Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank Hardy drifted from unconsciousness into a foggy stupor, and shifted positions – or tried to. He emitted a muffled groan at the movement. His stomach roiled with nausea. Instinctively, he tried to bring his hands to his stomach, hoping to stifle the impulse to lose everything he’d eaten recently, but his arms refused to cooperate. He struggled weakly in an unsuccessful attempt to loosen his bonds. Nothing gave.

I am in deep trouble, he thought. Where am I? How did I get here? Trying his hardest to remember details, he started with the basics. Who am I? Slowly the information filtered through. I’m Frank Hardy. I live in Bayport, on Elm Street. I have a brother...Joe. Mom and Dad – Laura and Fenton Hardy. And...Megan!

Beyond giving up these sketchy details, the fog in his head was refusing to budge. Frank tried to shake his head, hoping to clear it, but found it felt too heavy to even lift from the floor. Assuming it was a floor, that is. It was much too hard to be a bed, even one with a really firm mattress!

He opened his eyes, but all he saw was darkness, with a faint flickering of light at the edges of his vision. So...he was evidently blindfolded. His mouth felt overstuffed and dry – okay, he was gagged, as well. He could feel something soft and cottony against his tongue; at least the gag wasn’t cruel...but it was effective.

Deep, deep trouble. The thought pounded into his head. Frank, you are in so much trouble, here....but where are you? And why?

His memories were still being buffered and cocooned by the clinging fogginess inside his head; he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around what was going on. Solid facts seemed to have become slippery as quicksilver; they slid away and dissolved just as he thought he had a grasp on them. Desperately, he tried again. Something to fasten on, to give him a place to start. Anything....What had he been doing before he was...here?

Sand...water. Sunshine, too-bright sunshine. Megan...Megan. Me and Megan, on a beach.

Hawaii.

Memory flooded back, giving him the details almost too quickly. He’d come to Hawaii with his family and his girlfriend – his almost-fiancée – and his brother’s girlfriend, Vanessa. They’d come because of his father’s work. It was New Year’s Day. And apparently, he’d gotten kidnapped.

Again.

He shivered, despite the warm air which enveloped him. Although Hawaii wasn’t necessarily scorchingly hot, wherever he was at the moment certainly was!

Kidnapped.

Frank concentrated fiercely, trying to reconstruct the events which had led up to his kidnapping. He had to hope that it hadn’t taken place all that long ago, that he hadn’t lost...days. But all he seemed to dredge up was the visuals of sand and water and bright sunshine which seemed to beat into his head and make it throb. And Megan...Megan was there, but then...then, she was gone, leaving him nothing but sun and sand and the subdued shush of waves on the beach.

Come on, Hardy, you’re better than this! He gritted his teeth – or tried to, despite the gag, and fought for those elusive memories.

Images flitted through his brain. A classroom – no, not quite, but something very like a classroom. A large number of people sitting in chairs and taking notes and listening to a lecture. Had he been kidnapped from school? No, that’s silly, I don’t go to school in Hawaii!

So...he did remember coming here, vaguely recalled an airplane flight with his parents and Joe and Vanessa and Megan, although details were largely absent – and that in itself was unsettling. But he remembered it; it was real. That meant that he’d been kidnapped after he had arrived in Hawaii.

Help! he called mentally, wishing suddenly for some miraculous superpower that would allow him to contact Joe or his father. Help! Come get me out of here! Wherever ‘here’ was....

Again he tried to struggle with his bonds, desisting when his nausea immediately increased. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to throw up with that gag in his mouth; he’d choke to death. But the movement of the floor made it almost inevitable; it was so unsteady and unstable, and it...vibrated.

A second later he realized what it was. He wasn’t on a floor, he was in a vehicle of some kind. A truck, or perhaps a large van. Another vehicle – he’d been in one before; perhaps the same one, and now he was in it again. And it was moving. He was being transported...somewhere.

The utter darkness of unconsciousness claimed him between one thought and the next, and he drifted, unseeing, unthinking...unknowing.

*****

Brushing a hand through his blonde hair, Joe Hardy fell back into the chair, grateful for its placement, for otherwise he most certainly would have fallen to the floor. He glared through the gloom at Quint, staring hard, and as the other man looked back, Joe saw the pain in his somber dark gaze – and he shivered. Quint’s eyes glittered briefly, caught in the moonlight, and then he sat back and shadows obscured his face again.

Joe sat speechless for a moment or two, waiting, he knew, for Quint to leap up and yell “April Fool!” or the Hawaiian equivalent. To laugh and tell him this was nothing but a joke, a practical joke played by Hawaiian locals, on naïve tourists who came to the islands, and wasn’t it funny that Joe had fallen for it? A stupid New Year’s Day prank.

But Quint remained still. He sat there, waiting and watching, his eyes hidden in the dimness. Waiting for Joe to respond.

“Could you...repeat that?” Joe finally rasped. “Just for the...dumb...among us. Because I’m sure I didn’t hear you right.”

Quint sighed. “You’re not dumb, Joe,” he said softly. “And you heard right. They’re going to sacrifice your brother. Sacrifice him to the Goddess Pelè – by throwing him into the volcano.”

If this is a joke, Quint’s carrying it too far! Joe rubbed at his ears and shook his head in disbelief, still unable to comprehend that the other man was deadly serious. “Do people really do that in Hawaii?” he asked blankly, feeling stunned. “Sacrifice other people to...deities?” He’d seen the fire dances and the hulas at the luau; he’d listened to the stories and legends, he’d even participated in a native ritual or two, but...sacrifice? Human sacrifice? The concept was so foreign he couldn’t grasp it. And even if he could understand in theory – connecting the bizarre idea with Frank...no, that didn’t compute, not at all!

“Well...” Quint shrugged, the movement only half-visible in the moonlight’s soft glow. Joe found he could see the young Hawaiian quite clearly now; his eyes had adjusted to the dimness in the cottage. “It’s not so much that Hawaiians believe in sacrifice – human or other – at least, not all of them. Or even believe that sacrifice is an appropriate way to show appreciation to Pelè. It’s not,” he emphasized, “one of the more common practices for worshipping her. Most people assume that if The Goddess wants a sacrifice, she has the ability to find that person and bring him to her on her own. Lady Pelè is nothing if not...assertive,” he added with a small chuckle. “But yes. There are some people – native Hawaiians, pure-blooded Hawaiians – who do believe that the way to restore their land, to bring back the ways of the past, is to try and appease Pelè whether she needs it or not. After all, the fires of the volcano have been burning for many years. Therefore, the Goddess is still angry – or so they believe. It is hoped that this ultimate sacrifice will finally soothe her.”

Joe stared at the weathered floorboards in silence. He wanted desperately to disbelieve him, but the awful reality of Quint’s words was sinking in. He shivered again, feeling as if something cold and slimy was slithering up and down his spine, and he clenched and unclenched his hands several times, trying to calm down. It’s just so weird....Sacrifice. They’re going to sacrifice Frank to a volcano.... He blinked and looked up at Quint as the true meaning struck home. “They going to kill him!”

“Yes.” The single word dropped into the stillness like a stone disappearing beneath the surface of a pond.

“Okay – what do you know?” Suddenly Joe had snapped out of his disbelieving detachment, and he wanted answers. He wanted them now, and he shot questions at Quint like so many bullets. “What else? Where is this going to happen? When? How long do we have to find Frank before this...this execution...takes place? Who’s behind it? And...why are you telling me this?”

Quint answered slowly, taking the questions in order. “I know only what I’ve told you already, Joe. It is going to happen at Kilauea, but the exact location is unknown, except to the Kahuna. It will happen some time in the next two nights. Not tonight, but perhaps as early as tomorrow night. The leader has his own timetable, and he does not share it with mere acolytes.”

“That’s what you are – an acolyte?” Joe spat.

“I was,” Quint answered steadily. “So...you have two days at the most. I don’t know who the Kahuna is. He’s always masked, always in shadows when we meet with him. It is not our place to see the face of the Chosen of Pelè. He’s a large man, though,” Dante added. “That much I can tell you. I wish I knew more. As for why I’m telling you...well, I was asked to befriend you, to act as a spy. I didn’t know why, then. When I found out...I didn’t want anything more to do with it. Because...we were friends, by then.”

Joe nodded shakily. His mind was still spinning. Human sacrifice...Hawaii...Frank...human sacrifice.... And then one thought solidified: If this is true, I’ve got to get back to Dad! Immediately. Searching all of Volcanoes National Park could take days – and they didn’t have days. We’ve got to get started! “Quint, I’ll keep my word – I’ll do my best to keep your name out of it, as long as you don’t do anything else to endanger the case – but I’ve got to get back! I’ve got to tell my father—”

“I know,” Quint said. “And I won’t do anything else to...to cause any harm to Frank. In fact,” he said, rising to his feet with a mirthless little laugh, “I’m leaving the island myself. I’ve got to get away as soon as possible – otherwise I don’t stand a chance in hell, brah! Pelè’s version, or anyone else’s! The Kahuna Nui won’t forgive this kind of transgression.”

Joe stood too, and extended his hand. “Thank you. Thank you for taking this chance,” he whispered. Quint had essentially put his life on the line by doing this. He was risking a great deal in his effort to help, trying to atone for what he had done, and Joe knew it.

He felt a brief, hard pressure on his fingers, and then Quint was gone, slipping into the shadows of the cottage and disappearing. Joe assumed he’d gone out the back, the way he’d come in.

Now I’ve got to do the impossible. I’ve got to convince Dad that this isn’t some sort of hoax, that it’s for real. He won’t want to believe it...human sacrifice.... Joe made his way to the front door and let himself out, closing it carefully behind him, then walked down the beach towards the place he had parted from Vanessa.

His girlfriend was sitting cross-legged on the sand, watching his approach. She stood and smiled hopefully as Joe neared, but when she saw the expression on his face, her smile faded. “Not good?”

“Not good, babe. I’ll tell you what Quint said when we get back to the hotel. It’ll be easier if I...I just can’t go over it more than once, okay?” He took her hand and pulled her close, clinging to her warmth. “And I need some time...time to get my head back together.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” Vanessa held him tightly for a long moment before releasing him. Clasping hands, they moved on, going to locate Megan, who was waiting further down the beach.

The little redhead stood at their approach, and searched Joe’s face anxiously. Whatever she saw there told her the news was not encouraging. “Joe...?”

“I’ll tell you back at the hotel, Red. Come on.” Joe wrapped his free arm about her shoulders and steered her in the appropriate direction. He kept his arm there, trying to comfort her with the embrace. How is Megan going to stand hearing this? Frank’s just asked her to marry him – sort of – they have their whole lives ahead of them. And now.... They walked on, feet scuffling through the soft sand, in despondent silence.

Closer to the hotel, then found Fenton and Laura, waiting to hear the outcome of Joe’s meeting with Quint. Urgent questions spilled from both parents’ lips, but Joe simply stared at them blankly until they stopped speaking.

“Please, let’s go inside before I get into it,” he begged. He hated the tension his words caused; he could see his mother’s shoulders stiffen, and the worried furrow in his father’s brow, but he couldn’t help that now. He’d tell them in the hotel and not before...he had to get inside before he let himself shatter....

They were all silent as they made their way inside. Joe looked at his watch and saw that it was already past midnight. Already tomorrow.... He was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally, and for a moment he had an intense desire to simply go into his hotel room, crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head and sleep – or hide – until all this incredible situation resolved itself and went away. You can’t, Hardy, so suck it up and deal! He could see a clock in his head, ticking inexorably and telling him ‘This is how long Frank has to live.’ He kept putting one foot in front of the other, plodding mechanically along until they reached his parents’ suite.

Laura used her keycard and opened the door, pushing it open and leading the way inside. Joe, still clinging desperately to Vanessa’s hand, waited for Megan and his father to enter, then followed them. He made his way to the loveseat and immediately sagged down on it, pulling Vanessa with him, and laid his head on her shoulder for a brief moment. He was dimly aware of his parents and Megan sitting down as well.

“Let’s hear it, son.” Fenton’s voice was even and soothing, but not to be disregarded. “What did you find out?”

Joe straightened up and drew in a long breath. It was so hard to get started; even though he knew every second was vital, and he needed to tell his father as quickly as possible. He didn’t dare to meet anyone’s eyes; he couldn’t risk breaking down now. “Quint is...was...a member of a cult,” he began. “A cult of native Hawaiian-islanders that worship Pelè, and want to return to the old ways. Like before the white men came to the islands. The members want to...to...” he had to stop and think for a moment, to try and figure out the best way to phrase it. “They want to bring back something called...‘kapu.’”

To Joe’s surprise, Fenton nodded, seeming to recognize the word. “The old taboos,” the detective commented.

“Right...yeah, that’s it,” Joe agreed. “Anyway...they seem to think they need to appease Pelè because the volcano has been erupting for such a long time. They think maybe if they bring back kapu, that would stop the volcanic eruptions. And...and...that means...a sacrifice to her.”

Joe heard a soft gasp from Megan, and he saw her mouth drop open in shock. Smart girl, Red; wish you weren’t quite so quick on the uptake, he thought, knowing her mind had already leaped ahead and figured out what he was about to say. Over her shoulder Joe saw his father’s dark eyes widen with horrified comprehension as Fenton, too, anticipated his next words.

“Quint said...he said...” Joe had to stop and clear his throat, which seemed determined to clog up on him. Laura rose and brought him a glass of water, which he drank gratefully, thankful for the brief reprieve. “The cult is behind Frank’s kidnapping,” he continued at last. “They intend to use him as the ultimate sacrifice to Pelè...they’re going to give him to Kilauea...to the volcano.”

Laura emitted a choked “NO!” and then turned in her husband’s arms, clinging tightly to him as he embraced her, bending his dark head close to her blonde one. Vanessa stared at Joe in stunned silence, almost as if she hadn’t taken in the import of his words – or if they had robbed her of all ability to move or speak.

But it was Megan’s face that Joe saw most clearly, and seeing it robbed the younger Hardy of nearly all his composure. The bleak despair in her long-lashed turquoise eyes – the way those eyes filled with tears, spilling over and down her white face, and the nearly-inaudible whisper: “Oh, Frank...oh, Frank, my darling...please...no...don’t leave me alone....” The way she turned away and curled in on herself, shielding her face with her hands as her body shook with sobs of desolation.

Joe wanted to go to her, try and comfort her, but he was afraid if he moved at all, he would break down totally as well. All he could do was clutch Vanessa’s hands so tightly he wondered later that he hadn’t broken the fragile bones, and ache down to his very soul as he watched Megan’s complete and utter heartbreak.

Unsurprisingly, it was Fenton who pulled himself together first. “Right,” he said at last, his deep voice a hoarse rasp. “Okay. We have to treat this like any other kidnapping where we have a deadline before the victim is killed.” He looked down at his wife, still encircled in his arms, as she made an involuntary sound of protest at his cool detachment. “I have to handle it this way, Laura,” he reminded her. “Otherwise I don’t think I can...otherwise, we have no chance at all.”

“I know,” she whispered, nodding against his shirtfront.

“We have more information than we would for any other kidnapping,” Fenton went on, still in that calm, detached voice, “so that part is good. We can narrow our search down to a specific area – the volcano – rather than having to search the whole island.”

Seeing his father’s analytical approach bolstered Joe; rather than looking at it as cold-blooded indifference to Frank’s plight, it gave him something concrete to tie to, something to concentrate on. Despite the fact that it was Frank who was going to be sacrificed to the fiery Goddess, it was still a case of kidnapping. Perhaps it wasn’t for ransom, but still, there were similarities. Focusing on the familiar routine was, as Fenton had reminded Laura, the best way to handle it. It let them function.

Fenton now reached for the telephone, and retrieved a tiny pad of paper from his shirt pocket. Leafing through it hastily, he dialed a number. “McCullough? This is Hardy,” he snapped a few moments later, when the phone was answered. Joe wondered if the Five-0 agent was even fully awake. “We have a major lead in my son’s kidnapping case. You wouldn’t happen to be interested in coming down here, would you?”

He made two more similar calls – to Chief Pauahi and to Captain Masukoko – before he turned away from the telephone and surveyed the other occupants of the room. Joe and Vanessa were still seated on the loveseat, still holding hands as though they had no intentions of ever letting go. Laura had gone to Megan and drawn her into a comforting embrace, rocking her a little, smoothing her disheveled red-gold hair and murmuring soothingly to her, and Fenton moved to put his arm about his wife as well.

“Megan...” Joe whispered, although not knowing whether or not the girl heard him, “We’ll get him back. We’ll get Frank back for you. I promise.” He was promising himself as much as her, he realized. They would get Frank back. There was simply no other choice!

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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.