Speed Times Five (11 page)

“Maybe it'll be clearer once we've slept on it,” Jamal suggested. “After all, we've got an early start tomorrow.”

Joe groaned. “And I thought this was going to be the evening to rest and recover!”

•   •   •

On the last day of the race, the brothers and their friends woke before sunrise. Joe and Frank felt tired and beat up, and a quick breakfast made them feel only a little better. After eating, they all went down to the garage to check the bikes. Most of the other competitors and their crews were there as well.

Lupin and his hired help shot a suspicious glare at the brothers as they entered the underground lot. Maggie Collins waved a weak hello, for which Quentin Curtis and Robert Frid scowled at her. Roger Baldwin ignored the brothers entirely, as did John and Jim from Kelly Hawk's crew. Kelly, though, walked over to the Hardys' work area as the four friends gave their bikes a final once-over.

“See, boys?” she said. “You don't have to hold a minority political view to get folks suspicious. Sometimes all you have to do is to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” A sly grin tugged at the edges of her mouth.

Joe and Frank chuckled. “Good luck today, Kelly,” Frank said.

“Yeah, see you at the finish line,” Joe added.

“You guys, too,” she replied. “And keep your noses clean.” She went back to her preparation area and huddled with her crew.

Vince Bennett came by to wish all the remaining racers good luck. Once again he privately thanked
the Hardys for keeping their eyes open, though he had nothing to report on the hooded man.

Because they had helped Victoria Clemenceau the previous day, the Hardys were still far back in the pack when the race started again. Still, the road portion from Montreal to St. Jean-sur-Richelieu gave them a good chance to make up some ground.

The remaining bike portion of the race passed uneventfully and the brothers pulled into the waterside checkpoint well before noon—back in the hunt once more. Dozens of SeaZoom personal watercraft lined the beach outside of town, waiting for the final leg of the Speed Times Five Adventure Race.

Support crews worked feverishly, preparing the crafts so the small jetboats would be ready when their drivers' turn to start came. Michael Lupin, Roger Baldwin, and Kelly Hawk were among the leaders, as Vince Bennett prepared to start the mad dash for the finish line in Burlington, Vermont.

“It'll be good to get back in the USA,” Jamal said.

“Just make sure you're ready to meet us for the trophy ceremony,” Joe said with a smile.

“We'll be there,” Chet replied, “unless Jamal's driving gets us in trouble with the border patrol.”

They all laughed.

As the Hardys and their friends completed their final checks and stashed equipment, food, and water in the storage compartments under the SeaZooms' seats, the race leaders were finishing the final paperwork before starting.

Baldwin, Hawk, Lupin, and three others gave a last smile to the cameras before taking their positions. As they did, Frank spotted someone familiar walking away from Roger Baldwin's SeaZoom.

“Pierre!” Frank gasped.

“Where?” asked Joe.

“Near Baldwin's SeaZoom,” Frank said. “In the blue paramedic uniform and hat. I almost didn't recognize him.”

He and Joe rose to their feet and started to dash toward the starting area.

“We'll never make it!” Joe said as they ran.

With a final glance to the stands, Baldwin hopped on his jetboat and revved it up. At a signal from the starter, he gunned the engine and zoomed out into the waterway, heading toward Lake Champlain.

“Wait! Stop the race!” Frank called.

It was too late, though. Just a hundred yards offshore, Baldwin's SeaZoom veered suddenly to the right. The brothers watched in horror as Baldwin headed straight for the metal pylons of an old wharf.

12 The Black Boat

Baldwin struggled with the control column of the SeaZoom but to no avail. At the last second, he bailed out of the jetboat as it smashed into the rusting pylons. The SeaZoom exploded into pieces, raining fragments everywhere. People ran for cover as the shrapnel fell on the water and near the frightened spectators on the old dock.

“Where's Baldwin?” Joe said as emergency crews raced toward the scene of the crash.

“I don't see him,” Frank said, scanning the surface of the water.

As he spoke, though, Baldwin's helmeted head popped up. He floundered a bit as the rescue boats came nearer. Several rescue divers jumped in next to him and soon they were dragging Baldwin into their boat.

Half frantic, Vince Bennett ran toward the staging beach. “Clear the way!” he said. “Make room for the rescue boat! We need to keep the race going, too!”

As he passed by the Hardys, Frank stopped him and said, “Why not just restart the leg?”

“We've already got racers in the water,” Bennett said. “It wouldn't be fair to call them back, not when we've got a chance to keep things going. Every race has accidents.”

“This race has had more than its share, though,” Frank said. “I saw someone near Bennett's SeaZoom before he started—one of the guys Joe and I had a run-in with last night: Pierre.”

“He was pretending to be part of the medical crew,” Joe added. “Which is why he seemed familiar when we ran into him in the subway.”

“Maybe they've been working the race, causing trouble all along,” Frank suggested.

Bennett frowned, glancing from the brothers to where the rescue team was docking with Baldwin. The former triathlete seemed to be waving away all attempts to help him. Bennett walked in that direction, and the Hardys tagged along.

“Did you actually see this Pierre try to sabotage the race?” Bennett asked.

“Well, no, but . . . ,” Joe said.

“Look, guys,” Bennett said, stopping just short of the rescue boat, “the sponsors would kill me if I stopped the race now. Talk to my security chief about the man you saw. I don't know what we can
do about him, though, even if he was involved with this accident.” He turned to Baldwin. “Hey, Roger, are you all right?”

“All right?” Baldwin snarled as he pulled off his helmet. “I'm bruised and wet and out of the race. How would you be?”

Bennett looked sheepish. “I'm sure the press would like a word or two with you,” he said. “If you feel up to it before the medics check you over.”

Baldwin hopped out of the rescue boat. He was bruised and scraped, but didn't look much the worse for wear. He let out a long, angry sigh. “Sure,” he said, “I'll say a few words before I head home.”

“I'll get you to the EMTs right after,” Bennett said.

“I can find my own way to the medics,” Baldwin countered. “Let's just get this over with.”

Bennett put his arm around the dejected racer's shoulders. “That's the spirit,” Bennett said. Together, the two of them walked toward the group of reporters. As they got there, Bennett turned to one of his staff members and said, “Keep the race going.”

Joe fumed. “I can't believe he's not even going to investigate this,” he said.

“Business is business,” Jamal said. He and Chet had caught up with the Hardys as the brothers were speaking to the race organizer.

“Let's talk to the security chief and get back to our boats,” Frank said.

“Yeah,” Chet urged. “Your start times are coming up quickly.” As he spoke, the starters launched another competitor's boat into the water.

“Get the final prep done,” Joe said to Chet and Jamal. “Frank and I will be there in a few minutes.”

It frustrated Joe that the security chief spent so little time talking to them. Still, Frank pointed out that the man obviously had a lot to keep track of with the start of the last leg under way.

“He said he'd check with the LMP medical crew,” Frank noted. “We really couldn't ask for more with so much going on. Our best bet is to get back to the competition and keep our eyes open.”

Joe nodded and the two of them rejoined their crew near the beach staging area. As they arrived, Baldwin left in one of the LaTelle Medical & Pharmaceutical vans. The ambulance pulled away quickly, its siren blaring.

“Boy, I hope he didn't have a delayed reaction to the crash,” Joe said.

“They're probably just being cautious,” Frank added.

The atmosphere at the starting line was one of controlled frenzy. Race officials scurried everywhere, making last-minute preparations as the lead competitors launched in rapid succession.

Michael Lupin started shortly after the Baldwin crash, and Kelly Hawk zoomed off the line a few racers later. More competitors hit the water, and the Hardys' start time approached quickly. Just
ahead of them, Curtis, Collins, and Frid churned up the placid waterway.

“You guys still have a chance to win,” Jamal said to the brothers, “but you'll have to make up a lot of time.”

“So no detours along the way,” Chet cautioned.

“We'll keep our noses clean,” Joe said with a smile.

“Which should be easy, since we're racing in the water,” Frank added with a chuckle.

When their numbers were called, the Hardys and their friends quickly carried their SeaZooms to the water's edge and made their final checks. The race had gone smoothly since Baldwin's rough start, and even Bennett was smiling once more. The TV crews seemed thrilled with the excitement of the competition. Helicopters buzzed in the distance, tracking the leaders.

As the starter yelled, “Go!” Joe, Chet, and Jamal pushed the younger Hardy's sleek jetboat into the water. Joe hit the throttle and zoomed out into the cold, clear channel. Frank pulled on his racing helmet. Less than a minute later, Chet and Jamal launched Frank's boat as well.

The elder Hardy quickly caught up with his brother, and the two of them kept pace as they zipped across the water.

The day was cool and sunny, with just a hint of a breeze churning up the surface of the raceway. The noise of the SeaZoom engines was loud in the brothers' ears, making normal conversation
difficult. Still, they could hear the engines of the competitors in front of them, and the buzz of the pack trailing behind.

Chet had stowed a pair of waterproof walkietalkies in with the brothers' gear, and Frank hauled his out as they zipped along. He motioned to Joe, and the younger Hardy did the same.

“I think I see Hawk and Lupin up ahead, past those channel islands,” Frank said.

“They're making good time,” Joe said. “We'll have a tough job catching up to them. The college kids are a lot closer, though. We might be able to pass them by the time we hit the border.”

The late morning was perfect for water racing, and as the sun arced past noon, the air warmed as well.

The brothers' sleek craft bounded over the waves, spraying tiny rainbows into the afternoon sky. The Hardys ate on the fly, pulling prepackaged food from pouches hanging at their belts—under their life jackets—and then stowing the wrappers.

The wind picked up a bit as they crossed the U.S.-Canadian border. The water grew choppy as the brothers passed beneath the bridge near Rouses Point. As the water became rougher, the racers began to bunch up once more.

“The waves are slowing down the pack,” Joe said into his walkie-talkie.

Frank nodded. “That gives us a better chance,” he said. “But we'll have to drive really well to catch Lupin and Hawk.”

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “They've got a good lead. I can only see them when we've got a straight, clear stretch of water.”

“With the wind coming from the east, they're using the central islands as a wind break,” Frank added. “That makes them harder to see and also lets them drive in smoother water.”

Joe smiled. “Sounds like you think we should adopt that strategy, too,” he said.

“Well,” Frank said, “do you want to win or not?”

In response, Joe gunned the throttle and surged ahead of his older brother once more. Frank leaned forward over his sleek craft and zipped after Joe.

By carefully plotting their course between the islands and the open water, the brothers made up even more ground. They'd closed on Frid, Collins, Curtis, and the middle of the field and—as the group passed Isle La Motte—came within striking distance of the front of the pack.

Swirling waves had slowed Lupin, Hawk, and the leaders further, despite their clever island-hugging strategy. Hawk and Lupin jockeyed for the lead, weaving back and forth just enough to fend off other competitors.

“They're lucky that the Clemenceaus and Baldwin are out of the race,” Joe said. “Very lucky.”

“A motive for sabotage, you're thinking?” Frank replied.

Joe shrugged as he bounced over the chilly water. “We haven't come up with a better motive
than wanting to win,” he said. “And we know that Hawk's crew was thinking of putting the kibosh on other racers.”

“I was beginning to think it was Baldwin,” Frank said. “He always seemed to be around the ‘accidents,' even when he wasn't involved. Remember when we passed him in the woods without seeing him? He could have KO'd Georges during that time and pulled his body off the trail.”

“He's certainly strong enough to overpower someone,” Joe said, “and fast enough to keep pace with runners like you and me. But now that he's in the hospital . . . ,” He shrugged. “I keep thinking that there's some vital clue we're overlooking.”

“This case would be easier to solve if we weren't trying to run a race at the same time,” Frank said with a sigh.

Occasional helicopters buzzed overhead as they raced down the lake past the wooded shores of Grand Isle. Most were observation craft, covering the race for TV stations. A few, though, were tourists, just wanting a first-hand look at the contest.

Spectators occasionally dotted the lakeshore as well, and private boats sometimes trailed the fast-moving racers for a while.