Hardy Boys - Case 04 - The Lazarus Plot

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Chapter 1

"GOT you!" FRANK HARDY smiled grimly. Once again, the older of the two Hardy

boys had made a capture. In this case, the capture was a fish.

Rushing water came up to the top of his hip high boots as he braced himself against the

current of the Allagash River. Above the tall pines on both banks of the river, the early

fall sky was a dazzling blue. Frank felt a million miles away from the world of crime

fighting and danger in which he and his brother, Joe, lived-and had nearly died. The

fanatic followers of the Rajah and his Cult of Crime had done their best to fit Frank and

Joe for matching coffins.

The Hardys had survived, however, and decided that a vacation was definitely in order.

They'd packed their fishing and camping gear into

Joe's latest pride and joy, a 1958 station wagon complete with wood paneling, which he'd

lovingly reconditioned.- Next stop, the Maine north woods, for two weeks of peace,

quiet, and fishing.

"Whoa, big fella," Frank muttered as his fishing rod began to bend. He let out some

line as the fish fought to escape. From the feel of the line, the fish was a big one. Then he

saw it leap into the air-a trout!

Just the right kind of adventure, he thought. Trout give you a challenge, put up a fight,

and don't carry guns.

He fought the fish on his hook, letting out the line, then reeling it in, bringing the fish

ever closer to his net. Already, he could picture it grilling over the campfire.

This is just what we need, he thought. Two weeks without having to look over our

shoulders. Two weeks without racing against time to head off some disaster. Two weeks

without mayhem, mystery, or murder. He grinned to himself. But will Joe be able to last

two weeks without girls to chase?

His smile faded as he thought about Joe, back in town buying supplies. Frank had

always kidded his brother about belonging to the "Girl-of the-Week Club." But he knew

that Joe had really and truly loved only one girl-Iola Morton. Then terrorists had bombed

the Hardys' car, and Iola had disappeared in a fireball. It looked as if Joe

was never going to get serious about another girl again. Would he ever get over it, Frank

wondered, or would he be haunted by Iola's memory forever? Crashing noises from the

nearby forest brought Frank whirling away from the riverbank. He turned just in time to

see Joe Hardy tearing through the underbrush.

Frank shook his head. "You made me lose a fish," he complained. Then he saw his

brother's face. "What's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost. "

"I did," Joe said, still gasping for breath. "Iola."

"That's impossible," Frank said patiently. "Your mind is playing tricks. Iola's gone,

Joe." Frank began to get worried. Had too much hard ball with the bad guys scrambled

Joe's brains?

"I know what I saw," Joe said, stubbornly shaking his head. "I left the car and was

heading back here through the woods. And suddenly she stepped out from behind a tree

less than ten yards from me. I saw her face as clear as day. She was wearing a sweater

and jeans, just like the ones she was wearing before . . . before. . ." Joe's voice trailed off.

"You've got to face what happened," Frank said, putting his hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Nothing was left of the car but a few hunks of molten metal after that bomb went off.

There's no chance that Iola could have survived."

"But remember: They didn't find a trace of Iola's body," said Joe.

Frank saw the gleam of hope in Joe's eye. A crazy gleam, Frank thought, for a crazy

hope.

"The police said the heat was so intense that it left no traces of her," Frank reminded

him gently. "Except in your memory, Joe."

Joe's face tightened. "That wasn't a memory I just saw. It was her, as real as you

or me."

"But did she say anything or do anything to make contact with you?" Frank asked.

"The real Iola would have."

"She was about to say something," Joe said. "She saw me and opened her mouth to

speak. Then all of a sudden she looked confused, like she didn't know where she was or

what she was doing. Her eyes went blank, and she turned and ran. Before I could move,

she'd disappeared in the forest."

"Vanished-just like that," said Frank skeptically.

"I don't care if you believe me or not. That's what happened," said Joe, now openly

angry. "When I couldn't find her, I came back here to get you to help track her. She needs

help, Frank. And if you won't help her, I'll have to do it alone."

He turned away from his brother and strode back into the forest.

"Joe! Wait!" said Frank, hurrying after him.

"Stranger things than this have happened and

turned out to be real. I'll come along if you want me to."

Joe flashed a smile at his brother. "I figured you wouldn't be able to resist a mystery.

Come on, Sherlock. Together, we'll be able to pick up her trail."

"How will you find the spot where you first saw her?" Frank asked as they made their

way through the forest. Sunlight filtering through the branches dappled the ground. The

only sounds were the crunching of pine needles under the Hardys' feet, the buzzing of

insects, and the occasional call of a bird.

"I dropped my pack with the supplies when I saw her, so it should still be lying there,"

said Joe. He squinted through the trees. "There it is now."

They stood beside the discarded pack.

"So where did this girl . . . Iola . . . come from?" Frank asked-and then he heard it.

Just a small sound. A twig snapping, maybe, or pine needles crunching.

But it was a sound that somehow didn't belong, that made him want to dive for cover.

Frank got a hold on himself, smiling at how on edge his nerves were. They were safe in

the woods.

But Joe didn't think so. He grabbed Frank's arm and dived to the ground, dragging

Frank with him.

"Joe-" Frank began, but a much louder sound drowned out his words.

Rifle shots exploded.

Bullets whizzed inches over their heads. "It's a trap," Joe rasped. "And we're sitting

ducks!"

Chapter 2

"GOT TO FIND cover," Frank whispered into his brother's ear as they lay side by side,

facedown, hugging the ground. There- were more rifle shots, more bullets whizzing

above them.

"Good thinking," said Joe, already starting to roll himself along the ground toward the

nearest large pine.

Frank followed him. They reached the side of the tree away from where the shooting

was coming, and cautiously raised themselves to their hands and knees.

More shots. A bullet thumped into the tree, and another ricocheted off it, showering

splinters of bark.

The Hardy boys hit the ground again. Wiggling on their stomachs, using their elbows to

propel

them, they retreated farther away from whoever was using them for target practice.

The rifle shots ended. As Frank strained to cover ground, he kept his ears wide open

for sounds of pursuit. But he heard none. Just the sound of Joe and him going over the

blanket of pine needles, and the sound of their increasingly heavy breathing as their lungs

began to burn.

Finally, it seemed safe to stop. Concealed behind thick undergrowth, they again raised

themselves to their hands and knees. With the back of his hand Frank wiped away the

sweat coating his forehead.

"Whew, close call," he whispered.

"Hey, remember what you told me about this trip?" Joe whispered back.

"No. What?" said Frank.

" 'No bad guys, just good times,' " said Joe.

Frank shrugged. "Okay, so I was wrong." He edged his face toward a gap in the

undergrowth to peer into the forest. "Looks like they're not coming after us."

"Then it's time for us to go after them," said Joe. His eyes were flashing like warning

lights. People taking potshots at him triggered his temper.

Frank didn't have Joe's hot temper. Instead he had cool-headed logic. But he did share

his brother's dislike of running from a fight-and Joe's determination to come out on top no

matter what the odds.

"From the number of shots, it's a good bet there's more than one guy," Frank said. "We

can't go straight at them, because it won't do any good to go charging into the barrels of

their guns."

"We'll make a circle and approach them from behind," said Joe. .

"Just what I was thinking," replied Frank.

"And it would be even better if we split up. It'll double our chances of spotting them. If

one of us does, he can give a signal. How about this?"

Frank pursed his lips and whistled a whippoorwill call.

Joe replied with one of his own.

"It'll do," said Frank, nodding. We'll gamble that our pals out there won't know that

whippoorwills do their calling at night."

"We won't even give them the time to think about it," said Joe. "We'll make sure they

never know what hit them."

"We'll have surprise on our side," Frank agreed. "They'll never figure that we're

coming after them." Frank checked the compass on his watch, and Joe did the same.

"Okay. You go five hundred paces to the southwest. I go the same distance southeast.

Then we trade directions, so we meet in another five hundred paces-unless one of us

makes a sighting first."

"Catch you later," said Joe. He moved off, quiet as a cat, his expression alert and

intent, like a tiger on the prowl.

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摘要：

Chapter1"GOTyou!"FRANKHARDYsmiledgrimly.Onceagain,theolderofthetwoHardyboyshadmadeacapture.Inthiscase,thecapturewasafish.RushingwatercameuptothetopofhishiphighbootsashebracedhimselfagainstthecurrentoftheAllagashRiver.Abovethetallpinesonbothbanksoftheriver,theearlyfallskywasadazzlingblue.Frankfeltami...

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Hardy Boys - Case 04 - The Lazarus Plot

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