The Lazarus Plot (6 page)

"I'm sure they will, after we make sure these two are never a danger again," said Jacques.

"But there's something I still don't understand. What interest does the Lazarus Clinic have in the Network?" said Joe. "Why should they be so eager to have our doubles make contact with them?”

"They did not tell us, and we did not ask," said Henri. "Our job isn't to ask questions, but to follow orders." "Already we have wasted too much time talking," said Henri. He gave the Hardy boys a nasty smile. "Don't think we don't know that you two have been stalling for time. We have merely been playing a little game of cat and mouse with you. But now your time has run out."

"That's right," said Henri. "We were called off an important job in Quebec to come down here, and we must get back there quickly. We are scheduled to plant a bomb tomorrow."

"So we get this over with right now," said Jacques.

"Yes," said Henri. "I suggest you stop staring down the barrels of our guns and look down at the ground.”

"We're not scared of facing you," said Joe. He was getting ready to make a leap at them. He might not stand a chance, but it beat just standing there and taking it.

"Don't get any smart ideas, Mr. Tough Guy," said Henri contemptuously. "I said look at the ground, and I meant it. To your right, next to that rose bush."

Lying there in the moonlight were two shovels. "You brought those shovels here-and now you will get to use them," said Henri.

"That's right," said Jacques. "To dig your own graves.”

"Pick up those shovels and start digging," ordered Henri, motioning with his rifle. "We'll tell you when to stop," said Jacques. "And when to die," added Henri.

SWEAT SOAKED FRANK'S clothes as he dug. He and Joe had been deep in trouble before, but never three feet into their graves and getting deeper every minute.

Digging in the hole next to Frank, Joe was thinking the same thing. There had to be a way out. But all he could see was the dirt on his shovel. The dirt that soon would be shoveled back over him.

Then both Hardy boys heard the words they were dreading.

"Okay, boys, you've dug enough," said Jacques, motioning with his rifle for them to stop.

“I thought graves were supposed to be at least six feet deep," said Frank. "This one is barely up to my waist."

"Still stalling for time, I see," said Henri. "Well, we don't have any more time to waste. We have to cut out of here for Quebec quickly, the minute we're finished with you. And these holes are plenty deep enough."

. Jacques nodded in agreement. "They will not have to hold you standing up. You most certainly will be lying down," he said.

"And nobody is going to come digging for you here," said Henri. "So goodbye, Hardy boys," said Jacques, taking aim with his rifle.

"Let me dig just one more shovelful to even out the bottom. I always like to do a job right, even if it's the last job I ever do," said Frank.

He didn't dare look at Joe. He could only hope that his brother picked up on his words.

Joe didn't dare look at Frank. He could only hope that he was hearing his brother right.

The Hardys looked at the two Assassins and felt a surge of relief when Jacques shrugged and nodded, and then Henri shrugged in accord.

Instantly the Hardys turned to the work at hand. They took firm holds on their shovels, turned, bent down, and dug deep into the black earth. Then they straightened up, with their shovels carrying full loads.

"Maybe you will be rewarded for your labors. Maybe they will plant roses over you so that your blood will nourish beautiful blossoms. You will become what in the sixties they used to call flower children," said Henri, chuckling at his own grisly joke.

"It's a pity this has to end so fast - playing cat and mouse with you has been fun," added Jacques, smiling, too.

"Yeah, a pity," said Frank. "I'd much rather be the one who has the last laugh."

Praying that Joe interpreted his raised voice as a cue, Frank flung his shovelful of dirt at Jacques, who was nearest to him.

His prayer was answered.

Joe's shovelful of dirt smacked Henri in the face at the same moment that Frank's hit Jacques.

Both Hardy boys followed up instantly, coming out of their holes with raised shovels. They smashed the shovels down on the Assassins' skulls with equal force-and with equal results.

Frank and Joe stood side by side, catching their breath and looking down at the two knocked-out killers at their' feet.

"Good thinking," Joe said.

"Good thinking yourself," replied Frank.

"Now what?" asked Joe.

"Now we have to move fast," said Frank. "We have to catch up with our doubles, and that'll be hard. We can be sure that they've already checked out the information about the Network connection; otherwise the clinic wouldn't have decided that they were finished with us. I wonder how long we were knocked out."

Joe bent down and took a watch off Henri's limp wrist. As he had hoped, it was a calendar watch. "We've been out for a whole day," he said. "No wonder I'm starved." Then he grinned and added, "Of course, action like this always gives me an appetite. What I'd do for a burger and some fries right now. Or maybe a double thick shake."

"You'll have to forget about food," said Frank. "We have to figure out what to do with these two bozos. Then we have to figure out how to escape."

Joe looked down at the two Assassins. "I've got an idea. They were talking about planting bombs. Instead, we'll plant them."

Frank nodded, "Right. But before we do, let's change clothes with Jacques and Henri. That way we might be able to get past any guards at the gate, which will save us the time of trying to tunnel under the fence. And we need to save all the time we can."

"Let's get to work on these holes," said Joe, grabbing his shovel again.

Twenty minutes later, Joe and Frank were in the Assassins' hunting clothes, and the Assassins were in the Hardy boys sweat suits. The two killers, bound and gagged, were also in dirt up to their necks. All they could do to express their feelings was make faint noises while their eyes bulged with fury. "Bye now," said Joe, picking up one of their rifles. "I hope this doesn't get you in trouble with your bosses. I'd hate to think of you spending the next few years cleaning dirty weapons and stuff like that."

"I hope the guards at the gate don't check us too closely," said Frank, picking up the other rifle. "I don't want to have to shoot my way out of any tight spots."

"Risk is the name of the game," said Joe cheerfully as he headed toward the gate.

For what seemed like the millionth time in their adventures, Frank had to shake his head at his brother's enthusiasm for taking on danger.

On the other hand, Frank had to admit to himself, life would be pretty dull without the kick of overcoming odds.

For instance, when they reached the gate and gave the guard stationed there a casual wave, and in turn were waved through by him, the surge of triumph and relief made the jittery sensation beforehand worthwhile.

Unfortunately, the feeling of triumph lasted only as long as it took them to reach their camping site.

By the time they arrived, after a half-hour of jogging along the overgrown forest trail in their heavy hunters' boots, they were breathing hard. By now the eastern sky was brightening with the first hint of dawn. Joe looked at where their tent and equipment had been, Shook his head, and said, "They've cleaned out everything. They didn't leave a trace that we had ever been here."

"I guess we should have expected this," said Frank. "Let's check out' the station wagon, though I've got a strong hunch what we'll find."

He was right. The spot where they had parked the station wagon was empty.

"What now?" asked Joe, still looking regretfully at where the station wagon had been. "Two months of hard work on the engine and a new paint job down the drain."

"We need wheels. We have to get back to Bayport fast," said Frank. "That's where our doubles must have gone-to access the Network on our computer. We have to try to catch up with them before they use it. And if we can't do that, we have to alert the Network before our doubles pull off whatever dirty trick they're planning."

Joe wiped his dripping forehead. Already the chill of the Maine night was wearing off as the sun cleared the horizon. It was shaping up to be a scorcher. "It feels like we're chasing our own shadows," he said, looking down the deserted blacktop road. "Let's make it to town and see if we can rent a car there," said Frank. "Good thing Henri and Jacques had wallets stuffed with cash. I guess the Assassins don't believe 'in credit cards." Frank started jogging down the road. "Come on. It can't be more than a six-mile run."

Joe jogged beside him, matching him step for step, even though Frank kept pushing up the pace.

"Aren't you glad now I made you go on all those training runs with me last winter?" Frank asked his brother.

"Give me sprinting any time," panted Joe. "Or at least give me a pair of running shoes. I think somebody slipped lead into the soles of these boots."

Thirty-five minutes later, Joe spotted the general store where they had bought their shovels.

There should be a crowd cheering us on-like at the end of the Boston Marathon," Joe said, gasping for air. "I could use some encouragement about now." “Come on, slowpoke," said Frank, pushing up the pace still more. "Let's just hope that we find someone up this early."

Fortunately, the storekeeper kept country hours. He was sitting in a rocking chair inside his store, sipping coffee. "Morning, young fellows," he said. "Back so soon?"

"Seems so” said Frank carefully. He gave his brother a warning glance not to say anything more, just in case the storekeeper wasn't talking about them, but about their doubles.

Joe nodded almost imperceptibly. He got the message. "What happened, your car break down?" said the storekeeper. "I told you that old heap couldn't be trusted when I filled it up with gas yesterday. You should have listened to me and taken my price for it and that car rental deal I offered you."

"Yeah, I have to admit, you were right," said Frank, thinking fast. "It gave up the ghost just ten miles from here. Some local farmer bought it for junk and put us up in his barn for the night. As soon as it got light, we hiked back here to take you up on that car rental."

The storekeeper looked the Hardy boys over and said, "A little ten-mile stroll, and you boys are sweating like that? Why, when I was your age, I could do that without breathing hard. Trouble with young folks today, you don't take care of yourselves. "

"Right," said Joe, grinning. "I plan to turn over a new leaf. But at the moment, I'm not in shape to make it home by foot. About that car rental you mentioned?”

"Come with me," said the storekeeper, getting out of his rocking chair.

He led them out of the general store and down the single main street of the tiny town. They reached a car rental agency, and the storekeeper unlocked its front door and ushered them inside. Then he put on a cap with lettering that read We Aim to Serve You Better for Less, and said, "Now, what model do you want?" "The fastest you have," said Frank.

“‘Fraid that's going to cost you quite a bit," said the storekeeper. "Now, for a lot less I can give you our special wreck-of-the-week bargain, guaranteed to get you there" or your money back."

"We'll still take the fastest," said Frank.

The storekeeper's face was torn between the pleasure of making a nice profit and the pain of seeing money squandered. "Well, I reckon it's your money," he said with a shrug. "What'll it be, American Express, Visa, or MasterCard?"

"We're paying in cash," Frank said, pulling out a wallet bulging with hundred-dollar and fifty dollar bills.

"Sorry about that," said the storekeeper. “‘Fraid I can't take cash. Against the franchise company's rules."

"Look, we'll pay extra," said Joe, pulling out a stuffed wallet from his pocket.

"Rules are rules," said the storekeeper, shaking his head. Then he looked at the bulging wallets in the Hardy boys' hands while his tongue worked itself thoughtfully around in his mouth. “‘Course, I happen to have a car I just might be willing to sell you. . ."

A half an hour later, the Hardy boys were rolling down the highway in a 1955 Buick Roadmaster, with tail fins that seemed to reach halfway to the sky.

"I hope this will make it to Bayport," said Joe at the wheel, pressing down as hard as he dared on the accelerator.

"Good thing we still have some cash left," Frank pointed out. "We're going to have to stop at every gas station on the way. This car must get about a hundred yards to the gallon."

It was early afternoon and ten refueling stops later, when the car engine wheezed to a stop. But by that time it had done its job. The Hardy boys were just four blocks from home.

They climbed out and pushed the car to the curb. Joe gave it a quick final look. "This baby is going to keep me busy for at least five months."

Just then a voice behind them said, "Man, Joe, don't you ever get enough?"

Frank and Joe turned and saw their pal Chet Morton. He was grinning at them, his mouth stained brown from the chocolate triple-dip ice cream cone in his hand.

"Just this morning you drove by in that ancient station wagon of yours," said Chet. "Now you've got another antique. What you plan to do, open up a museum?" Frank and Joe exchanged quick glances.

"It was a bargain, I couldn't resist it," said Joe. "Hey, you guys want to go to the pizza parlor with me?" asked Chet.

"Some other time," said Joe. "We've got a couple of things to do right now. Anyway, what about that diet you were going on?"

"Like you said, some other time," replied Chet. "I've got things to do, too, like try the new peppers-and-pepperoni special." Chet patted his ample stomach with anticipation, gave a goodbye wave of his hand, and headed for lunch.

"So our doubles arrived here this morning," said Frank. "Let's make it home fast."

But they had covered only a block when they were stopped again. It was Frank's girlfriend, Callie Shaw.