Danger Zone (10 page)

Frank was now three feet from him - two - Farrell stood stock-still, concentrating on his work.

Frank took a karate stance, poised for attack. He would make a statement, and when Farrell turned, he would - Thwock.

"Oof!"

Frank felt a sharp pain in his gut. His breath whooshed out of his mouth as if he were a burst balloon. Stumbling backward, his arms flailing, he barely saw Farrell retract the backward kick he had just uncorked.

"Like to attack from behind, eh?" Farrell gloated. "You should check there aren't any mirrors first!"

Of course! Frank realized. The chrome. He was watching my reflection in the chrome He scrambled to his feet - but not before Farrell took a roundhouse swing with his right fist. Frank jerked his head back but caught part of the blow on his jaw. He staggered into the side of a table.

Gripping the table, he yanked it back.

It wouldn't budge.

"Sorry, pal, it's attached," Farrell said, sending another punch to Frank's stomach.

Frank let his reflexes do the thinking. His left arm shot out and blocked the punch. Planting a foot, he let fly a kick that connected with Farrell's chest.

Farrell spun around and snatched a fire extinguisher off the wall next to the door. He pivoted, pointing the nozzle at Frank.

"Pretty wimpy weapon, if you ask me," Frank said.

"Who asked you?" Farrell replied. He squeezed the trigger, sending a jet stream of white chemical spray toward Frank.

Frank turned and dropped to the floor. The chemical soaked the area around him. He jumped to his feet and ran to the ship's controls. With a flick of the gearshift he put the engine in neutral. To the right of the shift was a switch labeled "Anchor." He turned it from "Up" to "Down." There was an abrupt grinding noise, then a hum as the anchor lowered itself. For now, the Iron Maiden wasn't going anywhere.

"Hey!" Farrell shouted, and he lost his footing on the cabin floor, slick with white foam. He fell with his feet in the air.

"Well, one good turn deserves another," Frank said. As Farrell scrambled to his feet Frank connected with an uppercut to the sailor's jaw.

Farrell flew against the wall and sank to the floor. The fire extinguisher hit the floor with a loud clank.

Frank braced himself, but Farrell was motionless. He stepped back toward the ship-to-shore phone and snatched the receiver off the hook.

"Operator," a faint voice said.

Farrell's chest heaved calmly up and down. Frank unclenched his fists when he realized his adversary was unconscious.

"Operator," the voice repeated.

"Uh, yes," Frank spoke into the receiver. "I'd like the Bayport - "

Just then a menacing voice filled the room, and Frank fell silent.

"Ouch!" Joe winced as a bobby pin snapped in the lock and dug into his finger.

"Did you get it?" Mrs. Hardy asked.

"No, it got me," Joe replied. "I don't think this is going to work." He eyed the metal table. "Maybe if we can pry this thing out of the floor and use it as a wedge - "

The hastening rhythm of footsteps moving toward them made him stop. Instinctively he glanced up at the phony stemware box. The lens of the hidden closed-circuit camera was still covered by the magazine he'd put up there.

He knew Matyus would find out about it sooner or later. Joe sat down and waited for his men to come in and rip down the magazine.

The door made a resounding clang as it swung open and hit the metal wall. Captain Matyus glowered as he stormed in, but his expression was placid compared to that of the silver-haired man next to him.

It took Joe a moment to recognize who it was. "Hey, you're in on this thing, too, Straeger? I guess you're the stemware expert, huh?"

Immediately Joe wished he could swallow his words. Both men had pistols, and both were pointed straight at him.

Joe put his hands in the air and backed up. "Uh, sorry, fellas. Go ahead, take the magazines away. The camera's still in good shape; I didn't touch the lens."

Mrs. Hardy stood up and faced Straeger. "Who are you?"

"Mrs. Hardy, I hoped we would meet under happier circumstances," Straeger said, swinging the point of his gun to face her. "I had intended to come here as your liberator. I was prepared to have you escorted ashore with my apologies and a cheerful bon voyage. But clearly your husband regards your life - and your son's - with callous disrespect. He has failed to live up to his end of my simple bargain."

Joe stepped in front of his mother. "Put it down, Straeger. Before I came out here I notified people on shore, so it's only a matter of time before someone tracks you down. And you'd be better off with two prisoners than with two corpses."

Straeger's eyes were blazing with a rage that was just this side of sanity. "Unlike your father, I am a man of principle. I always live up to my promises. Therefore I have no choice." He released the gun's safety and aimed carefully between Joe's eyes. "You have your father to blame for this, not me."

"Put it down, Straeger!"

Straeger and Matyus wheeled around. Joe felt his breath catch in his throat.

Standing in the door was Fenton Hardy, his gun pointed at Straeger.

"Well," Straeger said, a smile creeping across his face, "look what the sea washed up. Nice try, Mr. Hardy, but I believe one triumph per day is quite enough for you."

"I'm not so sure, Straeger," Mr. Hardy said. "You know, your little group is a thing of the past. Most of its members have been captured, and the ones that got away aren't likely to stick around waiting for their paychecks. So I'd suggest - "

"That Captain Matyus and I give ourselves up?" Straeger laughed. "Like son, like father. You think the whole thing has been neatly tied up, resolved, don't you? I have unfortunate news for you. At the moment Captain Matyus's first mate is setting a course for the open sea. This ship's shabby appearance camouflages one of the fastest yachts on the East Coast. In minutes we shall be miles from anyone foolish enough to try to give chase. And without the three of you on board we will only go faster."

"You forget, Straeger," Mr. Hardy said, "I'm armed."

Now it was Matyus's turn to laugh. "Yes, but you're also outnumbered, two guns to one."

Fenton Hardy nodded. "True. I am outnumbered. But one of the first things I learned as a detective was that it's not the bullets that count, but where they go."

Four sharp cracks rang through the room, four flashes of light. The bullets embedded themselves in the corner steampipe.

Geysers of hot steam exploded into the room. Joe and his mother spun around and crouched to the floor.

"Duck!" Captain Matyus yelled, pulling Straeger down.

"In the corner!" Fenton Hardy shouted to Joe.

Joe took his mother's hand and stepped back into the brig, away from the door, but she yanked free.

"No!" she said, her eyes focused on the spot where her husband was disappearing behind a cloud of steam. "He's going to burn to death!"

"Come on, Mom!" Joe insisted, dragging her into the corner of their jail.

He looked back, but the room was nothing but hot white vapor. Two shots rang out, accompanied by two sharp flashes of light.

"Fenton!" Mrs. Hardy shrieked.

There was a dull clatter. Joe tightened his grip on his mother's hand. He was having trouble seeing her now. He walked back toward the door, trying to wave a clear path through the steam.

"Get them!" came Captain Matyus's voice.

Just then Joe felt an iron grip on his forearm. He planted his feet and pushed against the unseen adversary.

"Joe, it's me!" He heard his father's whisper. "I blew the lock on the gate. Come on!"

Led by Mr. Hardy, the three of them blundered forward through the steam. Joe gritted his teeth against the searing heat. He knew that if they got too near the pipe, it would be disastrous.

"Get them," Straeger said, echoing Matyus. He was off to the Hardys' left. Fenton Hardy changed directions slightly and picked up the pace.

A moment later Joe felt the air temperature change. His skin began to cool.

They turned a corner, and the air began to clear. Ahead of them stretched a corridor Joe hadn't seen.

"Where are we?" Joe asked.

"Haven't the foggiest," his father replied. "No pun intended."

All three of them spun around as Straeger loudly announced their escape on the intercom. Just then the clonk of heavy footsteps sounded on metal. "Down here!" an unfamiliar voice called out.

"They're coming out of the woodwork," Joe said. "They must have heard the shots."

They backed up and looked into a passageway on their left. Three more crew members, their faces grim and determined, were dropping through a hatch at the end of it.

"This way!" Joe said. He led them toward the right instead.

At the end of the hall Joe could make out a faint square outline of light on the ceiling. A small hatch. "We're out of here!" he shouted, sprinting toward the ladder that led to the hatch.

Joe scampered to the top and pushed against the hatch, once - twice.

It wouldn't budge.

"They're coming!" Mrs. Hardy said.

"Get down, Joe!" Mr. Hardy demanded. He pointed the pistol at the hatch.

Joe jumped down and stood back. Mr. Hardy took aim and fired.

Click. The sound was small and pathetic.

Fenton Hardy's eyes widened. "I shot the full round in the brig," he said in disbelief.

Joe climbed up the ladder again and rammed his shoulder against it. A jolt of pain shot through him, and the hatch stayed put.

"Is there another path?" Mrs. Hardy asked.

"The only thing we can do is backtrack - "

"There they are!" a voice echoed into their passageway.

Joe stood frozen on the ladder. On either side of him were his mother and father. He squeezed their hands and felt his throat turn to cotton as a battalion of six armed men charged toward them.

And he felt himself go numb as Straeger's voice pierced the humid air: "Shoot to kill!"

In a burst of energy, Joe tried the hatch one more time. There was a dull thud and a cracking sound.

I'm breaking it, Joe thought. Just one more shove.

"Get down!" Mrs. Hardy cried. "They're shooting at you!' '

So that's what the crack was. Joe fell to the floor. A bullet whizzed just over his head.

Suddenly Straeger's voice could be heard again: "Ceasefire!"

The passageway fell silent except for a faint murmuring among the crew members. They stepped aside as Straeger pushed his way through to the front.

He stood in the dimly lit corridor facing the Hardy family, his gun ready at his side.

"I want to see this," he said. "I want the pleasure of returning the humiliation I've received at your hands, Mr. Hardy. How does it feel to have your life's plan thwarted? How does it feel to stand in front of a firing squad and know your family is to be shot in seconds?"

"I thought you said we were moving out to sea!" Joe blurted out.

"Don't try to distract me," Straeger shot back.

"I didn't feel us accelerate," Joe continued.

"The engine is quite silent," Straeger said.

"Sure feels like it's idling to me."

"Ready ..." Straeger called out.

The crew members lifted their weapons.

"Don't you think this is overkill?" Joe tried in desperation.

Above him there was a sudden clomping noise on the deck.

"Aim ..."

The clomping turned into a knocking. A shaft of light slanted down into the corridor from the ceiling above.

"What the - " Straeger muttered.

Joe looked up. The hatch was moving!

Captain Matyus appeared behind Straeger.

"Hold it!" he ordered. "Farrell, if that's you up there, knock it off, or you'll be shot, too!"

"Farrell, eh?" came a muffled voice from outside the hatch. "Close - both are two syllables and Irish. But you don't get a cigar, my friend!"

Joe couldn't believe what he was hearing. When the hatch flew open his disbelief flew out.

A familiar, beefy man in a blue uniform stared down at them, his hand clutching a revolver. "Riley's the name. Officer Con Riley, Bayport Police. Hands up, everyone, and drop those weapons. You're surrounded."

"Hi, Mom. Everything all right?" Frank smiled pleasantly over Riley's shoulder. "Seems a little warm down there."

"Frank!" Mrs. Hardy said, enjoying the sound of the name as if she were saying it for the first time.

Joe felt an unexpected laugh erupt. "Yeah, it's hot down here, all right. In fact, I think it's time we put old Straeger here on ice."

"With pleasure," Officer Riley said with a smile. Then his voice became a drill sergeant's bark. "All right, everybody out here - on the double. And don't try anything funny. I've got the entire Bayport Harbor Police with me!"

Straeger's face broke into a cheerful, slightly baffled smile. He handed his gun to one of the sailors. "Officer Riley, I must say I'm happy to see you, but I think you've been misled. It is we who require your services. These people are trespassing on our ship."

"I see," said Riley. "You just happened to be anchored way out here, playing idly with all this fancy equipment, when Fenton, Laura, and their sons decided to break in."

"I can't speak for them, officer, but Mr. Hardy did shoot holes in the ship's pipes. Steam is billowing through every hallway down here."

"Straeger, I believe you like I believe in the tooth fairy," Riley remarked.

Straeger laughed. "Well, then you may end up with a quarter under your pillow. With all due respect, I don't think you can arrest us if the evidence is in our favor."

Riley looked from Straeger to Mr. Hardy and shrugged. "I suppose you're right about that. And it follows you have nothing to hide." Then he shouted over his shoulder: "Wyman, Hastings! Come with me. The rest of you guard the deck and make sure no one leaves."

By this time Matyus and most of the yacht's crew had been herded upstairs and onto the deck. Officer Riley and two other police officers climbed down.

"You realize you won't be able to see a thing in the engine room because of the steam," Straeger said.