Nowhere to Run Read online

  Frank must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew. Switch had him in a bear hug. The man squeezed Frank just below the ribs and lifted him off the ground. Frank felt the air being forced from his lungs as Switch slowly tightened his grip. The big man knew the fight was already over. He was just ending it, the most painful way he knew.

  Frank's lower ribs ached and his lungs screamed for air. He was too weak to kick, and his arms were pinned. Little pinpoints of light swirled behind his eyes — he was going to black out again. His head fell forward.

  Switch chuckled a throaty, evil, triumphant laugh and shifted his grip.

  When the arms around him loosened for a second, Frank snapped his head back, smashing it into the man's nose. Switch screamed and let Frank go, both hands going to his nose. The instant Frank's feet hit the ground, he spun and delivered a crunching kick to the man's jaw. Switch folded to the ground.

  Frank stood over the thug, ready to deliver another blow if the man moved. His lungs felt as though a fire were raging inside as he took in short, choppy breaths. A dull ache rippled along his sore ribs. Switch remained still.

  A steady rhythm of punches echoed from the other side of the van. Frank darted around the van, expecting to help Biker. Instead, he found Biker holding his assailant up, delivering quick jabs to the guy's face.

  "Where is he?" Biker growled.

  "D - d - d - don't ... know," stammered the man.

  Biker was set to deliver another set of blows when Frank shoved him back. Without Biker's support, the man crumpled to the ground.

  "What are you doing, Frank? He would have told me where Frost is." Biker's eyes glowed with rage.

  "If you didn't kill him first!"

  Biker glared down at the man.

  The roar of a motorcycle echoed in the air.

  "The garage!" Biker shouted as he and Frank ran toward the cinder-block building.

  The engine screamed high RPMs, and the cycle exploded out of the garage, shattering the old wooden door. A wood panel hit Biker and knocked him to the ground.

  Frank found himself face-to-face with the cyclist — a tall, gaunt-faced guy with an old scar across his right cheek. The rider swerved his bike, kicking out and catching Frank on the hip. Frank tumbled backward.

  "Frost!" Biker yelled, running into the garage.

  Frank jumped to his feet.

  A second cycle fired to life inside the cinder-block walls. The darkness of the night and the dust thrown up by Frost's escape hid what was happening. But Frank could figure it out.

  "I'm going after Frost," Biker yelled as he downshifted. The cycle spat fire, and Biker shot off into the night in hot pursuit of Frost.

  Frank rushed to the van and hopped in. He had to stop Biker before the wild man got hold of Frost. Frank knew that, given Biker's present state of mind, Frost's life was in danger.

  Thanks to Joe's wizardry, the Hardys' black van was one of the hottest vehicles in Bayport. But Frank couldn't keep up with the two cycles. He slammed his fist against the dashboard as the red taillight of Biker's cycle disappeared into the dark. He jumped as the mobile phone chirped.

  "What?" he bellowed into the phone.

  "Hey, take it easy," said Joe.

  "I've lost Biker."

  "How?"

  "We found Frost and got into a fight with a couple of those Sinbad creeps."

  "What are you doing messing with the Sinbads?"

  "I'll explain later. Where are you?"

  "Home."

  Frank sighed. "I'll be there in about ten minutes."

  Frank found Joe in the kitchen where the younger Hardy was trying to manage an overstuffed sandwich with his one good hand.

  "What happened to your arm?" Frank asked as he poured himself a glass of milk.

  "Sims tried to run me down."

  "What?"

  "Dad was with him." Joe quickly explained about totaling Biker's cycle and refusing to give Sims any information. "I don't think I'll be asking Dad for any favors soon."

  "I warned you about this," Frank said. He sat across from his brother.

  "Don't give me that Frank Hardy I-told-you-so look." Joe raised the sandwich to his lips, only to have half the ham and pickles fall out the back. He put it down with a sigh.

  "You really called Dad a bounty hunter?" Frank asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Asleep. To calm Sims down, Dad had the police put out an all-points bulletin saying that Biker was dangerous and perhaps armed. Then he persuaded Sims to go back to his hotel and wait."

  "You shouldn't have called Dad a bounty hunter."

  Joe looked down at his mangled sandwich. "I know. I lost my temper. You'd think he would trust us. We would never do anything to hurt Dad."

  "He knows that, but he's got Sims to deal with. I don't think it's a good idea to go sneaking behind Dad's back."

  "We're not sneaking! We're helping a friend."

  "Look, I believe Biker's innocent, too." Frank's voice rose. "I just don't want you putting your friend before the rest of the family." The shout strained Frank's bruised ribs. He winced, putting a hand to his side.

  Joe sat back in his chair and stared at Frank. "What's wrong with your ribs?"

  "A grizzly tried to squeeze me to death." Frank filled Joe in about the conversation in the van and the discovery that Frost was from Bayport. "I just hope Biker doesn't find Frost."

  "Why?"

  "I'm not sure if Biker's determined to prove himself innocent or if he just wants revenge. What if he knew Frost was from Bayport and came here looking for him? We could have been an afterthought." Frank glanced at the kitchen clock. "It's almost midnight. I ought to call Callie."

  "Don't bother," Joe said as he pushed his sandwich away. "Brandon and Sue went back to their motel rooms, and Callie's at home." He paused. "Did Biker say anything about him and Sue and Brandon?"

  "Just that Brandon had tried to move in on Sue."

  "Sims claims that Sue's a gold digger, after Brandon for his money." Joe's lips twisted. "That guy's got some really wonderful ideas about people."

  "He's just trying to rile you, Joe."

  "Maybe it's working." Joe looked up at Frank. "Let's get some rest and start over in the morning."

  Neither Frank nor Joe slept well. For both, the night passed slowly.

  Frank's alarm awoke him from a restless sleep six hours later. He found Joe already up and in the living room waiting.

  "Didn't you sleep?" Frank asked.

  "Yeah. A little. You ready?" Joe asked as he zipped up a light fall jacket.

  "Let me get some juice first," Frank protested.

  Just then a loud thump echoed at the front door. Joe jumped.

  "It's just the newspaper," Frank said. "Why don't you check out the headlines?"

  Joe opened the door. Frank gasped.

  Brandon Dalton swayed in the doorway, his boyish features swollen, bruised, and bloody. He stumbled, then caught himself. His eyes were wide with terror.

  "Biker!" he whispered in a hoarse voice. "Biker."

  He took a faltering step, trying to grab Frank. Then he fell to the floor in a heap.

  Chapter 8

  JOE GRIMACED AS he watched the nurse gently rub gooey salve on a cut over Brandon's right eye. Once Brandon was cleaned up, his face didn't look so bad. He would have a swollen lip and a black eye, but there were no serious injuries.

  Not wanting to wait for an ambulance, Frank and Joe had rushed Brandon to Bayport Hospital after he collapsed. Awakened by the disturbance, Fenton had called Sims, and both men followed the boys to the hospital.

  "Well, it doesn't look as if anything's broken." The emergency room doctor yawned as he walked into Brandon's room. "However, I'd like you to stay here for a couple of hours, just for observation."

  Brandon nodded weakly.

  "Mind telling me what happened?" Sims asked from a corner of the hospital room.

  "All I wanted to do was tal
k Biker into turning himself in," Brandon said.

  "Where did you find him?" Frank asked.

  "I didn't — he called me. Wanted me to meet him at the pits."

  "How do you know about the pits?" Joe asked.

  "Biker always talked about growing up in Bayport, being a junior motocross rider and all that drivel. He gave me directions to the quarry, and I met him there about four this morning. All he would say was that he had unfinished business from Mr. Pizza."

  "Mr. Pizza?" Sims perked up.

  "Biker and Brandon had a run-in there," Frank said quickly, "but Biker was just trying to keep Brandon away from Sue."

  "I'd say he really finished the job." Sims tugged on his ear and nodded toward Brandon.

  "We haven't heard Biker's side of the story and you've already got him convicted," Joe said hotly.

  "His guilt should be obvious even to a junior detective," Sims sneered. "First he breaks out of jail — that's real innocent. Then he tries twice to beat up on a friend who's trying to help him, just because he's jealous. The question is, why did he return to Bayport in the first place?"

  "He wanted help," Joe replied.

  "Yeah, right," Sims snorted. "Maybe he wanted to get rid of the only witness who put him behind bars."

  "That's crazy," Joe said with a glance at Frank.

  His brother was silent, astonished that the bounty hunter was saying the same things he'd thought last night.

  Sims puffed himself up and announced, "I'm bringing him in. I've never lost a bail jumper yet."

  "Just make sure Biker doesn't have any accidents before you get him back to New York," Joe warned.

  "That depends on your friend." Sims smiled. "He can go back the easy way or the hard way. I don't judge people, you know. I just bring back fugitives. The courts decide whether they're guilty or innocent." His face hardened. "But nothing, especially two junior detectives, will stop me."

  Joe stepped forward, his fists clenched. He was ready to punch Sims when Fenton walked into the room. Joe froze, but Fenton stepped right past him. "Biker's been spotted," he announced.

  "Where?" asked Frank.

  "Just outside of town, near that old quarry."

  Frank gave Joe a sidelong glance.

  Sims was out the door before Joe could stop him.

  Noticing the concerned look on Joe's face, Fenton said, "I'll stick with him. If we catch Conway, he goes back to Queens with Sims."

  Joe nodded silently.

  "What are you two going to do?" Brandon asked from his hospital bed.

  "We're going to try to find Biker before Sims does," Joe replied.

  "I suggest we stay out of his way for the time being," Frank cautioned. "And I don't mean Sims's."

  "Then what do we do? Sit around and twiddle our thumbs?" Joe was red with anger.

  "I want to take another look at the Sinbads' garage," Frank said, ignoring Joe's outburst.

  "That's a good idea," Brandon said. "I'll come with you." Brandon started to get up from his bed, but only fell back.

  "You'd better stay here," Joe said. "The doctor said you could leave in a couple of hours."

  "Yeah. You're right," said Brandon. "Call me if you find anything."

  "Sure," Frank said. He nodded toward the door, and he and Joe left.

  "Do you believe Biker beat up Brandon?" Joe asked as they neared the garage.

  "I believe Biker is capable of doing just about anything if he gets angry enough."

  Joe stared straight ahead. Biker was capable of losing his temper. Especially when he cared a lot about something — or someone, like a girlfriend.

  Joe had seen Biker lose it completely three years earlier at a motocross event. Another cyclist had tried several times to kick Biker's cycle. Biker detested cheaters. After the race, Biker punched out the other rider and then took a hammer to the guy's motorcycle. When he was done, the cycle was totaled.

  "Looks deserted," Frank said as he pulled the van to a stop and looked around.

  Joe was too intent on looking at the run-down garage to hear Frank. He hopped from the van and scouted the area.

  "It's clear," he said.

  Frank shook his head. He'd have to keep an eye on Joe.

  The door of the garage still lay in splinters where Frost had burst through. Frank and Joe entered the bay area and looked around. Frank tried a door leading to an office while Joe rummaged through some junk in the back.

  The office wall was covered with motorcycle pictures and graffiti of skulls, cycle logos, and blood-drenched daggers. Frank cupped his hand over his nose — the office stank of decayed food. Something moved by the door — a large black rat. It squealed and scurried for the dark safety of a corner.

  "You okay?" Joe yelled from the garage.

  "Yeah," Frank replied. "Just introducing myself to one of the houseguests."

  Joe was growing impatient. He kicked at the rubbish and boxes that lay about the bay area. He still didn't believe that Biker had deliberately lured Brandon out to the pits just to beat him up.

  "Ow!" he yelled as his foot struck a wooden box hidden under a pile of dirty blankets. He looked closer, then threw the blankets aside. Stenciled on the side of the box was DalTime and a Queens address. Joe dug around in the blankets and discovered two more boxes. "Frank!"

  "What's wrong?" Frank asked as he ran into the bay area.

  "Got the time?" Joe smirked as he held up a handful of designer sports watches.

  "Does anybody really know what time it is?" Frank replied, a wide grin on his face. For the first time in two days, he really began to believe that Joe had been right about Biker all along.

  "This proves that Frost was in on the hijacking," Joe said.

  "If the serial numbers match the invoice for the stolen watches," Frank replied.

  "Why don't you just throw a wet blanket on the party?" Joe said sarcastically. Frank was being too cautious again.

  "Look, Frost could have swiped these from any of the shipments he delivered."

  Joe hated to admit it, but Frank was right.

  "Let's take these three cases to Brandon. Maybe he can identify them," Frank said as he picked up one of the boxes.

  Joe stacked the remaining box on the one he'd kicked and followed Frank out of the garage.

  "Going somewhere?" a gruff voice asked.

  Joe lowered his boxes. In front of Frank was a bearlike man, four other Sinbads at his side.

  "Uh, how's business, Switch?" Frank tried to sound calm.

  "Breaking and entering's a serious crime," Switch said with a chuckle. The big, burly biker seemed in a dangerously cheerful mood for a man whose nose was wrapped in bandages.

  "Come on, Switch, let's quit fooling around. We've got to meet Frost at Daryl's," said a short, balding guy with an eye patch.

  "Do what you want with old One-Arm here," Switch said, pointing at Joe's sling. He twisted his wrist and like magic his six-inch blade appeared.

  "I've got some unfinished carving business with the other one."

  Chapter 9

  BRACING THEMSELVES BACK to back, Frank and Joe prepared for a hopeless fight. Frank knew that with his karate skills he could handle one of these guys, maybe two, but strength and numbers were on the Sinbads' side. And that didn't take into account the chains and clubs each Sinbad was holding.

  Switch laughed and lunged carelessly at Frank. Frank moved to one side and delivered a smashing chop to Switch's wrist. The snap of bone and the cry of pain told Frank that Switch's knife hand was now useless.

  Joe quickly decided that the best defense was a good offense. He yelled at two Sinbads as they approached. Surprised, the Sinbads hesitated.

  Unable to use one arm, Joe charged, knocking both guys to the ground. But a third guy slugged Joe in the jaw, stunning the younger Hardy.

  Frank saw Joe hit the ground. The Sinbad who had slugged Joe was raising a baseball bat over his head. With a spinning heel kick to the head, Frank sent that Sinbad to dreamland.

&nbs
p; "Thanks," Joe said as he jumped to his feet.

  "Any time," Frank replied.

  "Kill 'em!" yelled Switch as he held his broken wrist, his face twisted in anger and pain.

  The remaining Sinbads backed Frank and Joe against the garage wall. Clubs were raised and chains spun in the air. The two Hardys were in a fight for their lives.

  A roar split the air. Behind the Sinbads, Frank and Joe could see a black-clad cyclist bearing down on the group.

  "Biker!" Joe shouted.

  The cyclist turned and braked the bike, ramming the three Sinbads. The bikers yelled as they flew into the air. The cyclist twisted the throttle handle and darted away.

  Taking advantage of the confusion, Frank and Joe knocked the three guys out.

  The cyclist rode up to Frank and Joe.

  "Nice going, Biker," Joe said as the cyclist shut off the engine. Then the cyclist unstrapped the helmet and pulled it off. Joe was stunned. "What?"

  Long auburn hair fell from beneath the helmet.

  "Sue!" exclaimed Frank with a laugh.

  "Glad I could help," Sue replied as she stepped from the Harley.

  Callie pulled up in her car behind Sue and jumped out. "Surprise!"

  "How did you know to find us here?" Frank asked as he put an arm around Callie.

  "I called your house and found out about Brandon. Then I called the hospital to check on him," Sue replied. "He suggested that while you two were checking this place out, I should go back to Queens and look at Frost's apartment. I called Callie and asked if she wanted to come with me."

  "And I suggested we meet here and tell you two," Callie added.

  "I'm glad you did," Frank said with a smile.

  "Where did you get that other cut?" Callie asked when she noticed the scrapes left by Switch's brass knuckles.

  "From him," Frank said, pointing to the unconscious Switch. "We met here last night, too. This morning was round two."

  "We found some evidence that will clear Biker," Joe said as he picked up one of the watch boxes.

  "Great," Sue replied.

  "It doesn't clear Biker yet," Frank said. "First we've got to prove that these are the watches that were stolen, and then that Frost actually hijacked the shipment."