Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Bob Jefferson smiled wanly. "I pretty much kept to myself when I was a kid. I wasn't very outgoing and I didn't have many friends. That treasure cave was my special private place. It's really hard to find because it's so well hidden. I never had to worry that others would discover it. My dad always had lots of money, so it never occurred to me that we'd need to use any of the treasure."

"Are you married, Mr. Jefferson?" Frank asked. "What happened to Bobby's mother?"

The man shook his head sadly. "That's another thorn in my side, boys. I've led a life of hard luck because of the Mysterians. I married a girl named Marie when I was in college, and Bobby was born a year later. But my wife despised the cult's control over me. I had a good job and made a good living, but the cult took a lot of my money and made me only a poor caricature of a man. It all made Marie very sick and she passed away two years ago, an unhappy and tormented woman."

Joe pounded a fist lightly on the table. "But why didn't you let your parents know you were still alive? Your mother got sick because of your disappearance and she passed on, too."

Bob Jefferson's face lost the little color it had and his lids fell closed in sadness. "I can't explain it, boys. The cult had control of me and I've been helpless all these years to do anything about it. They have ruined the lives of many other people, too. I'm not the only one."

"Then they need to be locked away in prison, all of them," Frank declared adamantly. "That way they can harm no one else, ever again."

Bob Jefferson sneezed again, then rose to his feet, a determined scowl appearing on his face. "Then let's go upstairs and get them," he growled. "I feel like I could wring their necks, every last one of them!"

Joe shook his head to disagree. "I think it's best if you never see any of them again, ever. They have too much power over you."

Frank agreed. "Ditto on that. You need to get away and stay away. Our dad snuck into this building earlier tonight. We saw him from the library reading room across the street. He always carries a gun, so we'll have protection. We're going to go upstairs to help him out. The best thing you can do is go get the police."

"Right. That way we can round up the whole cult," Joe put in. "Do you know where the nearest police station is?"

The man nodded. "Of course I do. My son and I live in this neighborhood."

"Then you go hightail it to the station," Frank advised. "Joe and I will help our dad keep the cult at bay until the police come."

"All right, boys," Bob Jefferson said eagerly. "That's a sensible plan. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you rescued my son, and now me."

Joe regarded him with a cautious glance. "It's not over yet. The Mysterians are obviously a clever bunch of people and we'll have to keep our fingers crossed that we can outwit them all the way."

Bob Jefferson followed the boys out to the hall and they crept quietly down to the room in which they had entered through the open window. They could hear the revelry from upstairs and were glad that all the cult members were up there partaking in whatever kind of mysterious rites prevailed.

The boys used the flashlights to lead Bob Jefferson to the window.

"It'll take me about five minutes to get to the station," he whispered. "So look for me to return with the police in about fifteen minutes or sooner."

"Good luck!" they wished him, as he squeezed out through the window.

"Poor fellow. Life has been rough for him, I'll say," Frank ruminated, as they crossed back to the hall.

"It sure has, but his future will be a bright one," Joe reasoned. "Elroy Jefferson will welcome him back with open arms, and little Bobby, too, of course. The family already has lots of money, but with that treasure on Cabin Island, why they'll be multi-millionaires!"

Happy that things were going to work out well for the Jeffersons, the boys crept down the hall to the stairwell in the building's middle that led up and down. Both Frank and Joe grimaced as they looked up to the next floor. The noise from the cult members' festivities was getting louder, and they had no idea what to expect when they arrived upstairs.

"Good night!" Joe hissed. "They sure are a queer bunch. Sounds like a pack of Indians!"

Frank's lips were resolutely set, his eyes determined. "Let's get this show on the road. I'm game. How about you?"

Joe chuckled. "You bet! It's time to rustle up these birds and clip their wings!"

Holding their flashlights out in front of them like weapons, the Hardy boys slowly ascended the stairway to the fourth floor, the location of the cult's revelry.

"Wow," Frank exclaimed in a low tone as they stepped into the hallway of the fourth floor. "It sure looks different up here, doesn't it?"

Joe nodded in agreement. Small wall sconces with ruby shades cast a reddish glow along the carpeted hall that was flanked by walls covered with a silky fabric of a design showing the planets and stars, solar systems, galaxies, and signs of the zodiac. It was very plush and elegant, a different world from the floor below. Toward the back of the building were large double doors, closed now and obviously leading into the auditorium the colored man had told them about. From behind the doors came the sound of the cult's feverish merriment.

"That must be the Inner Sanctum in there," Joe whispered.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Frank added, as they crept down the eerie hallway past several closed oaken doors. He switched off his flashlight and Joe followed suit. "There's enough light here. We won't need these for now."

Several feet in front of the double doors, on the right side, was a dimly lit hall. Frank motioned to Joe to enter it. They both knew they couldn't just go barging in through the big double doors; the hall might provide a less conspicuous access to the auditorium. Joe turned into the hall and crept along, his brother following him. Various doors led off of it to hither and yon. One, on their left, which looked like it might lead to the bigger room in which the cult was revelling, was slightly ajar.

"Let's try in here," Joe suggested. "Dad may have come this way."

Frank nodded silently and the boys moved through the doorway into the room beyond, which was dark in shadows. Joe halted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness rather than turning on his flashlight. He could feel his brother waiting tensely behind him.

"It's just another hallway," he hissed a minute later, seeing that walls surrounded them. "Follow me."

Frank followed him down the narrow hall and, as they moved on, the sounds of the cult revelry grew louder. Then, the hall took a quick turn to the left and the glow of soft lighting could be seen ahead. The boys inched on, realizing that they were approaching the auditorium, the Inner Sanctum of the Mysterians.

They crept forward a few more feet and Frank suddenly grabbed Joe from behind and put his lips to his brother's ear. "Look, through that arch on our left. There are rows of seats. It's like a balcony to the Inner Sanctum!"

Joe turned to look and then nodded. He stepped through the arch into the small area, like a gallery, that contained eight rows of theater-like seating. It overlooked the large auditorium in which the cult members were writhing and cavorting in what appeared to be senseless abandon. No one was in the gallery, and Frank and Joe slipped into a row of seats so that they could sit and watch. Hardly daring to breathe, they sat on the edge of the seats and peered into the auditorium.

The Inner Sanctum of the Mysterians was large and high-ceilinged with walls draped in blood-red velvet, and dimly lit by recessed lighting. Astrological symbols were to be seen everywhere, on the wall coverings, the fabric of the furniture, dangling in abundant profusion from the dark ceiling, and embellished on the crimson flowing robes the members were now wearing along with their domino masks. Weird, frenetic music played from an unseen source and the robed figures cavorted in spasmodic movements, weaving in and out amongst themselves.

In the center of the room against the far wall was an elevated altar with several marble steps leading up to it. On the top of the altar were several large astrological artifacts, planet and star symbols in sculpture, and two golden vessels in which bright flames burned. The whole room reeked with the smell of a peculiar sweet incense.

Joe made a face. "Yuck! That stuff stinks," he whispered.

Frank leaned forward to better view the revelers. "They look like they all had too much to drink. What a bunch of clowns, eh?"

Just then, the music came to an end and the lights were turned up slightly. The attendees, who had worked themselves up into a frenzy, stopped their whirling and twirling, and seated themselves on the various couches and chairs and large cushions situated along the side walls of the room. As they quieted down, a loud musical gong rang out three times and, from a chamber aside the altar, the Grand Master of the cult, the man known to the Hardy boys as Question Mark, came striding out. He was dressed in one of the flowing crimson robes and a black domino mask, as were the others, and atop his head was an elaborately decorated cone shaped wizard's hat. He walked to the center of the altar and turned to face the members, who politely applauded him.

Question Mark began to speak in a voice that was big and booming:

"Good evening, Mysterians! We have gathered on this special night to celebrate the beginning of a New Year, the time of which will be upon us soon. It promises to be a profitable year for our group as we are working to acquire some valuable properties to add to our coffers. We are just about finished wrapping up the deal with the midtown hotel. It is a small residential one and will soon be a residence for our members who wish to make it their home."

There was general murmur of pleasant agreement to this suggestion.

Question Mark continued, "Much to our dismay, I am sure, its previous owner, who so badly wanted to join our ranks, is now residing in a Long Island sanitarium. It seems he went a little crazy, poor fellow. I can't imagine why. But not before he signed his property over to us, of course."

A low chuckle rippled through the audience.

Joe's fists clenched. "They drove that man crazy to get his property," he blurted out. "Why ... those ignorant ruffians!"

Frank put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Shhh! They'll hear you."

"However," the Grand Master continued in a more serious tone, "we have not made such good progress in acquiring the Cabin Island property up at Barmet Bay with its hidden cache of pirate treasure. We have run into some obstacles but hope to have them smoothed out soon. We were there yesterday but our mode of operation did not work, thus a couple of our operatives will be going back to Bayport after the holiday to begin working on the mind of the owner himself. His son, who has been a lackey of ours for years, is no longer willing to help us and seems to have leapt out of our control for now."

A murmur of disappointment could be heard from the members in the auditorium. Frank and Joe stared hard at the people, amazed that they believed they could gain control of Elroy Jefferson's mind. It may have worked on his weak-willed son, but it would never work on Mr. Jefferson himself!

Question Mark silenced the discord with a wave of his hand. "Have no fear, Mysterians. It is just a temporary setback. We shall prevail. It is only a matter of time until we own Cabin Island and its treasure, which I saw with my very own eyes yesterday and can guarantee is worth a king's fortune."

Suddenly, just then, before the members could react to their leader's statement, an object came flying over from seemingly nowhere to land directly at the feet of the Grand Master Question Mark.

With a loud gasp, he stooped over to pick it up. Frank and Joe, from their seats in the dark empty gallery, could instantly see that it was the gold and silver jeweled pin they had found on the ice at Cabin Island!

Joe nudged Frank and whispered, "Hypers! Dad is in there somewhere. He tossed that pin up to the altar!"

Frank nodded, craning his neck to look around. "He must be one of them. He's wearing a mask and robe!"

Question Mark had been turning the stick-pin over in his hand. His swarthy sinister masked face now looked down at the members with a scowl.

"I lost this pin at Cabin Island yesterday," he declared with a growl. "I went back both yesterday and this morning to look for it, but could not find it. But it is obvious that someone else did! Whoever tossed this pin up at me is a spy amongst us. An infiltrator! How dare you enter the Inner Sanctum of the Mysterians, whoever you are, and so disrespectfully toss a sacred pin at me!"

The members remained silent, twisting and turning to look suspiciously at each other. Frank and Joe could barely suppress their anxiety to make a move to help their father. Which one of the robed and masked figures was he?

"Who is it amongst us who brought this stick-pin here?" the Grand Master angrily demanded.

But no response came forth. Question Mark gazed at them all with a furious scowl.

"Then we must all unmask," he growled, striding down the steps from the altar, crimson robe billowing behind him. "And so we will know that the unfamiliar face amongst us is the spy in our midst!"

He pulled off his mask, exposing his eyes and nose, looking at the others with grimly set lips. Then, one by one, the Mysterians got to their feet and began to take off their masks, everyone looking at each other to see and recognize the familiar faces of their comrades, and thus the face of the stranger.

Frank and Joe watched the proceedings, mesmerized. Their hearts were hammering in their chests as the masks came off, one by one, until all the members faces were exposed except one, a tall man with dark hair.

"That's got to be Dad," Joe breathed. "What's he going to do?"

The man whom the boys believed to be their father began to step back and inch away from the group toward a side wall. With a quick movement, he withdrew a pistol from an inner pocket beneath his robe and aimed it at the Mysterians. There was a collective gasp as the cult members stepped back. But not so their furious leader. He deliberately strode toward the man with the gun!

"How dare you!" he admonished. "What are you going to do, shoot me?"

In response, a shot rang out as the gun spit fire, the bullet barely missing the cult leader's arm.

"The next shot I have to fire will hit home, guaranteed!" the boys heard their father's voice ring out as the gunman waved his weapon back and forth at the crowd.

Question Mark had stopped in his tracks, gaping first at the mysterious gunman and then at his terrified cult members.

"Well, do something, somebody!" he sputtered like a fool. "Don't let him get away with this!"

The boys heard their father laugh. "There is nothing you can do, old boy. In your ridiculous arrogance you didn't even place a guard in this building tonight. And in about two minutes the police will be here in force to haul each and every one of you down to the station and book you on numerous charges!"

"The jig is up, Mysterians," Fenton Hardy added. "The only 'Question Mark' you will all be thinking of from now on is the one at the end of the question, 'How long will I be in jail?'"

But the cult leader refused to be quelled. He raised a clenched fist into the air.

"You'll never get away with it," he cried. Then, turning to the others, he implored, "Don't let him fool you. He's working on his own. The police are not coming. It's a lie. Capture him!"

Question Mark lunged forward, as did several of the other men, in a concerted effort to attack Fenton Hardy. At that same moment, Frank and Joe jumped out of their seats and ran out into the hall and down to the auditorium to come to their father's aid.

And just then, to the utter astonishment of everyone, there was a strange grinding noise and all the lights went out!

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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.