The Crowning Terror (2 page)

Joe reached the passageway in time to hear the roar of a car engine on Fifty-third Street. He saw his uncle and the bearded man seated close together in the backseat of a gray sedan. The shorter man sat in the driver's seat.

Sliding down the window, the bearded man snapped off another shot at Joe. Brick chips stung Joe's face as he ducked back into the doorway.

The car pulled out into the traffic. Joe looked up and saw his brother on the sidewalk just ahead. "Was that the car?" Frank shouted.

"Yes," Joe mumbled, barely loud enough for Frank to hear. Joe was angry at himself because the car was gone, and their uncle was beyond help. Joe dusted himself off and ran out to join Frank.

"Hurry up!" Frank said urgently. "They'll get away." Already Frank was running after the car, leaving a bewildered Joe standing on the street corner.

Then Joe turned and saw the tail of the car, just turning the corner. Of course! he realized. This is Manhattan! If it were night, the car might possibly be able to speed off, but it was midday, and New York's streets were clogged with traffic. The Hardys had a better chance of moving quickly than the car did. Their uncle's kidnappers hadn't escaped after all!

The rush of excitement brought to Joe a surge of speed. He dashed along the street, quickly catching up with his brother. The sedan was half a block in front of them, but they were gaining on it with every step.

"You're the track star," Frank said to Joe. "Why don't you sprint up there and try to slow them down? I'll be right behind you."

Joe nodded and took off. He wanted another crack at that tall guy. In the restaurant he may have used a gun, but on the crowded streets a shot, no matter how quiet, would be noticed. The police would be called, and in that traffic, the kidnappers would have little chance to escape. They would have to fight without guns, and once Joe got his hands on him, the bearded man would have no chance at all.

A honking erupted from the gray sedan as Joe neared it. The streetlight was green, and the sedan pushed vainly forward, struggling to get through the intersection before the light changed again to red. But traffic blocked the way. Only a few feet separated Joe from the car now. He stretched out an arm to open the back door.

As the traffic light switched to yellow, a gap appeared in the intersection. Joe's fingertips brushed the handle, but it was too late. The car lurched forward, then sped across the intersection as the light turned red, leaving Joe stranded in the middle of traffic.

Cars blocking him, Joe watched the sedan move farther and farther off. From the corner of his eye, he saw Frank trapped on the street corner behind him.

I'll just have to make a path and try to follow them, Joe decided. He took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and lunged into the oncoming traffic. A taxi slammed on its brakes and skidded. Joe twisted as he jumped. He slammed onto the cab's hood and rolled across the windshield, then slid down off the far side of the car, landing feet first on the pavement. Ignoring the cabbie's angry threats, he continued his pursuit of the sedan.

He could still see it, half a block ahead, stalled once again in traffic. Time seemed to stand still as Joe drew nearer and nearer to the motionless car. He was dimly aware of the tall man turning his head in the sedan's rear window, his face filled with rage.

Joe grabbed the door handle, tearing the door open. The tall man's foot jabbed out, striking Joe in the stomach. The air whooshed out of him, and Joe fell back, smashing into another man. · As Joe tried to balance himself, he looked up into the newcomer's face. There was nothing recognizable about it, apart from sunglasses that covered his eyes. Like the others, the man wore a nondescript black suit, and his face was as expressionless as a mannequin's.

The kidnappers stepped out the far side of the car, dragging Hugh with them. Joe was on his feet, struggling to run in pursuit. But the man in black behind him clamped a strong hand on Joe's shoulder and stopped him.

"You've interfered enough," the stranger said coldly. "We'll handle this." At the snap of his fingers, some other men jumped from cars and took off after Hugh and his kidnappers.

"Get your hands off him!" ordered Frank, running up to them. Swiftly, the man in black reached inside his coat.

"Look out!" shouted Joe. "He has a gun!" He twisted from the man's grasp, ramming an elbo into his chest. With a sharp cry, Frank spun, aiming a high kick into the man's midsection. The man in black doubled over, his sunglasses flying from his face. He staggered back, whipping his hand from under his coat. It held, not a gun, but a small leather wallet.

He flipped it open, and Joe Hardy gasped. The wallet held a card that read: United States Espionage Resources. The man was a government agent!

"You're both under arrest," the man in black said.

"So, YOU'RE THE Hardy brothers," a hoarse voice said.

Frank and Joe had been sitting silently in the pitch-black room. They had remained in their chairs, uncertain of what might be waiting for them in the darkness. Their captors, Frank knew, would come to them soon enough.

At the click of the door opening, a soft blue light was diffused through the room. First they had heard the footsteps, and seconds later the man stepped in and spoke to them.

He was not the same man who had brought them in. This man was also dressed in black, but he was shorter and older, with curly black hair receding on both sides, leaving a widow's peak on his forehead. His small, dark eyes were burning, and his mouth was curled in a smirk. In one hand he held a file folder stuffed with papers.

"Let's not everyone speak all at once, okay?" the man said. "Frank and Joe Hardy. Quite the young adventurers, according to our reports."

"If we're under arrest, we want to speak to a lawyer," Frank said coldly.

The man leaned against a wall. "Oh, you're not under arrest," he said, shaking his head. "We only say that so people won't give us any trouble. By the way, my name's Starkey." He held a hand out to Frank, who didn't take it.

"Then we're free to go?" Joe asked.

Starkey chuckled. "Wake up and smell the coffee, chum. This is what you call protective custody. I've got a lot of questions about you that I'd like cleared up.

"Every time there's a spy or a crook running loose, you seem to be around. Some people might think you're more than a little involved in these situations. Like the one today, for instance. Is it just coincidence that you got in the way of my men, just when we were about to nab a master spy?"

"You're crazy," Joe said. "We're the good guys. We stop crooks and spies. Besides, whoever your 'master spy' is, he had just kidnapped our uncle Hugh."

"We don't have to tell him anything," Frank interrupted. "He's not the law."

"Maybe not," Starkey replied cheerfully. "But I sure am the government. So don't think I can't make plenty of trouble for you if you don't get cooperative real fast."

"If you're really a government agent, get in touch with the Gray Man at the Network," Frank said coldly. There was something in Starkey's manner that irritated him. "He'll vouch for us."

Starkey pinched his chin with his fingertips, as if pondering what Frank had said. "The Network. Frank, let me tell you what the Network means to me. Their budget and ours come from the same fund. As far as I'm concerned, all they do is leech money from Espionage Resources."

He gave the Hardys a nasty grin. "So nuts to them and their vouching. You haven't said anything to convince me you and your brother aren't spies, and until you do, don't bet on any help from the Network. They know I'd use any opportunity to convince the boys upstairs to take away their funding.

"All you and your brother are to the Gray Man right now is an embarrassment." Starkey squared his shoulders and continued. "Let's get back on track. Tell me what you know about Hugh Hunt."

"This is a joke, right?" Frank said. "My uncle Hugh and my father have known each other for years. He's in insurance. What's all this about?"

As if he hadn't heard, Starkey flipped through the file. "According to the Network files, you boys are supposed to be pretty smart. Sounds to me like you're lying or you were born yesterday."

"I don't believe the Network would hand out files on us," Joe said.

Starkey laughed again. "All I had to do was tell them I caught two of their freelancers mixed up in an espionage ring and they practically rolled over and played dead. Everyone's twitchy about possible double agents these days." His smile suddenly vanished. "I honestly don't think you work for Hugh Hunt, though the evidence could easily be read that way."

"Work for him?" Joe asked, bewildered. "Do you really think we sell insurance?"

Starkey stared at him for a long moment. "You really don't know, do you?" The government man was almost laughing by then. "I probably shouldn't tell you anything, but if you're to be of any use to me, you'll have to know."

"Use?" asked Frank. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you hate the light in here? I do," Starkey said, again ignoring Frank. He stretched an arm out, and with a click switched on an overhead light.

The room was small, about six feet by six feet. It was sparsely furnished with three plain wooden chairs and a small table. On the far wall was the door and a large two-way mirror. Frank couldn't tell if anyone was outside watching and listening or not. Starkey straddled one of the wooden chairs.

"That's better," Starkey said. "Now, let me tell you a little story about two men. We'll call them Fenton Hardy and Hugh Hunt, okay?"

"Don't you dare drag my dad into this!" Joe snapped.

Starkey raised his hands in mock surrender and shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of it. That is, unless you boys think there's some reason to." Both Frank and Joe glared silently at him. "Good. Now can I get on with my story?

"During a war in Southeast Asia, Hardy and Hunt met in the army. Now Hunt was quite a bit older than Hardy and already working for Military Intelligence. Hardy was recruited by Hunt and soon both were partnered, working for M.I. They were one hot team, I tell you, busting spies that no one else even guessed existed. You could base thrillers on these guys. Only they were under oath never to tell anyone about their actions."

"We know all this," Joe lied, hoping to shatter Starkey's smugness. But the man ignored him. "So what?"

"So when his hitch was up, Hardy returned to civilian life as a detective." Starkey leaned back. "Meanwhile, the boys upstairs asked Hunt to start up his own counterintelligence service, answerable only to us or the President. They were very convincing. Well, old Hunt's a patriot and not one to turn down an offer from Uncle Sam. So he starts up this spy firm — "

"No way that happened," Frank interjected. "Our uncle Hugh was in insurance."

"I really never thought you were a sucker, kid," Starkey said. "You think we have a sign out front saying United States Espionage Resources? Your uncle's insurance company was a front. Just like we all have fronts. To everyone else, we're just ordinary businessmen. That's why they call us secret agents."

"And the name of your front is Transmutual Indemnity, right?" Frank asked. He smiled as Starkey blinked and nervously licked his lips. Frank had caught him off guard at last.

"Maybe you guys deserve your rep after all," Starkey said finally. "Mind telling me how you came to that conclusion?"

"I was willing to believe your story, Mr. Starkey. We visited our uncle Hugh at his office a few times when we were kids, and I don't remember seeing any customers, or signs that there had ever been any," Frank replied. "But I wondered why you were handling this operation. Why not the Network, or Army Intelligence, or even the CIA? There was something in your voice that indicated Hugh's kidnapping was of personal importance to you."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "So I asked myself why, and only one conclusion makes sense. Assuming your story is true, the agency our uncle founded was probably the United States Espionage Resources. Right?"

Starkey nodded sullenly.

"Therefore, his cover is your cover. Transmutual Indemnity," Frank concluded.

"So that's it," said Joe. "You have to get our uncle back because he's one of you. If you wanted our help, all you had to do was ask."

At Joe's remark the smirk returned to Starkey's lips. "That's where you're wrong, pal. Yeah, we want Hunt back, and your help would come in handy. But that's all you're right about because I don't think Hugh Hunt was kidnapped."

"We were there," Frank said, reminding him.

"When I need memory lessons, I'll ask for them," Starkey replied. "Your uncle quit this agency two years ago, no reasons given. Since then a lot of secrets have been ending up with unfriendly governments. It's obvious that someone with inside contacts is behind it all."

"What are you saying?" Joe asked.

Starkey's eyes narrowed, and there was no humor left in his face. "I'm saying your uncle arranged his own kidnapping because it was time to disappear! I'm saying if it hadn't been for you, we'd have caught a master spy — a traitor with the experience to organize his own spy ring, and the knowledge to keep us running in circles while he robs this country blind!"

Starkey jumped up, jabbing his finger in Frank's face.

"And his name is Hugh Hunt!"

"Uncle Hugh? A traitor? You're lying!" Joe shouted.

"You and me right now, tough guy," Starkey said, kicking his chair aside as he stood. With both hands, he flagged Joe toward him, ready for a fight.

Tempted, Joe flexed his fists. Then his hands fell open. Even if he could beat Starkey, he knew, it wouldn't get them out of custody. And getting out was the only way they could help their uncle. "Another time," he said. "What do you want us for?"

Starkey brightened. "I like that. Straight to the point." He began to pace the room. "You might be able to help us with a problem. Your 'uncle' wrote the book on this organization. It's his rules we follow, and that puts us at a disadvantage when trying to follow him. He's wise to us and our tricks. We've been trying to put someone close to him to get some hard evidence against him, but — "