"Wait!" ordered a man Joe hadn't seen before. He stepped out from behind Hairy.
"Why?" Hash demanded, his eyes locked on Joe's. "Neither of his folks are in the government." This comment struck Joe as odd, but he remained silent.
"No, but he is Fenton Hardy's son," came the reply.
"What?" Hash demanded, his tone carrying an undercurrent of hatred as his eyes hardened. "This kid don't look anything like Hardy."
"Maybe he takes after his mother," said Hairy.
"His name is Joe Hardy and his paper lists his parents, Fenton and Laura Hardy, as the people to be contacted in case of an emergency," said the man who had told Hash to wait.
Joe got a good look at him as he came closer. He was equal to Joe's own six feet and had black hair which was starting to gray at the temples. He wore glasses, but Joe could still see the shrewd look in his dark eyes as the light from the Hairy's flashlight danced around his face.
"Another reason to kill him," Hash insisted.
"We need him," the man insisted.
"Forget it, Dobson," Hash told him. "He dies. He'll be more trouble than he's worth."
"Look at this first," Dobson said, going to stand beside Hash. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Hash. "Read it," he urged.
Hash frowned, but lowered his gun and took the envelope. Joe's eyes flashed angrily as he saw his brother's handwriting on the front. "That's mine!" Joe snarled angrily.
"Of course it is," Dobson said, flashing Joe a toothy grin. "We've been monitoring all of your communication."
Joe's eyes narrowed on the man. He stood still, his anger giving him the needed strength to continue holding Steve.
"Hardy's coming here?" Hash erupted, looking up from the letter to Dobson. "That's not good."
"He won't come if Joe sends his brother a letter," Dobson told him.
"Forget that!" Joe shouted.
"Oh, you'll write one," Dobson assurred him. "Unless you want to be responsible for your friend's death."
"What?" Joe asked, his face going white.
"I'm going to compose a letter and you are going to copy it word for word or that burden you're carrying will be dead weight," Dobson stated, his eyes on Steve.
Joe was forced to tug Steve back through the entrance to the cave and then carry him back to the cavern. Once there, Joe and Steve were bound and gagged and left in the darkness of one corner while the four men gathered together with two lanterns in a different one.
Joe tried to work his hands free but to no avail. He heard them muttering and finally one held up a sheet of paper. "How does this sound?" he asked.
"No good, Lane," Hairy said to the man who Joe had not associated with a name yet. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was of medium height and build. The guy had been too average to stick a misnomer on, so Joe was glad he now knew what to call him.
"He's right," Dobson agreed. "If he is suppossed to not have written because he fell for some girl, the girl needs to be more prominent. Let me try," he added, taking the pen and paper from Lane and beginning to write.
When Dobson finished, he let the other three men read the letter. After a brief conversation, Hairy got up and went to get Joe. He carried him over to the others and put him down. His hands were then untied and a pen thrust at him.
Dobson picked up the notebook they had been using and flipped several sheets over. Joe suspected he did this to prevent any of their handwriting impressions on the sheet he was suppossed to write on. Then Dobson gave him the notebook and the letter he had composed. "Remember kid," Dobson warned. "Word for word or your buddy over there dies."
Joe took the notepad and laid it down, sighing in defeat. He couldn't let them kill Steve because of him. He looked at the first sheet, his right hand ready to start the letter, then paused and looked up at Dobson who seemed to be running the show.
"Why did you grab Steve in the first place?" Joe asked.
"None of your business," Lane answered ofr Dobson. "But suffice it to say, he's served his purpose and we no longer have a need for him."
"Except to make me write this letter," Joe said dully. "Then you will eliminate us both."
"No," Dobson told him. "Your usefulness is just beginning. As long as you do as you are told, you and your pal here, live."
"And how long will my usefulness last?" Joe demanded, knowing he and Steve would die then.
"That depends on your brother's letters," Dobson replied truthfully. "Now, write."
Joe bit his bottom lip and started copying the letter. Had it only been himself, he thought, he wouldn't do this. He kept writing. As he neared the end of the letter, his heart gave a leap of joy. Frank must have asked for a letter instead of a postcard which could only mean one thing. Frank suspected he was in trouble.
Joe used every ounce of self control he possessed not to let the men see his sudden change in attitude. But he couldn't hide the gleam in his eyes as he thought about how they would feel if they knew they were actually letting Frank know he needed help. Joe was immensely grateful the cave was dark and the lanterns didn't provide enough light to give him away.
"Satisfied?" Joe snarled, throwing the pen down and glaring up at Dobson.
Hash picked up the notebook and read what Joe had written. "Good boy," he congratulated Joe, running a hand through Joe's blond locks.
Joe moved his head away form Hash's hand, but reallizing Joe didn't like it, Hash messed Joe's hair again. "Tie him back up," Lane ordered.
Hairy hauled Joe up and back over to where Steve lay, now wide awake. Hairy tied Joe's hands behind his back. "The other one's awake now," he said loud enough for the others to hear him.
"Good timing," Hash said. "We'll feed them both now."
Joe saw Steve grimace at the mention of food and his eyes crinkled in curiosity. "I'm not hungry," Joe told Hairy. Ignoring him, Hairy stood up and went back to the others. Half an hour later, Hairy and Lane came over, each holding a plate of beans and a tin cup.
"I'm not hungry," Joe insisted as Hairy raised a spoon to Joe's mouth.
"Eat up, kid," Hairy insisted, putting the spoon to Joe's lips just after Joe had clamped his mouth shut. "You won't be getting anything else until tomorrow."
"Might as well," Steve told Joe once his gag had been removed. "After we eat, we'll sleep and then it's time to be fed again."
Joe glanced over at the bitterness in Steve's voice. "We're nothing more than caged animals to these guys," Steve added.
Joe opened his mouth and ate the beans. 'Dangerous caged animals,' he thought,
"Why?" Hash demanded, his eyes locked on Joe's. "Neither of his folks are in the government." This comment struck Joe as odd, but he remained silent.
"No, but he is Fenton Hardy's son," came the reply.
"What?" Hash demanded, his tone carrying an undercurrent of hatred as his eyes hardened. "This kid don't look anything like Hardy."
"Maybe he takes after his mother," said Hairy.
"His name is Joe Hardy and his paper lists his parents, Fenton and Laura Hardy, as the people to be contacted in case of an emergency," said the man who had told Hash to wait.
Joe got a good look at him as he came closer. He was equal to Joe's own six feet and had black hair which was starting to gray at the temples. He wore glasses, but Joe could still see the shrewd look in his dark eyes as the light from the Hairy's flashlight danced around his face.
"Another reason to kill him," Hash insisted.
"We need him," the man insisted.
"Forget it, Dobson," Hash told him. "He dies. He'll be more trouble than he's worth."
"Look at this first," Dobson said, going to stand beside Hash. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Hash. "Read it," he urged.
Hash frowned, but lowered his gun and took the envelope. Joe's eyes flashed angrily as he saw his brother's handwriting on the front. "That's mine!" Joe snarled angrily.
"Of course it is," Dobson said, flashing Joe a toothy grin. "We've been monitoring all of your communication."
Joe's eyes narrowed on the man. He stood still, his anger giving him the needed strength to continue holding Steve.
"Hardy's coming here?" Hash erupted, looking up from the letter to Dobson. "That's not good."
"He won't come if Joe sends his brother a letter," Dobson told him.
"Forget that!" Joe shouted.
"Oh, you'll write one," Dobson assurred him. "Unless you want to be responsible for your friend's death."
"What?" Joe asked, his face going white.
"I'm going to compose a letter and you are going to copy it word for word or that burden you're carrying will be dead weight," Dobson stated, his eyes on Steve.
Joe was forced to tug Steve back through the entrance to the cave and then carry him back to the cavern. Once there, Joe and Steve were bound and gagged and left in the darkness of one corner while the four men gathered together with two lanterns in a different one.
Joe tried to work his hands free but to no avail. He heard them muttering and finally one held up a sheet of paper. "How does this sound?" he asked.
"No good, Lane," Hairy said to the man who Joe had not associated with a name yet. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was of medium height and build. The guy had been too average to stick a misnomer on, so Joe was glad he now knew what to call him.
"He's right," Dobson agreed. "If he is suppossed to not have written because he fell for some girl, the girl needs to be more prominent. Let me try," he added, taking the pen and paper from Lane and beginning to write.
When Dobson finished, he let the other three men read the letter. After a brief conversation, Hairy got up and went to get Joe. He carried him over to the others and put him down. His hands were then untied and a pen thrust at him.
Dobson picked up the notebook they had been using and flipped several sheets over. Joe suspected he did this to prevent any of their handwriting impressions on the sheet he was suppossed to write on. Then Dobson gave him the notebook and the letter he had composed. "Remember kid," Dobson warned. "Word for word or your buddy over there dies."
Joe took the notepad and laid it down, sighing in defeat. He couldn't let them kill Steve because of him. He looked at the first sheet, his right hand ready to start the letter, then paused and looked up at Dobson who seemed to be running the show.
"Why did you grab Steve in the first place?" Joe asked.
"None of your business," Lane answered ofr Dobson. "But suffice it to say, he's served his purpose and we no longer have a need for him."
"Except to make me write this letter," Joe said dully. "Then you will eliminate us both."
"No," Dobson told him. "Your usefulness is just beginning. As long as you do as you are told, you and your pal here, live."
"And how long will my usefulness last?" Joe demanded, knowing he and Steve would die then.
"That depends on your brother's letters," Dobson replied truthfully. "Now, write."
Joe bit his bottom lip and started copying the letter. Had it only been himself, he thought, he wouldn't do this. He kept writing. As he neared the end of the letter, his heart gave a leap of joy. Frank must have asked for a letter instead of a postcard which could only mean one thing. Frank suspected he was in trouble.
Joe used every ounce of self control he possessed not to let the men see his sudden change in attitude. But he couldn't hide the gleam in his eyes as he thought about how they would feel if they knew they were actually letting Frank know he needed help. Joe was immensely grateful the cave was dark and the lanterns didn't provide enough light to give him away.
"Satisfied?" Joe snarled, throwing the pen down and glaring up at Dobson.
Hash picked up the notebook and read what Joe had written. "Good boy," he congratulated Joe, running a hand through Joe's blond locks.
Joe moved his head away form Hash's hand, but reallizing Joe didn't like it, Hash messed Joe's hair again. "Tie him back up," Lane ordered.
Hairy hauled Joe up and back over to where Steve lay, now wide awake. Hairy tied Joe's hands behind his back. "The other one's awake now," he said loud enough for the others to hear him.
"Good timing," Hash said. "We'll feed them both now."
Joe saw Steve grimace at the mention of food and his eyes crinkled in curiosity. "I'm not hungry," Joe told Hairy. Ignoring him, Hairy stood up and went back to the others. Half an hour later, Hairy and Lane came over, each holding a plate of beans and a tin cup.
"I'm not hungry," Joe insisted as Hairy raised a spoon to Joe's mouth.
"Eat up, kid," Hairy insisted, putting the spoon to Joe's lips just after Joe had clamped his mouth shut. "You won't be getting anything else until tomorrow."
"Might as well," Steve told Joe once his gag had been removed. "After we eat, we'll sleep and then it's time to be fed again."
Joe glanced over at the bitterness in Steve's voice. "We're nothing more than caged animals to these guys," Steve added.
Joe opened his mouth and ate the beans. 'Dangerous caged animals,' he thought,