"Frank!" brown-haired, brown-eyed, six foot one Frank Hardy awoke with a start. "Frank!" he heard his mother screaming in near desperation from his brother's room.
He threw his cover off and took off at a run as soon as his feet hit the carpeted floor. He ran through the bathroom, which connected his room to his brother Joe's, and came to a sudden halt. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock as he saw his blond, petite mother, Laura, lying on Joe's bed. Her hands had been tied behind her back and her ankles were bound so she could not walk. Around her neck, hanging halfway off of her face was one of Joe's bandanas, which someone had used as a gag.
"Mom!" Frank shouted, finally coming out of shock and rushing over to her. "Are you all right? What happened? Where's Joe?" he threw the questions at her.
"I was on my way downstairs to fix breakfast when I heard a noise in Joe's room," Laura told Frank as he began untying her. "I thought he was awake so I opened the door to tell him I'd have breakfast ready soon."
Her blue eyes began tearing and her voice dropped a bit lower. "There were two men in the room. One was holding a gun to Joe's head with his hand clamped around his mouth. They said if I made any noise, they would kill your brother. Then they tied me up and gagged me."
She began crying in earnest. "Your brother, he...he tried to help me, but the guy with the gun hit him on the back of the head with the gun. Joe fell down." She paused, trying to regain some composure before continuing. "They picked him up and carried him out."
"How long ago?" Frank asked, worry etched all over his face.
"At least an hour," she said.
"Did they say anything?" Frank pushed her to remember.
She shook her head. "Only to keep quiet or they would kill Joe," she answered.
"What did they look like?" Frank asked. He was trying to get some sort of clue from his mother.
"One was big with broad shoulders," Laura told him. "The man with the gun was about your size," she added.
"What about their hair color? Did they have any distinguishing marks?" Frank asked, a little surprised his mom hadn't given a better description.
"They were wearing ski masks, gloves, and dark clothes," she answered him. "I didn't even see what color eyes they had," she added miserably. "It was too dark."
"Don't worry," Frank soothed her, tossing the ropes on the floor and helping her to sit up. "We'll get Joe back," he promised, although, at the moment, he didn't know how.
Frank helped her off the bed and she went back to the room she shared with her husband. She said she was going to try and get in touch with him.
Fenton Hardy, a former member of the New York City Police Department, was now an internationally known private investigator and considered by many to be the best in his field. He had been out of town on a case for the past four days.
Frank went into his father's office. The office was a bedroom, which had been converted to accommodate Fenton Hardy's investigative agency. He picked up the phone, which had a separate line from the rest of the house, and dialed the number for the Bayport City Police Department. "Let me speak with Chief Collig," Frank said after it was picked up. "This is Frank Hardy."
He was quickly put through to the chief of police. "Joe's been kidnapped," Frank said when Chief Collig answered. He then repeated the information he had gleaned from his mother.
"I'll put out an APB on Joe," Chief Collig assured him. "And I'll have Sergeant Riley come over," he added.
"I'll be waiting," Franks said. He hung up the phone then thought for a moment about what his next step should be.
He sat down at his father's desk, ready to check for prison escapes or releases of past foes on the computer, when the phone rang.
"Hello," he answered, snagging it on the first ring.
"And you are?" came a gruff voice from the other end.
"You called here," Frank retorted. "Who are you?"
"Let's just say I'm an acquaintance of a young man who answers to Joe, that is," the voice continued, "if he could answer."
"What have you done with him?" Frank demanded.
"Nothing yet," the voice replied. "Give a message to Hardy," the man ordered. "Tell him if he ever wants to see his son alive again, to bring the Hashman file to Slap Happy's Bar and Grille in Southport. He's to leave it in the second trashcan from the rear. If it's not there by eleven o'clock this morning, the kid dies."
"But...." Frank started but a click on the other end told him it was useless.
He checked his watch as he stood up. He had less than four hours to find the file and get it to Southport. 'Not bad,' he thought. 'Considering Southport was only about an hour away.'
He opened his father's file cabinet and searched for Hashman. "Harmon, Harrison," he read aloud as he flipped through them. "Hart, Havish, Henry, Hinkell. What?!" Frank stopped, his heartbeat increasing as he looked through the files again. It wasn't there!
He shoved the file drawer closed as he ran from the room and raced down the hall to his parents' bedroom. He rapped on the door.
"Come in," Laura called. Frank entered and found his mom on the phone.
"Dad?" Frank asked anxiously. Laura nodded and held the phone out to him.
"Dad, Joe's kidnappers just called," he said. "They want the Hashman file left in a trash can in Southport by eleven this morning, or they are going to kill him. I can't find the file," he added almost hysterically.
"Calm down," Fenton ordered. "Did you report the kidnapping to Chief Collig?" he asked.
"Yes, of course," Frank answered. "He's sending Con over. About the file..."
"I know," Fenton said, cutting him off. "We have no choice but to give it to them."
"Where is it?" Frank practically screamed.
"I've got it," Fenton answered his irate son. "I'm in New York," he told Frank. "But I can't leave."
"But Joe's life depends on that file!" Frank shouted at his father in disbelief.
"And if I leave here now, several thousand people will die," Fenton tried to explain. "There's a group of terrorist at work here. I can't give any details, but I have to stay. You'll have to come and pick the file up," he said.
"It's almost a four hour drive," Frank argued. "One way! We don't have that kind of time!"
"We will if you fly," Fenton replied. "Call Jack Wayne," he said, naming the pilot he always used and the man who had taught his sons to fly. "Tell him to get the plane ready for a fast trip. He can fly you here, wait while you get the file, then fly you back."
"Which hotel are you in?" Frank asked.
"The Holiday," Fenton told him. "Room 417. If I'm not there, you know where to find the file. And Frank," he added, his voice thick. "Good luck."
Frank hung up and called Jack. He promised to have the Sky Sleuth, the Hardy's plane, ready and waiting by the time Frank arrived at the airport.
"Mom, you'll have to take care of Con," he said as he left the room to go and change.
Frank reached the airport in twenty-five minutes. Jack was ready when he arrived and they took off as soon as Jack received clearance.
Landing in New York, Frank hailed a cab. He didn't want to waste time on the subway. When they arrived at the hotel, Frank promised the driver a big tip if he would wait.
Frank went to the desk in the lobby and asked if there was a message for him from room 417. The clerk, who had been told to expect Frank, removed an envelope from a cubby hole behind him and handed it to Frank.
Frank took the envelope and walked to the elevators. Getting inside, he hit the button for the fourth floor. He opened the envelope and removed the key from within on his way up. He walked down the hall, stopping at room 417.
He started to put the key into the lock when he heard a noise from within. He frowned, knowing his father wouldn't have left the key if he had been there. He put the key in the lock and slowly unlocked the door, turning the knob and pushing the door open just far enough to see inside the room.
A squat man with curly dark brown hair was rifling through a bureau drawer. Frank pushed the door the rest of the way open. "Can I help you find something?" he drawled, looking at the man questioningly.
The intruder spun around, his startled brown eyes encountering Frank's. He ran straight at Frank, pushing him down and racing toward the stairs. Frank was up in a flash, pulling the hotel door shut behind him by instinct. He raced after the man and tackled him on the next landing.
"Who are you?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes glinting in anger.
"Find out!" the man snarled defiantly, trying to throw Frank off.
"I don't have time for this," Frank mumbled to himself, getting up and hauling the man to his feet and pushing him into the entrance to the third floor. Frank propelled the man to the elevator and kept a tight grip on him until they had reached the lobby. He turned the man over to hotel security and told them to contact Chief Jeff Peterson, the NYPD's chief of police and his father's old partner.
After asking them to tell Chief Peterson he would be back to file charges, he returned to his father's room on the fourth floor. Careful not to disturb anything, Frank knelt beneath the drawer the intruder had been searching and saw the item he was after. He dislodged the file by tugging at two of the corners. It fell into his hands and he stood up and looked at it.
His father had put the file in a special envelope that would change color at any part where someone might try to tamper with it. Frank frowned. He had hoped to read the file on the way back to Southport but he couldn't chance Joe's kidnappers thinking anything had been removed. He left the drawer open and left the room, closing the door securely behind him.
He took the elevator to the lobby and hurried outside to his waiting taxi. "Back to the airport," Frank ordered when he got inside.
"I don't think so," said the driver, turning around to look at Frank. Frank's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide as he recognized the man he had just turned over to hotel security. He reached for the door handle but before he could touch it, the door opened and another man climbed into the cab with Frank.
Frank moved to the other side, but the new man's hand grabbed Frank's shoulder, pulling him back and the barrel of a gun was pushed into his side. "I wouldn't if I were you," Frank was warned in a calm voice. 'Could this be one of the guys who kidnapped Joe?' Frank wondered, taking in the man's appearance. He looked to be about forty-eight years old with rich, dark brown hair and blue eyes. Frank looked back at the driver. "What did you do with the real cabbie?" he asked.
"Keep quiet," the man with the gun ordered.
"How did you get away from security?" Frank asked the driver, ignoring the order.
"I said, keep quiet," the man beside him snarled, pushing the gun forward so that it dug into Frank's side.
Frank sat quietly, fuming but glad the file was tucked safely beneath his shirt. Almost half an hour later, the taxi pulled to a stop outside of a run-down eight story apartment building. Graffiti was written all over the walls and as Frank was led inside, he noticed some of the apartments had no doors.
Reaching the fourth floor, Frank was ordered through the third door on his left. Inside, he was made to sit down and wait. Shortly, a tall, thin man in his late fifties arrived and sat down across from Frank.
"What were you doing at the Holiday?" the elderly man asked Frank, his green eyes cold and hard.
"What was your pal doing?" Frank demanded. "I had a key."
"The room is registered to Arthur Wayman," the man said, staring into Frank's eyes. "You don't look like an Arthur."
"Appearances can be deceiving," Frank retorted, meeting the man's gaze. "What was your flunkie doing in my room?"
"He was attempting to retrieve a file," the man replied.
This was what Frank had been waiting to hear. "Why?" he demanded harshly. "You told me to bring you the file. I was doing that. Where's my brother?" he shouted, standing up and glaring down at the man with hatred.
"Where's the file?" the man countered.
"You'll get the file when I see Joe and not before," Frank retorted.
"Search him," the man ordered the other two men.
"Go ahead," Frank offered, throwing his arms wide. "You honestly think I have it one me?" he bluffed.
The boss looked at the squat man. "Go back and search the room again," he snarled. "And no slip ups this time." He turned to the other man. "Take care of him," he ordered, leaving the room.
"What made you think the file was here?" Frank asked.
"Let's just say, the walls have ears," was the reply he received. 'They bugged the phones,' Frank thought.
"Hands behind your back kid," the man ordered, moving closer to Frank.
"Honestly," Frank said, taking a step closer and lifting one hand up in a stop gesture. "Why.."
"Sit down and put your..." The man never got to finish what he was saying because Frank had taken another step closer to him and let fly with a left uppercut shich sent him reeling backward. The gun flew from his hand as he crashed to the floor, unconscious.
Frank wanted to search the building for Joe, but realized he couldn't do it by himself. He left, careful not to let anyone see him, and went to the nearest payphone. It took a little persuasion to be allowed to speak with Chief Peterson, but he was finally put through.
Frank told him about Joe's abduction, the intruder at the hotel, turning him over to security, and about being kidnapped. Frank gave him the address and asked him to check the premises thoroughly for Joe.
"I'll get some men and we'll be right over," Chief Peterson promised. "Don't go back in without us," he cautioned Frank.
"I'm not going back at all," Frank informed him. "If these guys do get away and Joe isn't there, then I still have to deliver the file in Southport. And if I don't hurry to the airport, I'll never make it on time." Frank asked Chief Peterson to call him at home later that afternoon, then said goodbye.
Frank flagged down a taxi. Arriving at the airport, he threw the driver a twenty and took off at a run for the Sky Sleuth.
"What took so long?" Jack asked.
"I'll tell you on the way," Frank promised. "Let's get this baby in the air and on the way to Southport."
Frank brought Jack up to date as they flew to the Southport airfield. "Now I've got less than thirty minutes to get this file to the back of the bar and grille," he ended.
"You'll make it," Jack promised, bringing the plane in for a landing. "But if they were trying to find the file even after they told you to give it to them, what's to stop them from taking the file and keeping Joe too?" he asked.
"Yeah, I thought about that too," Frank admitted, looking glum. "But aside from waiting and following them, I don't see what I can do," he said. "And if I do wait and don't go back to the house and they call to see if I'm there..."
"They might kill him," Jack finished the thought for him.
"How about you make the drop and I watch for them? You can fly back to Bayport and I'll get a rental for now," Jack suggested as they taxied to a stop.
"Jack! That's a great idea!" Frank enthused. "I'll take a cab and make the drop." He checked his watch. "Less than fifteen minutes," he said. "I'm going on. You follow as soon as you can."
"Will do," Jack agreed as Frank took off at a run after exiting the plane.
Frank arrived at Slap Happy's Bar and Grille with three minutes to spare. He put the unopened file in the trashcan and returned to the cab. Less than two hours later, he sat by the phone at his father's desk, drumming his fingers impatiently.
His stomach growled and he realized with a start he hadn't had anything to eat since the night before. He checked his watch. Almost one o'clock. 'Why didn't Jack call?' he wondered. 'Why hadn't the kidnappers?'
He stood up and began pacing, ignoring the feeling in his stomach. Twenty minutes later, he left the office, leaving the door open and went downstairs to the kitchen.
He gasped in surprise as he pushed open the door to the kitchen. A chair was lying on the floor as was a broken coffee cup and saucer.
Frank swallowed, terrified his mother had been taken too. He walked to the phone hanging on the wall by the refrigerator and started to pick it up when he saw a pack of matches lying in the floor near the leg of the table. He bent down and retrieved the pack. "Cobra Shack," Frank read the name on the packet. He recognized the name as belonging to a new restaurant, which had just opened up not far from the high school.
It wasn't much, but it was a lead, he thought, stuffing the matchbook in his pocket and leaving.
When he arrived at the Cobra Shack, he couldn't believe his luck. There were two of the men who had kidnapped him in New York. He watched them get into a blue sedan and leave the parking lot.
Frank followed at a discreet distance. He was positive he hadn't been spotted because they seemed to be in no hurry.
They didn't go far, pulling off on the road, which led to the high school, and parking behind the building. Frank parked just outside of the entrance to the school and stealthily made his way to the building.
Once inside, he heard voices coming from the principal's office and paused outside the door, listening.
"The file is here and intact," the squat man was saying. "We've got Joe and his mom tied up in the gym along with that guy who was following us in Southport."
"But not for long," said the man Frank had perceived to be the boss in New York. "We'll kill them and leave them here. When the students arrive tomorrow morning, they'll have a nice surprise."
"Now?" asked the squat man, pulling out his gun.
"After we destroy this file," the boss answered. "Turn on the shredder."
Frank had heard enough. He had to get down to the gym and get Joe, his mom, and Jack away now or it would be too late. There was no way he could take on three armed crooks alone. He slipped away and headed toward the gym, keeping his pace slow and quiet until he hit the end of the hallway where he broke into a run.
He ran down the steps and across the lobby, pushing the gym doors open and reaching the middle of the gym before stopping in the darkness. "Joe, Mom, Jack," Frank hissed.
All at once, the lights came on and a loud chorus of HAPPY BIRTHDAY filled the gymnasium.
Frank stood still, shock written all over his face as his dad, mom and blond-headed, blue-eyed, baby brother came to stand before him.
"Happy birthday, Big Brother," Joe said giving him a big hug.
"What, how...?" Frank was too confused to finish his questions. In all the excitement, he had completely forgotten today was his nineteenth birthday.
"Uh, the office..." Frank started, his eyes growing wider still as the three men from the office, the ones who had kidnapped him in New York, came into the gym with the high schools' principal. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"Joe wanted to give you a surprise party," Frank's blond-headed, green-eyed, seventeen-year-old girlfriend, Callie Shaw, informed him.
"And he knew if you were around, he couldn't hide the preparations from you," said eighteen-year-old, blond and beefy Biff Hooper.
"So he got everyone together and arranged a mystery to keep you occupied," Mr. Hardy put in. "Joe thought if we could catch you off-guard, you might forget it was even your birthday," he added.
"I did," Frank replied sheepishly, looking around at all his friends and family.
"But who are these guys?" Frank asked, looking at the three men. "And what was in that file? And Chief Peterson..." he started to say he had to call and tell him not to investigate the kidnapping but his dad interrupted him.
"Was in on it," said Mr. Hardy. "As was the hotel security."
Joe grinned broadly. "Frank, I would like you to meet Ken Meyers," Frank shook hands with the squat man. "Steve Desault," Frank shook hands with the alleged bossman. "And Tim Greer," Frank shook hands with the man he had fought with in New York. "They are three of your professors at Bayport University next year," Joe introduced the men.
"And long-time admirers of the Hardys," Ken said, shaking Frank's hand. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," Frank replied. "It's good to know some of my teachers have a sense of humor. But how did you get involved in this?"
"Your brother approached us," Tim answered. "He, uh, intercepted your course schedule and asked us if we would like to participate." Tim smiled over at Joe and pulled out the gun he had held on Frank earlier and gave it to Joe.
Ken also took out his gun and handed it to Joe. "He can be pretty persuasive."
"Thanks," Joe accepted the guns and shot up into the air.
"Harmless cap guns. Of course,' Frank thought, smiling. He looked at Joe. "Thanks Joe," he said with a silly grin on his face. "But if you ever do this to me again..." he threatened.
"You'll enjoy it just as much," Joe finished for him, a huge grin on his face.
"Here Son," Mr. Hardy said, handing Frank the sealed file.
Frank took the package and began tearing the plastic covering. Out fell a small envelope. He opened it up and pulled out a gift certificate to PChome, a computer store in the mall.
"Wow!" Frank said, taking in the amount. "Now I can get that new laptop I've been wanting. Thanks!" he said, giving each of his parents a hug.
"Let's eat!" blond-headed, brown-eyed Chet Morton shouted.
In total agreement, Frank led the way to the side of the gym where a buffet had been laid out. After several hours of dancing and eating, Frank opened his gifts. He had gotten everything from tee shirts to computer games but not a one from Joe.
After the guests had left, the caterers began cleaning up the place and the Hardys went home.
"Thanks Joe," Frank said later that night as he and Joe sat in Frank's room playing a game of chess. Joe lifted an eyebrow in question. "For the party and the mystery," Frank explained. "It has been my best birthday yet."
Joe grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small box and handed it to Frank. "Happy birthday bro," he said.
Frank took the box and opened it. Inside was a 14-carat necklace with a circular golden pendant attached to it. Engraved on the front were the words: Brothers and Friends Forever.
"Thanks," Frank said, his voice coming out raspy. His bright brown eyes sought out Joe's blue ones. "I love it! I'll never take it off," he promised, putting it around his neck.
End
He threw his cover off and took off at a run as soon as his feet hit the carpeted floor. He ran through the bathroom, which connected his room to his brother Joe's, and came to a sudden halt. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock as he saw his blond, petite mother, Laura, lying on Joe's bed. Her hands had been tied behind her back and her ankles were bound so she could not walk. Around her neck, hanging halfway off of her face was one of Joe's bandanas, which someone had used as a gag.
"Mom!" Frank shouted, finally coming out of shock and rushing over to her. "Are you all right? What happened? Where's Joe?" he threw the questions at her.
"I was on my way downstairs to fix breakfast when I heard a noise in Joe's room," Laura told Frank as he began untying her. "I thought he was awake so I opened the door to tell him I'd have breakfast ready soon."
Her blue eyes began tearing and her voice dropped a bit lower. "There were two men in the room. One was holding a gun to Joe's head with his hand clamped around his mouth. They said if I made any noise, they would kill your brother. Then they tied me up and gagged me."
She began crying in earnest. "Your brother, he...he tried to help me, but the guy with the gun hit him on the back of the head with the gun. Joe fell down." She paused, trying to regain some composure before continuing. "They picked him up and carried him out."
"How long ago?" Frank asked, worry etched all over his face.
"At least an hour," she said.
"Did they say anything?" Frank pushed her to remember.
She shook her head. "Only to keep quiet or they would kill Joe," she answered.
"What did they look like?" Frank asked. He was trying to get some sort of clue from his mother.
"One was big with broad shoulders," Laura told him. "The man with the gun was about your size," she added.
"What about their hair color? Did they have any distinguishing marks?" Frank asked, a little surprised his mom hadn't given a better description.
"They were wearing ski masks, gloves, and dark clothes," she answered him. "I didn't even see what color eyes they had," she added miserably. "It was too dark."
"Don't worry," Frank soothed her, tossing the ropes on the floor and helping her to sit up. "We'll get Joe back," he promised, although, at the moment, he didn't know how.
Frank helped her off the bed and she went back to the room she shared with her husband. She said she was going to try and get in touch with him.
Fenton Hardy, a former member of the New York City Police Department, was now an internationally known private investigator and considered by many to be the best in his field. He had been out of town on a case for the past four days.
Frank went into his father's office. The office was a bedroom, which had been converted to accommodate Fenton Hardy's investigative agency. He picked up the phone, which had a separate line from the rest of the house, and dialed the number for the Bayport City Police Department. "Let me speak with Chief Collig," Frank said after it was picked up. "This is Frank Hardy."
He was quickly put through to the chief of police. "Joe's been kidnapped," Frank said when Chief Collig answered. He then repeated the information he had gleaned from his mother.
"I'll put out an APB on Joe," Chief Collig assured him. "And I'll have Sergeant Riley come over," he added.
"I'll be waiting," Franks said. He hung up the phone then thought for a moment about what his next step should be.
He sat down at his father's desk, ready to check for prison escapes or releases of past foes on the computer, when the phone rang.
"Hello," he answered, snagging it on the first ring.
"And you are?" came a gruff voice from the other end.
"You called here," Frank retorted. "Who are you?"
"Let's just say I'm an acquaintance of a young man who answers to Joe, that is," the voice continued, "if he could answer."
"What have you done with him?" Frank demanded.
"Nothing yet," the voice replied. "Give a message to Hardy," the man ordered. "Tell him if he ever wants to see his son alive again, to bring the Hashman file to Slap Happy's Bar and Grille in Southport. He's to leave it in the second trashcan from the rear. If it's not there by eleven o'clock this morning, the kid dies."
"But...." Frank started but a click on the other end told him it was useless.
He checked his watch as he stood up. He had less than four hours to find the file and get it to Southport. 'Not bad,' he thought. 'Considering Southport was only about an hour away.'
He opened his father's file cabinet and searched for Hashman. "Harmon, Harrison," he read aloud as he flipped through them. "Hart, Havish, Henry, Hinkell. What?!" Frank stopped, his heartbeat increasing as he looked through the files again. It wasn't there!
He shoved the file drawer closed as he ran from the room and raced down the hall to his parents' bedroom. He rapped on the door.
"Come in," Laura called. Frank entered and found his mom on the phone.
"Dad?" Frank asked anxiously. Laura nodded and held the phone out to him.
"Dad, Joe's kidnappers just called," he said. "They want the Hashman file left in a trash can in Southport by eleven this morning, or they are going to kill him. I can't find the file," he added almost hysterically.
"Calm down," Fenton ordered. "Did you report the kidnapping to Chief Collig?" he asked.
"Yes, of course," Frank answered. "He's sending Con over. About the file..."
"I know," Fenton said, cutting him off. "We have no choice but to give it to them."
"Where is it?" Frank practically screamed.
"I've got it," Fenton answered his irate son. "I'm in New York," he told Frank. "But I can't leave."
"But Joe's life depends on that file!" Frank shouted at his father in disbelief.
"And if I leave here now, several thousand people will die," Fenton tried to explain. "There's a group of terrorist at work here. I can't give any details, but I have to stay. You'll have to come and pick the file up," he said.
"It's almost a four hour drive," Frank argued. "One way! We don't have that kind of time!"
"We will if you fly," Fenton replied. "Call Jack Wayne," he said, naming the pilot he always used and the man who had taught his sons to fly. "Tell him to get the plane ready for a fast trip. He can fly you here, wait while you get the file, then fly you back."
"Which hotel are you in?" Frank asked.
"The Holiday," Fenton told him. "Room 417. If I'm not there, you know where to find the file. And Frank," he added, his voice thick. "Good luck."
Frank hung up and called Jack. He promised to have the Sky Sleuth, the Hardy's plane, ready and waiting by the time Frank arrived at the airport.
"Mom, you'll have to take care of Con," he said as he left the room to go and change.
Frank reached the airport in twenty-five minutes. Jack was ready when he arrived and they took off as soon as Jack received clearance.
Landing in New York, Frank hailed a cab. He didn't want to waste time on the subway. When they arrived at the hotel, Frank promised the driver a big tip if he would wait.
Frank went to the desk in the lobby and asked if there was a message for him from room 417. The clerk, who had been told to expect Frank, removed an envelope from a cubby hole behind him and handed it to Frank.
Frank took the envelope and walked to the elevators. Getting inside, he hit the button for the fourth floor. He opened the envelope and removed the key from within on his way up. He walked down the hall, stopping at room 417.
He started to put the key into the lock when he heard a noise from within. He frowned, knowing his father wouldn't have left the key if he had been there. He put the key in the lock and slowly unlocked the door, turning the knob and pushing the door open just far enough to see inside the room.
A squat man with curly dark brown hair was rifling through a bureau drawer. Frank pushed the door the rest of the way open. "Can I help you find something?" he drawled, looking at the man questioningly.
The intruder spun around, his startled brown eyes encountering Frank's. He ran straight at Frank, pushing him down and racing toward the stairs. Frank was up in a flash, pulling the hotel door shut behind him by instinct. He raced after the man and tackled him on the next landing.
"Who are you?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes glinting in anger.
"Find out!" the man snarled defiantly, trying to throw Frank off.
"I don't have time for this," Frank mumbled to himself, getting up and hauling the man to his feet and pushing him into the entrance to the third floor. Frank propelled the man to the elevator and kept a tight grip on him until they had reached the lobby. He turned the man over to hotel security and told them to contact Chief Jeff Peterson, the NYPD's chief of police and his father's old partner.
After asking them to tell Chief Peterson he would be back to file charges, he returned to his father's room on the fourth floor. Careful not to disturb anything, Frank knelt beneath the drawer the intruder had been searching and saw the item he was after. He dislodged the file by tugging at two of the corners. It fell into his hands and he stood up and looked at it.
His father had put the file in a special envelope that would change color at any part where someone might try to tamper with it. Frank frowned. He had hoped to read the file on the way back to Southport but he couldn't chance Joe's kidnappers thinking anything had been removed. He left the drawer open and left the room, closing the door securely behind him.
He took the elevator to the lobby and hurried outside to his waiting taxi. "Back to the airport," Frank ordered when he got inside.
"I don't think so," said the driver, turning around to look at Frank. Frank's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide as he recognized the man he had just turned over to hotel security. He reached for the door handle but before he could touch it, the door opened and another man climbed into the cab with Frank.
Frank moved to the other side, but the new man's hand grabbed Frank's shoulder, pulling him back and the barrel of a gun was pushed into his side. "I wouldn't if I were you," Frank was warned in a calm voice. 'Could this be one of the guys who kidnapped Joe?' Frank wondered, taking in the man's appearance. He looked to be about forty-eight years old with rich, dark brown hair and blue eyes. Frank looked back at the driver. "What did you do with the real cabbie?" he asked.
"Keep quiet," the man with the gun ordered.
"How did you get away from security?" Frank asked the driver, ignoring the order.
"I said, keep quiet," the man beside him snarled, pushing the gun forward so that it dug into Frank's side.
Frank sat quietly, fuming but glad the file was tucked safely beneath his shirt. Almost half an hour later, the taxi pulled to a stop outside of a run-down eight story apartment building. Graffiti was written all over the walls and as Frank was led inside, he noticed some of the apartments had no doors.
Reaching the fourth floor, Frank was ordered through the third door on his left. Inside, he was made to sit down and wait. Shortly, a tall, thin man in his late fifties arrived and sat down across from Frank.
"What were you doing at the Holiday?" the elderly man asked Frank, his green eyes cold and hard.
"What was your pal doing?" Frank demanded. "I had a key."
"The room is registered to Arthur Wayman," the man said, staring into Frank's eyes. "You don't look like an Arthur."
"Appearances can be deceiving," Frank retorted, meeting the man's gaze. "What was your flunkie doing in my room?"
"He was attempting to retrieve a file," the man replied.
This was what Frank had been waiting to hear. "Why?" he demanded harshly. "You told me to bring you the file. I was doing that. Where's my brother?" he shouted, standing up and glaring down at the man with hatred.
"Where's the file?" the man countered.
"You'll get the file when I see Joe and not before," Frank retorted.
"Search him," the man ordered the other two men.
"Go ahead," Frank offered, throwing his arms wide. "You honestly think I have it one me?" he bluffed.
The boss looked at the squat man. "Go back and search the room again," he snarled. "And no slip ups this time." He turned to the other man. "Take care of him," he ordered, leaving the room.
"What made you think the file was here?" Frank asked.
"Let's just say, the walls have ears," was the reply he received. 'They bugged the phones,' Frank thought.
"Hands behind your back kid," the man ordered, moving closer to Frank.
"Honestly," Frank said, taking a step closer and lifting one hand up in a stop gesture. "Why.."
"Sit down and put your..." The man never got to finish what he was saying because Frank had taken another step closer to him and let fly with a left uppercut shich sent him reeling backward. The gun flew from his hand as he crashed to the floor, unconscious.
Frank wanted to search the building for Joe, but realized he couldn't do it by himself. He left, careful not to let anyone see him, and went to the nearest payphone. It took a little persuasion to be allowed to speak with Chief Peterson, but he was finally put through.
Frank told him about Joe's abduction, the intruder at the hotel, turning him over to security, and about being kidnapped. Frank gave him the address and asked him to check the premises thoroughly for Joe.
"I'll get some men and we'll be right over," Chief Peterson promised. "Don't go back in without us," he cautioned Frank.
"I'm not going back at all," Frank informed him. "If these guys do get away and Joe isn't there, then I still have to deliver the file in Southport. And if I don't hurry to the airport, I'll never make it on time." Frank asked Chief Peterson to call him at home later that afternoon, then said goodbye.
Frank flagged down a taxi. Arriving at the airport, he threw the driver a twenty and took off at a run for the Sky Sleuth.
"What took so long?" Jack asked.
"I'll tell you on the way," Frank promised. "Let's get this baby in the air and on the way to Southport."
Frank brought Jack up to date as they flew to the Southport airfield. "Now I've got less than thirty minutes to get this file to the back of the bar and grille," he ended.
"You'll make it," Jack promised, bringing the plane in for a landing. "But if they were trying to find the file even after they told you to give it to them, what's to stop them from taking the file and keeping Joe too?" he asked.
"Yeah, I thought about that too," Frank admitted, looking glum. "But aside from waiting and following them, I don't see what I can do," he said. "And if I do wait and don't go back to the house and they call to see if I'm there..."
"They might kill him," Jack finished the thought for him.
"How about you make the drop and I watch for them? You can fly back to Bayport and I'll get a rental for now," Jack suggested as they taxied to a stop.
"Jack! That's a great idea!" Frank enthused. "I'll take a cab and make the drop." He checked his watch. "Less than fifteen minutes," he said. "I'm going on. You follow as soon as you can."
"Will do," Jack agreed as Frank took off at a run after exiting the plane.
Frank arrived at Slap Happy's Bar and Grille with three minutes to spare. He put the unopened file in the trashcan and returned to the cab. Less than two hours later, he sat by the phone at his father's desk, drumming his fingers impatiently.
His stomach growled and he realized with a start he hadn't had anything to eat since the night before. He checked his watch. Almost one o'clock. 'Why didn't Jack call?' he wondered. 'Why hadn't the kidnappers?'
He stood up and began pacing, ignoring the feeling in his stomach. Twenty minutes later, he left the office, leaving the door open and went downstairs to the kitchen.
He gasped in surprise as he pushed open the door to the kitchen. A chair was lying on the floor as was a broken coffee cup and saucer.
Frank swallowed, terrified his mother had been taken too. He walked to the phone hanging on the wall by the refrigerator and started to pick it up when he saw a pack of matches lying in the floor near the leg of the table. He bent down and retrieved the pack. "Cobra Shack," Frank read the name on the packet. He recognized the name as belonging to a new restaurant, which had just opened up not far from the high school.
It wasn't much, but it was a lead, he thought, stuffing the matchbook in his pocket and leaving.
When he arrived at the Cobra Shack, he couldn't believe his luck. There were two of the men who had kidnapped him in New York. He watched them get into a blue sedan and leave the parking lot.
Frank followed at a discreet distance. He was positive he hadn't been spotted because they seemed to be in no hurry.
They didn't go far, pulling off on the road, which led to the high school, and parking behind the building. Frank parked just outside of the entrance to the school and stealthily made his way to the building.
Once inside, he heard voices coming from the principal's office and paused outside the door, listening.
"The file is here and intact," the squat man was saying. "We've got Joe and his mom tied up in the gym along with that guy who was following us in Southport."
"But not for long," said the man Frank had perceived to be the boss in New York. "We'll kill them and leave them here. When the students arrive tomorrow morning, they'll have a nice surprise."
"Now?" asked the squat man, pulling out his gun.
"After we destroy this file," the boss answered. "Turn on the shredder."
Frank had heard enough. He had to get down to the gym and get Joe, his mom, and Jack away now or it would be too late. There was no way he could take on three armed crooks alone. He slipped away and headed toward the gym, keeping his pace slow and quiet until he hit the end of the hallway where he broke into a run.
He ran down the steps and across the lobby, pushing the gym doors open and reaching the middle of the gym before stopping in the darkness. "Joe, Mom, Jack," Frank hissed.
All at once, the lights came on and a loud chorus of HAPPY BIRTHDAY filled the gymnasium.
Frank stood still, shock written all over his face as his dad, mom and blond-headed, blue-eyed, baby brother came to stand before him.
"Happy birthday, Big Brother," Joe said giving him a big hug.
"What, how...?" Frank was too confused to finish his questions. In all the excitement, he had completely forgotten today was his nineteenth birthday.
"Uh, the office..." Frank started, his eyes growing wider still as the three men from the office, the ones who had kidnapped him in New York, came into the gym with the high schools' principal. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"Joe wanted to give you a surprise party," Frank's blond-headed, green-eyed, seventeen-year-old girlfriend, Callie Shaw, informed him.
"And he knew if you were around, he couldn't hide the preparations from you," said eighteen-year-old, blond and beefy Biff Hooper.
"So he got everyone together and arranged a mystery to keep you occupied," Mr. Hardy put in. "Joe thought if we could catch you off-guard, you might forget it was even your birthday," he added.
"I did," Frank replied sheepishly, looking around at all his friends and family.
"But who are these guys?" Frank asked, looking at the three men. "And what was in that file? And Chief Peterson..." he started to say he had to call and tell him not to investigate the kidnapping but his dad interrupted him.
"Was in on it," said Mr. Hardy. "As was the hotel security."
Joe grinned broadly. "Frank, I would like you to meet Ken Meyers," Frank shook hands with the squat man. "Steve Desault," Frank shook hands with the alleged bossman. "And Tim Greer," Frank shook hands with the man he had fought with in New York. "They are three of your professors at Bayport University next year," Joe introduced the men.
"And long-time admirers of the Hardys," Ken said, shaking Frank's hand. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," Frank replied. "It's good to know some of my teachers have a sense of humor. But how did you get involved in this?"
"Your brother approached us," Tim answered. "He, uh, intercepted your course schedule and asked us if we would like to participate." Tim smiled over at Joe and pulled out the gun he had held on Frank earlier and gave it to Joe.
Ken also took out his gun and handed it to Joe. "He can be pretty persuasive."
"Thanks," Joe accepted the guns and shot up into the air.
"Harmless cap guns. Of course,' Frank thought, smiling. He looked at Joe. "Thanks Joe," he said with a silly grin on his face. "But if you ever do this to me again..." he threatened.
"You'll enjoy it just as much," Joe finished for him, a huge grin on his face.
"Here Son," Mr. Hardy said, handing Frank the sealed file.
Frank took the package and began tearing the plastic covering. Out fell a small envelope. He opened it up and pulled out a gift certificate to PChome, a computer store in the mall.
"Wow!" Frank said, taking in the amount. "Now I can get that new laptop I've been wanting. Thanks!" he said, giving each of his parents a hug.
"Let's eat!" blond-headed, brown-eyed Chet Morton shouted.
In total agreement, Frank led the way to the side of the gym where a buffet had been laid out. After several hours of dancing and eating, Frank opened his gifts. He had gotten everything from tee shirts to computer games but not a one from Joe.
After the guests had left, the caterers began cleaning up the place and the Hardys went home.
"Thanks Joe," Frank said later that night as he and Joe sat in Frank's room playing a game of chess. Joe lifted an eyebrow in question. "For the party and the mystery," Frank explained. "It has been my best birthday yet."
Joe grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small box and handed it to Frank. "Happy birthday bro," he said.
Frank took the box and opened it. Inside was a 14-carat necklace with a circular golden pendant attached to it. Engraved on the front were the words: Brothers and Friends Forever.
"Thanks," Frank said, his voice coming out raspy. His bright brown eyes sought out Joe's blue ones. "I love it! I'll never take it off," he promised, putting it around his neck.
End