The Hardy Boys: House of Cards: Chapter Four

Frank lay in bed, watching the clock and listening to the sounds in the house until it was 12:30. He heard his father and Marguerite talking for a bit, then Fenton checked in on him but he pretended to be asleep. No Joe. It was too much to hope that he was in his own room, sound asleep.

His little brother had made it clear that Frank wasn't going anywhere without him. Which was a problem, but not a big one. Of course, it was going to make Joe even more upset with him but it couldn't be helped. This was his fight and he was going to finish it alone.

Moving around the room with practiced care, Frank got dressed, grabbed his wallet then went downstairs.

Joe was sitting on the bottom step, back to the railing, feet against the wall. To get past him, Frank would have to step over him.

"I told you I wasn't going to let you out of my sight," Joe said, erasing any hope that he might be asleep.

"Seriously, you're killing me here." Frank stopped on the second step and peered down at his stubborn brother. "Fine. You want in on this? You have to do what I say and be quiet. I don't want anyone to know we're leaving."

"No problem," Joe whispered, then he got to his feet. "Lead on."

Frank grabbed the rental car keys from the table where his father had left them then as quietly as possible, opened the front door and waved for Joe to go through. This was it. One shot at it and he'd have to be smart and quick.

"I found something. You're not going to believe it." Frank walked down the path in front of the house but when he reached the rental car he kept on going.

"Wait?" Joe said, jogging slightly to keep up. "You found something here?"

"Yes. Now be quiet before someone hears you."

Joe glanced around at dark gardens and the barely lit house. "Like who?"

Frank silenced him with a look. He picked up speed, leading Joe further around a bend to an old garage. It was hard to see where they were going. The moon wasn't as bright as it had been the night before and the trees were thicker here, blocking most of the outdoor lighting from the house. Joe tripped once but caught himself before he went face first into the gravel.

The garage was closed with a plank of wood set into brackets on the two double doors. Frank lifted the plank, leaned it against the left door then opened the right. It squealed unmercifully making both boys cringe. A night bird cried back a response and that was followed by the sound of an animal in the underbrush.

"What are we doing out here?" Joe complained.

"I told you. I found something. Go in carefully, there's a flashlight on the table when you walk in. Go to the back and look in the tool chest."

"For what?"

"Just do it." Frank glanced around, making a big show of his concern. "I'll keep watch."

"For who? Carlos?"

Frank said nothing.

"You think Carlos had something to do with what happened to you?"

"Will you go look already!" Frank snapped under his breath.

"Okay, okay but I don't believe it." Joe stepped into the garage, feeling around in the dark until he found the flashlight. He switched it on and moved to the back wall to examine the old, wooden toolbox.

"Sorry little brother." Knowing the door was going to squeak when he moved it, Frank had no choice but to move fast. He swung the garage door closed then hefted the plank into place, locking the doors tight from the outside.

"Frank!" Joe pounded on the door and Frank immediately worried about the wisdom of his plan. He still had a stop to make and Joe's shouts sounded louder than he expected in the night air. No going back now.

Frank raced to the house to get what he needed, praying he'd make it there and gone before Joe woke up the whole household.

It was almost 1:30 when he got back to the club and the place was still alive with people. American disco music poured out into the parking lot where groups of people had gathered to smoke or just talk without having to shout.

Frank parked the car at the far end of the lot then circled around to the back of the building. He hit an iron gate, which wasn't locked, and beyond that was a tiled patio with a happy group of partiers. In back of that was a long, low building with a red door and big bouncer.

Frank tried confidence first, walking right up to the door as if he'd been there a dozen times. The bouncer didn't buy it. He took one step to the left, blocking the way with his massive frame.

"Sólo con invitación."

"Invitation," Frank repeated, picking up the drift. "I'm sure I have it here somewhere." He patted his pockets and came up with a colorful piece of paper money. "My Spanish isn't very good. Is this it?"

The bouncer glanced at it then shook his head.

Frank went back into his pocket and found a second bill with a higher denomination. "This must be it."

"Sí, eso es todo." The bouncer took both bills, then stepped aside to allow Frank to enter.

The room was as red on the inside as the door on the outside. It was filled with cozy stuffed couches and bean bag chairs. The music was loud, but mellower, and there were drinks or drugs on every surface. A quick count gave him eleven guys and eight women. A lot more people than he'd hoped but it was what it was. Keeping his face turned toward the floor, he wandered through the crowd listening. At first it was all Spanish. A man and a woman were singing a mixed up version of "Dancing Queen" even though the song on the stereo was anything but. Another couple was as close to screwing each other as they could get with their clothes on and after that was a group of guys huddled around lines of cocaine.

One of them, a tall blond with a trim beard, gave another a shove then stood up. "I'm taking that boat out tomorrow and all y'all can just wave bye bye from the shore."

English, with a Southern accent. Frank's stomach turned over. There was no mistaking the voice. Frank listened some more as he skirted around to the far side of the room. Texas. That's what it was. He was from Texas and he was the one who killed Lisa.

One of the cocaine boys called him Garrett and whatever followed made Garrett laugh. Then he turned on his heels, probably heading for the bar, but Frank was in his way.

For a second there was nothing. Then recognition spread across his face along with a helping of surprise.

"Party's over, pal," Frank said, his voice low and menacing. "Time for you and I to take a walk."

Joe pounded and shouted until his arms hurt and his voice was nearly gone. He didn't know for sure, but estimated that at least twenty minutes had passed before Carlos heard the noise and came to let him out.

He tore up the front walk, ran into the house then took the stairs in twos. Where earlier he'd been trying hard not to wake his father, this time he wanted the exact opposite.

"Dad!" He knocked once on his father's door then opened it only to find it empty, the bed made. Flashbacks of the other morning, and Frank's room in the same condition confused him for a second and then his father spoke from behind him.

"Joe? What's going on?"

"It's Frank." He got those words out before his brain took in Fenton's half-dressed state and the fact that he'd come out of Marguerite's room. "He locked me in the garage. He's going after them."

"Back to the club?"

"I guess. I think he found out something when we were there earlier, but he wouldn't tell me. He made up this story about Carlos and locked me in to keep me from following him. We have to – " Again Joe was distracted, this time by Marguerite in the doorway behind his father.

"He probably took the rental," she said. "I'll get you the keys to my car." She moved past both men, then ran down the stairs.

"Get the keys. I'll be right there."

Fenton went to his room and Joe followed Marguerite. He caught up to her as she went through the kitchen and into a workroom.

"Damn it!"

"What?" Joe ran in after her and saw the doors were open on the gun cabinet. All of the skeet shooting rifles were there, but from the look on Marguerite's face, Joe knew something else was missing.

"The gun's gone. A 45. Frank had to have taken it."

"He helped Victor lock up the rifles after we shot skeet last week. He must have seen it." Joe could hardly breathe thanks to the tension in his chest. Frank on the revenge trail was bad enough, but Frank with a gun? "He just took it for protection. He wouldn't shoot those guys. Even after what they did. He wouldn't."

But he couldn't convince her if he couldn't convince himself.

"Just pray he's at the club and that you get there in time."

"I'm praying, Marguerite, believe me. I'm praying."

"Really? You think you're going to switch the game up on me? Just like that? Walk into my house and take over." Garrett leaned in and smiled in the same way Frank had imagined him smiling when he'd strangled Lisa with his bare hands. "You've got guts, buddy. Real guts. But that's not going to save you when I call my compadres to help."

"Go for it." Frank punctuated the sentence by pressing the gun into Garrett's stomach. "I'll get you before they get me." Frank wanted to press the gun to the guy's head. Make him feel what it was like to have cold steel against your temple, but this wasn't the place to do it. Not with so many people around. "Now walk."

Garrett was sweating it now. "Whoa, man. You're all getting righteous over nothing!"

"Nothing?" Frank snapped, then glanced around to see if he'd drawn any attention. "A girl's dead and you call that nothing. You sick bastard." He pressed forward with the gun and Garrett countered by stumbling backwards in the direction of the door. "Keep moving."

"No, man, seriously." Garrett brought his hands up and Frank tensed, expecting an attack. "I'm not—just look." Garrett waved his hand as if beckoning someone over. Frank shifted and scanned the crowd, suddenly not sure about the strength of his position. "Maggie, tell him."

Frank shifted again as he felt the woman move up close. He got around Garrett's side, opening up the space to reveal the weapon but it wasn't the gun that surprised her, or him.

"Lisa?"

"Maggie, actually. I can't believe you came back here. Here you are ready to shoot this idiot to avenge my death. That's so sweet."

"What?" It was too much for Frank's brain to process.

"It was a game, man," said Garrett. "She gets off on it, the whole abduction thing and ya'll going to pieces thinking she's dead. That you're next."

"So, if you shoot him," Lisa said, moving closer to Frank. "You'll be the only murderer around here and I'd hate to see a nice guy like you go to jail over a prank."

"Prank? Kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder."

"We never had any intention of killing you. I told you, lover, it was just a game." She cupped his cheek and he slapped her hand away. That caught the eye of a young black man who was ready to step in until he, too recognized Frank.

"Oh shit, really?" Then he turned to Lisa and said, "I told you this one was different. That he wasn't going to be intimidated as easily as the others."

"That's why I picked him. My hero." Again she moved in, this time setting her hands on Frank's chest and again he pushed her away in disgust.

More people were eying them now so Frank tucked the gun back into his waistband then drew his windbreaker in tight to hide it. "You think you're going to just walk away from this?"

"Of course we are," said Lisa. "There are four of us and one of you. So if we tell the police that you were in on it, that it was all one, big, kinky, sex game. Who do you think they'll believe?"

Frank laughed. "Oh lady, you really chose the wrong victim this time."

Garrett kept on laughing right up until the moment Captain Rivera showed up to supervise the arrests personally.

"I've already taken the liberty of notifying your father," Rivera told the young man as an officer snapped on the cuffs. "I'm sure he'll want to send his very best lawyer."

The look on Garrett's face said he knew it wasn't true. As he was being taken away, Rivera turned to the Hardy's and said, "His father owns a large ranch in Texas and his words to me were, do what you must, I wash my hands of the boy. And while I'm pleased to hear that no one actually died, I do wish I could hit them with more than just kidnapping and assault."

"I have a feeling that if you dig deep enough," said Frank. "You'll find more."

"But for tonight, we have enough to hold them all for a long time." He clapped Frank on the back then excused himself with work to be done.

As soon as he was gone, Fenton stepped up face-to-face with his son. Despite the fact that they'd caught the bad guys, he wasn't happy.

"I think you have something that doesn't belong to you."

Frank reached into his jacket and pulled out the revolver keeping it low and hidden by their bodies.

"Is it loaded?"

He nodded, then swung the chamber out to show that it was.

"Jesus, Frank. I don't even know what to say about this." Fenton took the gun from him, dumped the bullets into his hand then put it all in opposite pockets. "I know you think I don't always treat you like an adult. Well, I'm telling you now, get used to it, because when we get back to the house, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen."

"Yes, sir," Frank replied with just a hint of defiance in his voice.

Fenton was only able to hold his temper by walking away, then Joe took his place.

"Don't you start on me."

"It was stupid Frank. I was stupid. I knew you were up to something and I should have told Dad."

"I said don't start," Frank snapped back, low and angry. "I feel like enough of a fool as it is. They used me, I was nothing but pawn in a game."

"I'm glad," Joe said, the words barely able to pass the lump in his throat.

"Glad?"

"That you weren't in any real danger because maybe knowing that I can stop seeing images of your body in the morgue. We love you, Frank. Dad and I. That's why I get pushy and why he gets mad. Because we can't bear the thought of losing you. Me, especially. And I know what you've been saying, how we're not kids anymore but I'm still your brother. I'm always going to be your brother, even if I stop being your best friend."

"Joe, I'm never going to be closer to anyone than I am to you, but this whole ordeal really made me think about my life and where I'm going."

"Where are you going?"

Frank slung his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Right now? I'm going back to Villa Rivera and then we're all going home."

"Sounds good." Joe took a step, spotted his father in the distance than stopped dead. "Oh boy. I forgot. I saw. . . you were right."

"I got that last part."

"Dad and Marguerite! I was looking for him and he wasn't in his room and he was with her and I think they were. . . you know."

"Well, good for them."

"Good for them? No. Not good for them. Not good for me, I don't want that image in my brain."

Frank laughed as he pulled Joe closer. "You have a lot of problems with images in your brain lately." And as he said it, he got an image of his own – Lisa, beneath him on the beach. He caught her eye just before they put her in the police car. She smiled wide and mimed a kiss. "She took me to that beach, led me on, knowing that her friends were going to torment me the rest of the night." Frank caught himself as if he hadn't meant to say that aloud. "I'm glad Dad found someone. I guess it's just going to take you and me a little longer."

"I'm in no hurry," said Joe but Frank couldn't say the same. Having a gun pressed to his head had made that clock tick faster. There were things he wanted to do with his life, but for now, getting back home to Bayport was the highest priority on his list.

The End