The Lazarus Plot (8 page)

"I'll show you." Frank picked up an empty bottle that was lying in the litter-filled gutter. Then he walked over to a boy who was standing nearby, looking at the Hardy boys curiously. The boy was about ten years old, wearing worn-out at-the-knees jeans and a ripped T-shirt. His eyes lit up when Frank waved a ten-dollar bill in front of his face.

"Like to earn some easy money?" Frank asked him.

The boy looked hard at the money, then shook his head. "I ain't getting into anything illegal, mister. No way."

"Nothing illegal," said Frank. "And no danger, not if you can run fast."

"Fastest kid in my class," said the boy with pride. "What do you want to do? Put me in some kind of race?"

"That's right," said Frank. "A kind of race. See, the super in that building has been boasting to me how quick he is for his size, and how he doesn't have to lose weight. I want to show him he's wrong. So I'm setting up a test for him. You stand right here, and when he opens the door, make sure he sees you, and then you start running. "

"He won't catch me, not in a million years," said the boy, pocketing the bill.

By now Joe had gotten the idea. "Let me have that bottle," he said to Frank. "I've got a stronger pitching arm than you."

"Just remember to duck out of sight fast," Frank said as Joe started his wind-up.

Joe's throw was perfect. The bottle smashed through a front window, and the Hardy boys were crouched behind a next-door stoop by the time the super appeared.

The boy was honest - he earned his pay. He waited for the super to spot him, then tore down the street.

The super went after him.

"That white hair has got to be fake." said Joe, watching him. "That guy moves like a pro halfback."

"We'd better move fast, too," said Frank, leading the way through the front door that the enraged guard had neglected to close.

"Wow," said Joe as he looked around him. "Who would have thought it?"

They weren't in a decaying tenement. They were in a modern office complex, with brightly lit corridors leading past rows of gleaming doors. In front of them on the wall was an office directory.

"Could this be it?" said Frank, his eyes scanning the list of names. "Edward Gray, Operations chief. Four twenty-two."

"Sounds worth checking out," Joe replied.

"Let's get in that elevator before somebody comes along and spots us," said Frank.

They entered the small elevator near them and rode to the fourth floor. There they followed the numbers on the doors until they reached422.

"We won't bother to knock," said Frank. "It's a little late in the day to worry about being polite.”

He swung open the door and entered, with Joe right behind him. Joe breathed a sigh of relief. Their gamble had paid off. The Gray Man was sitting there, behind the desk.

Even better, the Gray Man's eyes lit up when he saw them.

"Frank and Joe Hardy," he' said. "What a surprise. Good to see you. What can I do for you?" Joe grinned. Their troubles were over.

Except that Frank didn't seem to see it that way.

Joe's mouth dropped open as he saw Frank dash toward the Gray Man. Frank hurtled himself over the desk. He smashed into the Gray Man, toppling him out of his swivel chair. Then he sat on the Gray Man's chest and raised his fist menacingly over his deathly gray face. Frank had gone crazy-or had he?

Suddenly Joe had a horrifying thought, and his blood turned to ice. Was this really Frank, or was this-?

He didn't bother finishing his thought. Instead he moved forward, his fists clenched, as he asked harshly, "Who are you anyway?"

FRANK, STILL SITTING on the Gray Man's chest, looked up at Joe and grinned. "Relax. I'm still me," he said. "And I haven't gone nuts."

"But-" Joe looked quizzically at the Gray Man, who was unsuccessfully struggling to get out from under Frank.

"I saw him reaching for his desk buzzer," said Frank. "He was going to sound the alarm and bring in guards to haul us away." He looked at the Gray Man, who had given up struggling. "Am I right?"

"You'll never get away with this," the Gray Man said, glaring defiantly at Frank.

"What's gotten into him?" Joe asked his brother. "It's not what's gotten into him. It's who's gotten to him," said Frank. "Our doubles must have arrived here already and convinced him they were us. So when we arrived, he thought we were imposters. Right, Mr. Gray?" "Very clever," said the Gray Man. "But not clever enough to fool me." "See what I mean, Joe?" said Frank. "That's why I didn't want him to call the guards. It would have taken too long to convince everybody that we're really us, especially if they tossed us in jail instead of hearing us out. I couldn't risk that. We have to stop our doubles before they do whatever they're out to do. What are they out to do, Mr. Gray? You must know. What did they come to see you for? We have to know their next move so we can stop it."

"I'm not talking," the Gray Man said, his jaw clenched with determination. "Look, we're us," said Joe. "Can't you tell?"

"I can tell that those are convenient bandages-now we can't check the thumbprints in your files," said the Gray Man. "And I can tell that you're trying to bluff your way through this masquerade even though you've found out I'm on to your game." Joe looked helplessly at Frank. "What can we do? The guy won't listen." " Frank's brows furrowed. Then they relaxed as he made his decision. But the grim look on his face made it clear that he wasn't happy with what he had decided to do.

"We can't waste time talking, Mr. Gray," he said. "We have to take more direct action."

Joe stared with shock as Frank stood up and hauled the Gray Man to his feet. In the same motion, he grabbed the Gray Man's arm and bent it behind him.

The Gray Man couldn't hide a grimace of pain as Frank gave his arm a slight twist.

"Frank!" Joe protested. He didn't mind doing what he had to do in a fight, but this was different. Torture wasn't his thing. He could take it and he had. Handing it out, though, was something else.

Frank ignored him. "Make up your mind fast," Frank said to the Gray Man. His voice was rock hard.

"Look, Frank, we can't - " Joe began.

Frank cut him off sharply. "We do it this way. We don't have a choice." "I don't see why," said Joe, giving his brother a searching look. Maybe he had been right the first time. This couldn't be Frank, who hated to see anyone or anything suffer. "I've got a hunch that what our doubles are planning has to be stopped fast," Frank said impatiently. "If it means playing as rough as they do, that's the price we have to pay. We can't afford to lose time. It's a rotten trade-off, but it's the only option we have."

Frank's words didn't make Joe feel any less queasy, but they did tell Joe that this was his brother. He recognized their logic, the kind of logic that made Frank so different from him. Joe went by his feelings, and told him that torturing a man for any reason was dead wrong. But Frank believed in using his head, and arguing with the way Frank summed up a situation was as hard as arguing that two plus two made five.

All Joe could say was, "Maybe you're right, but I can't watch this." And he turned his face away.

"Okay, Mr. Gray," Joe heard Frank say. "Tell us what those guys wanted, and spare yourself a lot of pain."

"Not on your life," the Gray Man shot back.

"Then don't say I didn't warn you," replied Frank.

His eyes still averted, Joe winced in anticipation of what he would hear next.

But what he heard was his brother's defeated voice, "Okay, Mr. Gray, you win. I can't do it. I thought I was tough enough, but I guess I'm not tough that way."

Letting out a deep breath of relief, Joe turned to see that Frank had let the Gray Man go and was standing with his shoulders slumped and a defeated look on his face.

Then Frank's face brightened as the Gray Man put his hand on Frank's shoulder and said, "You win, too, Frank. You've convinced me."

"We have?" said Frank, totally puzzled.

For once Joe could see something that his brother couldn't. "I get it, Mr. Gray. You figured that real imposters wouldn't mind torturing you to get the information they wanted. But we wouldn't. And you were right."

"I know I'm right," said the Gray Man, his usual decisive authority returning to his voice. "You boys have a lot of courage, but there are some things you can't bring yourselves to do which is one of the reasons the Network can never completely rely on you. We, like our enemies, sometimes have to play dirty to win."

"And that's one of the reasons we'd just as soon not get hooked up too tightly with you," said Joe. "We'd rather fight crime our own way, with our own rules." "But right now we're in this fight together," said Frank. "And we have to stop our doubles." "First of all, tell me about those doubles," said Mr. Gray.

"It's a long story," replied Frank. "But to make it short, there's an organization that makes doubles for clients who need them for crime. They made doubles of us, even down to our fingertips, and they forced us to tell them how to contact you."

"But I made you swear never to - " the Gray Man began, and then paused. "I suppose they used torture.” Frank shot Joe a quick glance, then said, "Right, torture. I'd rather not go into the details."

"Don't feel bad," said the Gray Man. "Everybody has his breaking point. Now tell me more about this organization. What is it called? Where's it located?"

Frank was about to answer when Joe cut in quickly, "There's time for that later. Right now, we have to stop our doubles."

Frank nodded. "Joe's right. What are they up to? Why did they contact you?"

The Gray Man nodded, too. "We do have to stop them fast, and that'll be hard. They're clever, I have to hand it to them. They contacted me through the computer hook-up and told me they had to see me personally with information they couldn't risk anybody finding out about through electronic eavesdropping.”

"After they got here and after they passed through all the security check to be able to see me alone, they told me they'd gotten wind of a plot that concerned the life of the President him self. But when I asked them what it was, they said they couldn't tell me. And can you guess why?" "I'll take a wild guess," replied Frank.

"Go ahead, Sherlock," said the Gray Man with a smile. "That's what your brother calls you, if I remember correctly." "Our doubles told you that they couldn't trust you because there was an organization that made doubles of key figures and you might be one of them."

The Gray Man tried not to look surprised. "And how did you figure that out?"

"You didn't seem as surprised as you should have when we told you about the Lazarus Group like you'd heard it all before," answered Frank.

"So they're called Lazarus," said the Gray Man, thoughtfully.

"But what did they want with you?" Joe interrupted impatiently.

"Oh, right. Back to the subject at hand," said the Gray Man. "They said they could only speak to the head of the Network because they could be sure that this as one person whose identity this Lazarus group Could not know: You see, I am the only one in the network - and one of only a very few people in the highest level of government who knows who the head is." "And you revealed it to them?" said Frank.

For a second the Gray Man's air of assurance faded. He looked ashamed, apologetic. Then he pulled himself together. "I did. It was a snap decision and I made it. They claimed the President's life hung by a thread, and only the Network head could stop that thread from being snapped very, very soon. So I told them. Or rather, I told you. You see, though I have a lot of doubts about your maturity and efficiency, I have no doubts at all about your honesty." "Thanks," said Joe. "Anyway, there's a good chance we can stop them before they do any damage," said Frank. "You can contact your boss immediately."

"If only it were that simple," said the Gray Man. "But you see, one of the methods we've employed to keep our head's identity a total secret is not to have any mechanical lines of communication with the boss.

"I think, especially after seeing how hostile forces succeeded in finding out the link between you and me, that you can see our wisdom in doing that. Only I have contact with our head, in ways that no one shadowing me can suspect. That's just part of the security system that our head has personally devised, and it's proved to be the most effective cover a secret official has ever had until now, anyway."

"Then you'll have to rush some of your men to cut off the doubles," said Frank.

"Letting our own agents in on the secret would break the system wide open," said the Gray Man.

He went to his desk and pulled out a Browning automatic pistol and put it in a shoulder holster that he also took from the desk. He removed his jacket, fastened the holster, and put his jacket on again. "There's only one way to do it. We have to go ourselves."

"What a good idea. Let's all go together." It was Frank's voice, but it came from the doorway.

Silently the door had been swung open, and Frank II stood there, with a Beretta pistol leveled. As he stepped into the room, Joe II followed an identical pistol in his hand.

"Brother Frank is right," said Joe II. "'I'm sure our twins here are simply dying to meet the Network head."

"Well, maybe we can arrange that," said Frank II, with the kind of shark like grin that had never appeared on Frank Hardy's face. "First, they'll see the head. And then they'll die."

"GOOD THING WE checked with home base before we proceeded with the plan," said Frank II as Joe II relieved the Gray Man of his pistol and pocketed it, then frisked the Hardys for weapons.

"Yeah," replied Joe II. "They told us that you two bright boys had escaped and might be coming after us. We were ordered to double back, wait outside this place in case you arrived, and then put you and Mr. Gray out of action."

"Contingency Plan A," added Frank II. "The boss covers all bases when he sets up a job."

"Thanks to you boys, we had to junk our original mission," said Joe II.

"A real shame." Frank II shook his head. "It was a doozy of a scheme. The boss's best ever."