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Brand had forced the issue, with his decision to carry out an on-the-spot execution. Frank had to do something immediately.

  He had tensed his muscles for the jump, choosing his target. It had to be Brand. Frank knew Joe would go into action, and he suspected that Lauren and Terry would do the same. Even Hammerlock should be on their side in the resulting skirmish.

  When Frank and Brand tumbled into the sand, the two mercenaries looked around in confusion, as if trying to decide whom to shoot first. They did not have more than a couple of seconds to consider.

  Joe dove wildly, hit the sand on his right shoulder, grabbed Hammerlock's pistol in the middle of a roll, and came up on one knee. The gun felt heavy and gritty with sand.

  Hammerlock elbowed the mercenary nearest him in the stomach and had that man's weapon in his hands before Joe was in a firing position. The last soldier swung his gun toward Hammerlock, but the huge man was gone, swallowed up by the jungle.

  Terry hurled himself into the other soldier with a jolting body block that sent the man and weapon flying.

  The man Terry had hit lay curled up on the ground, gurgling. He did not look as if he would want to move for a long, long time.

  Brand was up, bashing Frank's hands against a sand-covered rock. Once! Twice! Frank tried to hold on to the weapon, but once he realized it was useless, he let go and scrambled away. Brand tried to bring the weapon to bear on Frank, but thought better of it when Joe snapped off a shot with the Super Blackhawk.

  The gun's heavy recoil shook Joe's gun hand, jerking it up.

  Before he could get off another shot, Brand thrashed away into the jungle. They could hear him running.

  Joe looked at the gun in his hand with new respect.

  Frank got to his feet, rubbing his knuckles where Brand had battered them. Joe ran over to him.

  "Miss me?" Frank asked with a grin.

  Frank was the color of mud, from head to toe.

  Joe looked him over in disbelief. "You look like a walking lump of oatmeal."

  "That's a nice way to talk to someone who just saved your life."

  Joe hugged him fiercely. "I don't care if I do get crud all over me!"

  Terry ran up to them, holding one of the machine guns. His face was glowing with victory.

  "I can't believe we did it!" he shouted, and then all three were hugging one another.

  "Someone keep telling me, 'I'm alive! I'm alive!' " Lauren said, joining the group.

  Terry spoke excitedly. "When that spear got Hammerlock and he just yanked it out, I told myself, 'It can't be.' And then when he aimed his gun at you," — he shook Joe happily — "I've got to tell you, I didn't figure your chances were very hot."

  Joe grinned. "Imagine how I felt." He took a deep breath. We all fought Hammerlock. We're all on the same side!

  Terry backed away from the group, wiping mud off his clothes. He took a long look at Frank.

  "Frank," he said, "you're a mess."

  He smiled. "Yeah. But we made Hammerlock miss his breakfast."

  Lauren gave a good imitation of being contrite. "Yes, I feel bad about that." She broke into a laugh of relief. "But I think I can get over it."

  Joe noticed the wet bloodstain on Lauren's side. "How bad is it?" he asked, worried.

  "Not bad," she replied gamely, but he knew it hurt.

  "We should get you patched up. Let's take a seat over here." He indicated a fallen log almost under the tree where Frank had hidden. "Frank and Terry can tie up the big bad men over there."

  "One of them has a lump on his head you wouldn't believe," Frank said as he stopped by the mercenary lying prostrate along the trail.

  "I put it there with his weapon after I took it away from him," Terry said.

  Joe helped Lauren apply an impromptu bandage made from his T-shirt. He wanted to say something to thank her. But every sentence he started just sounded like a cliche. What could he say to someone who had just saved his life?

  "I was so — " He stopped. "I don't know what word to use."

  "What are we talking about?" Lauren asked.

  "When you got shot. When I thought you were dead." He looked away from her, his brow furrowed. "I thought, 'It's happening again. I've failed.' "

  "Failed?" Lauren said. "I can't imagine you ever worrying about failing at something."

  "There was someone—very close to me ... When you got hit, it was like reliving the moment that I lost her. I felt so helpless."

  "Now, that's something I know you're not," Lauren said with a smile. A special light was sparkling in her bright blue eyes.

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "No. I don't feel that way right now."

  "What do you feel like?"

  Joe grinned. "Like getting the bad guys.

  Terry examined the job he and Frank had done of tying the mercenaries to trees. "I think that'll do," he said, satisfied.

  Joe approached them. "I've got a plan."

  "I think I heard it already. It's called, 'Get the bad guys,' " Frank responded.

  "Right. We return to Hammerlock's fortress. No one, but no one, is going to be expecting us to try a move like that." Joe's grin turned wolfish. "We'll catch them with their pants down."

  "He's got a point," Lauren agreed, walking up to them. "And we have some weapons now, besides."

  "Not only that," Terry added, "but they have a communications center there-And it just so happens that my dad taught me how to send and receive. Do you read me?"

  "We're going to get rescued!" Joe said, beaming.

  "Or at least call the police and marines and a planeload of psychiatrists for these loony tunes," Terry said.

  Suddenly they heard a distant shout from deep in the jungle.

  "Brand!" a voice shouted. Hammerlock's voice.

  No answer came. All four of them listened, startled by the intrusion.

  Finally Hammerlock shouted again from somewhere. "Brand! Forget the others! You're mine!"

  The jungle went still again-They listened for a long while.

  Biff made his way painfully over to the group, limping. "Hey! Did you guys forget about me?" he complained.

  Joe clapped his hands together. "Nope. We waited around just for you. Come on, it's time to move out and take over the fortress."

  Biff looked from Frank to Terry to Lauren. "What's he talking about?"

  Joe picked Biff up and slung him over his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll love it!"

  Dark clouds crept over the mountainside. They used the shadows from them for cover until they were close enough to take their first prisoner, one of the guards on the outer perimeter.

  The man wasn't about to argue with two guns aimed at his head. He gladly handed his weapon over to Lauren.

  No one had alerted the men in the fortress to be on the lookout, so it was relatively easy to approach them. They made their prisoner march ahead of them for cover and took new prisoners as they moved deeper within.

  At last, they came to the stairs that led to the dungeon chambers.

  "Terry," Lauren said, brightly, "how would you like to escort me as I show these model prisoners the latest in dungeon accommodations?"

  "Sounds delightful," Terry replied.

  Some of the captured guards turned to see if they were joking. Terry and Lauren smiled and pointed the way with raised gun barrels. The prisoners all decided it would be a very good idea to check out the dungeon area.

  "While you do that Joe and I will look for their communications center. It has to be somewhere on one of the upper floors," Frank guessed, looking about for the stairs that had taken them up to Hammerlock's inner sanctum.

  Frank walked over to a high-backed chair and shifted Biff off his shoulders and into it.

  "And what am I going to be doing?" Biff asked.

  "Pretend you're the king," Joe suggested as he and Frank began to search the premises.

  Biff waved the hand holding the machine gun. "With this, I guess I am."

  The Hardys found the stai
rs. They searched room after room on each floor. Finally they found the radio room on the fourth floor. Two radio operators sat with headphones on, absorbed in the equipment in front of them.

  Frank came up behind them and quickly jerked the headphones away. The two radio men turned to see Joe aiming the Super Blackhawk pistol in their direction; the seven-and-a-half inch barrel was a silent but imposing presence in the room.

  "Recognize it?" Joe asked.

  They tied up the operators with extension cords from one of the closets.

  "Let's go find Terry and let him get this thing operating for us," Frank proposed.

  Frank was feeling pretty good. They hadn't run into any real opposition. No one had been seriously hurt. On the way up the stairs he'd passed a mirror and for once, he had to agree with Joe. He did resemble a walking lump of oatmeal, but it seemed a small price to pay.

  Then as they left the communications room they got lost.

  They had covered so many corridors and gone through so many different rooms that somewhere on the route back they made a wrong turn. They realized it when they entered a long corridor, carved out of solid rock.

  "I don't remember being here before," Joe said.

  "Excellent deduction," Frank commented. They walked slowly down the corridor. It was dimly lit with a single sixty-watt bulb. The shadows they cast upon the clammy walls looked like elongated gray ghosts.

  "Hello," a voice said from behind them.

  Frank halted, glancing at Joe. "Did you hear that?"

  "At least he didn't laugh. I really hate his laugh," Joe said, turning.

  Brand stood at the end of the corridor they'd just come from. He held his machine gun at waist height.

  "You ruined it all," he told them. His voice cracked with emotion. "Brand!"

  The voice calling Brand's name sounded exactly as it had in the jungle. But in those close quarters, echoing off the stone walls, it raised goose-flesh on Joe's neck. It came from behind them.

  The Hardys turned the other way. Hammerlock stood at the opposite end of the corridor, covered with sweat, grease, and blood. His shadow stretched nightmarishly behind him.

  "I told you, Brand. You have to answer to me," Hammerlock growled. His guttural voice sounded more animal than human.

  Frank and Joe looked back and forth. They were caught between two murderous men. In seconds the dimly lit corridor would be filled with bullets—and so would they.

  These rough-hewn rock walls could easily be-come their tomb!

  Chapter 18

  JOE SNAPPED HIS pistol up quickly and pulled the trigger. His target was the dim light bulb. When it shattered, the whole corridor went as black as the interior of a crypt.

  The sound of the shot reverberated through the room.

  The Hardys each dove for an opposite wall of the corridor, pressing against the cold stone. Sharp edges dug into their backs.

  Rapid gunfire lit the blackness in sudden spurts from both ends of the corridor. Joe squeezed the trigger of his gun again. Click!

  "Our cannon just ran out of ammunition," he whispered to Frank. "Now what do we do?"

  Bullets ricocheted off the walls at the ends of the corridor.

  "Let's go for Brand!" Frank whispered. Fortunately the racket of the gunshots kept them from being overheard by either of the men. "He's closer."

  "And not as strong," Joe added.

  They moved as quietly as they could along the corridor, trying to stay flat against the walls. Their luck held as the bullets continued to rip down the middle of the long hall.

  The gunfire abruptly ended on both ends of the room, as if by some cue. With the absence of noise, the place became darker, more ominous.

  Joe froze. He knew they must be close to Brand. But he couldn't even see Frank, who was only across the width of the corridor from him. He listened. Nothing, just silence as vast as the darkness. He could feel his hand growing sweaty on the heavy gun.

  Brand cleared his throat.

  The sound was so close to Joe that he almost jumped back. Instead, he flung himself into the darkness, trusting his ears. He rammed into Brand, both of them tumbling to the floor. Hammerlock heard the scuffle.

  "Brand!" he shouted. "You want to know what I'm doing, Brand?"

  The major whacked Joe with the machine gun in a desperate effort to get free. Frank managed to grope through the dark, guided by the sounds of struggle, and pried the weapon loose from Brand's hands.

  "I'm putting on my light-intensification goggles, Brand! And you know what that means? It means I can see you in the dark. I can see your little friends! And you can't see me!"

  Hammerlock's voice seemed to spur Brand into panic. His fists flailed wildly, but most of the blows he delivered glanced off.

  "Ah, I see all of you. Having a good time down there?"

  As Hammerlock's voice faded, they could hear him stepping quietly toward them along the stone floor.

  "I'm going to have to kill you all," Hammerlock said. His voice sounded almost rational. Almost.

  Frank managed to get a choke hold around Brand's neck. Gurgling, the man clawed at his hands. But Frank held tight. When Brand's arms went limp, Frank let go.

  Joe jumped to his feet. "Let's get out of here!"

  "My sentiments exactly!" Frank exclaimed.

  They ran through the darkness, afraid that at any moment they might trip over some obstacle. Reaching the end of the corridor, they turned blindly. "Come on!" Joe called. He ran on for about ten feet.

  Then he crashed into a wall.

  "Dead end!" Joe said, as if he couldn't believe it. Desperately, he ran his hand along the obstruction. "Wait! A door!"

  "Open it!" Frank urged as he caught up. Joe's fingers searched for the knob, found it, and his hand slipped on the metal. Locked!

  "Ah! There you are!" Hammerlock said from somewhere in the darkness. "End of the game. I win."

  "Break it in!" Frank shouted.

  Joe hit the door with his shoulder. He yelled in pain. The door remained fast, but his shoulder felt as if it were broken in a dozen places.

  "Not with your shoulder," Frank admonished. "Kick it in!" He came up beside his brother. "Together!"

  They both kicked out at the same time, right at the door handle. There was a splintering sound, but the door held.

  "Nice try," said Hammerlock, and his voice was frighteningly close in the dark.

  They kicked again. Wood tore with grinding, splintering sounds. But still the door held.

  "If you only knew how clearly these light-intensification goggles let me see your futile efforts." Hammerlock sounded as if he were right on top of them. "Of course, I could shoot you now. I could have shot you when I first rounded the corner. But I admire effort, even if it is hopeless. Too bad I'm going to have to call a finish to this little game."

  They heard the click of a gun chamber.

  "It really is the end of the game, you know," Hammerlock said matter-of-factly.

  They kicked out again. This time, miraculously, the door rebounded inward, banging against the wall. Beyond were high windows, reaching to the roof, and through it the sun. The dark clouds had passed.

  The Hardys blinked in the sudden brightness.

  But behind them, Hammerlock screamed. "The light! Noooooooo!" The colonel clutched at the goggles, trying to rip them off. He dropped the machine gun he had been carrying.

  The intensified sunlight seared through his eyes, incredibly brilliant. Bellowing in pain, Hammerlock tore the goggles off, crushing them in his big hands. He staggered around—arms groping—blind.

  Joe walked up to the colonel, who was flailing desperately with his arms.

  "Hammerlock?" Joe said quietly.

  Hammerlock lunged for him. And missed!

  Joe whacked him over the head with the butt of his gun. Hammerlock hit the floor. He didn't seem to mind that the floor was stone. He appeared to be asleep.

  "Good night," said Joe.

  Terry looked at the radio equipm
ent and said, "No problem. Give me five minutes and I'll have this baby humming." He started flipping switches. "Who do you want to call to come and rescue us?"

  "Some rescue," Biff moaned. "I'll be free only until I get home. Then I'll be grounded for the next nine years—if my father doesn't kill me first."

  "I think your mother has first dibs on killing you," Joe said comfortingly.

  He walked over and patted Frank on the back. "Well, Frank, you might be kind of a nerd sometimes, but you always come through in a pinch."

  "Is Frank really a nerd?" Lauren asked, her eyes merry now that the danger was over.

  "Well, he loves to play with his computer and he can't dance and he has no sense of humor at all," Joe replied. "Ask Biff."

  Frank threw up his hands. "I don't know why I'm so misunderstood. I'm a fun kind of guy." He brushed his hand through his dark hair and saw that it came away covered with chunks of crusting mud. "Why should I get this flak just because I have superior intelligence?"

  Joe brushed away some more of the dried mud from Frank's shoulder. "That's not flak. That's flakes!""

  They stepped outside, onto the battlements of the old fortress. Sitting side by side, tied hand and foot, were Brand and Hammerlock. ]

  The last rays of the sun threw alternate bands of orange and black over Hammerlock's face. He almost looked like a human tiger.

  "Looks like your eyesight is back," Frank said.

  "Oh, I recognize you." Hammerlock's voice was a low growl in his chest.

  "Hey, lighten up, Colonel," called Joe from the doorway. "At least you're out here in the fresh air. The rest of your boys are locked up in the dungeons."

  The hate in Hammerlock's eyes was terrifying. "Why do you leave me with this traitor?"

  "To keep an eye on you," Lauren said. "I wouldn't trust either of you alone."

  "The next sound you hear will be that of helicopters," Joe cut in, "coming to take old Orville here to jail. And as for you, Colonel — well, I don't know where they'll put you. Some kind of — "

  "Enough!" Sweat broke out on Hammerlock's forehead as he wrenched against the ropes holding him. The muscles on his arms bulged, his snake tattoo writhed. Then, unbelievably, Joe, Frank, and Lauren heard a snap! The ropes tore loose from Hammerlock's wrists.