Past and Present Danger

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Joe and Frank nodded, then led the way back down the trail to the parking lot.

  “When did you learn about this?” Frank asked, after they were all seated in Aunt Gertrude’s car. She had started the car and turned on the heater.

  “I read about it in the papers some time ago,” Aunt Gertrude replied. “I tried to call Clayton when it happened, but he had already been fired and I didn’t have his home number.”

  Clayton Silvers turned to the boys, who were sitting in the backseat. “Your aunt and I hadn’t talked to each other for years,” he explained. “We weren’t angry or anything like that. It was just—”

  “He became so full of himself,” Aunt Gertrude interrupted. “After he started working as a reporter, he lost contact with his old friends.”

  Silvers chuckled. “You won’t let me forget that, will you?” he said, shaking his head.

  “No,” Gertrude Hardy replied. “Then showing up here and pretending that nothing had happened. Really.”

  “What brought you to Bayport, Mr. Silvers?” Frank asked. “What are you looking for?”

  “Not what,” Clayton corrected. “Who.” He turned to Gertrude Hardy. “Can we drive around a little while I explain?”

  Gertrude pulled out of the parking lot and continued up the main road toward the top of the cliff.

  “The first conspiracy I uncovered lit up Washington and my career,” Silvers said proudly. “I got a raise, respect, and a few threats.” He smiled as if recalling some favorite memory. “But I didn’t care. I had the bug. I knew what I wanted to do.”

  He continued his story slowly, being sure to explain every detail as if his life depended on it. Much of it was what the boys had already learned. But as they reached the top of the steep cliff and started down the other side, his story took on a new angle.

  “I never took those bribes,” he insisted. “I only went after those people because they were crooked—for no other reason.”

  “Then how do you explain the money in the Swiss bank account?” Frank asked.

  “At first I couldn’t,” Silvers replied. “Because I didn’t know who had framed me. I’ve made a few enemies in my time.”

  “You almost made another one,” Aunt Gertrude said, shaking her head. “Telling me you were here on vacation.” Suddenly the car swerved slightly toward the cliffside. Gertrude Hardy quickly straightened it again.

  “Better keep your mind on the road, and not on teasing me, Spitfire,” Clayton told her.

  Frank and Joe chuckled until they noticed the car was picking up speed and swerving.

  “Something’s wrong!” Aunt Gertrude cried. There was fear in her voice as she struggled with the steering.

  “Maybe we’d better pull over and stop,” Clayton suggested.

  “I’m trying to, but the brakes aren’t holding.”

  The sedan weaved back and forth as it picked up more and more speed despite Aunt Gertrude’s best efforts.

  “Pump the brakes!” Joe shouted. He wanted to reach over the front seat and grab the wheel, but he was afraid that would make matters worse.

  “I am!” Aunt Gertrude exclaimed. “But it’s not working!”

  Joe saw only the low metal guardrail and a hundred-foot drop to the beach below. Frank saw the oncoming traffic lane and the sharp protruding rocks of the cliff face. The boys couldn’t choose which would be worse to steer toward. But as the car took another mad swerve toward the cliff face, the Hardys had the sickening feeling a choice was about to be made for them.

  6

  Nowhere to Go but Down

  Joe could see the terror in his aunt’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. Her fingers were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that the knuckles had turned white.

  Sitting directly behind Aunt Gertrude, Frank Hardy saw the side of the cliff rushing toward them. They were in the oncoming lane now, whipping around a turn, and there was no way of knowing if another car or truck was bearing down on them.

  Again, Aunt Gertrude twisted the wheel slightly. That single movement sent the car back into the proper lane, but now they were only inches from the cliff edge. Clayton Silvers and Joe Hardy both sucked in air as the rear wheel skidded on gravel and sand along the shoulder before Gertrude Hardy managed to get the car back on the road.

  “You can do this, Aunt Gertrude,” Frank said firmly, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “But the brakes won’t hold!” The words practically caught in her throat.

  “I know,” Frank said, and he did know from experience. He and Joe had been in this situation more times than he cared to remember. He knew one other thing: the longer this lasted, the sooner their luck would run out.

  “Get into the left lane,” he told his aunt.

  “But the oncoming traffic!”

  The road was straight now, and Frank could see the left lane was clear for a hundred feet or so. “We have to take the chance before we reach that next sharp turn!” he insisted.

  “Side drag?” Joe asked, realizing what his brother was going for.

  Frank nodded without looking at Joe and without taking his hands off his aunt’s shoulders.

  “We have to try to slow the car down by dragging it against something,” he explained to her.

  “The cliff?” Aunt Gertrude could not believe what he was asking her to do.

  “Well, that’s better than the option on this side,” Clayton added, trying to sound flip. His voice trembled.

  Gertrude Hardy turned the wheel, and the car jerked left into the oncoming lane. She squeezed the steering wheel tighter as the tires slipped off the paved surface and onto grass and dirt. In an instant the sedan’s metal body seemed to scream as it dragged against the sharp rock. The car jumped to the right from the impact, and Aunt Gertrude almost lost control of it.

  They were in the right lane now. As they reached the turn, tires screeching, they all held their breath and Clayton made a grab for the steering wheel.

  “Don’t you dare!” Aunt Gertrude shouted. She steered the car away from the far edge and into the left lane and the turn. A Jeep went by with four teenagers in it. The two cars missed each other by scant inches.

  “Oh my,” Gertrude Hardy gasped. “I almost—”

  “But you didn’t,” Joe interrupted.

  Frank looked down the hill. Again it was clear for a few hundred feet before the next turn. “Do it again,” he urged his aunt.

  “Go for it, Spitfire,” Clayton said. He was staring straight ahead, his left hand braced against the dashboard, his right hand gripping the door handle.

  Aunt Gertrude didn’t say a word. She didn’t take her eyes off the road. Once more she steered the vehicle against the rocks. Again, it almost bounced back onto the road, but she held it as steady as she could.

  There was the thud and the terrible screech of metal. But they could feel the car slowing, just a little. Frank tried not to squeeze his aunt too tightly. He was prepared to lunge forward and grab the wheel if he had to, and he knew Joe would do the same. But their best chance for survival was if their aunt could bring them to a stop.

  Another curve was coming up.

  Again Aunt Gertrude steered the car toward the cliff face, desperately fighting to keep control. The tires kicked up more gravel and grass, and Aunt Gertrude knew the car would hit any second. Her grip on the wheel became tighter and tighter.

  Something caught the front fender, and the car spun slightly to the left and smashed into the rocks, crushing the headlight and grille. Aunt Gertrude screamed as the car bounced back out onto the road, skidding toward the cliff edge.

  Frank and Joe were thrown sideways against each other. Clayton Silvers’s car door swung open, and his body could have been flung out of the vehicle, but his seat belt held.

  Gertrude Hardy screamed as the car spun again and again, slowing it down. For a brief second, she had no sense of direction. She only felt an arm shoot past her and then something thump inside the steering column. There wa
s a horrible grinding sound, and something seemed to tear in the engine. All at once the car came to a stop, and there was silence.

  Joe was the first one out of the car. “We gotta move fast,” he yelled as he helped Clayton Silvers out of the vehicle. The reporter’s seat belt was jammed, so he had to slide out from under it. “We’re across the road, and something could come around that curve and nail us!”

  Frank was helping Aunt Gertrude. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  His aunt’s eyes were wide, her mouth half opened in a funny O shape. She reluctantly let go of the wheel and allowed Frank to help her from the car.

  The boys walked Clayton and Aunt Gertrude to the far side of the road, then they ran back to the vehicle.

  “Let’s push it to the side of the road before someone comes around that turn,” Frank said. Working as quickly as they could, the boys managed to push the mangled vehicle into a slight ditch on the cliff side of the road. Joe quickly took a highway emergency pack out of the trunk and began setting up hazard flares every few feet.

  By the time he rejoined Frank and the others, his aunt was more talkative. Gertrude Hardy was seated on a small white boulder, Clayton on the ground beside her.

  “I’ve never had a problem with that car, especially the brakes,” Gertrude Hardy said. She turned toward the boys slowly. “You know how often I take it to be serviced?”

  Frank grinned weakly. “The garage mechanic is thinking of giving her frequent service miles,” he teased. “Would you stay with her while we check out the car?” Frank asked Clayton. The reporter nodded but said nothing.

  Joe pulled his cell phone from a holder on his belt. “Maybe you can call for a tow truck while you wait,” he suggested. Both Clayton and his aunt nodded.

  For fifteen minutes the boys checked under the hood and the underside of the car. They examined the steering column, the brake pads and drums. By the time they finished, they had a pretty good idea of what had happened.

  “What did you find?” Aunt Gertrude asked them.

  Frank hesitated. “Well, the car is pretty banged up,” he said. “It’s hard to be sure.”

  “Do not patronize me, Frank Hardy,” Aunt Gertrude said sternly. “I am not a child, any more than you are.”

  Joe shrugged. “It looks like someone tampered with the brakes. The brake fluid lines were cut.” Before he could say more Frank shot him a look to be quiet.

  Clayton Silvers paced angrily. “They were after me,” he said to Gertrude, “and that almost got you killed.”

  “Why is someone after you, sir?” Frank asked.

  “Tell them, Clayton,” Aunt Gertrude said. “They have a right to know.”

  “A little over a year ago, I was after some industrial thieves,” he said. “These guys were the best of the best. There wasn’t a laboratory or computer corporation that they couldn’t get into. They hit places all over the United States.”

  “Those places have top security precautions,” Frank said. “Guard patrols, pressure floors, video cameras, infrared lights, retina-scan code keys, and more.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “We’ve gone up against some stuff like that. There’s a plant around here, Fairmont Industries, that has that kind of security. We helped them out once.”

  “So how did these guys pull off the thefts?” Frank asked.

  “That’s what I wanted to find out,” Clayton replied. “Especially since I was getting tips that these guys were moving up. I heard they were planning to go after weapons plans and government secrets.”

  “Are these guys spies?” Frank asked.

  “No. Just thieves,” Clayton replied. “But the worst kind. They’ll sell anything to the highest bidder. No conscience. No loyalties.”

  “Tell them about your other concern, Clayton,” Aunt Gertrude said.

  Clayton Silvers rubbed his face and neck, then sighed heavily. “I’d started to pick up information that suggested these guys were connected to somebody big in Washington.”

  Joe’s face lit up. “You mean, someone in the government, like the CIA or NSA?”

  “I don’t know if it’s that high,” Clayton replied. “But considering what they can do, and the kind of equipment they have access to … I don’t know.”

  “Just as Clayton was starting to get close to these people,” Aunt Gertrude said, “he was accused of those awful things.”

  “The money showed up in a Swiss bank account I’d never seen before,” Clayton explained. “There was even an electronic trail that suggested I had made the deposits myself. Then there were records of purchases I had never made, expensive stuff. It just got worse and worse.”

  “Clayton couldn’t prove his innocence, so he was fired,” Aunt Gertrude said.

  “Sometimes the media can work against a man,” Clayton said. “A few of the very reporters I’d known for years were scrambling to get the goods on me. Friends!”

  Joe exchanged a nervous glance with Frank, then turned to his aunt. “You agreed to help Mr. Silvers look for these guys?” he asked awkwardly.

  Aunt Gertrude could tell her nephew was holding something back. “Yes,” she explained. “Clayton said there were indications that these people set themselves up in the area near the place they plan to rob. There were unconfirmed rumors they were moving into Bayport, and obviously they’re here and onto him. I thought I could help him look around where there is rental property.” Abruptly she stopped. “But that’s not what you’re really asking, is it?” she concluded.

  Joe and Frank didn’t know what to say, but their aunt understood their silence.

  “Yes, I believe Clayton is innocent,” she replied. “Not just because he is a friend. Clayton has always thought well of himself. He has always been very proud of his accomplishments and achievements. He would never do anything to tarnish his reputation. Never.”

  Clayton smiled. “Are you trying to say I have a big ego?”

  Aunt Gertrude chuckled. “Trying?”

  The tow truck pulled up, and after Frank explained what had happened, the driver started hitching the damaged vehicle to his truck. He told the Hardys he’d give them a lift back to their van.

  “I’ll go with your aunt to the garage and make sure she gets home all right,” Clayton said. “It’s the least I can do. Then I’d suggest you all stay clear of me until—”

  “As my nephews might say—I don’t think so,” Gertrude Hardy said. “I believe you’re innocent, Clayton, and I will do what I can to help prove it.”

  “But—”

  “We all will,” Joe added.

  “I’m sure our dad will help, too, once he hears what’s happening,” Frank offered.

  “But I can’t ask you to—” Silvers started to say.

  “You haven’t,” Aunt Gertrude replied. “And you should know better than to try to talk me out of anything. From this point on, these thieves will have to deal with Hardys.”

  7

  Tall Stories

  “Then it’s settled,” Joe told his aunt. “How about we work on tracking down the thugs, while you and Mr. Silvers try to locate any newcomers to town.”

  “There’s no way I can talk you people out of this?” Clayton Silvers asked. “You know what I’m up against. The danger and all.”

  “We’d keep digging on our own anyway,” Joe replied.

  Clayton Silvers shook his head. “This is exactly why I’m not married,” he said softly. “I never wanted to put anyone I cared about in danger.”

  “Good thing our father didn’t think the way you do,” Joe replied.

  “Our mom knew what she was getting into when she married a police officer,” Frank added.

  Clayton stared at the damaged car, then glanced over at Gertrude Hardy. “Sometimes life isn’t that simple or kind.”

  Frank and Joe saw the look that passed between their aunt and Mr. Silvers.

  “Okay,” Clayton said reluctantly. “I’ll accept your help. I’ve got this local stoolie who might know something,” he conti
nued. “He’s been useful but expensive.”

  Frank realized Clayton was probably talking about the man Joe had seen him meet the day before in the mall parking lot.

  “Then let’s get going,” Joe insisted, and they all squeezed into the tow truck and started up the hill to the Hardys’ van.

  “You two know how I feel about your getting into dangerous situations,” Aunt Gertrude warned. “I was thinking we’d call your—”

  “We’ll be careful,” Joe said. He gave his aunt a big smile. “Besides, it looks like sleuthing runs in the family.”

  “And all we plan to do is gather information,” Frank assured her. “That’s all.”

  “Well … all right.” Reluctantly, Gertrude Hardy watched the boys climb out of the truck and walk over to their van as the tow truck pulled out of the lot.

  “Why didn’t you want me to tell them what else we found?” Joe asked as Frank popped the hood. “Don’t you think they have a right to know? Especially Mr. Silvers.”

  “Sure he does,” Frank replied. “But I want to be able to give him some answers, not more things to worry about.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small disk-shaped object. It was black, thin as a quarter, with two tiny wires dangling from one side. “Someone planted this tracking device on Aunt Gertrude’s car,” Frank continued. “That means they could have done the same with this van.”

  “Or sabotaged it.” Joe dropped down to the ground and began examining the underside of the vehicle.

  “I don’t think it’s likely, but it won’t hurt to check it out,” Frank said. “Then let’s get into town and look for some answers.”

  The boys did not find any devices attached to their van, and ten minutes later they were back in Bayport.

  On the way in, Joe had called their friend Tony Prito and told him about the case. Tony agreed to help them, so Frank drove straight to Tony’s house.

  “So you’ll take the tracking device to Phil Cohen,” Joe said to Frank as they pulled into the Pritos’ driveway. Phil was another of the Hardys’ closest friends, and a wizard with computers and electronics. “While Tony and I run around looking for the white van these thugs have been driving. Right?”