"What's the matter? Your mind go blank?" Frank said. "Take a couple of minutes. See if you can remember it without my helping you."
"It's not that. I can remember it perfectly," said Joe. "But there's a good chance this place is bugged. That drug must have messed up your head. You're usually the one who thinks of things like that."
"Of course I did. I checked the place out," said Frank impatiently. "What do you think I am? An idiot? Let's not waste any more time. They might be coming for us at any minute. Just tell me the procedure so I can feel secure."
Joe looked at his brother more closely. Frank actually looked angry. The drug must still have been affecting him, or else his nerves were shot Joe felt funny, being the cool, levelheaded one, instead of Frank. But if Frank wouldn't admit that there was no way to detect really sophisticated eavesdropping equipment, then Joe would have to be the one on guard.
"No dice," he said. "The Gray Man told us never to risk revealing the contact code. You know that as well as I do."
To Joe's amazement, Frank's eyes glowed with fury. Then he relaxed, and shrugged. "Okay, if that's the way you want it. Conversation over."
"Glad you've come to your - " Joe began. Suddenly the door swung open. Fritz and Hugo were there with their guns.
"Let's go," said Fritz.
Joe kept a sharp eye out for any chance to jump them, but they were too alert and professional. As they marched the Hardys down the corridor, they kept a perfect distance from Joe and Frank-too far away to be attacked, but not far enough away for the boys to escape.
"I wonder what's waiting for us" Joe said to Frank as they walked along.
"I have a strong hunch that they have a big surprise in store," replied Frank.
There was an odd mocking tone in Frank's voice, but Joe didn't have time to wonder about it.
"In there," said Hugo from behind them as they came to an empty door. As they entered, Frank said in the same strange tone, "Hi, Joe."
"Hi, Frank," answered the young man waiting inside.
Joe looked into the face of that young man and suddenly wondered if he had really come out of his drugged trance, or if maybe he was as crazy as the inmates at the Lazarus Clinic used to be. The young man he was staring at was himself!
Chapter 5
FOR A SECOND, all Joe could see was his own face staring into his, as if he were looking into some kind of crazy mirror. Then he saw more.
He saw that the double facing him was wearing Joe's own clothes-which must have been why Joe was wearing the gray sweatshirt and pants.
He saw that his brother Frank, the real Frank, was not standing beside him, but was strapped in a chair in the center of the room. Frank was wearing gray sweat clothes, too, while his own clothes were on whomever it was who was posing as Frank. Joe didn't try to figure out what it all meant. Instead he shot out a right cross aimed at the chin of the double facing him.
But the double reacted just as fast, blocking the punch with his left arm and lashing out with a right hook.
Joe knew it was coming. He slipped it by pulling his head back sharply and dived at his opponent. He missed and hit the floor with a jarring crash.
His double leapt on him but did not make contact. Joe rolled out of the way in the nick of time.
The two of them lay sprawled' side by side on the floor. Then, at the same time, they jumped to their feet and stood facing off, panting and looking futilely for an opening in each other's defenses.
"That's enough," said a voice over a hidden speaker system. It was the voice of the unseen man who had directed the Hardy boys' capture.
A voice without accent or inflection. A voice that could have been produced by a computer or by somebody who wanted to give no clue to his identity.
"The experiment is over," the voice continued. "You two could keep fighting for an hour without either of you gaining an advantage. Joe Hardy! Number two is a success, a perfect replica of Joe Hardy number one, right down to the last reflex. Okay, men, take care of Joe One, before he exhausts himself trying to knock himself out."
Fritz and Hugo, who had been watching the fight with big grins, stepped forward and grabbed Joe by both arms. They shoved him into a chair next to Frank I. Frank II, grinning as well, used the straps on the chair arms and legs to tie Joe in.
Careful not to let his movements show, Joe flexed his muscles to test the straps. They held tight-no chance of a breakout. At the same time, he glanced around the room, and caught sight of the lenses of TV cameras in openings in all four walls, near the ceiling. Doubtless the cameras showed everything that was happening in the room to whoever was in command.
The voice came over the speaker again. Frank and Joe, listening closely, could detect a note of very human triumph in the mechanical tone.
"Now that you are both comfortably settled in, allow me to introduce the team responsible for our successful effort. I'm sure that if your hands were free, you would want to applaud them. Gentlemen, you may come in;"
The men who entered were the four Joe had seen in the room with Iola.
The voice first introduced the distinguished looking elderly man with the crew cut.
"Meet Dr. Helmut von Heissen, one of the most brilliant plastic surgeons in the world. Unfortunately, the world does not know of the remarkable advances he has made in skin grafting techniques, since he was unable to publish the results of the splendid scientific experiments he performed while a young doctor at a Nazi camp.
"Our organization, however, fully appreciates his genius. We have given him a free hand and unlimited resources to pursue his efforts ever since we discovered him living in forced obscurity. His results you see before you Frank Hardy Two and Joe Hardy Two are your perfect doubles, all the way down to your thumbprints."
Involuntarily, Joe and Frank looked at their bandaged thumbs.
Seeing this, Dr. von Heissen smiled. "Do not worry, young men," he said, in English that was blurred only slightly by a German accent. "Your skin will grow back to normal in a couple of weeks, providing, of course, you live that long. On the other hand if I may use that phrase: your prints' will be fully operational on Joe Two and Frank Two in a day."
"You've got to be kidding," said Joe. "I've heard of mad scientists, but ... ” Joe shook his head.
The doctor's face hardened for a moment into a chillingly ruthless mask of hate. Then it relaxed into a superior smile again. "I assure you, my methods have been perfected. I only wish I could publish the results of my years of trial and error. But the world is not yet ready to accept the necessity of using human beings as guinea pigs to speed the pace of progress."
"You must be patient, Doctor," the voice on the speaker said soothingly. "The time will come when the Lazarus Clinic will be revered around the world as a shrine to your magnificent achievements.”
Then the voice went on with its introductions. "Of course, molding the body means nothing unless the mind is molded, and we have experts on that, as well," it said. "Meet our colleague, Colonel Chin Huan, formerly chief of the indoctrination section of the Red Army. It was he who engineered the remarkably successful brainwashing program used on American prisoners in the Korean War.
"If he had not chosen to side with the wrong political faction in the power struggle after the death of the Chinese leader Mao Zedong, he would doubtless still occupy a high position in his native land. But as it is, we have been able to let him utilize and further expand his expertise in controlling and programming the human mind. By this time, it may be safely said that a person's mind is putty in his skilled hands."
Chin bowed in the direction of the speaker. "Thank you for your praise, but it was impossible to achieve without the technical help of my comrade Peter Clark." He bowed again, in the direction of the tail, thin, freckle-faced young man with horn-rimmed glasses who stood behind him.
Peter Clark stepped forward to join Chin, and the speaker introduced him. "Mr. Clark was formerly employed by a pioneering electronics firm on the West Coast, until it w
as bought by a larger corporation and its pure research budget was slashed.” "They took away my laboratory, just when I was getting into some really interesting stuff ," Peter Clark complained in a high-pitched Whining voice. He sounded very much like a five-year-old tattling on somebody who had stolen his toys.
"Fortunately, we are able to supply Peter with all the equipment he wants. In return he has supplied us with the most advanced techniques for computerizing and electronically implanting information into the human brain," the voice said. "Really neat stuff," added Peter, with a pleased expression.
"Now you see what the staff of the Lazarus Clinic can do," said the voice.
"You mean you created two guys who look like us, and then programmed them to think like us?" asked Frank.
"Not created-recruited," replied the voice. "We found two young men with the right body types. Then, using our excellent file on your personal lives, we programmed that information into your doubles. We've also recorded your voices and videotaped your activities, and then programmed your speech patterns and motor abilities into Frank Two and Joe Two. But there is a difference between them and you. A big difference, they think what we want them to think. And do what we want them to do."
"You jokers have gone to a lot of trouble but why?" asked Joe.
"That is for us to know and for you not to live long enough to find out," answered the voice.
"But you must want us for something. Other wise you wouldn't have bothered to let us live this long," said Frank.
"You're right. But since you obliged us by walking right into our hands, we have decided to use your presence as an opportunity to pump every bit of information out of what is left of your lives. "
"Pump away-you're not getting a thing. Let Chin try his brainwashing stuff and see how far he gets," said Joe defiantly.
"Joe's right," Frank said, and added with calm logic, "You blew whatever chance you had of making use of us when you told us you're going to kill us anyway. Bad move."
The voice, however, did not sound disturbed by the Hardy boys' resistance.
In fact, it seemed to be enjoying its cat and mouse game.
"Let me assure you, Frank, there are far more painful things than death-things that can make death seem sweet. And let me inform you, Joe, that there are far swifter and more effective means than brainwashing to get what we want out of you."
The voice paused a moment to let its words sink in. Then it continued, "But I still haven't introduced the "fourth member of our team. How rude of me. Let me do it now. Gentlemen, meet Ivan Boshevsky."
With that, the big bear like man who had been standing behind the others stepped forward. His shaved skull gleamed in the light. His smile gleamed even brighter. His grinning lips parted to display a set of bizarre false teeth, a mingling of gold, silver, and stainless steel.
"Comrade Boshevsky was employed by the Soviet KGB during the regime of Joseph Stalin," the voice went on. "Unfortunately, after Stalin's death, certain of his methods of interrogating prisoners were called into question, and he was not only discharged, but forced to spend several years in the same labor camps where he used to send others.
"Needless to say, as soon as he was released, he sought other employment for his extraordinary skills, and we were only too happy to hire him. His work for us has more than justified our confidence. He has been invaluable in extracting the most jealously guarded bits of personal information from the most reluctant subjects. As I have indicated, he is a true master of making any human being in his hands beg for death."
Boshevsky stood in front of the Hardy boys. He gave them another hideous smile. Then he extended his hands in front of him. They were huge. He put them together and flexed them to limber them up. The sound of his knuckles cracking was like pistol shots. .
In a voice eager with anticipation, he said, "I am ready to begin."
Chapter 6
FRANK LOOKED AT the torturer standing in front of him and steeled himself. He remembered what his karate master told him about handling pain. Concentrate on the pain when it comes, rather than try to ignore it. By focusing on the pain and judging exactly how intense it really is. your mind becomes occupied so that fear cannot enter it. It's fear that makes pain truly unbearable, and by eliminating fear, you can stand far more pain than is ordinarily believed possible. Frank hoped his karate master was right. He would soon find out.
Joe braced himself, too. He thought of the times that linesmen had piled up on him on the football field, or baseballs had bounced off his ribs when he was batting. Each time something like that had happened, he hadn't quit or even backed off. He'd just seen red and gone after the opposition even harder.
"Do your worst-and see how far you get," Joe said to Boshevsky and to the unseen person who was directing the horror show.
"If you think we'll cave in, you're crazy," Frank added.
The speaker sounded amused. "I wouldn't dream of hurting two fine young men like you. I realize how courageous and dedicated you are. Breaking you down would be a waste of Boshevsky's energy, not to mention a loss of valuable time. Especially when there is a much easier way to get the information we want." Then the voice barked a command. "Bring-her in."
Joe looked toward the door, and his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to believe what he was seeing, yet didn't want to believe it. He felt joy-and pain. "Iola," he whispered.
A guard had led her into the room, his hand gripping her upper arm as he half dragged her to stand beside Boshevsky. When the guard let her go, she made no move to escape. Instead she stood there with a dazed look on her face. "Say hello to your boyfriend, Iola," said the speaker.
"Joe, what are you doing here?" Iola said. "What are they going to do to you?" "Forget about me," said Joe. "What have they done to you? Are you okay? I can't believe you're actually alive!"
But before Iola could answer, the speaker cut in. "Don't worry about what we've done to Iola, Joe. Worry about what we will do to her if you don't tell us what we want to know."
"You wouldn't - " Joe began. "You don't think so?" the speaker said. "Men, convince Joe that we are serious.”
Smiling, the Hardy doubles unstrapped Joe from his chair, grabbing his arms firmly when he tried to lash out in a desperate bid for freedom. He felt their grip and realized that they were as strong as he. That made sense, he thought. Doubles were doubles. Joe II had to be Joe's match, and Frank II had to be at least as well conditioned as Frank, who was in top shape.
Meanwhile, the guard shoved Iola into the chair in which Joe had been sitting. He strapped her in, and Boshevsky stepped forward. Once again he flexed his huge hands and cracked his knuckles. Then with the serious look of a craftsman at work, he reached out with one hand and grasped one of Iola's earlobes, giving it a sharp twist. Iola screamed. Joe felt his knees turn to water and his blood turn to ice.
Boshevsky was reaching for Iola's other earlobe when the speaker said, "That's enough for the moment. Joe has had a hint of what will happen to Iola if he does not cooperate. Believe me, Joe, what you have just seen cannot compare with Boshevsky's ingenuity and enthusiasm in inflicting pain when he really goes to work. But perhaps you don't believe me. Perhaps you want to see more."
"No, no more," said Joe. He kept his eyes on Iola and avoided looking at Frank. He didn't want to see how Frank would react to surrender, because Joe was about to give in. He would do anything rather than hear Iola scream like that again. "You win. I'll tell you what you - "
"Not so fast Joe. Think for a second," said Frank, before Joe could continue. "How do you know this is the real Iola? Remember, these guys specialize in creating doubles." "But her clothes, her voice," said Joe.
"The clothes would be easy," said Frank. "And clearly they can program voices. That would be no trick with a computer to analyze and reproduce voice prints. They could have tapped our phone to get our voices, and as for Iola, remember how she liked to send tapes instead of letters to her friends? They simply got their hands on one of those ta
pes."
Joe wavered. He looked first at Iola, then at Frank. Whom should he believe His brother, or his own eyes and ears?
"Very good thinking, Frank," said the speaker. "We were told you had a fine deductive mind, and indeed you have. Unfortunately, even the best of minds can be wrong. And fortunately, it will be easy to prove it in this case. Joe, ask Iola anything you want, no matter how personal it is. If she is not able to tell you things that only you and she could know, you are free to believe that this lovely girl is not the girl you love. Do you have any objection to that, Frank?"
Frank was silent a moment. He bit his lip, thinking hard. Finally he reluctantly admitted, "I guess not."
"But I do," said Joe. "The stuff I ask Iola isn't' anything I want anybody else to hear, especially your goon squad here. I'm not going to have Iola perform in this human zoo." "You want to spare your true love from embarrassment as well as pain. How very touching," said the speaker mockingly. "But I will agree to your request. You may speak with Iola alone in a room. But I warn you against trying to escape. It would be quick death for both of you."
The speaker needn't have issued his warning. The room into which Joe and Iola were led made thoughts of escape impossible. Like the cell Joe had been in before, it was without windows, and the locked door was made of steel.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Joe and Iola turned to face each other. They would have liked to touch each other, too, but their hands were cuffed behind them.
"A man yanked me away from the car just before it exploded," Iola said desperately. "Then I was blindfolded, and I wound up here. I've been kept prisoner ever since. It seems like forever."
"It wasn't so long ago," said Joe, looking into Iola's eyes. "It seems like just yesterday we were together. Maybe that's why, deep down, I wasn't surprised you're alive. I mean, in my heart, I never really believed you were gone. It's so great to find out I was right. It's so great to find you. One thing's for sure. I'm never going to lose you again, not if I can help it."
The Lazarus Plot Page 3
