Deathgame (8 page)

Hammerlock cut Frank off. "I will not allow you to sully what I have worked so hard to achieve. The time of my private army has come. My troops do not exist for personal gain. If I discover the location of missing POWs in Vietnam, I will go in with a crack unit at a moment's notice. My men will never negotiate with terrorists. We will deal with a ruthless enemy in a ruthless fashion."

Frank did not back down. "You could end up endangering the lives of hostages, you could end up killing innocent people — have you considered those factors?"

Hammerlock gestured abruptly, stabbing his plastic fork in Frank's direction. "A soldier takes risks with his life. And we are all at war. It won't be long before the public understands this and comes to adore us!"

Joe shook his head in apparent admiration. "Colonel, you are no ordinary man." He paused for a second. "You're a real loony tune!" He pushed his canned peaches away. "Think I'll skip the peaches a la lead poisoning."

Hammerlock looked at Joe as if he were a mutant from outer space. Then he barked out an order to have the table cleared. Orderlies picked up the cans.

Lauren snatched a small package of gum from one of the orderlies. "Just a second, I wasn't finished."

Once the table was cleared, the orderlies returned to deposit a collection of knives in the center of the table. The blades were all sheathed.

Hammerlock picked one up and drew the wicked-looking blade out halfway. "These are Malin M-Fifteen survival knives. Each one contains a precision ZF-Three-sixty Liquid Damped Compass, plus a small survival kit within the handle, including an eighteen-inch cable saw and waterproof matches, among other items."

He shoved the sharp, silvered blade back into the sheath. Metal scraped metal.

"Get up!" Hammerlock ordered.

Joe and Frank supported Biff between them. Biff gamely tried to stand. "I'll be all right," he muttered.

"Just hold on to us for a while, tough guy," Frank murmured.

Hammerlock let the lethal, heavy knife drop to the table. He spoke slowly as if to let every word sink in.

"Recruits, grunts who don't live up to our expectations or who become a threat, get to play our survival game." Hammerlock paused, raising his head from the knives to pierce Terry with his gaze. Terry's eyes did not blink, nor did he look away. "For real!"

Hammerlock picked up the knives and walked around the table, dropping a knife before each of them. "Hunting you down—gives me the chance for a little rest and relaxation."

Terry picked up not only the knife that had been provided for him but Biff's as well. "We'll set you up with this later, Biff."

"You want to get on with it?" Lauren asked coldly.

"The five of you will be set loose in the jungle terrain beyond our fortress." Hammerlock thought for a moment, his expression grave, then nodded, as if in agreement with himself. "I'll give you until dawn and then start after you. I think that's a sporting chance.

"I'll probably be back in time for breakfast, but it will be a pleasant surprise if the five of you are tough enough to make the hunt last until lunch."

Hammerlock drew his Super Blackhawk pistol. He twirled the gun around his forefinger.

"Just consider this the final exam."

Hammerlock suddenly stopped the spinning gun. It was pointed right at Joe's head.

"And I mean just that. You flunk this course— and you die!"

"THIS IS THE place," Frank Hardy agreed, looking back along the trail. The dawn light rose in a milky haze over the palmetto trees. "If we're going to ambush Hammerlock, we should do it here."

The Hardys, Terry, and Lauren had made their way as quickly as possible along a sandy trail that cut through the scrub and palmetto. They took turns carrying Biff.

Lauren had suggested they use the fireman's carry, straddling Biff over both shoulders. "But how could you — " Joe began.

Lauren answered by slinging Biff over her shoulders and stalking into the woods. They'd had no choice but to follow her.

There was little light among the trees and they had to watch out for tangled roots twisting up in the sandy path.

Joe followed closely behind Lauren. Hanging over her shoulder, Biff looked back at Joe in desperation.

"You won't tell anyone back home about this, will you?" he pleaded. "Me, saved from death by a girl barely five feet tall."

"They'd have to tear my fingernails out first," Joe assured him. "They'd have to boil me in oil, pluck my eyebrows. And I still wouldn't give them word one."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," Biff said.

Frank nudged Joe, who was staring at Biff, bobbing slightly as Lauren made her way along the path.

"I'll bet Lauren could get it out of you in three seconds flat," Frank said with a grin.

Joe looked sharply at his brother. He hoped Lauren hadn't heard Frank's comment. She kept walking.

"I saw the way you were looking at her," Frank went on. "Definite interest — maybe even admiration?"

Joe stared at him, exasperated. "Will you shut up? She'll hear you."

Frank shook his head in mild amusement. "In about an hour we're going to have a certifiable homicidal psychopath using us for target practice, and you're worried about what Lauren is going to think."

"Yeah, well, you're the one who brought her up. Are you just jealous because she likes me better than you?" Joe asked.

"Oh, right, can't you see my heart is breaking?" Frank replied. "Lauren," he called, putting an end to the conversation. "Why don't you let me take Biff for a while?"

With seemingly no effort Lauren transferred Biff to Frank's shoulders.

"You've go to stop eating all those burgers, Biff!" Frank grunted as they started off again.

They discussed possible scenarios against Hammerlock as the sky slowly brightened. Frank was the strategist.

"I think the major thing that we have to keep reminding ourselves is that we can't afford a physical confrontation with Hammerlock. He's skilled at this sort of hunting and far stronger."

"So, what you're saying," Joe said as he accepted Biff on his shoulders, "is that our only chance is to outwit him."

It was just before dawn. They knew they had fifteen minutes at most before Hammerlock would set out after them.

"Maybe we should set some sort of ambush for him. No one, outside the colonel and his elite squad, lives on this island," said Terry.

"We have no idea how far away the next Caribbean Island is," Frank continued with the planning, "so there's no reason to head for the beach, which is what I'm sure he'll expect us to try. We just can't chance swimming, without knowing how far and in what direction the closest inhabited island is."

Lauren picked the actual spot in the trail where they would stage their ambush. "You see how the trail zigzags here very sharply. So when Hammerlock approaches this point, he's blind to anyone stationed nearby."

Joe looked excitedly into her vivid blue eyes. Her pupils seemed to enlarge slightly.

"You've got a plan!" he said with a note of triumph. He turned to Frank. "I love it! She beat you to the punch!"

Frank rolled his eyes.

"You haven't heard my plan yet," Lauren reminded him coolly.

Joe nodded. "That's true. But when I do, I know I'm going to love it!"

Lauren tried not to smile and failed. Turning to Frank, she asked, "Is he always like this?"

"Only when his life is in danger," Frank replied.

Terry disappeared while they were working out the actual logistics of the trap.

"I'm not sure I like this," Frank said as the sky began to turn a light peach color.

"What's wrong, Frank?" Lauren asked as she inspected a tree near the edge of the path. She was going to climb up one trunk, and Terry another, in the hopes that they could drop down on the colonel when he passed below.

"I'll tell you," Joe said, picking a spot alongside the path where the scrub brush was densest and would make the best hiding place. "Frank doesn't like the idea of us taking direct physical action against Hammerlock."

"Let's say I have a few reservations," Frank said grimly.

"Look at it this way, Frank. What we've really done is combine our collective intelligence with force," Joe reasoned.

"It sounds good when you put it that way," Frank admitted grudgingly.

Lauren tested the lower branches of the tree. She nodded to herself. The branches would support her.

Then she turned to Frank. "I think our best bet at this point is to try to put Hammerlock on the defensive," she explained, her sapphire eyes thoughtful. "He's bound to think we'll be concentrating on finding a way off his human game preserve."

Biff was hidden deep in a thicket off to the side of the trail. He seemed stronger than when the boys had first found him, but he was still weak and bruised from the beatings.

"I'm reduced to being a mere 'spotter,' " he grumbled.

Frank studied the sky. "Sun's up. Hammerlock must be on his way by now. It won't be long."

Joe whirled about, looking left and right, obviously disturbed.

"What's wrong, Joe?" Lauren asked.

"Terry! Where's Terry? Anybody see him?" His voice rose in concern.

"Calm down, Joe." Terry's voice came from the trees. He appeared a moment later, carrying all their canteens.

"Where'd you go? What'd you take our canteens for?" Joe asked.

Terry handed Joe one of the canteens. "Try some of this."

As Terry pushed through the brush to hand a canteen to Biff, Joe unscrewed the cap. He took a sniff. "What is it?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It's a drink made from crushed cinnamon, ginger, and a special tree bark," Terry replied. "Drink up. It's actually good, and it'll give you strength." Terry caught Joe looking distrustfully at his canteen. "Stop making faces, Joe. Set a good example for Biff."

Terry silently worked his way through the thicket, back out onto the path. "Hammerlock won't expect any of us to know how to live off what's at hand on this island. This puts us one up on him already."

Joe took a cautious sip. "Hey, this isn't so bad, after all."

"How'd you learn to make this?" Frank asked. "I told you my dad was an agent. He was stationed in the Caribbean for a while when I was a kid, and he taught me how to make it. I guess he was doing some kind of counterinsurgency stuff. He never talked much about it," Terry answered as he studied the tree he was to climb.

"Time to get ready," Frank said when he had finished the exotic drink. "Take your places."

Lauren climbed nimbly up the tree she had chosen. She had her knife drawn, and for an instant sunlight glinted off the razor-sharp metal.

"Watch it!" Joe called up to her. "Hammerlock could spot that."

She realized what had happened and scraped the knife blade against the bark of the tree to dull the shine. "Sorry," she said in a whisper. "I didn't realize. And you'd better keep your voice down, or he'll hear us for sure."

Joe gave her a thumbs-up sign and whispered, "Now we're even."

As Joe settled himself in the brush, he had an odd sense of deja vu. Why? It came to him suddenly. Except for the fact that there were fronds and scrub and sand, the act of lying in wait reminded him of the night he and Frank and Biff and Tony Prito had played their survival game in Bayport.

It seemed a lifetime ago.

Biff had given the signal, a circular wave of his hand. The thickets were silent, the ambushers holding their collective breath as Hammerlock moved toward the bend in the trail. He came into sight, then stood motionless.

Listening.

Eyes searching.

Hammerlock wore a torn olive-drab safari shirt. His bulging arms were smeared with black and green camouflage paint. He pressed himself up against a tree trunk, almost willing himself to become a part of it.

Come on! Move! Joe thought, trying to will him to take three more steps. That would place him right between the two Hardys.

What's stopping him? Some sixth sense? Joe wondered.

Hammerlock sprang away from the tree, moving all in a rush. He was going to run right by them. It all happened so abruptly that Joe was afraid Hammerlock would be past and gone before they could spring the trap. He pushed himself outward, ready to wrap his arms around the colonel's strong midsection. His hands slid on greased flesh. He couldn't hold on!

Hammerlock had expected the attack. He was already whirling away from it, flinging Joe into the scrub. His pistol appeared in his hand, as if from nowhere, and the barrel erupted with flame. The gun sounded like a cannon.

He had aimed up at the tree where Terry was stationed. The .44-caliber bullet tore the limb from beneath Terry's feet!

Terry gasped, clawing at branches, anything to stop his fall. He plunged downward, hit a branch, and tumbled into the scrub near where Joe had hidden.

Hammerlock spun around, his attention back on Joe. His gun was lowered, ready to fire again.

Now the weapon that had pulverized the tree limb was aimed directly at the bridge of Joe's nose. He was as good as dead, no doubt about it! Hammerlock couldn't miss at this range.

Joe took a deep breath.

Lauren landed on Hammerlock's back, booted feet first. The blow would have knocked a normal man to the ground. But not Hammerlock. The shock just knocked his gun hand a few inches off. The gun exploded with flame and thunder and the bullet whizzed by just above Joe's head.

She saved my life! Joe thought, diving off the trail. How can I ever make it up to her?

Lauren hit the sandy path, rolling into the scrub. She came up fast and was running immediately. Joe found her right beside him as he hurtled through the jungle foliage.

"I thought I was dead!" he told her.

"I thought you were, too," she answered.

"How'd he know where we were?" Joe asked furiously. "It isn't fair! One moment, we had him dead. And then the next second, he's on to us!" Almost, he thought, as if someone had told him.

"I just hope Frank and Terry are all right," Lauren said as they reached Biff.

"It was a fiasco, huh?" he asked. "A complete fiasco," Joe admitted.