The Secret of the Soldier's Gold

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “I hope you’re happy now,” Isabel said. She started to walk away, heading back toward Senhora Bragança’s house as if that was the most normal thing in the world to do. Paulo grabbed her by the arm, though. “Nice try,” he said, “but we have other plans for the three of you.”

  “What?” Frank demanded.

  “Weren’t you listening earlier?” Rafael said.

  “Yeah!” Antonio said. “If that suitcase can stay buried for over sixty years, there’s no reason why the three of you can’t stay buried just as long.”

  “I don’t care what that person told you,” Isabel protested. “I had dinner with my father and told him where I was going.”

  “Start walking back to the pit,” Antonio said.

  It was useless to try anything in the alley, Frank decided, because they were too far away from the house. The area where the suitcase had been buried still wasn’t very close, but at least it was on the grounds. They had to hope for a miracle.

  For almost the first time in his life Joe could think of no way out of their current predicament. He couldn’t imagine what lay ahead of them. He would have to submit to either being buried alive or, if he cried out, being shot by one of the de Feira brothers. These seemed to be his only alternatives.

  But just as they reached the rosebushes Isabel fell down and started screaming, “My stomach! My stomach! Oh, please help me. It hurts so much!”

  Frank and Joe took up the cry. “You’ve got to do something. This has happened to her before. It’s her appendix!”

  It was obvious that the de Feira brothers were totally unprepared for something like this.

  At that moment Isabel let out a blood-curdling scream so loud that it caused both Frank and Joe to wince.

  Suddenly lights flicked on at the back of Senhora Bragança’s house and voices cried out in Portuguese.

  Isabel screamed again, this time even louder—and Frank thought that would have been impossible.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Antonio said.

  He started running back toward the rear of the yard. Paulo and Rafael were right behind him.

  Isabel jumped up. “How was that?” she said.

  Frank looked at her. “Very convincing,” he managed to say. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Perfectly,” Isabel said. “But I don’t want to be caught trespassing. Come on!”

  Voices from Senhora Bragança’s house were getting closer.

  “They’ve called the police,” Isabel translated. “They’re also trying to find the dogs.” She was leading them along the far side of the fence—not away from Senhora Bragança’s house but toward it.

  “Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Frank asked.

  “Trust me,” Isabel said. “This is just like a movie I was in once.”

  After a few minutes Joe relaxed because, as Isabel had predicted, the voices were getting less and less distinct.

  “Now, this is the hard part,” Isabel said. “We’re going to have to escape through the house.”

  Frank stopped. “Are you nuts? They’ll catch us for sure.”

  “I think Frank’s right,” Joe said. “We need to get out another way.”

  “Look, guys, think about it,” Isabel said. “Where are all the people looking for us?”

  Frank and Joe looked at each other.

  “Outside,” Frank said.

  “Exactly,” Isabel said. “So doesn’t it stand to reason that we should be inside?”

  Joe shrugged. “Well, it’s hard to argue with that, I guess.”

  Isabel smiled. “We’ll go out the front door like any other guest,” she said.

  With that she led the Hardy boys up the rear steps of the house and through the back door.

  No one was around, although they could hear voices somewhere in the house.

  “From here on it’s just guesswork,” Isabel said. “If anyone stops us, we’ll just act as if we know what we’re doing.”

  Slowly and stealthily they made their way, from room to room, through Senhora Bragança’s house. They ducked in and out of rooms all the way to the front of the house, and only once they narrowly missed being seen by a member of the household staff.

  Finally they reached the front door. Just as they exited the house, though, they heard a car squealing out of the de Feiras’ driveway across the street—and they ducked behind some shrubs so that the de Feiras wouldn’t see them.

  When the taillights had disappeared, Isabel said, “Now then, we need to get out of here and start making plans to get that gold back!”

  11 Danger on the River

  * * *

  Joe looked over at the de Feira house. “There are no lights,” he said. “I guess everyone was in the car.”

  “They may have abandoned the house and gone into hiding,” Frank suggested, “now that they have all that gold.”

  “Why would they abandon their house?” Isabel said.

  “It’s falling apart,” Joe told her. “They probably haven’t done anything to it in years.”

  “It’s kind of sad, really,” Isabel said. “Getting all that gold is probably the only thing Senhora de Feira has had on her mind for over sixty years.”

  “It probably started right after Frau Rilke told her about it,” Frank said.

  “You know,” Joe said, “that’s going to make it even harder for us to find the gold.”

  “Right,” Frank said. “There’s no telling where the de Feiras were headed.”

  Just as they reached Isabel’s car several police cars passed them on the street and converged in Senhora Bragança’s driveway.

  “They probably just discovered the hole,” Frank said. “If Senhora Bragança puts two and two together, she’ll know it has something to do with the story we told her about Frau Rilke.”

  “And she’ll probably tell the police that two American teenagers came by the other day, asking her suspicious questions,” Joe added.

  “That means the police may be waiting for us when we get back to the hotel,” Frank said.

  “Maybe not,” Isabel said as she started the car and made a U-turn to head back toward central Lisbon. “For all we know, someone at Senhora Bragança’s house might have spotted the de Feiras leaving the grounds, then saw their car speeding away. They may think they’re the ones responsible for the hole in the backyard.”

  “That would be too good to be true,” Joe said. “To have the Lisbon police do all of our work for us!”

  “Yeah, but if the Lisbon police find the de Feira brothers,” Frank reminded him, “they’ll also find the suitcase with the gold bars, and that won’t help Frau Rilke at all.”

  “You’re right,” Joe said. “I doubt if we could just walk into the police station and say, ‘Excuse me, but that suitcase belongs to a friend of ours in the United States. We’re here to claim it for her.’”

  “I see what you mean,” Isabel said. “That wouldn’t work.”

  “We just have to hope that the police aren’t looking for us,” Frank said, “and that if they are looking for the de Feiras, they don’t find them.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. This is probably at the bottom of the department’s list of things to investigate,” Isabel said. “Unfortunately the Lisbon Police Department is like police departments all over the world: overworked!”

  • • •

  Isabel dropped the Hardy boys off in front of the hotel and told them she’d call the next day after her audition for a Portuguese soap opera. “I’m very excited about it,” she said. “I’m trying out for the role of a really bad person.” She laughed. “Of course, it’ll call for a lot of acting, as it’s totally out of character for me!”

  Frank and Joe grinned.

  “Thanks for all you did for us tonight, Isabel,” Frank said.

  “Yeah—we appreciate the help,” Joe added.

  “Well, it’s not over yet, guys,” Isabel said. “I’ll start thinking about where the de Feiras might have taken the gold
.” She raised an eyebrow. “Being the daughter of a high-ranking police officer has its perks,” she added. “I do have my own contacts within the police department!”

  “We need all the help you can give us, Isabel,” Joe said. “We just don’t want to return to Bayport empty-handed. Frau Rilke and her family are really counting on us to return the family fortune to them.”

  As the Hardy boys headed into the hotel they saw their parents and Aunt Gertrude coming out of the hotel newsstand.

  “Postcard time,” Joe whispered to Frank. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Hello, boys! I was wondering if you were back yet,” Mrs. Hardy called out. When she reached her sons, she added, “After the movie we went to a wonderful little restaurant for a late supper. We weren’t tired yet. I guess we’re still on Bayport time.”

  “Actually, we just got here,” Frank said. “Isabel brought us back.”

  “What a nice young lady she is,” Aunt Gertrude said, winking at the boys.

  Frank and Joe smirked in return.

  “What did you just buy, Mom?” Joe asked.

  “Postcards,” Mrs. Hardy replied. “Your aunt and I promised a lot of people we’d send them a card from Lisbon, and if we don’t get them mailed tomorrow, we’ll beat them back to Bayport.”

  Joe winked at Frank.

  “Did everything go all right?” Mr. Hardy asked, giving his sons a knowing look.

  With their eyes Frank and Joe told him that it didn’t, but so as not to worry his mother, Frank said, “As well as could be expected. We need to talk to you about it later.”

  “Okay,” Fenton Hardy said. “Let me take a shower and then I’ll come over to your room while your mother and aunt write their postcards.”

  While they were waiting for their father, Frank and Joe got ready for bed.

  By the time Mr. Hardy finally arrived, Joe had already dozed off and Frank was yawning—so Frank gave his father an abbreviated account of what had happened at Senhora Bragança’s house.

  “I don’t really like this, Frank,” Mr. Hardy said. “Those people are dangerous.”

  “We know that now, Dad,” Frank said. “We made the same mistake a lot of people in Europe made when Hitler’s thugs first started causing trouble.” He shook his head. “We thought they weren’t serious.”

  Mr. Hardy nodded. “We can’t allow that to happen again.” He stood up. “Before you guys do anything else, let me do a little checking around,” he said. “I guess I should have done this in the first place, but I honestly thought it would be better to locate the gold first, then talk to the authorities about how to get it out of the country.”

  Joe turned over. Mr. Hardy grinned at Frank. “You’d better get some sleep,” he said.

  “Okay, Dad,” Frank said. “See you in the morning.”

  • • •

  When the telephone rang the next morning, Frank answered it still half-asleep. So Mr. Hardy said, “Well, I guess that means you guys won’t be joining us for breakfast.”

  “I’m more tired than I thought I would be,” Frank said, “and Joe’s still conked out. I guess the answer is no.”

  “Well, just remember what I said about the gold,” Mr. Hardy reminded him. “Don’t do anything else about it until I’ve done some work. Okay?”

  “No problem, Dad,” Frank said. “In fact, I had a dream about renting a motorboat and taking it out on the Tagus River today—just like we’ve done in Barmet Bay back home.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Mr. Hardy said. “I noticed several different boats on the river the other day. I imagine it would be a nice way to see the city.”

  “Great,” Frank told him. “Enjoy breakfast!”

  • • •

  After Frank hung up he called the concierge and asked him about renting a motorboat for a cruise on the Tagus River later in the day. It turned out that the travel bureau in the hotel could take care of all the arrangements for them.

  “All you’ll need to do is stop by on your way out and sign an agreement,” the concierge said. “It’s simple—people do it all the time.”

  By the time Frank and Joe were ready, so was the motorboat.

  The woman in the travel bureau told them that it would be easiest to take a taxi to the docks where they’d be getting the boat.

  “You could take the bus, but why would you want to? A taxi is so much faster,” she said.

  “I guess she assumes that if we have enough money to rent a motorboat, then we must have enough money to pay for a taxi,” Joe said as they left the hotel and indicated to the doorman that they needed a taxi.

  “She’s right, though, because we’re on a definite schedule,” Frank said. “The first time we went to Belém, I didn’t want to call attention to our arrival—and we had all the time we wanted.”

  It only took the doorman a minute to get a taxi for the teens. As Joe handed a tip to the doorman, he noticed two men push a couple of women out of the way and jump into one of the taxis behind them. “Frank, don’t look now, but I think we have company,” he whispered as the taxi pulled out into traffic.

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked.

  Joe told his brother what he had seen. “I don’t think they were just being rude, either,” he said, “because they had on the same kind of clothes as what the de Feira brothers wear—different colors but same style.”

  “Why would anybody be following us now?” Frank said. “We don’t have the gold anymore.”

  “That’s what I’m wondering,” Joe said.

  “Well, they can follow us for all I care. They’re not going to get anything,” Frank said. “All I’m interested in now is taking a motorboat out on the Tagus and seeing the sights.”

  Joe positioned himself in the back of the taxi so that he could look in the driver’s rearview mirror. After they had driven several blocks and made a few sharp turns, the taxi with the two men was still behind them.

  “They’re not giving up easily, Frank,” Joe said.

  “Too bad,” Frank said. Inwardly, though, he was a little worried. What if they follow us onto the river? he wondered. What then? “I’m not going to be intimidated,” he said, “but we should both be alert just in case.”

  Finally the taxi pulled up in front of the Cais do Sodré tram station, which also served as a port for ferries heading to Cacilhas. “You get the motorboats just to the left,” the driver said. “You’ll see the signs inside.”

  “Thanks,” Frank said, handing over the amount of money on the meter plus a tip—even though he had been told that taxi drivers in Portugal didn’t expect tips.

  As Frank and Joe exited their taxi, the taxi that had been following them drove past. Frank and Joe watched it disappear down the street.

  “I guess they’re not going to hassle us after all,” Joe said. “They probably just wanted to know where we were going.”

  “I still don’t understand this,” Frank said. “We don’t have the gold. Why are they following us?”

  As they started into the station Joe said, “Maybe they don’t know that the de Feiras stole the gold from us, Frank.”

  “Well, if they know about us, wouldn’t they also know what the de Feira brothers did?” Frank said. “Information like this seems to have a way of getting broadcast to all of the criminal elements in a country. They have quite a network.”

  Joe shrugged. “It looks like we’re not going to have to worry about them now, anyway,” he said.

  Once inside the station, they saw a sign that pointed to the motorboat rental office. The man behind the counter was quite friendly, spoke English, and had the boat keys waiting for the teens.

  “Your American marine operator’s licenses and your insurance coverage are also good in Portugal,” he said, “and since this is an American motorboat, I’m sure you’re quite familiar with how to operate it. It’s company policy, however, that I explain everything about the boat to you—and also give you information about the other boat traffic and the currents on the Ta
gus.”

  “We have a boat just like this back in Bayport,” Joe told him, “but we certainly understand your company’s policy.”

  The motorboat was berthed at the end of the pier and looked as though it had been well cared for.

  “I’m glad we decided to do this, Frank,” Joe said. “We need to take some mental space from that case.”

  The man kept the instructions at a professional level, given what Joe had told him about their motorboat back in Bayport. After Frank and Joe both took a look at the navigation map of the Tagus and asked several questions about the river, Frank saw the man relax noticeably. He was clearly convinced that he didn’t need to worry about the two teenagers bringing the boat back safely.

  The man headed back up the dock, saluted to the Hardy boys, and turned back to the rental office.

  Joe started the engine, backed the motorboat out of its berth, and headed out onto the Tagus.

  Their plan was to go upriver as far as the new Ponte Vasco da Gama, then back down the Tagus under the Ponte 25 de Abril, and as far as Belém.

  “This is easy,” Joe said. “These different-colored buoys will keep us from getting into trouble with the rest of the boat traffic.”

  “Ah, this is the life, isn’t it?” Frank said. He had sat down in the seat next to Joe, laced his fingers together behind his head, and leaned back.

  “You’re telling . . .,” Joe started to say, when they heard a cracking sound. Suddenly the boat’s windshield shattered. “What the . . .”

  Frank turned around. Behind them they saw another motorboat with two men in it—and it was gaining speed. One man was driving the boat and the other was aiming a rifle in their direction.

  “Somebody’s shooting at us, Joe!” Frank said.

  12 Where Is Frau Rilke’s Gold?

  * * *

  “Quick, Frank—look at that navigation map!” Joe shouted. “I think there’s another dock up the river. We need to head for it ASAP!”

  Frank leaned down to pick up the navigation map just as a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped to the floor. “Joe, you need to start moving the boat in a zigzag,” he said. “If you don’t, one of those bullets is going to hit its mark.”