Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Vanessa blinked, feeling totally confused. Megan’s strangled words had shocked her – how in the world could the other girl think that Frank’s abduction was her fault? She must have missed something along the line....“Okay...tell me again, Megs, please. Why do you think this is your fault?”

Megan gulped, and scrubbed her fists against her eyes, trying to control her sobs. Blushing hotly, she tried to explain. “My birthday...you know? After dinner, we went back to my house, and we were on the couch, and – kissing, and – you know! And Frank – he wanted to....”

“Oh...okay...” Well! That was a surprise! “Go on, honey.”

“But I...s-said...slow down...my mom was j-just down the hall, and...so we...didn’t.” The tears welled afresh. “Even after he gave me...this—” she gestured frantically with her left hand, “...we didn’t. And, then, on New Year’s Eve, we were...I think we would...but his father called on the phone, and interrupted, and—” she began to sob again in earnest. “Now he’s been taken...to b-be a v-virgin sacrifice....When he could’ve...you know, not been! If I’d just...”

“Oh...oh, my.” For a moment Vanessa couldn’t think of anything to say. Fleetingly, she wondered how in the world these people, whoever they were, had known about Frank’s sex life, or...lack of one. It wasn’t exactly something you filled out on those tourist cards the airlines gave you, after all! She marshaled her scattered thoughts with sudden determination. “Megan, that’s something that you and Frank have to decide yourselves...both of you. Not just you giving in because he wants it, or because you think you ought to. You didn’t argue about it, did you?”

“N-no. He just said...I was...s-sensible!” Megan sniffed. She was no longer sobbing, but tears rolled down her cheeks. “And on New Year’s...he...he felt the s-same...said the m-mood was sp-spoiled.”

“Well, there you are. He wasn’t mad, and although he might have been disappointed, it wasn’t so vital that...well, you know. And for heaven’s sake, it isn’t like anyone makes a decision like that based on whether they think they’d be sacrificed! Who would have thought? Anyway, don’t give up hope!” She hugged her friend tightly. “You know – you should know by now – that Frank and Joe always pull through, somehow. And they will again! Joe and Mr. Hardy will find Frank – don’t worry!”

Megan nodded slightly, a tiny smile tilting the corners of her mouth upward. “Yeah...I know. They always...pull through. I try to keep telling myself that. But...it’s hard, Van. It’s so hard!”

The two girls resumed their walk along the beach, but with little success. No one else seemed willing to talk to them, or if they were, were of no help. None of Quint’s friends were around; Komaka and Melanie were gone.

“Might as well find a phone and call Chief Pauahi’s contact guy,” Megan suggested at last, sounding desolate. “We’re not getting anywhere with this.”

Accordingly, they walked away from the water, up into one of the little roadside parks that were prevalent along the Hawaiian coastline, and found a pay phone. Vanessa made the call, and soon was talking with Officer Tambo once again. She filled him in on what little they’d found out.

“Do you think there’s anything else that we can do?” she asked him, at last.

“No, not really,” Tambo told her. “You may as well go on back to your hotel. But thanks for trying. It was a good idea, even if you didn’t get much result.”

“And you haven’t heard anything...?”

“No, nothing. But they’re doing a helicopter fly-over of the park to check for unusual activity, or for any sightings. You girls need to be picked up?”

“We’d appreciate that, yes,” Vanessa said gratefully. Tambo said he’d call a taxi for them, and ended the call.

By the time the taxi arrived to pick them up, the girls were beginning to think it had gone by way of Kona. Megan fidgeted restlessly as she waited. She felt depressed and forlorn; she was sure there must be something she ought to be doing that would help find Frank – if only she knew what it was, or where to go to do it!

Something...anything at all. I’d do anything at all to save Frank....

A bitter voice replied in her mind: You could have. Sternly, she banished it: We weren’t ready.

The taxi finally pulled up, and the girls climbed into the back seat. Vanessa gave the driver the name of their hotel, then both girls slumped wearily against the seat. As the driver began to pull the vehicle out onto the road, however, Megan jerked upright in surprise. Directly in front of them, a very familiar-looking vehicle zoomed past.

“Vanessa!” She grabbed the blonde girl’s arm tightly. “Look! That’s Quint’s car, I’m sure of it!” Hastily, she leaned forward and tapped the taxi driver’s shoulder. “Listen! Don’t go to the hotel! Follow that Hum-V!”

The driver turned around and stared at her. “Are you serious, lady?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” she snapped imperiously. “Now MOVE IT!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shaking his head, he twisted the steering wheel and pulled out onto the highway after the rapidly-disappearing Hummer. “Whatever you say....”

*****

Joe Hardy shifted in his hard little helicopter seat once again. Why couldn’t they take OFF, already? What was taking so damn long, that they couldn’t leave? Surely the chopper was fueled up, and they had permission to go, and surely they must already have a map, and what the hell were those cops doing, anyway, having more coffee and doughnuts? I could have walked to the park faster, at this rate! I could have walked there and rescued Frank and... He fidgeted again. Oh hell, who am I kidding?

“Joe. Joe, settle down.” Fenton placed a firm hand on his younger son’s knee, which was jiggling and bouncing as Joe jittered and squirmed impatiently in his seat. “If you don’t stop it, I’m going to toss you out on the tarmac,” Fenton threatened. He’s going to drive me nuts....He’s come close before, but this time he’s truly going to drive me nuts....

Joe glared at him. “When are we going to go?” he demanded.

Fenton sighed. “We’ll go when we go. And since it’s not our call, and not our helicopter, there’s nothing we can do to speed up the process. So stop whining. And sit still. Please.”

Joe sighed heavily, crossed his arms on his chest, and sullenly stared out the window, but he did stop jittering. His father leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes wearily.

After another span of time which seemed like an eternity to the worried Hardys, the police officers joined them and climbed into the big 6-seat chopper. Chief Pauahi hauled himself into the front passenger seat. With Joe and Fenton already ensconced in the far rear seats, the two middle ones were left for Dylan McCullough and Captain Masukoko. Masukoko was carrying several small-sized pairs of binoculars, and he handed a pair each to Fenton and Joe, keeping one set himself, before buckling himself into his seat.

Joe nodded his thanks, and laid the binoculars in his lap, but couldn’t quite restrain the impatient tapping of his fingers against the armrest. Let’s GO, already! The wiry little police captain turned and surveyed him narrowly, and when Joe’s anxious eyes met his, Masukoko nodded slightly in encouragement. He looked intense – almost excited, as if he was pleased to be actually doing something, that they were finally getting somewhere. Joe decided that, irascible as the man might be, he was beginning to like Captain Masukoko. He managed to pull up a small smile in return.

Dylan, seated next to Masukoko and directly in front of Joe, wore a look of elaborately resigned patience. Joe could practically read his mind: ‘I know we’re wasting our time doing this, but I’m going along with it just to humor you...’ He had an irrational desire to kick McCullough’s seat – and he knew that was totally unfair, because really, Dylan McCullough was an all-right guy and a good cop, and in any other situation, Joe would have delighted to be working with him. Just...not now.

Chief Pauahi was talking, nonstop, into his headset, which apparently was still connecting him with the outside world, rather than the helicopter’s occupants. Joe had no idea what the man was saying; he was speaking in Hawaiian, with an occasional English word thrown into the mix. Whatever he was saying, however, he was saying it emphatically!

The pilot slid into his seat and began his pre-flight checks. Joe put on his headphones to listen in, trying to keep himself occupied and stifle his impatience. At last they were cleared for takeoff, and the big chopper lifted smoothly into the air, tilted slightly as it gained altitude, and swung about.

They were heading southward, following the shoreline. Despite his worry, Joe couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he looked down; the beauty of the scenery was incredible. Sadly, he wished that Vanessa could see it as well. She wanted to, so badly – and Megan. And Frank. He clenched his hands into fists.

Conversation was nearly nonexistent among the passengers. Even Chief Pauahi had stopped talking. Dylan McCullough was looking down at a file folder on his lap, making notes on a sheet of paper.

They flew for approximately half an hour before the pilot swung out over the ocean, turned and came back in, flying directly at the gently-steaming volcano. Now the occupants of the helicopter began to chat. Joe put his borrowed binoculars to his eyes and began scanning the ground below him intently, while still listening closely to the conversation over his headphones..

“How low can we go?” That was Masukoko, leaning forward as he questioned the pilot.

“Limit’s 1500 feet, unless we have permission to go lower,” was the answer.

“You have permission.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well...yeah.”

“How low?” Now Pauahi entered the conversation, sounding impatient.

“Well...500 feet. But absolutely no lower; it’s not safe!”

“Drop to 500 feet and stay at that level unless it’s too dangerous,” Pauahi instructed.

The pilot’s sigh came clearly over the headphones. “But...”

“Do it.”

“Yessir. As you say.” The chopper began to descend, and they could feel the winds buffeting the aircraft increase. Now all the police officers and the Hardys were watching out the helicopter windows.

“Look for large gatherings of people – people that don’t look like tourists; you know what I mean. And any sort of place that might be suitable for a sacrifice.” Pauahi instructed. “Cars parked in an unauthorized area, for instance. Larger vehicles – a gathering of vans or small trucks.”

As the chief had warned, it was somewhat difficult to distinguish groups of tourists from groups of police searchers, but the binoculars made it feasible. The pilot kept up his gentle circling, occasionally flying straight for a few minutes to reduce the chances of queasiness in his passengers.

“How hot is the lava?” Joe asked, staring down at the steaming black landscape with its tiny red flickers of molten lava.

“About 2000 degrees Fahrenheit,” the pilot replied. “But that’s freshly erupted lava; it cools quickly once it’s out in the open air.”

“Cool enough to walk on?” Fenton inquired. He wondered if the searchers would be having to trek over the lava fields in their hunt for his son.

“Well...maybe after about a day. You can get within 30 feet or so of a ‘live’ lava flow,” the pilot answered.

Staring downward, Joe noticed a wide, flat area, glowing red under the afternoon sunlight. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

Captain Masukoko turned to look where the boy indicated. “Lava lake,” he replied.

“Would that be...” Joe hesitated. “Would something like that be....Oh God, could that be a place for...sacrifice?”

“Possibly,” Pauahi answered him. “It’s more readily accessible than some other places—”

Masukoko interrupted with a sudden shout. “Lava tubes!” he cried. “That’s where he could be hidden – in one of the lava tubes!”

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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.