3 HARDYS & A PRINCESS

by

PiperMerlyn

Chapter 10

 

The Chapters

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

EPILOGUE

Joe Hardy settled back in his seat, resting one hand on the steering wheel, his other hand resting on the door. He kept an eye on the rearview mirror to watch for the Interpol agent and then scanned the fast-moving traffic, wondering just how fast he could lose Willoughby in the rush.

It's just way too weird, he thought, shaking his head slightly. How on earth could his dream be real? Well, not that real. It wasn't like he'd been assigned to go to Hong Kong but it just so weird. How could he have dreamed about the Thornes?

"Joe, you falling asleep on me?"

"Huh?" Joe looked over at his brother. "What makes you think that?"

"You're never this quiet."

"I was thinking."

"Should I be worried?" Frank flashed his brother a grin.

Joe glanced at Rory in the back seat who had her head down and was still hugging her backpack. He shook his head at Frank. "No, just thinking about the universe and the unusual."

Frank narrowed his eyes and then nodded. He slid a glance at his sideview mirror and noticed a black car coming up fast on his side. "Joe, looks like someone's in a hurry over here."

Joe shrugged. "Whatever, let him go on. It'd be kind of hard to race him right now," he added, gesturing to the traffic.

Frank looked at his brother. "You know Mario Kart is just a game."

"Yeah. So?"

Frank shook his head and watched the black car come up even with them. He noticed the windows were tinted so dark, he couldn't see the driver. Something about that bothered him. "Joe, I think he's going be insistent about it."

Joe leaned forward slightly to see past Frank. He glanced at Rory who seemed oblivious to their conversation and then back at Frank. "We'll see about that."

Frank frowned. "Joe, don't do anything crazy."

"Who me?" Joe checked to his left and saw a gap between cars. He slid the van to his left and pressed the accelerator. He pulled around two cars and then ducked back into the middle lane. "How's that for not crazy?"

Frank shook his head and kept an eye out for the car. "Joe.."

Joe glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that the black car had snaked through three lanes of traffic to pull up beside the van on Joe's side. Joe scowled. "He really wants to race doesn't he?"

"Joe--"

"Yes, yes, I know, nothing foolish, reckless or crazy. Gotcha."

"What's going on?" asked Rory from the back seat.

"Just a crazy driver," answered Frank, not wanting to worry her.

"Oh."

Joe glanced to his left and saw a black cylinder poke out of the crack left by a partially open window. "A very crazy driver. Shit." Joe twisted around in his seat, saw an opening in the right lane and squeezed into it, amid blaring horns. He edged around a dump truck and moved back into the middle lane. "I'm taking the next exit."

"You think that's a good idea?"

Joe grunted and spared a brief glance for Rory. "Got any suggestions?"

"Joe, be nice." Frank swallowed hard, he'd seen the silencer end of a gun as well and didn't like the idea someone was trying to shoot them. He looked over at Rory and wondered if the would-be shooter was aiming for her. "No exits."

Joe looked over at him as if Frank had grown another head or something. "What?"

"We're safer on the expressway."

Joe grunted. "Safer. Depends on your definition there."

"We're safer on here because he can't just corner us or pull us over. The traffic actually helps."

"No, it doesn't because I'm having a devil of a time getting away from him," muttered Joe. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He spared another glance for Rory and sighed. "I saw a gun, Frank."

"So did I. Just keep swerving through the traffic but no exits."

"A gun?!" said Rory, shocked.

Frank took a deep breath. "It'll be okay, Rory."

"I should have stayed with Kane. I was safe there."

Frank didn't say anything, wondering if maybe she was right. Apparently no one had known she'd hide out with Kane. Maybe they had brought the killer right to her. He didn't like the path his thoughts were taking and focused on helping Joe weave his way through traffic.

After several minutes of reckless weaving, Frank couldn't see the black car anymore. Unfortunately, he couldn't see Willoughby's car either. "Well, you've succeeded in losing anyone who was following us."

Joe didn't look too concerned. "She said she had a map."

Frank sighed and shook his head. "Joe."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Joe relaxed in his seat and glanced at Frank. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, she said she could find her way. I'm taking her at her word."

"Well, it's not like she might have been useful, being an Interpol agent or anything."

"What? She was supposed to jump out in the middle of traffic and shout, 'Interpol--freeze'?" Joe suddenly started laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Rory, frowning.

Frank shook his head.  "Joe watches too many movies."

"Hey, you watched that one too." Joe grinned and mimicked a British accent. " 'Privileged information, for your eyes only, need to know and all that'."

"I watched it so I could watch the bloopers at the end. That's what I like about Jackie Chan movies, he always shows the bloopers with the end credits."

Joe grinned. "I love the one at the end of Rush Hour 2, where Chris Rock gets a phone call in the middle of a scene and has to have Jackie tell the caller he's in the middle of a scene."

Frank started to say something about a blooper from another Jackie Chan movie, The Tuxedo, when he spotted the black car coming up behind them. "Joe, we've got company."

Joe muttered something under his breath and glanced to his left but an eighteen-wheeler blocked him that way. He glanced to his right but the gap between an old Ford F150 and a late model Chevrolet Impala wasn't big enough for the van. "Shit."

Frank turned around in his seat, hoping the would-be shooter wouldn't be crazy enough to try something on the expressway. He watched the vehicle in front of them slowly pull past the truck. Ahead of the F150 was a long stretch of empty road. "Joe, if this car ahead of us moves up a little more, you can slip past it and into the right lane."

"Think if I blow the horn, it'll move? Damn, we need a siren."

Frank just sighed and kept an eye on the black car behind them. It came up close enough to touch bumpers and Frank tried to get a good look at the driver but the tint was dark and the glass only reflected the glare of the sun.

Joe drove as close as he dared to the car in front of him and succeeded in making the driver move up a little faster. As soon as he  could squeeze the van through, he darted into the right lane, making people blow their horns. He zoomed ahead and glanced at Frank. "Exit now?"

Frank glanced out the back window of the van. The black car was blocked in by the car in front, the F150 truck on the right and the eighteen-wheeler on his left. "Yeah. Exit. We'll take the old route to Bayport."

Joe grunted. "That means we'll miss seeing Dad meet Willoughby."

Frank just sighed and shook his head.

                                                ***

Fenton Hardy stood in his room, watching the hallway through a crack in his door. Since he'd heard something shatter in his sister's room and had left Ella in the cabinet in the kitchen, it seemed as if hours had passed but it had only been three minutes. He hadn't heard anything else since the sound of glass breaking had alerted him.

He frowned and adjusted his grip on his gun. Had they smashed the glass in Gertrude's window to get in? No, it hadn't sounded that forceful. It had sounded different, like they'd--Fenton groaned. Oh, no, they hadn't broken her vase, had they? She would never forgive him if that particular vase had gotten broken.

He heard a noise just then, kind of a heavy thump and he wondered if they were coming up the stairs now. He angled his head and gazed out of the crack and went completely still. Two figures clad completely in black with a strip of cloth covering the lower half of their faces stood at the top of the stairs. Fenton stared at them, stunned, unable to comprehend for a split second and then he shook his head. What the hell were ninjas doing in his house?

He watched them try the first door to their left which led to Joe's room. They looked in but didn't bother to go inside. Fenton had the errant thought that he should have hid in his youngest son's room. Although not filthy, it did tend to be a tad messier than Frank's room with clothes tossed over the back of the desk chair, the footboard of the bed, the gym shoes airing out in one corner. Joe usually made his bed by flipping the covers up over the pillows and leaving all his old schoolwork on top because every morning, he hastily cleaned out his backpack from the day before.

Fenton watched them go to the next door, Frank's room. They opened it and looked in and then turned to the door at the end of the hall--the door that led to the attic. He waited until they'd opened the door, noticed the stairs and disappeared inside to dash across to Joe's room.

He thought about Ella and winced. She must be going stir crazy in that cabinet but he had to deal with the ninjas. He shook his head. Ninjas. He thought he saw a flash of color from outside and went to Joe's window. For a brief moment, he remembered the hole in one pane and swallowed hard. Joe had insisted on leaving the bullet in the doorframe and when Fenton spared a glance he could see the sun glinting off the dull metal embedded in the wood.

He looked out and saw three police cars, lights flashing but no sirens. Fenton took a deep  breath and  debated with himself on something. The attic had a standard lock on the door but he rarely had to use it anymore. He peeked out of Joe's room but saw no sign of the ninjas. Making his decision, Fenton ran to the attic door, ready to lock it when it swung inward and he found himself facing the two surprised ninjas.

Fenton pointed the gun at them. "Don't move. Don't even blink."

The two men stared at him with cold black eyes. Fenton took a step back and another. "Follow me, keep your hands empty and where I can see them."

The two ninjas didn't move, just stood there. After a long moment, one moved toward Fenton, slowly, deliberately and then stopped again. Fenton knew that ninjas were silent assassins, highly trained and capable of lethal blows with just their hands and feet. He didn't like that one had moved and one hadn't. "Both of you." He didn't want to take his eyes off either of them.

There was a splintering sound and Fenton nearly turned his head to see what had happened. Both ninjas started forward but Fenton clicked off the safety and shook his head. "No. Ezra, up here."

There was a thump of heavy steps on the stairs and then a loud sigh. "Shit, Fenton, I leave you to your own devices for a little while and you find ninjas," said Ezra Collig, unholstering his own police issue weapon.

"Riley, Sheridan, up here."

Con Riley and Jesse Sheridan rushed up the stairs, guns in one hand and handcuffs in the other. Fenton took a step back. "I need to check on something."

At Ezra's nod, Fenton rushed down the stairs to the kitchen cabinet. He yanked open the door and Ella nearly spilled out onto the floor. She was shaking but trying not to cry. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she had her hands over her ears.

Gently, Fenton pulled her hands away. "Ella, it's okay. It's me. Everything's okay."

She looked up at him, burst into tears and fell into his open arms.

"How touching," said a masculine voice from the direction of the kitchen table.

Fenton jerked around and nearly knocked Ella down. The man seated at his kitchen table was gray-haired and brown-eyed. He wore a three-piece black suit and a gun sat on the table within easy reach.

Fenton scowled. "Who the hell are you?"

"Bernard Thorne, Mister Hardy. I see my minions have failed in retrieving what I wanted."

"Get out of my house."

"I can't do that." Several loud thumps came from upstairs, sounding like bodies falling to the floor. Thorne glanced up at the ceiling. "Hmm, perhaps I was hasty in judging them. Give me the girl, Mister Hardy, and I'll let you live."

"No."

Bernard Thorne sighed. "I was afraid you would say that," he said, picking up the gun and aiming it at Fenton.

 

 

 

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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.