Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Reacting instinctively, Joe dived to the side, narrowly avoiding being struck by the object, whatever it was. He grabbed Vanessa with one hand and Megan with the other, and brought the three of them down together on the sand, with a solid thump! For the moment ignoring the girls’ exclamations of surprise and outrage at the landing, Joe stared towards where the object had come. To his distinct shock, he glimpsed a familiar face and tall form standing at the top of the path leading into the hotel. As Joe started to scramble to his feet, the person hurled another missile – a round, fist-sized rock – at them through the dusk; Joe ducked back down once more, briefly shielding the girls, and the rock sailed over their heads to land in the sand.

“Stay here, both of you!” Joe commanded, and pushed himself up, already gearing up for pursuit. He tore up the beach towards the path, letting fury add wings to his feet. Whatever Quint’s problem was, he was going to pay for being a jerk, that was certain!

Quint, seeing his victim turned into an angry attacker, backed up a few steps, turned and ran, heading along the path into the hotel’s lanai. Startled hotel guests scattered with small shrieks as he tore past.

Joe pounded up the path and into the hotel, hoping his renowned football-and-track speed hadn’t deserted him – although, he admitted to himself, this was more like broken-field running than a flat-out race, since he had to dodge furniture and a multitude of people, as well as chasing Quint! “Stop him! Stop that guy!” he yelled, as Quint dashed along the lanai, for there were a group of police officers from the conference standing and chatting nearby – but Quint was past them before anyone could react!

Shoot, this guy’s FAST! Joe shook his head in despair; he had a feeling that even if any of the cops had joined the pursuit they’d have a hard time catching the young Hawaiian. Joe doubted his own ability to catch him, either; he was far speeder than Joe had given him any credit for!

Quint headed into a series of passages that led to the numerous small shops which flanked the hotel on either side; Joe kept him in sight only briefly, in the twists and turns and intersecting alleyways. He slowed down to a walk, trying to listen for the thump of running feet – and used the respite to catch his breath! He paced along the storefronts, glancing between each and occasionally looking behind, to see if Quint had managed to give him the slip and get behind him. He’s gotta be here somewhere close; he hasn’t had time to get too far away! Beneath his breath, Joe crooned a challenge: “Oh, Quiiiiiiiint! Come out, come out, wherever you are...!”

The impact of a body against his own sent him sprawling, as the Hawaiian youth launched himself from the last corridor and tackled him. They rolled together, and Joe managed to free himself from the other’s clutches. He sprang to his feet, glaring furiously at his opponent, who returned glare for glare; Quint looked as though he’d like to tear the Hardy boy limb from limb, and immediately went on the attack again!

“What the HECK is your problem, man?” Joe demanded, ducking Quint’s swinging fist. “Have you lost your mind? Why’d you throw the rocks at us?”

“No, I haven’t lost my mind!” Quint snarled. “I know what you do here, haole, and I’m going to stop you!” He lunged forward, and Joe moved back, avoiding the blow.

“What I’m doing here? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Joe spat furiously. “The only thing I’m trying to do is find my brother – and that’s ALL I’m trying to do!”

Quint threw another punch; it landed on Joe’s shoulder, and he grunted in pain before returning the blow – this one a solid hit to Quint’s stomach. As Quint groaned and doubled over, Joe added a second blow to his midsection, putting all his weight behind it. Quint sank to the pavement, holding his stomach, and lay there, glaring up at Joe.

Warily, Joe kept his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and waited for the other man’s next move. “What is it you think I’m up to?” he demanded. “HUH? Just what is it I’m supposedly doing that’s such a threat to you?”

“Haole bastard! I know you’re trying to frame me for those car thefts!” the young Hawaiian snarled belligerently, “Or something worse! And I didn’t have anything to do with them!”

Joe stared down at his adversary, some of the fury in his eyes being replaced by bewilderment. “You’re full of it, Quint!” he growled at last. “I haven’t framed anybody for anything! The only thing I’m interested in,” he went on, his voice rising again in anger and frustration, “is finding my brother! And I will find him – one way or another!”

Quint gazed up at him for a long moment. “Your brother,” he repeated softly, and seemed to come to some sort of decision. The hostility in his dark eyes faded a little, and he gingerly propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Listen, we gotta talk.”

“About what?” Curious about Quint’s change in attitude, Joe bent closer.

“Not here,” the other boy hissed, his eyes flicking furtively from side to side. “It’s gotta be private. You gotta know something, brah, but I can’t talk here...there’re eyes everywhere, you dig? Gotta be careful.”

“Why should I listen to anything you say?” Joe asked in disgust. “You just tried to kill me with that rock – would’ve, too, if I hadn’t ducked fast enough!”

“I had to make it look good, didn’t I?” Quint parried. “Supposed to keep people off-balance. It worked, didn’t it?” He rubbed his midsection. “Too well,” he added ruefully.

Joe grinned maliciously at that comment. “It worked all right,” he conceded, “but I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you – and give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to the police for assault?”

Quint scowled darkly. “If that’s how you feel, go right ahead,” he spat out. “I won’t say a thing – and your kaikuaàna – your precious brother – can roast in hell, for all I care!”

“What do you know about Frank?” Joe seized the other man’s shirt collar in both fists, and dragged him up a few inches. “Talk, Quint, and I mean right now!”

“No.” The Hawaiian youth’s mouth set grimly. “Not here. Either let me go and I’ll meet you later, or I’m saying nothing – and you’ll never find him.”

Furious but stymied, Joe sighed and slowly let Quint back down. He hated to do this; it was against his better judgment and all his instincts – which were screaming for him to rip the Hawaiian into shreds, forcing him to give in and tell whatever it was he knew – but Quint had the upper hand now, and they both knew it. Besides...what’s that old saying Aunt Gertrude comes up with sometimes? You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Quint’s no fly; he’s a cockroach, but....

“Okay,” he muttered, and sat back, releasing his tight grip.

Quint scrambled to his feet, moving without his usual fluid grace and keeping one hand pressed against his sore stomach. “There’s an old cottage down the beach,” he whispered, so softly that Joe could barely discern the words. “Go that way.” The Hawaiian tilted his head slightly, indicating the direction. “You’ll find it. About a mile down; section of beach where not many go – no malihini, anyway. There’s a locked gate – code is 8714. I’ll meet you there tonight. Ten o’clock. Come alone – if I see cops, I’m gone, got it?”

Joe scowled, not liking this in the least. But he had little choice. “I’ll be there,” he agreed, then cocked his head as a sudden thought occurred to him. “You’re talking different now,” he observed.

Quint snorted. “We do learn standard English in school, you dumb keiki! But no one uses it on the beach. You think I’m just some half-wit native—”

“NO!” Joe interrupted him. “You know I didn’t think that. I do think you’re a real jerk, though, standard English or not.” He gave the tall Hawaiian a fierce look. “Whatever this is, it had better be good, otherwise I’m going straight to the police when we’re done.”

“Oh, it is, brah,” Quint assured him, grinning tightly. “It is.”

They moved together to the next intersecting alley. Quint slipped into it without another word, and disappeared into the shadows.

Joe walked back to the hotel, stopping only to inform the police officers that he had settled things with Quint. “I thought he might know something about Frank – but I guess I was wrong,” he dissembled, and went back to the beach, where he found Megan and Vanessa awaiting his return.

“What happened?” Megan demanded as soon as he appeared. She gripped his arm tightly, her nails digging into the skin in her agitation. “Did you catch Quint?”

“Shhh, Red.” Joe removed her hand from his arm with a wince, and enclosed it in his own. He put his other arm around Vanessa. “Let’s walk a little bit,” he proposed.

The girls obeyed, falling into step with Joe, one on either side. As they strolled down the beach, Joe told them in whispers what had occurred and what Quint had said – or implied.

“I don’t like it,” Vanessa said bluntly, when Joe finished. “I don’t trust that guy; he’s devious and slippery!”

“Meeting him alone is too dangerous,” Megan concurred. “He’s not to be trusted – at all, Joe!”

“Maybe so,” Joe shrugged, “but if there’s a chance he knows anything at all about where Frank is, and how to find him, I’ve got to do it; you know that, Red. If I didn’t – I’d never forgive myself.”

“Frank wouldn’t want you to get hurt, or take chances with your own life,” Megan argued – although her voice quavered when she spoke Frank’s name, and she clung to Joe’s hand like a lifeline.

“Maybe not, but he’s not here to tell me that – so I have to do what I think best.” He briefly removed his arm about Vanessa to ruffle Megan’s auburn curls. “I’ll be okay, Red – trust me!”

Vanessa doubled up a fist and punched her boyfriend on the arm. “You’d better be, or I’ll kill you myself!” she threatened.

Joe just laughed and kissed her.

Since they were on the beach anyway, the three continued their plan of asking passers-by if anyone had seen Frank, the gray van, or anyone accompanying Kachina Malari, the maid from the hotel, but there were none who even remembered seeing Frank and Megan on the beach, much less anyone taking him away. The people on the beach now weren’t the ones who had been there in the afternoon, for the most part. At last, admitting defeat, they returned to the hotel, and found Fenton and Laura on the mezzanine.

The elder Hardys were observing the 5-0 investigators as they went about their business with accustomed efficiency – taking photos, marking and measuring, dusting for fingerprints, noting the blood-spatter patterns in the bathroom...all the sad procedures which marked Ms. Malari’s demise. Laura had an arm about her husband’s waist, and her blonde head rested against his shoulder as they watched.

“Find out anything?” Fenton asked, as Joe, Vanessa and Megan approached.

“Maybe,” Joe said. “Let’s go upstairs where we can talk, okay?”

Once the five were settled in Fenton and Laura’s suite, Joe explained what had gone down with Quint.

“He insists that he’ll talk to me only, and if I bring along any law enforcement, the deal’s off,” Joe concluded. “So it looks like I’ve got a ten o’clock appointment tonight.”

Both his parents were frowning; it was obvious that neither Laura nor Fenton was happy about the situation. One son missing, the other forced to agree to clandestine meetings with questionable characters...no, they weren’t pleased.

“I don’t like it,” Fenton sighed heavily, “but I don’t see that we have a whole lot of choice. The trail’s gone completely cold, and we can’t afford to ignore this. BUT,” he continued, with a stern look at his younger son, “I’m going to figure out some way to be in the vicinity; you’re not going into that situation without some backup, Joe!”

“I’m not arguing the need, Dad, but Quint said that the place is secluded. There may not be anywhere for you to hide, and he’ll run if he sees anyone else. Look, I can do this – and I can get in and out in one piece.” Joe fixed his father with a pleading look. “We don’t have any other leads to Frank, Dad. No idea who took him or why, or where they might have taken him.”

Joe paused, frowning thoughtfully, then looked up at his father. “I just thought of something,” he said quietly. “When Frank and I were down on the docks, Frank saw some crates that were labeled pineapple, but actually contained some sort of artifacts. They were in one of the warehouses there by the harbor. What if someone saw Frank looking in the crates – someone with something at stake.”

“Well...” Fenton considered that little item for a few moments. “I suppose that if someone’s smuggling, and saw Frank, it’s possible that they would kidnap him to keep him quiet about what he saw.”

“But even if he was seen, he wasn’t kidnapped that same day,” Joe, despite having brought up the topic in the first place, was playing Devil’s Advocate. “And anyone with a lick of sense would know he’d tell me—”

“You weren’t with him then,” Fenton reminded him, and Joe subsided.

“Maybe that’s why Quint asked Joe to meet him,” Vanessa speculated. “They could be planning to kidnap Joe, too!”

“Nah.” Joe shook his blonde head. “Quint’s not stupid; he’d know I’d tell people where I was going. He didn’t say not to tell; he just said not to bring anyone else along.”

“Bring,” Fenton emphasized. “You’re not going to bring anyone else along. But of course you can’t stop someone you told about it from following you. Without your knowledge,” he added, his dark eyes twinkling.

Joe gave him a conspiratorial look. “I’m going alone,” he repeated clearly. “It’s a lead to Frank and I’m not going to ignore it.” He might have been speaking for the benefit of hidden microphones or cameras, although they were fairly certain that none existed in the hotel room. “And I promise to be careful, Dad,” he finished, speaking very seriously.

“Do you suppose Quint would object if I came along?” Vanessa ventured. “I’m not a cop – and I’m not very threatening.” She coughed a little, delicately. “I’m recovering from a cold; how dangerous could I be, after all?”

“You could breathe on people,” Megan offered, her blue-green eyes full of suppressed laughter.

Vanessa coughed again, ostentatiously. “I’m no danger to anyone,” she repeated. “I’m just a helpless little wahine, after all. Quint shouldn’t have a problem with me being there, and that way Joe won’t be completely alone. I can wait a ways down the beach, even – be ready to go for help if necessary.”

Joe snorted derisively. “Helpless little wahine, huh?” he gibed. Vanessa swatted him.

Fenton was nodding in agreement. “It’s a workable idea,” he conceded. “Especially if I’m waiting even further down the beach.”

“WE are waiting further down the beach,” Laura put in firmly, reaching for her husband’s hand.

“You two and I will be waiting further down the beach, you mean.” Megan’s voice rang out sharply in the quiet hotel room.

Fenton nodded at her – and smiled approvingly.

*****

At nine-thirty that night, Joe donned jeans, a t-shirt and rubber flip-flops, and headed for the beach, where he was shortly joined by Vanessa. They walked with what they hoped appeared to be calm confidence in the direction Quint had indicated. Once they left the immediate vicinity of the hotel, there were no lights along the shoreline, and were left with only the bright tropical stars and a half-phase moon to light their way. Joe took out his tiny halogen pocket flash and switched it on, appreciating the circle of bluish light it cast. They strolled on, knowing that Laura, Megan and Fenton were not that far behind them.

After trudging along the hard-packed sand at the edge of the water for approximately twenty minutes, Vanessa broke away and took up a seated position on the sand. Joe began to look for the cottage Quint had described. It wasn’t that hard to find; it was nestled among a grove of the almond and mango trees which grew profusely along the shorelines. Joe used the flashlight sparingly, just enough to locate the gate with its lockbox and punch in the code Quint had given him. The lock clicked open; Joe went through the gate and ascended the short flight of steps to the front door of the beach-front cabin.

With his heart beating hard in his chest, Joe turned on his flashlight and entered the building.

It was, as it had been described, just a cabin. One story high, perhaps 500 square feet total. Windows on three sides of the main room, but most of them were covered with rolled bamboo shades. As far as Joe could tell, it was decorated in homey comfort, with two upholstered loveseat sofas, flanked by small tables, and a larger one in between, and some built-in bookshelves on one wall. A door in the one wall without windows led, Joe suspected, to a kitchen area, and probably the bathroom, but he didn’t move to investigate. He switched off the little light.

“Quint?”

There was a rustling sound in the dimness, but no other answer. Joe waited a beat, then tried again:

“Quint? You here?”

“I’m here,” the Hawaiian youth replied at last. He moved out of the shadowed back doorway, into a bar of moonlight which came in through one of the partially-shaded windows. “Wanted to make sure you were alone. Can’t be too careful.” He took another step or two and gestured towards the sofas. “Have a seat.”

Joe bit down on his impulse to shake answers out of the tall boy. I’ve got to let him take the lead here; otherwise we might never find Frank! He seated himself on the nearest loveseat, and watched as Quint mirrored his action on the other. “So – talk,” he invited.

“This will take awhile,” Quint said. “So you’re gonna have to be patient, brah. Got it? I gotta explain a lot of things, so you understand.”

Joe nodded, stifling his impatience as best he could. “Okay.”

“Hawaii is a land of myth and legend,” Quint began, sounding almost dreamy, “and I’ve always been attracted to those legends. The stories of Kamehameha – the tales of our Lady Goddess Pelè, in the before-time, when the kapu was in effect – and the traditions of our people – the hula, the fire-dances, the luaus. People think they are just for entertainment now, but they are all rooted in traditional ceremonies. I think since I was very young I dreamed of being a member of the aliì, the royalty, the chiefs of Hawaii – perhaps of being a kahuna, a high priest.”

Joe shifted a little, wishing he dared interrupt and demand that Quint cut to the chase.

“I admit that I actively sought out those who believed as I did,” Quint went on, “that Hawaii was ruined when the others came from the mainland, with their missionaries and their customs, and their own rules – and the kapu was ended. I always dreamt of that time before....”

Quint paused, and Joe heard him swallow nervously in the darkness.

“There is a prophecy,” the Hawaiian youth said at last. “I have heard it many times – it’s in Hawaiian, of course – give me a minute to translate.”

The silence stretched into several minutes, and Joe grew more and more impatient. What did Quint’s dreams of Hawaii-for-Hawaiians and old prophecies have to do with Frank?

And then the young Hawaiian began to speak. His voice rose and fell in a hypnotic chant:

“The islands will be desecrated

And Pelè will show her discontent.

The one will come,

Child of the kings of old,

Pure of blood.

He shall be a leader

And bestow unto Pelè her beloved.

Hair as the crow’s, dark of eye is the beloved.

He shall know no woman’s touch.

From outside shall he enter,

To the fire shall he be given.

To Pelè shall he fly,

And be blessed and blessed of men,

The Islands shall be purified

And the flame will burn no more.”

Quint’s voice died away, and in the soft moonlight Joe could see he had opened his eyes.

“What does that mean?” Joe asked harshly.

“It means this, Joe Hardy – there is a faction in the Islands which is against the ‘taint of the haole, the malihini’ – the outsiders. People such as yourself. They’ve – we’ve – got a leader who claims to be descended from Kamehameha the Great, and he has chosen Frank to be the sacrifice to Lady Pelè – as her beloved. He intends, Joe, to give your brother to the volcano!”

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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.