Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Fenton drove on and on, his hands clenched tight about the steering wheel. He was glad he had something to concentrate on, even if that something was simply driving forward on a straight road. He saw without really seeing the woods in the distance.

He had not been thinking for almost two hours now. He was in shock.

Fenton was still trying to digest what he heard over the radio, on the morning news. The announcement of the explosion at the New York City FBI headquarters had shocked everyone. But it had shaken him more than the others. The explosion and fires, according to the reporter, started in a room located on the fourth floor of the FBI building.

‘Oh my God, Sam…’ That was his first thought.

He ignored all the sympathetic glances sent his way. He did not want them. He did not need them. Not now… He remembered scrambling to raise the volume of the radio, desperate for details. But there was no other useful information from that broadcast. The FBI, as expected, had refused to comment until they had a ‘fuller picture’ of what was happening.

He had left his partner behind; that was all Fenton could think about. That he, Fenton, had knowingly and voluntarily left his partner behind. He had left Sam behind knowing that the man was unconscious and vulnerable.

Oh God, how was he going to explain to Sam’s wife? Edna…Edna, Laura’s best friend….How was he going to face Edna?

Fenton had slammed his foot on the brake the moment he registered the details of the explosion. He wanted to turn back. May his sons forgive him, but for a moment, he wanted to turn back. He wanted to turn back even though he knew…

“What are you doing?!” He remembered Gaby yelling at him when he abruptly stopped the car.

Then there was Madeline. He remembered her talking to him in soothing tones “Fenton, the explosion was almost two hours ago. There is nothing you can do for Sam even if you turn back now. And we have to be there by noon. We all have to be there by noon…”

Fenton knew they did not have the time. Still he hesitated. His sons…Sam…Laura….And that was when he knew with absolute certainty he would always choose his family over all else, no matter the cost.

“Think of your kids, Fenton,” he heard Gaby said to him, his tone pleading. “And mine, all our kids…”

We’re all so alike, Fenton thought. Forgive me Sam. But there was one more thing he could do to check. He picked up his cell phone and was about to turn it on when another hand stopped him. He looked up. It was Mathew.

“We are to go alone, Fenton. Alone…” Mathew reminded him, his eyes pleading and sympathetic. “If you turn on that phone, and make that call, they can track us.”

“You know the FBI can track us. I don’t trust them, Fenton. None of us here trust them.” Madeline pointed out the obvious to him. Then she hesitated before continuing. “And as long as you don’t know, you can hope…”

False hope, Fenton thought bitterly, but he acknowledged Madeline’s appeal and gave a curt nod.

He continued his drive forward, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. He could hear the other three discussing theories regarding the two pieces of map that Gray had handed to him. He could tell from their tone that they were stumped, but he could not dredge up the will to join in the conversation at the moment.

He focused on his driving.

He could hear them wondering if the four detectives in the other car had any more successes than they, going through the old notes the eight of them had compiled over the last two days.

Was Frank gone six days already? Fenton mused sadly. Yes, he was and his younger son, Joe, had been missing a fortnight now. And then Laura was taken last night. Finally this morning…Sam…

His eyes misted and for a moment the road before him blurred. He blinked his tears away and tightened his grip on the steering wheel even more. Until his knuckles stood out white and stark against the dark gray of the steering wheel.

He drove on.

No! He was not alone yet. His family was still alive, he knew. He had a terrible feeling that this time he would arrive just in time to…he forcefully shuttered that thought away. His expression turned grim and determined. The last time, he and the others arrived perhaps a little too early and interrupted something. This time, he would make sure they arrived even earlier.

He sped up the car just a little.

They would have to. There was just too much at stake not to! His sons and his wife depended on him. He would not let his family down. He could not let them down! He growled, and blithely ignored the worried glances of the other three passengers in the car.

Then he remembered. How could he forget, he cursed! He’d forgotten all about Con’s notes! He had not had the chance to study them in detail yet, but perhaps…

“Maddy?” He called out.

“Yes?” she responded, curiosity clear in her voice and on her face.

“There’s a little notebook in my left jacket pocket, can you take it out?” Fenton told her, and then added gruffly: “It’s Officer Con Riley’s notes and thoughts on the case…maybe you can see something that I missed.”

oooooo

Two hours later, the two cars pulled to a stop at a crossroad in the midst of an aged forest. Fenton roused himself from his guilt trip. He had to literally force his fingers to release the steering wheel one by one. So tightly had he been holding on to it, his knuckles were bloodless.

They had arrived at their destination, marked by a red ‘X’ on the map provided with the car, Fenton thought a little listlessly to himself, as he followed the other seven in stepping out of their parked cars and onto the road.

It was noon, but it was warm and dark where they stood. The tall majesty of the age old pines had all but blocked out the light of the midday sun. The needle-like leaves rustled on the trees towering over them. A warm breeze swirled and twirled about them. No, it was warm, the air caressing them, welcoming them, Fenton mused as he stood with the others in the middle of a crossroad in the middle of nowhere.

They were alone.

The road ahead stretched straight until it disappeared into the far horizon. They looked back at the road from whence they came. The road stretched endlessly backwards until it too disappeared into the horizon. The same applied to the road to their right and their left. There was not a soul in sight. There was nothing there. Nothing that would tell them what they were supposed to do next or where to go next.

They exchanged mystified glances, then helpless shrugs.

Were they too late? Fenton wondered as a sliver of fear again coursed through him. It was the familiar old deep-seated fear for the safety of his sons and his wife. How strange it only took a few days for that feeling to become his intimate friend, always hovering about at the back of his mind.

Then he heard it. They all heard it. So soft at first they almost missed it.

Someone was humming that darned tune.

It was a girlish voice and it came from the forest before them, Fenton realized.

Then he saw her. They saw her. How could they miss? A little girl wearing a red cape with a red hood was happily skipping and humming as she glided out from the depths of the tall, thick forest. The little girl came to a stop at the edge of the forest, facing them.

A sidelong glance told Fenton the other detectives were as flabbergasted as he. For some strange reason, they all just stood there and watched the girl as she weaved her way towards them. Fenton managed to question why that was so. But strangely, his curiosity was not strong enough to compel him to move. So he stood with the others and watched.

She looked so small and so innocent.

What was this little girl doing here in the middle of nowhere? Fenton wondered. Then he had to fight a crazy urge to laugh. It was Little Red Riding Hood on her way to visit her grandma, he joked to himself.

Then Little Red Riding Hood lifted her head just a little and he could see the lower half of her pale face. Slowly, her scarlet lips curved into a smile. Fenton blinked. He felt suddenly warm and cold. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his brow. His back broke out into cold sweat. That was not a girlish smile but one full of dark promises that no sane man would want to contemplate even in the light of day.

His breathing deepened.

Fenton could hear the heavy breathings about him and knew the other men felt what he did. There was one indignant indrawn breath. That must be Madeline, Fenton decided. He had to rein in another crazy desire to laugh.

Then he stilled.

Little Red Riding Hood moved.

He watched in morbid fascination.

Slowly, so slowly, she lifted her left arm and silently pointed down the east road, her red cape fluttering softly around her.

Suddenly Little Red Riding Hood turned and ran back into the woods. It was that sudden movement which galvanized Fenton into action.

“Wait!” he shouted as he raced after her.

He tripped and landed on the red cape just off the edge of the road. A spike of pain spiraled from his chest up to his head. He had landed on something hard. He whipped the cape away. It was an old sturdy basket. He glanced around but the girl was nowhere in sight.

Impossible! A part of his mind whispered.

His peripheral vision told him the others were just as puzzled as he as to the vanishing act of the girl.

A local girl would know all the hidden niches in this forest, the logical bit of his brain reasoned.

Fenton personally preferred the latter reasoning.

But that smile? He shuddered but could not help the heat of desire rising in him. His face flushed warm.

Careful, adultery is betrayal…something whispered to him laughingly. An image of Laura flashed in his mind, followed by that of a much younger Madeline Florence.

Fenton almost dropped the basket. That was thirteen years ago and he was only tempted! They did not commit adultery! He had always been faithful to Laura…

His breathing grew heavier again.

But you were tempted! The whisper was almost gleeful. And that means you can be tempted again. You will betray her one day…

For a moment, Fenton faltered.

Just as quickly he recovered. He turned down the temptation once, he would again. And again and again and again forever. There would always be prettier, sexier, wittier women out there. But none had given him twenty years of her life in total commitment, and none had given him two smart and loving sons any parents could be proud of.

He might be just a man, but he was no fool.

No, he would see and he would admire, but he knew that there was only one woman in the world he loved.

Reassured of his self, he ignored the mocking laughter at the back of his mind. Instead he looked into the basket. In the basket was a rolled-up red handmade envelope. The others had crowded around him, watching intently. He unrolled it and withdrew two pieces of transparencies with black markings on them. They were the same size as the two pieces of map that Gray had passed to him. He glanced up and Mathew swiftly handed him the two maps.

He randomly placed the transparencies over the two brown maps on the rough cement road.

He stared for a while at the mess of lines and patterns. It made no sense to him. He looked up. The others shook their heads, indicating it made no sense to them either. At Mathew’s nod, he swapped the transparencies around. He focused on just one map and let someone else handle the other.

At first, those lines on the map before him seemed just as alien.

Something unraveled in his mind. Two sort of cubic-looking patterns stood out against those masses of lines and snagged his attention. There was something familiar about them, those two relatively big and darkened cubic shapes. Suddenly, the lines surrounding them felt familiar.

He felt excitement grow in him.

It did not take long for the excitement melted into a tumult of anger, fear, and then almost despair.

He knew that map.

That bloody map was not drawn to scale! Fenton cursed. The others turned their attention on him. It was a map of Bayport, he told the others and watched the surprise on their faces. No wonder that cubic-like shape felt familiar to him. It was his home at the corner of Elm Street. And the other? Fenton traced the route from his home to the other darkened cubic shape. The other was the Bayport City Library! Fenton realized.

So Gray had specifically handed the maps to him, Fenton, after all. That thought chilled him but he forced it away. He could afford nothing but total commitment to finding his family at this point in time.

“Here, look at this one, Fenton.” Mathew shoved the second map before him. “Do you recognize this map?”

Fenton examined the second map. It took him only a short while this time.

“That’s the layout of Bayport City Library,” he said decisively. “That bastard wanted to confuse us all by making it look like a map with roads and such,” Fenton added angrily. So much time had been wasted!

“What about the numbers in the middle?” Madeline asked.

Fenton stared at the numbers in the shaded box in the middle of the second so-called ‘map’.

728097306VE31

404418-705217

“If this second ‘map’ is the layout of the library, do you think the numbers could be either the ISDN or the Dewey Decimal System?” Gaby suggested.

“I think you’re right, Gaby,” Fenton concurred. “If I remembered correctly, that shaded room is where all the architecture and history books are located…and that’s under the Arts section. And Art classification ranges from 700 to 799 in the Dewey Decimal System…”

“Okay guys, I think we might have a problem here,” Kane called out in a worried voice. “It’s now twenty past noon, and it’ll take us at least four hours to drive back past New York City and to cross over to Long Island into Bayport…”

“And the Bayport City Library closes at 5 p.m.” Fenton added as he and the others raced back to the cars.

“We’ll meet at the main entry to the library…and remember whatever you do, do NOT let yourself get caught for speeding!” Fenton heard someone from the other car yell.

He nodded his head in grim agreement as he started the engine of his car, pulled it into reverse to make the turn, and headed back towards New York City. With a sinking heart, he knew whatever the next clue was in Bayport library, it would take them half an hour to figure out.

It felt to Fenton that the Candyman had everything planned and timed to perfection this time. And deep in his gut, he feared like he never feared before for his sons and his wife.

oooooo

Max stormed out of the secret conference room with the two agents from Secret Service. He slammed the door behind him and ignored the potential consequences.

He had stood at the crossroads of his life and made his choice. There were more important things in life than a high flying career.

Perhaps they knew, perhaps they didn’t. But they would not be able to act until they had concrete proof. He was, after all, the head of the FBI and not without his own resources.

Fury.

He could feel fury coursing through him, clouding all his thoughts and everything he saw before him in an ugly red haze. He had spent his entire life working his heart out and being loyal to the system that created him. He had at times ignored his own principles and made deals that he would not have if he had followed the path of his best friend, Fenton. He had worked his way up the ranks and made it as the youngest ever to head the FBI. He was so proud of his achievements. And he knew from his track record that his future with the Bureau still shone brightly before him.

But now those achievements felt like dust in his mouth. The light of his shining future felt like a painful and ugly yellow-stain glare that hurt all that looked into it.

A man must draw his line somewhere or he would lose everything he had worked against. He would lose everything he worked for. He would lose himself.

And he was angry it took him so long to come to that conclusion. He could only hope it would not be too late for his best friend and all those children. No, with the exception of Fenton’s younger son, Joe, the rest were all adults now…but they were still someone’s children. And as a father himself, he understood very well how each and every one of those parents felt. He would help them…

His thoughts cleared, he gathered his most trusted men about him. He had known those few for years. More importantly, he knew they were men of integrity and principles. That was why their careers were stymied until the day he took office. Now he turned to them for help, and as he expected, they rose to the occasion. Nevertheless he was touched by their selflessness. It made him feel selfish in comparison. Even after he explained how little information he had, how little time they had, and how little chance they had. He explained that they would be going against the Secret Service, and the effects on their careers. But they backed him still. Those were good men and good women out there, they said, and they had to free all those lost children. His eyes burned. They were good men.

Max glanced at his table calendar. Thirtieth of October, it said. He gulped and beads of sweat started to form on his brow. He really had no time left. They had to find the Candyman before the Secret Service did. The Secret Service would not be above sacrificing everyone in the name of their so-perceived national security.

Quickly, he issued his instructions, knowing that his men would carry them out with military precision. He ticked off his to-do list one by one. Collect Con Riley from FBI medical center. Get Chief Ezra Collig to help out. Gather all digital data and folders of recent forensic reports. Finally everyone was to meet at Cohen Technologies as soon as possible.

He watched the video of the last few minutes before the explosion for one last time before packing it for transport over to the Cohens. It showed everyone in the room sleeping, then the gramophone started to play, then came the explosion and the recording went blank. But Max knew they were all still alive, because of the well-cut window in room G108. It was cut so close to the edge that no one realized the clear glass window was gone until two punk kids made their way into the building.

He packed all the recordings and headed out towards his car. There were no more answers to be had within the FBI and its tall, fancy high-tech building. But perhaps the Bayport PD forensic team and Con and the Cohens could shed new perspectives and light on the case. And Phil Cohen, that computer whiz kid, had already told him that he was testing out a theory….

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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.