Too Many Traitors (11 page)

"I am ready for any trick," Konstantin said.

He motioned again for Frank to rise, but Frank stayed in his chair.

"I should probably tell you the Gray Man is standing to your right," Frank said.

"A desperate lie," Konstantin said, his eyes fixed on Frank. "Get up."

"You found me out," Frank answered, pretending to be exasperated. "I lied about the Gray Man. I lie about everything. I even lied about not listening to the tape."

Konstantin looked puzzled. "You knew? Then why — "

The Gray Man started to rush Konstantin, but before he could reach him, the Russian spun, pulling his gun from his pocket. He aimed it at the form running toward him.

Joe slapped out, driving Konstantin's hand down, and with a crack a bullet smacked into the disco floor. The Gray Man slammed against Konstantin, knocking him off his feet and throwing him back against the wall.

At the sound of the gunshot, the music stopped. The couples on the dance floor stared at the three men grappling at the table. Then slowly their attention was directed toward the door.

Vladimir and eight Russians rushed in, guns drawn. When he saw Konstantin fighting with the Gray Man, Vladimir snarled rapid orders to his agents. They moved toward the table.

Frank stood. AnD at once a voice came over the loudspeakers. "A top agent for the KGB has actually been a mole working for the Chinese for the last eight years," Martin's voice said. "His name is Konstantin. He was recruited while still in training by Wong Wah Lum, head of China's Third Directorate. Konstantin has since — "

Joe, Vladimir, the Gray Man, Konstantin, and the Russian agents stopped and listened as the voice droned on, outlining Konstantin's acts of treason against the Soviet Union.

Then the voice broke off, replaced by the sound of Konstantin speaking to someone in Chinese and a Chinese voice answering him. By the look on their faces, Frank knew both the Gray Man and Vladimir had recognized the voice of the man called Wong Wah Lum.

Konstantin looked icily at Frank. "You — all the time you — " Fiercely, he kicked aside the wrecked cassette on the floor. "You gave me the wrong tape."

Frank nodded. "Yeah, I sort of lied about that too."

Vladimir pointed to Konstantin. "Take him." He looked over at Frank, Joe, and the Gray Man. "Them too."

"Halt!" came a commanding voice from the doorway. It was Inspector Melendez accompanied by a small army of policemen. He held out his badge for everyone to see. "You are all under arrest."

"Policia!" someone on the dance floor cried out, and in panic the dancers rushed for the door, scattering the policemen. Vladimir clapped his hands, and his agents spread out across the bar. Policemen raced in to grab them.

"I can clear everything up," the Gray Man called to Inspector Melendez. But as he turned his head, Konstantin decked him. The Russian moved for the door. Vladimir flung himself into Konstantin, grabbing the tall Russian around the waist. And Konstantin rammed his fists against Vladimir's back.

In the midst of all this, Inspector Melendez spied the Hardys. "You have made a good run of it, but you are finally caught." He reached for them, but Joe overturned the table, hurling it into the police officer's path.

"That's the guy you want, Inspector," Frank said, pointing at Konstantin. "He killed Martin. We have to go."

Vladimir and Konstantin came stumbling by like a pair of clumsy dancers doing a waltz. Frank leaned forward, pushing them both toward Inspector Melendez. Then he grabbed a chair and threw it through a window. Before the inspector could push through to them, Frank and Joe had climbed through the broken window and landed on the street outside.

"What are we running for?" Joe asked. "They've got Konstantin. It's all over."

"Not quite," Frank said. He looked down the street, empty when they entered the disco but now lined with police cars and autos with diplomatic plates. A policeman stood vigilantly outside one of the police cars. Inside, in the back seat, sat Elena. Frank tossed Joe a ring of keys.

"What are these?" Joe asked, amazed.

"Vladimir's keys. I took them from him when he passed by," Frank said. "Get Elena and Vladimir's car. I'll distract the cop."

Joe crept along the line of cars, staying out of the policeman's sight. From the disco the sounds of fighting continued. The noise caught the policeman's attention, and nervously he drummed his fingers on the squad car's dashboard.

From his hiding place down the street, Frank called to the policeman. The policeman looked around but saw nothing. Frank called again, louder. The policeman got out of the car.

Joe popped his head in the window on the opposite side of the car, startling Elena. He put a finger to his lips, warning her to be silent. Frank called again, and Joe opened the car door with a soft click. Elena slid over and crept from the car. Signing for her to crouch, Joe led her away. They ducked out of sight behind a limousine as the policeman returned to his car.

"Which car is Vladimir's?" Joe whispered. A shrill police whistle pierced the air. Elena pointed out a BMW on the other side of the street, and they all ran to it. In seconds Joe unlocked the doors and they slid in, Elena taking the wheel. She put a key in the ignition and turned it.

The ignition wouldn't budge.

She tried another key, frantically watching in the mirror as the pobceman began a car-by-car search for her. "It will not work," she said, trying another and another. Finally, she tossed the ring in Joe's lap, reached under the dashboard, and brought out two wires. She touched them together. The car started.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Joe asked, as the car pulled onto the street. Ahead, Frank stood in the road, waving at them.

"American television," she replied. The policeman spotted the car and began to run beside it, grabbing at the handles.

"If we stop, he'll catch us," Joe said. They raced toward Frank. Joe reached over the back seat, unlatched the back door, and flung it open. "You'll have to jump for it," he yelled at Frank through his open window.

As the car passed, Frank leapt, snatching at the doorframe. His heels scraped the pavement as he was dragged along, and, straining, he drew his knees up to his chest, lifting his feet off the ground. Twisting, he swung into the back seat of the BMW and slammed the door behind him.

"Glad you could make it," Joe quipped. "Mind telling me now what's going on?"

"In a minute, Joe," Frank said. "Elena, you mentioned Vladimir had a house in Torremolinos. Know where it is?"

"Yes," Elena said.

"Great. Take us there," he replied. "Sorry I couldn't let you in on my plan, Joe. I wanted you to react the way you did in front of Konstantin."

"Let me guess," Joe said. "When you realized what the tape was, you gave it to the disc jockey with instructions to play it over the loudspeakers when you gave the signal."

"Right," Frank said. "He had his own Stones album to play, so it seemed like I gave him the real Stones tape. When I stood up, Martin's tape went on. All I had to do was stall until Vladimir and Melendez got there."

"Good thing they were early."

Frank grinned. "No, they were right when I expected them. If you were trying to catch someone, and they said they'd meet you in a certain place at a certain time, wouldn't you try to get there first? I figured if I told them midnight, they'd be there by eleven."

"I still don't understand what we're doing," Joe said. "Everyone heard the tape. They know Konstantin's the mole, and when it all gets put together, Melendez will let us off the murder charge. So why did we need Elena, and why did we take Vladimir's car?"

"Because it's not over," Frank answered. "The Network played us for fools. Wouldn't you like to pay them back?"

Joe smacked a fist into his other hand. "I sure would."

"This business started because the Network was trying to trade for one of their agents. Now that the tape's public knowledge, it's useless as trade. But Vladimir still has the Network's agent."

"I get it," Joe said. "Vladimir would have him stashed somewhere near, but not in the consulate. So the likeliest place would be — "

"His house," Elena interrupted. They neared a two-story house with curved red tiles on the roof. Around the house was a gate, and as the car approached, a man stepped out of the gate and shut it behind him. He held out his palm, signaling the car to stop.

"Right," Frank said. "We needed Elena to show us where the house was, and Vladimir's car to get us through the front gate. Stay cool."

The car rolled to a stop, and the man, carrying a machine gun, walked up to Elena's window. "Vladimir told us to wait inside," Elena said, bluffing.

The man studied them for several moments, then said something in Russian, his finger nervously tightening on the trigger. "What does he say?" Elena asked, puzzled. "He's on to us," Frank began. "Hit it — " His words were cut off as a hail of bullets ripped into the car.

THE BULLETS DENTED metal and smacked against glass, but they all bounced off.

"Vladimir must have bulletproofed his car too!" Frank said. "Quick! Roll up your window!" he ordered Elena.

But she sat, trembling, as if she'd never heard Frank speak. The man outside started turning his gun on the open spot. Joe reached over Elena, slapping the window control. The bulletproof glass rose swiftly.

"Hold on," Joe cried. From the passenger seat he stepped hard on the gas pedal and grabbed the steering wheel. The BMW lurched forward, speeding toward the gate.

Frank flung his door open. It clipped the man outside as they passed, knocking him off his feet.

He didn't get up. The car crashed through the gate and careened toward the house.

"The brake," Frank shouted. "Hit the brake!"

"I can't," Joe said. "It's too far. Elena!"

All at once Elena snapped her head up. She's in shock, Joe realized. "Elena! Get with it! Hit the brake!" Gasping in surprise, she seized the wheel and slammed on the brake.

The BMW skidded sideways and smashed into a glass-enclosed porch. In a flurry of shattered glass and scattered furniture, it came to a stop.

"Everyone okay?" Frank asked.

"I am," Joe replied. Elena still held the steering wheel, staring straight ahead and shaking. "I think Elena's had better times, but she wasn't hurt." He patted her on the shoulder, and she turned fearful eyes toward him. "Stay here and calm down, Elena. Honk the horn if you see anyone coming."

"She'll be all right," Frank said as he and Joe got out of the car. "We all are, thanks to Vladimir's mania for security."

In the light by the gate Joe could see the armed man's chest rising and falling rhythmically. "He's okay too. Just knocked out."

"Good," Frank said. "Let's go. If there's anyone inside, they couldn't have missed all that noise." He darted into the house. It was simpler than Frank had expected. Just a porch, small dining room, tiled foyer, and sunken living room. There was a tiled stair leading to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs were two Russians. One was slender, but the other bulged with muscles and stood over six feet tall. At a command from the slender man, the big man started down the stairs.

"Trouble?" Joe asked as he caught up with Frank. He spied the giant lurching toward them. Trouble, he thought.

The slender man disappeared down the hall.

"There's no time to waste," Frank said. Together, the Hardys sprinted up the stairs, startling the huge Russian.

He grabbed for Frank, and Joe slammed into him, making him stagger back. Frank ducked under the giant's grasp, stepped past him on the stairs, and slammed his fists against the back of the Russian's knees. The big man's legs buckled, and he toppled.

His hand reached out and caught Joe's shirtsleeve. Over and over they tumbled down the stairs, landing with a thud in the foyer. Frank looked at the twisted bodies below. Neither moved.

"Joe!" Frank called. He started back down the stairs. "Joe!"

Joe, dazed by the fall, lifted his head. "Don't worry about me. Go." He flashed his brother a pained grin, and Frank dashed to the upper landing to follow the slender man. Joe began to disentangle himself from the giant.

The giant lashed out, clamping his hand around Joe's throat. Joe clawed uselessly at the Russian's wrist, and as the Russian stood, he lifted Joe off his feet.

Joe let go of the giant's wrist and clapped his palms as hard as he could against the Russian's ears. The Russian dropped Joe to the floor and cupped his hands against his head. Joe scrambled to his feet.

But with a sweep of his hand the Russian knocked Joe back into the living room against the fireplace. The giant charged at him.

Joe bounded to his feet, backing away from the Russian's punches. "There's no need to fight," Joe said. "My brother has everything under control upstairs, so you've already lost. Let's just call it quits, okay?"

Smirking, the giant raised a meaty fist and swung down at Joe. Joe dived and tackled the Russian. With an astonished look the huge man fell forward and cracked his head into an armor breastplate hanging on the wall. He twirled twice, then crashed to the floor.

Relieved and exhausted, Joe slumped against a wall and wondered what had become of his brother.