Speed Times Five (2 page)

“Well,” he said angrily, “it looks like I'll have to sign up for a race-sponsored support team after all. My trainer got into a car accident on his way through Wisconsin. He's laid up with a busted leg and can't make it for the race.”

The woman working the registration desk looked perplexed. “Mr. Lupin, I'm not sure that we have any support teams still available.”

“That's Michael Lupin,” Chet whispered to the others. “He was on one of those TV survival shows.”

“Did he survive?” Jamal whispered with a smile.

Chet shook his head. “No. He was voted off.”

“Julie, I know it's inconvenient,” Michael Lupin said, speaking to the registration woman, “but we both know that I'm one of the reasons people might tune in to see this show. Ask Bennett if he wants me sitting out the race.”

Julie frowned. “I'll see what I can do,” she said.

Lupin nodded. “Good. Thanks. I knew you'd come through for me. I'm taking the lift up to the summit lodge. I'll take the good news there.” He turned and left the building.

Joe and Frank handed in the last of their paperwork. “Tough customer, that guy,” Joe said to Julie, the registration woman.

Julie shrugged. “No tougher than most of the competitors. Though I'm sure he wants you to think so.” She smiled and handed the teens their race ID tags. “There are two lifts to the big summit lodge,” she said. “The gondola will take your bikes
up. You can either go up with them, or you can take the high-speed quad. It's open-air, so you get a better view, and it's faster as well.”

“Chet and I will take the bikes and equipment up if you want to ride the quad,” Jamal said.

“Sounds good,” Frank replied. “We'll help you load the stuff first, though.”

The four of them unloaded their gear from the van and took it to the gondola platform. Then Frank and Joe headed for the quad chairlift.

When the brothers arrived, there were two other people waiting for the next chair. One was Michael Lupin. The other was a short, tanned woman with long, straight black hair. She wore a black muscle shirt, and jeans with an ornate beaded belt. She and Lupin stood silently, watching the lift approach. A race staff member checked Joe's and Frank's credentials as they passed.

“Hi,” Joe said as the brothers approached Lupin and the woman. “Joe and Frank Hardy.”

“Michael Lupin,” Lupin said, shaking hands.

“Kelly Hawk,” the woman said, doing the same. “Are you boys racers, or support?”

“Racers,” Frank replied.

Lupin and Hawk nodded.

The chairlift arrived, and the four of them seated themselves. In a few moments they were whizzing up the mountainside, suspended from a cable high in the air.

Frank and Joe watched the scenery as they rode. The view was spectacular, taking in Fire Creek
Mountain, the resort below, and the wooded countryside and mountains beyond. The late afternoon sun painted the trees and hillsides a golden color. Ahead lay the summit lodge, a hotel-like structure whose high roofs and many windows echoed the larger buildings of the resort below.

As they drew within thirty yards of the top, the chairlift jerked and bounced on the cable. The chair came to a sudden stop and swayed precariously in the wind.

Joe and Frank looked down. “If this chair lets go,” Frank said to his brother, “we'll need a parachute to survive.”

2 A Long Way Down

Kelly Hawk looked around nervously as a vibration from the cable made the chairlift shudder. “What do you think happened?” she asked.

“Some kind of mechanical problem, I'd guess,” Frank said.

“I'm sure they'll have it sorted out in a couple of minutes,” Joe added.

Michael Lupin checked his watch. “They'd better,” he said. “No way I'm spending the rest of the afternoon in this chairlift.”

The lift swayed dangerously on the cable. “Just stay calm,” Frank said. “They'll fix it soon.”

Ahead of them, the next loaded chair had already made it to the platform. Downhill, another set of passengers dangled nervously in the air.

Joe gazed up at the hardware securing the lift to
the steel cable. All the connections looked intact. “Frank's right,” Joe said. “We're not in any danger here. We should just sit tight.”

Kelly Hawk, seated on the far end of the chair, looked skeptically at the two of them. “You guys are brothers, right? Do you always agree on everything?”

The Hardys chuckled. “Not nearly,” Frank said.

“But we've been in a few tight scrapes before,” Joe added, “and come out okay.”

“Forgive me for not being more trusting,” Hawk said, “but my people have gotten some bad advice over the years.”

“Your people? What do you mean?” Joe asked.

“I belong to the Fire Creek Mohawks,” Hawk said. “My ancestors roamed the land from the Laurentians to New Hampshire's White Mountains long before Europeans came to this continent. This land used to be ours.”

“And you want it back, I suppose,” Lupin said, somewhat annoyed.

Hawk scowled at him. “Some of it, yes. We'd like to keep some of the streams clear of industrial pollution and some of the mountainsides free from clear-cutting.”

“So you're entering the race to publicize your cause?” Frank asked.

Kelly Hawk nodded. “Among other reasons.”

“While we were driving here, we heard something on the radio about Native American protests,” Joe said.

“That's our lawyers fighting it out in court,” Hawk said. “I don't go for that stuff. I'm a one-woman protest and publicity campaign.”

“Well, good luck,” Frank said.

“Both in the race and with your political efforts,” Joe added.

“Thanks,” Hawk said with a wry smile. “Maybe you two aren't as boring and straightlaced as you seem.”

“Before this becomes a mutual admiration society,” Lupin said, “you should know I'm not here to make friends; I'm in this race to
win.
”

“And to make up for your loss on
Last Person Standing
?” Hawk asked.

“I nearly won on the show,” Lupin countered. “And I'm going to win here.” He checked his watch again.

“I crossed a rope bridge hand-over-hand in Borneo,” Lupin said. “This cable is a lot sturdier than that. You can wait if you want to, but if this chair gives way, I'm not going to be sitting here when it happens.” He began to raise the safety bar.

“Don't be an idiot,” Hawk said. “That was a TV show, this is real life.”

“Hey, the
danger
was real,” Lupin shot back.

Frank grabbed Lupin's shoulder. “Don't do it,” he said. “Standing up in this chair could endanger us all.”

“We're in this together,” Hawk said, “so sit down and wait patiently with the rest of us.”

Lupin glanced from Frank to Joe to Hawk. He
lowered the safety bar. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I won't wait forever, though.”

“Tough break your trainer landing in the hospital,” Frank said.

Lupin nodded grimly. “I'm not too happy about using a race-sponsored support crew,” he said.

“I thought all competitors brought their own support people,” Joe said.

“Not everyone has their own team,” Hawk replied. “The race hires crews for racers who don't bring their own.”

“For a fee,” Lupin added. He crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, “Makes me feel like an amateur.”

Just then the chairlift gave a jerk and started moving again.

Moments later they all landed on the staging platform near the summit lodge. A young man wearing a badge that said, Staff: Kendall, quickly walked over to the group. “I am
so
sorry,” he said.

“What happened?” Frank asked.

“Something got jammed in the chairlift equipment at the bottom of the slope,” Kendall replied. “Fortunately, no one was hurt. Mr. Lupin, we've found a new support team for you. If you'd follow me, please . . . The rest of you can hook up with your crews and equipment at the summit lodge.”

“Good deal,” Joe said. He, Frank, and Kelly Hawk headed for the main lodge while Lupin followed Kendall toward an A-frame building marked Administration.

As the Hardys and Hawk neared the lodge entrance, a man and a woman in matching red-and-white uniforms came out of the main doors.

“Ms. Hawk,” the woman said, a look of disapproval marring her pretty face, “my brother and I think it is wrong of you to use this race for your political purposes.”

“As opposed to the commercial purposes you and your brother are using it for, Victoria?” Hawk said archly.

“We have entered the race for the thrill of the competition,” the man said. “If our fame is spread by our victories”—he shrugged—“so much the better.”

“Georges,” Hawk said, “you'd give your eye teeth to get an American sponsor endorsement—don't pretend you wouldn't.”

“No need to be hostile about this,” Victoria said. “Perhaps we could have a more civilized discussion some other time.”

Hawk's dark brown eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a savage?” she hissed.

The man and woman looked shocked. “No, no,” Georges said. “We did not intend it that way. Just, perhaps, that we should speak later. Adieu.” He and his sister turned and jogged off together toward the administration building.

“Who were they?” Joe asked.

“Victoria and Georges Clemenceau,” Hawk said. “Hotshot local athletes looking to make their names across the border. Snobs.” She turned her
head and spat onto the grass. “Look, I'll see you boys later. I've got some things to do.” She turned and headed toward the gondola platform, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket as she went.

“Why didn't she use the phone when we were trapped on the chairlift?” Joe asked, slightly annoyed.

Frank shrugged. “I guess she wasn't any more worried than we were,” he said. He pushed open the door to the main lodge and they both went inside.

The entry opened into a large, wide room with a high ceiling supported by huge timber beams. On one side, a lounge with tall floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the ski slopes. A large stone fireplace was set in a short wall between the windows. Tables and chairs surrounded the fireplace, which—due to the season—had no fire burning in it.

To the right of the entryway, a passage led from the main room to the guest rooms beyond. To the left sat the lodge's registration desk, which was serving as a check-in area for the contestants.

Joe and Frank went to the desk and checked themselves in. The clerk behind the counter assigned them a room for the night and gave them a set of keys.

“The last real bed we'll see for a while,” Joe said, wagging the keys in his hand. “Enjoy it while you can.”

Frank was about to reply when the door of the lodge burst open and a tall, burly man surged through. “Outrageous!” he said, almost shouting.
“Someone could have been hurt. Why wasn't the lift checked before the event started?”

A member of the race staff trailed after him, nodding obsequiously. “I assure you, Mr. Baldwin, the lifts
were
checked before anyone used them. It was an accident, that's all.”

Behind Baldwin and the staff member came three college students—two men and a woman—all wearing UMass T-shirts.

“Well, tell Bennett that he needs to get his act together,” Baldwin said. He stalked over to the desk and held out his hand. “Give me my room key.”

“Who's that?” Joe whispered as he and Frank walked away from the desk.

“Roger Baldwin,” offered one of the students, a thin man with dark curly hair and big sideburns. “He's a former Ironman triathlete, and I guess he's trying to switch sports.” The student extended his hand. “I'm Quentin Curtis. These are my friends, Maggie Collins and Robert Frid.” The other two, a man with short black hair and a woman with long auburn tresses, offered their hands as well.

The Hardys shook hands with them. “Frank and Joe Hardy,” Frank said.

“Are you three a team?” Joe asked.

“No,” Frid said. “We're all competing separately.”

“Though not in a cutthroat way,” Maggie Collins added with a smile. “What about you two?”

“We're competing as well,” Frank said. “Our support crew should be here shortly.”

“When Frank says ‘crew' he actually means our friends Chet Morton and Jamal Hawkins,” Joe said, grinning.

“We're using hired support,” Curtis said. “One of the college alumni pitched in on the cost so all of us could race.”

“Lucky thing,” Frid added, “or two of us would just be along for the ride.”

“Well, nice meeting you,” Frank said. “I'm sure we'll see more of each other during the race bivouacs. C'mon, Joe. We'd better find Jamal and Chet.”

The Hardys left the hilltop lodge and joined up with their friends at the gondola platform. They checked over their mountain bikes, and housed them in a large shed being used to store race equipment. Then all four scouted the next day's downhill course before returning to the lodge for dinner. After dinner, they mingled and scoped out their rivals some more.

The large field of competitors came from all over the northeastern United States and Canada. Most had joined up for the thrill of the race. Many were college students like Curtis, Frid, and Collins. Others, like Roger Baldwin, had crossed over from other athletic disciplines. Some, like the Clemenceaus, hoped to expand their media visibility. A few, like Hawk and Lupin, seemed driven by their own inner fires.

Most of the contestants kept to themselves during the evening and retired early, not wanting to
betray their strategies to their rivals. The Hardys, Jamal, and Chet turned in just before ten.

•   •   •

Morning dawned bright and beautiful over Fire Creek Mountain. Sunlight blazed over the green ridges of the resort and painted the bare ski slopes orange and gold.