No Way Out (2 page)

“And great publicity,” Penny added with a wink.

By the time the rest of the spectators arrived at the maze, twilight had crept over the horizon, swallowing up the last rays of the sun. Everyone gathered in front of the nine-foot outer hedge wall. The opening was draped in a purple cloth. The curtain was bordered by swaying poles of heraldic banners and by authentic twenty-foot-high medieval torches that shot flames toward a sky flushed with gray and orange.

Alan stood on a small platform near the maze entrance so everyone could see him while he made his opening remarks.

“My dear friends and colleagues,” he began, “as you all know, mazes and labyrinths have been unearthed in the ruins of nearly all cultures across the globe. They date back to 1800
B.C
. This maze is not that old, but I feel as though I've been working on it nearly that long!”

The crowd joined in Alan's laughter.

“As most of you know, I've worked on this maze design for nearly four years. The basics of a unique puzzle were already here, but I've added a few touches of my own.”

“No surprises there, eh, mate?” a voice called from the crowd, which responded with cheers and
hoots of approval. Frank looked back through the gathering. The caller was a man Ray had pointed out earlier, a maze specialist from Australia.

“Some of you know me pretty well,” Alan said, nodding and grinning at the crowd. “That's why you're here. Except for you, ladies and gentlemen of the press, this group represents the fiercest maze competitors in the world, and even a few true Mazemasters. I'm proud and honored that you have accepted my invitation to try your hand at this creation. I consider it my masterpiece.”

Another cheer exploded from the crowd.

“As I told you in the invitation, the main competition will be a form of a scavenger hunt. You'll need just three tools to win it: your experience with labyrinths, your proven acute powers of observation, and a Global Positioning System receiver. Most of you probably brought your own GPS. I have a few to lend, if necessary. And for those of you who are interested, embedded journalists will race with you.” He gestured toward the men with cameras.

The Hardys nodded at each other. They had the latest version of GPS units, and had used them a couple of times to help solve crimes.

“The invitation did not mention the prizes that will be awarded to those who solve the maze puzzle,” Alan continued.

The crowd hushed. “Wait till you hear this,” Kay
whispered to the Hardys with a wide grin. “It's spectacular.”

“The maze champion in the scavenger hunt competition will be awarded this.” Alan reached into a large velvet bag hanging from his shoulder and pulled out a shiny object. He held it up, and a golden glow shot off rays in the light of the blazing torches. “It's one of the treasures from my personal collection,” he announced. “An authentic gilded gauntlet from medieval Scottish heraldry. My ancestor won this gauntlet from an archrival in a jousting match like the ones we'll have here tomorrow. And you will have the opportunity to win the gauntlet from me by solving my maze and its puzzle.”

The crowd erupted into a third cheer. “What's that noise?” Joe said to his brother.

“You're kidding, right?” Frank called back over the rollicking shouts of the spectators.

“No… not the crowd noise,” Joe said. “Listen!”

The cheers died down, and Frank heard an odd whistling sound that accompanied Alan as he continued to explain the rules of the competition.

“Is it the bagpipers winding up for the ribbon-cutting?” Frank murmured.

“I don't think so,” Joe answered. “It sounds more like something flying, like something in the air, like—”

Golden-red sparks rained down on the crowd.
People began slapping at their clothes and hair and at the people standing near them, snuffing out tiny embers. The whistling grew louder as a flaming arrow shot over the crowd in a perfect are and landed in the maze wall.

When the blazing arrow landed in the hedge wall, it flickered for a moment, and then fanned into flames.

The crowd quickly divided into three groups. Some panicked and ran away. The reporters took notes, spoke into backpack recorders and cameras, and filmed the growing fire. Others raced to help squelch the flames.

“Come on,” Joe said to Frank. “I think the arrow came from the bleachers. The archer could have hustled up to one of the top rows so he could get a clear view.”

The Hardys hurried toward the stadium, reversing the direction the arrow had taken. A lot of people were running in all directions, so they had to fight to follow their route.

“Let's split up,” Frank suggested. “You go around that way, and I'll take the east side. Be sure to scan under the bleachers. Look for signs of a small fire. The archer had to light the arrow somewhere.”

They took separate paths around the field.

Frank divided his search between weaving in and out under the bleacher stands and gazing over the field and the meadows beyond. He saw nothing suspicious. Finally, he met up with Joe at the opposite end of the field.

“Nothing,” Joe declared.

“Me neither,” Frank said. He peered out around the perimeter of the meadow to the edge of the forest. “He could be anywhere by now.”

“I know—and he still could be here, too,” Joe pointed out. “Just milling around with everyone else, or even helping to put out the fire. We don't have a clue.”

“Let's go back,” Frank conceded. “They might need our help at the maze.”

As they hurried back across the field, Joe saw a rush of silver in his peripheral vision. He turned quickly and squinted into the dim light around a dense woods in the distance. “Do you see something over there?” he asked his brother. “There … toward the trees.”

Frank looked in the direction Joe pointed. “No, I don't see anything. What is it?”

“I'm not sure,” Joe said. “Looked like somebody
disappearing into the woods—somebody in silver.”

“Like someone dressed in chain mail armor?” Frank said, taking off with a burst of energy. Joe was close behind.

The Hardys sprinted toward the woods. When they got to the edge, Frank heard crunching twigs, and a swishing sound like something brushing against the leaves. They followed as far as they could until the forest was too dense and dark to navigate.

Frank grabbed Joe's arm and shook his head. He knew that without light they'd be foolish to go any farther. They could walk into a dangerous trap.

“Let's go back,” Joe whispered, as if he'd read Frank's mind. He turned around and began retracing his steps out of the woods. With each step, he scanned the ground and the surrounding shrubs and weeds. They saw some trash left by the costumed spectators, but nothing that looked like it could be a clue to their quarry's whereabouts or identity.

As they hurried back to the maze, Frank stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I've got an idea.” He led Joe over to a platform that had been rolled to the edge of the field.

“The fire-eater!” Joe said. “Of course. Whoever shot that arrow could have used his platform.”

“And used the fire-eater's equipment to flame the arrow.”

The platform was empty, and there was no sign of the trunk that contained the flammable liquids, ignition devices, and wands that the fire-eater slid down his throat.

When the Hardys arrived at the edge of the maze wall, the fire was nearly extinguished. A small truck from the local village had arrived and pumped steady pulses of water onto the hedge. The crowd had thinned, but those who remained crowded around Alan and his family, consoling them and offering their help and support.

“What happened to you guys?” Ray asked as the Hardys joined them. “I saw you running toward the woods.”

“We tried to run down the archer,” Joe explained. He and Frank told Ray where they'd been and what they'd seen.

“Where's the fire-eater?” Frank asked. “Is he still around?”

“I saw him just a few minutes ago,” Kay said, scanning the small crowd. “There he is.” She pointed to a tall man with a long dark ponytail, still dressed in his orange and yellow costume, helping the firefighters drag the hose a few feet. The Hardys and the twins pitched in to help.

Finally the fire was out, and all the smoking embers were stamped into dust. Frank wandered over to talk to the fire-eater, and Joe and the Hortons walked to the maze to look over the damage.

“What a mess,” Alan said, riffling through the seared hedge. The outer wall of the maze was pierced with a huge burned-out hole, nearly three yards square. Joe and Ray helped him sift through some of the piles of ashes and charred branches. At last Alan stood up, shaking his head. He handed the bag containing the gilded gauntlet to Penny Horton and asked her to take it back to the house. Then he clenched his teeth and stormed to the platform where he'd given his earlier speech.

“Well, you all can see what's happened here,” he said. “Someone has tried to destroy the maze and put a stop to all your fun. Well, we're not going to allow that to happen!” The crowd that remained was smaller than the original one, but made nearly as much noise as they cheered him on.

“We'll have to postpone the opening of the maze for a day or two until we can restore the wall with new hedges. But that doesn't mean that all the festivities must be put on hold. Tomorrow morning the tournament matches, medieval games, and bazaar will go on as planned. Pass the word to those who have already left, get some sleep, and be back here tomorrow, ready to play!”

As the remaining onlookers filed off, Alan went over to talk to a village policeman, Officer Chester. Joe followed and listened to their conversation.

After Alan had given the officer all the information he had about the flaming arrow, Joe spoke up.
“I think I saw someone going into the woods. He was big and was dressed in something flashy and silver, but I didn't get much of a look at his face. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure it was a man.”

“Several people saw someone fitting that description disappear into the forest,” the officer informed him, nodding toward a couple helping Alan with the cleanup. “But, like you, no one saw the face or any other distinguishing features. You didn't see the person's hair, for instance?”

“No, I didn't,” Joe answered.

“Well, then,” Officer Chester said, flipping his notebook closed. “That doesn't give us much, now does it?”

Joe and Alan went back to help Ray, Kay, and the others clean out some of the burned remains. Frank joined them, and Kay questioned him as soon as he walked up. “I saw you talking to the fire-eater,” she said. “What was that all about?”

“Just a hunch,” Frank said. “He said he's from Newfoundland. Has anyone found anything here?”

“No,” Alan answered. “It's getting dark and I'm feeling a little jumpy. I think I'll check the interior of the maze.”

“I'll go with you, Dad,” Ray said.

“Do you need some help?” Joe asked.

“That depends,” Ray asked. “Are you still planning to compete in the maze scavenger hunt?”

“Sure,” Joe answered. “I've got my GPS primed and ready to go.”

“That's what I figured,” Ray said, with a half smile. “So you're not getting anywhere near the inside now. You'll see it for the first time when all the other contestants do.”

“I get it,” Joe said. “Wasn't thinking, I guess.”

While the others watched, Alan unlocked a small steel shed hidden in the hedges on the outside of the maze and stepped inside. He opened the combination lock of a small safe encased in cement and punched a few numbers onto a keypad inside the safe. An eerie glow appeared above the maze.

“Cool, isn't it?” Kay commented as she followed Joe's gaze to the glow over the hedges. “We've got lights embedded in the hedges every few yards. The maze isn't fully lit, but you can still walk it at night and see where you're going.”

Alan fiddled with the keypad another few seconds.

“He's turning off the alarm system?” Frank guessed.

“Right,” Kay answered. “He's not only got alarms at the gate, he's got motion sensors scattered throughout the whole maze.”

Alan closed the shed door and he and Ray disappeared inside the hedge wall. Frank and Joe pulled on heavy cotton gloves that Kay handed them, and began running their hands slowly through the
ashes. Kay followed their lead. Occasionally, someone would feel something weird and pull it out, but it was just a rock or a twig.

Then Frank's fingers closed around something very straight and very smooth. “I've got something,” he announced. He pulled it out of the pile in a cloud of powdery gray ashes, and wiped it off on his jeans.

“That's the arrow,” Kay said. “It has to be.”

‘Well, it's definitely an arrow shaft,” Joe said.

“It's iron or steel—iron, probably, because it looks really old,” Frank guessed. He polished it with a rag that Kay had handed to him. “Look, there's something marked on here,” he said, pointing to the broken end. “A design of some kind. It's like a family crest or a tribal insignia. But it's so worn, it's hard to make out.”

“There might be some words,” Kay said, looking closely. “Or maybe it's just a picture.”

“Check that out,” Joe said, pointing to a series of lines. “What's that?”

Frank spit on the rag and rubbed the arrow shaft with the wet cloth. “It looks like a
B
,” he said.

“It's in Old English script,” Joe said, “like the kind of printing they did in medieval times.”

“You're not going to believe this!” Ray yelled, bursting through the burned-out hole of the hedge. “Inside, in the center of the maze …,” he said, panting between words, “it's trashed!”