The Hardy Boys Casefiles : Dead on Target

Chapter 18

FRANK AND JOE Hardy sat in their father's study, relaxing. Frank lay on the leather sofa, his hands clasped behind his neck. Joe rested in the recliner with his feet up. His left arm was in a light sling, an enormous bandage wrapped around his hand. "This thing looks like the hand of King Tot," he complained.

"Is that any way for a hero to talk?" Frank asked. "You personally overcame the dreaded international terrorist who was about to spray the mall with bullets."

"Yeah, and you're the one who stopped him from blowing the mall up." Joe grinned. "I hear the Mall Association is talking about giving us a reward. Then we'll be rich as well as famous!" He had started waving his hands as he talked but suddenly stopped with a grimace.

"Are you okay?" Frank said.

"I just forgot and moved the wrong hand. That's why the doctors have me in this stupid sling. To keep it immobilized."

Frank smiled. "It makes you look very heroic. At least, that's what all those girls said who were kissing you."

Joe grinned back. "Yeah. Maybe I should wear an eye patch, too." He leaned back in his chair. "Well, tomorrow everything will be back to normal. Mom and Aunt Gertrude will come home."

"We should be glad Aunt Gertrude wasn't here." Frank gave his brother an amused look. "If she'd been cross-examining us, we'd never have convinced Dad of our story."

Working together, Frank and Joe had concocted a tale to explain their escape from federal custody and their discovery of Butler's double identity-without mentioning such things as the Network, British Intelligence, and trips to London.

Their father had also told them about his investigation-going underground, trying to get close to the people in the Brixton safe house, and ending with some nasty comments about the British for raiding the place and making him lose the Assassins. Frank and Joe had to hide smiles when they heard that.

"In a couple of days, the papers will find something new to write about, and people will forget all about us," Frank said. "It will be like nothing ever happened."

"Yeah," replied Joe, but his face clouded over. Frank knew what he was thinking about. One thing had happened that they would never forget. And because of it, they'd never see Iola again.

Frank looked at his brother's sad face, wishing he could say something to make him feel better. The telephone rang.

Frank hopped off the couch and grabbed the receiver. "Hardy residence," he said. His eyes grew big. Then he motioned to Joe to pick up the extension on the table.

The voice that came to their ears was weak but recognizable. "Well, I see you two finished my case-even though I was out of action," the Gray Man said. "Good work."

"Not so good," Frank replied, thinking about the terrible moments in the subbasement of the mall. "We didn't figure that Butler was Al-Rousasa until he pointed a gun at us."

"But then you defused his bomb and stopped his last-ditch attack," said the Gray Man. "It's a shame you couldn't have captured him. We'd have learned a lot. "

"We're lucky he didn't take me along on his fall," Joe said. "If Frank hadn't been around to stop it."

"The newspaper accounts made no mention of ah, any organizations being involved," the Gray Man went on. "What?" said Joe "You're annoyed because you didn't get any publicity?"

"No, you handled that side of things just right," the government man replied.

"Even our father doesn't know exactly what happened," Frank said. "We managed to convince him it was a lucky investigation that brought us to the mall."

Joe broke in. "So, if you need a helping hand to - "

"Do research for us?" The Gray Man's tone showed that he didn't want to say any more, not on an open phone line. "That's a possibility. I thought you'd have decided that this was enough. "

They heard a female voice in the background. "Speaking of enough, sir, you've been on that phone far too long. You have to get your rest."

"My nurse," the Gray Man growled. "It's worse than a prison in here. But there's one more thing I want to say." "What's that?" asked Frank.

"Thanks, kid. I owe you one for saving me from that bomb. When I'm on my feet again, I'll give you a call. Maybe you can come down to New York for lunch."

Before Frank could say anything, he heard sounds of a scuffle over the transatlantic line. "I must insist, sir," the nurse said.

"Give me that back! If I could use both hands. . ." The Gray Man gave an exasperated snort. "At least let me say goodbye."

Frank and Joe grinned at each other as they made their farewells and hung up the phone. "So," Frank said, "we now have a friend in the government." Joe's face was serious as he nodded.

"You really meant what you said about doing more business with him, didn't you?" asked Frank.

"This is more than just doing something for Iola," Joe said. "I realized it when that killer was falling." He looked at Frank. "As long as there are Assassins, there'll always be more Al-Rousasas."

Frank stared at him. "So you're going to fight them single-handed?"

"No. Not single-handed," said Joe. "That's why I wanted a line to the government. And we've got that reward money coming. Enough to replace our car and get some good equipment." He paused. "And I hoped you would be in it, too." He gazed at his brother's face, frozen in thought. "Look, it's not like I want us to give up our usual cases. But there are bigger things going on these days and we could make a difference." "We?" said Frank.

"Sure. I need you. What could I do without the brains of the outfit?" Frank began to smile. "Probably go around punching all the wrong heads." He stuck out his hand. "All right. Just you and me-and the bad guys." Joe grabbed Frank's hand with his good one. "Way to go!"

THE END.

And LISTEN CAREFULLY : AL-ROUSASA IS A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. THIS CHARACTER DOES NOT SHOW THAT EVERY ARAB IS A TERRORIST OR AN EXTREMIST. I STRICTLY CONDEMN HATE CRIMES AND TERRORISM. TERRORISM HAS NO RACE OR RELIGION

Thank you for reading. Goodbye for now