Three days went by. For Frank and Joe, these days were the longest of their lives. Someone came down twice each day with a tray of food; sometimes sandwiches and water, sometimes something from some cheap fast food place or another. It wasn't really enough for two boys their age, but at least they weren't being starved.
At the end of the first day, Joe, kicked the door as hard as he could for several minutes, until Greasy-Hair threw it open and snarled at him to knock it off. Joe recoiled a step at the man's upraised fist, but he still said what was on his mind: he needed to pee.
Greasy-Hair slammed and locked the door, leaving Joe thinking that his comment had been ignored, but five minutes later the man opened the door again and stood there while Jake brought a heavy-duty bucket down to the basement. He put it in the corner, glared at the boys, then left once more.
Joe wrinkled his nose at the thought of using it, but he urinated into it, anyway. Frank had also made use of it before the night was over. The two boys did not sleep until they were too tired to remain awake, and ended up curled up next to each other under the wooden stairs.
After that, it was a mix of boredom, anger, and fear, all alternating. Joe had gotten into the habit of kicking the door when he wanted to annoy their captors, and usually got someone to either pound on the door and threaten him, or open the door and snarl at him to be quiet. So far as the boys could tell, there was someone there all the time. Mostly it was the two men, Jake and Greasy-Hair, but sometimes they saw a woman that looked about their father's age.
But aside from mealtimes, and the times someone came in to threaten them, the boys saw no one but each other. After a while, Joe stopped antagonizing them, after Frank mentioned the possibility of them actually carrying out their threats. Joe did not think that being dumped in the river would be a fantastic end to this misadventure.
Sometimes the boys would play little word games to relieve the awful boredom, but that got old after a while, especially with Joe being as hyperactive as he was. The younger Hardy brother was going nearly insane from being cooped up, and Frank wasn't entirely thrilled about it, either. "They could at least give us some books or something," he grumped halfway through the second day.
At least they were being allowed to call their parents, one at a time. Frank heard, one time while being brought up for the phone call, something about a tracing system. Jake was telling Fenton that he knew he'd gotten the cops involved, and were trying to trace, and because of that would not let the boys talk for more than thirty seconds or so. He hung up the phone between conversations, and only let one of the brothers up at once. Besides ensuring that the call didn't get traced, it discouraged whoever they brought up from trying to run, as he would have to leave the other behind if he did.
Mostly, the boys were simply held in the basement, with little to do. They had the light, but that was about it; although Greasy-Hair seemed to like to turn it off whenever he left the basement, which was highly annoying. Joe usually ran upstairs and turned it back on, scowling angrily at the door.
As the third day began to drone on, Frank and Joe Hardy were going stir crazy. They were actually looking forward to mealtimes, if only because it was a break in the monotony. Their conversations with their father (and sometimes their mother) ended up being the highlight of the day.
After today's phone call, Frank was actually crying quietly. Joe looked at him, a little shocked. It wasn't as if he had never seen Frank cry before, but it was not a common occurrence; Joe usually was the one who cried. "A-are you okay?" he asked after a moment, somewhat alarmed. "They didn't hit you or anything did they?"
Frank sniffed and got some Kleenex from beside the toilet - they had convinced their captors to give them something to wipe themselves with – and blew his nose. "I just - I miss Mom and Dad. And I wanna go home." He scowled and wiped his eyes with his dirty hands. They had not been given a chance to bathe in any way, shape or form, and both brother were quite dirty by that point. The basement wasn't exactly clean.
"Yeah." Now that Frank had mentioned it, Joe felt like crying, too. And then he glowered instead. "I wonder if Dad knows where we are, yet."
"Of course not, or he'd be here beating the bad guys up," Frank said, as if this were the most logical thing in the world to think.
"Oh, yeah I guess so," Joe said sullenly.
Frank sighed, and then looked around the dismal little basement for what seemed like the thousandth time. Then he frowned. "Joe, is that a window up there?"
Joe looked up, noticing a wide indentation in the thick wall, where a narrow basement window might be. "Maybe," he said, walking until he stood right below it. "But they painted it, or something."
"You think we could fit through it?"
Joe blinked. "Maybe, but how would we get it open? There isn't anything to stand on, and I can't reach it."
"Me neither, we'd have to stand, one of us stand on the other's shoulders. But if we could get it open -" Frank pitched his voice lower than it had been, almost to a whisper. "We could get out and call Dad, and tell him where we are."
Joe looked excited at the idea. "Yeah!" he whispered. "That'd show them, if we escaped! Let's do it!"
Frank nodded, also looking eager, the tears forgotten on his face. "Okay, you're smaller, you climb up first," Frank said, crouching down. "Wait, take your shoes off first, though." Joe nodded and sat down, pulling his sneakers off. Then he climbed up onto Frank's back, and then began the laborious job of climbing up onto his shoulders. Joe shook with unsteadiness as he tried to balance on Frank's shoulders, but he did manage not to fall as he inspected the window. Trying not to be too noisy, he tapped it, scratched at the paint, and felt all around it, trying to find how it opened. He did discover a handle at the top that was painted solidly to the window frame, and he could not pry it loose. He made a noise of frustration, and slammed his hands into the glass.
Below, Frank winced at the noise. "Get down!" he hissed to his brother.
Joe frowned, but jumped down from Frank's shoulders. They both heard the door lock being clicked, and ran to the opposite side of the basement. Frank sank down against the wall and tried to look nonchalant, and Joe stood with his arms crossed, scowling at the door.
The woman opened it, and peered inside. "What are you two doing in here?" she demanded.
"Nothing," Joe said, his tone sulky. "Leave us alone."
The woman looked hard at him for a moment, then glanced around the room. Seeing nothing amiss, she gave Joe a dark look and closed the door again. The lock clicked closed, and both boys breathed a sigh of relief.
"Way to go," Frank said, giving Joe a mildly baleful look.
"Well, I got mad," the younger boy said by way of defense. "Let's try it again, I won't hit it anymore."
Frank nodded, and stood up. "Okay."
Again, it took a little while for Frank and Joe to get themselves in position; Frank could not help as much as he would normally be able to, because of his sprained wrist. But finally Joe made it onto his shoulders once more. He tried and tried to get something loose so that he could pry the window open, but he had little luck. He had to get down and the boys had to rest three times before Joe started to cry in sheer frustration. "There's a stupid window we could get out of!" he fumed. "But I can't get the stupid thing open!" He clenched his fists angrily.
"Shhh!" Frank said, glancing at the door. He sat down, looking wearied by holding his brother up for so long a time. "We'll get it, we just need...we need something to scrape all that paint off, at least around the edges."
"Yeah, I think it's got, I dunno, caulk, or glue, or something holding the handle in. But we don't have anything to scrape it with!"
The escape talk came to a stop when they heard the lock click once more. Jake was there with the boys' second meal. That meant that it was nearly nighttime, so far as the boys could tell. The man set the tray on the top step, and then left without a word.
Frank went up and grabbed the tray, but then winced as a pang went through his wrist, and he growled. He balanced one side of the tray on his arm, while his uninjured hand held the other side. He was very hungry, though, and he picked up one of the two hamburgers that were on the tray.
As he and Joe ate, Frank thought. There was absolutely nothing in the little basement that they could use to pry the window open, but surely there was some way?
Joe wolfed his food, as usual, and downed the soda that he had been given. He would have loved to have some milk, but all they had been given was either water or soda. He scratched an itch on his head, then sighed and leaned against the support pole. "I wanna go home," he whispered plaintively.
"Yeah, I know," Frank said, putting an arm briefly around him. Then he finished eating, and pushed the tray away from him. He never thought he would admit it, but he was really wanting to take a bath. He stared at his feet for a few moments, brooding, but then he frowned. "Hey..." He took one of his sandals off and examined it. "Hey, I found something to scrape the paint and stuff off!"
"Yeah?" Joe looked interestedly at the sandal, and his expression fell. "The buckle?" he said, looking at it with disbelief. "That'd take forever!"
"Yeah, but at least it could work! Come on, Joe, we gotta at least try it!"
Joe sighed, but nodded. "Okay, let's try it."
Frank worked the buckle off of his sandal, and handed it to Joe. Then he helped the younger boy get back up onto his shoulders. Man, I'm gonna be sore, Frank thought.
Joe, buckle in hand, contemplated the window. With a shrug, he began scraping at the paint and caulk that held the window shut. The handle, first.
Joe kept this up for several minutes, until his fingers started cramping up. He winced, and stopped. "Frank I gotta get down for a minute," he said.
"Okay. You want me to try it next time?"
Joe thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. My fingers are all sore." Joe hopped down, stumbled, steadied himself, then handed the buckle over to Frank. The boys rested for several minutes, and then it was Frank getting up on Joe's shoulders. The younger boy staggered against the weight, but once he had the wall for balance and support, he was all right.
This went on for at least two hours, switching back and forth. They were both beginning to get very discouraged, but they persevered, as they were making progress.
Finally, when Frank was scraping at the window, the handle at the top finally came loose when he tugged on it. He stifled the urge to yell, as he very nearly fell backwards off of Joe's shoulders. He kept his grasp on the window and held on, beaming. "It came loose!" he whispered down to Joe, who grinned up and shook his fist in triumph.
"Cool! Will it open?" he asked.
"I dunno." Frank pulled hard on the handle, but it did not budge. No, he thought. No, this wasn't fair! They'd scraped at this thing all night, it seemed, it had to open! Growling with frustration, the boy yanked hard on the thing.
This time, he did fall, as the window suddenly broke free of the many layers of paint that had coated it. He cried out as he hit the floor, luckily not landing on the arm that had been hurt.
"Frank, are you okay?" Joe whispered, kneeling next to his older brother.
Frank nodded, wincing and sitting up. He coughed a few times, the breath knocked out of him.
Joe looked up, realizing for the first time that it was raining outside, and fairly hard, too; the thunderstorms that had threatened Bayport the day the boys were kidnapped were still sweeping across the east coast. A very low rumble of thunder sounded, and a waft of fresh, rain-filled air drifted into the musty basement. Joe took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He never thought that outside air could feel so good!
After a moment, Frank stood, and made an urgent "come on" gesture. "They might've heard that," he whispered to Joe. He looked up at the skinny, horizontal window, which had opened at the top. The window space was just big enough for the boys to be able to fit.
"Wait, my shoes!" Joe hissed. He nearly dove to the ground where he had left them, and shoved them onto his feet. He tied them as quickly as he could, then went back to where Frank stood by the window.
"Okay," Frank said. He had his sandals sticking out of the side-pockets of his shorts, as he didn't want to take the time to try and fix the buckle back on. He wanted to get out as quick as possible. Wasn't that what their dad always told them? In detective work, if you got caught by the bad guy, get as much distance between you and them as humanly possible. Most anything else can wait until it's safe.
"How do we do this?"
Frank bit his lip. "I-I dunno if I can get you out, Joe. You just barely reach on my shoulders, I dunno if I can push you with just one hand."
"That's okay," Joe said confidently. Now that they had managed to get the window open, he found that his confidence had returned. "I can climb out."
"Okay," said Frank. "Okay, how will I get out?"
"Maybe I can find a rope?"
Frank frowned. "I definitely know I can't climb out, I'd better go first. That way you can climb out if I find a rope."
Joe bit his lip. "You won't leave me, will you?" It seemed a silly thing to think, especially since Joe knew Frank never would, but he was still scared at being left alone in the unfriendly basement.
Frank blinked, and looked a bit hurt. "No way!" he said. "I wouldn't ever do that!"
Looking reassured, Joe nodded. "Okay...get on." Though weary, Joe stood still as Frank climbed up onto his shoulders. The older boy grasped the brick ledge on the ground outside the window, and began hoisting himself up. Joe took a hold of Frank's bare feet and pushed as far as he could reach. He winced as he watched his brother struggle to get out of the window, but silently cheered when he succeeded.
Frank, grinning, stuck his face back in the window. "Boy, I'm glad there wasn't a screen. I'll be right back!"
Joe grinned back as Frank's face drew away from the window, and took in a big breath. He glanced nervously at the door; they usually didn't check on the boys after the meal unless they were being very noisy, and he hoped that they did not check this day, either. A louder clap of thunder startled him, but after a moment he was glad of it. Thunder would mask any noise they made. He wondered what would happen if someone came down there while Frank was gone.
After about five minutes, Joe heard a noise right outside the window. He tensed, and then smiled once he saw it was Frank. "Did you find a rope?" he asked.
"Better," Frank said with a small laugh. A moment later, two metal slats were being pushed through the window. Joe frowned, wondering what the heck his brother had found, when he realized it was a ladder! He laughed softly in disbelief. A ladder would be a lot easier to climb than a rope!
With some maneuvering, Frank managed to get the ladder pointing more or less downwards, and Joe caught the end of it. Once it was all the way inside, Joe clambered up, and slipped out of the window.
The two brothers hugged briefly, and then Frank pointed. "I-I think the road's this way. C'mon! Let's go, quick!"
Joe nodded, and the two boy ran off, splashing through the mud.
Meanwhile, Fenton Hardy was becoming very discouraged about the lack of progress in finding his sons. He knew the police were doing all that they could, but they had other cases to solve as well. Fenton had decided that he would find them himself, if he had to spend the rest of his life doing it.
He had called his client, and explained the situation, that he had to hold off on the murder investigation, that his sons had been kidnapped. The man was understanding, and said that the police were working on the murder as well, and that he understood. Fenton told him, of course, that he would charge no fee for the days he was not working on the case, and would even deduct from the end fee, depending on how long he had to put it off.
And now, he had a new case; to find his sons.
He had very little to go on, only that they were probably in a quiet area. They did not know if they were even still in Bayport. Still, Fenton intended to give it his best shot. Tomorrow, he intended to start questioning people, and go from there; he knew Collig was doing his best, but he also had a disturbing suspicion. He thought that there just might be a spy within the Bayport police. It had happened before, after all, and the investigation was going slower than it should, in his opinion.
He did tell Collig that he was going to be working on the case, and got his "Good luck, Hardy", but he also told the chief his suspicions about the spy in the works. Collig expressed fury over the possibility, and assured Fenton that he was going to investigate that thoroughly. It would explain why they were getting exactly nowhere in their investigation. It would also explain how the kidnappers knew they were being traced.
"Tomorrow," Fenton murmured to himself as he got ready for bed, not knowing that his sons had escaped their prison, and were at that moment searching for a way to contact him.
"Where are we?" Joe Hardy asked. He and Frank had run for what seemed like forever, before slipping into the woods to rest a little bit. Both were shaking with exhaustion, and soaking wet. The storm was in full force by then, and wild lightning ripped across the sky every so often, lighting the whole area.
"I dunno!" Frank said. "But we-we gotta find a phone and call Mom and Dad!"
"You think there's one this far?"
Frank shook his head. "I dunno! We just gotta go until we find one! I'm pretty sure this is the way we came!"
Joe bit his lip, sinking onto the saturated ground. Might as well, he thought, I'm already all wet and muddy. He leaned against the soggy bark of a nearby tree. "Can't we sleep some?" he asked. Although the boys did not know it, it was well past midnight.
Frank frowned. The idea was very tempting, but he was afraid to stop. The bad guys might not check on them until morning, but they might check sooner. And he didn't want to get caught again! "No, we better not," he finally said. "We don't wanna get caught. Come on, let's go."
Joe sighed tiredly, but made himself get up off the ground.
"At least it's not cold out," Frank said encouragingly. The rain was a little cold, but the air was still summer-warm.
"Yeah, I hate cold. I like rain though," said Joe. "And the rain'll help us keep from getting seen, right?"
"Yep! And it'll wash out our footprints. Like the Scoutmaster said, that's why we can't find older animal tracks after a rain."
The boys moved at a fast pace for an hour or so, and finally began to see signs of civilization. They had seen houses here and there, but were unwilling to stop at any of them; they were too close to the one they had been held captive in, and they were a little paranoid that anyone living nearby might be in league with the kidnappers.
It was nearly dawn when the boys reached the end of the woods, and were very surprised to find that they were on the beach! A rocky strand of beach faded away from the forest, and into the ocean. The brothers stopped and stared for a minute, and then Frank growled, "Oh, no! We musta gone the wrong way!"
Joe bit his lip. "You don't think there's anything here that might have a pay phone? You know, like a...like a gift shop, or something?"
"I dunno," Frank said dubiously, shoving his hair off his face. It was dripping into his eyes. "This doesn't look like a very good beach. I guess we could try, though."
To the boys' great surprise, they did find a shop on the beach, and not only that, there was a paved parking lot and a paved road leading to it! The rain, finally diminishing, pattered down on the cracked sidewalk outside the shop. After a moment, the boys realized that it was a boat rental/sale place, and that there was a boathouse on the other side of it. And, most importantly, there was a pay phone outside the shop!
"Yeah!" Joe exclaimed, laughing. He hugged Frank, who hugged him back, and they ran to the phone.
Frank picked up the receiver, shivering a little bit. The cold front that had brought the violent storms had passed, and now it was considerably cooler than it had been. Frank and Joe, being soaked to the bone, were feeling the chill. The older boy stopped, and a look of dismay came over his face. "I don't have any quarters!"
Joe's eyes widened for a minute, but then he bit his lip. "Should we call 911?"
"I dunno, is this an emergency? Are we supposed to?"
Joe shook his head. "Well, can't we – hold on a second! Dad told us about a thing once if we ever had to call him, but didn't have any money! That collection thing!"
Frank's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh yeah, good job! We can call collect!" Breathing a sigh of relief, Frank dialed "0" on the phone. An operator answered, asking how she could help him.
"U-um," said Frank. "I-I need to make a collect call, but I dunno how to do it."
"That's okay," said the friendly voice. "Go ahead and tell me the number you need to call, and when I ask for you name, say it loudly and clearly. Then I'll go ahead and make the call."
"Thanks," said Frank gratefully. He told the woman his phone number, and she told him to wait a moment. "Okay," she said. "Say your name."
"Frank."
There was a moment of silence, during which Frank panicked a little, thinking they had been cut off, but then there was his father's voice, sounding both unbelieving and concerned. "Frank? Is that you
"Dad!" Frank cried, biting his lip. The urge to cry was great. "Yeah, it's me, Joe's with me!"
"Frank, where are you?"
"I-I don't know, we're at the beach, me and Joe, we got out through the window!"
"You escaped?"
"Yeah!"
There was a laugh, a delighted, amazed laugh. "Fantastic! Frank, I am proud of you, of both of you. You'll have to tell me the whole story when you get home. Okay, describe to me exactly where you are, and what the area around the place they were holding you was like. Can you do that for me, son?"
Frank nodded. "Okay, we're on the beach, the woods sorta came out onto it. It's all rocky and stuff, though, I don't think people use it, except to ride boats. There's a place to rent and buy boats here, and there's a boathouse."
As Frank continued to describe everything he could think of, Joe looked towards the parking lot. He frowned, looking down the road that led to it, seeing what he thought might be a car in the gray light of pre-dawn. After a moment, he was sure. "F-Frank?" he said, tugging on his brother's sleeve. "Frank, isn't that –"
At that moment, Frank looked, breaking off what he was going to say. His eyes widened as two car doors opened and slammed, and two figures sprinted towards them. "Joe it's them, run!" Frank dropped the phone and sprinted for the woods, Joe on his heels.
The two figures pursued.