A Game Called Chaos (3 page)

“Mr. Rosenberg's expecting us,” Frank said.

“We're here on behalf of Steven Royal,” Joe added.

The guard nodded them past, and the Hardys made their way to the elevator bank at the center of the lobby. A sign there told them Rosenberg's office was on the top floor. They called the elevator and rode it up.

When they got off, they found themselves in a reception area, but the desk was deserted. Through an open door beyond the desk, they saw a balding, middle-aged man talking on the phone and smoking a cigar. He took the phone from his ear and stared at the brothers as they entered the room.

“Mr. Rosenberg?” Joe said, addressing the man. “I'm Joe Hardy, and this is my brother, Frank. We're here to talk to you about Steven Royal.”

Rosenberg put down the phone. “The guard said you were on the way up. Where's Royal? He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Why didn't he come?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Frank said. “We expected to meet him here with you.”

Rosenberg took a pull on his cigar. “That Royal is a pain. If he weren't a genius, I'd never put up with him.”

“So, you
have
seen him,” Joe said.

“Not recently. I just got an e-mail from him this morning . . . Say, if you guys are with him, you should know that.”

“We never said we were with him,” Frank said. “We just said we were here to talk to you about him.”

Rosenberg stood up behind his oak desk. “Who are you guys?” he demanded.

“We told you our names,” Joe replied. “But if you're asking us what we're doing here, we're waiting for Steven Royal, same as you.”

“We're investigators, working on a problem Royal's having with his present employer,” Frank said.

“Police?” Rosenberg said, cocking the cigar to the side of his mouth.

“Private investigators,” Joe said.

Rosenberg sat back down in his padded leather
chair and blew smoke. “Then I don't have to talk to you, do I?”

“That depends on who you'd rather talk to—the police or us,” Frank said. “I'm sure the boys in blue will be happy to stop by here once they finish up at Royal's condo.”

Rosenberg leaned forward and frowned. “What are the police doing at Royal's place?”

“Oh, sorry. We must have forgotten to tell you,” Joe said, “Somebody broke into Royal's place and tossed his stuff. And since Royal's out of town, and since you were the last person to hear from him, I'm sure the police will want to talk to you.”

“Okay, look,” Rosenberg said, “I don't know anything about any break-in. All I know is I got an e-mail from Royal this morning, saying maybe he'd consider coming back to Wondersoft—if I made him the right offer. But, like I said, he never showed up. How was I to know he was out of town? Maybe the e-mail wasn't really from him. People are using the Internet to play pranks all the time.”

“Could be,” Frank said. “Maybe we could figure it out if you showed the note to us.”

“Why should I do that?” Rosenberg asked, sounding suspicious.

“Because we want to help Royal out, just like you,” Joe said. “And if we do, you might benefit.”

Rosenberg pulled a piece of paper out of his
desk drawer. “You boys make a good team,” he said, handing the paper to Frank.

Frank scanned the paper. “Mind if we keep this?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” Rosenberg said. “I can always print another.”

Frank nodded, then said to Joe, “We'd better check in with the police.”

“Right,” Joe said. “Here's our number in case you need to reach us.” He scribbled the phone number of the van on a piece of paper and handed it to Rosenberg.

Rosenberg stood as the Hardys left his office. “Tell the cops I was helpful,” he called after the brothers. “I don't want any trouble.”

When they reached the van, Frank took the wheel and handed the paper to Joe. “See what you make of the note at the bottom,” he said.

“Another riddle!” Joe said.

The King is in the counting house; the Queen is in the dungeon. Their fortunes may be reversed when all the roosting bats come home. Side you with Ignorance or Knowledge? Seek not the apprentice, but the master.

“This certainly seems to imply that Royal is in the money,” Joe said. “But who is the Queen in
the dungeon? Chelsea? She certainly is in hot water.”

“Maybe,” Frank agreed. “If she found Royal—and/or the game prototype—her fortunes would certainly be reversed. There's so much we don't know about this case yet. I hope Chelsea can shed more light on it.”

Joe nodded, then said, “The return address on both the messages Royal sent are different, but I'm betting they came from the same machine. Do you think Phil could trace them?”

Frank smiled. “You bet he could. Call him and put him on it. I'm sure he'll take the time to help his cousin, even though he's working.”

Joe called Phil Cohen on their car phone and gave him the info he needed. As they talked, Frank picked up some burgers and drinks from a drive-through. When they arrived back at the condo, the sun was setting and Winters's car was gone. They didn't see any signs of the police, either. They found Chelsea sitting on a picnic bench by the parking lot; she looked tired.

“The cops wouldn't let me stay in the condo,” she said. “But I wasn't sure where you guys would end up, so I just hung out here.”

“Too bad they kicked you out,” Joe said. “I was hoping to poke around Royal's place a bit more.”

“I did some more snooping while you were gone,” Chelsea said. “But I didn't turn up anything useful.”

“We brought you some food,” Frank said, handing Chelsea a bag with a burger and drink. “We also put in a call to Phil, to see if he could trace your e-mail and another one that was sent to Rosenberg.”

“Great. Thanks,” she said, managing a weak smile. “I'm beat. Why don't we head back to my place and eat there. You can fill me in on what you found.”

“Good idea,” said Joe.

They all piled into the van and headed to Chelsea's apartment, which wasn't far away. Her home was both newer and smaller than Royal's, and it didn't have a view of the river.

The three of them finished eating, and then the Hardys filled Chelsea in on what they'd found out. Afterward she told them what had happened at the condo after they'd rushed off to see Rosenberg.

“Basically, the cops questioned Winters and me,” she said. “He stuck to the story he'd told us—except when he told it to the police, he left out his being inside the condo. I just told the police the truth. Since they knew I'd been worried about Royal, they pretty much took me at my word. They looked over the condo, but didn't find anything.”

“You mean, aside from the mess,” Joe said.

“Yeah. They said the place had probably been robbed by someone who knew Royal was on vacation.”

Joe nodded. “We gave Rosenberg a similar story,” he said. “It makes a certain amount of sense.”

“Only if you can believe the robber just happened to miss an expensive computer sitting in plain sight,” Frank said.

Chelsea smiled. “Yeah. Jewel Ridge must have dumb crooks. Anyway, the cops kicked us out and sealed up the place—until Royal gets back, of course. They let Winters go because they really didn't have anything to hold him on. None of us even saw him in the condo. They promised to keep an eye on him, though, and also said they might want to talk to you guys. Check in with them before you leave.”

“We're used to checking in with the police,” Joe said.

“Okay,” Frank said, “it looks as if Royal may have put one over on Rosenberg, too. Rosenberg wouldn't have called Royal here if he knew where Royal is. In fact, he seemed surprised when Joe and I hinted that Royal was out of town. Winters doesn't know Royal's gone, either. That sure doesn't leave us much to go on.”

“Except for the riddles,” Joe said. “I've been
thinking about them. If ‘My past is the key to the future,' maybe we need to know more about Royal's past. What can you tell us, Chelsea?”

“Well,” she began, “I did some research when we were trying to lure him to Viking Software. His is one of those typical came-out-of-nowhere computer genius stories. Apparently, he and Anne Sakai became friends in college—they had a mutual interest in computers and adventure gaming. Together they came up with Katherine Chaos and the Chaos saga idea. In their spare time, they programmed Caverns of Chaos. It sold well and they landed a contract with Wondersoft, but their second game, School of Chaos, really took off.”

Chelsea took a sip of her drink and continued. “The two of them became famous in the computer gaming community. They traveled all over the world doing gaming conventions and promotional appearances. It probably helped that Anne looked a lot like the game's heroine.

“But in the end I guess that was a double-edged sword. Anne got a lot more attention than she wanted. Maybe she was really a loner at heart. So she cut out on the tour and went on vacation in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, she never came back. Her private plane crashed at sea and she died.”

“Wow. What rotten luck,” Joe said.

“Yeah,” Chelsea said. “She was at the top of her profession before her death. I guess Royal took it pretty hard. But he did do another game, Forest of Chaos, without her. Unfortunately, it didn't do as well as the first two.”

“For which Royal blamed Rosenberg,” Frank added.

“Right, but the game really wasn't as good. With the new game, Royal seems to be back on track,” Chelsea said. “A Town Called Chaos is a great game.”

“What about what Winters said,” Frank asked, “that Anne was the brains behind the games?”

“Well, if that were true, you couldn't tell it from the new game. It's way better than the first three. Personally, I think Sakai's death shook Royal, that's why the third game didn't turn out as well. Winters is just a jealous crank. A
talented
crank, but a crank nonetheless.”

“Did Sakai have any relatives who could still be involved with the game?” Joe asked.

Chelsea wrinkled her forehead and thought a moment. “I'm not sure. I think she had heirs, but Royal never mentioned them. If you like, I can check at the office tomorrow. Do you think they might know where Royal is?”

“They could,” Frank said. “And what about this Tochi character? Do you think he might
have something to do with Royal's disappearance?”

“You mean, he might not have gone off on his own?” asked Chelsea, surprised.

“Yes,” Frank said. “It's entirely possible that Steven Royal has been kidnapped.”

“But you can't be serious,” said Chelsea. “Who would want to kidnap Royal?”

“Could be someone out to get back at him, or at a rival company, or just someone who wants money,” Frank said.

Chelsea looked puzzled. “But if they wanted money, why the riddles?”

Frank shrugged. “Possibly to throw us off. I'm not saying that Royal
has
been kidnapped. I'm just saying that we don't really have enough facts at this point to rule anything out. Steven Royal is missing; that's all we really know.”

“So you think maybe Tochi kidnapped him?” Chelsea asked.

“At this moment anything is possible,” Joe said.
“And Tochi did send that threatening letter that Royal had framed.”

“It's just too much to think about tonight,” Chelsea said. “I need some rest. We can start fresh in the morning.”

“Good idea,” Frank said. “Joe and I should be getting back to Bayport. It's a two-hour drive.” He and Joe stood up to leave.

“I've got a spare sofa if you'd like to stay the night,” Chelsea suggested.

“Well, it would save time . . .” Joe said.

“And we've got some extra clothes in the van,” added Frank. “So, Ms. Sirkin, I guess you've got yourself a couple of houseguests.”

“I'll call home and let them know what's up,” Joe said.

“Check in with Phil, too,” Frank suggested. “Maybe he's turned up something. I'll get some stuff out of the van.”

Joe nodded. “Good idea.”

• • •

Frank and Joe got up early and puzzled over the case as they made breakfast. Phil hadn't had anything to report.

When Chelsea finally joined them, she looked worn out. The Hardys could tell she hadn't slept well.

“What's the good word?” Chelsea asked sleepily.

“Waffles,” Joe said. “Want some?”

She nodded and then took a seat at the small table in her combination kitchen/dining room. Joe plopped a plate of waffles in front of her and Frank poured the syrup and a glass of milk.

“Thanks, guys. I needed this,” she said, taking a big forkful. A few bites later, she added, “You know, I've been thinking about Tochi. I think I read that he went to college with Royal and Sakai.”

“So, all three of them shared a past,” said Joe. “And now one is dead and another is missing.”

At that moment the phone rang. Chelsea picked it up. After listening for a few seconds she handed the phone to Frank. “It's Phil.”

Frank took the phone. “Hi, Phil. Found anything for us yet?” He nodded his head as Phil spoke. Joe edged closer to try to hear the conversation but couldn't pick up anything.

“Okay, that's great,” Frank said. “Thanks. We'll get in touch if we need you again. No. Everything's fine here. Yeah. Goodbye.” He hung up the phone.

“Well?” Joe asked, curious.

“Phil says that whoever sent the e-mails bounced them through a number of servers before they got to Viking and Wondersoft. That's why it took him so long to track them down.”

“You mean like hiring a guy, who hires another
guy, who hires a third guy to deliver a package so someone won't know it came from you,” Joe said.