Edge of Destruction (9 page)

The Hardys looked at each other. "So," Joe said, perking up, "if you have no virus, you've got nothing to threaten the city with."

"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you" said the doctor, wearing an evil-looking smile. "There may be no Virus A, but Virus B is very, very real. We merely decided that developing a Virus A was an unnecessary expense." "So where is this Virus B kept” Joe asked.

"Now, that, young man, I will not tell you. I must save something to bargain with. I will tell you, though, that you will never find it."

"I believe him. Let's go before somebody down here finds out what's up," said Frank. "Yeah," said Joe. "I guess we can get the virus later. Get ready to move, von Reich. "No, wait," he said, picking up the hypodermic from the floor and looking at it. "Good. It wasn't damaged. Let's see how fast this knockout drug of yours works, Doctor." "That's pretty gross," said Frank dubiously.

"What do you mean?" asked Joe. "It'll put von Reich out of action, won't it? We can really make time getting out of here and be back with help before Trask realizes we've gone and has time to do anything about Virus B. Besides, the drug won't do anything more than knock the doctor out for a while.”

"Okay, Joe, I'll go along with your scheme. The question is who gives von Reich the shot? I'm not info handling needles."

Joe looked at the hypodermic in his hand, and his stomach gave a lurch. "Me either." Then he smiled. "Good thing we have an expert in the room." Smiling, despite the doctor's protests, he handed von Reich the hypodermic. "Doctor," Joe said, "show us your stuff." "And what if I say no?" von Reich responded.

"There are other ways of putting you to sleep," said Joe. He bunched his fist in front of the doctor's face.

“You will never get out of here," the doctor threatened, rolling up his sleeve. "When I wake up, I will have the pleasure of finding you in my power again. And I assure you, Virus B is a far more interesting substance than this drug." A minute later, the doctor was lying unconscious on the floor.

"He'll be out long enough for us to reach Peterson and get help. Let's go," said Joe. Then he saw his father still hadn't moved. "What's wrong, Dad?”

But before Fenton Hardy could answer, Joe heard another sound - the sound of the doorknob turning.

Here we go again, thought Joe. He flattened himself against the wall on one side of the doorway, while Frank did the same on the other side.

The door swung open.

Joe and Frank tensed to spring.

Then, without warning, the script changed. "Don't come in-my boys are waiting for you!" Fenton Hardy shouted. And everything froze.

Joe and Frank couldn't do anything. They felt paralyzed. All they could think was that their own father had betrayed them!

"OKAY, FILE OUT of the room with your hands up," said Trask's bodyguard. He had been alerted by Fenton Hardy's warning shout. In the man's hand was an ugly-looking Uzi. But the look on his face was even uglier than the gun.

"Do what he says. Don't even think of getting the best of him," Fenton Hardy advised his sons, his eyes swimming with worry.

"No talk, just move it," the bodyguard snarled. He'd glanced into the lab and seen the doctor lying out cold on the floor. "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes once the boss finds out what you did to the doctor."

Trask's face flushed with rage when he heard the news. "Wise guy, huh?" he said to Hardy.

"You forgot what I told you. I got a good mind to pull the plug on those dames of yours."

“But it was the kids who did it, and they didn't know," protested Mr. Hardy.

"That's what you say," sneered Trask.

Desperation flooded the boys' father's voice. "Please. Believe me. You don't think they'd have tried anything if they knew."

“Knew what?” asked Joe.

"Quiet!" ordered Trask, whirling to face him. Then he turned back to face Fenton Hardy.

"Okay, I'll let it go this time," Trask said reluctantly. "But tell your kids the score. From now on no more excuses."

Mr. Hardy turned to his sons. "Sorry for fouling up your plans, but I had no choice. Trask's men have taken your mother and your aunt prisoner in Bayport. All Trask has to do is make a phone call, and Gertrude and your mother are dead."

"Dad, he's conning you," said Joe.

"Right," said Frank. "It's Mom and Aunt Gertrude who have the prisoners. We left them at home holding the goons at gunpoint."

Trask gave out a hoarse laugh. "You really think a couple of women could keep my men under their thumbs? Your luck ran out. The situation in Bayport is reversed, and your mother and aunt are paying for it." "You're lying!" said Joe. But the cold contempt in Trask’s voice chilled him. "Want to bet on it? Want to bet your mother's and aunt's lives?"

"You see why I had to stop you," Fenton Hardy said. "If we tried to escape, it wouldn't be just our lives we were putting on the line. And how could we really have been certain that Trask wouldn't have released Virus B in the meantime and wiped out the city? No" Mr. Hardy said thoughtfully, "the risk was too great."

Frank and Joe nodded. They should have known their dad had a good reason for doing what he did. They just hoped he could come up with something to get them out of this jam.

The brothers glanced at their father's face but couldn't see a glimmer of hope. He, like them, was alert, but the tight line of Fenton Hardy's mouth told his sons that he, too, couldn't see an escape. Time was running out for them all.

Thinking about time made Frank asked suddenly, "Hey, Trask, how long were we knocked out? What's been going on?"

"You weren't out long enough," Trask said.

"Long enough for what?" asked Frank. "Long enough for you to get videos of us to send to Peterson?" he guessed.

"That's it on the nose kid," said Trask. "I told Peterson that if he didn't put his hands on the ransom real fast, all the males in the Hardy family would get it." Trask glanced at his watch. "Hey, you know what?"

Finally Joe gave in. "Okay, Trask, I'll bite. What?" he asked.

"The time I gave Peterson it was up five minutes ago. Let's see how much that cop thinks your lives are worth."

Trask picked up his phone and punched out a number. "Was the dough delivered?" he asked. His face darkened as he heard the answer. He slammed down the receiver.

"Nothing yet. Not a cent," he growled. "All Peterson left at the drop off point was a note begging for more time. Seems the big-money boys want proof of what kind of danger they're in."

Trask crashed his big fist down on his desk. The desk trembled. Trask was in his fifties, but the huge muscles in his arms were those of a younger man.

"I'll give them all the proof they want," he said, glaring at the Hardys. A nasty smile shaped his thick lips. "You think three Hardy corpses should do it?" He faced Fenton Hardy. "What do you think, Mr. Big Important Man?"

Before he could answer, Trask changed course. "Nah. A two bit private eye and two baby boys wouldn't be impressive enough to make those fat cats cough up that big a chunk of their loot. Besides, Fenton, old buddy, I don't want you to die just yet. I want you around that way you can see what kind of guy you were dealing with when you tangled with me." Trask nodded at his bodyguard. "Come on. We're all going to the lab. Keep your guns on these jokers. You can never tell what they'll come up with."

"Gonna check on how the doctor is?" the bodyguard asked his boss.

"As far as I'm concerned, that creep can stay out for good," said Trask. "In fact, he's better off if he does. It’ll spare him the shock of finding out that his share of the take ain't going to be what he expected. "

"Double-crossing your own partner?” said Joe. "You're a real sweet guy."

Trask wasn't insulted. If anything, he looked as if he had received a compliment. "In this business, kid, nice guys finish last, Dead last."

In the lab, Trask poked the doctor with his toe. Von Reich groaned, then stirred.

A cloud passed over Trask's face. "That drug of his ain't so good," he muttered. He bent down and picked up the hypodermic that had fallen to the floor when the doctor had passed out. Trask's face brightened. "Hey, Doc only injected himself with a little bit of it. I always knew the man was shrewd."

By then von Reich's eyelids were fluttering open. He was struggling to sit up.

But a minute later he was back on the floor, totally unconscious. With a big smile, Trask had emptied the rest of the needle into his arm.

Trask went to the lab refrigerator and took out a tightly corked test tube. A row of identical test tubes remained there.

"Nice supply, huh?" Trask said, making sure the Hardys got a good view. "Enough to wipe out a whole city."

"I can't believe it was right there," said Frank, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Trask closed the refrigerator door, then, eyeing the test tube, he faked a toss to Joe.

He chuckled as Joe instinctively made a desperate grab at thin air. "Think I'd trust you to catch this, kid?" Trask sneered. "You drop it, and we're all dead in about three minutes. A real ugly way to go, too. You should have seen how the doc's lab rats writhed around before they croaked. Ugly sight, believe me. Real ugly.

"Tell you what," he said. He was clearly enjoying himself. "I'll let you carry the stuff."

He handed the test tube to Joe. Joe held it carefully as he looked at it. The test tube was filled with a clear liquid. Joe tried to remember what he had learned about viruses in biology. It was hard to imagine that the liquid in that test tube was the breeding ground for millions of organisms that only the most high-powered high-tech microscopes could identify.

"Unbelievable," he said.

"Gives you the creeps, huh?" said Trask. "Don't worry. You won't have to carry it far Come on."

Once again they walked down the corridor. This time they headed past Trask's office, not stopping until they reached a metal ladder. Trask climbed up the ladder. He gave five sharp raps on the trapdoor just above his head. Then he paused before rapping three times more. When the door was lifted, Trask squeezed through what, for him was a narrow opening. .

"Okay, the rest of you come up," he called down. "And, you Hardys, no funny business."

While Trask's bodyguard held a gun on them from below, the Hardys climbed the ladder. Joe was extra careful because of his deadly cargo. They reached a dimly lit basement and discovered Trask standing next to a man dressed in a janitor's outfit. "Give him the test tube;" said Trask. Joe obeyed. "Be careful of this stuff," Trask told the man. "Insert it the way we plagued. Then cleat out fast."

The man made a face. "You don't have to tell me that," he said, already fiddling with a series of pipes. "I saw what happened to those mice. No way I'm going to let that happen to me."

"Now we go back to my office and wait," said Trask, taking one last look at what his man was doing.

Wait for what?" asked Frank. He dreaded the answer.

"Wait for my man here to hook up the test tube to a timing device he's planted inside the building's central air-conditioning system. The device will smash the test tube open in five minutes." Trask wore a sinister smile. "After that happens," he said, "it should take about half an hour for the radio and TV people to report the tragedy. Maybe we'll hear even sooner."

"What makes you think the story will get on the news so fast?" asked Joe. "It's Sunday, no one's around."

"Hey, bright boy, I forgot to tell you what building my office is under," Trask said, gloating.

"Some kind of courthouse, right?" Joe asked.

"Wrong," Trask said, grinning. "We're standing directly under City Hall. Just think," he went on. "Peterson is having a special meeting with the mayor and the city council, trying to convince them that we're for real. Sunday or not, they're all there."

A horrifying picture suddenly appeared in all of the Hardys' minds.

"In a few minutes, they'll know they were wrong to doubt me - dead wrong."

BACK IN His office, Trask sat down at his desk, leaned back in his chair, and turned on his TV. By then four of his hoods had come in. The atmosphere was that of a big party. The thugs sat drinking beer as they watched a silent image on the TV screen. In no time, they knew, the program would be interrupted by some grim-faced announcer. Then the sound would be turned up again as they got all the gruesome details. Mean while, Trask had plenty to say to fill the silence.

"That twenty million is practically in my pocket," he said, licking beer foam off his lips.

"The fat cats will fall all over themselves to pay it when they see what's happened to their mayor and chief of police. After that, I can start getting even with my 'pals.' When I got out of the joint, I found out what kind of pals they were they'd divided up all my territory. 'Tough luck,' they told me. I was out in the cold." "Gee, rough break," said Joe sarcastically. "You can't trust anybody anymore."

"So that's why you had to move underground," said Frank. "It was the only area in the city still open to you."

"You got the picture," Trask said bitterly. He grimaced at the memory. "Well, in just a couple of minutes now, nobody's ever going to get the better of Nick Trask again," he said, smiling.

But after a couple of minutes of watching the silent TV screen, Trask was no longer smiling. The same nature show was continuing. Trask got up and switched channels. Everything was normal, on all the stations. He snapped off the set suddenly and snapped on a transistor radio, turning to an all-news station. The announcer was enthusiastically reporting the score of a Yankees game.

Grabbing his phone then, Trask punched out a number. He shouted into the mouthpiece, "What's going on? Why didn't the thing go off - " Pause. "Well, go find out!" Trask threw down the receiver. It hit the floor, carrying the rest of the phone with it. Picking up the jumble of plastic and cord, Trask shook his head in disgust. "Can you believe it? That jerk was just sitting around having a. beer. He didn't bother checking to see what was happening. No wonder he wound up in the joint."