The Lazarus Plot (2 page)

He had never moved faster in his life-not on the football field going for a touchdown, not on the baseball diamond stretching a single into a double, not on a track heading for the tape in his specialty, the hundred-yard dash.

But even as his knees pumped and his feet flew faster and faster, he knew he couldn't reach Frank in time. At the first crunch of Joe's feet on the pine needles, the wiry man wheeled around and leveled his gun at Joe. This was one race Joe couldn't win. He couldn't move faster than a bullet. All Joe could do was brace himself to die.

JOE DID NOT hear the rifle shot he was expecting. He did not feel a bullet slam into him. Instead he heard the wiry man with the rifle gasp, "Aghhh!" as Frank karate-chopped him on one forearm, then the other, in a blur of motion.

The rifle dropped from the man's paralyzed hands, and the man dropped on top of it, after Frank chopped at the back of his neck.

The bearded man reached for the hunting knife on his belt, but he never made it. Joe hit him in a flying tackle, smashing him back against a tree, then let him go and backed off a step. When the bearded man reached for his knife again, Joe lashed a right hook to the jaw. The man went down like a sack of flour. "Good work," said Frank as he removed the 14

wiry man's belt and set about tying his hands behind his back with it.

"Good work yourself," said Joe, doing the same thing to the bearded man. "I thought I was a goner. I thought you went, too. You woke up in the nick of time."

"Actually, I came to a couple of minutes before, but I didn't see any sense in letting those guys know it," said Frank, squatting as he made sure the wiry man was securely tied. Then he stood up.

"Playing possum, huh?" said Joe, giving his man a final check and standing up, too.

"Right," said Frank. "I figured it might be interesting to hear what they had to say to each other when they thought I was unconscious. And of course, it would be a lot easier to make my move when their guard was down." "Did they say anything?" asked Joe. "Yeah, but I didn't understand what," said Frank.

"They were speaking French, I think," said Joe. "You must have understood something, unless that A you got in French class last year was a joke.”

"I just caught a stray word here and there," said Frank, shaking his head. "They were speaking with some kind of weird accent. Plus they were talking real fast, and my head was still ringing, so it all sounded like Greek to me."

Joe laughed, then became serious. "We'll just have to wait until they come to before we find out what they're up to."

"We can speed up the process," said Frank, unhooking his canteen from his belt. "I'll do to them what they did to me-give them a water cure."

A minute later, the men were standing on their feet, shaking their heads.

"Sacre bleu, qu' est-ce qui s' est passe?" mumbled one. "Ma pauvre tete," groaned the other. "Either of you speak English?" asked Frank. "Yes, of course," the bearded man said with a heavy accent.

"Certainly," replied the other one, with a similar accent. "We come from Quebec. We French Canadians must speak both French and English."

"Then you can start talking," said Joe, in a hard voice. "Why were you taking target practice on us?" said Frank. "On you?" said the bearded man. "Why should we shoot at you?"

"Think hard," said Joe, raising his fist-menacingly. "You should be able to remember. It was just about fifteen minutes ago...”

"Mais non, that was you?" said the wiry man.

He turned to his companion. "I told you that you were mistaken when you said you saw deer. You are always so quick on the trigger."

"When you hunt, you must react instantly," said the bearded man defensively. "Otherwise, the deer, they get away. I saw the motion, I was sure it was the deer. Needless to say, I apologize. "

"I must apologize, too, for hitting you over the head," the wiry man said to Frank. "But when I saw you attacking my friend Henri here, I had no choice. Who knew what kind of criminal or madman you might have been?"

"Jacques had to do it," Henri agreed. "After all, you attacked me without any reason."

"That gun you pointed at me seemed like reason enough," said Frank.

"'I heard you coming through the undergrowth, and naturally I thought you were a - "

"Don't tell me-a deer," said Frank. "Listen, before I untie you, promise you won't make any more little mistakes. The woods aren't safe with trigger-happy hunters like you around-especially before the season officially starts." Smiling grimly, he took the bullets out of the rifle he was holding, picked up the other rifle and emptied it, then frisked the men, removing all the bullets from their pockets. Meanwhile, Joe searched their backpacks, which were lying nearby, and removed the rest of the ammunition from them.

"I suggest the two of you try fishing this time of year. It's safer for everyone concerned," said Frank as he and Joe untied the belts from Henri's and Jacques's wrists.

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. Frank, 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!"

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."