The Shore Road Mystery (13 page)

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

BOOK: The Shore Road Mystery
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“You fellows been cooking up something?”
Joe grinned. “Chet, have you ever heard of the wooden horse?”
“Sure. Wasn't that the roadblock the people of Troy used to keep out the attacking Greeks?”
“Not exactly.” Frank laughed. “It was a huge gift from the Greeks to the Trojans. But they had really packed the horse with soldiers. When the Trojans accepted the gift, the Greeks were able to get inside the city walls and defeat them.”
“What of it?” Chet shrugged.
“We have a similar plan.” Frank clarified his remark. “We've decided that if everything else fails, there's one way we might blow this case wide open. That's to buy a car and allow it to be stolen!”
“Buy a car!” Chet exclaimed.
“Yes. Joe and I have enough money to buy a secondhand sedan at Harpertown, where we're unknown. If it's flashy enough, Slagel's gang may steal it out on Shore Road—and us too. Our car will have a large trunk and we'll be in it!”
Chet shook his head. “And I suppose you'll ask me to drive it.”
The Hardys grinned but did not answer. Instead, they said they wanted Chet to help them that evening. They would use Mr. Hardy's car.
By nine o'clock the car was parked between two automobiles a block away from the junkyard.
Presently Slagel arrived and great activity became evident around the lighted lot. Kitcher moved about, making notes on a clipboard as men carried metal junk inside the building. Melliman was nowhere in sight.
“I guess he works behind the scenes and is the brains of this whole operation,” Frank whispered.
Soon several tow trucks bearing Kitcher's name rolled out of the warehouse and headed downhill toward the docks. Tied behind each of them were five battered cars.
“They couldn't be stolen,” Chet said. “Nobody would buy them.”
As the warehouse doors closed, the boys decided to follow the shipment and Frank drove off.
Reaching the docks, he parked near a row of steel drums, behind which the boys stationed themselves.
The lights of a barge glittered in the waters of Barmet Bay. The name
Arachne
was painted on its side in white letters. The dilapidated cars were being unhitched from the tow trucks and rolled toward the barge.
In an hour all the junk cars had been loaded onto the barge. Several loads of rusted wire and sheet metal followed. Slagel and Kitcher returned to their car. A whistle sounded over the churning water, then slowly the
Arachne
backed into the dark bay toward the south.
“Come on. Let's take the
Sleuth!”
Frank motioned.
The boys reached the Hardy boathouse in record time. A minute later the
Sleuth's
motor roared to life. A night wind fluttered at their backs as they reached the mouth of Barmet Bay. Joe peered through field glasses.
“There it is!” he cried out.
The lights of the
Arachne
moved slowly down the coast. Her bow and stern lamps off, the Sleuth increased speed. When Frank had swung farther out to sea he headed parallel to the coast. Abreast of the barge, he throttled down to six knots.
“We can't do this foreverl” Chet protested. “They'll catch on!”
Frank slipped off his shoes. “I'm getting a closer look at what and who's on that barge.”
“You're crazy!” Joe protested. “You wouldn't have a chance against all of them!”
“I'll be careful. Keep the Sleuth on course and give me about twenty minutes.”
Before Joe could say more, Frank was overboard and swimming toward the ghostly lights. He was midway between the two crafts when Joe saw the black fishing boat. Joe stiffened with fear as he deciphered the international code message which was being flashed by lights from the fishing boat to the barge.
“O-n-e o-f H-a-r-d-y k-i-d-s s-w-i-m-m-i-n-g t-o-w-a-r-d y-o-u. S-t-o-p h-i-m.”
Joe jumped into the water instantly and swam toward his brother. Frank, fighting strong currents, had not noticed the warning. Minutes later, he reached the barge and caught his breath. Then, grasping the damp wood with his wet hands, he pulled himself up and slid noiselessly over the side next to a braced car.
Suddenly someone struck him a hard blow on the head. His next sensation was of falling to the water. Frank blacked out before he reached it, but revived as he felt two arms grab him and take him to the surface.
Desperately, Joe bore his brother througli the waves to the darkened
Sleuth
as the noise of the barge motors became fainter and fainter.
Joe was almost at the end of his strength when he touched the hull of the
Sleuth.
Chet leaned over and hauled Frank, semiconscious, aboard. The next instant, Joe heard Chet cry out and saw him topple backward out of sight.
Grabbing the rail, Joe swung into the stern of the boat. To his horror, Chet lay motionless beside Frank. Joe whirled to face the attacker—a muscular, black figure in a glistening skin-diving suit.
The man raised a sharp, dripping piton and lunged at Joel
CHAPTER XVI
Retreat Trick
BLOCKING the thrust of the spike, Joe threw all his remaining strength into a hard-fisted uppercut. The blow sent the diver reeling against the fan-tail of the
Sleuth.
Staggering, the black figure noticed Chet beginning to revive. In a flash he dived overboard and disappeared.
Joe hurried over to Frank, who by now was sitting up groggily. “Thank goodness you're all right,” he said. “Chet, you okay?”
Chet winced and rubbed his jaw, but smiled gamely. “You Hardys are the ones I'm worried about!”
“You can't keep us down!” Joe said with a grin as he helped Frank to his feet.
“Thanks for saving my wet skin,” Frank said.
Shivering, Joe crouched out of the wind and started the engine. He pointed to starboard. “Look!”
Fifty yards away the fishing boat idled in the waves, its lights extinguished. Through the darkness, the boy could see its pilot pulling another figure aboard. Then the boat sped in the direction of Bayport.
“Let's go!” Frank said.
The
Sleuth
followed. It was just closing the gap near the mouth of Barmet Bay when the motor began sputtering. The gas gauge read empty. In disgust the boys watched the black boat vanish down the coast.
“How are we going to make the boathouse?” Chet asked nervously.
Frank pointed to the emergency oars. “The tide's coming in, so that'll help us row.”
Joe was angry about the fishing boat and its occupants getting away. Frank consoled him. “At least we've learned the owner of that boat is in on this racket. Also, I'm sure we had our first meeting with the spider-man!”
“Who?” chorused Joe and Chet.
“The skin diver—he's powerful enough to scale cliffs. And that pike he had is used for mountain climbing.”
Chet shuddered. “Or a weapon.”
“He's the one who trapped Callie in the net,” Joe added.
Frank expressed disappointment at his failure to get a look aboard the barge or at the man who had knocked him into the water. “We'll have to tackle the problem from another angle.”
“Not tonight!” Chet begged. “We've had enough.”
The Hardys agreed and the boys rowed wearily to the boathouse.
First thing the next morning Frank checked with police headquarters. There were no leads to any of the missing Dodds. The brothers were discussing what move they should make next, when the telephone rang. It was Tony Prito. He excitedly asked the boys to come to the
Napoli's
boathouse at once. “It's important!”
When they met him, Joe asked, “What's up?”
“Can't tell you yet.” Their friend, wearing swimming trunks, hurried them aboard his motorboat and steered north out of Barmet Bay. He slowed down just past Bay Bluff.
“I think I saw something out here yesterday, and if it's what I suspect—”
Tony headed toward the shoreline, studying the water closely. Suddenly he cut the motor and leaned over the side. The Hardys followed his pointing finger.
“Down there!”
Beneath the gray surface of the water, a slight glimmer of light was visible. Straining their eyes, Frank and Joe could make out part of a green-and- white object. Their hearts jumped.
“Jack's boat!” Frank exclaimed. “Do you think—” He did not voice the dreadful thought that crossed each boy's mind.
Tony said tersely. “We won't know until one of us goes down there. I'll go!”
Tensely Frank and Joe watched Tony's lithe body cut the water and his distorted image vanish into the depths. They waited in grim silence.
When Tony's head broke the surface, the look on his face brought vast relief to the Hardys. “It's the Dodds' boat all right, but nobody's in it.” He climbed aboard the
Napoli,
“Do you think their kidnappers scuttled it?”
“Probably,” Frank guessed, “they wanted the boat out of the way so that the police would think the Dodds had escaped in it. We'd better report this right away.”
Tony drove back to Bayport and the brothers went home. They had just entered the kitchen door when the telephone rang. Joe answered it.
“Joe Hardy speaking.”
The voice at the other end said crisply:
“Kid,
you and your brother have meddled enough. If you ever want to see your friends alive again, get out of town and stay out for five days—it might be good for your mother's and aunt's health too. This is your last warning! And be sure to take a look out your front window before leaving.”
When Joe heard the receiver click, he hung up and told Frank of the threat. “It was Slagel, I'm sure.”
The brothers ran to the front windows.
Between two trees along their quiet street, a black sedan was parked. Two strangers sat silently in the front seat watching the Hardy house.
Joe was upset. “We can't just obey Slagel—but we can't ignore a threat to Mother and Aunt Gertrude, either. What choice have we? Maybe we should call the police.”
Frank thought a minute, then his eyes lighted up. “Not yet, Joe. Let's try our wooden-horse operation!”
The boys suddenly realized how well their secret plan would work during the present predicament. Joe led the way upstairs. “Of course! If we leave now for Harpertown, we could buy the car while we're ‘vacationing.' And then—” he grinned—“gallop into Troy!”
The boys brought down suitcases from the attic and packed them hastily. While Frank changed into Bermuda shorts and a light jacket, Joe opened a closet and brought out a fishing rod, surfboard, and an air mattress. “We may as well make it look good.”
Frank was sober. “We'll have to let Mother and Aunt Gertrude know why we're leaving, but I hate to worry them.”
“We'll have to tell them for their own safety. Besides, it's the best reason we've had for a vacation in a long while!”
Twenty minutes later, their bags and gear at the foot of the stairs, the brothers went into the kitchen and told the two women of the threat. “But we'll be able to return to Bayport in less than a week,” Joe added.
“We'll phone you as often as we can,” Frank assured them. “It will be the only way for us to know you're both safe.”
Mrs. Hardy's pretty face showed worry, but she forced a smile and kissed them. “Frank—Joe—take care of yourselves. You promise you'll be able to return in a few days?”
“We may be home sooner than you think.” Joe chuckled.
Aunt Gertrude's face wore an expression of militance. Removing her apron, she took a large frying pan off a hook.
“Just where are these two men watching our house?” she asked, brandishing her weapon. “Who do they think they are, threatening my nephews!”
It took Laura Hardy's help to restrain their courageous relative from marching outside. Finally she replaced the frying pan.
“Aunty,” said Frank, “this isn't really a Hardy retreat. It's sort of a strategic withdrawal.”
The boys made two quick telephone calls, one to Chet, and the other to telegraph their father. Then they took some cash which they kept in the house safe. Picking up a suitcase, Frank turned to Miss Hardy. “Aunty, you and Mother can help by showing a lot of emotion out at the car. We want to impress those men.”
The two women did their part. When the boys had loaded all their luggage and vacation equipment into their father's car, Mrs. Hardy embraced them fervently. Aunt Gertrude's eyes were red as from weeping. In each hand she held a concealed onion. From their car, the two men watched the well-staged scene.
Amidst much waving Frank and Joe pulled down the driveway and drove up the street. The black sedan moved out and followed.
When the boys reached the highway beyond the city limits, Joe glanced back at the car following. “Next stop Harpertown,” he said. “Then the wooden horse!”
CHAPTER XVII
The Wooden Horse
FRANK kept the car at a leisurely speed. In the rear-view mirror he and Joe could see the black sedan fifty yards behind them.
“If we go any faster,” said Frank, “those men will think we're trying to shake them. I want them to keep thinking we're just going on a vacation.”
Using Route 10 and then the State Highway, the Hardys rolled along toward their destination. They had ten miles to go when Joe murmured, “They're still trailing us.”
In Harpertown the Hardys headed for the beach resort area. Soon they drew up before a large seaside motel.
Frank took several bills out of his wallet and handed them to Joe. “We'd better pay for a week to make it look good.”

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