Frank kept moaning. His eyes rolled up into his head.
“Guys, we have to do something!” I cried. “Sometimes they’re so bad he stops breathing.”
“What do I care?” David asked. But I could see Dorian, Kelly, and Coach Noonan exchange concerned looks.
“Let me get over there,” Coach Noonan said tensely. “I took an emergency medicine class in college. I think I can help him.”
Noonan was sitting on my right side. He quickly unclipped his seat belt and stood halfway, leaning over me to get to Frank.
I pulled the Taser from my waistband and shocked him.
“AAAAAAAUUUUUGH!” Coach Noonan yelled.
Things got chaotic for a minute, with Coach Noonan yelling, Kelly and Dorian screaming, and Frank miraculously recovering and trying to get out of the way. But when the smoke cleared, so to speak, I’d shocked Dorian too, and Frank had wrestled Kelly into the corner, where he was holding her.
I slipped my arms, still with the wrists bound, over David’s head and pulled tight, nearly choking him.
“We can do this the easy way,” I told him, “or the hard way.”
“Let go of me!” David insisted.
But when he struggled and wasn’t able to shake me off, I said again, “Easy way or hard way?”
He groaned. “What’s the easy way?”
“You take us back to the baseball field at Waltham Park,” I said. “The police should be waiting there.”
“Are you crazy?” David scoffed. “I’m piloting this thing! Whatever thuggish game you’re trying to play, I’m in charge. And there’s no way I’m giving up that easily! You can do what you want to the others—I’m not letting you down anywhere but the ware—”
BZZZZZT.
I Tased him.
David slumped to the floor.
The helicopter lurched to the left.
Kelly screamed. “AAAAAAAAAAUGH! ARE YOU CRAZY?! We’re all going to die!”
I looked at Frank. “Maybe not,” I said, turning back to Kelly. “Do you have a pocketknife, or maybe a set of keys?”
She looked at me like I was out of my mind but produced a set of car keys. I grabbed them and quickly used them to poke through the duct tape binding Frank’s hands.
“All right, bro,” I whispered to him as the helicopter lurched sideways again. “There’s no time to waste. Get in there!”
17
CRASH LANDING
FRANK
I HAVE A SECRET.
A secret is different from a dream. A secret is something you’re not proud of doing, but maybe you’re good at it, and maybe it gives you pleasure.
My secret is that I play a lot of video games.
I’ve actually been trying to cut back as of late. But up till a couple months ago, I was playing quite a bit, and the game I was the best at was ’Nam Helicopter Hero.
And I know it sounds like a stretch, but the real-life controls of the Bound Industries copter looked pretty similar to the digitized controls I’d used in ’Nam Helicopter Hero.
“Have a seat, Frank,” Joe said, pushing David Bound’s unconscious body aside.
I sat. First I leveled out the copter, and then I began piloting us on a course to the south, back toward Toms River.
“Give me your phone, Kelly,” I heard Joe say, and she must have passed it over, because I could hear my brother dialing.
“Yeah, hi, this is Joe Hardy. I called earlier, from Waltham Park in . . . ? Yeah, right. Well, listen, the crooks got us into the helicopter—yeah, I know, they were very strong—and I kind of Tased the pilot and now my brother is trying to fly the thing from his experience playing video games.”
He paused.
“’Nam Helicopter Hero.”
Pause.
“Yeah, it is very realistic. But listen, do you maybe have someone you could call who can help us land this thing? We’re in kind of a pickle, I guess you’d say.”
Pause.
“Oh great, thanks.”
“IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?” cried Kelly.
“Sit down,” Joe told her. “You have to stay calm. Oh, okay, thank you. Here, Frank.”
He held the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Hi,” a friendly female voice said. “Um, are you flying a helicopter right now? Could you use some assistance?”
“Yes, and yes, that would be very helpful,” I replied politely.
“Okay, great,” she said. “Um, why don’t you start by telling me what you see. . . .”
• • •
About thirty minutes later, we came to a somewhat shaky landing on Bayport High School’s football field.
As soon as the landing skids hit the ground, Kelly let out a yelp.
“Oh, thank God!” she cried. She jumped forward and then suddenly her arms were around my neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“You know,” Joe said, “you could have avoided that whole experience by not agreeing to do the bidding of some psycho.”
Kelly glared at him. Joe ignored her and opened up the cockpit door.
Outside, we were greeted by bright flashing lights—police cruisers and three ambulances were waiting for our arrival. Two figures also stood silhouetted on the field: Principal Gerther and Dad.
As soon as Joe poked his head out, police officers and EMTs began swarming toward the helicopter.
“How many people are unconscious?” an EMT asked Joe.
“Three,” Joe said, “and the girl in there who’s conscious is also a bad guy, just to make that clear.”
The EMT gave him kind of a funny look but pushed into the cockpit anyway. I stood up from the controls. My legs felt hollow.
“Nice job, Frank,” Joe said, clamping me on the shoulder. “I knew we could count on you!”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling. We squeezed out of the copter and ran over to meet Dad and Principal Gerther.
“BOYS,” said Principal Gerther. “I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW GRATEFUL I AM! IF I HAD KNOWN WHAT DASTARDLY PLANS THAT DAVID BOUND HAD IN STORE, I WOULD HAVE . . .” He trailed off.
“Principal Gerther,” I said, “are you wearing your hearing aid?”
He looked surprised. “NO,” he said, “I MUST HAVE FORGOTTEN. GOING TO TAKE SOME GETTING USED TO!”
I smiled and looked at Dad. “Is Owen all right?” I asked.
“If you mean the security guard,” Dad said, “an ambulance took him to Bayport Memorial about half an hour ago. We’ve been told he’s conscious and feeling as well as could be expected.”
“Phew,” I murmured.
“Principal Gerther,” said Joe, turning to the principal with an uncomfortable look, “I have some bad news.”
“WHAT’S THAT?” asked Gerther, looking beyond us to the helicopter.
Joe looked at me and winked. “If it’s all right with you,” he said, “I think we’re ready to quit the basketball team.”
18
A SOUND ENDING
JOE
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
Or so they say.
The Bayport High School Tigers couldn’t quite recover from the aftershocks of David Bound’s evil hazing plan being found out. Coach Noonan was fired, of course. Coach Perotta was placed on probation for failing to look into the hazing the first time it was reported, although a further investigation revealed that he truly seemed to have no knowledge of the hazing scheme—he just didn’t want to believe something like that could happen on his team.
In the end, roughly half the varsity team was suspended for participating in the hazing. Steve, Gabe, Jayden, Pete, and Ty were all found to have no involvement. More surprisingly, it turned out that Jason Bound himself was totally unaware of his father’s crazy plans. Since he was close to Dorian, Dorian would sometimes learn that Jason had invited a teammate to meet up after practice, and use that as an opportunity to grab the kid for hazing.
But David was right. Jason was too sportsmanlike to actually be involved
in such nonsense.
He came up to apologize to Frank and me at lunch about a week after the helicopter incident.
All eyes turned to the tall, popular senior as he weaved in between the tables of less popular kids in the back of the lunchroom, looking for us.
“Listen,” he said as he approached us, “Joe and Frank, I don’t even know what to say. How can I apologize for my dad’s crazy actions? Or Kelly’s, for that matter? We broke up, but clearly not soon enough.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Jason,” I said honestly. “Your dad did crazy things—not you.”
“I just wish I had known any of this was going on,” he said, shaking his head. “I could have stopped it. So many guys got hurt ’cause of me!”
“But you didn’t know that,” said Frank kindly. “Listen, you can’t control what other people do on your behalf. But I heard you get to keep the scholarship to Duke.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, even though we lost the championship.”
Having half the team suspended, and one coach fired, isn’t good for a team’s performance, it seems.
“You played really well,” I said. “Just . . . kill ’em in college.”
Jason smiled. “You bet I will.”
And then we were interrupted by the smooth strains of the band Chicago—sung a cappella.
Hold me now.
It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry . . .
Frank’s eyes lit up as suddenly, the a cappella group, the B-Sharps, began filing over to our table, surrounding it with glorious a cappella sound.
“Uh, gotta go,” muttered Jason, and he was gone in a flash.
All eyes in the cafeteria were on our table as the B-Sharps serenaded Frank, really putting their all into the lyrics.
Personally? I just can’t get that into a cappella.
But Frank looked like he’d died and gone to heaven.
When they finished, the cafeteria erupted in applause. But Max Crandal, the team captain, held up his hand for silence.
“Frank Hardy,” he said, “the B-Sharps humbly ask for your forgiveness. We’ve heard all about how you helped shut down the hazing that was taking place on the basketball team. We now realize that when you bailed on our practices, it wasn’t your choice. You were called to duty elsewhere.”
“I was,” agreed Frank.
Max nodded. “Frank, I accused you of not being right for the B-Sharps, but I realize now how lucky the B-Sharps were that you wanted to be one of us. Will you come back and join your brothers in a cappella harmony?”
Frank’s eyes lit up. “Will I?” he asked, jumping up. “When do we perform again? And do I get the ‘Lion Sleeps Tonight’ solo back?”
“No,” said Max, shaking his head. “Kyle is killing that solo, honestly. But we’ll find something else for you.”
Frank looked around at his a cappella brothers. He began singing, in a crazy-high falsetto . . .
And I’ll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rai-ai-ain . . .
They all joined in. I didn’t know what song they were singing, but they all sure did. In one big clump, they began walking out of the cafeteria, my brother among them, singing his heart out. I dug into my daily special. I’d lost him.
But I wasn’t too worried. After all, how often does a man get to live out his dream?
Besides, I was pretty sure another case would come along soon. Nothing brings the Hardy boys together like a good mystery.
FRANKLIN W. DIXON is the ever-popular author of the Hardy Boys series of books.
ALADDIN
SIMON & SCHUSTER, NEW YORK
Visit us at
simonandschuster.com/kids
authors.simonandschuster.com/Franklin-W-Dixon
READ ALL THE MYSTERIES IN THE
HARDY BOYS ADVENTURES:
#1 Secret of the Red Arrow
#2 Mystery of the Phantom Heist
#3 The Vanishing Game
#4 Into Thin Air
#5 Peril at Granite Peak
#6 The Battle of Bayport
#7 Shadows at Predator Reef
#8 Deception on the Set
#9 The Curse of the Ancient Emerald
#10 Tunnel of Secrets
#11 Showdown at Widow Creek
#12 The Madman of Black Bear Mountain
COMING SOON:
#14 Attack of the Bayport Beast
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This Aladdin hardcover edition October 2016
Text copyright © 2016 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Jacket illustration copyright © 2016 by Kevin Keele
Also available in an Aladdin paperback edition.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES, HARDY BOYS ADVENTURES, and related logo are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Jacket designed by Karin Paprocki
Interior designed by Mike Rosamilia
The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.
Library of Congress Control Number 2015958999
ISBN 978-1-4814-6832-9 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-6831-2 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4814-6833-6 (eBook)
Bound for Danger Page 10