J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you for reading and reviewing! The next chapter will be out tomorrow. God bless!
October 5 – Thursday
It was a long night of waiting and watching. Ream had come back to the boat and was sitting on the deck. He didn't move all the rest of the day. The good news was that the rest of them didn't show up and try to leave. The castaways had done some scouting around and had determined that Tony was being held at the cabin by the other three, but they hadn't dared to get close enough to see if he was all right. They posted two sets of guards—one to watch the boat and one to watch the cabin—and make sure that nothing changed while they tried to figure out a plan. Chet, Phil, and Biff were watching the cabin, and Frank and Joe were posted by the boat.
It had taken some persuasion for the Hardys to convince their friends to let them stay on guard together. Given the Hardys' recent disagreement, the others had thought it might be best for them to be split up. However, Frank and Joe had promised there would be no more scenes like that, and the others had agreed to let them stay near the beach.
They were supposed to take turns sleeping, but neither of them could get to sleep. So they sat there through the long watches of the night, mostly silent. It wasn't until the horizon began to turn gray with the first hint of dawn that either of them said anything of substance.
"I thought morning would never come," Joe said. He was sitting with his back against the trunk of a palm tree.
"The earth has a habit of continuing to spin, no matter what's happening on it," Frank commented. "How's your arm?"
"It's stiff, and it hurts. A lot. How about your arm?"
Frank glanced down at the arm he had broken. "You know, I hardly even think about it anymore. Phil did a good job setting it."
Joe shifted his position, thinking about how Frank's accident had really been the start of their disagreements. "I'm sorry I hit you," he said.
"I deserved it," Frank replied.
"Well, neither of us would win any good behavior awards," Joe said with a shrug. "And I'm sorry about it."
"Me, too," Frank agreed. "I know we've both said several times that we were going to get our respective acts together. At this point, I'm starting to wonder if we even can."
"Yeah." Joe shook his head. "It would be easier if you weren't so annoying." He chuckled.
Frank grinned ruefully in the dark. He knew Joe was only joking, but the joke hit close to home.
"I was kidding," Joe said when Frank didn't respond.
"I know," Frank said. "You know, it would be even easier if I was less sensitive."
"Eh, that wouldn't be a problem if I wasn't always digging at you." Joe leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. "What it really comes down to is that we haven't argued about a single important thing since we've been here, and it's really all just because we've been tired and miserable and scared."
Frank nodded slowly as he let his brother's words sink in. "I think you're right. I'd add another thing, too. We're used to being able to get out of any scrape we get into, and to be in the middle of one that we can't do anything about…"
"It's frustrating to find out that you're only human, after all."
"I always knew that," Frank replied.
"I'm not so sure I did. About me, that is," Joe added for clarification.
"Well, I suppose if we're being that honest, I did have a higher opinion of myself than I deserved. And you're right. It's not much fun not being able to live up to even my own expectations."
Joe clicked his tongue. "Yeah, well, all this new-found humility isn't boding very well for getting through this current scrape. I'd even be fine with it if they left us here, just as long as they leave all of us."
"I think…" Frank started to say, but he stopped as movement down on the beach caught his eye. It was still dark, but the morning twilight was beginning, and Frank could just make out a figure walking toward the cruiser.
"You'd better stay right there, Weston," Ream's voice came through the darkness.
"You must be crazy," Weston retorted. "Do you really want to be here when he gets here?"
"We've got a good thing here," Ream said. "We're not leaving until we cool off. Now get back up to that cabin. I'll shoot anybody who tries to get on this boat."
"Sounds like there's trouble in paradise," Joe commented in a low voice.
"Yeah." Frank chewed on his lip. "Didn't you say that it was Longheim and Weston who wanted to get out of here while they still could?"
"Yeah, with us as hostages." Joe tried to study his face, but it was still too dark. "You've got an idea?"
"Maybe. It's not a very good idea, but with a lot of luck, it might get Tony away from them."
HBNDHBNDHB
Most of the night had been spent in a little hangar in a private airstrip. An airplane that didn't look big enough to get across the ocean to Ned was sitting in the middle of the hangar, but much to the captives' relief, the plane had only sat there. Apparently, Brock's pilot wasn't there, and he was having some trouble getting hold of him on the phone. The situation was putting Brock in a worse mood as the night wore on, but he was so focused on finding his pilot that he was ignoring his prisoners. His companions or bodyguards or whatever they were—their prisoners weren't able to determine which, although they learned that the men's names were Ryan and Clay—also didn't seem to be paying much attention, although if either captive tried to move from the spot where they were directed to stay, the men would instantly order them to sit back down.
That had left Nancy and Ned free to talk without interruption, at least. They had spent most of the time speculating on what, exactly, was going on. Brock seemed afraid that someone was trying to kill him. Yet, at the same time, he was suddenly afraid to go to law enforcement, despite the fact that he had already supposedly told everything he knew. It all added up to him still having more to hide. The two things that bothered Nancy most were the unknown person who may have been trying to kill Brock and how Dallas' fate fit into all this. They didn't know of anyone left who could have been behind either of these things, and they certainly didn't know why anyone would be.
After puzzling over it for a while, Nancyhad advised that they should get some sleep. It didn't look like they would have any opportunities for escape as long as they were in the hangar, and they needed to be alert for when an opportunity did arise. Nancy was more used to adventures like this, and so she had learned to set aside her worries and sleep under almost any circumstances. Sleep didn't come so easily for Ned, so while Nancy was resting her head against his shoulder, he was still awake, keeping an eye on their captors.
It must have been nearly dawn before the pilot came lumbering in, clearly not entirely sober. For an instant, Brock seemed relieved to see him, but when he noticed the man's condition, he became even more livid than ever.
"What is this?" he burst out, startling Nancy awake. "How are you supposed to fly the plane like this?"
"Oh, I can fly a plane," the pilot said, slurring his words slightly. "It's landing it that's going to be a little tricky." He started laughing.
Brock threw his hands up in disgust. "This is just great! You don't know how to fly a plane, do you, Ryan?"
"If I did, I would have said something before now," Ryan replied. "I want out of here just as bad as you do."
"Whazza matter?" the pilot protested. "I came all the way up here, and you don't even want me to fly your plane?"
"Oh, shut up." Brock began pacing up and down as he evidently tried to think what to do. Then he turned abruptly on Nancy and Ned. "You! How many people know about the house where we found you?"
"Quite a few people in law enforcement do," Nancy replied. "I don't know about the people you're so afraid of."
"Can't you get it through your head that that is not a comfort?" Brock snapped at her. "If the police catch me here, they'll either send me back to the U.S. and there'll be a bunch of media coverage and a whole crowd of reporters there to meet me, except one of them isn't going to be a reporter, or they'll assume I must have killed Dallas and put me up for murder."
"Who did kill Dallas?" Nancy asked.
"If it wasn't you two, then it must have been him. Or one of his men."
"And who's that?" Nancy pressed.
Brock pretended not to hear her as he continued to loudly lament the situation. Then he turned toward Nancy again. "What do you know about law enforcement here, anyway? You're an American."
"I'm a private detective," Nancy said. "We're trying to solve this case. If you'd cooperate with us, maybe we could catch whoever it is that's after you."
Brock snorted in derision. "Or he'll have me killed before any of you can get close to him. No thanks."
"They'll take every precaution to keep you safe if you just go to the law," Nancy insisted.
"Yeah, well, I don't have any proof that this guy is after me, so would they even believe me?"
Something about the way Brock spoke reminded Nancy of something. She furrowed her brows and stared at him in surprise rather than answering.
Her stare discomfited Brock. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"It's nothing," Nancy replied, knowing that she was in no position to reveal what she had just realized. Yet whether she said anything or not, she knew now that she and Ned were in a much more dangerous position than she had suspected.
Clearly, she didn't convince him. Brock reached down and grabbed her arm, forcing her to her feet and shaking her. "What is it? What are you thinking?"
"Let go of her!" Ned also jumped to his feet and tried to intervene. Instantly, Ryan and Clay had their guns out and pointed at him.
There had been a momentary pause as everyone took in what was happening. Then Brock continued shaking Nancy, although he didn't seem to care about getting any answers any longer. He smacked her hard on the face, breaking her lip open.
Ned decided that Brock's lackeys wouldn't risk shooting him when he was so close to their boss. He jumped forward and wrestled the actor to the ground, forcing him to let go of Nancy in the process. His gamble was correct, and rather than shooting, Ryan and Clay set their guns aside and tried to pull them apart.
"Ned, stop!" Nancy pleaded, but to little avail.
The two lackeys were able to overpower Ned, and they held him down while Brock wriggled out of his grasp. The actor's face was flushed with fury and he began savagely kicking Ned while his friends held him down to keep him from defending himself.
Nancy cast around for something she could use to intervene. She spotted a large wrench lying on the ground and grabbed it. She whacked Brock hard in the back with it, and he stumbled forward. Clay reached to try to steady his boss, loosening his grip on Ned enough for Ned to pull his arm away from him. Brock, meanwhile, had turned all his attention on Nancy and had grabbed her by the throat. Ryan held grimly onto Ned, while Clay grappled to correct his mistake in letting go of him. Suddenly, a shot brought everyone to a standstill. Ned looked up and saw that the pilot had caught up one of the guns and fired it into the air.
"All right, let go of her," he ordered the actor, who still had Nancy in a stranglehold. "Even when I'm drunk, I don't trolerate…tolerate this kinda thing."
Slowly, Brock released his hold on Nancy, who fell to her knees, coughing. He stepped toward the pilot, holding his hand out. "Hand over the gun, Earl. You're not doing yourself any favors right now."
"You jes' stop," the pilot warned him. "I came up here to fly a plane, not kill anybody, an' since you don't want me to fly the plane, I'll be heading back, but I'm thinking these people'd like to come with me."
"Uh, yes, we would like that better than staying here," Ned told him.
"Then come on."
Ryan and Clay had been obliged to let Ned go, and so Ned hurried over to where Nancy was and helped her up, quickly moving her off to the side since he didn't trust either Earl's aim or that he wouldn't shoot. Brock was positively seething by this time, clenching and unclenching his fists. Suddenly, he darted forward. Earl could have shot, but he didn't, and Brock grabbed the gun. There was a struggle and the gun went off. While everyone else was distracted, Ned pulled Nancy behind some barrels.
The struggle didn't last long. The bullet hadn't hit anyone, and Brock ripped the gun out of Earl's hands. Then he aimed the weapon at Earl.
"Stop!" Clay warned him. "How do you suggest we fly out of here without a pilot? Flap our arms?"
Brock scoffed. "Some pilot."
"I'll agree, he's not much," Clay said, "but he knows how to fly a plane, which is better any of the rest of us can do."
Brock reluctantly lowered the gun. "All right. Where did those other two go?"
"They must just be hiding in here," Ryan replied. "I'll close the door, and then they can't get out for sure."
He ran to the door, which Nancy and Ned had a clear view of. If he had turned his head, he would have seen them. However, something outside seemed to interest him more. He glanced out the door and then he did a double-take before running back to Brock and the others.
"We've got some cars coming," he reported. "It could be the cops."
Brock let out a stream of curses. "Find those two! We might need some hostages."
Nancy was holding her hand pressed over her mouth as she tried to suppress her coughing. Ned was looking around wildly for some way to escape. There was the man-door which they had come in through and which Ryan had intended to close, but there was no way to it without being seen. The only other way out was through the hangar door, which was closed. Then, too, there was Earl. Whatever else he had done, he had tried to help them. They couldn't just leave him here.
"Ned," Nancy said, pointing toward a desk about thirty feet away from them. A telephone was sitting on it.
"Hopefully that one's connected," Ned whispered. There were several open spaces to get across to reach the phone, but there were hiding places here and there. With a little luck and a distraction, it might be possible to reach the phone. "Do you think you could talk well enough to call for help?"
"I think so," Nancy replied. "What are you going to be doing?"
"One of us is going to have to distract them."
"Ned."
"You heard them. They want hostages. Dead hostages aren't going to do them any good. It'll be fine."
That wasn't all that consoling to Nancy, but there was no time to continue arguing. Brock and Ryan were already beginning to prowl around and search while Clay was guarding Earl. Ned picked up some bolts that were lying on the floor and hurled one of them toward the far side of hangar, where it clattered softly on the floor. It was enough for Brock and Ryan to hear and they headed in that direction. Clay also had looked in the direction where the bolt had fallen, and so Nancy took her chance. She darted from her hiding place to a tool cart that provided the next bit of shelter on the way to the phone.
Ned watched her before he made his next move. He knew he could only distract the others so long. He threw another one of the bolts, buying Nancy a few more seconds as she made her second dash. She still had one more space to clear before she made it to the phone. Ned attempted to throw one more bolt to another corner of the hangar.
Brock and Ryan started heading toward it, but Clay saw through the ruse. "Hey!" he shouted. "They're not over there! Behind those barrels!"
Nancy froze as she heard that, and she peeked out to see Clay running toward the barrels where Ned was hiding. Ryan had also abandoned chasing the bolts to make a rush at him. Nancy knew she had only seconds to get help. She rushed across the last few yards to the desk, pulling the phone down the floor as she reached it. She already knew that New Zealand's counterpart to 911 was 111, so she began dialing it. There was the possibility that the car Ryan had spotted really was police, which made calling them not entirely necessary. At the same time, Nancy didn't want to take that chance. And even it was the police, it would be helpful to them to know exactly what was going on inside. She heard a loud clattering and crashing and several shouts, and tried not to think about what was happening to Ned. The phone rang once, and then Nancy was grabbed by her arm and hauled to her feet. She let out a cry of surprise and dropped the phone.
"I should have figured you'd be headed over here," Brock hissed in her ear, pressed a gun into her back. "If you call out, you're dead."
"Are you crazy?" Nancy asked, although she kept her voice down.
Rather than answering, Brock picked up a remote control with two buttons from the desk. Then he pulled Nancy over to where Earl was standing, looking confused and a little dazed as he watched Ned struggle against Ryan and Clay.
"Can you get that plane off the ground?" Brock asked Earl.
"Oh, so now you want me to fly the plane?" Earl retorted.
"Only if you can do it without getting us all killed."
"I never got killed flying a plane yet," Earl said before breaking into a fit of giggles.
"Wonderful," Brock said dryly. "Now get in that plane. We're getting out of here."
"Whaz'bout Clay 'n Ryan?" Earl asked.
"They can take care of themselves. Come on."
"I don't wanna leave 'em high and dry."
Brock pressed the gun harder into Nancy's back. "If you don't get in that cockpit now, I'll shoot her."
"Tha's gratitude for you," Earl grumbled as he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and started toward the plane. "Try to be a gennleman and get it held against you."
Nancy tried to struggle, but Brock smacked her hard enough to stun her. He drug her up into the plane and pressed one of the buttons on the remote. The big hangar door began to open.
"This is never going to work," Nancy managed to protest.
"I'd rather die trying," Brock retorted.
HBNDHBNDHB
Phil, Chet, and Biff listened as Frank outlined his plan to them. It was simple enough, but that was no guarantee that it would work. They all had their reservations, but Phil was especially outspoken in disapproving of it. Fortunately, they had all left off standing watch and had found a spot well away from either the cabin or the beach, as their discussion of it didn't tend toward being quiet.
"I don't see how getting another one of us captured is going to help anything," Phil insisted. "That's all that this would amount to."
"I don't think so," Frank replied. "It's a risk, for sure. That's why I'm not saying we should all go in. But Longheim and Weston want to get off this island before their boss or whoever they think is coming gets here. They're not especially interested in us. Joe heard that himself. So basically, we all want the same thing: to get these guys off this island. I might be able to persuade them to work with us on this one."
"Okay, and how do we make sure they don't double-cross us?" Phil asked.
"Because they're not going to get what they want until we're out of their reach," Frank explained. "The first part of the agreement is that they let Tony go. Until that happens, we don't do anything, and once we're all out of their grasp, we can avoid being captured again. I don't think they'll try too hard, anyway, since they mostly want to get away from here."
"But they'll never go for it," Phil insisted. "If they let Tony go, they won't have anything to hold over our heads to make sure we cooperate with them."
"Why wouldn't we cooperate?" Joe interjected with a shrug. "We want these guys out of here as bad as they want to be out of here, and I don't think they'll have too hard of a time making them understand that. They don't need to hold anything over us."
"I still don't like it," Phil maintained.
"Let's vote on it," Frank said. "Those in favor?"
He and Joe immediately raised their hands. The other three hesitated briefly, and then Biff and Chet each timidly raised a hand. Phil sighed and shook his head.
"All right," he said finally. "I guess we've got to try something."
HBNDHBNDHB
George leaned forward in her seat as the car wound up the hill. The last eighteen hours had been probably some of the most insane in her life, but she wasn't ready to start processing all that just yet. She and Bess had spent most of yesterday afternoon trying to get back to the car, with George letting Bess lean against her as she hopped on her one good foot. Progress was slow, and when Nancy and Ned didn't catch up to them, they knew that something must have happened to their friends. By the time they reached the car, they were both exhausted and miserable, and they still had to drive out since their phones didn't have coverage out in this area. Fortunately, once they were able to contact the police, the authorities took the whole situation very seriously. Unfortunately, they still had to track down where Nancy and Ned might have been taken. They had tracked down another property owned by Devin Reynolds, and so they had headed there to check it out. Bess had gone to the hospital to have her ankle taken care of, but George had successfully pleaded to go along with the police.
Now, as they were on their way, they had just gotten two disturbing reports. First, a small plane had been observed flying out of the property. Then, barely three minutes later, the emergency dispatcher reported that a call had come in from that GPS location but no one had been on the line. George was impatient to arrive, but all her impatience didn't make them arrive any sooner.
Just as they were pulling up to what looked like a hangar—the report of the airplane might have influenced George in that direction—an officer ran up to their car. The driver rolled the window down, and the officer gave a quick report.
"We've got two suspects inside. They say they have a hostage, but they're willing to surrender for a plea deal. According to them, they've got information on a human trafficking ring."
"These have to be the same guys we're after then," George said, leaning forward. "But they've only got one hostage?"
"That's what they say," the officer replied.
Much to George's annoyance, she wasn't included in the discussion of how to handle the situation. She understood why, but she was eager to get answers and she wished the police would just agree to the men's demands.
It didn't take them as long to make up their minds as George had feared. If the suspects were willing to give up without a fight, then the police were willing to give them a chance. George really didn't care whether they were making a deal with the men or not. The only thing she cared about was when the suspects were in custody and she was told she could go inside. She found Ned lying on the floor with one of the officers standing by him.
"Ned! What did they do to you?" George asked, noting the cuts and bruises on his face.
Ned tried to sit up, but was sternly warned against it by the officer.
"I'm okay," he assured her. "But Nancy…"
"Where is she?"
HBNDHBNDHB
It wasn't until now that the castaways realized that they knew the island better than they thought. They were able to find vantage points from which they could watch every move the criminals made without being seen themselves, and so they were able to determine the whereabouts of each of them. Ream was still standing guard on the boat, not even letting his companions aboard it. Ingram and Weston were roaming about the island, evidently searching for the boys. Only Longheim remained at the cabin with Tony. That fit perfectly for Frank's plan. Longheim seemed the most reasonable of the men, and so Frank by far preferred to deal with him.
Joe had wanted to be the one to try to negotiate, but Frank refused to allow it. The other boys supported Frank as the delegate, and so Joe had to be content to accompany Frank just to the edge of the clearing and then keep out of sight while he watched for any of the other criminals to approach.
"You've got the signal if you see any of them coming?" Frank asked before he headed into the clearing.
Joe nodded. "A short, sharp whistle isn't too hard to get straight. Too bad none of us are versed enough in bird calls."
Frank chuckled. "They always see through that in the movies, anyway." He was about to continue on but then he stopped himself, feeling that he ought to say something. He knew that they had already talked about it and mutually apologized, but he was so ashamed of his own behavior the day before that he didn't feel that what had been said was quite sufficient. Yet at the same time, he couldn't think what more to say.
Joe guessed what his hesitation was about. "Hey, Frank, it's okay. I totally overreacted yesterday. If you can forgive me for belting you like that, I can definitely forgive anything you've done."
"Okay," Frank said. "I just don't want that kind of thing to become a habit, if it hasn't already."
"Well, habits can be broken," Joe replied.
"I hope so." Frank took a deep breath. "All right. I'll be back."
"You'd better."
With those parting words, Frank stepped out into the clearing. He walked about halfway across it and then called, "Longheim?"
A moment later, Longheim was at the door, training a gun at him. "What do you think you're doing?"
"If I had a white flag, I'd be carrying it," Frank replied. "I'm here to negotiate a truce."
"A truce?" Longheim looked around suspiciously, evidently expecting a trap of some kind. "All right. Get inside and I'll hear what you have to say."
He backed up into the doorway and let Frank through. Once he was inside, Frank saw Tony sitting on the floor against the wall. There was a bandage wrapped around his right hand. His face was flushed, but he gave Frank a questioning look.
"Are you okay/" Frank asked.
"Relatively," Tony replied. "What are you doing here?"
"I want to talk about a truce." Frank turned back to Longheim. "We've got to make this quick. I don't know how long it will be before your friends come back."
"Then start talking," Longheim told him.
"We know that you just want to leave the island," Frank said. "And we don't think you care very much what happens to any of us."
"That's right."
"Weston thinks the same, doesn't he?" Frank went on.
"That's what he says."
"You don't trust him?"
Longheim shrugged. "Would you?"
"This truce is going to have to be based on that much trust, at least," Frank said. "You see, we want two things. First, we want you to let Tony and now me go. Second, we want you to leave the island, too. Since we can all agree on the second one, we might help you do it if you do the first."
Longheim frowned as he stared at him. "How can you help us leave? You want to start a full-out fight with Ream and Ingram or something?"
"Not particularly. But there are six of us. If you and Weston join up with us, then that'll be eight. We could capture them. They wouldn't expect all of us to be working together."
"No, but how do you suggest capturing them without just having a big fight?"
"We could corner Ingram while he's out looking for us. I know a place that would work. Then either you or Weston could get the drop on him. That would just leave Ream. I've got a plan for how we could capture him, but we'd need your help. You see, we have a raft that we could use to get around the other side of the cruiser after it gets dark. We'll get him to come over to the side and then pull him in. You and Weston can take the cruiser back then and get out of here."
"And what are you going to do with Ingram and Ream?"
"We'll have to keep them here. It's not ideal, but once they're captured, they won't be as big a problem for us."
"So you're just going to keep them as pets?"
"If you want to take them with you, it's fine with me," Frank said.
"No, that's fine. You can have them." Longheim frowned thoughtfully. "It sounds like Weston and me would be coming out on top in this. How do we know you'd hold up your end?"
"Because we want you gone. It's bad enough to be stuck on this island, without being stuck here with all of you. But it you really want to do more for us, you could always promise to send help for us."
Longheim chuckled. "No way."
Frank nodded. "I didn't think so. We'll take what we can get."
"And what if I say we can handle Ream and Ingram by ourselves?"
"Maybe Ingram, but Ream has a pretty good position on that boat," Frank said. "The only way you could do it would be to sneak on board after dark, which would mean you'd have to swim and make a lot of noise. He'd be waiting for you on the deck with a gun. On the raft, you might be able to pull him into the water, like we're planning, but you wouldn't be able to reach if you were swimming. And before you say you could use the raft without us, you'd have to find it. We have it hidden, and we'll destroy it if you don't agree to this."
"Hmm." Longheim chewed his lip. "It does sound like a solid plan. I'll have to think about it."
"No," Frank said. "Tony and I walk out of here now, or it's all off. No second chances. If you want to think about the rest of it, fine. You can signal us that you agree by firing a gun three times in a row. We'll hear it. But you fulfill the first half now or you won't get the chance to think the rest over."
"I could hold the two of you hostage and force your friends to cooperate," Longheim said.
"We all agreed that they wouldn't do it. You would have proven we couldn't trust you, so they wouldn't know that they weren't really just helping you take off with Tony and me, and that's definitely not what we want."
Longheim nodded again. "Okay. Get out of here, then. Both of you. I'll talk to Weston and let you know."
For a moment, Frank hesitated. He had thought he could convince Longheim, but he hadn't expected it to be this easy. For a moment, he wondered if this was a trap of some kind. Then his better sense caught up to him and he realized he couldn't waste this chance. He helped Tony up and the two of them headed outside.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Frank asked Tony in a low voice.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Tony replied, although the way he held his bandaged hand didn't support the assertion.
"Then let's get to cover." Frank grabbed him by the elbow and propelled him quickly to where Joe was hiding.
"That didn't take as long as I thought it would," Joe said as they reached him.
"Me neither," Frank agreed, looking back suspiciously.
"I think I understand why Longheim agreed so easily," Tony said. "But let's get farther away before we talk about it."
Neither Hardy was about to argue with that, and so they hastened back to the agreed meeting spot with the other castaways.
"What happened to your hand?" Joe asked while they were still walking.
"Ream threw a knife at me," Tony replied, a little hesitantly. He was still a bit squeamish thinking about it. "It hit me in the palm. Longheim disinfected it and I don't think it's going to get infected, but…I can't really move my ring finger or little finger now."
"Great," Frank muttered wryly.
"I shouldn't have left you behind," Joe said, feeling wretched about the situation. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, it's okay," Tony said. "I mean, who knows what they would have done to you. From what I heard, I think Ingram and Ream are the really dangerous ones. I doubt they'll cut us any slack if they catch up with us again. Or did they already? You guys both look like you've been in a fight."
Joe ducked his head and Frank's face reddened.
"Let's just say the last twenty-four hours haven't been some of our proudest moments, for either of us," Frank said.
When they reached the meeting spot, their friends had already gathered there. Tony repeated what he had told the Hardys so far and then he added, "They were talking about someone else coming to the island. I got the impression that he was the big boss of whatever they're up to. Longheim and Weston seem scared of him. I think Longheim was willing to let me go either to defy the boss or because he didn't want me to be killed."
"Either way is good news for us," Chet said. "If Longheim doesn't want to kill us or there's a divide between them all, then we've got a better chance of not getting killed."
"Yeah, but if this big boss is on his way here and he wants us dead, that's not good news," Biff replied.
"Did you hear this boss's name?" Frank asked.
Tony shook his head. "Sorry, no."
"More to the point, do you know when he's coming?" Joe asked. "Or whether these guys are involved with Dain and that captain?"
"I don't think they know for sure when he's coming. It sounds like it could be any time," Tony replied. "And yes, these guys are in with the guys who tried to kill us."
"None of this sounds like good news to me," Phil said. "The only good thing about it is that they don't have any of us as a hostage now. What's the plan? Are we just going to try to hide until they leave?"
Frank looked down at the ground as everyone turned to him. "I think it would be best if we keep up our end of the bargain and try to capture Ingram and Ream before this boss gets here. If Longheim and Weston can be brought over to our side, we should try, and at the very least, having two of these guys out of the way would be to our advantage. But that's a decision that we're all going to have to make. The thing is, I'm resigning as leader."
"What?" Chet protested. "You can't do that. We need a leader right now."
"Phil could do a better job than me," Frank replied.
"Oh, hold on." Phil shook his head. "I wouldn't have any idea what I was doing."
"Sure, you would," Joe told him. "You'll do just fine. It's not like it's even a position with any power. You just have to make the final decision if they rest of us can't agree, and you're probably the clearest thinker we have here."
Phil half-grinned. "You'd think by now you guys would know me better than that."
"Yeah, well, by now you guys should have seen enough to realize I should stick to just solving mysteries," Frank replied.
There was more debate for a few minutes, but when he saw that Frank was absolutely determined to give up his position, Phil reluctantly agreed to accept it in his place. That brought them back to focus on what their next move needed to be. They agreed that they should go along with their side of the bargain with Longheim, which meant that they first needed to make a plan for capturing Ingram.
While they were still working on that, Joe heard a rustling in the brush behind them. He signaled the others not to give any sign that they had heard it, but any more sneaking around than that was unnecessary, as the person making the noise stepped out into sight.
"Katina!" several of the castaways said at once, hurrying toward her.
She smiled shyly as the boys told her how relieved they were to see her. They didn't think she would understand a word of it, but they hoped she would understand the tone.
HBNDHBNDHB
Callie was trying not to think about how she could be free right now. She had heard the police searching right outside the secret panel. She had even heard Sam Radley's voice, and she had wanted to call for help, but she hadn't. She was still reeling from the assertion that Frank was still alive and her captors knew where he was. Maybe they had just said that to keep her quiet and mess with her head. Or maybe it was true. She couldn't lose her chance of finding out, even if it meant giving up a chance to be rescued.
So she had kept silent. She didn't even wish that they would be found in spite of her silence, since she thought that would probably keep these men from telling anything they knew. Eventually, the sounds of the search ended, and Callie's captors had brought her out of the hiding place. There must have still been police around—Callie thought she could hear them—but her captors managed to elude them. Now they were making their way through the wooded area around the old factory in the early evening darkness. Obviously, they couldn't get back to their car, Callie reasoned, so they had to go on foot. She wondered how far they would have to walk.
"Where is Frank?" she finally dared to ask.
"Quiet!" Number One hissed at her.
The venom in his tone frightened Callie, but she conquered her fright enough to say, "But you promised you'd tell me if I cooperated."
"I promised I wouldn't tell you if you didn't cooperate," the man retorted. "I never said I'd tell you if you did."
Callie took in a breath as she realized that she had made a huge mistake. She stopped moving and dug her heels into the ground to make it harder for the men to pull her along. They tried anyway, but she fell to her knees rather than taking another step.
"We'll drag you if you don't walk," Number One threatened her.
"I don't care," Callie retorted. "You'll have to tell me the truth, or I'll start screaming. We're not so far away that the police won't hear."
Number One worked his jaw, as if weighing the possibilities. Number Two remained silent; clearly, he didn't have any decision-making power in any of this.
"All right," Number One said finally. "Your boyfriend is alive."
A thrill ran through Callie so that she could barely ask, "What about the others?"
"I thought you wanted to know where he was."
Callie only hesitated a second or two. She obviously couldn't press her luck with this man, or she might not learn anything at all. If she could only find Frank, then maybe she could learn what had happened to the other boys. "Yes, yes. Where is he?"
Number One dug into his pocket and took out a slip of paper which he dropped into Callie's hand. It was much too dark to read it, and so Callie could only hope that it really did have the location written on it. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that this was all a trick, that she had wasted her chance for rescue for nothing. This was just another cruel attempt to buy her silence.
Only it didn't matter now. Either she had the location now or she never would have it. Once these men didn't need her for a hostage anymore, they wouldn't tell her anything, and if she let them take her any farther away, she might never have another chance to escape. Maybe she didn't have a chance now. But maybe she could at least get that location to someone who could do something about it. She clenched her fist around it and prayed she was about to do the right thing. Then she screamed—a long, loud, piercing scream.
It startled her captors and they let go of her. Somehow, Callie had the presence of mind to run. She heard the men curse, but from somewhere back towards the factory, she heard people shouting. Maybe…maybe…
Then there were several gunshots. Suddenly, something struck Callie in the back and she fell forward.
HBNDHBNDHB
Jerry had remained near the factory all day. Sam had tried to persuade him to go with Iola, but Iola's parents were there. They would be more than capable of taking care of her. Jerry would be more use helping in the search for Callie. He had had to stay with Sam to make sure he didn't get himself into any trouble. Once the police and FBI involved had decided that there was no one inside, they had switched to scouring the woods. All day had gone by and they hadn't found a thing. Now it was getting dark.
"We're not going to find her, are we, Mr. Radley?" Jerry asked.
"It would have been better if we could have found her in the daylight," Sam replied.
"They must be completely out of the area by now," Jerry said dismally.
"I don't see how. The area's sealed off. They can hide, but they can't get out entirely."
The autumn night was cold, and Jerry shivered. He hadn't brought a heavy enough jacket for this. "After what happened to the other guys, Callie and Iola are the only ones left of my high school friends."
"Just focus on searching, Jerry," Sam advised him.
They had barely started walking again when they were startled by a scream from somewhere up ahead. Jerry jumped and then he started running toward the sound. He could hear Sam running behind him. Then there were several gunshots.
"Stay with me, Jerry!" Sam told him.
Sam might have been the older of the two, but Jerry didn't actually have to slacken his pace at all to keep from outdistancing him. Other members of the search party were also converging on the area. When they had reached about the spot where Jerry thought the scream and the shots had come from, he stopped. It was too dark to see much more than shadows.
"Callie?" he called.
There was no response, but Jerry continued walking, calling Callie's name every now and then. Then, finally, he heard a muffled groan.
"Callie?" he called again.
There was once again no response, but he and Sam ran toward the original sound. A moment later, they saw a figure lying on her face on the ground.
"Callie!" Jerry skidded onto his knees next to her.
"Careful, Jerry," Sam advised him. Then he shouted, "We need paramedics over here!"
Callie groaned and moved her head so that her face was no longer burrowed into the ground. "Frank," she mumbled softly.
"It's okay, Callie," Jerry told her. "Just hang on."
Callie moved her right hand toward him.
"Just hold still," Sam said. "We'll have help here in a second."
"No, Frank," Callie said, desperation in her voice. She pushed her hand at Jerry again.
Jerry took her hand, wondering if she was delirious and thought he was Frank. He realized then that her hand was clenched in a fist. As soon as her hand was in his, she released her grasp, and Jerry felt something fall into his hand. He fumbled for his cell phone which he had dropped onto the ground, its flashlight still on, and he turned the beam onto the object in his hand. It was a small slip of paper with coordinates written on it: N28.32, W174.95.