Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe looked at his brother as the two sat in the office while Fenton was on the phone to the FBI. Fenton was checking on recently escaped convicts who would possibly harbor a grudge against the Hardys. Unfortunately, no names were discovered.

“Maybe we are going about this the wrong way,” said Joe. He had spoken to Jack earlier and Jack had found no escaped criminals.

“What do you mean?” asked Frank.

“Well, what if…” Joe’s voice trailed of as he was hit with a sudden wave of flashbacks, his face turned pale and he suddenly appeared like he had gone back in time. He saw images of Iola Morton, the yellow convertible going up in flames, the funeral, meeting Arthur Grey, the safe house, breaking out, meeting the new detective on the police force, going to England, Al Rousassa, being locked in the basement, blowing the door open, watching as Al Rousassa plunged to his death...

“Joe?” asked Fenton when Joe once again appeared aware of his surroundings. Frank had his hand on Joe’s arm, his face filled with concern. He and his dad had been trying to get Joe’s attention for several minutes now.

“What?” Joe asked, still a little dazed with the assault of memories.

“You zoned out,” Frank whispered quietly while rubbing his hand up and down Joe’s arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m okay. Dad, what if it’s someone who wants revenge for someone we have put away or has died as a cause of one of our old cases, you know, from before I left?"

“Like?” asked Fenton.

“Well, what if Al Rousassa, has any relatives that harbor a grudge against me for killing him?”

“You didn’t kill him, Joe. He fell. You were trying to help him,” Frank said a little more harshly than he intended.

“I, I know, but they may not see it that way.”

Fenton stared at Joe intently, “Do you think the Assassins are back and are behind all of this, son?"

“I am afraid they might be, Dad.”

“What evidence points to this?” Fenton leaned in a little closer to Joe to hear his explanation.

“Well, when I spoke to Liam, he said that these guys were from fourteen years ago. Iola died fourteen years ago. Al-Rousasa died fourteen years ago. I am sure they hold me responsible. And then I heard an explosion in the background before the phone went dead.”

Fenton’s eyes were as wide as saucers when Joe had finished. He rubbed his face wearily. Everything Joe said pointed at the Assassins, right down to the sound of an explosion at the conclusion of a phone call. It was their trademark.

“That’s a lot, Son. If it is the Assassins, then we need to find out where they are staying and what their intention is. We also need solid evidence that we can put into the Chief’s hand.”

Frank, who had been quiet up to this point, grinned proudly at his brother. “Joe got the whole phone conversation on tape!”

“That’s great, Joe! Where is it?”

“It’s at the hotel. I did a written transcript of it also.”

Fenton was already on the offensive. “The first place to start looking is the Assassins old stomping grounds in New York City.”

“Just one problem,” said Frank.

“What?” Joe and Fenton turned to look at Frank simultaneously.

“We don’t have a clue which Assassin we're looking for, what he looks like or if we are even on the right track here,” Frank’s exhaustion was really catching up to him now and the fear for his son and his nephew was taking a stronghold on his anxiety.

“Frank,” it was Joe’s turn to comfort his brother. “We will find them, we will.” Joe squeezed Frank’s shoulder. “I know the very thought of it being the Assassins is scary and overwhelming, but at least we have dealt with them before. We know how they operate. We know where they hide.”

Frank tried to get a hold of himself and be optimistic but it was so hard. He took a deep breath and looked at Joe sorrowfully. “We don’t even know where to start.” His eyes were filled with tears threatening to spill.

“Hey, hey, c’mere” Joe whispered as he pulled his brother in for a tight hug. Frank sobbed as the last ounce of composure drained from his body. Joe just held his brother and rubbed his back as tears threatened to spill down his face as well.

Fenton bowed his head and placed a hand on each of his son’s shoulders. “Well, we might as well start somewhere. Let’s head for New York City.” He gave each of the boy’s a final shoulder squeeze as he headed off to make some phone calls.

Frank had pulled himself together by this point and stepped back a little bit to swipe some of the moisture off of his face. “I’m sorry, Joe.”

“Frank, there is no reason to apologize for loving someone.” Joe gently cupped his hand against Frank’s cheek and looked into his eyes. “He’s your son, Frank. It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too.”

Frank nodded and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Kiddo.”

Joe smiled and caressed Frank’s cheek a moment before tapping it lightly. “Let’s get Dad.”

“I’m here, I’m right here,” Fenton said as he came back over to them.

“Well what are you two waiting for, get your rears moving and get to my car! Come on!” That said, Joe walked out of the office and to his waiting car.

“He’s back,” smiled Frank.

“Oh, he’s back all right!” Fenton agreed as he wrapped his arm around his oldest and walked him toward Joe’s car.

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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.