The Hardy Boys Casefiles : Dead on Target

Chapter 9

FRANK AND JOE watched in silence as the interrogator knelt by the captive. "We'll get no more from him now," Fosby said. "Not for a long time-if ever."

"Well, we know nothing more about the safe house," Perkins said, "and if we believe our sources, half of the Assassins' leadership council is in there right now."

"Then we should get moving, before they get suspicious about the hijacking." The Gray Man turned to the Hardys. "Let's get you some gear."

Soon, the Hardys were in an empty office, changing into comfortable black jeans and black zippered jackets. "This stuff looks like it's easy to move in, at least," said Joe. "Wait till you try this on," said Frank, pulling his jacket over the bulk of a bulletproof vest. "It's like wearing a life jacket for underwear." He zipped up the jacket, then turned the handle on the door. It didn't open.

"What the - ?" he said, straining, but the handle didn't turn.

Joe joined him, twisting the handle, pulling it, but it didn't budge. "Hey!" he shouted, banging his fist on the door.

A shadow appeared on the reinforced pebble glass window in the door. Though they couldn't see the face, both Hardys recognized who it was - the Gray Man.

"We'll just keep you here during the raid," the government man said. "You'll be safe and sound, and out of the way of stray bullets."

"Wait a minute!" shouted Frank, but the Gray Man had already headed down the corridor.

The boys looked around their temporary prison, an eight-by-eight-foot office with a desk piled high with papers, two chairs, and no windows. In two steps, Joe was at the desk, grabbing a paperweight from one of the piles. "This looks like our ticket out of here," he said, winding up. With the speed of his best fastball, the paper weight smashed into the window on the door And bounced off.

Joe stared in shock for a second, then recovered the paperweight from the floor. Holding it in his hand, he hammered at the window. He might as well have been tickling it with a flower.

"I need something heavier," Joe said. Tossing the paperweight away, he took one of the chairs and swung it at the window. The chair bounced off, too. "What is this stuff?"

Frank climbed onto the other chair, examining the ceiling.

"Get real, Frank. We'd never fit through the air-system vent."

"I guess you're right. Keep working on the window," Frank said, mouthing the word "bugs." Joe resumed pounding away at the door as Frank moved his chair over to the wall, testing the ceiling tiles with his fingers. Finally, as Joe hit the door extra hard, Frank formed a fist and rammed the tile out of its framework.

Peering into the musty darkness, he smiled, The walls extended only to a hung ceiling, leaving a foot-high passage into the next office!

"You might as well put the chair down and sit on it, Joe," Frank said for the benefit of any unseen listeners. "We're never going to get out of here." He beckoned Joe over, then worked more tiles loose.

Frank climbed into the airspace with a hand from Joe. Balancing himself on the wall (the tiles were too light to support his weight), Frank listened for any sounds from the office next door. Nothing.

But just as he was about to pry up one of the tiles, Frank heard coughing. Someone was in there!

Frank slipped back through the hole, shaking his head to Joe. They moved the chair to the opposite wall, and while Joe whistled loudly, Frank dislodged more tiles. Leaning into the airspace again, he held his breath. If someone was in this office, they were stuck.