Edge of Destruction (12 page)

"Why so surprised?" asked Frank. “Ever since we went underground, nothing's been quite what it seemed. I've been feeling like I wandered into Alice's Wonderland." "Yeah," said Joe. "This whole case was a great big web of lies, which reminds me," he added, "what did happen to Ian? How did he die?"

Jones's face went slack. "Heart attack," he said sadly. "The doctor's drug was too much for him. If he'd been stronger, Ian would be with us now, celebrating." "Which we can do now, thank goodness," said Mr. Hardy. He picked up the phone again. "I can hardly wait to tell Sam Peterson the good news. This whole thing must have been like a nightmare for him."

But Peterson still had one last concern.

He explained it two hours later in a very private meeting in his office. He’d asked Fenton Hardy, Joe and Frank, and Peter Jones to stop by.

"When the media start asking questions,” Peterson said after his secretary had, left the room, "it’s going to be hard to explain what happened. I mean, I appreciate the help that the underground people provided, but officially they’re not even supposed to be living down there much less doing the job of the police."

"Which wouldn't exactly help your image when you run for mayor, right, Chief?" said Peter Jones with a smile.

"That, too, of course,” Peterson acknowledged.

"I think I have away out of your dilemma," Jones said, his smile warm. “And out of a lot of other people's dilemmas as well."

"Oh? What's that?" asked Peterson with keen interest "I'd be glad to have my people provide eyewitness testimony to how the police made an underground raid at Grand Central and Caught the Trask gang. The raid was astounding, they'll testify, its success hinging on the help of undercover Cops disguised as underground people. That should go a long way in making you a hero. It might also make you a mayor."

"And why would you do all that for me?" Peterson asked. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"I can see you've started thinking like a politician already," said Jones with a grin. "You're right. I do want something. I want a strong commitment from you. If you're elected mayor, I'd like you to be sympathetic to the city's homeless population. Some people prefer to live underground, but most of them are forced to. And I think it's the city's job to help bring these people into the light again. Do you agree to help us?" "I agree," said Peterson. "And I also agree with what you said and want to help." "Will you put it in writing?" asked Jones.

"I may sound like a politician, but you sound even more like a lawyer," the chief said, chuckling. "Sure, I'll put it in writing. In fact, I'll do even more than that to assure you I'll keep my word. How would you like a job in my administration if I'm elected? I'll need people like you around me. People who can keep me in touch with everyone in the city I'm supposed to serve."

"Chief," Jones promised, "you have yourself a new aide, and I think you're going to have a whole bunch of very effective new campaign workers." Jones and Peterson shook hands firmly. The Hardy’s looked on.

"I guess we can be getting back to Bayport," Fenton Hardy said then. "We're leaving New York in pretty good hands."

"Before you go, you have to promise me something," Peterson said. “At least your kids have to."

"What's that?" asked Frank.

"In a few years, when you're considering jobs, think about joining the New York City Police Department," said Peterson. "You're the best prospects I've seen since the old days when your dad and I put on uniforms."

"Chips off the old block, Sam," Fenton Hardy agreed, placing a hand on each of his sons' shoulders. "Chips off the old block."

"Come on, we're a couple of high school kids," said Joe. "We just want to have fun. No more crime fighting for us."

And now it was the Hardy boys' turn to exchange great big grins.

The End.