Chapter 26

Frank was slumped back in the seat in the rear of the mini-van, trying to centre his brain on the outside scenery through the windshield, rather than on his current predicament. There were two men with him, one sitting on either side of him and his hands were cuffed behind his back slowly numbing his fingers and digging into his spine. So far, they'd not laid a damaging hand on him, but he knew this dead calm wouldn't stay unbroken for long.

His thoughts kept on returning again and again to Nancy, hoping that she'd managed to escape. The longer his kidnappers' phones stayed silent, the more likely it seemed that she'd performed a Houdini act on them.

"What are you smirking at?" one of the men demanded to know.

"Nothing."

Suddenly, there came the sound of a cell phone ringing and in Frank's peripheral vision, he observed the man who had just spoken to him extract a phone from his top pocket and flick it open.

"Talk to me…" he said.

Frank's heart started to pick up speed and a dull sickening feeling settled in his lower abdomen, crouched and ready to travel up his throat. He made sure he kept his expression passive, but was desperately hoping that the caller wasn't about to impart the news that Nancy had been recaptured.

The man was listened silently to what he was being told and Frank could hear the dulled voice of the caller, but couldn't discern what was being said. Then the man swore down the phone, killed the connection and pocketed the handset again.

Frank now knew for sure that Nancy had indeed gotten away safely and all he had to do was wait for the one opportunity he needed to make his move and break out too. He started tapping his heel against the carpeted floor and his stomach settled again.

Eventually, the headlights of the van picked out the signage for the High School and they swung onto the grounds and slowly approached the building, the salt and gravel they were riding upon making a gentle crunching noise under the wheels. As they reached the front entrance, the two men suddenly made a well-practiced move. One of them pushed Frank's head down and the other gripped onto the handcuffs and yanked his arms up, forcing him onto his knees and onto the floor effectively holding him in place while they drew the car to a slow halt.

"Take care of the Janitor," one of the men said to the driver, who Frank then heard exiting the car. He then listened to a far off conversation that was being held between two male voices – he supposed it was the Janitor and the driver. He opened his mouth to shout out a warning, but the man who was holding his neck must have second guessed his intention fractionally before and a large gloved hand covered his mouth which efficiently stifled the yell. Then seconds afterwards, there was a sickening thud and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

"Cuff, gag and hide him somewhere. I don't want anyone coming across him while we're getting the memory stick," one of the men ordered loudly through the now open door. "Right, Frank Hardy, it's time for you to put your money where your mouth is."

Frank was hauled free of the car, still with his head down and his arms up his back.

"Could use a hand over here!" the man called who was still obviously struggling with the janitor problem.

"For God's sake!" one of the men muttered and Frank was pushed forward and slammed down against the hood of the mini-van, his cheek soaking up the coldness of the metal. He could now see that the janitor was lying on his front unconscious in the wet and tied hand a foot. He was a very large man – in girth, rather than height – and the driver just couldn't budge him.

"Go and help him, I'll keep Mr Hardy company," the man who was holding his arms ordered. The hand that was pressing down on his neck was suddenly absent and Frank watched as two more legs walked around the car and went to the janitor.

That was the one mistake that Frank was waiting for them to make. The man who was holding him was obviously acutely unaware that Frank was nearly double-jointed where his left shoulder was concerned. He'd always had the ability to as good as dislocate it, which allowed him to cross his wrists under his legs when bound so he could work on bindings from the front – very useful in certain situations! So if they thought that arms being yanked up his back were ever going to hold Frank Hardy in place, his kidnappers were dangerously misguided.

Frank waited until the two men were distracted with lifting the heavy janitor and then whipped his head back and jerked himself upright, connecting the back of his head with his captor's face. And then the hands were no longer holding him. Half turning, he saw the man had staggered back, but was fast recovering and preparing to come back fighting, extracting a gun from the back of his trousers.

Frank immediately turned on his pelvis, extended his leg back and attacked with the ball of his foot, rotating his hip to ensure he was extending his thrust as far as he could. The kick connected with his adversary's abdomen and the man bent forward, allowing Frank to snap his leg back so he was now facing him and finished him off with a swift high kick to the shoulder, knocking him flat. His adversary's hand hit the ground hard and the weapon clattered free, skittering some distance away.

Stepping around the man, Frank quickly kicked the gun away, watching it turning end over end until it entered some bushes.

Frank noted now that the two men had realised what was happening and were dropping the janitor and speedily coming towards him. "Come on and get me!" he thought, and licked his lips in anticipation, deciding that this time, for a change, attack was perhaps the best line of defence. He didn't know where this ruthless streak was coming from, but he quite liked it.

They split apart and started circling him, giving Frank time to size them both up. They were moving like fighters, but he could tell he perhaps might have the edge on them, although with his hands chained, it was going to be an interesting tussle.

He kept his side to them to make himself a smaller target and immediately made for the man in front of him at speed. He went into another swing kick, but this time with his left foot and did a low-line fake to the groin area of the man directly in his eye line. Immediately the man swung his arm down to block the blow and began to move in order to deliver a kick of his own, but before he could finish his move, Frank was snapping his foot up again and leaping off his supporting leg, landing a good blow with the top of his foot to the side of his adversary's head and then carrying on spinning and corkscrewing right around until his other foot connected in the same spot. Man number two was down and Frank was landing and planting his feet firmly to face the third man.

Hearing a noise behind him, Frank took a quick look and saw that the first man was now up on his feet and looking for the firearm. He'd obviously seen where it had come to rest as he was zeroing straight in on it. "I'll make sure you regret that, Mr Hardy!" the man shouted and started hunting through the foliage.

Frank decided that now was the time to run, there was no way he was going to tangle with a gun. They might need him to get the memory stick for them, but that wouldn't stop them from shooting a leg out from under him. The only problem was that the last man was blocking Frank's exit to the front gate – even if he was hesitating as to taking on the older Hardy Brother alone. Frank had proven himself a bit of a handful.

Frank made a feint to the right to make the man in front of him assume he was going to take off in that direction – sure enough, the man did indeed automatically move on that bearing. Frank immediately went left and ran at him, shoulder barging him as he passed and knocking him soundly off balance and into the trajectory of the now armed man who's hand was already raised in an attempt to get Frank in his sights. Leaping over the janitor, Frank sprinted off down the driveway, listening to the armed man shouting at his colleague to 'get out of the way'.

"This must be like déjà vu to them," Frank considered humourlessly, recalling the story Nancy told him about Joe's close escape.

And then he was hearing the pop-pop of a silencer, followed immediately by the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the asphalt between his feet, but he was covering the ground like a pro-sprinter and was so close to the main gate that he was pretty confident he was going to evade recapture – if a slug didn't get him first.

Nothing could have been further from the truth, because at that instant, the little car which had been sent after Nancy suddenly roared around the corner, moving so fast, that even if the driver had wanted to avoid hitting Frank, he wouldn't have had time to take evasive measures.

All Frank managed to do in the time he had between being on his feet and then being in free-fall was to turn his body sideways. His leg came into sharp contact with the right hand sidelight, the impact spinning him facedown into the snow-laden grass. Although it was a glancing blow Frank immediately knew he wasn't going to be getting back up. He felt a horribly familiar white hot pain emanating from his right leg and knew that he'd blown his kneecap again – that old football injury that had ended his game and resulted in an operation had come back to haunt him.

Fate was playing a cruel game with Frank Hardy.

The driver leapt from the car and ran across to deliver a kick into Frank's ribs, stealing all the air from his lungs and rotating him again and the first man, with the gun in his hand, finished things off by battering him savagely about the face and head.

The second Fenton, Con and Nancy had left the room; Joe pulled back the bedclothes and got out of bed. His lower half was already fully dressed in black clothes, having changed into them when Fenton and Con had left to find Nancy. He and Vanessa had recognised instinctively that this was the evening everything was coming to a head.

"I gotta move fast, you heard what Con said, he's going to get Anderson to come and guard the door, we don't want him walking in here halfway through," Joe said.

Vanessa was starting to stress about the whole thing, especially Joe's health. "Are you sure you're recovered enough for this?" she asked, "What about your stitches?"

Joe quickly stripped himself of his pyjama top and then carefully began easing a long sleeved t-shirt on. "You'd be surprised just how good I feel – I've been doing some pretty good acting. Hopefully my stitches will hold, but if not, I'll worry about that later."

Vanessa was dubious, but still stepped forward to give him a hand and between them they also got the black pullover over his head. He was swapping the heart monitor clip from one finger to the other as he fed his arms through the sleeves.

"I'll be okay, honestly, Van," Joe assured her again. "Those guys won't even be looking out for me. So long as I keep my head down, they won't even know I'm there. There'll really be no reason for me to get into a situation that will burst my stitches. Think of me as being Frank's curve ball!" He flashed a reassuring grin at his girlfriend. "Now get Dad's bedclothes," he said, and pulled down the blankets on his bed fully.

Between them, they made a man shape with the pillows and blankets and then made the bed up around them. Vanessa then stood back to check their work from a distance. "That's pretty convincing, actually," she declared.

"Right, come here," Joe said and Vanessa moved towards him. He took the monitor off his index finger and put it straight onto hers. The heart monitor showed that her heart was beating much faster than his had been. "Van, you gotta calm down," Joe insisted earnestly, cupping her face, "we don't want Doc Lyndsey rushing in here!"

"I'm just scared."

"I know you are, baby," he said, and gave her a quick hug. "I'm sorry – just sit on the bed and take some deep breaths." He took her by the elbows and eased her gently back onto the covers.

Vanessa did as she was told and relaxed as Joe pulled on his jacket and gloves, and finally took the backpack from the bottom of the bedside cabinet. By the time he'd finished, Vanessa's heartbeat was back to some sort of normality.

"Your car keys," he requested.

She took them from her pocket and handed them over.

Joe moved immediately to the window and slid it open. He put the backpack down on the chair and, using the seat as a step, swung one leg out over the window ledge while holding his injured side. Vanessa got up and helped him over the final hurdle until he was finally standing outside in the parking lot, and then she passed the rucksack carefully through to him and he hugged it to his chest.

"Aren't you at least a little bit frightened?" she asked.

"Terrified…" Leaning back in through the window, Joe gave his girlfriend a long kiss, "…but when did that ever stop me? Wish me luck!" he said and treated her to his special smile and a mischievous wink.

"Luck – to both you and Frank," she whispered, gave him another kiss and he was gone. She quickly slid the window closed and went back to sitting on the edge of the bed.

Two minutes later, the door opened and Officer Anderson stuck his head in. "Everything okay?" he asked.

Vanessa turned to him and put her finger to her lips. "He's asleep. He's not been so hot today," she whispered.

"Okay," he said, dropping his voice. "I'll just be out here, if you need me."

She nodded and he went back outside, closing the door. Vanessa sighed and rubbed the sweat from her brow.

The next sensation Frank was experiencing was of water filling his mouth and nose, causing him to choke and splutter. He tried to sit up and clear his airway, but was instantly aware of his knee screaming at him to stay still. He cracked his eyes open to see the face of a masked man bearing down on him with an empty tumbler in his hand from where, presumably, the water had been tipped onto his face to bring him around.

"Finally awake, huh?" he asked.

"Dammit! You again." Frank muttered, acutely aware that his left eye wasn't opening properly. The whole of the left side of his face was burning, not just his eye socket, and he could taste the unmistakable bitter coppery-ness of blood. He moved his tongue over his teeth, glad to find they were all still in situ. His jaw didn't seem to be clicking or grinding either, so he considered himself very lucky.

"You've got as smart a mouth as your brother," observed the man, moving back out of Frank's eye-line.

"You have no idea…"

Frank was now looking up at strip-lights that were so familiar, but which he hadn't seen for quite some time. Turning his head to the right, he saw lockers and was finally able to recognise that he was lying in the corridor at the front of the high school. Ironically, he was right next door to what had been Joe's locker.

"I've found the office," he heard a male voice yell and immediately he was being pulled along on the freshly waxed floor by the back of his collar. The handcuffs still holding his wrists making a loud screeching noise against the wooden floor. They reached a turn and he was pulled in that direction.

There was now an inevitability to Frank's mood. He'd come to terms with the fact that the chances of victory for him were pretty much illusory – unless Joe and Nancy had come through for him – so he decided to just go along for the ride and see how long he could drag things out, and see what developed.

As they passed the stairwell, one of the men emerged through a door further down the corridor behind Frank and joined them. "That's the way up to the roof," the man informed his companion.

Presently, Frank was being pulled into the principal's office and was now on a carpeted floor. For the first time he realised it wasn't just his face and hair that were wet, but moisture had seeped into all of his clothes – of course…the snow!

He was abandoned in the middle of the floor while the men were all busy doing other things. They must have recognised his inability to put up any more resistance and weren't bothering to keep too close an eye on him.

Frank drew his uninjured leg up and pushed himself backwards until he'd backed himself as far as the wall. He then managed to reposition himself carefully until he was half sitting up with his back supported. Those few movements exhausted him totally, but at least he could now observe proceedings.

He could see that one of the men was in the middle of setting up quite a large laptop/notebook computer on the principal's desk. Another was rummaging through a case of items that Frank couldn't yet see, but he presumed that it was probably the case of 'goodies' that Joe had described in his story. The other two were bent over the safe, turning the dial and messing about with it.

"Leave that," the man rummaging in the case said to the two who were interested in the safe. "Hardy will open it for us." He approached Frank and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck before dragging him bodily across the floor again up to the strong box.