Hostages of Hate (6 page)

Maddie turned to give Frank a long, disbelieving stare, while Frank concentrated hard on looking as weird as possible.

Finally, Maddie shrugged. "I never see her in classes. Nobody ever does. But I suppose she's in the Student Union. She's usually there, painting signs for weird causes."

Joe stood up. "Maybe I'll take my friend to go meet her."

Maddie shrugged again. "Go ahead. But no way am I going to double with her." She grinned and nodded at Frank. "With him, maybe. But not with her."

Frank pretended not to hear, but the color rose in his face. Callie was in horrible danger, and this girl was trying to flirt with him.

He turned to Maddie and gave her his goofiest smile. "Did I just hear you say you'd like to go out with me? They're having a march to ban chrome on cars. It'll help us save precious natural resources. Maybe you'd like — "

"Um, I don't think I could make it," Maddie said quickly. "But this girl I know, Pia, would probably love to go. I just told your friend here where you could find her."

"Great!" said Frank. "If you change your mind — "

"I don't think so," Maddie said. To Joe, she whispered, "You aren't like that, are you?"

"Oh no," Joe whispered back. "I like chrome on cars. See you later." He waved goodbye to Maddie. All the way out of the cafeteria, he had to fight a wild urge to break into laughter.

"Chrome on cars?" he muttered as they walked to the Student Union. "You smooth-talking devil, you!"

The Student Union was a big underground complex, with lots of places for a sign painter to hang out. Joe and Frank spent a lot of time looking but got nowhere.

While they talked to one kid who was tuning his guitar, a campus security guard walked by. The Hardys tensed for a second, but the guard walked right past them.

"I'm looking for Olympia Morrison," the guard said in a loud voice. "Anybody know where she is?"

"Pia?" One girl pushed back her hair and pointed. "She's over in the corner, painting."

Joe and Frank both followed her arm. There, in the corner, a girl dressed all in black sat with some pieces of posterboard, painting what looked like slogans.

She stopped as she became aware of people looking at her. Then she saw the guard. In one fluid movement, she was up and running.

"Hey, wait!" called the guard. He took a couple of steps forward. But Pia only ran faster.

"Hey!"

"What's going on?" The kids in the room were all looking around now.

The guard just shrugged. "I don't know." He tapped a note in his hand. "The dean just told me to deliver this to her."

But Frank and Joe hardly paid any attention. They were pushing their way through the crowd, already in hot pursuit.

TRACKING PIA MORRISON wasn't easy. For one thing, she had a lead on the Hardys as she left the student union and darted across the campus. For another, it was Friday evening, and the streets of Georgetown were beginning to fill.

"Where did all these people come from?" Joe muttered as more and more people clogged the streets. In seconds he passed some students, two guys in suits with briefcases, a family of tourists, and eight suburban teenagers obviously looking for action.

One of the teenagers jostled Joe back, shouting, "Hey, watch where you're going!" He hooked Joe's arm, swinging him around.

Pia moved like a running back through the opponent's defensive line, zipping easily through momentary openings in the crowds.

Things weren't so easy for the Hardys. They were bigger, so their efforts to make a path usually earned them dirty looks from jostled pedestrians.

Frank's chest tightened as he watched his one hope for saving Callie slip away. His frustration mounted as Pia disappeared into the crowd. He wanted to slam his way through that uncaring herd and catch that girl.

Save it for the bad guys, Frank told himself. Desperately, he rose up on his toes to scan the jammed sidewalk. Then he saw her — Pia was crossing the street. "Come on!"

Crossing in the middle of the block wasn't easy. The traffic was bumper to bumper. But Frank and Joe finally found a space they could squeeze through, and then they had to work their way through the crowd on the opposite sidewalk.

It was slow torture, pushing against the mob. Everyone seemed to be ambling, looking in the windows of the shops along the street. And, of course, the local hangouts had heavy foot traffic in front of them, too. Everything had slowed to a crawl.

The Hardys finally reached the corner and glanced around. Pia wasn't in the crowd. Finally, Frank noticed a dark figure legging it down a side street. "There!"

Off the main drag, they made better time. Joe held out an arm to stop Frank from charging headlong. "Better not make too much noise," he said. "We don't want her turning around to see people running after her."

They moved at a jog, keeping Pia in sight and slowly drawing closer. She led them through a beautiful neighborhood, with rows of old colonial townhouses. The sidewalks were made of blocks of slate, old-fashioned and uneven—perfect for tripping a running pursuer.

After three blocks, Pia turned a corner. Frank and Joe broke into a cautious run. They reached the cross street and saw Pia enter a townhouse in the middle of the block.

A moment later, they were standing in front of the house. Three buzzers stood by the door, one for each floor of the building. The middle one read, "O. Morrison."

Joe whistled. "Pretty nice for a plain college student," he said.

"Maybe Daddy's paying for it," Frank suggested. His voice grew grim. "Or maybe ANWO." He jabbed at Pia's button. "She ought to be upstairs by now. Get ready with your magic accent."

A frightened voice came over the intercom system. "Yes?"

"You are Pia, yes?" said Joe, sounding equally nervous. "You do not know us. But we have a message. You must help us."

Seconds ticked slowly by until the voice on the other side finally said, "A - all right. Come up."

The buzzer sounded, and they headed up the stairs. A door on the second floor swung open, and Pia stood outlined in the light, checking them out. Frank noticed that she kept her right hand out of sight behind the door frame.

As they came level with her, the Hardys finally got their first good look at Pia. She was slender — skinny, really. The black jeans and sweatshirt she wore hung on her, emphasizing rather than hiding her skinniness.

Her dark hair was stringy, and her face fell just short of pretty — a little too pinched to be attractive. Right then, with her lower lip between her teeth, she looked like a scared rabbit. Round glasses magnified her pale eyes.

"S - stay right there," she said as they reached the landing. Now her hand came into view. It was holding a small Beretta, and even though the muzzle was shaking, it was close enough to hit one of them. "Now. What are you doing here? You said something about a message."

"From Mr. Lonnie," Joe said. "I am Josef. This is Franz." Frank nodded. "Mr. Lonnie, he was ... recruiting us." Joe paused for a second, as if trying to think of the right word. "For the New Order. He gave us your name in case anything went wrong."

Joe shook his head. "I think something has. We went to his store — you know, the Hole - in - the - Wall? And there were policemen all around it. I think they were arresting Mr. Lonnie. Franz and I, we did not wait to see. We thought you should know this."

Pia's eyes went round with shock. "First Gustave, now Lonnie. This is bad." Then she abruptly became businesslike, tossing the pistol onto a table by the door. "We'll just have to add their freedom to our demands. Come in. I'll have to decide on our next move." She closed the door behind them.

An open suitcase sat in the middle of the living room, with piles of clothes, papers, and books around it.

"You can see I was getting ready to leave," Pia said. "One of the school cops came to get me today. I think someone may be on to me."

Joe almost opened his mouth to say the guy was just bringing a message, then shut it. He wasn't supposed to know that. He just nodded, marveling at Pia's paranoid life-style.

"I was going to go to the safe house, where we were supposed to meet after the operation. But now — " Pia shook her head. "I don't think so. Lonnie knew about it."

Her rabbitlike teeth started gnawing at her lower lip again. "I know he'd die rather than give away a secret, but we can't be sure. They could use truth drugs on him." She motioned to Joe to go to the window. "We've got a front view of the street. You keep watch. I've got to get ready."

"We will do everything we can to help you," Joe promised.

Pia threw aside most of the clothes and the books. The papers she tossed into the old-fashioned fireplace, setting a match to them. "We'll have to travel light," she said. "There's an important stop we have to make. He'll need my report to change the plan." She coughed. "Someone I need to see." She glanced at them, her newfound trust faltering for a second.

Frank's heart began to pound. That "someone" she was talking about could only be the Dutchman.

"Can we go with you?" he asked. "Josef and I, we are afraid. What if Mr. Lonnie talks about us? We are not yet members of your army, but I hope you will help us."

"Don't worry," Pia replied, all confidence again. "If Lonnie recruited you, that's good enough for me. We take care of our own. I'll make sure of it. After all, you brought us this warning — "

"Pia! Look!" Joe stood by the side of the window so he could keep an eye on the darkening street without being seen himself. Pia and Frank rushed over to peek out.

The street below them was suddenly filled. A long black car, surrounded by police vehicles, pulled up. All of the officers moved out silently.

"A surprise raid," Frank said. His brain slipped into high gear. He recognized O'Neill's customized car. That meant Lonnie had talked. O'Neill—and maybe Fenton Hardy—would soon be bursting through the door. Once again, he and Joe would be shipped off to Bayport—this time under armed guard. If they were lucky, they might make Pia tell them where the Dutchman was. But even if the government captured the ANWO leader, his release would probably wind up at the top of the terrorists' demands.

Would the government really keep the Dutchman in prison and let a planeload of people die? Frank didn't think so. There had to be a better way.

He made up his mind. "Is there another way out?"

Pia nodded. "Right. Come on."

She forgot to pick up her pistol. She even left the papers burning merrily in the fireplace. Frank and Joe followed her into the bedroom, where she started throwing shoes and junk out of her closet.

"I don't — " Frank began as Pia got down on her hands and knees on the closet floor. Then he shut up as he watched her slide out a panel in the back wall. "This will take us into the closet of an apartment in the next building," she explained. "We'll be coming out a block away."

Pia eased her way into the crawl space, followed by Frank and Joe.

I sure hope nobody's home, Frank thought.

As if she were reading his mind, Pia told them, "The apartment is empty. It's rented by one of our people, but he never uses it."

She eased open the closet door on the other side, and they emerged into darkness. Pia headed for the apartment door, but Frank slipped over to the window. "Wait," he whispered as she prepared to open the door. "Look here."

They stared into the street below. It, too, was crawling with cops. "I guess they figured we might go over the roof or something," Pia said. "They must have surrounded the whole block."

"Trapped." Joe breathed out loud.

"No," said Pia. "We still have a way out."

She led them down the stairs to the ground floor, then down another flight to the basement. "Careful," she whispered. "It's old. The ceiling's very low."

"Ah," said Frank, nearly braining himself on a ceiling beam.

Pia fumbled at a shelf, striking a match. Then she lit a candle stub, which threw a small circle of light. "At least we can see where we're going now."

Half bent over, she led them deeper into the cellar. "We're under the sidewalk now," she said. "You can hear some of the footsteps."

Listening carefully, the Hardys could indeed hear noises above them.

Pia led them forward until they faced what seemed to be a blank wall. She counted bricks from one corner, then slammed her hand against one.

With the faintest squeal, the center of the wall began to pivot. "It's more than a century old," Pia said. "Before the Civil War, this was an Underground Railroad escape tunnel for runaway slaves. It goes under the street, through the graveyard, and into another basement. They'll never be looking for us there."

Pia took some keys and money from her bag. These she pocketed and then led the way with her candle, crouching down as she stepped into the musty tunnel. The air smelled as if it hadn't been breathed for at least a hundred years.

The tunnel started out as a bricked vault, but as they went farther along, it changed. The ceiling started to slope, until finally they had to crawl. Then the brick disappeared altogether, leaving them in a dirt tunnel with infrequent wooden support beams.

Maybe this is the part under the graveyard, Frank thought. He had no idea how far they had come. He just followed the dim circle of light that was Pia's candle.

Suddenly, Pia stopped. Frank nearly ran into her. "There's a tricky part here," she said. "One of the beams has fallen in."

Great, Frank thought as she worked her way around the fallen wood. "Did you hear?" he called back to Joe. "A fallen beam."

Joe tapped Frank on the ankle, letting him know he understood.

Then it was Frank's turn to squirm through the half-blocked opening. He eased his shoulders through, careful not to touch the wood. This won't be easy for Joe, he thought.

When he was almost through, Frank heard a noise just above his head. Must be under the street again. That sounds like a truck up there.

There was no time for thought as the truck jarred to a stop—and the roof of the tunnel thundered down on Frank!

THE TUNNEL ROOF didn't fall on Joe. Instead, darkness hit him — a terrible darkness, so deep he could see nothing. One moment he was groping along after Frank, and then came that complete blackness.