Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the Hardy Detective Agency - Presenting "South American Search & Rescue" by CQB

Jason Hladley dressed into his fatigues quickly. He didn’t want to be late for morning roll call. Though he had only been in Mafesto Santiago’s militia for two months, he’d learned quickly to obey the rules and do as you were told. Not following orders meant punishment that was witnessed by all the other soldiers. The punishment was always different, but it was consistently painful and humiliating. Seldom was anyone every punished twice.

Jason felt for the key he had hidden in his pocket. He was nervous about possessing it, but knew it was a risk he needed to take. As soon as he had recognized Fenton Hardy, Jason realized the man had been sent by his father to find him and rescue him. Senator Richard Hladley was a great admirer of the famous Fenton Hardy and his equally recognized sons. Jason had heard his father talk about Mr. Hardy often. They had worked on the NYC police force together before his father went into politics. Senator Hladley kept appraised of Fenton and his son’s accomplishments. It didn’t surprise Jason that Mr. Hardy was here. Obviously, things hadn’t gone as planned or Mr. Hardy wouldn’t be Santiago’s prisoner.

Jason would have to help his rescuers in order to be rescued himself. That’s why he now had the key to Mr. Hardy’s cell in his pocket. When his partner, Diego Martinez accidentally dropped the key in the grass just after locking Mr. Hardy and the other man in the cell, Jason had discreetly pocketed it. Diego would pay dearly for losing the key, but no one would suspect Jason of having it. Now, he just needed to get it to Mr. Hardy without getting caught.

* * *

Sam Radley and Conner Bailey began searching for the old pick up truck through the streets of Di Heer. Conner was driving as Sam stood in the rear of the jeep, looking for any sign of the truck or the Hardy brothers.

Sam wanted to kick himself for not talking to the boys the night before. He knew them well enough to know they would do anything to avoid being sent home by Conner; even something as crazy as infiltrating the enemies camp.

Guilt weighed heavily on Conner’s shoulders as he quickly navigated the narrow roads and alleys of Di Heer. In trying to protect Frank and Joe, he’d forced them into an even more dangerous position. If anything happened to those two boys, Conner knew he’d never be able to forgive himself.

"There!" Conner shouted, pointing toward a beat-up truck at the end of a dirt alley. "There’s the truck!" He drove to the end of the alley and pulled up beside the battered vehicle.

"Frank! Joe!" Sam called out, leaping from the jeep and approaching the truck. He pulled open the door but the truck was empty. "A-a-a-r-r-gh!" Sam growled in frustration, slamming the door shut.

* * *

Joe Hardy stayed in the shadows of the market stalls, playing a thief that didn’t want to be seen. In reality, he needed to be seen, but by the right people. He knew Frank was close by, browsing the assortment of fresh fruit, grains and vegetables. Joe also knew that Santiago had scouts in the market place as well. They were easy to spot, even though they were dressed in the native clothes of the village people. However, the villagers avoided the scattered young men as if they had leprosy. Joe was aware that he had already caught the eye of two of the militia soldiers. They were watching him very carefully.

Frank Hardy walked down through the various venders selecting a few pieces of fruit. He kept his eyes on his younger brother as he moved from merchant to merchant. If he hadn’t seen Joe before hand, he wouldn’t have recognized him. Joe had transformed into a street urchin by leaving his thick, wavy hair tosseled, wearing ratty, torn jeans and a ragged t-shirt and covering himself with a healthy layer of dirt and grim. Only his clean-shaven face gave away the fact that he hadn’t been wandering the streets for very long.

Frank had initially objected to Joe’s plan of becoming a target for Santiago. After not being able to come up with a better idea, Frank had given in, reluctantly. They agreed that Joe looked more ‘vulnerable’ and would make the better target; making Frank the tail. Since Santiago wanted soldiers, runaways and street kids were ready targets.

Now, as he watched the militiamen that were watching Joe, Frank was having second thoughts. Maybe he should grab his brother and just get out of there.

Suddenly it was too late to think any longer. Joe had made his move. He had grabbed a few pieces of fruit from a vender and took off running down a nearby alley. The vender ran after Joe, but didn’t follow him into the alley. Instead, he began yelling for the ‘policico’ or Bolivian police officers. Frank immediately set off to follow Joe, but stopped as he saw two of Santiago’s soldiers headed in the direction Joe had just run. Frank waited until the militiamen were well into the alley before pursuing them.

As he came to the end of the alley, he spotted Joe and the two young soldiers talking. Frank wished he could hear the conversation, but had to assume the men were making Joe an offer to come with them to escape the policico. Soon Joe was climbing into a military style, canvas covered truck. Frank ran toward the pick-up truck that he and Joe had ‘borrowed’ from the mission compound. It was only a block away from the market.

Frank ran for all he was worth. He had to get the pick-up and follow the military truck. Even though Frank knew where the truck was headed, he wanted to keep an eye on exactly where Joe was at all times. He reached the pick-up and started to climb in the cab. As soon as he reached for the steering wheel, a vise-like grip clamped around Frank’s wrist.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.