Galaxy X

by Franklin W. Dixon

We passed a cool-looking pipeline-style roller coaster called the Cobra and a mini-motorcycle park before Erica finally stopped at the entrance to another roller coaster, this one a more traditional design. The sign proclaimed its name to be Old Glory. It had sort of a patriotic military theme, with army uniforms and waving American flags everywhere.

  “The big hill on this coaster is the highest spot in this quadrant of the park,” Erica explained as she ducked under the chain stretched across the entrance. “From up there, we can see right out over the main gate.”

  “You mean we’re going to climb up the tracks?” I asked dubiously.

  She laughed. “You can hike it if you want. But I’m taking the easy way up!”

  She hurried across the entryway to one of the red, white, and blue trains waiting at the edge of the platform. She hopped into the rearmost seat, then reached into her jeans pocket.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as she produced a folding screwdriver.

  “You’ll see.” She used the screwdriver to open a nearly invisible panel at the back of the car. Inside were a bunch of wires. “Come on, get in,” she urged Frank and me.

  We exchanged a shrug. “After you,” I said.

  Frank hopped into the seat ahead of Erica. I joined him, then twisted around to watch her. Her fingers flew among the complex twist of wires.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

  “Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times,” she recited, perfectly mimicking one of those lame announcements from every amusement park ride. Then she grinned and touched one wire to another.

  With a sudden hum of power, the cars jerked into motion. We rumbled forward along the track, passing beneath the giant Stars and Stripes hanging down over the opening at the far end. Then we emerged into the open air and started climbing.

  “Hang on,” Erica said. “I hope you don’t mind, but we have to take a few of the hills and loops before we get to the right spot.”

  I grinned. “We don’t mind at all.”

  The coaster was great. Erica even made it go faster than it was supposed to around some of the hairpin turns.

  “Don’t worry, this thing is safety tested to twice its top speed,” she shouted over the wind as we coasted up yet another hill, this one the tallest yet. “My father’s just too big a wimp to push it to the limit.”

  I was sure McKenzie would freak out if he heard his stepdaughter say that. He didn’t seem like the type of dude who’d appreciate being called a wimp.

  Then we reached the top of the big hill and I forgot about that. Erica brought the car to a halt, leaving us poised up there with a great view of the entire park—and the flat, sandy landscape outside the high stone walls.

  She leaned forward between us. “That’s them,” she said, pointing to a small group of people marching around in circles just outside the main gate.

  There were maybe a dozen protesters. Several of them were waving signs, though I couldn’t read them from that distance and angle.

  “So what’s their beef with this place?” I asked.

  “They think it’s ruining the atmosphere of the local islands, and also the environment,” Frank spoke up before Erica could answer. Good old Mr. Research strikes again! “There are actually a couple of different groups involved in the protest, local and otherwise.”

  “That’s right,” Erica agreed. “It’s pretty much the same bunch out there every day, though. My father thinks they’d do anything to shut him down, and frankly, I’m not so sure he’s wrong.”

  “Can you take us out there?” asked Frank. “I think we’d better talk to them.”

  She paused. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “They make me kind of nervous.”

  I glanced at her in surprise. She didn’t seem like the type of girl to be scared off by a bunch of sign-waving malcontents. “Come on,” I said with a grin. “It’s okay—you’ll be protected by the power of ATAC, remember?”

  She laughed. “Well . . . okay, when you put it that way, I guess I could take you out there.” A wicked glint came into her eyes. “But first we’ve got to get back down. So hold on!”

  “Wheeeeee!” I yelled as she sent the roller coaster plunging down the huge hill. What a rush!

  Soon the three of us were letting ourselves out through the security entrance beside the huge main gates, which were shut and locked. Now I could see that the protesters were mostly middle-aged people, plus two or three young hippie types. Their signs were about what you’d expect: LEAVE OUR ISLAND ALONE, the GX logo with a big X over it, stuff like that.

  “Come on,” Frank said. “Let’s each try to talk to as many of these people as we—”

  “Aiiii!” Erica shrieked, cutting him off. Her hand flew to her left ear. “Something just hit me in the head!”

  Food for Thought

  “Are you okay?” Joe leaped to Erica’s side.

  I looked around. Most of the protesters were looking our way—no wonder, after Erica’s piercing scream. The girl had some lungs, that was for sure.

  “Did someone just throw something?” I called out.

  “Not me, dude,” a tall, scraggly young guy with a beard called out. “This is a peaceful protest, you dig it?”

  Nearby, an elderly man with a cane shook his fist. “We’re not the troublemakers here!” he cried in a thin, wavery voice. “It’s that McKenzie scoundrel!”

  Okay, it didn’t look like anyone was going to confess. I glanced around and saw a bunch of rocks lying on the sandy ground nearby. “Which one hit you?” I asked Erica. “Did you see?”

  She glanced down and shrugged. “It all happened so fast. . . .”

  “Never mind,” said Joe. “It’s not like we can fingerprint a rock anyway.”

  Erica sniffled and nodded. “I’m going back in now,” she said, casting a suspicious look at the protesters. “I’ll leave the security door open—just make sure none of these people go in.”

  “We’re on it,” Joe assured her.

  I returned my attention to the protesters as Erica disappeared back into the park. “Listen,” I said to the group. “I know most of you guys are trying to be peaceful. But if one of you got carried away and threw that rock . . .”

  “We told you, man. This isn’t that kind of gig.” This time it was a hippie chick who spoke up. She was standing by the hippie dude and holding a sign that said SEA TURTLES ARE PEOPLE TOO. “We just want to, like, express our feelings about this monstrosity, this blight on the environment.” She waved a hand at the gleaming walls towering above us.

  “That’s right,” said another woman, this one probably forty years old, with frizzy dark hair. “Someone has to stand up for what’s right.”

  They kept going, lecturing us on the plight of the local native species and stuff. The protesters were about evenly split. Half were locals who resented this huge change in their quiet island lifestyle. The rest were environmentalists, mostly from elsewhere, who were concerned about the effect on the ecosystem, the energy drain, the added danger from hurricanes, and more. I had some sympathy for their cause, but listening to them wasn’t helping our mission much.

  I exchanged a look with Joe. McKenzie thought these people were behind his problems. And it did seem possible they were behind the graffiti and that one of them had just tossed something at Erica. But how could any of them have sneaked inside and messed with the ice machines or tampered with that UTV? Was this a real lead or just a sideshow?

  “So what do you think?” Joe asked as we headed back inside a few minutes later, pulling the security door shut behind us and nodding to the guard on duty. “Think any of those people could be the one we’re after?”

  I shrugged. “They did seem pretty worked up. But with GX’s tight security . . .”

  Just then my cell phone rang. It was Tyrone McKenzie. “Find anything yet?” he asked in his abrupt way.

  “We’re working on a few leads, sir,” I replied. “Nothing concrete yet.”


  “All right.” He sounded disappointed. I guess he’d expected us to magically solve the case in the hour and a half or so since we’d last seen him. No surprise there—“patient” wouldn’t be the first word to spring to mind to describe him. Or the forty-seventh word, either.

  “But it would be helpful if we could sit down and speak with you about the case,” I said. “We have a few questions.”

  “Deal,” McKenzie said right away. “Actually, I was about to invite you two to come to my family quarters for dinner tonight. Six o’clock.”

  It sounded more like an order than an invitation, but I wasn’t complaining. Maybe we’d finally be able to talk to McKenzie for more than three seconds at a time.

  “Six it is,” I said. “We’ll see you then.”

  I hung up and filled Joe in. “It’s five thirty already,” he pointed out. “That just gives us time to find our own quarters and wash up.”

  He had a point. An employee had whisked our bags away as soon as we’d disembarked from the chopper earlier. And we were looking pretty grungy after wandering around all afternoon in the hot sun—not to mention jumping out of a speeding UTV.

  We walked back to the office building. The same security guard, Wallace, was on duty at the door.

  “I think you guys are staying in one of the guest cottages over behind the staff quarters,” he said, pointing the way. “Want to borrow one of the UTVs to get there?”

  I shuddered. “No, thanks,” I said, guessing he hadn’t heard about our accident. “We’ll walk.”

  The guest cottage wasn’t far, and our bags were waiting for us right inside. The theme of the park extended even here, and I practically had to drag Joe away from the state-of-the-art video game console hooked up to a huge flat-screen TV. But by five of six, we were cleaned up and hurrying down a winding path toward McKenzie’s house.

  “I hope McKenzie turns off his cell phone long enough for us to get some info out of him,” Joe said as we came within sight of the house, an angular contemporary with huge expanses of glass overlooking the back of one of the park’s enormous wave pools.

  “I hear you.” I squinted up at the house. The windows reflected the setting sun back at me like a giant set of mirrored sunglasses. “Because so far we don’t have a whole lot to go on.”

  “Right,” Joe agreed. “And the way McKenzie’s been rushing off every time we see him, I’m starting to think he should be a suspect!”

  I knew he was kidding, but I nodded thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, what if McKenzie’s having financial trouble or something? Erica said he wanted to make his dreams come true here no matter what. And his business partner seems kind of unhappy, plus McKenzie took a call from his insurance guy earlier. . . .”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “You think he could be in the hole and trying to find an easy way out?”

  “Who knows?” I shrugged. “Seems as decent a motive as any, if there’s any truth to it.”

  Joe was silent for a second, mulling it over. “I don’t know,” he said. “If McKenzie were really behind this, why would he call in ATAC to investigate? I still think that Smith dude is a more likely suspect. He practically shoved us into that messed-up UTV.”

  “Yeah, he’s definitely still on the list,” I agreed as we headed up the shell-lined front walk. “Along with whoever’s writing all those nasty blogs and stuff online.”

  We had to clam up about the mission then. A butler-type guy had just opened the door of the house. “Frank and Joe Hardy?” he said. “Please come in. Mr. McKenzie is expecting you.”

  Soon he was showing us into a swanky dining room with two floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The entire family was already seated.

  “Come on in, fellows,” McKenzie boomed from his seat at the head of the table. “Saved you a couple of seats here by me.”

  He gestured to the two seats directly to his right. Joe started toward the first one, but McKenzie half stood and grabbed my arm, pulling me that way instead.

  “Why don’t you sit right here, son?” he told me, yanking my arm so vigorously that I ended up accidentally stomping on Joe’s foot.

  “Sorry, bro,” I said, reaching for the seat.

  Joe smirked. “No problem, son.”

  Okay, I admit it. It was a little weird that McKenzie had taken such a shine to me. I guess it was because I’d stood up to him earlier. I had a feeling not many people did that.

  He spent most of the meal grilling me about my past ATAC exploits. That was a little uncomfortable. Partly because we’re not supposed to talk about our missions—current or past—with anyone outside the group. Also because McKenzie’s son Nick kept staring at me from his seat across from Joe. No, not just staring—glowering. He barely ate a thing.

  Joe kept staring too. But I could tell he was trying to keep from laughing. Nice. A decent brother might have jumped in, maybe tried to distract McKenzie from turning things into the Frank Show. But Joe just smirked away the whole time and chatted with Delfina and Erica.

  I tried a few times to change the subject to our investigation. “So we met some of the picketers a little while ago,” I told McKenzie. “They seem pretty angry about this whole theme park.”

  He grunted. “Those losers?” he said dismissively. “I don’t know what they’re complaining about. They should thank me for bringing some actual business and culture to this tiny backwater of theirs.”

  I could give him the business part, though I wasn’t too sure Galaxy X really counted as “culture.” “I understand,” I said. “But if they’re determined to drive you out of business at any cost—”

  “They don’t have the guts,” McKenzie broke in with a wave of his hand. “The more I think about it, the more I think all these mishaps are just bad luck. And a few sour apples from some online troublemakers, of course—but that’s just free publicity for me.” He let out a short, derisive laugh.

  I traded a quick look with Joe. This was certainly a major change of tune from earlier, when McKenzie had been ready to call in the FBI. Could my theory be right? Could he possibly be behind the mischief himself and trying to throw everyone off the track?

  “But listen, Frank.” McKenzie leaned forward, staring at me curiously. “I want to hear more about your teen crime-fighting adventures. Who was the toughest thug you ever brought down on one of your ATAC missions?”

  I sighed. “I’m really not at liberty to talk about specifics,” I repeated for about the fifteenth time. “But in general, we just try to figure out who’s behind any trouble and leave the actual bringing down to the authorities. . . .”

  It was almost a relief when Mr. Smith barged in a few minutes later. “Tyrone,” he barked. “We need to talk.” He shot a glance at the rest of us, who were staring. “Business,” he added succinctly.

  McKenzie blew out a long, irritated sigh. “I suppose it can’t wait until after dessert?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Smith just let out sort of a low growl and spun on his heel. McKenzie dropped his cloth napkin on the table and pushed his chair back. “I’ll be right back,” he said distractedly, then hurried out.

  “Oh, dear,” Delfina murmured. “I do hope there’s nothing wrong. It’s not like Jack to interrupt dinner!”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “Just Dad and his type A buddies freaking out over their balance sheets or whatever.”

  Nick snorted. “Right,” he muttered, still glaring at me.

  It seemed like a good time to focus on my food. There was a quiet moment at the table. In the silence, we could all clearly hear raised voices from the next room.

  Joe and I looked at each other. Straining my ears, I tried to hear what the argument was about. But the men’s words were muffled by the walls. And a moment later came the sound of stomping feet—and then a slamming door.

  Space Race

  “I wish we knew what McKenzie and Smith were arguing about,” Frank said as the two of us hurried along the maze o
f shell-lined paths leading to the main part of the park.

  “You and me both, dude. I can’t believe he never came back to dinner.” I smirked. “Not even to say good night to his favorite new adopted sonny boy.”

  “Enough already,” Frank muttered, his cheeks going red.

  I grinned. He was so easy to mess with!

  Dinner had ended a few minutes earlier, and I was glad. Not that the food wasn’t great—it was. And sitting next to Erica wasn’t so shabby either. The more I talked with that girl, the more I liked her. She wasn’t just cute. She was supersharp, too.

  Still, we weren’t getting anything done sitting around eating sirloin tips and sipping iced tea. So Frank and I had excused ourselves as soon as we could. Now we planned to check out more of Galaxy X. The celebrities were due to start arriving first thing in the morning, and we wanted to make sure we had the lay of the land before then.

  “Good thing it stays light so late this time of year,” I said. “Come on, let’s go this way—I want to check out the arcade.”

  “We don’t have time for video games,” Frank warned.

  “Thanks, Aunt Trudy,” I said. “Are you going to remind me to eat my peas and finish my homework, too?”

  “This is serious,” said Frank. “No matter what McKenzie seems to think, somebody is putting people in danger here. Somebody could have been killed by that malfunctioning UTV.”

  “Right,” I said. “Us.”

  Frank wasn’t finished. “That and the ice trick shows that whoever’s doing this has access. And if those message board posts are any indication, things are only going to get worse tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I shook my head. “It’s hard to believe someone would waste so much effort trying to shut this place down, isn’t it?” My gaze wandered from the alien-themed pendulum ride we were passing to the blinking neon signs over the arcade just ahead. “I mean, GX is awesome!”

  Frank shrugged. “To us, maybe. But you have to admit, those protesters have some legitimate gripes. Sounds like McKenzie bullied through the permits and stuff to get this place built here.”