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  Alien Attack!

  As I turned away, I saw a third alien jump at Deathstalker with its grozzer raised. It landed a blow on her arm.

  This time the costumed Deathstalker didn’t fight back. She staggered backward with a shriek.

  “Hey!” she cried, grabbing her arm. “I’m bleeding!”

  For a second I thought this was all part of the game. Then I remembered. In the comics, Deathstalker bleeds bluish green—like those scars on her body. And the substance I could already see seeping out from beneath the girl’s hand was red.

  Blood red.

  #1 Extreme Danger

  #2 Running on Fumes

  #3 Boardwalk Bust

  #4 Thrill Ride

  #5 Rocky Road

  #6 Burned

  #7 Operation: Survival

  #8 Top Ten Ways to Die

  #9 Martial Law

  #10 Blown Away

  #11 Hurricane Joe

  #12 Trouble in Paradise

  #13 The Mummy’s Curse

  #14 Hazed

  #15 Death and Diamonds

  #16 Bayport Buccaneers

  #17 Murder at the Mall

  #18 Pushed

  #19 Foul Play

  #20 Feeding Frenzy

  #21 Comic Con Artist

  Super Mystery #1: Wanted

  Super Mystery #2: Kidnapped at the Casino

  #22 Deprivation House

  #23 House Arrest Haunted: Special Ghost Stories Edition

  #24 Murder House

  #25 Double Trouble

  #26 Double Down

  #27 Double Deception

  Super Mystery #3: Club Dread

  #28 Galaxy X

  #29 X-plosion

  #30 The X-Factor

  #31 Killer Mission

  #32 Private Killer

  #33 Killer Connections

  #34 The Children of the Lost

  Super Mystery #4: Gold Medal Murder

  #35 Lost Brother

  #36 Forever Lost

  Available from Simon & Schuster

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Aladdin paperback edition May 2011

  Copyright © 2011 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  HARDY BOYS UNDERCOVER BROTHERS and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Designed by Karina Granda

  The text of this book was set in Aldine 401 BT.

  Manufactured in the United States of America 0411 OFF

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Control Number 2010939281

  ISBN 978-1-4424-0258-4

  ISBN 978-1-4424-0259-1 (eBook)

  1. Speedy Delivery

  2. Comic Relief

  3. Blastoff

  4. A Sudden Change in Plans

  5. Fandemonium

  6. Cover Me

  7. Q & A

  8. Fanning the Flames

  9. Where There’s Smoke …

  10. Ups and Downs

  11. Plans of Action

  12. The Razor’s Edge

  13. Malled

  14. Booking It

  15. A Shocking Development

  16. Blackout

  17. In the Dark

  18. The New Normal

  19. Loose Ends

  Speedy Delivery

  “Hold on!” I shouted at my brother.

  I hauled the wheel around. The sleek little motorboat skidded into the turn, its hull bouncing against the choppy, windswept water of the Chesapeake Bay.

  The boat we were chasing was now racing straight toward the wooded shoreline. For one crazy second I thought the driver might keep going and ram the hull right up onto the rocky beach.

  Then, with seconds to spare, he pulled it around to the left. The boat skimmed along the swells, running parallel to the shore.

  “Whoa!” my brother Frank yelled. He clung to the side of our boat. “The water’s way too shallow there! Turn now, Joe. We’ll have to wait for them to come back out here.”

  He was right. Frank usually is. He’s a smart guy; everyone says so.

  But I wasn’t about to let these lowlifes jump out and swim to shore. They’d disappear into the woods before I could get our boat turned around.

  “No choice, bro,” I called over the whine of the motor. “I’m going in.”

  Frank yelled something else. I didn’t hear him. For one thing, the motor got even louder as I eased it into another turn. For another, I was totally focused on that other boat.

  There were two guys in it. One was bent over the wheel. The other glanced back at us.

  He looked angry. Teenage drug runners usually do when they know they’re about to get caught.

  I let the motor out another notch.

  “This is crazy!” Frank’s voice broke through my focus. He sounded freaked out. Nerdy older brothers usually do when their studly, fearless younger brothers are doing something gutsy. “If they don’t get in deeper water stat, they’re going to—”

  CRASH!

  The noise hit me first. The sight seemed to happen in slow motion.

  I saw the boat ahead of us stop short.

  No, not quite stop.

  It sort of crumpled, then the stern of the boat flew upward. It flipped over in midair …

  SPLASH!

  My slow-motion vision ended as the overturned boat hit the water. I heard Frank yelling again, but I ignored him. I was busy hauling the wheel to the left, trying to turn our boat before we smashed into the wreck.

  “Too late!” I yelled, realizing there was nothing I could do. Not unless I suddenly figured out a way to beat the laws of physics.

  I let go of the wheel and dove for the edge of the boat. I could only hope that Frank caught on and followed. Like I said, he’s a smart guy. But sometimes he’s too cautious, a little too slow to act….

  “Jump!” I cried as I flung myself over the boat’s edge.

  Oof. I belly flopped into the water. The wake of our speeding boat spun me around like a washing machine beating up on a pair of dirty socks. I wasn’t sure which way was up.

  Even though I was still underwater, I felt the shudder as our boat hit the wreckage.

  KABOOM!

  The water rippled with the force of the explosion, sending me on a few more rotations.

  I fought my way to the surface, squinting to get the murky water out of my eyes. Frank. Where was Frank? Had he made it off the boat in time?

  “I told you not to get so close to shore,” a familiar voice said from a few feet behind me.

  Whew! I’d never been so glad to hear one of Frank’s I-told-you-so’s.

  “What happened to those guys?” I asked, treading water as I tried to get my bearings. “Think they survived that smashup?”

  “Probably.” Frank peered at the floating, s
moking wreckage. “Their boat just hit some rocks. Nothing exploded until ours crashed into theirs. They’re probably still trying to get away.”

  Frank knew we weren’t exactly dealing with a couple of geniuses. After all, geniuses wouldn’t be making their living smuggling drugs and selling them to little kids.

  “Let’s go find them.” I struck out for the wreckage.

  I’d only swum a few yards when I saw one of the non-geniuses. He was clinging to a piece of hull. His buddy was treading water nearby.

  Frank saw them too. “Stop right there!” he yelled.

  The geniuses ignored him and took off toward shore. No big surprise there. Criminals hardly ever obey when you yell at them to “stop right there.” At least not in my experience. And I have plenty. After all, Frank and I have been ATAC agents since our dad started the agency.

  But more on that later.

  “I’ll get the ugly one!” I yelled. “You grab Mr. Hair Gel.”

  I dove under and kicked forward, aiming at one of the drug runners. Oof! One of his feet clocked me in the side of the head. Yeah, that was going to leave a bruise.

  He kicked his feet harder as he swam away faster. Or tried to, anyway. I grabbed one of his ankles and held on tight. When my head popped out of the water, I heard the guy cursing and sputtering.

  “Got him!” I yelled to Frank.

  Frank didn’t answer. I looked over and saw him struggling with the other guy. Frank was trying to get him in a hammerlock, but the guy kept landing punches. They weren’t very hard ones, but still.

  “Hey!” I blurted out as I felt my guy wriggle loose. He yanked his foot away and kicked me in the thigh, then took off. Who knew drug runners were such fast swimmers?

  “Get him!” Frank yelled. Then he gurgled. Uh-oh. His guy had just dunked both of their heads underwater.

  Time for a new plan. I had to think fast.

  “Whoa!” I yelled as loudly as I could. “Watch out for that shark!”

  Okay, it was kind of a lame plan. But it was all I had at the moment.

  And it worked. Frank’s guy stopped fighting and looked around goggle-eyed. That gave Frank the chance to get him in that hammerlock.

  My guy started spinning around in a panic, looking for the shark. Two quick strokes and I was on him.

  “Let me go!” the guy yelped. “The shark’ll get us both!”

  “Yeah,” I muttered as I struck off toward shore, yanking the guy behind me. “Real geniuses.”

  “That might be a record,” Frank said as he rubbed his damp hair with a towel. “I don’t think we’ve ever completed a mission in a day and a half before.”

  I was sprawled on one of the hotel room’s double beds. It was a pretty nice room. Too bad we’d only had one night to enjoy it.

  “Yeah. Maybe we should spend a few days at the beach somewhere down the coast,” I said, only half joking. Okay, I admit it, maybe not even half. “I mean, why not? Mom and Aunt Trudy think this Young Diplomats Conference we’re supposed to be attending lasts almost two more weeks.”

  “Somehow I don’t think ATAC’s going to go for that,” Frank said.

  Yeah. I didn’t think so either.

  In case you’re wondering, ATAC stands for American Teens Against Crime. My dad, Fenton Hardy, started the supersecret agency a few years back. Dad’s a retired PI who did a lot of undercover work in his day, and he realized there were times when an adult agent couldn’t blend in. Like at a BMX rally. In a mosh pit. At a high school prom. Places like that.

  But a teenage undercover agent? Piece of cake!

  And so ATAC was born. Frank and I were the first two teens to sign up. We’ve been fighting crime ever since.

  Dad knows all about it, of course. Mom and Aunt Trudy? Not so much. It can be tough coming up with cover stories every time we take off on a mission. This time it was a fictional Young Diplomats Conference in Washington, D.C. What were we supposed to tell everyone when we returned home after two days instead of two weeks? That we weren’t diplomatic enough? They might believe I’d gotten myself kicked out. But not my brother, Mr. Straight-A-Eagle-Scout.

  Really, that beach thing was sounding like more of a plan all the time. All we’d be left to explain was our tans. And didn’t we deserve a little R & R after solving the case so fast?

  I rolled over and sat up. “We didn’t even get the chance to use our latest gizmo,” I said, lifting my hand. One of the cool things about working for ATAC is the gadgets. This time Frank and I had each gotten rings. Okay, that doesn’t sound very cool. But it was. These looked like ordinary class rings, the kind tons of high schoolers and college students wear. But they each contained a tiny, sophisticated GPS-type device. If Frank and I got separated, we’d be able to use the rings to track and find each other. Pretty important when you work as a team.

  Frank glanced at his ring and shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe next mission.”

  Just then there was a knock at the door. “Room service!” a muffled voice called from the hallway.

  “We didn’t order anything,” Frank said. Then he shot me a suspicious look. “Did we?”

  “No,” I replied. “But that’s not a bad idea. I wonder if they have pizza.”

  Frank was already hurrying toward the door. He swung it open. “Thanks,” he began. “But we didn’t …”

  His voice trailed off. There was nobody there. But a tray topped by a silver dome had been left sitting in the hall.

  “Weird,” I said. “Think it’s a bomb?”

  I was kidding. At least I hoped so. Sometimes being an ATAC agent gives you a warped sense of humor.

  “They must have dropped this food off at the wrong room,” Frank said.

  “Yeah.” I pushed past him and grabbed the tray. “Let’s see what it is before we decide if we should return it. All that swimming made me hungry.”

  I set the tray on a table and pulled off the domed cover. There were no burgers on the plate. No pizza. Not even a bologna sandwich. No bomb, either.

  There was just a thin silver disk.

  “Whoa,” Frank said. “Looks like we don’t have time to hit the beach after all. I think we just got our next mission!”

  Comic Relief

  “Pop it in, bro!” Joe urged as I picked up the disk.

  “Okay.” I grabbed my suitcase and pulled out our portable DVD player. We almost always keep it with us, mostly for times like this. ATAC HQ always sends our mission instructions on disks. They look like ordinary CDs or DVDs, but we know better.

  I set up the machine, stuck in the disk, and pressed play.

  First our ATAC boss, known only as Q, appeared and greeted us. Then his face faded and a logo popped up on-screen: a glowing golden yellow scorpion. It looked kind of familiar.

  “Whoa!” Joe exclaimed. “Deathstalker!”

  Oh, right. Now I recognized the scorpion logo. Deathstalker is the title character in a series of popular comic books. She’s a teenage girl with superpowers, including the ability to sting like a scorpion.

  That was about all I knew. I pretty much stopped reading comics when I was ten.

  But not my brother. He’s still into them. And he calls me a nerd?

  There was no time to harass him about that just then, though. Our mission disks only play once, then they self-destruct. See, that’s not something that just happens in the movies. They don’t actually blow up or anything, but the messages are set to erase after a single viewing. If anyone tries to play the disk after that, all they’ll see is a music video or something.

  Joe tends to get excited and forget that sometimes. More than once, we’ve almost missed our instructions.

  “Focus,” I told him, my finger poised over the pause button just in case.

  He settled down, his eyes glued to the screen. The scorpion logo exploded, shrapnel flying in all directions. Then a pretty, dark-haired girl appeared. She was dressed in black leather from head to toe. The same scorpion was emblazoned on her chest. She stood there for a second, t
hen spun around and raced away.

  “Wait, I’ve seen this!” Joe exclaimed.

  “What?” I hit pause. “What do you mean you’ve seen it?”

  “It’s an early trailer.” Joe waved his hand. “You know, like a preview for the Deathstalker movie. It’s been all over the Internet for the past week or two.”

  “They’re making a movie out of the comic books?”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “All the great comics get turned into movies—usually awesome ones.”

  “If you say so.” I hit play and the trailer continued. More explosions. More of the pretty girl in the tight leather jumpsuit. Lots of action and running around. It was hard to tell what the plot was supposed to be, but maybe that wasn’t important.

  Finally the picture froze on a close-up image of the girl’s face, and Q’s voice came on in voice-over.

  “You’re being called to New York City to pose as extras on a movie set,” Q said. “The movie is a big-budget adaptation of the popular superhero comic Deathstalker.”

  “Like, duh!” Joe broke in.

  “Starring as the title character is a teenage girl named Anya Archer. She was plucked from obscurity after an intense nationwide talent search.”

  “Oh yeah, I heard about that,” Joe commented. “It was on all the entertainment blogs awhile back. Practically every actress in Hollywood wanted the role, but the director insisted he wanted an unknown.”

  Naturally, I’d already hit pause again. “Interesting,” I said. “Mission on a movie set, huh? Sounds pretty cool.”

  “Not just any movie set!” Joe’s eyes were gleaming. “The set of Deathstalker! Oh man—the only bad part is that I won’t be allowed to tell anyone about this!”

  That was part of the ATAC deal. The only way we can pull off our missions is by staying undercover. That means nobody is supposed to know what we do. Most people don’t even know ATAC exists. That includes Mom, Aunt Trudy, and all our friends back home.

  “That’s okay,” I told Joe with a slight smirk. “If you told anyone, you’d also have to admit that you still read comic books.”

  Joe barely seemed to hear me. “I wonder what the mission is.”

  “One way to find out.” I hit play again.

  Q came back on-screen. “ATAC has been called in because of a few mysterious problems on the set, most notably a fire. Anya believes she’s being targeted—that someone is out to get her. Your job is to find out whether she’s right before anyone gets hurt. Since the cast is mostly teenagers, it should be easy for you to blend in as extras on the film. The only people who will know your true identities are Anya and the film’s director, Jaan St. John.”