by Mabel Maney
"I'm afraid there's one problem with that plan," Frank informed her. "We can't call the FBI."
"Why not?" Cherry wanted to know. "Isn't it their job to lend a helping hand to citizens in times such as these? Surely the FBI will want to know if your father has been kidnapped, seeing as he's working for them."
"He's not working for the FBI, Cherry," Frank corrected her. After first extracting a pledge from his chums to never reveal what they were about to learn, Frank blurted out, "He's working for a government agency so secret that no one, not even the FBI, knows it exists, and even the people who work for it don't know what it's called! "
* * *
CHAPTER 23
* * *
Chili con Carne and
Baked Alaska
Frank and Joe exchanged an anxious glance. "We'll have to tell them everything," that glance said, "for if we're going to rescue
Mother and Father we'll need all the help we can get!"
"I'm going to show you something no one outside our nuclear family has ever seen," Frank told his chums. He reached deep into his trouser pocket and took out a small brass key. He crossed the room and unlocked the door to a shallow closet just large enough for a rack of trenchcoats. He pushed aside the clothes and disclosed an electronic panel with blinking red lights. He quickly punched a series of buttons, then stepped back as the wall slid open to reveal a dark, windowless room the size of a walkin wardrobe closet. A tinny-sounding beep-beep-beep emanated from somewhere in the room.
"Nancy has a little room like this off her bedroom," Cherry gasped in recognition. "It's lined with cedar and stuffed with evening gowns and sweaters, ski togs and angora sets, little hats and fancy gloves and the most adorable handbags."
Frank threw on a switch and soft overhead lights blinked on. As the little group walked into the secret room, Cherry gazed about in wonder. It was like Nancy's walk-in wardrobe closet, but it wasn't, for where Nancy had specially built narrow shelves for her hats and shoes, the Hardlys had a map of the world. And where Nancy had a built-in jewelry chest, the Hardlys had a giant ham radio with speakers and microphones and a complicated looking antennae. "Golly," Cherry breathed as she looked at the blinking mechanical contraptions and buzzing gizmos.
"This is the Hardly Family Command Center," Frank told them. "You're the first outsiders to know our secret. Why, even Father's government contact doesn't know this room exists."
"Terrible things could happen if certain people knew of the location of Father's command post. Why, they could plant listening devices in this room and learn all sorts of top-secret things!" Joe blurted out.
Cherry gasped.
"You see, Nurse," Frank cut in. "There's a war going ona war for the minds and hearts of free men everywhere. In the past, Father has helped the government uncover acts of treason and subversion lurking around every corner. But apparently that war has yet to be won."
Cherry shivered. Suddenly the room seemed icy cold. Jackie put her arm around the frightened nurse and held her tight. As Cherry snuggled close to the strong girl, she felt a warm surge racing through her body. It was a surge of pride: pride for the brave citizens engaged in the struggle for truth and justice so all Americans could enjoy the benefits of good schools, fresh air and lots of attractive outfits!
"I won't fail these brave soldiers," Cherry stiffened in determination. She made a vow to nurse as no one had ever nursed before!
"Hello?" they heard Nancy call from the den. "Where did everybody go?"
"We're in the closet," Cherry informed her. Nancy followed her voice, and when she stepped inside the room Cherry could tell, by the stunned look on her face, that she hadn't known of the existence of the Command Center either.
"You certainly kept this a secret all these years," Nancy exclaimed as she plopped down on a straightback wooden chair.
"It was to protect you, Nancy," Frank told her. "And it has to remain a secret," he added hastily.
Nancy laughed bitterly. "Don't worry," she said. "If anyone can keep a secret, I can." The room grew quiet. Nancy seemed unusually distracted and perturbed, Frank thought, although her hair did look nice brushed back like that, and she had shaken almost all of the plaster dust from her outfit.
"Where were we?" Jackie asked, breaking the silence.
"Oh, yes," Frank snapped to attention. "This is our Radar-O-Scope," he said, pointing to a black box, resembling a television set, with its many dials. "It's just like the ones used in submarines, only ours is smaller. Father carries a trans mitter in his pocket when he's out on a case so we can track him anywhere within a radius of one hundred miles. Plus, we have wristwatch tracking devices." Frank switched on the screen. After a few minutes of crackling and humming, it glowed an eerie greenish color.
"Father must not have the transmitter with him," Joe sighed. "Or else an orange blip would appear. Maybe he's called in to the reel-to-reel," he suggested helpfully.
"What's that?" Cherry asked.
"The reel-to-reel is a tape recording device hooked up to the Command Center telephone. A special motor attached to the telephone activates the tape so that incoming messages can be recorded and listened to later." Frank snapped the device into replay mode to see if there were any messages.
"What a marvelous invention," Cherry remarked.
"We have one very much like this at detective headquarters," Jackie said. "You could call and leave me a message any time you like," she murmured to Cherry.
Nancy pouted. All she had was a private line to the pink princess telephone in her bedroom.
The boys jumped when their father's unmistakably calm voice came over the tape loud and clear. "Caramel bread pudding, mushroom spread, chili con carne, steamed cauliflower hearts, wilted lettuce-leaf salad, baked Alaska, deviled crabs."
Cherry looked alarmed. "That's a recipe for dyspepsia!" she was about to cry when Frank suddenly blurted out, in a gleeful tone,
"Father hates those dishes! This must be a secret-coded message! "
"But what does it mean?" the others chorused.
"We'll run it through the Hardly Decoding Machine," Frank declared, leaping into action. He flipped the master switch on a massive machine, the size of a two-door Frigidaire, that stood against one wall of the little room. The contraption came alive as lights flashed, knobs twirled and a mechanical whirring sound filled the little room.
"This artificial brain is set up to recognize, analyze and transcribe over one hundred and thirty-seven known codes of the modern world," Joe explained as Frank typed the list onto a special typewriter that turned the letters into a series of dots and dashes on a paper tape. Next he fed the tape into a slot. "Now we wait," Frank breathed excitedly.
"As one of the most brilliant detectives the world has ever seen, Father knows every code imaginable," Joe pointed out. "Why, he could have used any one of them when devising this secret message. This machine saves us the hours of drudgery we used to spend hunched over the worktable, sweat pouring down our brows as we figured these things by hand."
A bell sounded and a moment later the machine spit out a piece of paper. On it were seven cryptic lines:
in closet under stairs secret map watch your step things are not what they seem underneath Lake Merrimen what goes up must come down
"Is there a closet under the stairs that lead to the second floor in this house?" Jackie wondered.
"No," Nancy answered authoritatively. "There's a lovely built-in credenza under the stairs."
"And we don't have a cellar," Joe mused. "Father does have a detective's office downtown, but it's in a one-story building."
"Maybe it's at one of your father's hangouts," Jackie persisted. "His favorite bar, a gymnasium or the local men's club."
Frank shook his head. "Father doesn't mix much with other fellows," he told her. "When he's not solving a case, he's home with us."
"Where could it be?" the boys wondered.
"The only other place Father ever goes is the cottage, and there's no clo
set there, save a small one in the master bedroom," Frank said.
A funny look came over Uncle Nelly's face. All this talk about closets had jogged his memory. "Those two horrid men who tied us up asked me if we had any closets," he remembered. "Boys, where are those architectural plans we took from them?"
"Right here in my pocket, Uncle," Frank said. He pulled the tube out of his trousers pocket and laid the plans on the table.
Uncle Nelly flicked on a table lamp, took his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and closely examined the blueprint. Soon a wide grin lit up his youthful face. "Aha!" he cried. "I remember now-there was a closet under the stairs at our charming cottage at Lake Merrimen. Your father and I would play games in there on rainy afternoons, and use it for a hiding place when it came time to eat our vegetables," Uncle Nelly remembered, chuckling. "Mother was forever urging us to come out of the closet, so in 1923, when she redecorated the cottage, she had it boarded up."
"So those thugs weren't looking for antiques to steal, they were looking for whatever is in that hidden closet," Jackie concluded, saying what was on all their minds. "But how could those poodlesnatching thugs be connected to the Russian agents who kidnapped your parents?"
* * *
CHAPTER 24
* * *
A Chase
"Sputnik!" Frank spat out, his keen hazel eyes narrowing in anger.
"Gesundheit," Cherry cried as she reached for a fresh hankie.
Trust Cherry to lighten the mood, Jackie thought with a little grin. "Frank, what does the Russian satellite Sputnik have to do with the hidden closet?" Jackie quizzed him.
While the others listened attentively, Frank pieced together the case. "First, prized poodles are kidnapped, then the dognapper and an accomplice try to strong-arm their way inside our cottage, with architectural blueprints showing the location of a secret closet. That same day, Mother and Father are kidnapped by Russians, and Father's code specifically mentions that very same closet that may contain some kind of secret map."
"Something just doesn't make sense, though," Cherry admitted aloud. "Who would want that many poodles?"
Frank's next words were chilling: "One month after the successful launch of Sputnik I, the Russians launched an even bigger and better satellite, only this one had as its passenger a small dog!"
"Are you saying the Russians are stealing our top dogs for use in outer space?" Cherry gasped. "Poodles in space? What kind of people would do such a thing?" she cried in horror.
"The kind of people who would go to any length to get what they wanted," Frank said darkly.
"Could the thugs have been looking for the secret map in the secret closet?" Nancy wondered aloud.
"We'll see soon enough! " Frank cried. Within minutes, they had piled into their vehicles and were speeding toward the Hardly cottage at Lake Merrimen. Nancy shifted into third gear as she made the ascent up the main dirt road leading to the small house; by her side, Frank was mulling over the shocking events of the past hour. Jackie and Joe followed behind at an even clip, grimly rehashing every aspect of the queer case. They barely noticed the picturesque scenery, of the breathtaking lake, so intent were they on getting to the cottage and discovering the meaning of Fennel Hardly's cryptic list.
Frank shivered. This was their most perplexing case yet, and if they didn't solve it-and fast-they would lose the best parents two fellows ever had. "Step on it, Nancy," Frank directed. "Hang the traffic laws, goshdarnit! We've got a mystery to solve; probably the most important of our young careers!"
* * *
CHAPTER 25
* * *
A Lulu of a Revelation
"Stand back, Joe," Willy ordered as he picked up the crowbar and jammed the tool into the wall. Sweat glistened on Willy's thick corded neck as he pressed his broad powerful shoulder against the rod. He rocked back and forth until he had created a deep vertical groove. Willy pulled the heavy bar out of the wall, and with his feet firmly planted on the floor, found another soft spot in which to insert his tool. "Oomph," Willy grunted as he continued.
Joe's jaw dropped in admiration as sweat poured down the wedge of the man's back, causing his snug tee-shirt to cling to his broad torso. Willy stripped to the waist, and barely pausing to wipe his glistening forehead on the damp tee-shirt, he threw the shirt to Joe, catching him squarely in the face. "I'm almost there!" Willy cried.
He thrust his sturdy tool into the pliant wood over and over again. The panel groaned and creaked with each powerful probe, bringing it closer and closer to bursting wide open. "Just a little more," Willy cried. "This one ought to do it." Harder and harder he slammed the bar into the wall, each time coming closer to whatever lay beyond its barrier.
Joe was so excited he could hardly breathe! He clutched the shirt to his chest and watched with bated breath as the muscular man worked. How long could Willy keep it up? Finally there was a shudder and a heave, and the crowbar found its mark. The entire wall, molding, floorboards and all, seemed to explode and fell in splinters around Willy's boots.
"Look, Frank! A door! " Joe cried. Joe gasped as Willy flung open the warped wooden door only to reveal.. .an empty closet!
"There's no secret map in there!" Cherry cried in dismay.
"Not at first glance," Nancy warned. She rushed inside the small musty space and began running her hands over the wall paper looking for lumps or bumps that would indicate something had been hidden behind it.
"Uncle, do you recall any hiding places in here?" Frank asked.
"I'm sure there's nothing special about this closet," Uncle Nelly told them in a rueful tone. "Why on earth those men wanted inside it so badly I'll never know. It's small and cramped and smells like wash left too long on the line. Not only that, the wallpaper is far more hideous than I remember," he shuddered, noticing that the floral Victorian pattern clashed dreadfully with the pleasant rose-colored living room walls. Uncle Nelly vowed that when renovation of the cottage began anew, the closet under the stairs would be put back to its original use. "But not with that dreadful wall covering! " he pledged.
"I'm getting a chair so I can examine the ceiling," Nancy determined.
"Watch your step," Cherry warned. Why, Nancy might twist an ankle or break her collarbone!
"Watch your step? That's a line from Father's secret message!" Frank cried. He got to his knees and started to examine the worn wood floor. The warped boards creaked under the weight of the lad. Soon he found a small notch just big enough for the tip of his trusty Boy Scout penknife. A plank of wood pulled away, revealing a dark space.
"There is a hiding place in this closet," Joe breathed excitedly as he shone his flashlight into the hole. The beam of his light glinted off a rusty metal box tucked into one corner. The boys shared a look of triumph. Surely they had found their father's secret map!
"Hurry, Joe," Frank urged as his brother snatched up the old box and brought it into the light of the room.
"Any minute now, we'll have the map in our hands," Joe hooted triumphantly as he used his own handy Boy Scout penknife to break open the lock. "Ah-ha! " he cried as the lid popped open. Then, in a keenly disappointed tone, he added, "Oh, it's only old family snapshots."
"Old family snapshots?" Uncle Nelly cried in alarm. "Joseph, give them to me!"
"Perhaps there's one of Uncle Nelly in an unflattering hairstyle," Joe grinned to his brother. "Here's one of Grandmother Hardly standing in front of the lake wearing a funny bathing costume," he said. "But who's this pretty little curly-haired girl holding her hand?" he mused. "Why, she looks just like Father!"
"No, boys," Uncle Nelly pleaded. "Forget you ever saw that photograph!" When Joe saw the alarm on his uncle's face, he dropped the box, scattering the sepia snapshots all over the rug.
"Sorry, Uncle," he cried. Joe hadn't meant to upset his uncle; he had just been acting like his boyishly curious self.
Uncle Nelly knelt to gather the photographs, growing misty-eyed when he gazed fondly at the little girl in the pictu
re. "I suppose it's foolish folly to try and keep the truth from you boys forever," he murmured. "And if, heaven forbid, we can't find your father, I'm sure he'd want you to know the whole truth."
The boys gasped. Their family had a secret?
Uncle Nelly looked mighty serious. "Boys," he said, "I've got something to tell you. And I only hope you're grown-up enough to understand." He looked fondly at the little girl in the photograph.
"Boys, this was your father, Fennel P. Hardly, as a child."
"What?" gasped Frank.
Uncle Nelly nodded. "Fennel P. Hardly, world-famous detective and husband to Mrs. Hardly for twenty-seven years is really my older sister, Fanny P. Hardly."
Frank and Joe were stunned into silence. Uncle Nelly continued.
"You see, boys, when Fanny and I were young, there was a lot of prejudice against girls. People thought they weren't as smart as boys, weren't logical or strong."
Frank gasped. "Prejudice against girls! Why, I've often wished I could be as strong and smart as a girl!" cried the lad.
"And I've often wished I was a girl," Joe admitted. The Hardly boys looked at each other in open-mouthed astonishment. "How could people be so stupid?" they chorused.
"Well, boys, people were pretty stupid back then. More than anything, Fanny wanted to be a detective, and she knew that there would never be a place in that world for a girl dick, so she decided to dress as a man, at least until she got established and made a name for her, er, himself.
"And pretty soon she discovered she liked pretending she was a man and since your mother didn't mind, well, the rest is history!"
"It's really true," Frank murmured in shock. "Father is a girl!" He bit his lip to hold back the tears, jumped up and raced to the closet.
