“What happened to you guys?” Ray asked as the Hardys joined them. “I saw you running toward the woods.”
“We tried to run down the archer,” Joe explained. He and Frank told Ray where they’d been and what they’d seen.
“Where’s the fire-eater?” Frank asked. “Is he still around?”
“I saw him just a few minutes ago,” Kay said, scanning the small crowd. “There he is.” She pointed to a tall man with a long dark ponytail, still dressed in his orange and yellow costume, helping the firefighters drag the hose a few feet. The Hardys and the twins pitched in to help.
Finally the fire was out, and all the smoking embers were stamped into dust. Frank wandered over to talk to the fire-eater, and Joe and the Hortons walked to the maze to look over the damage.
“What a mess,” Alan said, riffling through the seared hedge. The outer wall of the maze was pierced with a huge burned-out hole, nearly three yards square. Joe and Ray helped him sift through some of the piles of ashes and charred branches. At last Alan stood up, shaking his head. He handed the bag containing the gilded gauntlet to Penny Horton and asked her to take it back to the house. Then he clenched his teeth and stormed to the platform where he’d given his earlier speech.
“Well, you all can see what’s happened here,” he said. “Someone has tried to destroy the maze and put a stop to all your fun. Well, we’re not going to allow that to happen!” The crowd that remained was smaller than the original one, but made nearly as much noise as they cheered him on.
“We’ll have to postpone the opening of the maze for a day or two until we can restore the wall with new hedges. But that doesn’t mean that all the festivities must be put on hold. Tomorrow morning the tournament matches, medieval games, and bazaar will go on as planned. Pass the word to those who have already left, get some sleep, and be back here tomorrow, ready to play!”
As the remaining onlookers filed off, Alan went over to talk to a village policeman, Officer Chester. Joe followed and listened to their conversation.
After Alan had given the officer all the information he had about the flaming arrow, Joe spoke up. “I think I saw someone going into the woods. He was big and was dressed in something flashy and silver, but I didn’t get much of a look at his face. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure it was a man.”
“Several people saw someone fitting that description disappear into the forest,” the officer informed him, nodding toward a couple helping Alan with the cleanup. “But, like you, no one saw the face or any other distinguishing features. You didn’t see the person’s hair, for instance?”
“No, I didn’t,” Joe answered.
“Well, then,” Officer Chester said, flipping his notebook closed. “That doesn’t give us much, now does it?”
Joe and Alan went back to help Ray, Kay, and the others clean out some of the burned remains. Frank joined them, and Kay questioned him as soon as he walked up. “I saw you talking to the fire-eater,” she said. “What was that all about?”
“Just a hunch,” Frank said. “He said he’s from Newfoundland. Has anyone found anything here?”
“No,” Alan answered. “It’s getting dark and I’m feeling a little jumpy. I think I’ll check the interior of the maze.”
“I’ll go with you, Dad,” Ray said.
“Do you need some help?” Joe asked.
“That depends,” Ray asked. “Are you still planning to compete in the maze scavenger hunt?”
“Sure,” Joe answered. “I’ve got my GPS primed and ready to go.”
“That’s what I figured,” Ray said, with a half smile. “So you’re not getting anywhere near the inside now. You’ll see it for the first time when all the other contestants do.”
“I get it,” Joe said. “Wasn’t thinking, I guess.”
While the others watched, Alan unlocked a small steel shed hidden in the hedges on the outside of the maze and stepped inside. He opened the combination lock of a small safe encased in cement and punched a few numbers onto a keypad inside the safe. An eerie glow appeared above the maze.
“Cool, isn’t it?” Kay commented as she followed Joe’s gaze to the glow over the hedges. “We’ve got lights embedded in the hedges every few yards. The maze isn’t fully lit, but you can still walk it at night and see where you’re going.”
Alan fiddled with the keypad another few seconds.
“He’s turning off the alarm system?” Frank guessed.
“Right,” Kay answered. “He’s not only got alarms at the gate, he’s got motion sensors scattered throughout the whole maze.”
Alan closed the shed door and he and Ray disappeared inside the hedge wall. Frank and Joe pulled on heavy cotton gloves that Kay handed them, and began running their hands slowly through the ashes. Kay followed their lead. Occasionally, someone would feel something weird and pull it out, but it was just a rock or a twig.
Then Frank’s fingers closed around something very straight and very smooth. “I’ve got something,” he announced. He pulled it out of the pile in a cloud of powdery gray ashes, and wiped it off on his jeans.
“That’s the arrow,” Kay said. “It has to be.”
‘Well, it’s definitely an arrow shaft,” Joe said.
“It’s iron or steel—iron, probably, because it looks really old,” Frank guessed. He polished it with a rag that Kay had handed to him. “Look, there’s something marked on here,” he said, pointing to the broken end. “A design of some kind. It’s like a family crest or a tribal insignia. But it’s so worn, it’s hard to make out.”
“There might be some words,” Kay said, looking closely. “Or maybe it’s just a picture.”
“Check that out,” Joe said, pointing to a series of lines. “What’s that?”
Frank spit on the rag and rubbed the arrow shaft with the wet cloth. “It looks like a B,” he said.
“It’s in Old English script,” Joe said, “like the kind of printing they did in medieval times.”
“You’re not going to believe this!” Ray yelled, bursting through the burned-out hole of the hedge. “Inside, in the center of the maze …,” he said, panting between words, “it’s trashed!”
3 The Hidden Passage
“How do you mean ‘trashed,’ exactly?” Frank asked.
“I mean someone’s been inside the maze,” Ray said. “And destroyed the center. The niches, the benches, the banner poles, the mailbox—everything’s been knocked over, dug up, or smashed.”
But how could someone get in without our knowing it?” Kay asked. “We installed that major security system.” She looked toward the shed where Alan had turned off the security alarm before he and Ray had gone into the maze.
“Well, it didn’t do me any good, did it!” Alan said. Each word exploded out of his mouth like a miniature firework.
“This is going to put off the opening even longer,” Kay said. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to clean it up,” Alan said, gazing through the opening at the next wall of the maze. “We’ll need two days, at least. Tomorrow at the games I can make an announcement about the maze opening. Not a word to anyone about the mess inside the maze,” he added, glaring at his children. “Understand? This doesn’t go beyond our family—and that includes you,” he said to the Hardys.
“What about the police?” Frank asked.
“I’ll report it eventually,” Alan said. “I need time to think first. And I don’t want the press to get a hold of this yet.”
“Do you have any idea who might have done it?” Joe asked Alan and Ray. “Did you see anything in there that could be a clue?”
“Nothing,” Ray said. “We’ll look again tomorrow morning.”
“I found something out here in the ashes,” Frank told Alan and Ray, pointing out the area where he’d found the faint design. He handed Alan the arrow shaft.
Alan rubbed his thumb against the worn lines and held up the shaft in the light from the still-burning torches. “This looks like a B,�
� he muttered. “Thanks—I’ll hold on to it.” Then he stuffed the arrow into his belt and stormed into the shed to turn on the alarm system. ‘Whatever it takes, this maze is going to open!” he declared, locking the shed door.
They hurried back to the house, where Penny had coffee and cherry cobbler waiting on the wood-and-steel island in the huge kitchen.
“I need to talk to you,” Alan said to Penny. “We’ll be in the library,” he said to the others, guiding Penny out of the kitchen.
The Hardys pulled some stools up to the island and pumped the twins for information.
“Your dad didn’t seem to be surprised to see the B on the arrow shaft,” Frank said. “Do you think he has a suspect in mind?”
“Vincenzo Blackstone,” the twins said in unison.
“He thinks he’s so much better than Dad,” Kay said. “But he’s not even close. Dad always beats him out—always has!”
“I take it he’s also a Mazemaster?” Joe guessed.
“He’d like to think so,” Ray said. “But it’s not true. He’s not half the designer Dad is—never will be.”
“He’s okay,” Kay said. “Dad has even thought that some of his mazes are pretty cool. But he’s such a—”
“Creep.” Ray finished his sister’s thought, then went back to eating his cobbler.
“Blackstone has a major temper,” Kay explained. “I mean, it’s really violent. We’ve only seen him a few times—at special maze exhibitions, and a few competitions. Once, we were at a gig in Scotland and Blackstone jumped one of the maze architects. They had this huge fight, and the other guy ended up in the hospital with a broken arm. Vincenzo paid a huge fine, but he wasn’t thrown out of the competition.”
“Who won?”
“Dad did, of course,” Kay said with a big grin.
“That’s not the only time Vincenzo’s been in trouble, though,” Ray pointed out. “It’s common knowledge that he once hired a bunch of guys to destroy a rival’s maze.”
“The other guy had won an Asian competition,” Kay added.
“Yeah, and Blackstone thought that he deserved to win instead,” Ray continued. “So he had the winner’s maze totally destroyed.”
“What happened?” Frank asked. “Was he arrested?”
“There wasn’t enough evidence to even hold him,” Ray explained.
“Do you think he’s here now?” Joe asked. “Here on Cape Breton Island? Would he come for the games and the opening of your dad’s maze?”
“Well, he sure wasn’t invited,” Kay said. “But that wouldn’t keep him from showing up.”
“Looks like we need to find out if he’s around,” Frank said, exchanging looks with Joe.
“You’re thinking the B on the arrow shaft might stand for Blackstone?” Joe asked.
“Makes sense to me,” Ray said, gulping down his coffee.
“What does this guy look like?” Frank asked.
“He’s kind of average,” Kay answered. “Medium height, medium weight. Dark hair and eyes.”
A picture of the burly figure running into the woods skittered through Joe’s mind. “Does he ever wear a costume at these tournaments—like armor or chain mail? Anything like that?”
“No way!” Ray said. “He never participates in jousting matches or anything like that. He’s only interested in mazes. He considers himself a real artist.”
“I consider him a snake,” Kay muttered, “and a common criminal. And I’m not the only one with that opinion.”
“The gauntlet that your dad has put up for the maze prize is so cool,” Joe said, changing the subject. He could see that Kay was getting really heated up.
“Definitely,” Ray agreed. “You can have a closer look tomorrow and even see how it fits.”
“It might give you a little extra incentive to win,” Kay added with a teasing smile.
“I’m surprised he’s giving away a family heirloom,” Frank said. “It’s something that’s been passed down in your family for centuries. And he’d just give it away like that.”
“He’s got tons of stuff like that,” Kay said. “We’ve got a barrel of gauntlets from our ancestors. Our family’s been collecting this stuff for centuries.”
“Yes, and we have crates and rooms full of other stuff,” Ray said. “Dad’s second obsession, after mazes, is medieval and renaissance heraldry. He loves all the legends and myths about knights and swashbucklers. And he’s added a lot of artifacts to the family heirlooms—suits of armor, jousting equipment, banners, and more.”
“Eventually he wants to build a museum to house all his stuff,” Kay pointed out. “Right now it’s in warehouses all over the island.”
“And in Halifax,” Ray added.
“And Scotland,” Kay said. “It’s probably the world’s largest private collection of medieval artifacts.”
“Outside of collections owned by various royal families, of course,” Kay pointed out.
It had been a late night, and everyone agreed that a hot shower and a warm bed was just what they wanted. With a pledge to the twins to find the person who had declared war on their father and his maze, the Hardys went upstairs to their guest suite.
“Vincenzo Blackstone is a perfect suspect,” Joe concluded. He and Frank had cleaned up, and then flopped into their beds in the large bedroom. “He’s got a track record of an attack on another maze—”
“Alleged attack,” Frank interrupted. “Ray and Kay said it was ‘common knowledge’ that he hired those thugs to do it. But there was no real evidence, no indictment, no trial.”
“Okay, okay,” Joe conceded. “You’re right. But it sounds as if the twins are not the only ones who think he was guilty. And they have seen his violent temper firsthand. Plus, he’s supposed to be jealous of other Mazemasters.”
“You heard his description, though,” Frank said. “He didn’t sound like the guy you saw running away after the flaming arrow was shot.”
“True, but I didn’t get a very clear view of him. And he could have been wearing a bulky costume. Lots of the spectators are completely disguised. Besides, if Blackstone was behind this, he could have hired someone else to shoot the arrow. He seems to have a history of hiring other people to do his dirty work—”
“Allegedly,” Frank interrupted again.
“All right, all right,” Joe said. “I still say we check him out first thing tomorrow. What did the fire-eater say? Any chance the archer could have used his stuff to light the arrow?”
“He didn’t think so,” Frank said. “He told me he’s really careful about his equipment because it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. It’s usually locked up tight, and he’s aware of its whereabouts all the time. When he finishes his act, his stuff gets locked up in his truck right away. That’s what he did tonight. He checked it right after the arrow was shot, just in case. But everything was secure.”
“Okay, then,” Joe said. “It’s on to Mr. Blackstone first thing tomorrow. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Frank said.
“First thing,” Joe repeated in a faint mumble.
The next thing Frank heard coming from his brother’s bed was a familiar snore.
Frank finally fell asleep, but not for long. He kept waking up, and wasn’t sure why. As he lay in the plush bed, he heard a low racket of weird noises. The Hortons had done a great job of restoring the ancient wood-and-stone mansion. But they hadn’t gotten rid of its groans and creaks and the tap-tap-tap sounds that interrupted the late night quiet.
As he continued trying to go back to sleep, Frank made a game of listening for a noise and then identifying its source. That’s the wind moving through the wooden beams, he guessed, after an eerie moaning noise. He heard a strange crackling, and then a sort of grinding crunch. He pictured the big stones that supported the lower half of the house. They’re scraping against one another as the house settles, he told himself.
It was silent for a few minutes, and Frank felt himself sliding back into sleep. But then a steady crea
k … creak … behind his headboard yanked him back awake. He sat up and stared at the wall over his shoulder, following the noise that moved back and forth behind the wall.
“Joe!” Frank whispered, looking over toward his brother’s bed. “Joe, are you awake?”
“Mglblffft.” Joe’s snore answered the question.
“Okay, guess the fun’s all mine this time,” Frank muttered. He slid out from under the covers and pulled on a pair of jeans over his sleep shorts. He stuffed his penlight into his pocket and crossed the room in his bare feet. A creepy tremor rippled through him. The room was unfamiliar, and filled with a dense darkness.
He reached the door and stretched out his hand for the slick brass doorknob. Clenching it firmly, he inched it around until he heard a tiny click.
The door opened to the faint yellow of the hall night-light. As air was pushed outward, dust particles swirled through the dusky amber glow. He peered into the hallway and strained to hear every sound. He looked back into the bedroom for a few seconds to get his bearings, checked where his headboard was, and then visualized how that matched up with the other rooms on the floor as he looked into the hallway.
The main hall was twenty feet wide and stretched at least sixty or seventy feet to a carved mahogany staircase winding down to the first floor. Several smaller corridors stemmed from the main hallway and seemed to lead to other wings of rooms.
“The room on the other side of my headboard has to be down that hall,” Frank told himself as he eyed the entrance to a nearby smaller corridor.
He stepped onto the carpet leading away from his room and ducked around the corner into the smaller passageway. The hall had no light of its own, and he had to make his way in the glow from the chandelier behind him.
There was only one doorway on the left, and he knew immediately that it led to whatever was on the other side of his bed. Frank turned the knob and opened the door to a medium-size room. It was very dark but not totally black, thanks to a faint light on the opposite wall. Shadowy legs paced slowly back and forth in the light.
No Way Out Page 2
