I stood there a moment, unable to believe it. I think we’ve all heard horror stories about cults and such. One of my classmates’ sister had been involved in a cult several years ago. I never heard the full story of what all happened but I know the guy’s sister died about a year later. No one ever said the cause. Maybe I’m too suspicious but I had a feeling then there was a reason the truth wasn’t told.

I’ve seen movies and stuff on horrible cults who control their followers through mind-altering substances. I shook my head and headed to Frank’s room. Surely ATAC wouldn’t send us into a volatile situation like that.

I found him seated at the computer, one hand on the mouse, sliding it around the desk. “You were right.”

“I was? Of course I was.” I waited a minute, confused. “Right about what?”

“Arthur Stench isn’t his real name.”

I nodded. “I mean, if it had been can you imagine the ridicule and torture he endured at school? Would have been even worse if his father was a garbage collector.”

Frank sighed and pointed to the screen. “He’s originally from the Midwest, grew up an only son of a strict religious father who was a part-time preacher.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Part-time?”

“His father filled in for other preachers, kind of like a substitute teacher.”

“Ahh...okay.”

“Arthur escaped into the legends of King Arthur and Knights of the Round Table—”

I shook my head. “Okay, how on earth do you know that?”

Frank flashed me a grin. “Apparently Arthur Stench is famous under his real name. Known for being a fanatical preacher who was borderline paranoid. He tried on several occasions to start a church following his own particular creed. Each time it fell through because one or two of his followers saw through his sermons and stuff.”

He pointed to the screen and I saw he had what looked like old newspaper files called up. “The reporter here dug up some information on Stench, and according to the end of his article was threatened with bodily harm if the story ran.”

I plopped down on Frank’s bed. “Hmm, so maybe Stench isn’t harmless.”

Frank stared at the screen. “And now he’s trying a different tack. My question is, what’s his motive this time?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Frank looked over at me, a frown on his face. “Joe, maybe we shouldn’t. There are other ATAC agents...”

“But they sent that to us.”

Frank swiveled his desk chair around and pushed off from the desk. The castors squeaked just a bit as he rolled over to the bed. “Joe, Dad’s worried they’ll send us on assignments better suited to older, more experienced agents.”

“So? Wasn’t that the point?”

Frank shook his head. “What I’m trying to say—”

“I know what you’re trying to say. It is risky, like asking to put my head in the lion’s mouth and hoping he won’t chomp.” I shrugged. “But every time we investigate something, isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Frank grunted. “I’d like to see you explain it to Mom that way.”

I glanced at his closed bedroom door. “Hopefully, I won’t have to.”

Frank rolled his way back to the computer. “You’re hopeless.”

I laughed. “But you love me anyway. I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“Hey, I’ll take the assignment of snitching a snack from the kitchen. See if I can sneak in and out without getting caught. Anything in particular?”

“A soda and those cheese crackers.”

I knew he was smiling even though he had his back to me. We were brothers and although the idea of infiltrating a possible cult did bother me, I trusted him. And he trusted me. We were a team. No one can break us up – ever. We’d be fine on this assignment. I knew we would be.

*****

It was about an hour later when I noticed the change. Frank had finally taken a shower and it was time for supper. The house was awfully quiet in an expectant way. Something told me that wasn’t good. I’d spent the time packing for the trip, and listening to the Garbage CD.

I wandered into Frank’s room and saw him back at the computer. “I noticed the dates on the plane tickets are for tomorrow.”

Frank surfaced from his Internet searching and nodded. He glanced at the outer bedroom door. “I think Dad told Mom.”

“You feel it too? Like the calm before the storm?”

Frank nodded. “I found out a little bit more. Stench has always been opposed to modern advances. He prefers hand-made and organic to processed and store-bought.”

He held up a paper. “And this popped up in the search.”

I took the paper and found it was a print-out of a news report. I read it quickly and nodded. “Now I know the reason...”

“Why do they have to be that way, stupid need-to-know basis only,” muttered Frank. “I’ll bet that’s why this has come to ATAC’s attention.”

“Yeah.” I glanced down at the photograph of a young woman. She had light auburn hair, caramel-brown eyes and a scattering of freckles on her nose. She was gorgeous and the daughter of a senator. A very vocal pro-environment senator from Nevada. “With her at the compound, Stench has the perfect leverage. But why not just tell us that?”

“Need-to-know, remember? ‘And if you are compromised, we will disavow all knowledge...’ Or something along those lines.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one who said my idea of a super-secret agency behind ATAC was crazy.”

“I’m reconsidering.” Frank faced the computer just as we both heard Aunt Gertrude’s call for supper. He sighed. “Might as well face the music.”

I rolled my eyes. “And you say my sense of humor is lousy?”

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.