Chapter Title: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

The prison cell had a solid steel door and cement walls, not conventional bars.  Containing only one prisoner, it was designed to keep him from communicating with other prisoners.  The door opened.  John woke at the sound.  He sat up on the bunk where he’d been lying.  Over the past several days, he had spent much time asleep on that bunk.  He felt like he had been catching up on a few years of lost sleep.  If he had still been having his nightmares, he did not recall them on waking anymore.  He found this strange as he did not know if the rescue of Ivana had been successful or not, so had expected the same nightmares as soon after he had thought she had died.  Having thought for so long she was dead only to discover otherwise, he found now he could not believe she had been harmed.  He could tell the poison gas device had been stopped because he knew this cell was in Port City .  He knew that from coming to see prisoners in these cells, not from having been a prisoner himself here before.

A man in a white frock entered, a stethoscope around his neck.  The solid door was shut behind him by a guard.

John had had many visitors.  The other visitors had questioned him.  He figured he had had to give the details of the case four dozen times to officials from an alphabet soup of government agencies.  John speculated some of the repetitions were to search for discrepancies, since it was well known that liars often made mistakes if forced to tell their stories multiple times.  However, other repetitions were because the various agencies did not cooperate very well so had to duplicate each other’s work.  John guessed the isolation was to prevent him from discussing the events with his brother and friends so they could put together a story that agreed.  Likely effective if he and the others had been guilty, but extremely annoying since they were not.

The day after his arrival, John had been put into nice cloths and without handcuffs had been paraded out so photographers could take pictures of him.  He wasn’t allowed to say anything to them.  He felt like he was a prisoner in a communist country.  He had then been led back to the cell.  All the rest of the time, he’d been here, either answering questions or sleeping.

“I’m a doctor.  I got your medical records from the Port City hospital.  You’re due to have stitches out today.”

John remarked, “I thought doctors haven’t made house calls in years.”

“You must have committed a very bad crime not to be brought to the prison clinic. There are guards right outside this door, so don’t try anything.  You’re here for murder, I assume?  It’d have to be something very bad for so many guards and this isolation cell.”

John snorted, “These lovely accommodations are my reward for helping save the city.  I assume the same thing is happening to my brother and friends.  They saved the city with me.  No good deed goes unpunished.”

The doctor had John bend over.  He deftly snipped the two stitches and removed them with a tweezers.  As he worked, the doctor remarked, “You must really hate the government for that.  It must be tempting to join an organization seeking to overthrow the government after being a hero, as you claim, then being treated this way.”

John twisted his gaze to look at a small black spot on the wall.  It looked like a nail hole, but he was certain it contained a video camera.  He knew some modern video cameras could work with an aperture that small.  Others might find that paranoid, but he and Fritz had used a camera just like that in a previous case for Entangle.  Furthermore, the wall looked freshly patched around the nail hole, as though the videocamera had been installed recently.

“I don’t hate the government,” John replied.  He then gave a patriotic speech as if this were the Fourth of July.  Initially, the doctor took this seriously and listened with rapt attention, but realized John was going overboard with the Pledge of Allegiance.

“You’re making fun of a serious situation,” the man said.

John innocently responded, “I’ll claim I wasn’t if it lets me pass your stupid little test and go home.  Are you a real doctor?”

“Yes,” he said indignantly.

“Probably of psychiatry.”

By the doctor’s change in expression, John knew he’d struck home.

The doctor confirmed this, “Being a psychiatrist as opposed to a psychologist required going to medical school.  I’ve often removed stitches during my medical training.”

“Fine.  Here, I’ll sing the national anthem to convince you I’m a true American who isn’t seeking the violent overthrow of the government.”

John started to do just that.  The doctor took his scissors and tweezers, then headed to the door.

Just before the doctor left, he declared, “You have an extremely good singing voice, Mr. Hardly.”

The doctor left and the door was secured behind him.  John figured he blew it by being so sarcastic, but he was fuming after being kept here so many days.  Singing was not the angry shouting that he had been most tempted to do because of the injustice of this situation.  He felt he had come a long way in keeping his temper under control to manage even this.

An hour later, a prison guard unlocked the door, “You and your brother are being released.”

John asked, “What were the charges anyway?  I had a constitutional right to know, but nobody would tell me.”

“There are no charges and never been any.  You and your brother have been under the protective custody that you both requested.  Please come with me.”

John didn’t bother to tell the guard that this was the first he had heard of that.  The guard stopped at another cell.  Fritz came out of that one.

John muttered to Fritz, “I expected to be questioned for a full day, but this many days was ridiculous.  What’s going on?”

Fritz replied, “I don’t know.  I’ve gotten no word about Ivana, Christine, Conrad, or Vicky.  Have you?”

“I don’t even know if they are alive!  Last I knew before being locked up, the news blew Ivana’s cover!  I was stopped from reporting it to you guys by gun-toting goons dressed like ninjas.”

“So that’s why we didn’t hear from you.  I do know our friends are all physically fine, even Ivana.”

“Whew!  I figured you were successful at stopping the poison gas device since this isn’t a dead city,” John said.

“I was forced into what was called protective custody just after we deactivated the poison gas device.  I saw all the others alive and well and the bad guys subdued before that.  Red hair looks terrible on Ivana.”

John countered, “I thought she looked great at the motel.”

“You would.”

John decided, “I hope she goes back to her normal hair color, though.”

Fritz said, “Given your love of fast cars, you’ve got to talk Conrad into letting you take his car onto the race track outside town.  It outraced Chief Clymer’s squad car as if it were standing still.”

“That’s great,” John said in a monotone, lacking his normal enthusiasm for fast cars.  “Tell me how Ivana was rescued.”

Fritz told John the whole story.

After that, John told his brother, “You’re looking well rested for a change.”

“Other than the interviews, I had nothing else to do in the cell but sleep.  You look well rested yourself.”

John asked, “Having nightmares?”

“A few, but now that Port City has been saved, I can fall back asleep again and sleep the rest of the night.”

When Fritz said that, John realized this is what had been happening to him too.  After he had fallen back asleep, he had generally forgotten having been woken by the nightmare in the first place.  It was not as good as not having the nightmares at all, but it was tolerable.  John felt more normal than he had in a long time.

Soon, they were walking outside the prison.  They had their own clothes on again.  When they were getting dressed, John had stood in front of a mere and looked at his back.  He could not even find a scar.

Without fanfare and with no mention to the media, the two brothers really had been released.  Outside the prison, a man in a dark gray suit hurried up and walked beside them.

Fritz asked Dr. Ruby, who was the one wearing the gray suit, “What happened to our friends?”

“They were released after one day of questioning.”

Fritz asked, “Why were John and I held so long?”

Dr. Ruby explained, “For one thing, Tomlin claimed you two were also Obliterators.  He had planted files in the Port City Police computer supporting that.  He’d done that before we got the security hole plugged.  Those files were quickly proven to be recent additions and not even in the correct format for genuine police files, but some of the agencies refused to accept that.  Beyond that, though, you two are with Entangle.  Other agencies are jealous of our success.  Holding you so long was sending me a message to stay off their turf.  They didn’t do this to Mr. Morrow because even they could tell he knew very little about our organization.”

John remarked, “If we’d stayed out of this case, much of the population of Port City would be dead!”

Dr. Ruby announced, “You aren’t supposed to say that in public.  When you get home, go over the newspapers from the past few days.  Stick to what the media reports as if it were true.  It’s for national security reasons.  Important people do know what you did and you should be proud that this success led to a nice budget increase for Entangle.”

Fritz asked, “Was the new money taken away from other agencies?”

“Well, it might be.  That’s partly why the other agencies decided to conduct this test on you two.  If you had failed, they’d have stopped Entangle from getting the new resources.  You two did just fine, though.  Fritz, I saw the video of your meetings with the psychiatrist.  I’m impressed by how well you kept your temper with him egging you on.  As for you, John, singing was a great idea.”

John said, “I knew somebody was watching, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Dr. Ruby informed them, “Your performance was seen by a whole room full of people.”

Fritz said, “Several days ago, I was dragged out to the photographers but not allowed to talk to them.  I assume that was to prove I wasn’t dead.  Did they do that to you, John?”

John nodded.

Fritz continued, “Despite that one appearance, aren’t our friends concerned we’ve been missing so long?” 

Dr. Ruby smiled, “I talked to Christine and hired her.  Properly directed, the same traits that make her so annoying will make her a good agent.  Under my orders, she started a rumor that you two were away on another case already.”

Fritz morosely said, “We’ve been away from Port City on cases so often in the past few years, I’ll bet our friends weren’t even surprised.”

Dr. Ruby asked, “What do you two think about Conrad Morrow?  I hired him temporarily for this case.  Do you think he’d do well as an agent?”

John replied, “I never thought of Conrad joining.”

Fritz said, “I think he’s been forced to mature during the years that he thought his sister was dead.  I think he could do a decent job, but I don’t know if he’d want to work for Entangle.  Although no longer undercover, is Ivana staying on board?”

“Not at present.  I’m hoping she’ll change her mind after a few weeks rest.  She plans on going back to high school, resuming where she left off,” Dr. Ruby responded.

Fritz said, “John and I have performed successfully in high school for many, many years while also working for Entangle, without too much trouble.  Attending high school and working for you does not have to be mutually exclusive.”

Dr. Ruby suggested, “It might help Ivana to hear that point of view.  However, I suggest waiting a few weeks while she rests before bringing it up.”

John said, “I hope you take some time off yourself, too.  You look exhausted.”

Dr. Ruby didn’t respond to that.  He turned aside and disappeared into a crowd of visitors waiting to get into the prison to see their imprisoned loved ones.

Fritz and John took a taxi from the prison to their home.  No reporters were in front of it.  Leaning against the garage was John’s motorcycle and helmet.  Lying in the driveway was a stack of newspapers, each in a protective plastic bag.  Fritz and John would have had the paper put on hold if they had known they’d be gone an extended time.  They had had no chance to do that.  Neither had even been allowed to make a phone call.

Fritz said, “I guess nobody knows we’re back.”

“My motorcycle is here, but the rental car is gone,” John observed.

They gathered the newspapers and went up to the house.  The security system showed the house had not been broken into.  They suspected it would have been searched by the police with a search warrant if they had really been seriously considered as criminal suspects.  Dr. Ruby seemed correct that their long stay had been mainly to send a warning message to Entangle rather than seriously considering Fritz and John as criminals.

Fritz gathered the mail and noticed a note, “This is from Officer McCormick.  He took the liberty of returning our rental car.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t stolen.  The rental fees would have piled up if it’d been sitting here the whole time.  I don’t really mind riding the motorcycles.”

Fritz frowned, “I do.  They’re too dangerous.”

Later, with both boys sitting in the living room, John read an article about Ivana in a newspaper.  He loudly groaned at how absurd it was.

Reading another story in a different newspaper, Fritz remarked, “This says we overheard a conversation by the bombers while they were at the mall.  Being amateur detectives, we foolishly confronted them.  They laughed and walked away.  The bombers, with one of their extra bombs, blew up our van to warn us to keep quiet.  We were so scared that we pleaded to the police to be taken into protective custody, refusing to say what we knew unless we were.  The police had to learn what we knew, so complied.  Our supposed death was to accomplish that.  We then told everything.  They then worked with various government agencies and stopped the bombers, while we were safely hidden away.  The bomb, a conventional explosive, was stopped two miles from the convention center by the superb security and its range was only about a hundred feet.  Thus, the President, various other politicians, and the audience were never in danger.  No mention is made of nerve gas or that we work for Entangle.”

John said, “Very creative writing.  It’s also libelous and a malicious attack on our good characters.”

“Correct, but it keeps the citizens from Port City from knowing how much danger they were really in.”

John argued, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.  However, I’ll go along with the story.  After all, it’s for national security and all that.  Hey, here’s something about Gordon Snuff, the real one.  He’s out of the hospital.  He’s well on his way to a full recovery.”

Fritz said, “I don’t like him, but I’m really glad to hear that.”

Fritz went to the phone in the kitchen.  On the answering machine were a huge number of messages from Christine, Conrad, and Ivana.  Notably missing where any messages from Vicky.  Using this phone as some government agency still had possession of his cell phone as evidence, Fritz called Christine.  After the call was done, he told John that she was coming by to pick him up.  They were going out car shopping.

John speculated, “Another van?”

“Maybe.  I liked the convertible we had before the van.”

John noted, “We can’t get a convertible bulletproofed.  Even if we could, taking down the top would defeat the whole point.  Look for something we can make bulletproof.”

Fritz chuckled, “Says the guy who rides a motorcycle.  That’s worse than any convertible.  A motorcycle is dangerous enough even without people shooting at us.  Come along and help look for a new and safe car, John.”

“No, thanks.”

Fritz declared, “I won’t buy anything until you have a look.  Are you going to phone Vicky?  You were right, her computer skills really are better than mine.  She did a great job.”

“Tell that to Dr. Ruby and with his new big budget, he’ll try to hire her too.  Entangle can always used more computer experts,” John suggested.

Fritz asked, “Hey, how about calling Ivana?”

John stood and declared, “Instead of calling, I’ll head out to see Ivana, surprising her.”

John and Fritz went out to John’s motorcycle.  The front tire was new and inflated.  A note was taped to the bike’s seat, sun faded and water spotted.  The note was from Conrad, saying he’d had the front wheel fixed.

“That was thoughtful,” Fritz remarked.

John put on his helmet.  He climbed aboard the motorcycle.  In the distance, he saw Christine driving up in her car.  She and Fritz would have much to discuss.  John felt their conversation would be better done without him around.  One kick started the machine.  He raced off before she arrived.

 

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.