the conductors with and a few other tools and odds and ends. How was he supposed to force the train to stop with these things? Raking a hand through his hair Frank looked around, frustrated. As he shifted his gaze back to the pile before him the sunlight glinted off something else in the bag, catching his eye. Looking closer he saw it was a cigarette lighter.

Pulling it out, he stared at the lighter for a moment, and then looked at the trees around him and back at the tracks, an idea beginning to take shape. ‘Okay…that could work.’ Shoving it into his pocket, Frank walked over to the trees and began gathering up old, dried branches and anything else he could find to use as kindling. Returning to the tracks, he laid the branches and other items across the tracks then pulled the lighter out.

Leaning over he flicked the button with his thumb and a small flame popped up. Shielding it with his hand, Frank moved it methodically over the pile of debris. Hearing a train whistle farther down the tracks he murmured soft words of encouragement, “Come on, come on…catch,” coaxing the flame to life. Once it was fully lit, he fed the fire until he was sure it wouldn’t die out then grabbed the duffel bag and retreated just inside the tree line to wait.

Moments later he saw the train coming around a curve. The conductors noticed the small fire on the tracks almost immediately and Frank heard the squeal of metal on metal as they applied the brakes. Luckily the train was just on the outskirts of Southport and had already begun to slow in anticipation of entering the city limits. Pulling the gun out of the duffel, Frank slung the bag over his shoulder and stood up. Waiting for the train to come to a stop he glanced down at the gun; it felt much heavier than it should in his hand. The weight of what he might have to do settled over him. Could he live with himself if he had to shoot someone – kill someone – in the cab of that train? If it meant saving Joe’s life he’d find a way to, but Joe never would…

Joe still hadn’t come to terms with Iola Morton dying in his place and that had been completely out of their control. This…this Frank did have control over. Slowly he lifted the gun to eye level and then slipped the safety on, praying he wouldn’t regret it.

As soon as the train stopped, Frank took a deep breath and emerged from his hiding place, sprinting towards the cab. Just as he arrived at the open door, one of the conductors was trying to exit. “Back inside,” Frank ordered, leveling the gun at him.

Immediately the man raised his arms and slowly backtracked. Frank grabbed the bar with his free hand and pulled himself into the cab. Two other men were in the cab, one staring at Frank wide-eyed and the other with his back turned.

“You,” Frank demanded, “turn around.”

Slowly the man did as he was ordered and Frank looked into a pair of familiar brown eyes, stunned. ‘DAD?!’

Fenton held Frank’s steady gaze and gave an almost imperceptible nod as he raised his hands above his head. Frank felt his knees buckle and relief flooded through him as it dawned on him that he was no longer alone in this. Now there was hope…

‘Joe’s not out of danger yet,’ Frank quickly reminded himself. Even if Sam or the police had gotten to Joe, he wasn’t safe until Frank detonated the bomb. Nervously, Frank wondered if Fenton knew that, which quickly led to another thought. ‘How does Dad know about any of this?!’ Shaking his head slightly, Frank decided he didn’t really care; he had help now and that was all that mattered.

Taking his cue from Fenton, Frank acted as if his father was just another one of the conductors. “You,” he said, aiming the gun just over Fenton’s shoulder, taking no chances even if the safety was on. “You’re going to tie them up and gag them.” He gestured with his head towards the other two men and then glanced at them briefly. “Get on your knees.”

The two men immediately dropped to their knees. Keeping the gun and his eyes on Fenton, Frank slid the duffel off his shoulder and let it fall to the floor of the cab. Crouching down slightly, he shoved his hand in the bag and pulled out the coil of rope he’d left on the top of the pile and two bandanas. Throwing them at his father’s feet he said, “Go ahead.”

“Just take it easy,” Fenton said, picking up the rope. “None of us wants to get hurt. We’ll do whatever you say.”

“Good,” Frank nodded, watching as Fenton bound the hands and feet of the other two men and then gagged them. “Now you,” he said when Fenton was finished. “Turn around and get on your knees.” Frank quickly tied his father in a similar manner making sure he’d be able to easily escape the bonds.

“Okay, you’re going to hear an explosion in a few minutes. It’ll be small, not enough to cause any damage in here. Just sit tight and you won’t get hurt, understand?” Frank waited until he nods of understanding from all of them, then picked up the bag, turned and jumped out of the cab.

As he ran to the first car his mind was swirling with questions. How had Fenton found out about all this? And did he know all the details? He opened the bag and pulled out the first bomb he’d assembled. It took a minute for him to attach it to the door of the car and then he set the timer. Grabbing the bag once more, he ran to the front of the train and crouched down, taking cover behind the cab. Silently counting down, he covered his ears seconds before the controlled explosion cut through the peaceful summer morning.

Waiting a few seconds, he got up and peeked around the corner of the cab. Smoke was billowing out from the door, carried towards him on the lazy summer breeze and, as luck would have it, temporarily shielding the door of the cab and the first car from view. Coughing, Frank moved forward just as Fenton’s head poked out of the open door.

“Hurry up!” Frank urged him. “The smoke will cover you for a few more seconds!”

Quickly Fenton jumped from the cab and ran to the first car, scrambling up inside. Seconds later, Frank poked his head inside.

“Wow!” Frank couldn’t help but stare, open-mouthed at the neatly stacked piles of moneybags that completely filled the car.

“Come on.”

Frank looked up and saw Fenton extending a hand to pull him up and shook his head. “I have to go get the SUV. I’m supposed to fill it up myself.” He started to turn away but curiosity got the better of him. “Dad…how did you know?”

Fenton started to answer when they heard the beeping of a horn. “Go, before they send someone to find you,” he said, waving Frank away.

Frank ran back up the dirt path. The men had climbed out of the SUV and were standing beside the vehicle. As Frank jogged past them towards the driver’s door the bomb expert grabbed his arm.

“Load it up and drive back here. You’ve got fifteen minutes. And don’t do anything stupid,” he warned.

Frank swallowed hard, suddenly paranoid. Did they suspect something? Did they know? ‘No…they couldn’t possibly…they’d never let me go back.’ Shaking his arm loose, Frank nodded and climbed behind the wheel, quickly driving back to the train.

“Are they all there?” Fenton asked, standing in the shadows just inside the car.

“Yeah,” Frank nodded as he pulled himself up and over the debris from the explosion. “They’re waiting for me back there. I’ve got fifteen minutes to fill the car and get back there.” Knowing he was being watched, he began pulling moneybags close to the open doorway.

“You won’t need fifteen seconds,” Fenton said and even in the dimness of the car Frank saw fury flash in his father’s eyes. Fenton pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number and waited for someone to answer. “They’re all at the end of the dirt path. Move in. Now!”

In less than a minute, Frank and Fenton heard shouting and yelling coming from just inside the tree line. They jumped from the train car as several officers swarmed out of the wooded area with Ezra Collig and Con Riley leading the way.

Frank immediately turned to his father, concerned. “Dad…Joe?”

Fenton smiled and reached out, squeezing Frank’s shoulder. “Sam’s with him. And since you detonated this one, the bomb they put on Joe is useless.”

“Thank God,” Frank exhaled. Knowing his brother was safe, Frank was finally able to relax. He took a moment to watch the SWAT team as they herded the group of would-be criminals out of the woods and into the clearing next to the tracks. As the group of men shuffled past Frank and Fenton, the bomb expert who’d scrutinized Frank’s every move for two days came to a stop in front of them. The man stared at Frank. “You’re a fool,” he said. “We warned you, but you didn’t listen.”

Frank felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a horrible feeling of dread washed over him. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, his throat suddenly dry.

The man smiled as he was led away, tossing two words back over his shoulder: “Secondary timer.”

Before Frank could even process the words, a loud explosion split the air just to their south. Frank and Fenton looked at each other horrified, both thinking the same thing…JOE!

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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.