The Deadliest Dare (7 page)

***

Meanwhile Frank hung from the window, staring down at a thickset man of about thirty-five who stood in the high weeds directly under him. The guy was almost completely bald, his fringe of hair and droopy mustache almost the color of straw. In his right fist was a .45 automatic. It was pointed straight at Frank.

"Now, here's what I'd like you to do, kid," he said. "Just drop on down here. Then I'm going to turn you over to some friends of mine for a little chat."

"Hey, mister, don't turn me over to the cops," Frank pleaded, faking a shaky, scared voice. "I didn't mean any harm. And you can see, I didn't steal anything."

"It's not the cops I'm taking you to, punk."

"You're not going to tell my folks?" Frank started to shake as he clung to the sill. "I've never done this before, honest."

"Are you going to get down here? Or do I have to shoot you off?"

"D - don't shoot! I mean, hey, I didn't swipe a single thing. I was just — "

"Look, kid, I'm getting awful tired of this. Just do like I tell you and drop down here." The man's gun wavered a little in annoyance, and Frank took his chance.

He came down, all right, but not in the way the gunman expected. Releasing his hold on the window ledge, Frank kicked hard against the wall with both feet.

That sent him out, as well as down. He landed right on top of the surprised thug.

Even as he was flying through the air, Frank was lining up his first blow. As they fell to the ground in a tangle, Frank's hand reached out for the gunman's wrist.

But the thug was strong. Before Frank knew what hit him, the blond guy had the gun muzzle pressed against Frank's forehead!

***

Frank took a big chance and threw himself forward, smashing the guy's gun hand down. He heard the big automatic thump to the ground.

Frank rose, kicked the gun into the shadows, and ran through the high, wild grass around the old academy.

He found another break in the stone wall, ducked through, and dashed for his car. The tires screeched as he took off, barely masking the sound of the gunshot not far behind.

He drove on, until he found a diner. The fat man behind the counter looked up as Frank came through the door. "How about a dozen doughnuts?"

"Uh, actually, I just want some change for the phone," Frank told him.

"A half dozen, then," the man said. "A half-dozen doughnuts for fifty cents is a good deal, my boy."

"I'm not denying that. But I — "

"See, I'm planning to close this place in exactly one half hour. Usually I sell out the doughnuts, but tonight I'm stuck with a full dozen left over."

"Okay, give me a half dozen." Frank slapped a dollar bill on the counter. "I'll use the change for the phone."

"Why not go for the whole dozen, my boy? You can have them for seventy-five cents. That's an even more astonishing bargain."

"Fine, great. Just so I get change for the phone."

The counterman picked up the dollar bill, carried it to his ancient cash register. After whapping it a few times with his fist, nudging it with an elbow, and pushing several keys, he got it open. He returned with the change jingling in his palm. "Eighty, eighty-five — ninety — one buck it is."

Frank ran to the phone booth at the back of the empty coffee shop. Dropping in his money, he punched in the Hardy home number.

His aunt Gertrude answered at once. "Hello?"

"It's Frank. Any news about — "

"Yes, Joe just called. He's on his way home."

"Is he okay?"

"Well, he claims to be, but he sounds as though he's coming down with something," his aunt answered. "He said to tell you he's found the owner of the scarf and is bringing her, too."

"I'm on my way now." Frank had been debating whether or not to track down Kevin Branders and make him lead the way to where Joe and Jeanne were being held. But he'd decided to check home first. Now he wouldn't have to visit Kevin. Not yet, anyway.

He was nearly out to the street when the counterman called out, "Hey, wait, you forgot your doughnuts."

***

Joe dug his hand into the paper bag, pulling out another doughnut. "Sure, I can eat at a time like this," he assured his brother. "Just watch me."

The Hardys and Jeanne, after Frank had persuaded their aunt Gertrude to withdraw, were meeting in the living room.

"Fine — enjoy them." Frank turned to face Jeanne on the sofa. "Now explain how you got clear of the kidnappers."

"He was very clever," said Jeanne, smiling at Joe.

"Well, actually the guy Curt Branders left to guard us was big, but he wasn't smart," Joe said modestly as he took a bite of his second cruller. "After I knocked him out, I figured it was a good idea for us to get clear of that furniture warehouse as soon as possible."

"You saw Branders? He's in Bayport?"

"And he's up to his neck in whatever's going on," answered Joe. "He's just using this Circle thing as a cover for something much more serious."

"But how does this Gramatkee fit in?" Jeanne asked.

"Willis Gramatkee?" Frank stood up. "The big industrialist? Dad did mention last week that Gramatkee's being pressured to sell out his empire to a big European group."

Joe frowned. "I knew the name was familiar. Sounds like Gramatkee doesn't want to sell."

Frank nodded grimly. "But Curt Branders will take care of that, so they can buy from whoever inherits after Gramatkee dies. It works perfectly. Gramatkee has a mansion somewhere between here and Kirkland."

"Right in Branders's old stamping grounds," Joe pointed out. "So he gets his brother Kevin to start up the Circle as a distraction for the Kirkland and Bayport cops."

"Better than that," Frank said. "If Gramatkee got killed during, say, a burglary, it'd be blamed on the kids. Nobody would even know about Curt Branders. He'd be out of the country, with no one the wiser."

"I think that has to be what's going on," agreed Joe.

"Do you think he'll try to go through with it?" asked Jeanne. "I mean, his plans are falling apart. Thanks to Joe, I'm free and can talk."

"In the league Branders plays in, he doesn't have a choice — he'll have to go ahead." Frank started pacing. "What we have to do, Joe, is get in touch with the police. I think Con may listen to us."

Joe opened his mouth to protest, but Frank cut him off. "We may be talking about an assassination here, Joe. We need all the help we can get to prevent it."

"You're right," Joe agreed grudgingly.

Jeanne asked, "What about Biff?"

"That's right, he's tangled up in this mess, too," said Frank. "I saw him at the meeting place."

"If we're going to the police," said Jeanne, "Biff should have the chance to come along with us. It's my fault he's in this. I don't want them treating him as though he's some kind of criminal, taking part in Curt's plan."

"Okay, we'll call him." Joe picked up the telephone and dialed the Hooper home.

Biff's mother answered. "Yes, hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Hooper, it's Joe Hardy. Could I speak to Biff, please?"

"I'm afraid he's not here." Mrs. Hooper sounded worried.

Joe checked his watch and noticed it was close to midnight. "Would you happen to know where he is?"

"I'm somewhat concerned about him myself, Joe," she answered. "He came home a little while ago, very upset, but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Then a few minutes ago somebody came by and he went out again."

"Who was it?"

"A boy I don't know very well, or care for. His name is Kevin."

"Kevin Branders?"

"Yes, that's who. He was even more upset than Biff, saying something important had come up — they had to have a special meeting — "

Mrs. Hooper suddenly cut off, then said, almost pleadingly, "Do you have any idea what Biff's got himself mixed up with, Joe? I can't help feeling that something is wrong. This isn't like the time he went off to that survival camp, is it?"

Joe hesitated for a second, remembering how Biff had gotten himself kidnapped by a bunch of mercenaries. Before it was over, Frank, Joe, and Biff had all nearly been killed. "I wouldn't worry, Mrs. Hooper," he finally said. "Would you have any idea where they were going?"

"I heard Biff say something about not being able to use the academy. And the other boy said they'd use the old barn."

"Okay, I'm sure you'll be hearing from him soon. Good night, ma'am." Hanging up, Joe turned to Jeanne, "The old barn — where is it?"

"It's the one at the deserted apple orchard about a mile above the academy," she said.

"Obviously they can't use Bushmiller Academy now," said Frank. "They know somebody's been checking the place out."

"Maybe they've been spooked into moving their schedule up," Joe said. "Maybe they'll try to do something tonight—and now it looks like they've dragged Biff into it!"