Final Cut (9 page)

But he didn't get all the way around. Something hard and heavy came down on the back of his head with crushing force. Joe felt a flash of pain. Then the ground rose up to meet him, and everything went black.

"Joe! Hey, Joe!" Can you hear me, man?"

The voice was familiar, but so far away.

Joe slowly opened his eyes, and was aware of a nasty pain in the back of his head and a blurry face staring down at him. Gradually it came into focus. Headcase was kneeling over him with his customary headphones in place and a worried look behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Joe wondered what was going on. He couldn't quite remember.

Then Joe noticed that he was lying on his back in the street. He raised himself on one elbow and winced as his head started to throb. Things began to come back to him. He looked around at the dark street and tried to focus his thoughts.

There was nobody else in sight. There was no sign of Trish. Trish! He had been with Trish, and then someone had bashed him.

"What - " Joe started to say, then stopped. "Headcase, have you seen Trish? How long have I been out like this?"

With enormous effort Joe tried to get up. Headcase gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't move yet," warned Headcase. "You could have, you know, a concussion or something. Someone really gave you a shot, huh? I haven't seen Trish. You both walked over to the office maybe ten minutes ago. When you didn't come back, I went to look for you, and found you out cold. She wasn't around."

Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me up?" he asked Headcase. When the soundman still hesitated, he added, "It's all right, really. Whoever knocked me out just wanted me to go to sleep for a few minutes, not do permanent damage."

With Headcase's help, Joe stood and held on to his arm a minute until the dizziness passed.

"Listen," he said, "we have to check to see if anyone saw Trish leave and if she was with anyone."

As they started back around the corner, Joe stopped and gave the soundman a serious look.

"Be careful not to give the impression that there's anything seriously wrong. We're just curious, okay?"

Only a few technicians still remained on location, and they hadn't seen her. Joe spotted Alvin, still in his chair.

"Alvin!" He approached the big driver. "Listen, did you see Trish around in the last few minutes?"

Alvin looked up from his chair. "Trish? Yeah, I saw her drive off in someone's pickup just a little bit ago. Don't know whose truck."

A pickup truck! Joe suddenly was hit by a terrible thought. Could it be the same pickup truck? Could Trish have set him up? Could she be a part of the murder?

Joe leaned closer to Alvin. "Did you happen to see who was with her?"

Alvin scratched his head and thought. "Nope, sorry. I figured it must have been a couple of guys from the crew, you know, giving her a ride back to the hotel." He looked at Joe more intently. "Something wrong?"

"No, it's no big deal," Joe said quickly. "I was just looking for her, that's all." Alvin looked up at Headcase, but the soundman simply returned the look without giving anything away. But as they walked away from Alvin, Joe sensed the driver staring after them.

Headcase took off his headset. Joe had never seen him without it. He looked very different.

"Listen," said Headcase quietly. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I figure you and your brother are into something pretty heavy."

Joe shot him a suspicious frown. "You haven't been - you know, listening in when Frank and I... "

Headcase shook his head and assured Joe. "No, no, I haven't been listening in on you or anything like that. But it doesn't take a genius to figure that something screwy is going on around here, all this bad action between you and Sam Freed, and now you get knocked out cold, and Trish disappears. All I want to say is, if I can do anything, just let me know."

Joe smiled gratefully and said, "Thanks, Headcase. I appreciate it. We might just take you up on it." He went back to the office and used the phone to call home. His father answered almost at once, almost before the phone had had a chance to ring.

"Hi, Dad, I - "

"Joe," his father cut in, sounding worried, "where are you?"

"At the location. I've been - "

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, but - "

"You better hurry home. I have something to show you," Fenton said urgently.

At Joe's request, Headcase dropped him off at the Hardy house, and he walked in to find not only Fenton, but Frank and Callie, too, waiting for him with grim faces.

"Where's Trish?" asked Frank.

Joe filled them in on the attack he had suffered, and on Trish's disappearance.

"I asked everyone who was still around, but nobody had seen where she went, or who took her."

Fenton pointed to a piece of paper lying on a table. "Read that, but be careful not to touch it. There probably aren't any fingerprints, but you never know."

Joe bent over the piece of paper, on which a message had been pasted in cut-out newspaper letters: "We have Trish. Wait for our call. Tell no one or she's history."

Joe banged a fist on the desk. "When did you get this?" he asked his father.

"Fifteen minutes ago. We got a phone call, and an obviously disguised voice told us to look in our mailbox. There it was."

Callie spoke up. "What do they want with Trish?"

Frank put an arm around her shoulders. "Probably, they don't want her specifically, except as a way of putting pressure on us. But there's no point in guessing. We just have to wait for their call - whoever 'they' are."

"Do you figure that anybody on the crew knows what's wrong?" Frank asked Joe.

"Well, they know that Sam Freed is a goon of some kind," replied Joe, "but I haven't heard anybody putting things together yet. Except for Headcase. He knows that something's up, but he doesn't know what, exactly. He also said that if there was anything he could do to help to call him."

The next half hour dragged by slowly. They all sat, staring at the phones in Fenton's office as if that would make the call come sooner.

When it did ring, Callie jumped a little. Fenton picked it up instantly and switched on the speakerphone so that everyone could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Is this Mr. Hardy?" The voice sounded high, squeaky, and metallic. Someone was making sure that he or she wouldn't be recognized.

"Yes, this is Fenton Hardy."

"The girl is fine. Play ball with us, and she stays that way. We don't want anyone hurt."

"What do you want?" Fenton asked.

"Get Jim Addison over to your place, now. Tell him to come alone. You have one hour. When we call again, he better be there. And there better be no cops."

There was a click and then dead silence.

"Addison!" Joe exclaimed. "What's going on here?"

Fenton punched out the number of the hotel where the actor was staying. "For the moment they have the upper hand, so let's just do what they say."

The detective got the actor on the line.

"Jim? Fenton Hardy here."

"Yes, Fenton, what's up?"

"Something important has come up. I can't talk about it on the phone. We need you over here right away, and alone."

Jim Addison didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way."

When the doorbell rang a short time later, Frank answered it to find Jim Addison - and Andrea Stuart.

"What's she doing here?" Joe was furious. "Hasn't she caused enough trouble?"

Ms. Stuart held up a hand. "Wait, please. I've learned my lesson, Joe," she said. "I won't make any more waves from here on in, I promise. But Jim is not only my client, he's a dear friend. I want to stand by him."

Fenton said, "Andrea, wait in the living room for a few minutes."

Andrea started to protest but remained behind when the others went back to Fenton's office. After she was gone, Addison said, "What's going on here? Don't tell me you suspect Andrea? That's ridiculous!"

"She's caused a lot of trouble for us with her mouth," said Joe, "and she sounded willing to bend the law. We can't be sure of her."

"I can't believe - " Jim started to say.

Fenton cut him off. "Jim, you have to let us do our job. Joe's right. She's still under suspicion." He quickly outlined the situation to Addison.

"How long till they call back?" the actor asked.

"About half an hour," Joe said.

While they waited for the phone call, the Hardys ran over their list of possible suspects for Jim's benefit. The people who could have wanted Fairburn dead included Mel Clifford and Jerry Morrall. Andrea was also on the list because of her attitude. "And that's just what we know now," Fenton said. "Fairburn made a lot of enemies. There may be - "

The phone rang and Fenton grabbed it.

"Yes?"

"Hardy? Is Addison there?"

Addison spoke up. "I'm here, whoever you are. What do you want?"

The voice chuckled. "You'll know soon enough. Now, listen real close because I'm not going to stay on this line long enough to be traced, you understand."

"Go ahead," said Fenton.

"We want to make a trade. Addison for Trish. We figure that the TV company needs Addison to get this show finished, and they'll pay plenty to get him back in one piece, and you want to get the girl. Now here's what - "

"Forget it," cut in Fenton sharply. "We can't be a party to - "

"Then say goodbye to that cutie you're so worried about," the voice said roughly.

"I'll do it, Fenton. I owe it to all of you," Jim said quickly so the voice wouldn't cut off.

"Now, that's real smart. Like I said, if everyone plays it straight, no one gets hurt. We just want to make a little money, is all. Put Joe on the phone." Fenton handed the receiver to his son.

"Here's the deal," the caller continued. "Addison and you will drive out to Black Creek Road - you know it?"

"I know it," said Joe, his emotions on a tight rein.

"Smart kid. You leave the highway and go two miles up Black Creek Road. There you'll find a dirt turnoff that goes up into the hills. Take it exactly half a mile, park in the clearing there, and just wait. You got that?"

"Got it," Joe answered. "What then?"

"Just wait. And nobody else shows up, especially no cops. Or you won't see the girl again. We'll be watching when you arrive. If you're not alone, you won't see us, or her. Ever. You have forty-five minutes."

The line went dead with a click.

Joe relayed the plan to the group. Fenton Hardy shook his head. "It's too dangerous, Jim. You're going in blind."

Addison smiled. "It's funny. All these years of playing villains, I've been wanting to play a hero, without getting my shot. Now I have a chance to do it in real life, and I'm going to do it. Get Andrea in here."

When the manager came into the office, Addison told her what was happening and why.

Stuart laid a hand on his arm. "Jim, that's crazy. You'll be - "

The actor stopped her. "One reason I'm doing this is that I feel a responsibility for what's happened. I want you to stay with Fenton until I get back, is that clear?"

Andrea nodded and sank unhappily into a chair.

Addison looked squarely at Fenton. "I want to go. That is, if you're willing to let Joe come with me."

Joe spoke up. "I don't see what choice we have. Like you said, Dad, they have the upper hand; they're calling the shots for now. And if what they want is money, then they probably won't let anyone get hurt."

Fenton frowned. Then he nodded reluctantly. "All right, Joe, we'll wait to hear that Trish is safe. But if we don't hear anything in an hour and a half, we'll notify the police."

Jim Addison jumped up, eager to be on the way. He grinned at his manager.

"Cheer up, Andrea, I'll be fine. Look, it's just like TV. The good guys always win in the end."

Frank spoke quietly to Callie, "Yeah, except that on TV everyone follows a script. This script is being written as we go along, and I wish I could be sure that we're going to have a happy ending."

They borrowed Andrea Stuart's sporty little car. Joe drove, and Jim Addison sat in the other bucket seat. They headed out to the hills behind Bayport.

Addison was stiff and tense. Joe told the actor, "Look, I've been through this kind of thing. These guys don't play by rules. Stay loose and be ready for anything, but no heroics. They don't shoot blanks."

By the time they reached Black Creek Road, there was no traffic. It was a two-lane strip of asphalt winding through scrubby woodland.

As instructed, they drove two miles along the dark, silent street until they got to the turnoff. This took them onto a narrow lane of graded earth, just wide enough for the car to avoid the trees that hemmed them in on either side. The lane climbed steeply.

Joe watched the numbers click off on the mileage indicator as he drove slowly and carefully over the rutted, bumpy surface.

"That's a half mile," he said. There the lane widened into a clear space in the middle of the dense forest. There was no sign of another human being. They sat listening for any hint of movement. By the moonlight Joe could see Jim's face, pale and frightened.

A voice came from out of the trees right behind the car.

"Addison? That you?"

"I'm here, and so is Joe Hardy," the actor replied steadily. "Now what?"

"Get out of the car slowly, both of you. Turn around and put your hands up on the roof."

They obeyed the orders.

A pair of hands frisked Addison and tied his arms roughly behind him. He was blindfolded. Joe tried looking around, but the voice said, "Look straight ahead of you, kid. No peeking, now."

Then Joe was searched and tied. As the ropes were being tightly knotted he asked, "Where's Trish? You said - "

He was grabbed by the shoulder and turned around. Sam Freed gave him a gloating smile and growled, "I guess we kind of told you a fib, kid. Sorry about that. But I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

A large fist drove into Joe's stomach. He sank to his knees, trying to get his wind back.