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is," Joe remarked, "after we do all this, we won't be any closer to rescuing Dad."
    "But with any luck, we will be soon," said Frank. "After we set up the camera again, we'll wait in the dark corridor for someone to check out the film. Then we'll tail him. If you can stand the wait," Frank kidded, "we might finally see some action."
    "I hope so," said Joe, not responding to the teasing. "Because I get cold chills thinking what will happen to Dad if time runs out."
    "Not to mention what will happen to all those other thousands of people in the city," said Frank.
    It took fifteen minutes to get back to the camera store. After getting the videotape, Frank bought a manila envelope and some stamps.
    "Give me, all your IDs" he told his brother. "If we have bad luck and get caught, we don't want the crooks to know our names and connect us with Dad. At least he won't pay for our fouling up."
    Joe nodded and emptied his wallet. Frank put all the IDs into the envelope, addressed the envelope to their home, put stamps on it, and dropped it into the mailbox. "Great," Joe said. "Now we're stripped for action." A half-hour later he and Frank had set up the camera again and were crouched in the pitch-dark corridor. "If we could just do something," Joe whispered. "All we can do is wait," said Frank. "And keep our eyes and ears open."
    Then Joe heard something, the slightest of sounds, the faint rustling of someone's clothing, Maybe the sole of a shoe brushing the floor. But to Joe's keyed-up senses, it sounded as if an alarm were going off.
    He whirled around, his right fist ready, then lashed out as he faced a dim shape poised to jump him.
    The shiver that went down his arm told him he had made solid contact with a jaw. And the figure toppling backward confirmed his observation.
    At the same time, Frank had swiveled around to find a blunt instrument being thrust down at him. He grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the weapon, flipped the man it belonged to, and, without breaking his flow of movement, delivered a knockout chop to the back of the man's neck.
    "Close call," said Joe. He was breathing hard. "They almost got us."
    "But now we have them. Come on," Frank said. "Let's get them onto those hospital beds and strap them down before they come to. After that we'll have time to figure out how to make them talk."
    "It'll be a pleasure," said Joe. He was bending over to pick up the man he'd knocked out. Frank was doing the same with his man.
    Unfortunately, this time when they heard sounds and saw dim shapes coming at them from the darkness, their hands were full All they had time to do was drop their burdens and begin to straighten up into fighting positions before time ran out on them.
    Then blackness. Blackness filled with pain as hard rubber truncheons were hammered down on their skulls.

Chapter 6
    THE BLACKNESS TURNED to glaring light. Joe's head hurt unbearably as he opened his eyes.
    Groaning, he tried to touch the sore spot on his skull. But he couldn't move his hands-or his feet.
    There was no need to look down. He could feel the straps cutting into his wrists and ankles. Turning his head, he saw that Frank was pinned the same way on the next bed.
    Frank had already come to. When he saw Joe turn his head, he gave his brother a wry smile.
    "Finally," a voice said. "We thought you two would never wake up."
    The man who spoke was tall and pale faced. He wore his long black hair in a ponytail. Drooping on either side of his mouth was a long and straggly mustache. A not-so-white T-shirt and olive green army-surplus fatigue pants completed his sinister look. Beside him stood a powerfully built black man whose huge muscles rippled under a navy blue T-shirt. The man's massive legs were crammed into worn blue jeans.
    Both men were looking at the Hardy boys with hatred.
    They seemed to be restrained from violence only by the man who stood behind them. This third man was short and slight. His tan summer suit, pale blue button-down shirt, and