Hardy Boys Casefiles: Lazarus Plot

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!"

 Ok so this book comes after the first one which is present in my profile. You should read that one first for better understanding of this one.