Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.
Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.
Author's Notes: Joe and Frank chapter. Almost together... Thanks again for all the reviews. I really do read them. :-)
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dominic Laird had been very disgruntled as he settled into bed that evening. His first day on the hunt and the trail had been lost immediately when they came upon the stream. Perhaps he needed to invest in some blood hounds as Hans and Greta didn't seem to be able to find the Hardy boy very well. Dominic conveniently forgot that the dogs had found him when he had be confined to high land at the other estate and that they had found other subjects he had hunted. No, he didn't like to think that Joe was that smart and capable. He had been further irritated when he got George to confirm through GPS that the boy was still in the boundaries of the estate.
So it was with irritation still in the forefront of his mind that he answered the phone when it rang at 5:47 a.m. "What is it?" he barked into the phone disregarding a civil greeting. The sleep disappeared from his eyes and he sat straight up in the bed. "How long?" A moment's pause then, "Make the necessary transfer and ready the passports." Laird then hung up without saying anything else. Throwing off the covers and swinging his legs from the bed, he grabbed his cell phone and sent a message to George.
Moments later, a sleepy George was standing in the doorway as Laird was pulling on a pair of pants. "What is it, Mr. Laird? Is everything all right?"
"Damn it! It is not all right!" Laird's voice then changed to a mutter as the last vestiges of George's sleep dropped away. "It's all because of that boy!"
"Mr. Laird?"
Rounding on George, Laird seemed to gather himself. "I've had a call from someone who watches over my estates and accounts. They keep an eye out for anyone doing any… investigating or probing."
"And there's been some? Probing I mean?" George asked with concern.
"More than probing, George. The FBI is at the North Carolina estate. They're tracking my expenses and locating other properties."
George's face paled. "What are we going to do?"
"My man is gathering my assets and getting the fake IDs and passports I have for all the staff. We'll be going out of the country for the time being. In different directions."
Nodding his acceptance, George said, "I'll lay low."
"Indeed," Laird said. In fact, he planned to kill George before leaving the estate. With George and the other staff dead, he would have less worries about being tracked through their information. "But first we have a loose end to tie up."
"The boy," George said softly.
Laird nodded. "Be ready in fifteen minutes. Bring the tablet and the dogs so we can track him. We'll take the ATVs as far as we can." Dominic then went back to getting ready, trusting George to do as he was told.
It was with a heavy heart that George went to get ready; he knew exactly how Laird would tie up the loose end that was Joe Hardy. The boy had been right. He should have helped him before… but maybe he still could.
.**********.
Joe awoke to aches and pains that came from sleeping on the cold hard ground. It was surprising he slept at all with the pain in his leg. Finding it impossible to stretch in his cramped space, he pushed the protective branches away and drug himself from the alcove. Stiffness made moving difficult and it took a couple of minutes before he could haul himself up to an upright position using his crutch. Gritting his teeth, he moved to a nearby rock where he sat and ate the granola bar he had saved from yesterday and some water from his canteen.
Looking up through the canopy, he could barely see the color change indicating dawn. It was time to start moving if he wanted to see where this stream ended on the property. Joe assumed that the fencing would be similar to that of the southern location, but perhaps not. Maybe this would be something he could work with. Pulling on his still damp socks and shoes, he began his trek to find the end of the stream.
According to the map, it would be about two miles to the boundary. It amazed Joe that Laird owned such vast amounts of property. Normally he could have covered this ground at a brisk walk in about thirty minutes. It took him close to an hour over the uneven terrain with his crutch and injured leg. He had to stop a couple of times to rest his leg in the stream and he grimaced over having to do it. He shook his head at himself, imagining what penalty he would suffer this time. There was little doubt in his mind that he would be caught before the seven days concluded. Of course he would try to evade, but Laird hadn't given him much of a chance with the terrain and his bum leg.
As he sat on a rock in the edge of the stream, he noticed that the breeze had picked up. Standing up and leaning on his crutch, he looked in the direction of the stream and thought he saw more sky than he had been seeing. Curiosity and a touch of hope welled up inside him as he started moving once again with the stream. The breeze grew stronger and he heard sounds that were familiar… water crashing on a beach. In less than fifteen minutes he was standing on a pebble and rock beach littered with driftwood and large boulders. The dark blue water with frothy tops crashed upon the shore in a rhythmic pattern. The water stretched out before him as far as his eye could see until it met the cloudless blue of the open sky at the horizon.
Dropping his crutch, Joe sank to his knees. It was one of the Great Lakes… Which one? he asked himself. Then he realized it didn't matter, he just needed to keep walking along the beach in one direction or the other. There could be no fence that would keep him in this time. Even if it went into the water, he could swim around it. Staggering to his feet and turning to the east, he moved at a fast clip. The beach was fairly even and uniform due to the erosion of the crashing waves upon the beach and he could make good time. Joe's mind was going at a feverish pace. This was why he was wearing the bracelet. They knew they had to be able to track him if he made it out to the beach.
He stopped and looked at the bracelet. He had to get it off. Joe's eyes searched the beach and came to rest on a boulder up ahead. Hurrying with his crutch to the boulder, he gently placed the crutch against the rock and pulled out the knife. The knife sawed through part of the bracelet but not the wire that went through its center. Joe then carefully tried to cut through the closure but he had to be careful or he'd slit his own wrist. After several minutes of frustration and nicking his arm, he gave up. Putting away the knife, he bent down and picked up a baseball-sized rock. Placing his wrist against the boulder, he slid the bracelet as high on his arm as he could and then brought the rock down with as much force as he could on the thickest part of the bracelet. Joe let out an involuntary cry of pain and let the wash of white heat pass over him as he worked to control his rapid breathing. The bracelet had been cracked open where he hit it and some circuitry was exposed. Gritting his teeth, he brought the rock down on the bracelet one more time. This time he was able to hold in his cry of pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the circuitry now appeared mangled and more was exposed. Joe stepped unsteadily away from the rock and went to the water and let the incoming wave wash up and over his hand and the bracelet. The coldness of the water was startling and felt good to his wrist and his leg that was also in the water.
He moved quickly back to get his crutch and continue to the east along the beach. The rocks and the coldness of the water made him wonder if he was somewhere along Lake Superior. If he was, then he could have a very long walk to find civilization. But he wouldn't be discouraged yet. He had a chance - the best chance since he went under that flood gate. And he was going to take it.
.**********.
Laird stopped his ATV and let out a string of curses.
George pulled up beside him and asked, "What's wrong?"
Laird looked at the tablet one more time. "The signal's gone. He's found a way to disable it." A few more curses flew from Laird's lips.
Earlier, George had hoped to mislead Laird while they were tracking Joe, but Laird had insisted on taking the tablet himself. George thought about knocking Laird out and just leaving the area with him, but he had been afraid to do it. He needed to stay on Laird's good side in case he needed more money for Olivia's treatment. Now, with the signal disabled, he let out a deep sigh of relief. They'd turn around now and leave. It was the best situation he could hope for. Joe would be found and he and Laird would make their way out of the country. Laird's next words burst George's bubble of contentment.
"I know he's on the beach and he was headed east. He'll stay on the beach because he thinks he can escape," Laird said angrily. The boy was smart and if they weren't tracking him, he probably would have escaped. "Let's go. We don't have time to waste. The sooner we get rid of Joseph, the sooner we can leave." With that, Laird put his ATV in motion and passed George.
Whistling to the dogs, George followed his boss along the path to the lake.
.*********.
The FBI team went into the nicely appointed lodge house in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. It was a property of Dominic Laird under a different name. It had taken them some time to find it, but now they were here. The team apprehended two of Laird's staff who were obviously packing up to leave. They claimed to not know where Dominic Laird, George Rand, and Joe Hardy were. For the moment, they were still in fear of their employer and refusing to say anything.
Fenton and Frank were just brought up to the house when an agent called out that it appeared that some vehicles, perhaps ATVs were missing. It was at that time that the staff in the house finally understood that it was in their best interest to cooperate and assist the FBI before something happened to Joe Hardy.
The FBI brought in several ATVs and off-road bikes. Agents Gilroy and Stevenson each had one and told Fenton and Frank that they would call them when they had apprehended the subjects.
Fenton went to object when Frank gently took his arm and shook his head no. This caught Fenton's attention because he knew that Frank wanted to be there when they found Joe as much as he did. He remained quiet as the team headed out down a nearby path while other agents continued to look for clues on the grounds.
Frank nodded his head to the side where a small motor home was stored under a shelter. Also under the shelter was an ATV. The two moved over to the ATV and Frank said, "Looks like this is where Laird and Rand took their ATVs from." There was space for at least two other vehicles. "Glad they left us one." Frank turned to watch the agents as they moved about while Fenton went to work hot-wiring the vehicle. In moments it was running and Frank hopped on in the driver's seat. Fenton didn't complain but held on to his son as they took off down the path with calls from the FBI to stop. There was no stopping them and the FBI didn't have the vehicles to come after them… they were all in front of them.
.*********.
The sounds of ATVs came echoing to Joe from the beach in front of him. He moved as fast as he could into the trees at the edge of the beach. Unfortunately, the beach was rather wide due to the powerful forces of the lake. He knew they had spotted him and they must know about the bracelet. That had to be why they had come on the ATVs. Moving at a speed he couldn't maintain, Joe fell as he neared the tree line. Leaving his crutch, he struggled to his feet and began hobbling as quickly as he could toward the uncertainty of the trees. A shot cracked the air and Joe heard Laird's voice from behind him.
"Stop there, Joseph or the next one will be in your back."
Somehow the man's voice carried over the crashing waves. But then Joe turned and saw how close that Laird and George were with the dogs running up to them on the beach.
Laird walked so that he was ten yards from Joe and stopped. George and dogs were moving up behind him. Dominic smiled at Joe and said, "I'm sorry but we're going to have to end the hunt early. It seems that we've been found." His smile changed to an angry grimace. "I can only assume it is from something you managed to get to them before I got you. Either that or your family."
Joe's heart raced… my family. Have they really found me? Am I going to die now before they can save me?
Laird pulled another pistol from a side holster and checked the safety. He then tossed it to just a yard or two in front of Joe. "Go ahead, Joseph. Pick it up."
Joe looked at the gun and then back to Laird and shook his head no.
Laird raised the gun and pointed it at Joe. "Pick it up or I'll shoot you where you stand."
Joe could see that Laird meant it. Carefully, he edged painfully forward and bent to pick up the gun and step back.
"Take the safety off, Joseph."
"Why?"
Smiling again, Laird lowered the gun. "Because on the count of three, we're going to fire at each other. Just like in the duels of old."
"No. I won't." Joe said.
"Then you'll die."
Closing his eyes for a moment, Joe drew a deep breath and then opened them. Clicking the safety off, he faced Laird.
"Thank you, Joseph. Now on the count of three, we raise the guns and fire. Can you do it, Joseph? Can you kill a man in cold blood? If you can, George will let you walk out of here. If not, then you'll die by my hand." Laird didn't wait for a response but began his count.
"One. Two. Three."
Joe raise his pistol in both hands at the same time as Laird. Pointing it at Laird, he fired…
There was a click. Laird laughed mercilessly as Joe dropped the empty weapon from his hands. "I do believe you aimed to kill. Even though I know your family detests the use of guns, I can see that you have been trained to use them." He cocked his head to the side as he raised his own pistol. "It's a shame that one wasn't loaded. I can promise you this one is." With those final words, Laird lined up his target.