A Will to Survive (3 page)

Joe stepped into the hallway. Suddenly he stopped and stood motionless, listening intently.

From somewhere in the distance came a scraping noise. It sounded like something heavy being dragged across the floor. It was coming from downstairs.

Joe hesitated. Should he wake Frank? No, there was too much risk of waking Frank's roommates as well. Joe ran quietly down the stairs to the entrance hall. The heavy silence was unbroken, and the dim security lights did not reveal anything suspicious.

Joe stepped inside the first of the exhibit rooms. As he did, he sensed a presence near him. He started to turn. At that moment, a muscular arm wrapped itself around his neck, then tightened.

Joe struggled for breath. A red film started to descend over his vision.

Joe reached up and clamped both hands on the arm that was strangling him. He tensed, preparing to drop to one knee and throw his attacker over his shoulder. Then he recalled that the room in front of him was filled with glass display cases. Could he take the risk of destroying dozens of precious museum specimens?

On the other hand, could he take the risk of allowing somebody to throttle him? If he didn't do something at once, he might not have the strength to save himself!

To buy time, Joe lifted his right foot and stamped down where he thought his assailant's foot must be. He aim was perfect, but he had forgotten he was barefoot. The other guy wasn't. From the pain in his heel, Joe guessed the other guy was wearing steel-toed work boots.

Joe let himself go limp and slump forward, as if starting to pass out. His attacker leaned forward with him. Instantly Joe used his powerful neck muscles to thrust his head backward. The back of his head struck something with a satisfying crunch, followed by a gasp of pain.

The arm around Joe's neck loosened just enough for him to force his fingers under it. He drew in one quick, welcome breath. Then, before his attacker could recover, he threw all his weight and all the strength of his linebacker's legs into a backward push. After two steps, he felt the other guy slam into a wall. The arm fell away from Joe's throat.

Joe hurled himself away. Spinning on one foot to face his opponent, he dropped into a defensive posture. He raised both hands, ready to strike out with devastating force.

The lights clicked on, blinding him for a moment. A voice he recognized as Tanya's shouted, “Carl! Joe! What's going on here? Stop it at once!”

Tanya was standing in the entrance hall, with a small group behind her.

The man who had tried to choke Joe was a balding six-footer with powerful shoulders and a thick neck. The sleeves on his frayed khaki shirt were rolled up above the elbow, showing a sharp border between his deeply tanned forearms and pale upper arms.

“I caught this fellow prowling around, Ms. Sovskaya,” he said. “He wouldn't come quietly.” He reached up to rub a bright red patch on his left cheek.

“I woke up and heard a noise down here,” Joe explained. “I came to see what it was. This guy jumped me from behind and tried to strangle me.”

Frank pushed through the crowd and came over to Joe's side. “Are you okay?” he asked in an undertone.

Joe massaged the side of his throat. “I'll probably be a little sore tomorrow,” he said cheerfully. “But not as sore as that guy.”

“I see,” Tanya said, raising her voice. “This is all an unfortunate misunderstanding. Carl, that is Joe Hardy, a new intern. Joe, Carl is our caretaker. He is in charge of the upkeep of the house and grounds. As you can see, he takes his job very seriously.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Joe said. To himself, he wondered if Carl's duties always involved lurking around the house at three in the morning.

“All right, everyone,” Tanya continued. “The excitement is over. Please return to your rooms. We have much to do tomorrow.”

Joe shot Tanya a quick, imploring glance. She noticed and understood.

“Joe, Frank,” she said, as the others started drifting upstairs. “Will you stay for a moment? I need to speak to you. Carl, you may go. I'll see you in the morning.”

After an unfriendly look at Joe, Carl left the Hardys alone with Tanya.

In a low voice, Joe said, “I
did
hear something down here. It sounded like furniture being shifted around. I'd like to know what it was.”

“So would I,” Tanya agreed. “Will you and Frank see what you can discover? I'll wait here, in case anyone else returns and wonders what you're doing.”

“We weren't in this room during our look around earlier,” Frank told her. “Can you tell us if anything catches your attention? Don't work at noticing, just let your eyes and your mind roam.”

“Very well.” Tanya walked to the center of the room and slowly turned, letting her gaze move from one corner of the room to another. Finally she said, “The elk. I don't think its head always pointed exactly in that direction.”

Frank followed the direction of her eyes. The stuffed elk was hard to miss. It was mounted on a solid platform painted to look like grass. Its head was raised, as if listening for danger. Its antlers reached almost to the ceiling.

Frank and Joe crossed the room. Joe peered down at the floor. “Look, Frank,” he said excitedly. “Those scratches are fresh!”

A series of parallel scratches showed yellowish on the dark polished floorboards. Frank estimated that the scratches were a bit under a foot long. It looked as if someone had shoved the front of the elk's stand over, pivoting it on the rear part.

“Give me a hand,” Frank said. He and Joe knelt down to push the elk's platform. There was a teethgritting screech as the metal scraped across the wooden floor. They stopped at once.

“That's the sound I heard earlier,” Joe said. “So somebody moved the elk . . . but why?”

The two detectives studied the placement of the elk. “The only reason I can come up with,” Frank said slowly, “is to get to the wall behind the exhibit. I wonder . . .”

With his knuckles, Frank tapped on the carved wooden paneling. He started as high as he could reach and slowly moved down toward the floor. When he got to chest level, the sound changed.

“It must be hollow behind this spot!” Frank exclaimed. He felt the borders of the panel with his fingertips. Was that a crack? He tried to get his thumbnail into it. There was a faint click. The panel swung outward. Behind it, built into the wall, was a cabinet with two shelves. Eagerly Frank leaned forward to peer inside. All he saw was a furry layer of dust and a few dead flies.

“We're too late,” Joe said bitterly. “If only I'd gotten here a couple of minutes sooner!”

Frank took a closer look at the shelves. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “Getting here sooner wouldn't have helped. Nothing's disturbed this dust for a long time.”

Glancing over his shoulder at Tanya, Frank asked, “Did you know this compartment was here?”

Tanya shook her head. “This one, no. But it
doesn't surprise me. The house has many secret doors and stairways. There is a compartment like that in my office I use to store checks.”

“Does everybody know about these secret cabinets?” asked Joe. “I mean, that they exist.”

“It is part of the lore of the place, like the servants' stairs,” Tanya told him. “It's not a secret, exactly, but an unusual and interesting feature.”

“Hmm.” Frank scratched his chin. “Is there a blueprint of the building that would show us where they are?”

“We have the plans that were drawn up when we converted the mansion,” Tanya replied. “But they indicate only those compartments that our architects knew about. This one, for example, is not shown.”

“Still, we should look at the plan in the morning,” Frank said. He added, “I don't know that we can do much more now. And we don't want the others to wonder what we're doing down here.”

As Frank and Joe started up the stairs, Joe stopped his brother. “I didn't want to tell you this with the others around. When I got out of bed, I was careful not to wake Sal. But the moonlight coming in the window was shining on his bed . . . and he wasn't there.”

“You think he—” Frank began.

Joe finished the thought. “Was downstairs hunting for the secret compartment? Could be. We'd better keep a careful eye on him.”

“And who better to do that than his roommate?”
Frank said, slapping Joe on the shoulder. “Starting right now!”

• • •

After breakfast only a few hours later, Frank and Joe joined the other interns in the seminar room. The speaker was a marine biologist from the state university. She spoke about the many life-forms that make their home on the strip of beach between the high-tide and low-tide marks. Colorful slides and videos illustrated the talk. By the end Frank knew he would never look at a beach the same way again. It was so much more than just a place to lie on the sand and bag some rays!

Bruce caught up to Frank and Joe as they left the seminar. “Wendy is leading a junior-high-school group around the indoor exhibits this morning,” he said. “I'd like you two to join the group. You'll get a good introduction to the center and pick up some pointers on handling this kind of assignment at the same time.”

“Sounds good,” Joe said.

They found Wendy in the entrance hall, talking to a guy of about seventeen with shaggy brown hair and a round face. For some reason he made Frank think of a cocker spaniel. Maybe it was his earnest brown eyes.

Frank explained to Wendy about the assignment Bruce had given them. “I hope that's not a drag for you,” he said apologetically.

“No problem,” Wendy said. “Hey, this is a friend of mine, Dylan Silver. He's coming on the tour, too.
Frank and Joe are new interns. This is their first day.”

“You're not in the program?” Joe asked Dylan.

“No,” Dylan replied. “It seems really interesting, though.” From the look on his face when he glanced at Wendy, Frank thought he could guess what Dylan's main interest was.

A group of about fifteen junior-high-school students came in. It was time for the tour. Wendy guided the group through the rooms on the first floor, explaining the maps of bird migration routes and pointing out rare specimens on display. Frank only half-listened. He was busy examining the walls for clues to the location of hidden compartments. He spotted several possibilities that he planned to come back and check out later.

The students were trying an ecology computer game when Tanya came into the room. She beckoned Frank and Joe over. “Can I see you in my office?” she said.

They followed her out. Frank was aware of curious glances from Wendy and Dylan. They probably thought the Hardys were in some sort of trouble.

Tanya closed her office door, then went to her desk. “Listen to this,” she said, pressing the Play button on her answering machine.

A woman's voice said, “Hello, this is Kate Mulhare, with Channel Eight news. I understand that Shorewood Nature Center is having problems with a poltergeist—bumps in the night, display animals moving around, and other strange incidents. I'd
like to set a time to interview you and see when we can bring a crew out to shoot some footage.”

“This is exactly the sort of publicity that could do us in!” Tanya exclaimed. “Who would want to tip off the press? It must be someone who knows all about this harassment campaign.”

“Who knows better than the person who's behind it?” Joe asked.

“I see that,” Tanya replied. “But where does it take us? Can we find out who made the call?”

“We've dealt with a few local reporters in the past,” Frank said. “We could call one or two and ask if they've been in touch with the tipster. But if we do, we'll probably just convince them that there's a good story in it.”

“I see,” Tanya said. She sighed. “No, we do not want that. I suppose I must talk to this woman from Channel Eight. Perhaps I can make what is happening seem very ordinary.”

“The main thing,” Joe suggested, “is not to sound like you're hiding anything. Reporters start to drool when they think someone's trying to hide something from them.”

As he and Joe left Tanya's office, Frank checked his watch. “It's too late to rejoin the tour, but we still have some free time before lunch,” he said. “How about we look over those letters from Parent that Tanya gave us?”

“Where did you put them?” Joe asked. “Not where anybody might spot them, I hope.”

“In your dreams,” Frank retorted. “The envelope's
tucked into a magazine at the bottom of my bag. And I rested a hair across the zipper, so I'll know if anyone's been prying.”

Frank went upstairs and returned with the envelope. He and Joe walked outside to a bench in the shade of a spreading oak tree with a view of the house and lawn. They divided up the letters and started reading.

After a few minutes, Joe gave a snort.

“What?” Frank asked, looking up.

“This guy had some crazy ideas,” Joe said. “Would you believe he wanted to fence off part of the bay as a refuge for stranded dolphins and whales?”

“You think that's something?” Frank replied. He tapped the page in his hand. “How about bringing in a pack of timber wolves as a way of controlling the deer population? Wouldn't the neighbors have loved that? Can't you just hear the howls of protest?”

Joe grinned. “Nope—no wolves, no howls.” He dodged Frank's punch and went back to reading.

A couple of minutes later, Frank said, “Joe, listen to this. It's from the last letter Tanya got from Walter Parent.”

I wonder if you possess all the cleverness and devotion to my vision that I expect and
require.
If you have both, I promise you all the resources you will need to succeed. If you fall short in either, however, I guarantee that you
will fail. This failure will occur two years from today, my birthday. It is not the present I would have wanted, but so be it!