Chapter 29

"Come on…come on…!" Joe was mumbling, mentally urging the men to get into the chopper and go. They were taking too long for his comfort, but eventually they were all aboard and it was rising before the last man even had his leg in and was picking up speed and flying away over Bayport at an angle.

Joe immediately ran out from where he'd been hiding straight to his brother's side and started hurridly unpacking the precious bag that he'd been carrying so carefully.

For a second, as he glanced at Frank's face, he thought his brother was awake, but soon realised that it was just that his eyes hadn't automatically closed and were still staring accusingly up. It made him shudder and he had to fight the urge to close them. Cold, devoid of spark, and the pupils wide, the eyes weren't recognisable as belonging to his beloved brother and it was creepy. The thugs had kept their promise that they would do far worse to Frank than what had been done to him and it felt to Joe as though he'd just been sent a message of punishment for not 'cooperating'. He started feeling irrationally somehow to blame.

He wished instantly that he hadn't seen. It was all he could do to keep the panic that was threatening to engulf him at bay. If he thought too much and allowed those feelings to envelope him, he knew he would start blarting his eyes out, but this was a time to concentrate and be calm. Swallowing down the hard lump in his throat he quickly and deliberately looked away and concentrated on the job in hand instead.

"Frank," he said. "You are one crazy son-of-a-gun! Did someone take your brain out and rattle it?" he muttered.

He pulled out some scissors from the bag and gripped Frank's t-shirt and pullover and cut straight up the front in order to expose his chest fully and then put his head down to listen for a heartbeat.

"Nothing, there's nothing!" he said, switching to autopilot to keep calm, but screaming inside, his heart beating so fast that it was doing enough of a job for the both of them.

He next moved to unpack the mobile defibulator that Vanessa had cheekily stolen from off the wall in the ER Department – right under the noses of the hospital staff. He and his father had both been shown how to use one on the Red Cross, First Aid course they'd both attended recently. He unzipped its bag and threw the flap open.

Joe was muttering to himself as a way of bypassing those morbid thoughts that were scratching away in his head.

"Good Vanessa, baby, good."

He quickly applied some contact gel to the little round pads and then attached them to Frank's skin and turned on the machine to see if there was any reading. The machine indicated that the heart wasn't showing any electical output at all – Frank was, to all intents and purposes…dead.

"Definitely nothing…"

Joe next grabbed the two paddles that were attached by wires to the unit and applied the same gel thickly to them. He then turned on the generator and charged them to the highest reading and shuffled back out of the way so he wasn't in contact with Frank – the last thing he wanted to do was electrocute himself as well.

"Okay bro, let's see if this works, brace yourself…you asked for this!"

He leaned forward, placed the paddles at an angle on each side of where Frank's heart was situated and pressed the buttons with his thumbs. There was a distinct thump of electrical noise and Frank's upper body arched up for a second and his heart lurched – showing as a blip on the machine. Joe started automatically charging them up again just in case it hadn't worked the first time. It hadn't.

"Come on Frank!"

He shocked his brother again. A crescendo of noise from the machine and the paddles, but then silence. Joe wiped his forehead quickly with the back of arm and gritted his teeth.

"You big, stubborn idiot of a brother!

He recharged the paddles and gave Frank another blast, knowing that the longer his brother was down and out, the harder it would be to bring him back in one piece, if at all! Frank jerked and his heart bleeped again, but then flatlined. Joe was seriously starting to panic now as he was recharging the paddles for the fourth time, and starting to doubt himself and his abilities – his eyes starting to swim.

"Come on Joseph Hardy, keep it together!"

He reapplied the paddles.

"Frank, are plain ignoring me, or what? FIGHT IT, YOU TOTAL JERK!" he bellowed insanely. "DON'T MESS WITH ME, FRANK!…Please, bro, don't do this to me…"

He snapped down on the buttons. And then it happened – Frank's heart beeped. Once, twice, three times…and then carried on. There was no need to shock him a fifth time!

"Huh! Perhaps I should have gotten mad and bawled at you the first time."

Joe immediately discarded the paddles and moved to Frank's head. He held his brother's nose closed, latched his mouth over his and delivered a couple of breaths to get some oxygen running around his system. That was all it took, Frank was almost immediately breathing on his own – one big gasp, followed by smaller, but strong regular breaths, not stuttery ones as he was expecting…and his eyes were now closed – as easy as that!

"Way to go, Frank!"

Joe switched the machine off and removed the little round pads from Frank's chest and then lifted him up by the shoulders and supported his head to pull him in for an embrace. He was just so filled with relief that it was an automatic, fraternalistic response.

"You've devised some way-out schemes in your time, Frank, but this one…this one…was out there with the best of 'em, man!" he whispered.

"Sorry…" Frank whispered back.

Joe pulled back. "You're awake, dude! Am I good, or what?" he asked indicating to himself, supporting his brother by one arm. "Come on, admit it – I am da bomb!"

"Awesome-rad, bro…" Frank muttered and started shivering. Then he asked: "Con…?" and Joe could swear that his brother eyes started to swim and it shocked him because Frank never showed that level of emotion. However, he didn't acknowledge the fact, preferring to allow his brother the dignity of believing he'd not noticed.

Swiftly laying Frank back down, Joe went about covering up his brother's torso again with the ruined halves of the sweater and buttoning up his jacket. "He's okay Frank, he was wearing a bullet-proof vest under his clothes." Joe assured him and then hurriedly shrugged off his own coat and tucked that one around his brother too.

Frank closed his eyes briefly, "Thank God…"

"God was certainly batting on Con's team tonight," Joe agreed and then started noticing the pain in his side and put his hand up under his shirt and pullover, it came back red with blood. "Uh-oh," he said. "Frank, we serious need to get off this roof before we both freeze to death." He got up and moved to the door, pulling his jumper up at the same time to look at his bloodsoaked bandage. "Just great!" he muttered and reached out mechanically to open the door, but there was something on the handle that made him snatch his hand back away just in the nick of time.

Joe's eyes widened at the sight of the incendiary grenade hanging there – the pin pulled so the detonator was armed, cocked and ready to explode. The only thing that was preventing this was the safety trigger lever that was still set in its closed position…for the moment, anyway!

It was suspended loosely on the door handle with a long piece of metal cord welded to the lever itself. His eyes followed the twine to a small pulley arrangement that was glued in place to the wall next to the door. It was clear that if the door was opened, the movement would activate the rachet wheel which would spin and draw the cord taut and the trigger would be pulled – arming the granade, completing the connection, and setting off a chemical reaction that would ensure it would blow up almost instantaneously.

"So not cool!"

It was a small wonder to him that the pulley device hadn't reacted already to the strong winds created by the helicopter's rotor blades! And it was also now clear as to why Batman, Robin and Batgirl hadn't appeared at the door. The gang must have pulled the same trick downstairs to prevent them from being followed.

"Okay, that's a challenge!" he admitted and returned to his brother. He dipped down and put his hand on Frank's shoulder to get his attention. "You still with me, Dude?"

Frank cracked his eyes open and nodded.

Joe grinned. "Hold tight, Frank, I gotta sort out a small problem first before I can get to the Bat-phone!"

"Be careful, Joe…"

Joe flashed a grin and returned to inspect the rachet system closely without touching it. He viewed it from all angles, but couldn't see how he could dismantle it without starting it running. He grunted in frustration and turned to look at his brother again, wracking his brain for inspiration – he really didn't think he'd be able to climb down the drainpipe again, not without breaking his neck, anyway. Finally, his eyes settled on his brother's shoes. "Frank, I'm going to steal your shoelaces," he said, stepping over him.

Joe bent and quickly untangled the ties from each of his brother's boots, assuming that the door downstairs would have the same contraption attached and he'd therefore need both. He then returned to the door.

He crouched down and ever so carefully tied one of the laces right around the grenade itself and knotted it off – ensuring that the safety catch was strapped down hard against the canister wall so it couldn't be activated by the pulley easily. He then firmly planted his feet, readied himself, paused, snatched the grenade, and then slid it as quickly as possible along the handle and yanked it off the end. The wheel was spinning almost at the instant Joe moved the bomb, and with a whooshing sound, the canister shot out of his hand and into the air until it was drawn tightly up against the rachet system with a loud clang. It made him jump, despite having expected it to make a noise.

The lace held.

Joe blew out the air he'd been holding, and then suddenly found himself in a seated position on the ground feeling decidedly sick again and the world spinning. He leaned forward to inhale some deep, steady breaths until his head began to clear and his stomach settle. Once he felt more himself, he used the handle of the door as a lever to get back up.

Returning to Frank, Joe moved to position his face just inches from his brother's to ensure he had his full attention. "Frank, I'm just going down the stairs, I won't be long. I promise I'll be back…okay?…Frank?" No response from his brother, just a vacant stare. "Hey dude, what's the matter with you? Did you understand what I just said?" Joe gave him a quick shake.

Frank nodded. "Sorry man, yeah. It's great to see you, Joe. Is Nancy down there?"

"Yeah she is – get with the programme! I wish I could take you with me, but here's just no way. I'll be back, Bro, I promise." Joe scanned his brother's face. Something was wrong, he could sense it.

"I'll hang on for Nancy, I need to speak to her…" Frank said.

"I'll tell her. I promise I will be back," Joe reiterated.

"I know you will, Joe." Frank muttered, his hand suddenly snaking out from beneath the jacket and capturing Joe's palm, clasping steadfastly for just a couple of seconds before letting go.

Not wanting to, but having no other choice, Joe returned for the last time to the door and lurched down the stairwell, now having to rely heavily on the banister for support and cupping his side – the pain he'd been able to hide in the corner of his conscious mind was now raging. He was on the fourth floor, so he seemed to be staggering down and down for an age before he finally emerged at the bottom.

He could see straight away that – as he suspected there would be – another grenade slotted onto the handle, with the same pulley device attached to the panelling on the wall next to it. There was also a surprised looking uniformed officer on the other side, who was standing rooted to the spot with his mouth hanging open. Joe recognised him as one of the men who'd been on the rota as his bodyguard.

"Stop standing there with your mouth flapping and go and find my Dad," Joe shouted, sitting heavy down on the bottom step. The man disappeared.

Joe allowed himself only a couple of seconds before he was up again. He knew that he wouldn't be in a fit state to be able to deactivate the grenade and get back up to his brother if he gave himself the luxury of an extended recharge, so he got straight down to it with Frank's other bootlace.

Fenton reached the door and tapped loudly on the window. An officer had told them that his son was sitting at the bottom of the stairwell, but he'd assumed the cop meant Frank, so it was a real jump-back shock to find that the son in question was actually Joe who he'd left back at the hospital in bed!

The younger Hardy was sitting hunched over about half way up the first staircase with his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead on his tightly clenched fists. He raised a waxen face to look back at Fenton at the sound of his father hitting the glass.

Fenton could see traces of red seeping through his son's pullover. "How on earth did you get there?" he asked, joined now by Nancy and Con – Con raised his hands in amazement.

"I came for Frank," Joe answered, crossing his arms and leaned his weight against the bannister.

"Didn't they take him with them?" Nancy asked, her face as pale as Joe's.

"No Nan, he's up on the roof and he's been asking after you. You can come through, the door's open."

Fenton looked at the handle and sure enough, the canister was gone. One of the uniformed officers was directed to summon medical help and they pushed urgently through the door.

Con gazed confounded at the grenade that was now hanging against the pulley.

"I've deactivated another on the roof as well," Joe said.

"Why didn't you just call down to my men?" Con asked, now making his way quickly up to the stairs to Joe. "They were all at the front of the building."

Joe half smiled. "And what would have been the fun in that?" he countered, not wanting to admit that the thought hadn't even occurred to him. He permitted Fenton and Con to relocate him from the steps to the floor before clasping on to his father's jacket front. "I wanted to get back up top, but I just couldn't manage it, can you tell Frank that I tried? I promised him."

"Believe me, son, if Frank is even half compus-mentus he will have worked that out for himself – look at the state of you! You just lie there, and relax," Fenton ordered gently, ruffling his hair. "You've done enough. We'll take over from here. You did a good job." He waited for the usual smart-crack remark from his youngest, but nothing was forthcoming this time. "Con, look after him, I'm going up to the roof."

"Mr Hardy…" someone said and an officer was there, with two blankets in his hands. He passed one to Con and the other across to Fenton who then took off, taking the steps two at a time after Nancy who'd already started making her way up at speed.

Con ordered two officers to go with them.

Nancy had already burst through the door before Fenton had caught up with her and he exited to find her on her knees, covering his son's face with kisses and laughing with relief. Fenton considered just how rhino-skinned he'd been in not realising that his son and Nancy had become something of an item. Under Nancy's attack, Frank was lop-sidedly smiling but also visibly trembling with the cold, the wind still harshly blowing across the roof.

Fenton saw the abandoned defibulator and guessed what Joe had been up to, shaking his head in amazement at the chances his boys took with themselves.

He hurridly moved to crouch down on the other side of his oldest and took his hand. "Junior! My god, I thought I'd lost you! Let me look at you." Fenton cast his eye quickly down Frank's body, he finally settling back on his face. "Jesus…"

"I'm okay, dad," Frank said.

"Like hell you are! Let's get you out of the wind and then we'll get you some help."

He directed the two officers to help him lift Frank. They quickly moved him to the top of the stairwell and then shut the door on the cold and covered him with the blanket. Presently, his teeth had stopped their incessent chattering and he was starting to look more comfortable, his lips no longer blue.

"Where are you hurting, Frank?" Fenton asked.

"Before I answer that, I need to ask Nancy to do something," Frank replied.

"What is it?" she asked.

He pushed something into her hand. When she looked, she discovered it was a small key. "Hoof it down quickly to the front entrance. Counting from the door, go to the ninth locker – that's Joe's old locker. Open it and then run your fingers along the top inside ridge of the door. You'll find the memory stick there. Take it to Vanessa and have her take you to her house. She's got a really powerful computer. Go and destroy Pandora."

Nancy raised her eyebrows in surprise and asked, testily: "But…didn't they get away with the memory stick?"

"They thought they did, but I created a mock-up and that's what they got. Thank God you interrupted when you did, otherwise they'd have discovered what I'd done."

Nancy sighed deeply and sat back. "I didn't want to believe what my gut instincts were screaming at me, but you planned this whole scenario, didn't you? You must have already known that the code would consist of four sets of numbers, or you wouldn't have been able to mock up a conceivable dummy key."

Frank didn't react at first, his face unmoving, but eventually he did make an admittance: "The Network knew that the code was made up of four sets of four numbers, but that's all they knew."

"You must have also known then that Professor Hope had set his students that challenge, but for some reason, you needed me on board. Why Frank?…" her eyes were swimming, "…was it all fake?"

"No!" Frank said quickly, and his eyes finally moved. "I couldn't finish the game to get the clues, it just got the better of me, Professor Hope made it a little too difficult. But I knew about your photographic memory from Bess. Gray had been pushing me to get you on board, but I fought him all the way. I hoped that being the guardian of the key would be all I'd need to do. I didn't want to involve you, it was too dangerous and I knew how you felt about the Network – but then Joe was almost killed and…" he closed his eyes, "…and…then I didn't feel I had any other choice and everything was out of control."

Frank opened his eyes again and gazed up at the ceiling, squinting against the light. "I'd intended all along to send you home after you'd completed the game, but things had progressed so far that it was impossible to stick to that but I was still confident I could keep your involvement a secret – but they second guessed my moves all the way down the line."

Silence ensued. Nancy stared down at Frank but he still couldn't look her in the eye. She turned her head on one side and looked him up and down. "Yep…you played us all like violins…"

Pained and guilty, Frank pressed Nancy's palm to his heart. "Not everything was played, not you and me, that part is real, very real." He brought her hand up to his face and kissed her fingers. "But there's little point in me trying to convince you that I wasn't manipulating you there as well." He turned to Fenton, including him in his next statement: "I'm sorry, if I'd have included you all fully, they'd have come for all of us. I thought I could keep it together, but I guess I was wrong and my actions caused real problems for everyone – but I still need Nan to go and finish things." He pulled her down until she was about in inch from his face. "Please Nancy, it's the only way I can be sure I've put everything right again. I've made such a hash of everything – of us. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

She tilted her head.

Then he drew her to him even closer until his mouth was level with her ear. "I wasn't lying, I do love you," he whispered privately and then pushed her slightly away until they were eye-to-eye again and he nodded. Finally, he dropped his hands and said: "Run like the wind, Nan."

She hesitated for just a second and then stood up and stepped over her him to get to the stairs.

Fenton watched her go.

Just a few steps down, she suddenly turned and looked back at Frank as though she wanted to say something, but then thought better of it and started running down again.

Fenton turned his attention back to his son who'd obviously decided, for whatever bizarre reason, that he was the root-of-all-evil. When, in actual fact, everyone understood his motivations and no one was laying blame for anything that had happened at his feet! It was those cowards who'd fled into the sunset on their chopper-charger who were responsible, and the Network, not Frank. He'd been forced to fight fire with fire and had been manipulated far worse than any of them and for apparently quite some months. But Fenton didn't get the opportunity to discuss this as other concerns immediately took precidence.

From the bottom of the stairs, there came the sounds of sudden pandemonium and raised voices and Fenton heard Con clearly say: "Whoa! Don't move Joe, just lie really still – you'll be okay – someone go and fetch that other medic back, right now!" Then came the sounds of heavy feet running downwards.

Fenton stood and shouted down, "what's happening?" He was able to see down the gap in the staircases to the ground floor, but the view of his youngest was blocked by officers who were gathered tightly around him.

"Don't worry Fenton, paramedics are here." Con yelled up in reply, and sure enough, Fenton spotted there was as least one medic amongst them.

Fenton looked back at Frank who had a stricken expression on his face, his eyes awash. He began whimpering and his hands moved to his head.

"Son?" Fenton asked, moving to his side again. "What is it? What's wrong."

"It's my head, it really hurts, it feels like it's exploding! I don't think I can hold on any longer." He clutched his father's arm. "I don't know who I am any more, Dad – I don't know who I am. I'm lost...Dad?"

Fenton didn't like what he son was saying, but he especially didn't like the look on his face, not one little bit. He placed a flat hand against his neck. "Son, just hold on, help is on its way, try and relax until they get here…Frank, come on son, don't do this, stay with me, look at me…Frank?...Frank?"

But Frank wasn't hearing any more, his mental shutters had finally come thundering down, crashingly blocking everything out. Fenton wasn't getting any counteraction out of him now, Frank's eyes had gone into lock-down – all that remained were Frank's own thoughts, regimenting into troops and readying themselves for the war that had been destined to be fought on the battlegrounds of his mind.