The Spy That Never Lies

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Hamilton pointed at some nearby students carrying protest signs. “They did this,” she said loudly enough so everyone could hear. “They slashed my tires before the system went online just to humiliate me!”

  The students looked sheepish. The reporters pointed their cameras at the protesters. A cop on the scene began to take notes.

  “Let’s get out of here before she decides to blame it on us,” Joe whispered. Frank nodded and they quickly moved toward their van.

  When they got there, Frank climbed behind the wheel and Joe picked up the cell phone. Joe dialed Jake’s number while Frank drove.

  “No answer,” Joe said. Then added, “Who do you think really slashed Hamilton’s tires?”

  “Who knows?” Frank said. “It could have been the Kings—they did cut out pretty early. On the other hand, the councilwoman strikes me as the kind of person who makes enemies pretty easily.”

  “I haven’t known her long and I’m a fan already,” Joe said.

  Frank laughed, then abruptly stopped and said, “Check that out.” He pointed at a small box atop a light pole at the edge of the parking lot.

  Joe looked up and saw a Securitech camera busily scanning the area. “I expect we’ll be seeing a lot more of those in the future,” he said.

  It took them only a few minutes to drive to Jake’s apartment. As they went, both brothers noticed numerous rally signs posted along the way. Nearly all of them had been defaced.

  “I wonder if they got any of that on camera,” Joe said.

  “Maybe not,” Frank replied. “I haven’t seen any Securitech gizmos since we left the campus.”

  “But Jake’s is just a few blocks away,” Joe said.

  “A few blocks, and a million miles in terms of political influence,” Frank noted.

  They pulled into the lot and got out of the van. When they entered Jake’s building, they ran into Jay Stone coming downstairs. He was wearing his Kings jacket and combing his hair.

  “Hey, Hardy boys,” Stone said mockingly. “Solved any big crimes lately?”

  “A few, Stoney,” Joe said, “but we haven’t connected you to any of them—yet.”

  Stone pushed past them and out the door. “Well, good luck,” he called back. “Don’t take any red herrings.”

  “You know,” Joe said when Stone had gone, “you might be right, Frank. He did read a book once.”

  “Probably just an abridged version,” Frank said. “Let’s check on Jake.”

  The two of them went upstairs and knocked on Jake’s door. When no one answered, Joe tried the knob. “It’s unlocked,” he said, and pushed the door open. The brothers stepped inside.

  The room was dark and smelled vaguely of unwashed dishes. Curtains had been drawn over the windows, so the only light came from a computer screen on the far side of the room. Papers lay strewn all over the floor. A body lay slumped on a couch facing the door.

  The body moved as Joe found a light switch and flicked it on.

  “Jake!” Frank cried.

  Jake opened his eyes and stared blearily at the brothers. He was still wearing the same clothes he had been in the day before, and Frank’s handkerchief was still wrapped around his head.

  “We were worried about you, man,” Joe said.

  “What time is it?” Jake asked.

  “Nearly twelve-thirty,” Joe replied.

  Jake sat bolt upright on the couch, instantly awake. Then he put his hands to his temples. “Ow! My head! What a killer headache. I have to get to that rally.”

  “Rally’s over,” Frank said. “We ran into Professor Firestein afterward. He said you need to get your paper to him before one, or you’re out of the class.”

  “Oh, man,” Jake said. “I’ve really messed up now!” He dashed into the bathroom and came out with two aspirin and a glass of water. “Thanks for waking me up, guys,” he said. “You saved my life.”

  “I doubt that,” Joe said. “But maybe you should still have a doctor check out your head. That headache could be a sign of a concussion.”

  “Don’t have time for that now,” Jake said, gathering up a pile of papers from the floor. He stuffed the papers in a small briefcase and headed for the door. “Besides,” he said, “it’s just overwork. I’m sure of it.”

  The Hardys looked at each other skeptically. “Look, why don’t you meet us at the mall after you drop off your paper,” Joe said. “We can have lunch and talk it over.”

  “Sounds great,” Jake said, not looking at them as he headed out the door. “How about at that potato place, Spud Spa. It’s in the food court.”

  “Okay,” Frank said, “see you there in an hour or so.”

  “Thanks, guys,” Jake called over his shoulder as he raced down the hall. “Lock the door when you leave.”

  Joe looked around the room. Apparently, the mess was by design. “Who’d want to steal anything?” Joe asked.

  Frank shrugged. “A lot of students can’t keep their lives together—never mind their rooms.”

  “Shall we poke around a bit before we go?” Joe asked. “See if we can find out what’s bugging him?”

  “I don’t think we’ve come to that yet,” Frank said. “It’s not like we’re investigating a crime—just checking on a friend for another friend.”

  “Well,” Joe said, “at least we found him. Let’s call Jamal and head for the food court. I’m famished.”

  Frank used the cell phone to get in touch with Jamal as they drove to the mall. Jamal and Vanessa were relieved to hear that the Hardys had found Jake and that Jake was on his way to Firestein to deliver his paper. They agreed to meet the Hardys at the mall in fifteen minutes.

  As Frank and Joe drove to the mall, they couldn’t help but take note of the Securitech cameras along the way.

  “I notice that there weren’t many cameras in the poorer parts of town, like near Jake’s,” Joe said. “But there’s plenty of security out here.”

  Frank nodded and frowned. “Kubrick said they were protecting the places that most needed it. I guess he thinks poorer folk don’t get robbed.”

  “I’m not sure whether to hope that they get cameras in the poorer areas, or just hope this whole project goes away,” Joe said.

  “I know what you mean,” Frank replied. “This business of being on camera all the time gives me the creeps.”

  They got to the mall a few minutes later and, because the lot was crowded, parked near the back. “Never hurts to do a bit of walking,” Joe said as he pulled the van into an empty spot.

  As they walked toward an entrance, Howard “Harley” Bettis cruised past them on his motorcycle. He revved his engine as he went by, causing both Hardys to jump. Harley laughed and zipped away.

  “Those Kings,” Joe said.

  “Hey, there’s Jamal and Vanessa,” Frank said. They were waiting for them outside the mall’s main entrance. Frank and Joe jogged to where their friends were standing.

  “Glad you found Jake,” Jamal said. “How’d he look?”

  “Not so hot,” Frank said. “But we didn’t have time to quiz him—he was in too much of a hurry.”

  “Well, at least he got Firestein off his back,” Vanessa noted.

  “He’s supposed to meet us at the Spud Spa in half an hour,” Joe said. “With a little luck . . . Hey!”

  “What is it, Joe?” Frank asked.

  Joe pointed. “See that SUV? I want to get a better look at it.” He started to walk toward a red vehicle with tinted windows.

  “Do you think that’s the one that threw those bottles at Jake?” Jamal asked.

  “Let’s find out,” Frank said, following his brother.

  As they approached the car, though, the SUV suddenly backed out of its space and took off.

  “They’ve seen us,” Joe cried. “Let’s get ’em!”

  6 Who’s Chasing Whom?

  “I’ll try to cut them off,” Frank said. He darted between two cars and headed for the end of the next row.

  “Good idea,”
Joe called. “I’ll get the van.” He sprinted across the lot toward where they had parked.

  “What should we do?” Jamal shouted after the brothers.

  “Wait here!” Joe shouted back. “When Jake shows up, tell him we’ll be right back!”

  Frank, sprinting between the cars, smiled at his brother’s confidence. Frank didn’t feel quite so cocky. While the arrangement of the lot favored him, the SUV was a lot faster than he was. He knew he would be lucky to catch the car on foot.

  Fortunately, he was tall enough to see over the roofs of the cars as he darted through the aisles; the SUV was a big target as well. Frank chose a path that would put him between the vehicle and the nearest exit.

  He glanced back and saw Joe hop into their van and start the engine. The odds were tilting in their favor. The SUV was moving quickly, as if its driver wanted to get out of the mall in a hurry. Fortunately for the Hardys, other cars and one-way aisles made it difficult to speed through the parking lot.

  Frank’s plan worked. He found himself at the end of an aisle just as the SUV turned into it. There was no one between him and the SUV. He waved his arms, trying to get the car to stop. He couldn’t see the driver through the tinted windows.

  The SUV came straight at him. It didn’t slow down.

  At the last possible moment, the car turned right, darting through an empty space between a sports car and a van and into the next aisle. That aisle ran in the opposite direction, but the SUV’s driver didn’t seem to care. The car zipped to the end of the row, turned right, and darted off toward a nearby exit.

  Frank kicked himself for not seeing the escape route. Now he’d lost the SUV.

  A van screeched to a halt at the top of the aisle. Frank realized it was Joe. He sprinted to the van, threw the passenger side door open, and hopped in. Joe took off, turning left at the exit, and then left again onto the wide road running beside the mall.

  “Joe, are you sure that was the right SUV?” Frank asked as he buckled himself in.

  “Why else would they be running from us?” Joe asked. “Besides, check out the bumper sticker.”

  Frank read it. “Chaos Rules. The same sticker you saw the other night!”

  “Right,” Joe said. “And the license plate’s still covered with mud. Any questions?”

  “Just one,” Frank said. “Who’s driving that car?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Joe said, pushing the gas pedal down.

  The SUV crested a hill, and they lost sight of it temporarily. When the van bounced over the hilltop, the Hardys were just in time to see the SUV turn off onto a smaller side road.

  “Whoever’s driving that car has pretty good reflexes,” Joe said. He slowed the van enough to make the turn, then gunned it again.

  “We’re just lucky that these roads are pretty deserted,” Frank replied.

  “I don’t know,” Joe said. “I’d be pretty happy for a traffic jam right about now. That way we’d be able to catch up to them on foot.”

  “Doubting your driving skills, Joe? Maybe I should take the wheel,” Frank kidded.

  “No way, bro. That’d be like switching quarterbacks once you’d made it into the playoffs.”

  The van turned left, taking the brothers even farther into the semirural countryside surrounding the mall. The SUV bounced over the hilly road with the Hardys’ van still pursuing.

  “You know,” Frank said, “I was just thinking: one of Morelli’s gang used to drive a red SUV before he dropped out of high school. I don’t remember who it was, though.”

  “Well, we just saw Bettis driving his Harley, so we know it isn’t him. It might be Morelli or Stone, though.”

  “I don’t think it’s Stone,” Frank said. “He lives in the same apartment building as Jake. If it was his car, we’d probably have spotted it in the apartment parking lot.”

  “That leaves Morelli,” Joe said, “if it’s one of them at all.”

  “It could be Missy Gates as well,” Frank said. “I don’t think we can rule her out just because she’s a girl.”

  “She doesn’t seem to be the bottle-throwing type,” Joe said, “though I don’t know her very well.”

  “If she’s in with the Kings, she’s probably got it in her,” Frank said. “They also could have members that we don’t know about.”

  “Whoever is behind the wheel is a pretty good driver,” Joe said. They topped another hill, and a long stretch of deserted road lay before them. Because of Joe’s expert driving, the SUV was only four car lengths away now. “Let’s see how many horses they’ve got under the hood,” Joe said with a twinkle in his eye.

  He floored the accelerator and the van leaped forward. The SUV’s driver saw them coming and swerved toward the center of the road, trying to cut them off.

  Joe swerved in the other direction, the van’s tires catching the edge of the shoulder and kicking gravel and dust into the air. The SUV cut back in front of them so Joe couldn’t pass on the right.

  “Yow!” Frank said. “Whoever they are, they don’t want to get caught, that’s for sure.”

  Suddenly the SUV cut left, barreling across the road and heading straight for the trees that lined the left side of the road. For a moment the Hardys thought the car would crash.

  The SUV’s driver obviously knew the road better than Joe did. The vehicle darted between the trees and onto an unpaved road running into the forest.

  “Rats!” Joe blurted. He hit the brakes and cut the wheel hard. The van’s tires squealed, and it fish-tailed as Joe brought it around in a 180-degree turn. The cell phone flew from its cradle on the dash, but Frank caught it before it could sail out the window.

  “Good thing we didn’t have any hot coffee in here,” Frank said.

  They’d missed the turn, but Joe backtracked and swung the van onto the dirt road. They barreled down the dirt road, dust from the car ahead of them obscuring their view.

  “Watch out for wild animals,” Frank said. “I’d hate to hit a deer at this speed.”

  “They’ll hit it first,” Joe said grimly.

  Suddenly they topped a hill and saw the end of the woods ahead of them. The SUV skidded out of the dirt road and toward a paved stretch.

  “What road do you think that is?” Joe asked.

  “Barmet Boulevard, I’d guess,” Frank said. “We’ve cut through the woods toward a pretty high-class suburb.”

  “Let’s hope we catch them before they hit one of those subdivisions. We’ll never find them in all those winding roads.”

  The Hardys’ luck held. The SUV was only a short distance ahead when they exited the woods. In fact, the driver seemed to be having trouble controlling the vehicle. The red car swerved from side to side.

  “They’ve blown a tire!” Frank said as the car swerved off the road and into a ditch by the shoulder. The SUV came to a sudden halt.

  Joe pulled up on the shoulder and skidded the van to a stop just a short distance from the stranded car. The SUV’s passenger-side door opened, and a woman got out.

  “Are you crazy?” she screamed. She was about the Hardys’ age, of medium height and build, and had scraggly brown hair. She was wearing a Kings jacket.

  “Missy Gates,” Joe said. “So you’re the one who threw that bag of bottles at Jake. We suspected you Kings might be behind this.”

  “You are in a world of trouble, Joe Hardy,” Missy said. “You and your snotty brother, too.”

  “Don’t say anything, Missy,” a voice called out from inside the van. “I’ve called the cops, and I’ve called my mother, too.”

  “Who’s in there with you?” Joe asked. He still couldn’t see through the SUV’s tinted windows.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Frank said. “We’ve got them and the cops can sort it out.” The brothers could hear police sirens even now.

  “That’s what you think, wise guy,” the voice said. The door to the driver’s side opened and out stepped Cindy.

  Frank and Joe looked at Jake’s ex-girlfrien
d, then at each other. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Joe said.

  “You bet it doesn’t make any sense,” Cindy said angrily, “you chasing us all over the place.”

  “We know you hit Jake last night,” Joe said.

  Cindy sneered. “Prove it.” Missy Gates laughed.

  With the wail of sirens, two police cruisers pulled up, one from either direction. They took up positions on either side of the Hardys’ van. The officers inside the cars got out and walked toward the group.

  “What’s going on here?” the lead officer asked.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Cindy said. “These guys have been chasing us all around town, and they nearly got us killed!”

  7 The Eye of the Beholder

  “That’s not true,” Joe protested. “They hit a friend of ours with some bottles, and we were trying to catch up with them.”

  “He’s lying,” Cindy said angrily. “These two are troublemakers. They’ve been following us, harassing us. Check the video tapes of this morning’s rally at BIT. They were making trouble there, too.”

  Joe’s face reddened. “We have witnesses . . .” he began.

  Cindy tugged at Missy’s arm. “So do I,” she said.

  “That’s right,” Missy said. “These guys were chasing us. We were afraid for our lives.”

  Frank stepped forward. “I’m Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe,” he said. “Officer Con Riley or Chief Collig will vouch for us.”

  “Well,” Cindy said, “I’m Cindy Hamilton, and my mother—the councilwoman—will vouch for me.”

  Joe and Frank looked at each other, more than a little surprised at Cindy’s revelation.

  The officer who had been talking to the group scratched his head. “I think we had all better go downtown to straighten this out,” he said. “Hop into the cruisers. I’ll have one officer stay with the stranded car, another will bring the van.”

  “Sounds good,” Frank said. He and Joe headed toward the squad car indicated by the cop.