Crime in the Cards (7 page)

The Hardys crept closer to the game, trying to get a better look at the action. They stuck to the shadows and moved quietly so that the players wouldn't spot them.

“Recognize anyone?” Frank whispered. Joe shook his head. “Not in those get-ups. The masks muffle their voices, too. If we hadn't seen Chet go in, I might not have recognized
him.”

The competition grew intense. The smaller games died away, and soon there was one seven-person game left, with everyone else watching. Through clever play and perseverance, Chet had kept himself in the match.

Others in the group included the demon-masked man, a woman in a leather motorcycle jacket wearing a skeleton head, a vampire, an alien amazon, a rubber-faced ex-president, and a thin blond man in a blue down vest who wore no mask at all.

The blond man, who seemed just a few years older than the Hardys, looked at the demon player and laid a card down. “My DireWurm will aid the Samurai
Scorpion and join the siege against your Onyx Castle.” He sat back and smiled, obviously pleased with his play.

Everyone sat silently for a moment while the demon-masked man pulled a card from the top of his deck and added it to his hand. He chuckled. “Looks like you're all out of luck, then,” the demon said. “ Because my Scarlet Sorceress is summoning up my Bargeist.”

The players watching the game gasped at the bold move. “Fold up your decks,” the demon-masked man said, “this game is mine.” He took the Bargeist card from his hand and laid it out on the ground.

Before he could let it go, Chet reached out and grabbed the demon's wrist.

“I want to see that card,” Chet said, his emotions almost visible.

“Back off, ape-boy,” the demon man said coldly. He tried to pull his hand out of Chet's, but as he did so, a card slipped out of his sleeve and fell faceup on the ground.

“A Titanium Titan,” the skull-faced woman said.

“This guy's been cheating!” Chet gasped.

The demon responded by punching Chet in the face.

Chet staggered back and tripped on a step leading down into the seating area.

Suddenly the room sprang to life as players dove to retrieve their cards. Chet lurched to his feet and lunged for the demon-masked man. The demon shoved the skull-faced woman into Chet. Chet tripped into the ex-president gamer and all three of them fell to the ground.

“Time to step in,” Joe said. He and Frank leaped out from the storefront and sprinted toward the frenzied mob.

The gamers continued to tussle around the conversation pit. Some were already fleeing the scene, their precious cards clutched in their hands. Gerry came
running from the north entrance yelling. “What's going on, man? Have you guys all gone crazy?” His black robes flew out behind him like a cape, but he didn't look at all heroic.

Gerry got to the melee at the same time the Hardys did. Chet was still tangled up with the ex-president and the skull-masked woman. His cards lay strewn around him. The vampire tripped and fell into the pile. The other players began scrambling for the nearest exit.

The demon-faced player and the blond man held each other in a clinch. Joe stepped forward to pull the two of them apart; Frank went to help Chet.

Chet staggered to his feet as the skull-woman sprang up and ran for an emergency exit. The vampire and the ex-president did the same.

“Are you all right?” Frank asked, steadying his friend.

Chet nodded groggily. “Just got the wind knocked out of me is all,” he said.

The demon man spun as Joe reached for him, and the younger Hardy grabbed the blond man instead of his intended target. The man without a mask clouted Joe on the jaw. Joe rocked back and, as he did so, the demon sprinted toward him.

The demon-masked player hit Joe in the gut with his shoulder. The younger Hardy staggered, and his feet got tangled up with the blond man's legs. They both tumbled to the floor.

“Who're
you?”
the man cried. “You weren't in the game!”

“Frank! Chet!” Joe yelled from the floor, “The demon guy's getting away.” He rolled away from the man—who no longer seemed interested in fighting— and got to his feet.

“I've got to pick up my cards,” Chet said forlornly. He pulled off his gorilla mask and looked around at his scattered back-up deck.

“Don't worry, Chet,” Frank called. “We're here to help.”

Joe tossed the cell phone to Chet. Chet caught it and stooped to retrieve his cards. He was the only player left in the mall; even Gerry had vanished.

“Call your sister and Callie,” Joe said. “Tell them what's going on and have them pick you up. With luck, we'll tackle that guy outside. If not, we'll get in touch when we can.”

The Hardys ran for the exit just as the demon-masked player shoved his way out the door. The brothers flew after him into the night. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Fog had sprung up while they were inside, and wisps of it danced like a parade of white ghosts through the moonlit trees. The brothers heard engines roaring nearby.

“Man,” Joe said, “I hope that demon guy isn't on one of those motorcycles!”

Masked Creature Card players milled around, hopping onto their bicycles and taking off. The former president rocketed past the Hardys on a pair of in-line
skates. None of the people nearby was the demon-faced man.

“Look!” Frank cried.

He pointed to two motorcycles and an ATV racing over the top of the wooded hill and on to Callie's trail. All the riders were wearing black jackets—just as the demon man had. Their helmets completely concealed their features. The empty demon mask dangled from a tree just beyond the flooded service road.

At that distance the Hardys couldn't tell which rider might be their quarry. Frank and Joe sprinted to their bikes.

“Good thing we've got our bad weather mountain tires on,” Joe said as they took off after the riders. “If we pedal hard, we might just catch them.”

“Assuming they don't know the trail any better than we do,” Frank said grimly.

The brothers pedaled rapidly up the hill. When they reached the top, they spotted the lights of one motorcycle and the ATV racing down a ravine away from them. The other cycle had vanished.

“Think one of those is him?” Joe asked.

“We've got a two out of three chance,” Frank replied. “And we're not giving up now!” He shot down the hill, his bike bouncing over rocks, roots, and fallen branches. Joe zipped after him.

The rough terrain took some of the advantage away from the ATV and the motorcycle. Because of their greater weight, the machines lurched and bounced more than the Hardys' bikes did. Obviously, neither
of the riders was an expert on rough terrain. They skidded and sputtered their way up and down the hills.

Frank and Joe, on the other hand, had plenty of experience at both motocross and mountain bike races. The Hardys pumped up the hills with ease, and skidded down leaf-covered slopes without mishap. They rocketed across a small stream in their path, and dodged around tree stumps and other obstacles that suddenly loomed up out of the moonlit mist.

The brothers gained a lot of ground on the two riders. Both vehicles were sticking together—at least for the moment. The Hardys reached the bottom of a small gully just as the riders crested the next hill.

The Hardys shot after them. They topped the hill in no time and saw a sprawling subdivision in the rolling valley below. The riders skidded down the slope just a short distance ahead of the brothers.

“This must be Magus Hills—the neighborhood Callie mentioned,” Frank called, without slacking his pace.

“If we had the cell phone, we could tell the girls to cut those riders off,” Joe said.

“We'll just have to do the best we can on our own,” Frank replied.

A large swath of hilly space wound between the large, expensive houses of Magus Hills. A pond sat in the middle of the subdivision, and a three-foot-wide
creek meandered out of the pond and flowed into the distance. Cheery light streamed out of the houses into the dancing silver fog.

During the chase, the woods and mist had effectively hidden the Hardys from their quarry. Now the riders spotted Frank and Joe and both accelerated. It was all the brothers could do to keep up.

“Looks like they're in more familiar territory now,” Joe said, panting.

Frank nodded and redoubled his efforts. Bumping over the open space, they weren't losing much ground, but they weren't gaining any, either. “Should we switch on our headlights?” he asked his brother.

“No,” Joe replied. “We're doing okay without them. At this point they'd only ruin our night vision.”

The ATV and the cycle nearly skidded out near a large two-story neo-Victorian. The backyard lights flicked on automatically, and a commotion rose up in the home. Unfortunately, the riders darted out of the light before the Hardys could recognize them.

Suddenly the motorcycle switched off its lights. A few seconds later, the ATV did the same.

“They must have figured the lights made them easier to follow,” Joe said.

“Or easier to identify,” Frank agreed. His breath came in heavy gasps, and his muscles ached, but he refused to quit.

The brothers had gained on their quarry during the skid out. Now only fifty yards separated them. The winding, landscaped terrain of the open space largely
negated the superior horsepower of the motor vehicles.

All at once, though, a footbridge rose up on the left. The motorcyclist swerved and darted over the bridge as the Hardys whizzed past.

“Lost him!” Joe said. “That cyclist must have known that bridge was coming.”

“Stay with the ATV,” Frank called as the cycle disappeared into the fog. “It's two against one, now, and his rig is clumsy on this landscape.”

“I don't have much left,” Joe said, gasping. “But maybe we can outflank him somehow.”

“Cut over that way,” Frank said. “I'll try to chase him around the other side.”

The flat grassy area they were riding over wound right. Joe cut left, pressing up over the top of a ten-foot-high hill. At the top of the hill, two tree trunks suddenly appeared out of the fog right in front of Joe.

Frank put on a final burst of speed and closed the distance on the ATV.

The rider glanced back over his shoulder. He spotted Frank and swerved left. Frank followed.

Joe darted between the trees, barely missing the trunks with his wide shoulders. As Joe topped the rise, the ATV skidded with Frank in hot pursuit. The four-wheeler was trapped between the brothers and a large pond. Joe barreled down the slope, switching on his headlight, and angling straight for the ATV.

The headlight surprised the rider, and he swerved
suddenly to the right. The ATV's tires skidded on the fog-slick grass and it went into a spin.

Joe clamped down on his brakes, but the tires didn't catch. He slid toward the spinning four-wheeler, unable to stop. Frank, too, skidded headlong toward the impending pileup. Both Hardys braced themselves for a spectacular three-way crash.