Too Many Traitors

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "I've been thinking about this mole in the KGB," Joe said, glancing out at the rocky hillside as they rushed past. "Suppose he found out about the exchange? If I were in that guy's shoes, I'd want to stop it."

  Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Frank snapped his fingers. "Sure, that makes sense. He could learn a lot by putting himself close to Martin — maybe in disguise."

  "Exactly, he could disguise himself as a chauffeur," Joe said. "Yeah, why else would that chauffeur pass a note to us and claim it was from Martin—for that matter, what other reason would he have for going around wearing a false beard and nose? He killed Martin, and he probably got the information everybody seems to think we got."

  "Maybe not," Frank said. "This guy didn't take off. He hung around after Martin was dead. Remember the next day? Why would he do that if he had the data? I'm betting our mole doesn't have it yet."

  Joe thought about it. "So we can still catch him."

  "Right." To Elena in the back seat Frank said, "We're going to head back to our hotel. We'd better split up at that point. You're in this thing too deep as it is."

  "Too deep to leave," Elena told him. "The Russians think I betrayed them. If they find me now, they'll — " She shuddered. "No, I'm safer staying with you two."

  "We won't let anything happen to you." Joe glanced in the rear-view mirror. A small red car was speeding along on the empty stretch of road behind them. "Frank? I think we might have company," he warned.

  After looking in the mirror, Frank frowned. "Yeah, I noticed that car before, right after we left the Soviet consulate. Could be nothing, but then again — "

  The red car sped up, zipping suddenly to the left to pass them. Frank glanced at it suspiciously, reaching for one of the pistols.

  But a woman he'd never seen before was driving the red compact. Her eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and long dark hair swirled over her face and fell to meet a high collar that covered her neck.

  She smiled warmly at Frank, and she raised a cigarette holder with a long cigarette in it to her lips.

  Frank relaxed. "Nothing to worry about," he decided.

  A thick swirl of smoke spat from the tip of the cigarette and shot across the space between the two cars. The smoke hit Frank in the face.

  He coughed, suddenly let go of the wheel, and clutched at his throat with both hands.

  The red car was already past them, speeding away.

  For an instant Joe stared at his choking brother. "Frank, what's wrong?"

  Frank tried to catch his breath but couldn't. "Smoke," he gasped. "Poison — " He fell against the steering wheel of the speeding car. "Woman — KGB — poisoned me — "

  From the backseat Elena pointed and screamed.

  Joe glanced up through the front windshield and grabbed for the steering wheel.

  The road ahead took a sharp curve around a cliff. Far below the road was a stretch of bright blue sea. If Joe didn't get control, they'd be off the road and in the air.

  Desperately, Joe tried to steer the careening Audi.

  The car swerved wildly across the road. Its motion threw the unconscious Frank against his brother.

  Joe lost his grip on the wheel.

  Right in front of them now was a low wooden rail. The car was rushing straight at it.

  The rail was all that stood between them and the long drop to the rocky beach.

  Chapter 9

  JOE SHOVED AGAINST his brother's unconscious body and got one hand on the steering wheel.

  He gave it a sharp twist and with his other hand yanked at the emergency brake.

  The Audi rattled, shuddered, and scraped against the wooden railing. Then it groaned and jerked to a stop, just inches from the edge.

  Joe jumped out and glanced down the road as he hurried around the front of the car. "There's a truck blocking the road down there — holding up that red car. We can still catch her."

  He ran to the driver's side, opened the door, and tugged Frank out from behind the wheel.

  "I'm going to put him in the back, Elena. You drive," he told her.

  A moment later they were off.

  The road ahead was clear again, and the red car was growing ever smaller in the distance.

  Elena slammed the gas pedal to the floor. "We should take him to the hospital," she suggested. "He may be dying."

  "I'm sure he is," Joe said in a low voice. "But if he was right about that woman being a KGB assassin, a hospital won't help him. By the time they find what poisoned him, he'll be dead. No, our only hope is to catch up to the assassin."

  They were reaching more heavily traveled roads now. The red car moved slower, but even so, the distance between it and the Audi kept growing.

  "She is losing us," Elena cried. "How can she help your brother?"

  "When KGB assassins use poison, they always carry an antidote, in case they should accidentally poison themselves," Joe replied grimly. "She's got it, and it's the only thing that will save Frank."

  The street widened into a boulevard, with a grassy strip between the two sides of the road. The red car was still in view, far ahead. "You are a spy!" Elena said to Joe. "How else could you know so much about the KGB?"

  Joe chuckled in spite of himself. "We're not spies, Elena, just ordinary Americans. There are plenty of books published about the KGB and how they operate. I've read one or two of them."

  His smile faded as the red car vanished from sight, and he looked at his brother.

  Frank was still breathing, but in a shallow, uneven way. His skin was tinged with blue. "He's suffocating." Joe's fists clenched as he looked for the red car. But it was gone. "We've failed." "Not yet!" Elena said, determined. She spun the steering wheel left and hit the gas again. The Audi bounced on the low curb and sped onto the boulevard's center strip. The Hardy's car skidded wildly on the grass, its tail swaying back and forth, but Elena gripped the wheel and kept control.

  They sped along the center strip, passing the traffic clogging the road, tearing through shrubs and flower beds. The red car came back into view—still far ahead. Joe bent forward in his seat. "Go," he urged Elena, and she sped even faster. Frank's life was in Elena's hands.

  "Look out!" Joe shouted suddenly. Elena took her eyes off the red car and saw a clump of trees dead ahead, covering the width of the center strip. There was no way through it, and no time to stop. Elena slammed her foot on the brake and froze. Barely slowing, the car hurtled on toward the trees.

  Joe reached over, spinning the steering wheel. The car swerved left, ran off the median, and sped headlong into the oncoming traffic. Cars ran off the road to avoid the Audi, and horns blared as it zipped past them. Elena stared straight ahead, her hands still gripping the wheel.

  "Snap out of it!" Joe barked. "Frank needs you." At the sound of his voice Elena shook as if waking from a dream. With a gasp she slammed the brake and turned the wheel, and, tires screaming, the Audi pulled back onto the median, on the other side of the trees.

  "The red car," she said, pointing to a compact on the right side of the median. Joe saw the dark-haired woman in it and smiled without humor.

  "She's slowed down," he said. "She must think she lost us. Is she in for a surprise!"

  The Audi jumped off the median and swung into traffic, sideswiping the red car. The woman looked up, startled, her face still obscured by sunglasses and wisps of black hair. But her lips tightened in anger as she saw Joe's face, and she aimed the cigarette holder toward him.

  "Hit her again," Joe ordered, and Elena rammed the Audi into the red car a second time. The cigarette holder tumbled from the woman's fingers in the impact. It hung in midair for a second as she desperately grabbed for it. She missed. The holder fell out the car window and shattered on the ground, spewing glass pellets which broke and gave off wisps of poisoned smoke. In trying to catch the holder, the woman let go of her steering wheel.

  The little red car screamed across the lanes and smashed into a storefront, scattering fruit and vegetables all over the str
eet. As the Audi pulled to a stop behind it, Joe looked at Elena admiringly. "Where'd you learn to drive like that?" he asked.

  "American television," she replied. Then her eyes widened as the woman scrambled from the red car. "She's getting away!" Elena shouted.

  "Not if I can help it," Joe replied. "Stay here with Frank." He leapt from the Audi and ran after the woman, who sprinted down the line of stores.

  Joe closed in. The woman turned into the nearest alley and vanished from sight for a moment, but Joe wasn't worried. He knew she couldn't outrun him. He rounded the corner—and stopped.

  The woman was gone.

  It's not possible, he thought. The alley ended at a brick wall, and there was no way over it. Cautiously, Joe tried the doors on the alley. None opened. The woman couldn't have escaped.

  Finally, he tried a pair of old wooden doors set into the ground. They swung up to reveal wooden steps and a dark basement below. He listened. From deep in the darkness came a muffled panting.

  The woman was there.

  He slowly moved down into the pitch-black of the basement. There was no sound now. Two steps, and no sign of the woman. Three steps.

  Strong hands grabbed his ankle, tugged, and Joe pitched down the last stairs. He rolled, landing faceup, and in the dim light he caught the faint gleam of a small revolver aimed at him.

  "You will not live to blackmail me," came a gritted whisper from the dark. "You, your brother, Martin—you should never have played games with me." A finger tightened on the trigger.

  Joe kicked fiercely and knocked the gun into the air as the shot rang out. He did a backward flip and landed on his feet as the woman started up the steps. Without thinking, Joe lunged at her, grabbing at her purse and her hair. Both tore loose in his grip, and he fell back down the stairs, landing on the basement floor with a thud. The woman vanished into the alley.

  Seconds later Joe emerged into the light. He started back to the Audi.

  "Quick," Elena said as she saw him. She held Frank, whose breathing had all but stopped. "You got the antidote from the woman?"

  Joe opened the purse, rifled through it, and brought out a small clear bottle with Russian lettering on it. "This had better be it," he said, and handed it to Elena, who opened it and forced the contents through Frank's lips.

  Frank sputtered and convulsed as the liquid flowed into his mouth. With a great spasm he went limp in Elena's arms.

  "He's not breathing," Elena said, terrified. "I think he's dead!"

  "Am — not," Frank mumbled, and opened his eyes. "What happened?"

  "Oh, nothing," Joe said, relieved. "You just got poisoned by a KGB agent."

  "Joe caught her," Elena said excitedly.

  Joe flushed and shook his head. "No, I didn't," he admitted. "And it wasn't a her."

  "What?" Frank and Elena said at the same time.

  Joe held up the wig. "A disguise. When she spoke, she had a man's voice—also disguised— and she wore men's shoes. I got a pretty good look at them. It was a man disguised as a woman."

  "The chauffeur was a disguise too," Frank said. He sat up weakly in the car. "Probably the same person. And that assassination attempt means he's probably a member of Department V."

  "Or was," Joe said. "It could have been Vladimir."

  "We must go somewhere so you can rest," Elena told Frank. "Your hotel?"

  Frank shook his head weakly. "The police might be waiting for us there. Any way we can get out of town without running into cops?"

  "Certainly," Elena said. "We can follow the dirt roads along the hills and go south along the Costa del Sol. There is a resort village called Marbella not too far away."

  "Anywhere we won't get chased or shot at is okay with me," Joe replied. Elena started the car, and they wound through the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. They could see the highway that hugged the coastline but were far removed from it. The hillsides were dotted with small pastel-colored houses.

  "I cannot believe Vladimir is an assassin," Elena said after some time.

  "So why'd you save us from him at the consulate?" Joe asked.

  "It was that man, Konstantin," Elena said. "Electricity." She swallowed in disgust. "He would have killed you."

  "I don't think so," Frank replied. He thumbed through the one file he had taken from Vladimir's office. "Konstantin just wanted to scare us."

  "That doesn't make him a nice guy though," Joe said.

  Frank pulled a map of the Spanish coast out of the file. On it, the town of Torremolinos was circled in red. He held up the map so Elena could see it. "Does this mean anything?"

  "Vladimir's villa is there," Elena replied, glancing at the map. "I went there once."

  "Hmmm," Frank said, setting down the map and picking up another piece of paper. "Here's a memo from some KGB agent accusing Vladimir of anti-Soviet activities. He probably intercepted before it got to his superiors."

  "Maybe they did get the message. That could be why he's stuck in Spain," Joe said, chuckling.

  Then he stopped laughing, his eyes opening wide. Joe looked at Frank. He had the same expression on his face.

  "Vladimir's the mole!" they said at the same time.

  Frank settled back in his seat. "That would explain why the KGB sent Konstantin in to look after things. They suspect Vladimir." He made a fist and chewed on his knuckle as he thought. "Elena, who brought you in to contact us?"

  "Vladimir," Elena said.

  "And who were you supposed to give the information to?"

  "Vladimir," Elena replied.

  "Where was he the morning of the contact?" Frank continued.

  "I don't know," she said uncertainly.

  "Yeah, he could have been the chauffeur," Joe said. "What's that noise?"

  Frank heard it too, a soft whirring growing louder each second. He stared out the window at the sky.

  "Helicopter!" Frank shouted over the noise. "No markings. It's not the police."

  Something flashed from the side of the helicopter and screamed toward them.

  The ground erupted in smoke and thunder, throwing Frank out the window as the car swayed on two wheels. It crashed back to the ground as the helicopter fired another missile.

  An explosion in front of the Audi brought it to a halt and spattered it with dirt. The car half vanished in the gathering smoke.

  As Frank watched helplessly from the roadside, a third missile screamed down. Shock waves hurled him back as the car went up in a ball of fire.

  "Joe!" Frank called as he picked himself up off the ground. "Joe!"

  No sound came from the Audi except a steady crackling, and no movement but the dancing of the flames.

  Chapter 10

  "JOE!" FRANK CRIED out again. He tried to reach the burning car, but the heat and smoke forced him back.

  I've got to keep yelling so Joe and Elena can find their way out of the flames, Frank told himself. Joe has survived worse than this. I can't give up. I can't. But even as he shouted, Frank wondered how long he could keep convincing himself.

  The beating of the rotors drowned out his voice as the helicopter landed on the road a few yards from the wreck. The pilot got out, holding a rifle. Out from the other side stepped an agent Frank recognized. The agent flashed Frank an unpleasant smile, and Frank could feel his grief burn away into anger.

  "Your foolishness cost your brother his life," the pilot said. "Do not resist, or the same will happen to you." He cradled the rifle in the crook of his arm, leveling it at Frank.

  Frank clenched his fists. Just stay cool, he told himself. They had killed Joe, and they had to pay for it. Hot anger wasn't going to help him. He had to cool down. He had to stay alive and make them pay.

  The Russians walked toward him, and Frank backed away from them. "Stop," ordered the pilot, his finger pulling back on the trigger.

  "Go ahead," Frank said, surprised by the coldness in his own voice. "Shoot. You'd like that. Vladimir would like that. Then he'd never get the information he wants, would he?
It'd be out there, waiting for someone else to find it. I can just imagine what he'd do to the men who kept him from getting it."

  The smile faded from the agent's lips. He shot a worried glance at the pilot, who seemed unconcerned. Frank turned away from them and began walking, but as he took his fifth step, the pilot fired. The shot sprayed up a jet of dirt just inches in front of Frank's feet. He stopped.

  "But Konstantin will not mind," the pilot said, laughing. "Hands up, please." Frank raised his hands. "Come here."

  Frank marched toward them. His bluff had failed, he realized, and if he tried to run from the rifle, it would cut him down. He stared bitterly at the burning car as he headed back.

  All of a sudden Frank stopped, startled. "Come," the pilot repeated, and Frank began walking again, his face toward the ground to keep them from realizing wiurt he had seen.

  In the smoke something had moved, then vanished behind the helicopter.

  With the rifle the pilot nudged Frank toward the helicopter. He circled in front of Frank to lead the way, backing up to keep Frank covered. The silent agent followed on Frank's heels, ready to block any escape attempt. At last the pilot backed through the helicopter door, signaling Frank to follow.

  But something moved behind the pilot, inside the helicopter. Joe! His face was streaked with smoke, and he looked grim as he slammed into the pilot's back, knocking him out of the helicopter. Frank grabbed the rifle with both hands, rolled into a backward somersault, and, kicking upward, threw the surprised pilot over his head and into the silent agent.

  They tumbled to the ground, and then Frank and Joe were on them. When Frank and Joe stood, the pilot and the agent were unconscious.

  "Am I glad to see you!" Frank said, giving his brother a hug. "How?"

  "Luck, mostly," Joe replied. "When you got knocked out of the car, I guessed what was coming next, so I grabbed Elena and pulled her out the other side." He whistled. From behind a bush Elena appeared. "I'm not sure what happened next. An explosion, I guess, and when I woke up, I saw those jerks hauling you off. So I stuck around to the other side of the chopper and got in to surprise them."