“He’d understand your turning the paper in late if you were in the hospital,” Jamal said.
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “That ogre? Being dead isn’t enough of an excuse for missing one of Firestein’s classes. Never having been born—now, that might work for not turning in a paper.”
“He’s pretty tough, all right,” Jake said. “I wish he wasn’t. Bet you do, too, Vanessa.”
“I don’t much care at this point,” Vanessa said. “Don’t forget, Jake, we’re supposed to be at the press conference tomorrow, too. It’s part of our job.”
“Why is that?” Frank asked.
“Securitech wants to thank the people who worked on the project,” Vanessa said. “A lot of the company’s employees are students at BIT.”
“Is that why they’re holding the press conference on campus?” Joe asked.
“I think so,” Jake said. “That and there’s been some trouble with vandalism on campus. The new system should change that, though. Oops! Forget I said that. My head must really be ringing.”
Vanessa smiled at him. “It’s all been very hush-hush,” she said. “But most of the details have been in the paper. Securitech is providing Bayport with a crime surveillance and prevention system. The cameras you mentioned are part of it.”
Joe spotted a camera on a nearby light pole. “Well,” he said, pointing toward it, “let’s hope they caught that bottle-thrower on tape.”
“Oh, the system hasn’t been activated, yet,” Vanessa said.
Joe snapped his fingers in frustration. “Just our luck.”
“Guys,” Jamal said, “Jake’s looking a little woozy again.”
“I’m okay,” Jake said as Frank went to help him. “I just need to get home, that’s all.”
“Good idea,” Frank said. He and Joe helped Jake around the corner and down the street to where the Hardys had parked their van.
Jamal led Vanessa in the other direction. “See you guys tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes,” Vanessa said. “Nice meeting both of you. Jake, call me and let me know if you’re okay.”
“Okay,” Jake replied.
“And don’t forget about tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder.
“I won’t,” Jake said.
Vanessa and Jamal got into Jamal’s sedan and drove off. The Hardys reached their van with Jake in tow.
“I’m really okay, you know,” Jake said.
Frank and Joe glanced at Jake, then at each other.
“If you say so,” Joe said.
“We’d feel better, though, if you’d let us take you to the hospital.”
Jake shook his head and a pained expression came over his face. “No. I can’t. I really have to work on my paper. I probably shouldn’t even have come out tonight, but Jamal was pretty insistent.”
“He can be that way,” Joe said, smiling. He slid open the side door of the van. Jake got inside, seated himself, and buckled himself in. Frank got behind the wheel; Joe took the front passenger seat. They both buckled in, and Frank started the engine.
He turned to Jake and asked, “Where to?”
“Smith Street, near the corner of Lester,” Jake said. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. “Thanks for the lift, guys.”
“It’s the least we can do,” Joe said.
“You said you were living off campus?” Frank said.
“Yeah,” Jake replied. “It’s a subsidized apartment just a few blocks from school. There’s been a jump in enrollment at BIT in the last few years.”
“Because of the computer boom, you mean,” Joe said.
“Yes,” Jake said. “The college ran out of dorm rooms, so they arranged for alternate housing off campus. Like I said, it’s not the best place, but it’s pretty close to my classes.”
“You majoring in computer science, Jake?” Frank asked. He turned the van toward the campus and headed for Smith Street.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “That’s why Professor Firestein’s class is so important to me. If I don’t pass it, I’ll have to take it again next year.”
“How far?” Frank asked as he turned the car onto Smith Street.
“Just a couple of blocks,” Jake said. “The number is Twenty-five Ten. It’s a two-story yellow-brick apartment building.”
“Gotcha,” Frank said.
“So, between working at Securitech and school, I imagine you stay pretty busy,” Joe said.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Too busy, sometimes.” He sounded tired.
“What kind of work do you do?” Joe asked.
“Computer programming,” Jake said.
“Like you did for Jamal’s dad?” asked Frank.
“Kind of the same,” Jake said. “I can’t really say too much about it, but I did some of the programming to help run the new security system. They’re not going to single me out or anything. The press conference is mostly to announce the first phase of the system coming online.”
Frank and Joe nodded. Frank spotted 2510 Smith Street and pulled into the parking lot. “Here you go,” he said. “Home sweet home.”
“Home sweet hovel is more like it,” Jake said. Joe helped him out the side door of the van, and Jake wobbled a bit as his legs hit the pavement.
“Don’t worry,” Jake said. “I can make it.”
“If you don’t mind, we’ll walk you to your door—just to be sure,” Joe said.
Jake nodded. “Okay. I guess that’s all right.”
“After all,” Frank added, smiling, “we wouldn’t want to have to tell Vanessa and Jamal that you fell down while in our care.”
Jake smiled back weakly. “No. I guess you wouldn’t.”
As Jake fumbled in his pockets for his keys, Joe spotted someone familiar. “Hey, Frank,” he said, indicating a guy in a black leather jacket walking on the far side of the parking lot. “Isn’t that Jay Stone, Vince Morelli’s pal?”
Frank nodded. “I wonder what he’s doing here?”
“Stoney?” Jake said. “Don’t worry about him. He lives in the apartment across from mine. Keeps to himself mostly.”
“When he’s not out making trouble with Morelli,” Joe said.
Stone walked out of sight as Jake finally fished out his keys. The three teens walked toward the building.
“Do you know what kind of car Stone drives?” Joe asked.
“No idea,” Jake said. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” Joe said.
On their way to the door, they passed a large oak tree. Posted on one side of it was a Take Back Our Streets poster. It featured a smiling picture of Councilwoman Hamilton and the slogan “Securitech Supports Safe Students and Citizens—Campus rally and press conference, 10:30 A.M. tomorrow.”
“Those popped up all over campus today,” Jake said. “I think they want a big turn-out for the cameras.”
“Understandable,” Joe said.
Jake put his key in the lock and opened the door to the building. “I’m on the second floor,” he said.
He pulled out another key and checked his mailbox but found nothing inside. He shut the box then walked up a stairway to the right of the door. Joe and Frank followed. At the top of the stairs, they came into a darkened hall.
“I can’t believe it,” Jake said. “The lights are out again.” The only illumination in the hall was from a dim red emergency exit sign above their heads and from another at the far end of the hall.
“Does this happen often?” Joe asked.
“Occasionally,” Jake said. “I’ll call the super and he’ll have it fixed by morning. Don’t worry, my room’s not far, just three doors down on the left.”
“Hey, listen!” Frank hissed.
They all stopped and peered into the darkness.
Someone else was in the hallway with them, and as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could see that that person was fumbling with Jake’s door.
3 Online On Campus
Frank pulled out his keychain and turned on the attached penlight. He
shone the faint beam toward the intruder at the same time that Joe yelled, “Hey! What are you doing there?”
The figure at the edge of the flashlight’s beam jumped, and all three teens heard something land softly on the carpeted floor. Joe and Frank rushed forward with Jake following just behind.
The figure looked as if she might take off. She stopped, though, when she saw Jake. “Jake,” she said, much relieved, “you scared me!”
Jake let out a long sigh as well. “It’s okay, guys,” he said. “It’s only Cindy. You gave us quite a scare, too. Cindy, these are the Hardy brothers, Frank and Joe.”
“Hi,” Cindy said, still looking a bit nervous. She was a short, thin girl with bleached blond hair cropped very short. She wore tattered jeans and a white T-shirt.
“Nice to meet you,” Frank said. Joe nodded his agreement.
Cindy squatted down, scooped something off the floor, and slipped it into her purse. Frank and Joe couldn’t make out what it was. “Some stuff spilled out of my purse when you startled me,” Cindy explained.
“What were you doing?” Joe asked.
“I tried the door, but there was no answer,” Cindy said.
“Cindy’s my girlfriend,” Jake said, then corrected himself. “Ex-girlfriend. But we’re still friends.”
“She still hasn’t told us why she’s here,” Frank said.
“I’m sorry,” Cindy said a bit defensively. “Can’t a friend just drop by to say hi? Besides, I don’t know what business it is of yours.”
“Well, Jake’s had kind of a rough evening,” Frank explained. “We’re just looking out for him.”
For the first time in the dim light, Cindy noticed the handkerchief tied around Jake’s head.
“Oh!” she gasped. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I got hit by some stray bottles,” Jake said. “It’s nothing.”
“Jake could really use some rest,” Joe said.
“Well, I wasn’t going to stay,” Cindy said. “I just came to say, hi, like I said. I wanted to remind Jake about the paper we have due tomorrow.”
“Are you in Professor Firestein’s class, too?” Frank asked.
Cindy nodded. “Yeah.”
“What do you think of the course?” Joe asked.
“It’s okay,” Cindy said. “I’ve had better classes.”
“Thanks for dropping by,” Jake said to Cindy. “I remembered the paper. I’m going to work on it right now, and I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning before the press conference.”
“Are you still going to that thing?” Cindy asked.
“I have to,” Jake said, a bit exasperated. “It’s part of my job.”
“I won’t keep you then,” Cindy said. She turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction.
Jake put his key in the lock and opened the door. “Thanks for the lift,” he told the Hardys.
“No problem,” Frank said. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, gently touching his head. “I’ll be fine, thanks. Just have to get to work.”
Joe and Frank nodded. “Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Joe said.
“Maybe,” Jake said. “I’d invite you in, but I’ve got a lot to do.”
“We understand,” said Frank.
“Maybe I could buy you a soda some other time,” Jake offered.
“Sure thing,” Joe said.
“Well, okay. Great. See ya. Bye,” Jake said. He went inside his apartment and shut the door.
Frank and Joe headed for the exit. When they got out the front door, Joe said, “I don’t know about you, but he didn’t look fine to me.”
Frank nodded. “He looked worn out even before he was hit. Do you think it’s just overwork?”
“Could be,” Joe said. “We probably should have taken him to the hospital, had that cut checked out.”
“What were we going to do, drag him to the emergency room against his will?”
“I don’t know, but I wish we’d done more,” Joe said. “I think Jamal’s right—something’s going on with Jake.”
“We’ll just keep an eye on him like Jamal suggested,” Frank said.
“Good thing we’ve got a few days off from school.”
Frank nodded.
As they walked to the car, they passed the oak tree again. The poster for the next day’s rally had been torn and a mustache drawn on Councilwoman Hamilton’s face.
“Vandals?” Joe suggested.
“Either that or anarchists,” Frank said with a smile. “Or maybe someone who doesn’t like the councilwoman.”
“I’m not sure I like her either,” Joe said. “This whole security camera business makes me uneasy.”
“I know what you mean,” Frank agreed. “It seems like an invasion of privacy.”
When they reached the van, Joe hopped into the driver’s side. Frank rode shotgun as they headed for home.
Jamal knocked on the Hardys’ door just as they were finishing a late breakfast. Laura Hardy, Joe and Frank’s mother, answered the door and showed Jamal into the kitchen.
“You guys going to this Securitech press conference thing?” Jamal asked.
Frank took a gulp of milk and said, “I think so. And you?”
“Yeah. I promised Vanessa I would. By the way, what did you guys think about Jake?”
“Something’s definitely going on with him,” Joe said, then put a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “We’re just not sure what, yet. Might just be overwork.”
Jamal nodded. “Maybe. I’m still worried, though.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Frank said. “How did you and Vanessa hit it off?”
“Great!” Jamal said, grinning. “We’ve got a lot in common: sports, music, movies. I promised to take her up in one of Dad’s planes sometime.”
Joe took his dishes to the sink, rinsed them off, and put them in the dishwasher. Frank did the same.
“Glad to hear it,” Joe said. “Are you meeting her at the rally?”
“Afterward,” Jamal said. “She’s going to be onstage for the press conference. A lot of Securitech employees are.”
“Want to ride with us?” Frank asked.
“No thanks,” Jamal said. “Vanessa and I might want to do something afterward.”
“You old smooth mover,” Joe said, smiling.
The three friends headed out, and fifteen minutes later Joe pulled the van into a Bayport Institute of Technology parking lot near where the rally was being held. Joe gave a low whistle. “Look at all the news vans,” he said to Frank.
“Looks like more cameras than at the march last night,” Frank said. They spotted Jamal parking his car on the other side of the lot and jogged over to meet him.
“Quite a party,” Jamal said as he got out of his sedan. “Look at the size of this crowd. Mostly students, I’d guess.”
“They’re probably curious, just like us,” Frank said.
“Let’s see if we can get good seats,” Joe replied.
They started walking across the campus lawn to where a podium and grandstand had been set up. They passed a small group of orderly protesters carrying signs reading, Security, Not Securitech, and Cameras Don’t Equal Security, and other similar messages.
“Obviously a teen threat,” Joe said sarcastically as they passed the group.
“I don’t know about these folks,” Jamal said, “but did you see the Kings around?”
“You mean Vince Morelli and his bunch?” Frank said. “No. Did you?”
“I saw a couple of them hanging near the edge of the crowd. Morelli, Stone, Bettis, and some girl I didn’t know,” Jamal said.
“Bettis used to be on the football team with me,” Joe said.
“Until he dropped out of school,” Frank added. “What were they doing?”
“Just hanging out,” Jamal said. “Hey, there they are now.”
Morelli, Stone, and Bettis were making their way through the crowd, moving parallel to the Har
dys, toward the platform. Howard “Harley” Bettis was a beefy teen, about an inch shorter than Joe. Morelli and Stone looked hostile, as usual. All three were wearing their black leather jackets with Kings painted in red and yellow on the backs.
“Look at them,” Jamal said. “You’d think they were a gang.”
“They are,” Joe said. “Well, gang wannabes, more like it. Morelli has a room above his old man’s garage. They hang out there fooling around with computer equipment.”
“The police have suspected them of several petty crimes,” Frank said, “but they’ve never been able to pin anything on them.”
“What do they do for a living, if they’re not in school?” Jamal asked.
“Stone is in school,” Joe said, “but the others just hang out, taking odd jobs—”
“Possibly illegal jobs,” Frank put in.
“Sometimes they do some car repair work in the garage, I know,” Joe said. “I’m not sure who’d take a car there, though. It’s not a nice part of town. There’s a girl in my class who hangs out with them, too, Missy Gates. Maybe she’s the girl you saw.”
“Could be, but she’s not with them now,” Jamal noted. “Come on. There’s a spot over by that tree with a clear view of the stage.”
Jamal led Frank and Joe to a spot under a big maple tree that was just turning red, and they all settled in to wait for the press conference. The three of them scanned the podium but didn’t see their friends. “I don’t see Jake or Vanessa,” Jamal said.
“Maybe they’re not here yet,” Frank suggested.
“Could be,” Joe agreed. “Hang on . . . Councilwoman Hamilton’s moving toward the podium.”
Hamilton was a tall, thin woman with short-cropped reddish brown hair. She was immaculately dressed in a maroon business suit and wore a round gold pin on her lapel. She tapped the mike to make sure it was working.
A smattering of applause greeted her along with one loud boo from close to the Hardys’ left. The brothers spotted Morelli and his Kings friends just a short distance away.
“Welcome,” the councilwoman said, ignoring the Kings. “It’s good to see so many fine young people joining us today. The Take Back Our Streets campaign is mostly for you, you know. Young people have the right to walk the streets of Bayport in safety.”
The Spy That Never Lies Page 2
