The Lazarus Plot Read online

  You cannot do this," said Henri indignantly as he rubbed circulation back into his hands.

  "It is outrageous” agreed Jacques.

  But they took a look at Frank's hands spreading flat in readiness for another karate chop, and Joe's hands balling into fists, and limited further protest to Henri's saying, "You have not heard the last of this." "We will notify the authorities," said Jacques. "You do that," said Joe.

  "Yeah, please," said Frank. "Once they hear our side of the story, you guys can forget about hunting again, unless you want to do it without a license."

  "Okay, okay," said Jacques. "Maybe we do lose our tempers a little. And maybe we were a little too quick on the trigger-especially Henri. I have to admit, it is not the first mistake he makes today. Less than an hour ago, he almost shoot at another person"

  "I tell you, she look just like a deer," muttered Henri.

  “She?" Joe asked instantly. "You saw a girl, near here, a little while ago?"

  "She is wandering around like a lost one," said Jacques. "I have no idea what she is doing here in the middle of the woods. Certainly she is not dressed for it. She is wearing new jeans and a pretty sweater, like she is at a school picnic."

  "Jeans and a sweater," said Joe, trying to keep his voice calm. "Tell me, what did she look like?"

  "A pretty girl, on the petite side, with a face like, how you say, a pixie, and dark hair," said Jacques.

  "Yes, dark hair, like an elk," said Henri. "But you didn't shoot at her?" said Joe. "No, of course not," said Henri.

  "I grab his rifle just in time," said Jacques. "Then I call out to the girl. I think maybe she needs help. But when she hear me, she turn and run” "Which direction?" asked Joe urgently. "That way," said Jacques, pointing.

  "Come on," Joe said to Frank. Without waiting for a response, Joe jogged off in the direction that Jacques had indicated, toward an opening in the trees and thick foliage. "So long," Frank said over his shoulder to the two men as he followed his brother.

  "Looks like we're on some kind of abandoned trail or road," said Joe as he jogged along at Frank's side.

  "A road to nowhere," commented Frank. "It hasn't been used in years."

  "Yes, it has-by that girl," said Joe, keeping up a fast pace until he halted abruptly. He picked a scrap of torn blue woolen material from the branch of a sapling where it had snagged. "I'd know this blue anywhere. It's the same color as the sweater Iola was wearing when I saw her before-and the last time I saw her, when. . ." Joe trailed off, wincing at the memory. Then his voice grew urgent. "Let's speed it up! We're on her trail."

  "But we're coming to a dead end," said Frank, peering ahead.

  A hundred yards down the overgrown road was a tall wire fence topped by barbed wire. On a gate in the fence was a large sign. The Hardy boys were too far away to read the lettering, but they could make out the picture on it. A skull. The universal symbol of death.

  When they reached the fence, Frank read: "Warning. Electrified fence. Property patrolled by armed guards and attack dogs. Trespassers will be shot on sight."

  Joe refused to let that stop him. "Iola must have gotten through this fence-or been taken through it-somehow. The only other place to go is deeper in the woods and I don't see why she'd do that. We've got to get in there." He reached for the gate latch.

  Frank grabbed his arm. "Careful. The electric current might be on. And even if it isn't, you can bet it's locked."

  "We have to get through it," said Joe, peering through the wire mesh. On the other side was what had once been a handsome lawn and garden, but had become a jungle of high green grass, tall weeds, and a rainbow of flowers gone wild.

  "Well," said Frank reluctantly, "I see three options for getting in. We could get a ladder and go over it, but getting past the barbed wire on top would be tricky, and we would be sitting ducks if any guard spotted us. We could cut through the fence, but that would be hard with the current on, and any disturbance in it might set off alarms. That leaves one other way."

  "Going under it," said Joe. "We could get a couple of shovels and tunnel through and have good cover at the same time."

  "Tonight. When we have the cover of darkness," said Frank firmly. "But this is ridiculous, Joe."

  "I hate to wait that long. Something might happen to Iola by then," said Joe.

  "See any other choice?" asked Frank.

  "You and your logic," replied Joe, shaking his head. "Once, just once, I'd like to see you go with gut feeling and not brains."

  "I'd rather use my head and save our necks," said Frank. "Anyway, there aren't many other places in this forest to go. If someone went in side, they're still there. Come on." Frank sighed.

  "Let's get to the general store in the village and buy a couple of shovels. Big ones. We'll have to do some heavy digging tonight. And while we're at the store, we can do some digging there. We can find out if anyone knows anything about this property."

  Two hours later, after a jog back to the station wagon and a drive to the village, the Hardy boys had gotten both the shovels and some information.

  The storekeeper was a tall, lanky, gray-haired man, who was as close-mouthed as most of the citizens of Maine that the Hardy boys had met. But the sight of the money that Frank and Joe laid out for a pair of high-priced shovels' warmed him enough to loosen his tongue when they asked him about the fence in the forest.

  "Figure that must be the old Lazarus place," he said, counting the money twice, then ringing it up on his antique cash register.

  "The Lazarus place?” Frank repeated. "Fact is, they called it the Lazarus Clinic," said the storekeeper. "Folks around here, though, got a different name for it. Lazarus Loony Bin. Some fancy New York doctor opened it and had a lot of rich patients for a while until the folks paying the bills got tired of seeing no results, and the place went out of business." "What's it being used for now?" asked Frank. "Ain't being used. Hasn't been for two, three years," said the storekeeper disdainfully." "Crazy place for a crazy house, in the middle of nowhere. Lost a bundle, that doctor did."

  "Thanks for the information," said Joe. Then he said to Frank, "Time to move."

  "Hey, mister, you're forgetting your shovel," said the storekeeper as Joe dashed for the door. " "I don't think I'll need it," said Joe.

  "Well, mister, our policy is no refunds," said the storekeeper.

  "Don't listen to my brother. We'll take them both," said Frank, picking up the two shovels and following Joe, who was already halfway out the door.

  As soon as they were in the station wagon, Joe said, "If that place isn't operating, the electric current won't be turned on in the fence. There won't be armed guards or dogs. We can go right in with a pair of wire cutters, if the gate is even locked. No wonder Iola disappeared so fast. She must have gotten in easily."

  "I'm not so sure," said Frank. "That fence seemed to be in awfully good repair, and that warning sign looked freshly painted."

  "We'll see when we get there," replied Joe, pressing down on the accelerator.

  Night had fallen and the stars were out in a moonless sky when the Hardy boys arrived at the fence again.

  "Now we'll check this thing out," said Joe.

  Before Frank could argue, Joe splashed some water from his canteen onto the fence.

  "See? No current," Joe said triumphantly.

  "We could have been inside hours ago and have caught up with Iola by now, if you weren't so cautious. Frank, you have to learn that sometimes you just have to go for it."

  With that, Joe turned the handle on the gate and gave a shove. The gate swung open.

  "Easy as pie," he said. "Let's find Iola now."

  "Hey, slow down," said Frank. "Joe, if there's anybody inside at all, it may be some girl, but don't you know that it can't be Iola? Not after what happened. She's gone. You're just setting yourself up for ... " Frank trailed off.

  Joe wasn't listening to him. He was already moving through the overgrown garden, toward the dark shape of a massive building. F
rank, shaking his head, had no choice but to catch up with his brother and try to keep alert to possible' danger for both of them.

  "She's in there, I feel it," said Joe. He shined his flashlight on the massive oak door of what seemed to be a Victorian mansion.

  "The storekeeper was right-this is a crazy place," said Frank.

  "When we were kids, we would have called an old heap like this a haunted house," said Joe. "Except it's not a ghost we're looking for." He reached for the doorknob. "Now we - " Suddenly Joe gasped. "Wh - "

  He and Frank were caught in blazing light that seemed to come from every direction. It blinded them, but they could hear a voice near them quite well. "Freeze - or you will be the dead ones!"

  Chapter 4

  BliNKING, THE HARDY boys turned toward the sound of the voice. But the glare of a spotlight prevented them from seeing whoever was talking.

  "You seem to be interested in entering the Lazarus Clinic," the voice said. It was remarkable in just one respect: There was nothing remarkable about it. It was without an accent of any kind. "Allow us to give you a guided tour. But first, raise your hands."

  Two men dressed in black slacks, black sweat shirts, and black athletic shoes stepped forward.

  They carried military assault rifles poised and ready. Frank and Joe raised their hands.

  "I am glad to see you are being cooperative," said the voice. "Hugo and Fritz have nervous trigger fingers. Now we must have a quick examination of your persons. Hugo, frisk them."

  While Fritz trained his rifle on the Hardy boys, Hugo took their hunting knives from their sheaths, then gave them a swift but professionally thorough going-over, from their ankles to their shoulders.

  "Good, you are clean," said the voice. "Take them inside.” Hugo swung open the door, and prodded by Fritz's assault rifle, the Hardy boys went inside. From behind them the voice said, "Please do not turn around to look at me, unless you want a rifle barrel smashed into your face. Instead take a look around you. This building is unique. It was originally built ninety years ago by an eccentric millionaire, who later went bankrupt. It was converted into a mental clinic sixty years later by an even more eccentric psychologist, who went bankrupt in turn. It is now perfect for my organization to use. Not only did we buy it dirt cheap, but we are assured of privacy here. Our work demands a great deal of privacy."

  "Pretty sloppy of you to leave your front gate unlocked then," said Frank. He got the answer he half-expected.

  "It was no accident that the gate was unlocked-for you," said the voice. "Rest assured, it is locked now."

  "So we walked into a trap," said Frank. "And Iola was the bait."

  "I was told you were an intelligent young man," the voice said.

  "So it was Iola!" Joe exclaimed. "She is here! Tell me where she - " Forgetting himself, he wheeled around to question his captor.

  He didn't get to finish his question-or see who was doing the talking. All he saw was Fritz's rifle barrel slashing toward his face, while in "the background, a figure darted out of sight behind a high-backed chair.

  At the same time, the lightning reflexes that made Joe an ace athlete went 'into action. Before the rifle barrel could touch his face, he grabbed it and pulled it, letting Fritz set himself off balance by his own forward momentum. Then he viciously shoved it away, sending Fritz sprawling" backward into Hugo's rifle.

  "Run for it!" Joe shouted to Frank while he himself dashed through a nearby doorway and down a corridor. Behind him he heard shouts and running footsteps.

  At the end of the corridor was a winding stair way. Joe went up it three steps at a time. On the second floor; he raced down another corridor, rounded a sharp turn, and found himself facing a closed door. The door was metal, in sharp contrast to the old wood of the house and the faded floral carpeting on the floor.

  Joe heard the-footsteps of his pursuers. He hesitated for just a moment before grabbing the door knob and giving it a turn.

  The door opened easily. Joe stepped inside and felt his knees go weak. Stunned, he could only gasp, "Iola."

  She was sitting in a chair facing him, looking exactly the way she did when Joe had last seen her-her face, her hair, even the clothes she was wearing. But now there were electrodes fastened to both sides of her head. Leather straps bound her wrists to the arms of the chair. And her eyes stared blankly at Joe.

  Iola wasn't alone. Four men were in the room. There were a distinguished-looking elderly man with a thick white crew cut and a livid scar across his pale forehead; a short, stout, middle-aged Oriental; a tall, thin youth in his twenties with a freckled face and horn-rimmed glasses; and a massively built man with a shaved skull. All wore white lab coats and the same startled expression as Joe barged in.

  Joe, though, had eyes only for Iola. "What are you doing to her?" he cried. He clenched his hands into fists and moved forward menacingly. "Take those electrodes off her head! Get those straps off her wrists!" He didn't know what he was going to do if they refused-and he never got to find out. Too late he heard a sound behind him. Before he could turn, an arm snaked around his neck.

  Then he felt a jabbing pain in his arm.

  A needle was all he managed to think before the room and Iola's face blurred as Joe slid down the chute to oblivion.

  Oblivion, Joe decided, was like a sleep without dreams. There was no way of telling how long he was out. It might have been a minute or a day later that he opened his eyes and saw Frank's face looking down at him with concern.

  "I was hoping you had gotten away," said Frank. "No luck, huh?"

  "I was hoping you'd made it, too," said Joe, putting his hand to his forehead, which was aching from the aftereffect of whatever drug had knocked him out. Then he said, "Ouch!" It wasn't his forehead that had pained him, though. It was his thumb. Only then did he notice' that his thumb was wrapped in a thick bandage.

  The next thing he noticed was that Frank's thumb was bandaged in the same way.

  "Our thumbs," Joe said. "What happened to them?"

  "I've been wondering the same thing ever since I came to after they drugged me," said Frank. "All I know is how much it hurts-too much to risk taking the bandage off."

  "Cautious as usual, but I guess you're right," said Joe. "Anyway, we've got more important questions to answer. Like where are we, and how do we get out of here? I can't even tell what time of day it is. They took my watch away, along with clothes. The sweatshirt and pants they put on me are two sizes too big. You're lucky. At least they left you with your clothes."

  "They left me with my watch, too," said Frank, glancing at it. "It's ten P. M. We were knocked out for a whole day."

  "Unless they fooled around with your watch to confuse us," said Joe. "In this room, there's no telling." His eyes traveled around the blank white walls of the windowless room. The only opening was a viewing window of unbreakable plastic in the metal door.

  "Good thinking. We have to watch out for dirty tricks," said Frank, nodding. He looked around the room. "I can't see any way out of here. This must have been a high security cell for disturbed patients when this place was an asylum." "We'll have to wait until they take us out of here, and then make a break for it," said Joe. "One of us has to make it. It isn't only for our sakes. Iola is here. I saw her, right before they caught up with me."

  Frank leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "That can only mean one thing. The Assassins are involved in this. They're the only ones who could have gotten their hands on Iola right before the car blew up."

  "So you're finally convinced she's alive?" asked Joe.

  "I can't deny the evidence," said Frank. "They must have yanked her away from the car door a split second after she opened it and a split second before that device triggered the bomb."

  "It's like I told you-I never actually saw Iola get in the car," Joe said eagerly. Then he paused. "But why would the Assassins want to kidnap her?"

  "Who knows what plans they have?" asked Frank. "The only thing we can be sure of is that t
hey're still operating all over the world. Exposing one of their plots and nailing a few of their killers was like chopping one tentacle off an octopus." He set his face in determination. "We have to get out of here. We have to alert the Network."

  "But first we have to rescue Iola," said Joe, a touch of anger in his voice. It was just like Frank to think of the Network first and Iola second. Frank had his dogged sense of duty to the Network-even though that top secret government agency and its contact agent, the Gray Man, had made it clear that they'd rather do without' the Hardys, if only the Hardys hadn't proved so valuable.

  Joe was slightly mollified when Frank said reassuringly, "Of course we'll get Iola out of here. I'm not some kind of monster. But we have to make contact with the Network fast. We have to warn them about what's going on out here in the middle of nowhere."

  "I guess you're right," said Joe reluctantly. "As long as Iola gets number-one priority." "Of course I'm right," replied Frank, and saw Joe's reaction to his smug tone, he again added, "And of course Iola comes first. But we can't just go with our emotions. We have to make plans to cover all possibilities. Like what if just One of us makes it out of here? What does he do then?"

  "He has to waste a lot of time getting back to Bayport," said Joe. "That's the only place we can contact the Network from."

  "We may not have that much time, if we don't want the Assassins to skip out of this crazy house," said Frank. "We have to figure out a way to-contact the Network from here."

  "Look, you were the one who insisted we take a total break from crime fighting," said Joe. You decided to leave our connection with the Network at home. Without that modem the Network gave us, we're totally cut off from them."

  "It was dumb of me, I admit," said Frank. "But look, give me a rundown of how you'll make contact with them. Not that I don't trust you. But I want to make sure you'll do it exactly right if I'm not around. The Network won't tolerate the smallest error. They're really strict about total security."

  Joe nodded. That made sense. Frank was the one who handled the computer hook-up that connected them to the Network's central Washington office. But Frank had taught him how it worked in case of emergencies like this one. Joe went over the procedure in his mind, opened his mouth, and then closed it.