The Hardy Boys and the Skulls Head
By Winterslily
Chapter 1 – The Skull's Head
Stretching as far as the narrow airline foot room would allow, Frank Hardy rubbed at his eyes as he stared out of the window beside his seat and watched the darkness below and above, surrounding them in a cocoon of solitude. The airliner, flying from New York's Kennedy Airport to London's Heathrow, was about halfway through a nine-hour flight and, for Frank who had the beginnings of a headache, it couldn't happen too soon. The tall, dark-haired young man stared over at the seat next to him where his brother sat. Blonde-haired Joe was leaning aback, mouth half open and snoring gently as he slept. Frank sighed, wishing he had the ability to fall asleep anywhere like that. Joe could – and had – slept just about anywhere.
Turning his attention back to his paperwork, Frank sighed again as he peered out the window, thinking of the phone call he had received from his friend, David Pembroke, now a rookie with Scotland Yard in the United Kingdom. Frank remembered fondly their meeting – namely at a chess camp when Frank was fourteen and David was sixteen. They got on right away, sharing one of the small rooms at the camp and talking over many games of chess played. It was the first time Frank was away from home – or rather away from Joe – and it was nice to meet someone right away who could sort of fill the void left by Joe's absence.
They kept in touch via email after leaving camp and even visited together twice – once when Frank was in London with his father on a case and once when David was visiting the States on vacation. David knew that Frank and Joe loved solving mysteries – either on their own or with their private detective father, Fenton Hardy; it was why Frank now sat on an airplane, waiting impatiently for the trip to end and the mystery to begin. David sounded anxious on the phone when he called, begging Frank and Joe to come over and help him.
"I'm not getting any help at all from the higher-ups. They think I've gone starkers, Frank – and I haven't! I know there's a pattern here, something going on but even the people who signed off on the initial reports remember nothing – or claim to remember nothing – about the events that happened! It's either a major cover-up or something more sinister is going on. That's why I called you guys to see if you can help. There's something going on here and you're the best, right?"
Frank had demurred and said they did what they could but he didn't know about being the best, despite their reputation of being tough crime-fighters. David sent him an envelope via express mail only the next day and Frank and Joe poured over the information within, both reports and photographs that hearkened something dark and very ominous.
Frank stared at the pictures now. The most threatening was the odd skull and snake feature – a skulls head with a snake coming out of the mouth. The whole thing was a sort of odd green color, almost glowing and positioned on a wall over the heads of three victims, a man, woman and young girl. The two adults looked peaceful and calm, as if they died in their sleep. The little girl's face was fixed in pain and agony and terror, eyes still wide as if she died of fear – or pain? There were no visible wounds on her that he could see in the pictures provided, just that expression of pain.
It wasn't the only picture like that. There were at least six others with the same skull and snake motif and victims – all dead – many with that peaceful expression and many with that same stark terror and pain written on their faces. A few were lashed obviously and one scene was bloody, as if someone took great pleasure in cutting up their victims of the crime.
"Gruesome," Joe said softly from Frank's left and Frank looked up in shock at his brother, then calmed again. "I mean, look at it. Who could do that kind of thing? If it weren't for that skull thing, I'd think that was a different killer – why change their method so suddenly like that?"
Frank shrugged, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the passengers sleeping around them. "No idea. Like I said before, this doesn't make sense. If there are serial killers out there, why hasn't it made the papers or the news? You would think they'd want people to do everything they can to stay safe; instead it's getting covered up and hidden!"
"David's right," Joe said. "There's something fishy going on; we just have to figure out what it is and why. What if there are scenes they haven't even found yet? Especially if different police stations are covering it?"
Frank nodded in agreement. "We'll ask David when we get to London. What do you think that skull and snake represent? A cult? One killer or several working together? And how is it these people are dead? Poison?"
Joe shrugged. "We covered all this in Bayport. We won't know until we get to London. Why don't you try to sleep?"
"You know I can't sleep on planes," Frank retorted as he leaned back in his seat again. "Stupid planes."
Joe laughed and settled back; he was snoring before Frank had the pictures put away.
"Terra firma," Frank sighed with happiness as he stepped off of the gateway and looked around the terminal. "Thank goodness."
He was about to say something else when he heard a voice calling his name and he turned to see David walking toward them, Scotland Yard ID flapping off the front of his long rain jacket.
"David!" Frank said. "Good to see you."
"Hi, Frank," David said. "Good to be seen. Joe. How are you?"
"In one piece," Joe grinned. "Come on, let's go get our bags. Is it raining again?"
"Of course," David laughed. "You expected good weather?"
"Hoped," Joe stated calmly. "Hoped for good weather. Bayport is right in the middle of 'if you don't like the weather, wait a minute' season. We had snow last week, sunshine and 80s through the weekend and yesterday and today it rained and was about 50."
"Well, we've got one better then," David led the way to the baggage claim. "Rainy and rainy. You can pretty much bet the bank on it."
Joe snickered knowingly. "Okay. Rainy and Rainy is it?"
"T'is," agreed David. "T'is indeed."
They gathered their bags from the baggage claim and followed David out to the parking lot and climbing into a small Toyota. Frank claimed the passenger side front seat since he was a full inch taller than his younger brother and deserved more legroom. David, at a mere five foot seven, moved his seat up a bit, allowing Joe a bit more legroom and started forward.
"We had another one last night," David said. "Joe, can you hand up that envelope in the back? I shouldn't have these pictures but once again I asked around this morning about this and nobody would say anything – and when I showed the Inspector in charge the pictures he asked me if this was an elaborate April Fools Joke two months late? I told him he was the one that signed off on the reports and he claimed to have done no such thing. In fact, he threw the whole lot into the rubbish bin and told me not to bother him again!"
Frank frowned. "He destroyed evidence?"
"Yeah," David turned on his blinker. "He did. I got this out later, after he left for the night, just before the cleaners took the rubbish out. There's a bit more on this one. Look."
Frank went through the pictures and stopped when he got one that had words on it, printed words.
"Give Harry Potter to me or more muggles will die. Lord Voldemort commands it!" Frank read out loud. "Who is Harry Potter?"
David shrugged. "No idea," he said. "But whomever he is… well, he's obviously in big trouble."
"And what is a Lord Voldemort? Is he for real? You think he's your serial killer?" Joe asked the British officer as he peered over at the pictures Frank held in his hands. Another family, this one with five people – all dead.
"The best I can tell, he's a terrorist," David said. "I found references to him from the 70s, back then they were having the same problems but nobody ever solved those crimes that I know of. Instead the crime spree just stopped – and now it's started again. There weren't any notes found at any of the crime scenes in the 70s, however, and definitely nothing about a Harry Potter."
Frank frowned again, thinking as he studied the picture in front of him.
"Well," he said softly. "I think maybe that's our first two things we should do. Figure out who Harry Potter is – and who Lord Voldemort is. Hopefully we can get our answers from there and get you some definite proof to bring to your bosses."
"You guys mind staying with me?" David asked. "My flat's not that big but I have a guest room with two twin beds, if that's okay."
"Sure," Frank agreed. "Sounds fine to me."
"Me too," Joe nodded.
"Good," David relaxed back in his seat slightly and Frank peered at the note again.
Give Harry Potter to me more muggles will die, he thought and, on that, he had another thought.
"David?" he asked. "What in the world is a muggle?"