Scene of the Crime (9 page)

"We want Janet."

"Well, then, I believe a trade can be arranged," the saboteur said. "Bring the film to the wine cellar of the Garfield mansion."

"The wine cellar?" Frank said in disbelief. "But we'll never get in there tonight. The cops have the place wired. Any movement around the house and they'll spot us."

"Not if you guys don't break the silent alarm," Driscoll explained. "Walk along the cliffs until you come parallel to the house. Then walk in a straight line—one behind the other, not side by side—until you reach the wine cellar door."

"All right," Frank agreed. "But still, the cops might see us." "Let's hope for Janet's sake, they don't." Abruptly, Driscoll hung up the phone.

Frank and Joe drove out to Mansion Row. They parked near the wooded area between the Garfield and Wedmont mansions, just as they had after the chase from the airport. Slowly, they made their way through the trees and out to the cliff.

A heavy fog had just rolled in from the ocean, muffling all sounds. As Frank followed Joe he could hardly see the rocks they clambered over. But they could hear the waves pounding below.

They kept low and moved slowly, watching for any policemen patrolling the area.

Finally they drew parallel to the rear of the Garfield mansion. On a balcony above, one guard, a shotgun on his lap, snored away on a reclining chair. A second officer sat across from him, reading a magazine by flashlight.

"From here on in we've got to be absolutely quiet," Frank whispered. "Be sure to follow my footsteps exactly."

"Okay," Joe agreed. "And once in the cellar, no sudden moves until we've got Janet safe."

Frank nodded and led the way as the Hardys inched closer to the wine cellar door. Halfway to their destination, Joe stepped on a twig, loudly snapping it in two.

They ducked down against the side of the house as a flashlight beam scanned the area. But after a moment, the officer on the porch seemed satisfied, and went back to his magazine.

Frank and Joe continued on. The entrance to the wine cellar was slightly ajar. Slowly, they pulled it open and stepped down the steps. Inside, the cellar was pitch black.

Suddenly lights flashed on. But still they saw no one.

"Janet?" Joe called. "Are you here?"

"'Fraid not, fellas."

From behind the shadows of a huge wine barrel, Gil Driscoll stepped out. In one hand he held two sets of handcuffs.

"Put 'em on," he said, tossing the cuffs over to Frank and Joe. "Lock them tight."

Against their better judgment, Frank and Joe did what they were told.

They didn't have a choice.

In Gil Driscoll's other hand, aimed at their chests, was a .44 Magnum revolver!

LOCKED IN HANDCUFFS, Frank and Joe were at Gil Driscoll's mercy. We'll have to take our time, Frank thought, and wait for an opening.

"Did you bring the film?" Driscoll asked.

"You said we'd make an exchange," Frank shot back. "If you want the film, release us—and Janet."

That made Driscoll laugh uproariously.

"When someone points a gun at you," he said, "that's not the time to bargain."

The saboteur thumped a fist on the wine barrel. Responding to the signal, two men walked out from the shadows — the Hardys' old enemies from the airport hangar.

Roughly, the henchmen shoved the Hardys up against a barrel and carefully frisked them.

The taller man reached deep into Frank's safari jacket pocket.

"Look what we have here," he said, coming away with the reel of film.

When the man handed the canister over to Driscoll, Frank was able to get a good look at his face for the first time. It was Wesley!

"So we meet again," Wesley said, his shaven head gleaming even in the dim light.

The shorter man's identity was the real surprise.

"Ty!" Frank exclaimed. The stuntman gave him a toothless grin. His injured arm seemed miraculously healed, no longer needing a sling.

"To think I felt sorry for you hurting your arm in a sabotaged stunt," Joe said.

Ty merely chuckled. "I act a little, too."

"It was a neat trick," Driscoll boasted. "If Ty claimed to have been hurt and went around in a sling, who would ever suspect him?"

"It would also free up his time to help sabotage the other stunts," Frank reasoned.

Driscoll grinned at him. "You Harris brothers catch on pretty quick. A little too quick, I think."

He moved up close to peer in their faces.

"Who are you really?"

Frank and Joe remained silent.

"Okay." Driscoll shrugged. "We'll find out, of course, in due time. We have our ways."

That started Wesley laughing.

Slowly, Driscoll unwound the film and held it Up to the light. He studied the first frame carefully, and then the second. Angrily, he rolled out the entire reel to the floor.

"Blank!" he snarled. "That's a bad move, Harris!"

The back of his hand shot out across Frank's face. The slap hurt, but Frank stood still, his face expressionless.

"Where is the film?" Driscoll demanded.

"We'd have to be pretty dumb to walk in here and just hand it over to you," Joe said. "We want some assurance that Janet is okay."

Driscoll puckered his lips, considering things.

"Okay." He turned to Wesley and Ty. "Bring out the girl."

The crooks went and returned from a back room with Janet. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was gagged. But at least she seemed okay, Joe thought. There were no signs that she'd been roughed up.

"Now," Driscoll said. "Where's the film?"

"Release Janet, and we'll send her to get it," Frank suggested. "We'll remain here as your hostages."

Again, Driscoll laughed. "If I let Janet go, she'll run straight to the police." The saboteur shook his head. "No, that won't do. Now that the three of you are aware of our little hideout, and know how to beat the alarm system, I can't let any of you leave."

"Then you won't get the film back," Joe told him.

"I was afraid of that," Driscoll said. "But I have other plans for you."

Frank shook his head, disgusted. "No matter what your plans, there's no way you'll get away with this. Why'd you sabotage the stunts, Gil? You had everything going for you — a great career, a reputation as one of the top stuntmen in Hollywood ..."

Driscoll smiled. He moved close to the Hardys. Then he poked the barrel of the Magnum against Joe's chest, laughing as he cocked the gun. Joe didn't breathe.

"That was a pretty neat trick with the license plate," Frank said to Gil, trying to divert his attention. "How'd you get that fake plate, anyhow?"

It worked. Gil lowered the gun and turned to Frank.

"They were courtesy of the film's prop shop," Driscoll explained. "After all, it wouldn't be smart to use stolen plates on our stolen car, would it?"

"Why are you trying to destroy the film?" Frank asked.

"Why?" Driscoll smiled, as though he were agreeing that it was a good question. "Because I'm not one of the top stuntmen in Hollywood. I'm the greatest! Perhaps the greatest of all time. And with all my ability, am I given the authority to head the second unit? No! Am I allowed to direct the ingenious new stunts that I've conceived? No way! Instead, that washed-up old fool, Captain Ray Wynn, gets the job."

Janet shouted at him, but it came out as a muffled cry from beneath the handkerchief in her mouth.

Driscoll turned to face her. "Look, honey, your father is a fool, long past his prime. He couldn't fill my shoes if he were twenty years younger. Yet he gets the job of stunt director."

The saboteur held up his forefinger and shook it to make his point. All the while he smiled and nodded his head. Frank realized they were dealing with a madman.

"But I knew I'd get my revenge," Driscoll went on. "Not only on the captain, but also on that loudmouthed moron of a director, Osserman."

Driscoll held his fist high over his head and stared at his white knuckles. "Sabotage! Every stunt they could come up with, we found a way to ruin it. Every single one of them."

"And what was in it for you two?" Joe asked, turning to Wesley and Ty.

The two henchmen glanced at each other and laughed.

"Money," Wesley said. "More money than we can make in a lifetime of stunting."

"And where's this money coming from?" Frank inquired.

Ty grinned. "From the — " "You'll find out soon enough," Driscoll said, cutting off Ty.

He turned to take in all three of his captives. "I must congratulate all of you. Your ability to escape death has been uncanny. However, that won't last much longer."

"You made too many mistakes already, Gil," Joe told him. "Give yourself up now, before you go too far."

Driscoll just shrugged. "Sure. I made the mistake of getting caught on film. Then, when I went to retrieve the reel from the screening room, I found it had already been stolen."

Driscoll turned to Janet, smiling. "But with your note, the situation seemed crystal clear. You'd have to be taken care of, just as we took care of your father when he got too suspicious." Despite the fact that her arms were tied behind her back, Janet charged forward, with a high kick. Her foot caught Driscoll's shoulder, just missing his throat. He let out a howl, flying backward. Janet went to kick him again, but Wesley smashed her to the ground. "Joe, don't!" Frank shouted. But when he saw Janet being pushed around, Joe lost control. He lowered his shoulder and barreled into Wesley, sending him falling back against a crate of wine bottles.

"Hold it right there!" Ty ordered, holding a gun smack up against Joe's forehead.

Frank stepped forward, but Driscoll scooped up the Magnum. "Don't be stupid, Harris."

"I think we'd better follow orders," Frank whispered.

"Too bad," Ty said. "We owe you guys a couple of bruises "Yeah," Wesley agreed, rising to his feet. "Let's work them over."

"Not just yet," Driscoll told them. "I have a far more interesting proposition for our heroic young stuntmen."

Wesley and Ty grabbed Frank and Joe and pushed them down hard onto the cold stone floor. Driscoll sat before them. This time he kept the gun aimed on them.

"Take Janet back," Driscoll ordered his men, "and stay with her while I talk business with Frank and Joe."

Janet struggled, but the two stunters were too strong for her. Ty laughed as he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back into the shadows.

"We have a wonderful situation on our hands," Driscoll told the Hardys once his henchmen had closed the door behind them. "All around us, the police patrol the grounds, completely unaware that we're here."

"How did you find the way to bypass the silent alarm?" Frank inquired.

Driscoll waved the question off. "None of your business. The important thing is, there are no police inside the mansion at night. The entire house is open to us. And do you know what they keep inside the Garfield mansion?"

Joe nodded. "The Newbridge jewels."

A smile spread across Driscoll's face. "Very good. You guys have been doing your homework."

"Is that your plan?" Frank asked. "To steal the jewels?"

"Well," Driscoll considered, "they may not be as valuable as the Wedmont collection, but still they're worth millions." He thought about it some more. "And since we're here ... " He shook his head. "But, no, I'm not going to steal them."

Frank and Joe gawked at him, then breathed sighs of relief. But their ease was short-lived.

"You'll steal them," Driscoll said.

Both Hardys glared at the saboteur, who threw back his head and laughed.

"That's right," he told them. "You two bright boys have figured out so much, you should have no trouble finding a way to pull off the crime of the century for me."

"We won't do it," Joe said. Driscoll just shrugged and called, "Ty!" The stuntman returned, pushing Janet ahead of him, a gun to her head.

Glancing at his watch, Driscoll told them, "You have one minute to change your minds. If not, Ty will shoot Janet. Fifty-six seconds — "

"Don't do it!" Janet shouted.

Frank and Joe looked at each other as Driscoll counted down. "Ten — nine — eight — "

"All right," Frank gave in. "You win."

Driscoll seemed pleased. He whistled, and Wesley came out of the back with a big red sack over his shoulder. "Just like Santa Claus," Joe muttered bitterly.

Driscoll took a pair of walkie-talkies from the bag, handing one to Wesley and keeping the other for himself. Next, he removed a set of blueprints, spreading them before Frank and Joe.

"This is the floor plan of the Garfield mansion," he explained. "As you can see, the jewels are kept in a sealed glass case in the center of the main corridor. An electronic beam encircles the case. If anyone steps within five feet of the jewels, they break the beam and send a silent alarm to the cops. What's more, there's no way to dismantle it."

"So the jewel case is impenetrable," Frank said.

"No way," Driscoll said. "You haven't even tried to come up with a solution. Study the prints." He looked at his watch. "I'll give you ten minutes before we go up into the house."

"Ten!" Joe gasped. "That's impossible!"

"No, it's not!" Driscoll told him. "Our sack of goodies has everything you'll need." He opened it up and looked inside. "We've got rope, pulleys, flashlights, wrenches, and screwdrivers."

Those were the items, Frank realized, that the captain had found missing from the stunt building.

"Oh. That's a whole new ballgame," Joe said. "It's no laughing matter." Driscoll's expression turned stone cold. "I'll be upstairs with you, in touch by walkie-talkie with Wesley. Make any mistakes, or false moves, and Janet gets iced."

"All right," Frank said, rising to his feet. "Let's get on with it."

Driscoll uncuffed them, his eyes wide. "Can you get to the jewels?"

"I have an idea." Frank frowned. "But I'll have to see the actual case to know for sure."

Driscoll motioned for the Hardys to climb up the ladder in the corner of the wine cellar and open the hatch that led directly into the mansion. Joe went first, carrying the sack. Frank followed with the blueprints, and Driscoll brought up the rear with the walkie-talkie and gun.