Frank Hardy drove his black van into Bayport's boat harbor parking lot and cut the engine as far away from the dock as possible; slightly behind a clump of unidentifiable shrubs bordering the woods behind it. He turned his head to his younger brother, Joe, who was asleep in the passenger's side. Frank nudged him and his eyes fluttered open. "We're here," Frank said.
Joe sat up, rubbed his eyes, and glanced at his watch. "Quarter till two," he read aloud. Then, for the first time since the trip had started, he looked over at his eldest brother with panic. "They should be here by now," Joe said, his voice tight and slightly hoarse.
"They'll be here." Frank was always the logical, more strategic brother out of them both. With his lean, muscular shape and dark chestnut eyes he seemed to immediately register as the "intellectual" type.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw a limo pull into the lot followed by a completely restored '60's Challenger painted a dark, cherry red, with a guitar's bridge artfully decorating the doors on either side of the vehicle.
Joe tapped his brother's shoulder. "Frank look," he said, pointing.
Frank turned his attention to the vehicles just in time to see two men in dark trench coats exit the limo and head out of sight towards the dock. Meanwhile, a disheveled young man in his early twenties dressed in office work clothes stepped out of the other with a briefcase clutched tightly to his chest. He glanced nervously around before bounding after the other men.
Frank pulled on Joe's shirt. "C'mon. Wherever they're going, we are too." He and Joe both silently got out of the van and slinked to the edge of the shrubbery. Once there, Frank gave a look around before nodding to Joe that the coast was clear. They both dashed across the pavement to the dock. Joe argued that he wanted to keep going to the end of it, but Frank held a finger to his lips and pointed to a vacant fishing boat tied off close to the end of the dock. Reluctantly, Joe nodded in agreement and scurried up the ladder after his brother.
Once Joe reached the deck, he hoisted himself up and realized that he was standing in a part of the boat called the stern, which was the back portion of the vessel. He moved his gaze around the boat's floor and saw that it was severely damaged, and was probably the reason why it was sitting unused and forgotten in the harbor. Nearly every weekend, Joe, Frank, and their father Fenton Hardy go fishing at this dock and the ship he was standing in hadn't moved since he could remember.
Fishing equipment was lying everywhere throughout the vessel and dangerously large holes were sporadically blown away from its floor. Joe could feel his weight cause stress on the rotting boards jutting up from the wooden deck on which he was standing. He gazed ahead and saw that Frank was carefully making his way to the bow trying not to make any sound with each step he took. Joe decided that he would memorize the placement of his brother's footing and mimic those exact steps to join him at the bow.
Once Frank was on the other side, Joe began to carefully cross over to him. One foot after the other, he slowly walked across the floor, endeavoring his ears to listen for creaks the weak boards make under his weight. With a triumphant sigh, he took his last step and crouched next to his brother.
Once seeing him, Frank gave Joe a crooked smile. "What took you so long? Getting sidetracked again, little brother?" he teased.
Joe frowned. "No. I was just trying not to fall through the floor on the way over here. I'm sure Vanessa wouldn't like it very much if my handsome features got scraped up."
Frank shrugged inattentively and waved Joe off. "Shush! Here they come." He pointed to three figures heading toward the end of the dock below. One of the two men grabbed the guy they saw climb out of the custom painted car earlier by the back of the neck and shoved him forward so that he was between the two.
The man who was in charge of the situation abruptly stopped and turned to face his henchman. "Jockey," he commanded.
As fast as lightning, the burly man grabbed the office worker in front of him with a death grip. One hand ripped the briefcase he was holding out of his grasp and tossed it to his boss, while the other hand grabbed the guy's wrists and held them behind his back.
He let out an unguarded cry of pain.
The henchmen then grabbed a fistful of the office worker's hair and yanked it back. At that moment Frank saw a flash of pain sear his face, and realized that the overcome man was no more than his own age!
Once he was sufficiently held down and incapable of moving, the henchman shoved the office worker down to his knees as more of a disadvantage.
The man who was thrown his briefcase stood towering over the office worker with a cynical smile plastered on his face.
"Asshole," the boy hissed.
The man granted him a provoking chuckle as he slowly circled the boy that was brought to his knees. Once facing him again, the man gazed down at him sardonically.
"Well, whadda we have here. Jeffery Ross." The man made a few disapproving clucks with his tongue, and Joe watched as the corners of his mouth began to slightly turn upwards. "You know how long I've been waiting for my money?"
The boy didn't even reply.
"Too long, that's what, Boss."
"Shut up!" He hissed at his henchman, and then gained composure with another evil smile. "Indeed; too long, Mr. Ross. Do you know what I like to do to certain clients when I have to wait for my money?"
The office worker stared at him as if he were the lowliest creature on the face of the earth. "I dunno. Why don't you show me?" he exhorted.
"What did you just say to me, punk?" the boss threatened. Frank knew he felt that he was beginning to lose hold of the situation.
"You heard me."
The boss was suddenly beyond angry, he was furious. His entire face turned red, and it looked as if lava were about to pour out of his ears at any second like a volcano. He raised his hand as if he was about to hit the boy, and Joe and Frank tensed, but instead the man snapped his fingers together.
It seemed in less than a second that Jockey lashed out from his holding position on the boy and swiftly brought his elbow down on his neck. The office worker cried out in pain and fell to the floor. When he tried to get up, the henchman effortlessly picked him up by his shirt collar and raised him to eye level, intimidating his victim, and clearly ready to instill more pain.
Frank and Joe didn't wait another second; they both scrambled to their feet, ready to quickly conduct a strategy before it became too late.
Frank's mind was whirling. His eyes flicked from one corner of the ship to the next, looking for any item that they could use as a weapon. He saw a wrench lying next to a fisherman's rusty bait and tackle box and quickly rushed over to pick it up.
He glanced over at his brother who was tearing up a wooden plank that warped away from the deck and was hanging on by rusted nails, the only thing fastening it to the ship.
Once armed, they both quickly organized a plan before descending down the ladder at which they had just minutes ago climbed up.
Joe was halfway down when Frank grabbed him the hood of his varsity letter jacket. He looked up quizzically at his brother who motioned him to come back up. Joe didn't understand why Frank was telling him to backtrack, but he knew from previous experiences to trust him when it came to brilliant, strategic ideas that seemed to just pop into his head at a whim. Although most of the time Joe thought that it would be better to just jump into a circumstance instead of over-thinking it.
Once he climbed up, Frank pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear, "See that anchor?" He pointed towards the bow of the vessel they were currently standing on.
Joe nodded.
"The odds aren't very great with our going down there into the midst of a fight with poor weapons alone," Frank predicted. "So I think that we should drop the anchor right in front of the henchman when he makes his move to finish the guy off."
Joe nodded, and made a quick glance towards the three figures standing on the dock below him. He tentatively walked over to the edge and ducked low so he couldn't be seen. When Joe looked out at the harbor, he became instantly grim. The henchman was taking his time to efficiently bind the office worker's hands and ankles together with a thick rope until he was, for a better word, hog-tied. Joe then knew the purpose for their meeting at a deserted boat harbor during midnight. They never wanted to negotiate with the young man into getting what they desired, all they wanted was to just simply overcome the office worker with brute force, then drown him in the ocean.
His body would never be found.
Joe slunk over to his brother until he was once again standing in the center of the boat, out of sight. "They're going to drown him," he said gravely.
Frank didn't look the least bit surprised. "Of course they are. That's why we're going to stop it. Now go and stand next to the crank, and when I give you the signal, you're going to drop the anchor, letting it destroy the deck, and taking Jockey with it."
Joe swallowed. Leave it to Frank to come up with a completely unsafe plan that could involve people getting killed. Lucky for him, though, Joe liked danger. "Cool."
"And I," Frank continued, "will wait by the ladder. Then, when the man in charge decides to make a run for it without his bodyguard, I'll go for him."
Joe nodded. "I'll meet you down there, then."
Frank walked off to his post.
Meanwhile, Joe kept his eye on the henchman and his boss as they made their way back to the dock from previously exchanging a few words at the limo. With each step the henchman took, Joe began to feel more and more anxious. Finally, with what felt like a millennium, Jockey stepped slightly into the target, and without delay Joe immediately went into action reeling the crank in a fast, pivotal motion.
It was cold out, due to it being the second week January, and on top of that, he couldn't feel his hands. With every movement created friction, and Joe began to feel an aggravating, sharp pain shoot up his forearm. He cringed, but managed to tighten his grip, which made his biceps scream with pain.
To his relief, Joe eventually heard the satisfactory sound of wood splintering as the anchor smashed through the deck, followed by a surprised cry from Jockey, and then a thunderous splash into the sea.
Guess I caught him off guard, Joe mused.
He glanced over to his right and down at Frank, who had already bounded down the ladder for a surprise attack. Joe smiled, and picked up his board, ready to lend a hand.
