The Last Laugh Read online

  A second later fire shot from Flame Fiend's sleeve. Frank ducked, and the column of flame splattered on the wall behind him. Seconds later, the smoke alarm whined on.

  Flame Fiend moved his hand to the left and set fire to the wall where the doorway was. Flames quickly covered the entire wall. The room's sprinklers came on, but the spray of water had little effect on the rapidly spreading flames.

  The flame compound must be mixed with gasoline to burn like that, Frank thought. Quickly he turned back toward Parente, who was leaning against the wall with a dazed expression. Before Frank could do anything, Flame Fiend strode over to Parente and cut him across the jaw with a terrific right cross. Parente collapsed in a heap in the corner.

  The red-costumed figure gestured again, this time hurling a shaft of flame that nearly struck Frank.

  Then Flame Fiend turned back to the unconscious Parente and lifted him onto his shoulder. Laughing crazily, the criminal turned and strode through the wall of fire with Parente slung over his shoulder.

  By now, choking clouds of smoke had begun to fill the room, and Frank began coughing as he breathed it in. Across the room he saw that Chet, too, was coughing and choking.

  Suddenly Frank realized with horror that the deadly wall of fire that covered the exit was advancing on them. Flames leapt from the burning walls, driving Frank and Chet farther against the far wall. Heat scorched Frank's face, and he could feel himself growing dizzy from the choking fumes.

  We're sunk. We can't get through the door, Frank thought. There's no other way out of this room!

  Chapter 7

  Frank doubled over in a sudden coughing fit. When he straightened up, he noticed a patch of blue next to him. It was just visible through the smoke.

  In a flash he realized that the window looked out over the hotel pool. That's it! he thought. Grabbing the heavy desk chair Parente had been holding, he shouted, "Chet, follow me!" Frank swung the chair at the window with all his strength, smashing it outward in a bright shower of glass shards.

  "We're going to jump for it, Chet!" Frank shouted over the roar of the fire.

  "Out the window?" Chet shouted back, not believing his ears.

  "It's our only chance!" Frank shouted.

  The curtains framing the picture window had caught fire now and were flaring toward the boys. Chet scrambled up on the windowsill, Frank right behind him.

  "Aim for the deep end," Frank told Chet.

  Then Frank pushed off from the sill as hard as he could. He heard Chet's yell right beside him.

  "WHOOOAAA!"

  Frank cut the water cleanly, sinking almost to the bottom of the pool's deep end, then kicking straight back to the surface. Almost numb and sputtering for breath, he looked wildly around for Chet, and was relieved when he saw his friend bob to the surface.

  Chet choked on the water as he made his way to the pool's edge.

  "Boy, that was a cannonball to end all cannonballs!" he gasped.

  "At least we're alive," Frank told him.

  Suddenly Frank was aware of being the focus of attention of a growing crowd. "Chet, everyone's staring at us," Frank muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  The perimeter of the pool was rapidly being filled by comic conventioneers, some of them already dressed in the costumes they would wear in that night's costume contest.

  "I've got an idea, Frank," Chet whispered. "Just follow my lead."

  Chet stroked over to the nearest ladder and hauled himself out of the water. As Frank followed him, Chet bowed deeply to the crowd, and the conventioneers immediately applauded and cheered. The cheering increased as Chet turned to another portion of the crowd.

  Frank smiled disbelievingly. "Chet, why are they cheering for us?" he whispered as he joined his friend.

  "Because we made it into the pool from a third-floor window," Chet explained with a smile. "They think it was a stunt."

  Just then Frank caught a fleeting glimpse of a face that set off warning bells. He twisted his head around to get a better look, and sure enough, it was the familiar hawk-nosed profile of Harry Saul.

  Saul was staring up at the third floor, where flames billowed out of the window of Parente's room. The crowd suddenly noticed the flames all at once. A girl screamed, and in the distance, Frank heard the high-pitched wail of a fire truck as it approached the hotel.

  Frank's eyes flicked back to where Saul had been standing, but he was gone.

  ***

  Frank wanted to get out of his wet clothes, but he knew he had to report Parente's kidnapping and the fire to the authorities right away, so he and Chet stopped at a pay phone in a back stairwell and called Sergeant Hanlon's office. Then Frank and Chet returned to their hotel rooms to change clothes.

  Frank called the convention center and had Joe paged, and within fifteen minutes the three boys had reassembled in the Hardys' room.

  "I heard about your daredevil leap into the pool. Are you okay?" Joe said as soon as he'd walked through the door. His blue eyes were shining with excitement.

  "We're fine, Joe," Frank assured him. "But the kidnappers got Parente."

  "What? Those crooks seem to be everywhere!" Joe said in frustration. After a pause he added, "Well, at least I picked up more info about Johns."

  "Is it a lead on the kidnappers?" Frank asked eagerly.

  "Nope," Joe replied, "but it is interesting."

  Joe took a can of cola from the mini refrigerator in their room and took a long drink.

  "I was talking to Morrie Rockwitz, this art dealer who used to deal with Johns."

  "What'd you learn?"

  "He didn't tell me much," Joe said. "He admitted he'd bought and sold Golden Age artwork with Johns over the years, but he didn't seem too eager to tell me anything else. He did accidentally let me see something real interesting, though," Joe added.

  "When I walked up to his table, it was deserted, and Rockwitz was standing behind it studying a piece of artwork. As soon as he noticed me, he slipped it into a big art portfolio, which he left unzipped, fortunately."

  "Why fortunately?" Frank asked.

  Joe tilted his head back to drain the rest of his soda before answering. "Because when I glanced down into his portfolio I saw a Golden Age cover that supposedly got burned up with the rest of Johns's collection!"

  Frank's eyes widened. "Are you sure of that, Joe?"

  "Positive," Joe replied firmly. "It was the same cover Tom managed to save part of - the corner from the one with the giant robots. And that means - "

  "One of them must be a fake," Frank cut in. "Did you ask Rockwitz about the cover?"

  "No, but as soon as he saw me notice it, he got real nervous. He started sweating a lot, and then ended the conversation in a hurry."

  "Oh, yeah?" Frank asked. "I think I'd like to talk with this Rockwitz guy."

  "You can't," Joe told him. "Right after I got finished talking to him, he left the dealers' room. He made some kind of excuse about a meeting."

  "I think we should track him down," Frank said. "There's something funny going on with Johns's art collection. Somehow this collection is tied in with the kidnapping.

  "Leave him to me, Frank," Joe said confidently. "Once we find Rockwitz, I can play him like a violin."

  Frank grimaced. "Cut the drama, Joe."

  "This case is getting more complicated by the minute. First a kidnapping, then two, then three, and now maybe art forgeries to boot. It beats me how we're going to solve this one before our time runs out."

  Frank nodded. Obviously, one of the covers was a forgery, but which one - the one that got burned or the one Rockwitz had? Could it be that Johns had sold Rockwitz some fakes? If so, maybe Rockwitz was involved in the kidnappings. Or maybe Rockwitz was working with Harry Saul. But what about Kaner and Parente? Where did they fit in? Frank shook his head. One thing was sure - they needed more information.

  "We're up against a gang of pros, Joe," Frank commented. "But like Dad always says, 'To catch crooks, you've just got to outth
ink them.' " Turning to Chet, he asked, "Is there anyone else from Johns's staff that we can talk to?"

  "Dewey Strong," Chet replied. "He's been on Johns's staff longer than anybody."

  "You mean that artist we saw this morning?" Frank asked. He frowned, remembering how Strong had given them the cold shoulder. "He wasn't exactly eager to talk to us."

  "We've got to give it another try," Joe insisted. "We don't have any choice. Come on. Let's head back to the dealers' room."

  When the boys returned to the table where Strong had been earlier, he wasn't there. When Frank and Joe asked about him, they were told Strong had left.

  Joe frowned, then turned to Chet. "Do you know where Strong lives?" he asked.

  "No, but I bet Tom does."

  Chet and the Hardys found Tom in another corner of the dealers' room, sorting through a stack of Golden Age artwork.

  "What's up, fellas?" Tom inquired as he saw the boys approaching.

  "We need Dewey Strong's address," Joe told him.

  "Sure." Tom bent over, zipped up his portfolio case, and picked it up. "I'll take you there," he told them.

  "Great," said Joe.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later Joe rounded the corner of the street that Dewey Strong lived on. Tom pointed out a five-story brick apartment building at the end of the street. Behind it was a fifteen-story steel-and-glass monolith that dwarfed Strong's building.

  Joe came to a halt in front of the apartment building, and the four boys hopped out and headed for the entrance. The front door of the building was unlocked and the lobby was empty, so Frank, Joe, Chet, and Tom simply got on the elevator and rode to Strong's fifth-floor apartment.

  As soon as the elevator doors opened, Joe saw that one of the apartment doors had been kicked in, just like the doors in the other kidnappings.

  He sprinted down the hall and into the apartment, which was a shambles. All the furniture was overturned, and the floor was littered with books, broken glass, and the scattered pieces of a chess set. The TV was hissing on a dead channel, and a framed comic-book cover hung at a crazy angle on the wall, its glass smashed in a jigsaw puzzle of cracks. He felt a sick sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach as he scanned the room.

  Joe's attention was drawn to something in the center of the wall: a note pinned to the wall with a steel ninja star.

  "That's just like the ninja stars Whip Scorpion uses," Joe heard Chet say behind him.

  Joe reached for the star to pull it from the wall, but a hand clamped around his arm, stopping him.

  "Don't touch it, Joe. You'll smudge the prints," Frank insisted.

  Pulling out a handkerchief, Joe wrapped it around the star and pulled it from the wall. He carefully set the star down, then opened the envelope, using his handkerchief. The note inside was in word-processor printing on plain white paper, like the first ransom note, Joe recalled.

  We want $100,000 for Strong. If all ransoms are not paid by midnight tomorrow, he will die with Kaner and Johns.

  Whip Scorpion.

  As he finished reading, Joe heard a crashing thump overhead. He shouted, "Someone's on the roof!"

  Joe ran out into the hall and headed for the red exit sign at the end of the hall. He ran up the wide, twisting stairwell to the roof, hearing Frank a few steps behind him.

  Joe threw open the door to the roof with a loud bang, startling two people climbing up the corner of the adjoining building. They were about eight feet off the roof of Strong's building. Joe recognized one of them as Dewey Strong. His abductor looked like a creature from another planet - or from the pages of a comic book, Joe thought wryly. He wore a black costume that featured flexible bands of body armor around his legs, arms, and torso. His head was covered by a grotesque black insect-head mask topped with antennae. He held Strong with one arm locked around his chest, and the other twisting Strong's left arm behind his back. But in the gathering dusk, it was hard for Joe to see exactly what was going on.

  Joe sprang into action and scrambled up a big air-conditioning duct. Strong's legs were still within reach, so he grabbed both of his ankles and tugged. Backing up the wall, Whip Scorpion began to pull on Strong's upper body, but Joe hung on determinedly.

  Suddenly Whip Scorpion kicked away from the wall and released Strong's upper body. Joe knew he couldn't hang on to the wiry old cartoonist, so he let go of Strong's legs, too. Joe winced as he heard Strong hit the roof with a loud thud.

  Then, before Joe had a chance to react, Whip Scorpion leapt and swept Joe from his perch. He held him in a hammerlock.

  Joe heard Whip Scorpion whisper, "Haul me up," and then his words were followed by a burst of static. Joe felt himself being jerked up into the air, and then Whip Scorpion pushed off from the side of the tall building.

  Caught in Whip Scorpion's iron grip, Joe swung out over the edge of Strong's building in a wide arc. Far below he could see the street and sidewalk. Suddenly Whip Scorpion pushed off from the building again and let go of Joe.

  Joe yelled and watched in horrified fascination as the pavement far below rushed up at him.

  Chapter 8

  Joe fell past Frank, then was lost to sight.

  "Joe!" Frank shouted.

  Frank heard a loud crash below. He and Chet and Tom rushed to the edge of the roof and looked down. Joe was several feet below them, dangling by one hand from a bent metal bar supporting some solar panels that were bolted to the front of the building.

  "Joe!" Frank yelled again. He tried to reach his brother's hand, but Joe dangled several feet out of reach.

  "Hurry, Frank!" Joe called.

  Just then the bar Joe had grabbed on to bent with a screech, dropping Joe another foot closer to the ground.

  "This thing won't hold!" Joe shouted. "Get me up, quick!"

  Frank turned to Chet. "Chet, you've got to hold my ankles while I grab Joe!" Frank felt Chet's strong grip on his ankles, and he wormed his way over to the edge of the roof to hang down headfirst. Joe's outstretched right hand was only inches below his grasp.

  "Drop me down a little, Chet," Frank called. He felt his friend ease him a few inches lower, just enough so that Frank managed to grab Joe's wrist in both his hands. Joe let go of the support and grabbed Frank's right arm.

  "Pull us up!" Frank ordered through gritted teeth.

  Chet gave a mighty heave. Sweat beads popping from his forehead, he rocked back and slowly pulled Frank toward him.

  A moment later Chet saw one of Joe's hands suddenly appear on the edge of the roof, then the other hand, then Joe's face, grimacing as he hauled himself up.

  When his brother was safely on the roof, Frank let go of him. "You all right, Joe?" he asked with concern.

  Joe moved his legs and arms around gingerly. "My right arm almost got pulled out of the socket," he said, "but I'm still breathing."

  Frank saw that there were some scratches on Joe's face and arms, but there didn't seem to be any serious injury.

  "Man!" Joe said. "Another second and I would have been testing my flying skills!"

  The joke suddenly reminded Frank of the costumed kidnapper, and he looked over at the next building. In the dim purple-and-orange glow of sunset, he could make out no movement, but he thought he saw a slender glint of metal along the side of the building.

  "They got away again!" Frank exclaimed in frustration.

  "Yeah, but at least they didn't get Strong," Joe reminded him. "Let's see how he is."

  Joe, Frank, and Chet joined Tom, who was bent over Strong. Strong lay on his side unmoving, his eyes closed, his face a rigid mask of pain.

  "How is he?" Frank asked Tom, kneeling down by him.

  "His leg might be broken. I don't know what else," Tom said.

  "Chet, call an ambulance. You and Tom wait here with Strong. Joe and I will join you at the hospital later," Frank said.

  "They'll probably take him to Saint Mary's. It's three blocks from here," Tom said as the Hardys turned to go.

  ***

 
; Frank and Joe talked their way into the neighboring apartment building by explaining to a bewildered security guard about the kidnapping attempt. On the roof they found a large winch chained to an upright drainpipe.

  "Here's the cable Whip Scorpion descended on," Joe observed, pulling up a length of strong steel cable.

  Frank held up an aluminum mountaineer's D-ring. "He must have rappelled down the side of the building, then gotten hauled up with the winch for a quick getaway."

  Joe joined him beside the winch. "Any clue as to where this equipment came from?" he asked.

  "Nope." Frank pointed to the side of the winch, where an identifying metal plate had been pried off. "They took off the nameplate and filed away the serial number. This stuffs clean as a whistle."

  Disappointed, Frank and Joe left the apartment building, and after a quick supper drove to Saint Mary's Hospital, where they joined Tom and Chet in Strong's room.

  Strong's leg was broken and in an elevated cast; he was dressed in a white hospital gown. The old man looked sleepy from the sedation, but Frank thought he saw Strong's expression brighten when they came in.

  "How're you doing, Mr. Strong?" Frank asked.

  "I'm alive, thanks to you Hardys," Strong replied. "At least that's what Tom and Chet told me."

  "Do you have any idea who these kidnappers are?" Frank asked him.

  Strong's face hardened. "No, but I got a pretty good idea who hired them - Harry Saul! There's a lot of bad blood between Saul and Johns. It'd be just like old Harry to use his characters to get back at the enemy."

  "Sounds pretty fantastic," Joe observed.

  "Harry's about the meanest son of a gun I ever met," Strong said quietly. He paused. "Besides, I know where there's proof."

  "Proof?" Frank asked urgently.

  "A letter," Strong told them groggily. His voice was fading as the sedative was making him sleepier. "A couple of days before the kidnapping, I saw Barry reading a letter. He got - real scared. Told me - told me afterward it was a threat from - Saul."

  Strong's voice became an inaudible whisper. Frank thought he'd fallen asleep, until Strong opened his eyes a crack. "Take my keys - Go to - the Zenith offices - Letter's in Barry's desk - "