Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

The taxi containing Fenton and Laura Hardy pulled over to the curb at Miami International Airport. What had begun as a carefree vacation had turned into a grim adventure. Neither spoke much during the trip to the airport. All of their thoughts were concentrated on their son Joe.

Fenton and Laura collected their bags and waited patiently in the line for Trans American Airlines. Both could notice murmurs of disapproval and the shaking of heads of people ahead of them. Occasionally they could hear someone exclaim angrily. They finally reached the head of the line at the ticket counter.

"My name is Fenton Hardy. I called ahead to change our flight back to New York this evening."

"I’m very sorry, Mr. Hardy, but all Trans American flights have been cancelled," the harried employee at the desk responded.

"All flights? Why, for goodness sake?"

"Our pilots have gone on strike. We don’t know at the present when we will resume service."

"Is there any way we can get back to New York. We have a family emergency!"

"We can try to get you a flight with another airline," the man said, pulling up other airline’s flights. "But our computer shows all their bookings are filled for flights from Miami to New York for the next two days."

"Two days!" Mr. Hardy exclaimed. "But I have to get back to New York immediately. It’s a matter of life or death!"

"I’m very sorry, sir. I wish there were something I could do."

Mr. Hardy exhaled audibly. "We’ve got to come up with something better than that!"

Just as Frank Hardy began to open the door to his father’s car, a horn blared loudly at him. He turned to see the faces of three of his best friends, Chet Morton, a rotund, blond boy of about seventeen with brown eyes, Tony Prito, a sixteen year old of Italian descent with striking dark eyes and hair, and Phil Cohen, Frank’s age and a bookish individual with sandy hair and glasses. They grinned happily at him as Chet pulled his car to a halt right behind Frank’s. The boys scrambled out of Chet’s car.

"Hey, Frank!" Chet shouted. "We’re on our way to your place! We thought we’d pick Biff up first! What’s up?"

"Something terrible has happened, guys," Frank replied grimly. He then related the story of how Greg Lewis had assaulted Biff and kidnapped Joe.

"Oh, man, that’s awful," Tony responded sympathetically, giving Frank’s shoulder a squeeze.

"What can we do?" Phil asked.

"I’m going to the hospital to check on Biff and ask him if there’s anything else he can tell me about Lewis." Frank paused, visibly shaken. "This guy is brutal. I’ve got to do anything I can to find Joe--before it’s too late."

"We’ll go with you, Frank," Chet responded immediately.

"Why don’t you let me drive your dad’s car, Frank?" Phil asked solicitously. "It will give you a chance to collect yourself."

Frank nodded and slipped into the passenger seat of his father’s car, while Chet and Tony got back into Chet’s car for the trip to the hospital.

As the two cars pulled away from the Speedmart, a police car sped past them, lights flashing and siren blaring. Chet turned to Tony and said grimly, "A busy day in Bayport."

"We’ve had all too many of those," Tony answered. "I just hope there’s some way we can help Frank. If anything has happened to Joe. . ." Tony’s voice trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.

A few minutes later, both cars arrived at Bayport Hospital. The four friends entered the building and approached the information desk. "Could you please tell us where Allen Hooper is?" Phil inquired.

The receptionist checked her computer. "Room 119."

The boys walked down a long corridor before arriving at Biff’s room. Mr. and Mrs. Hooper were seated there, but Biff’s bed was empty.

"Oh, boys, it’s so good of you to come!" a visibly shaken Mrs. Hooper cried as Frank and his friends entered the room. Each of them in turn hugged Mrs. Hooper and shook Mr. Hooper’s hand.

"Where’s Biff?" Tony asked.

"They’re running some tests on him now," Mr. Hooper replied. "What in the world happened?"

"A man named Greg Lewis clouted Biff and abducted Joe," Frank replied. "We came by to see how Biff was doing and to find out if he noticed anything the security camera might have missed."

"Joe’s life could depend on it," Chet added.

"Joe’s life?" a strong voice called from the doorway. "What about Joe’s life?"

Everyone turned to find a nurse wheeling Biff into the room in a wheelchair. "Biff!" several voices chorused.

"Honey, how are you? We were worried sick!" Mrs. Hooper bent down to kiss her son.

"Mom, I’m fine. Now what about Joe? What happened?" Biff demanded.

"Biff, the man who tied you up and hit you was Greg Lewis, a prison escapee. He grabbed Joe and took him with him. He called me and said he’s going to kill Joe in sixteen days," Frank informed him.

Biff visibly paled. "Oh, man, that’s awful! I thought he just wanted to rob the place! They always tell us not to resist if anyone points a gun at us. He ordered me to tell Joe to come into the back of the store. I thought he’d just tie Joe up, too, and leave. If I had known this would happen. . ." Biff’s voice trailed off.

"There was nothing else you could do, bud," Frank assured his friend, patting his shoulder. "Was there anything the security camera might have missed?"

Biff frowned and collected his thoughts. "I can’t think of anything, Frank. That guy knocked me out right after Joe tried to make a break for it. Everything happened so quickly!"

"When are they going to let you out of here, Biff?" Tony inquired.

"They want to keep me here overnight. I should be home tomorrow morning."

Frank sighed and said, "I’d better head home in case Lewis decides to call again."

"I’ll keep in touch, Frank. If you need me, I’ll be there," Biff asserted.

"We’ll head out with Frank," Chet added. "You get some rest, big guy."

As the boys started to leave, Biff grabbed Phil’s arm. "Watch out for Frank, okay?" he whispered. "I’ve got the feeling this is going to be rough on him, too."

"We’ll take care of him, Biff. We always do. See you soon."

"What about Jack Wayne?" Laura asked her husband. "He could fly down from Bayport and pick us up," she suggested.

"No good," Fenton responded. "He had a flight to Columbia this week with another client." He shook his head in frustration. "Laura, there’s only one thing we can do. We have to rent a car and drive home. We can’t let Frank face this crisis alone."

"I’ll help with the driving," Laura told him. "You’ll need your rest on the trip, too. How long will it take us to get home?"

"It could be twenty, twenty-one hours. Do you think you’re up to non-stop driving?" Fenton asked.

"I’ll do whatever it takes to get our son home safely," she vowed. "But we had better call Frank and let him know about the delay."

Fenton reached out and hugged his wife. "Let’s go get that car!"

Joe Hardy slumped in his chair. He had given up the struggle to free himself from the duct tape which bound his wrists and ankles. "I’ve got to conserve my strength," he thought. "There’s no telling whether he’s going to feed me."

Suddenly he heard a high pitched voice in the distance. "Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in there?"

Tape still sealed Joe’s mouth, and his calls for help were muffled. The voice grew closer and closer. "Is somebody there?"

Joe put all his effort into another call for help, but all that came out was, "Mmpfh!"

Joe heard a rustling noise behind him. Footsteps approached him. A hand touched him on the shoulder. A voice whispered in his ear, "Boo!"

Raucous laughter again filled the air as Joe slumped forward in despair. Lewis had returned.

He knelt down on the floor in front of Joe. "You’re glad to see me, boy? I’m glad to see you, too! I had me a nice trip to Bayport. That’s a cool van you’ve got, but I decided I’d better let your big brother have it back. I left him a couple of presents, too. Hope he enjoys them. I got another car from some old geezer in your neighborhood. He was reluctant to part with it, but this managed to persuade him." With those words, Lewis took his gun and lightly pressed it against Joe’s chin, then slowly traced a line down Joe’s neck, chest, and stomach, down to his navel. He prodded Joe’s belly and continued, "I’m very persuasive sometimes. You know, Blondie, you look like you could use another cigarette!" He then repeated the routine of forcing Joe to smoke a cigarette through the hole in the tape sealing his mouth. The helpless youth again wheezed and gasped for air.

When the cigarette had burned down about three-quarters, Lewis removed it from Joe’s mouth and said, "You know, Joe, cigarettes can be a man’s best friend." He got up and walked behind Joe. "Or they can be a man’s worst enemy." He then touched Joe’s left pinky with the lit cigarette. Joe jolted in the chair he was bound to and screamed in pain through his gag.

Lewis walked back in front of Joe. "That’s enough fun for now. More fun later."

Frank and Phil returned to the Hardy home in Mr. Hardy’s car, while Chet and Tony followed. Frank’s eyes widened in surprise as they pulled up to the house on the corner of High and Elm. "Look!" he shouted. "It’s our van!"

The boys piled out of their cars and examined the van parked in the driveway. "Looks none the worse for wear," Chet observed.

"Do you think it could be booby trapped, Frank?" Phil inquired.

"Only one way to find out!" Frank asserted. He climbed under the van and looked for a bomb or any other sign of sabotage. Seeing none, he crawled back out..

"I’m going inside to call the police and let them know the van is back," Frank said. "I’m not going to open it just yet. They may want to dust it for fingerprints."

Chet was the first to notice the backpack on the front porch. "Say, Frank, isn’t this yours?" he asked, bending over to pick it up.