The End of the Trail (9 page)

“Come quick!” he cried. “You've got to see what happened!”

“Wait till we tell
you
what happened,” Joe said, but it was clear that Phil was very upset over something. He and Frank followed Phil to Rhonda's house.

The front door was wide open. Mrs. Hibley was standing outside, looking as if she was about to faint.

“Maybe Biff will tell us what happened,” Frank said, stepping inside. “Hey, Biff! Where are you?”

“That's the problem,” Phil said. “He isn't here. Not in the house, anyway.”

“What?” Joe said. “Then where's Rhonda.”

“She's not here, either,” Phil said. “According to Mrs. Hibley, who saw part of it, these two big guys—I think they were the ones we saw carrying that money yesterday—came here and left with Rhonda and Biff. At gunpoint!”

“It was terrible!” Mrs. Hibley cried, standing in the doorway. “I've never seen anything like it!”

“The Brookburn brothers,” Frank said. “They've kidnapped Rhonda and Biff!”

“How did they get Biff out of here?” Joe asked. “He couldn't walk.”

“He was on crutches,” Mrs. Hibley said.

“Do you know where they took them?” Frank asked.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Hibley said. “I didn't see where they went. I had to go sit down.” She still looked as though she was going to faint.

“There's only one thing to do,” Frank said.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “Ask Loraleigh. I think she knows some things she hasn't told us.”

Frank, Joe, and Phil crossed the street to Loraleigh's store, but the door was locked. Frank knocked five times, then peered in the window.

“She must have gone home,” he said. “She said she lived right up the block, didn't she?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “I think that's her house there.”

They walked a couple of houses up the street to an old house with a dilapidated front porch. The name Mason was on the mailbox. Frank knocked on the door.

After a moment Loraleigh opened the door. She was obviously scared of something.

“I don't want to speak to you,” she said, starting to close the door in their faces.

“You'd better speak with us,” Frank said. “Bill McSavage
and his farmhands just tried to kill us. And they've kidnapped Biff and Rhonda.”

Loraleigh closed her eyes in anguish. “Oh, no! I wanted to protect all of you from this.”

“Well, it's too late now,” Joe said. “We're in this up to our eyeballs.”

“Who's that, Loraleigh?” asked a man's voice from the living room.

A middle-aged man with a muscular physique and gray hair appeared behind Loraleigh.

“It's nothing, Dad,” Loraleigh said. “You can go back and watch TV.”

“Actually, Mr. Mason,” Frank said, “we'd like to talk with you, too.”

Loraleigh's father eyed them suspiciously. “Who are you young men, anyway?”

“We're hikers, Mr. Mason,” Joe explained, telling him about Biff's accident and how he had been staying at Rhonda's house.

“Rhonda Harrison's a good person,” Mr. Mason said. “If she's taken you boys in, you're okay with me.”

“Unfortunately, something seems to have happened to Rhonda,” Frank said.

“And Biff, too,” Joe added. “They've been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Mr. Mason exclaimed, sharp concern showing on his face. “How did this happen?”

“We believe it was the Brookburn brothers from the McSavage farm,” Frank said.

“I've never liked those fellows,” Mr. Mason said. “They're not good people. They're too much like the people who worked at the McSavage farm in the ... old days.”

“You mean when the casino was running?” Frank asked.

Mr. Mason's face turned white. “How do you know about the casino?”

“We've seen it,” Joe said. “Big as life and twice as full of cobwebs.”

“I used to work there when I was young,” Mr. Mason said. “I was a blackjack dealer. Bill was a pit boss, working for his father. But I felt dirty, working for an illegal business, so I left.”

“Well,” Joe said, “it looks like Bill's behind the kidnapping.”

Mr. Mason looked startled. “Bill? He's not a very ethical man, but I've never known him to be involved in anything like kidnapping.”

“Maybe murder, too,” Frank said, “if we're not careful.”

“No,” Mr. Mason said. “All of this is impossible!”

“I'm afraid some things have changed, Dad,” Loraleigh said. “I've heard things at the shop.”

“Things?” Mr. Mason said. “What kind of things?”

“Bank robbery, for one, Mr. Mason,” Joe said.

“It's true, Dad,” Loraleigh said. “I've been pretty sure of it for at least a month. Bill and those Brookburn boys stole an armored truck full of cash down in Cold Ridge five months ago. I heard one of the brothers knew a guard at a bank who helped him on the inside. They've been keeping the truck hidden up in McSavage's barn.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this?” Mr. Mason said.

“I didn't want to get you in trouble with Bill,” Loraleigh said. “I know he's an old friend of yours—well, he was a friend of yours years ago—but he's a dangerous man. There's no telling what he might do.”

“We have a pretty good idea,” Joe said. “He and that servant of his came after us with rifles and pitchforks less than an hour ago, and I don't think they were inviting us to go hunting.”

Mr. Mason slapped a fist angrily into his palm. “It's my fault. I should have done something about Bill McSavage years ago, when he was running that casino.”

“It wouldn't have done you any good,” Loraleigh said. “The authorities knew all about the casino, but Bill had some sort of arrangement with them.”

“Arrangement spelled M-O-N-E-Y,” Joe said.

“I want to see Bill McSavage,” Mr. Mason said. “He's got a lot to answer for!”

“Well, we'd like to see him, too,” Frank said. “He's got Rhonda and our friend Biff.”

As if in answer to their wishes, three familiar faces appeared behind them in the door: Quentin's and those of the two Brookburn brothers.

“Mr. McSavage would like to see you two,” Quentin said. “Up at his mansion.” He cocked the barrel of the rifle for dramatic effect. “And he wants to see you
right now!”

“So it's
you,
Quentin,” Mr. Mason snarled.

“You've never much liked me,” Quentin said. “Well, the feeling is mutual. I've never much liked you, either.”

“You're nothing but a common criminal, Quentin,” Mr. Mason said. “Bill pulled you out of the gutter and put you in charge of all his gambling operations.”

“I'd love to stick around and chat,” Quentin said, “but I'm afraid the Brookburn brothers and I have been asked to accompany you up to the mansion. So, come along. All of you!”

At Quentin's urging, Frank, Joe, Phil, Loraleigh, and Mr. Mason stepped out the front door and into the street. The Brookburn brothers gave Joe a particularly nasty look as he walked past them.

Frank and Joe headed up the procession, as they walked toward the house on top of the hill. Quentin walked beside the Hardys, just far enough away so they couldn't grab the rifle from his hand. The Brookburn brothers brought up the rear, guns at the ready.

The door to the mansion was closed. Frank opened it and walked into the foyer. Quentin stepped forward and led them through the large main room and into a small study. Bill McSavage was sitting in a large overstuffed chair at the far end of the room.

“What's this about you stealing an armored truck?” Mr. Mason snapped when he saw his old friend.

“Quiet, Jack,” McSavage said. “You and me don't have anything to talk about anymore.”

“It sounds like we do,” Mr. Mason said. “I should have turned you in to the law a long time ago. It was only a matter of time before you'd do something as stupid as pull off a robbery. And I hear you're guilty of kidnapping now, too!”

McSavage sneered. “That's true. I've just kidnapped
you,
after all.”

“Why did you bring us up here?” Joe asked.

“You know too much,” McSavage said. “It's dangerous to let you run around loose. I'm going to have to keep you locked up here at the house for a while until I decide what to do with you.”

“I don't suppose you'll decide to let us go,” Frank said.

“That doesn't seem likely,” McSavage said. “Jack Mason here will blab everything—and I suspect the rest of you will start talking as soon as you're out of this town. No, I can't let you go.”

Loraleigh looked startled. “Then ... that means ...”

“He won't get away with kidnapping us,” Frank said. “I won't let him.”

“My, you're a brave young man,” McSavage said with a laugh. “Quentin, why don't you show these folks to the room where they'll be spending the night?”

“I'd be glad to, sir,” the man said, looking at Frank, Joe, and friends with contempt.

Jack Mason put an arm around his daughter's shoulders. “I'll protect you, honey. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

Quentin led them back out of the study, the Brookburn brothers once again bringing up the rear. The servant led them to an ornate staircase that took them up to the second floor. Down the long hall were several rooms. Quentin ushered the group into one.

Two people were already there: Biff and Rhonda. They looked up when the others entered. For a moment they seemed pleased to see the others, until they realized that their friends were captives, too.

“Hey!” Biff cried. “It's good to see you guys! I mean, it's nice to ... er, I was hoping to ...”

“See us somewhere outside this house?” Joe said. “Yeah, we were trying to rescue you, but it looks like we've wound up getting locked up with you.”

Quentin left the room, closing the door behind him. There was the sound of a latch being fastened.

The room was oddly furnished with a long table with several chairs along one side of it. On the table were half a dozen or so old telephones that looked as though they hadn't been used in a while. Frank picked up a phone receiver and put it to his ear. There was no dial tone.

“It's dead,” he said. “Too bad.”

“What is this place, anyway?” Joe said. “Why all these telephones?”

“Yeah, Rhonda and I have been wondering about that, too,” Biff said.

“I think I know,” Frank said. “This place used to be a casino, right?”

“News to me,” Biff said.

“Yeah, we discovered the old equipment in the basement,” Joe said. “They've got roulette tables, slot machines, the works.”

“And this room must have been for placing bets,” Frank said. “Not on the gambling in the basement, but on other things, like horse races and sporting events.”

“You mean, the McSavages were bookies, too?” Joe asked.

“Sure,” Frank said. “It looks like McSavage's family
had an off-track betting operation a long time before it was legal.”

“This doesn't do us any good if we can't call out,” Biff said, frowning. “I'm sorry, guys. I really got us into a mess.”

“It's not your fault, Biff,” Frank said.

“Oh, I'm not so sure about that,” Joe said jokingly. “If Biff hadn't hurt his leg—”

“Ahem!” Phil Cohen cleared his throat loudly. “Maybe these phones can do us some good after all.”

“Huh?” Joe said. “Only if we hit Quentin over the head with a couple of them.”

“No, that's not what I mean,” Phil said. “Look at those wires.”

Everybody followed Phil's gaze. All of the phone wires ran through a single round hole in the wall.

“What about them?” Joe asked.

“They have to go somewhere, right?” Phil said.

“Yeah?” Joe shrugged. “So how does that help us?”

“Look closely at the wall,” Phil said.

Frank looked. He noticed what appeared to be the outline of a door that had been plastered over. It was directly over the hole where the wires disappeared. “What do you know,” Frank said. “There used to be a closet here.”

“Not a closet,” Phil said. “A telephone exchange. The phones in this room are old, and it must have required some major equipment to keep all of them
working, especially when the betting got heavy. They didn't have miniaturized electronics when this place was in its heyday.”

“So what good does that do us?” Joe asked.

“I'm not sure,” Phil said, “but I'd like to take a look at the equipment. Just because these phones are dead doesn't mean the equipment doesn't work. If we can get through that wall, maybe we can manage to make a call out of here.”

“It's worth a shot,” Frank said. “Anybody got something I can use to break a hole in that wall?”