Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Danger Zone (9 page)
"Don't tell me this whole place is a front for MUX," Frank said.
Straeger laughed. "Nothing quite so grand. Only my little organization, Straeger Security, is involved."
"And who's your boss, Straeger?" Frank pressed. "What's his name, or don't you underlings know?"
"I believe we're ahead of ourselves," Straeger said, dismissing the question. He gestured toward his assistant, the short man with slicked-back dark hair. "Proper introductions have not been made. This is my right-hand man, Mr. Ciejki. He and a few others, including Mr. Brewster and Mr. Muldoon, make up my entire staff. Several months ago there was a series of breakins that left the center's previous security staff completely baffled. When they decided to hire another firm, I applied."
"You also just happened to figure out how those breakins occurred," Frank said, "because you staged them."
"I'm impressed. There may be a job for you here - depending on what we decide to do with you." Straeger smiled and began pacing the room. "My job has given me the opportunity to hear about many fascinating new technologies - including the wonderful new development called Battlechip at Prometheus."
Straeger stopped his pacing and snapped around to face Frank eye to eye. "With the bonus I make for delivering Battlechip to MUX, I'll be able to retire. When you reach my age you'll understand how important that is."
With that he grabbed the phone off his desk and dialed a number. Lifting the receiver to his face, he frowned at the drumlike mechanical device attached to the mouthpiece. "I detest this thing." He stopped grumbling abruptly and smiled. "Greetings, Mr. Hardy. ... No, we haven't spoken. Does my voice sound familiar?" He laughed.
"Well, I know you're struggling with an important decision," Straeger continued, "but I'm happy to say I have a proposition that will make it easier for you to decide. You see, we now have your wife and your son, Frank, who is quite a clever boy. We've given you plenty of time. ... What's that? ... Exactly as we discussed. ... Yes, very good. ... Oh, that won't be necessary, Mr. Hardy. Thank you and goodbye."
Frank didn't like the self-satisfied smile on Straeger's face. "What did he say?" he asked.
Straeger took a drag from his pipe. " 'I will unlock doors to let your men in, if I have to. Just don't hurt my family.' "
"You're bluffing!" Frank shot back.
Straeger raised an eyebrow. "I am? Perhaps you'd like me to call back so you can speak to him yourself."
Frank turned away. He knew Straeger was telling the truth. Humiliation washed over him. He had gone to Marfield to help out and ended up forcing his dad's hand.
"Now only one problem remains," Straeger said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Where shall we keep this young firebrand?"
Brewster smiled. "I could give him a job."
"We can't let him wander around here," Ciejki said. "He'll blow our cover."
"I think the only safe place is right here in my inner office," Straeger said. "Mr. Brewster, I leave him in your capable hands. When I have obtained Battlechip I'll tell you to let him go."
"Right," Brewster said with a snicker.
"Why don't I believe you?" Frank asked.
"Do I detect a note of distrust in your question?" Straeger replied. He laughed. "Not to worry, Mr. Hardy. I always keep my promises. I've found it's the best way to insure that people will believe my threats."
"I'm impressed," Frank said dully.
Straeger turned toward the door. "Well, now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'm off to Bayport. Mr. Ciejki will take my place while I'm gone."
He opened the door for Ciejki, then gave one last wave as he stepped into the hallway.
Alone with Frank, Brewster reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He opened them and stuck the keys into his back pocket. "Okay, wise guy," he said, "sit down - now!"
***
Two hours later Frank was still in the office in a chair, his ankle cuffed to the desk leg, which was bolted to the floor. He had looked at all twelve pictures on the desk calendar, leafed through the desktop dictionary, and solved the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. He was drowning in boredom.
For what seemed like the thousandth time Frank scanned the room. A couple of feet behind him was a wall unit that contained a few notebooks, statuettes, glass figurines, and other knickknacks.
This time an idea hit him.
He looked across the desk. Brewster was sitting there, staring at the sports page of the Marfield Sentinel. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. His head fell to his chest, then jolted up when he realized he was falling asleep.
Frank opened his mouth into a wide yawn. He stretched his arms up, rocking back on his chair. His fingertips extended to the wall unit, and he felt the cold, smooth surface of a glass figurine. He closed his hand around it as Brewster's head began to sag again.
With a sudden sweep of his arm Frank brought the statue down on Brewster's head.
"Wha - " was the guard's last utterance before he slid off his chair and lay crumpled on the floor.
Frank stood up and pivoted on his bound ankle. Supporting himself on his free leg, he leaned toward the body. He was able to reach into Brewster's back pocket for the handcuff keys and unlock himself.
Shaking out his legs, Frank dropped the keys on the floor near Brewster. "Sorry I was such dull company," he said.
With that he sprinted for the window, lifted it, and had one foot out when he felt a tug on the right leg as Brewster's hand closed around his ankle.
Frank kicked back, his heel catching Brewster on the jaw. It was a soft blow but enough to finish the guard, who was really out this time. Frank sprinted for the center's exit.
After retrieving the Firebird and phoning his dad to say he had escaped, Frank drove straight to Prometheus.
"Mr. Hardy! I've been expecting you! Where have you been?" Mr. Winthrop greeted him.
"I was tied up for a while," Frank answered with a straight face.
The head of security was wearing a belted windbreaker and a pair of sun goggles as he greeted Frank at the gate to Prometheus Computing. He waved Frank into courtyard B.
Surprised by the friendly greeting, Frank drove in with Mr. Winthrop trotting behind him. In the same spot where he and Joe had been ambushed the day before a helicopter was waiting.
"What a difference from last time!" Frank said, stepping out of the Firebird.
Mr. Winthrop smiled. "This time we are working together." He signaled the pilot to start the engine, then directed Frank around to the passenger side. "Your father just called a couple of minutes ago to say I should expect you. He told me all the details. Apparently your brother and a friend did a little reconnaissance work, and they think they found the kidnappers' hiding place."
"Is it a boat in Bayport Harbor?" Frank shouted after he climbed in.
"Exactly," Mr. Winthrop shouted back to be heard over the roar of the turning rotors. "How did you know?"
"I've done a little reconnaissance of my own," Frank said loudly.
Mr. Winthrop nodded, then gestured toward the helicopter pilot. "Edward's a top-notch pilot; you're in good hands. Your father will be waiting for you when you arrive in Bayport. He's on the kidnappers' tail and may have located them by then."
"You mean Dad didn't arrange for a breakin at Prometheus after all?" Frank asked with cautious optimism.
Mr. Winthrop laughed. "You certainly have had your ears open, haven't you? Yes, he just called a few minutes ago to arrange for a breakin - with our full knowledge and help. My men and your father's special SWAT team will be waiting to give the intruders a very rude surprise!"
"All ri - i - ight!" Frank exclaimed, pulling the door shut. Rising slowly into the skies above Prometheus, he let out a whoop. Now if only his mom were okay . . . but he had to trust Joe and his dad to help her.
***
The helicopter covered the distance between Marfield and Bayport in a little over two hours. Fenton Hardy was waiting for them at a weed-strewn parking lot next to an abandoned train yard.
As they descended Frank looked at his watch, which now read two-thirty. He hoped they weren't too late. If Straeger had gotten there and found out Mr. Hardy wasn't home.
When the helicopter touched down Mr. Hardy opened Frank's door. "Am I glad to see you all in one piece!" He gave Edward a friendly wave. "Come on," he urged as Frank climbed out. "We don't have any time to lose - they have Joe now, too! There's a boat waiting for us at the harbor!"
"I didn't tell you when I called, but Straeger works undercover for MUX at the Center for Experimental Research," Frank said.
Fenton Hardy cocked an eyebrow. "Good old MUX again, huh? Nice work, Frank - let's finish up!"
The two Hardys ran toward a rented van at the edge of the lot and climbed in.
In minutes they pulled up beside a slip on the Bayport waterfront. An ancient fishing boat bobbed in the water. In front of it Captain Claes stood waiting.
"Thanks for the use of your boat, Claes!" Mr. Hardy called out. "I don't know how I can repay you."
There was a sly glint in the captain's eyes. "Give me time. I'll think of something."
Mr. Hardy, carrying a loaded revolver in a holster, boarded the old boat first. Frank followed, stepping around the air tanks and masks that lay on the floor of the boat.
On Mr. Hardy's fourth tug at the engine cord, the outboard motor finally caught. The boat putted out into the harbor.
"At this rate we'll be there by nightfall," Frank remarked.
"It's the best the old tub can do," Mr. Hardy replied. "They'll be on the lookout for something a little more sophisticated. The element of surprise will be on our side. Give me a hand," Fenton Hardy said, grabbing a fishing net. Frank helped him hook it over the side of the boat. "We have to look authentic."
"Right," Frank replied. "And anything we catch will be our dinner tonight."
Before long an abandoned sailboat came into view. "That must be Joe's," Mr. Hardy said. "Let's anchor here."
Frank threw out the anchor, then joined his dad and put on an air tank. Mr. Hardy sealed his gun in a watertight plastic pouch. Masks in place, they fell backward into the harbor and began swimming underwater.
Frank was the first to find the anchor cable. He climbed up, peeked into the yacht to see the secluded section of the deck behind the wheelhouse, then signaled his father to come aboard.
They huddled silently and listened to an agitated voice from inside the wheelhouse.
"Iron Maiden, Matyus calling. ... Yes, I read you. ... It what? Speak slower. ... No. Who was caught? ... I'll report it to Straeger immediately!"
They heard Matyus hang up the phone. Then his voice took on a hollow sound as he spoke into an intercom. "Mr. Straeger, that was Marfield - "
"Marvelous, Matyus," Straeger replied. "I can finally release these Hardys."
"Uh, well, not exactly, sir," Matyus said. "Frank Hardy has already escaped, and the raid on Prometheus has been turned back."
"What do you mean, 'has been turned back?' " Straeger asked, not concerning himself with Frank's escape.
"It seems that the raid has been ambushed, sir," Matyus said, his voice a little shaky. "Apparently it was all a setup - "
"Whaaat?"
"Most of the men were captured, including Todd Brewster, but two did escape."
"That's impossible! Fenton Hardy gave me his word the doors would be open and no one would interfere. He wouldn't have been foolish enough to pull something like this!"
"Would you like me to give you the details, sir?"
There was a long silence. Frank stole a glance at his dad, who nodded at him and gave him a confident wink.
"No, Captain Matyus." Straeger's voice, sounding sinister and tinny, came over the intercom system. "Set a course for the open sea. I would like you to join me down here in the engine room. At the moment I feel no bitterness or anger, only sadness."
"Sadness, sir?"
"Yes. It has turned out to be a very sad day - for Mrs. Hardy and her son Joe!"
Frank felt blood rise to his face. There was no time to lose. He turned to his father.
"Dad, I - "
But his father wasn't there. Frank crept to the stairway and looked down, then he peered around the wheelhouse cabin.
No Fenton Hardy.
Was he hiding, or had he raced down the stairs?
A sudden thought made him stay where he was. If his dad had wanted him along, he would have said so. Hadn't he jumped out of the van without explanation in the Springfield traffic the day before, only to return with the rented car that had saved them? Chances were that something was up his father's sleeve now, too.
"Stop gawking and pull up anchor, Farrell!" Captain Matyus's voice barked to another man. "Steer this tank out into the Atlantic, top speed. I'm going down to join Straeger."
Frank heard the wheelhouse door squeak open, then slam shut. He ducked around the cabin, taking care to stay low. Captain Matyus circled the other side and descended the stairs.
When the captain had disappeared Frank craned his neck to look into the wheelhouse above him. He could see only one person moving around.
Suddenly there was a loud groan inches from him. Frank jumped, his heart beating wildly.
He looked around to see a mechanized pulley slowly turning, pulling the anchor cable out of the water.
With a soft fooom the yacht's engines purred to life.
They were on their way - out to the open Atlantic, where getaways were cleaner, where bodies could be disposed of and never found.
Frank knew exactly what he had to do now. He slipped around to the wheelhouse door. This Farrell was alone inside, gripping the steering wheel. Frank pulled the door open. A gust of air rushing in blew two sheets off a stack of papers inside.
Farrell let out a sigh of frustration. He bent down to scoop the papers off the floor, his back still to Frank. Frank edged forward.
Stuffing the papers in his trouser pocket, Farrell returned to the wheel. As the boat turned a flash of sun shone through a window and glinted against the chrome on the wheel's housing.