Strategic Moves

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Frank handed the lighter to Joe. "I think you'll find the inscription very enlightening."

  Joe frowned at Frank's pun. He turned the lighter over and read the inscription: ** 'Chris St. Armand, Ne Plus Ultra.'"

  "Recognize the emblem?" Frank asked.

  Joe looked at the front of the lighter. A green shield with a blue cross in the center dominated the front of the lighter. Ne Plus Ultra was written in the horizontal band of the cross.

  "The Network emblem," Frank said. "Ate Plus Ultra, Latin for 'perfection.' The Network's motto."

  "St. Armand is a Network agent," Joe stated with disgust. "An old-looking student."

  "And a young-looking Network agent," Frank added.

  "We've been set up, brother," Joe announced.

  The van came to an abrupt halt. Joe heard large wooden doors being opened. Then the van moved forward slowly and stopped again. Joe heard a squeal as the doors were shut.

  The light in the van went out as the engine was shut off. The Hardys sat still and kept quiet, barely breathing.

  Joe could hear voices but couldn't distinguish any words. Suddenly the back door of the van flew open. A large spotlight filled the van with a blinding white light. Joe raised one hand to shield his eyes against the bright assault of the spotlight.

  Moments later two large shadowy figures stepped in front of the spotlight and approached the van.

  Joe was set to leap from the van and attack when he saw the silhouettes of the small Uzis the two men held at waist level. Their snub-nosed barrels were aimed at Joe and Frank.

  Chapter 8

  "Are these the two young Americans you wanted?" Commander Collins asked as he stepped between the men with the Uzis and into the spotlight.

  "Yes. These are the two," replied a familiar voice.

  "The Gray Man!" Frank shouted, and he and Joe hopped from the van.

  "Frank, Joe," Ziggy called out as he ran up to his friends. He was still dressed in his sculling outfit.

  "Ziggy!" Joe replied. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes." Ziggy broke into a wide smile, as though he were greeting long-lost friends. "Petra is here, too."

  Petra joined the young men. "Mr. Gray brought me here," she explained. She looked tired but no longer as pale and scared as when Frank had last seen her.

  "Speaking of Mr. Gray," Frank said. He looked past the two men with the Uzis and into the darkness behind the spotlight. "You want to explain what's going on?"

  The Gray Man walked slowly up to the teenagers. "I suppose I owe you an explanation."

  "That would help," Joe said, sarcasm etched in his voice.

  "Perhaps I should." Fitzhugh, Frank's fencing instructor, stepped into the spotlight.

  Frank could see another man standing behind the spotlight but did not recognize him.

  "You're a part of this?" Frank asked Fitzhugh, watching as the unidentified man moved toward the group.

  "Worse than that," Fitzhugh answered. "I'm the agent in charge."

  "Agent in charge?" Frank didn't like the sound of that.

  "Let me reintroduce myself," Fitzhugh said to Frank. "David Fitzhugh, vice-commander, Her Majesty's Counterintelligence, retired."

  "Britain's version of the Network," the Gray Man said.

  "As well as dean of continuing and special education, Oxford University," Fitzhugh added.

  The unidentified man stood next to Fitzhugh. The bright light bounced off his white hair and created a halo effect around the man's head. He was as tall as Frank, and his suit was expensive.

  Frank stared at the third man. "And you are ... ?"

  "Nikolai Krylov, Soviet embassy, London," the man said without hesitation in near-perfect English.

  "We met earlier," Joe said with a frown. Krylov had been the third man in the blue sedan.

  "KGB?" Frank said.

  "Very perceptive, Mr. Hardy," Krylov said with a smile.

  "You think we could shut off that light?" Joe asked, raising his hands in front of his eyes.

  "Yes," Fitzhugh said. "I suggest we move this meeting into the house."

  Fitzhugh nodded. The two men with the Uzis walked to the barn doors and pushed them open. One man flipped off the spotlight.

  "This way, please," Fitzhugh said, motioning to the teenagers.

  They walked out into a well-kept barnyard. Frank could now see that they were about half a mile from the main road. Although the place gave the appearance of a farm, Frank noticed that it lacked farm equipment and animals.

  They walked silently toward a small house, whose white paint looked fresh. The lawn in front of the house was also well-maintained.

  The front room into which they walked was unfurnished, and with the four teenagers and three agents, it was crowded. They all remained standing. Commander Collins and the others remained outside.

  "Now that the introductions are out of the way," Joe said, "would someone mind explaining what this is all about?"

  Krylov thrust his hands into his pockets. "This is about the safety and security of the world, my young American friend."

  "We haven't established the fact that we're friends," Joe replied evenly.

  Krylov chuckled. "No. We haven't. And perhaps we could have handled this a little better, but we," - he nodded at the Gray Man and Fitzhugh - "felt it necessary to keep you, all four of you, uninformed as long as possible."

  "What makes it necessary to tell us the truth now?" Frank asked.

  "The attempted kidnapping last night and the attempt on your lives this afternoon."

  "Our lives? Aleksandr was the target." Joe was incredulous.

  Krylov frowned. "Surely you do not think Aleksandr Dancek was the intended target of the gargoyle."

  "What?" Petra asked. "A gargoyle?"

  Joe looked into Petra's blue eyes. "One of the statues on top of the dorm building. It was loosened and pushed down by one of the men who tried to kidnap Ziggy last night."

  "Aleksandr was bringing us to you," Frank explained to Ziggy.

  "Why would the man try to kill Frank and Joe?" Ziggy asked Krylov.

  "Your two new friends helped you last night," Krylov replied. "They are in the way."

  "Whose way?" Frank asked.

  "In the way of the men who are trying to kidnap Pyotr," Krylov replied flatly.

  "That doesn't answer my questions." Frank returned Krylov's hard stare. "And it doesn't explain why three top secret agencies have suddenly become best friends."

  The Gray Man spoke for the first time since entering the house. "We received intelligence reports in Washington that your young friend was to be the target of a kidnapping."

  Frank sighed with impatience. "You're not telling us anything new."

  "You must realize," Krylov began, "that Pyotr is a national hero. If anything were to happen to him, the people of the Soviet Union, despite their newfound love for Western culture and ideas, would be very upset."

  "There are those elements," the Gray Man continued, "who would like nothing more than to slam the iron curtain shut once again."

  "And what better way to destroy the increasingly friendly relationship between the Soviet Union and the West than by kidnapping a young Russian hero on British soil?" Fitzhugh added.

  "And the attack on Petra this morning?" Joe blurted out. "Is anyone concerned with her safety?"

  "What attack?" the Gray Man asked, agitated.

  "It was an accident, not an attack." Fitzhugh explained about the fencing foil and the transformer box. "The student responsible for the accident has been dismissed from the school."

  The Gray Man's eyes widened, and he fired back a question: "Why wasn't I informed?"

  "I was told about it," Krylov answered, "and I agreed with Fitzhugh. It was an accident."

  The Gray Man locked eyes with Krylov, and Frank could feel the tension between the two agency directors.

  If the Gray Man didn't know about the accident, Frank thought, perhaps he doesn't know about Chris St. Armand or the Network cigarette
lighter. The lighter suddenly felt conspicuous in Frank's pocket.

  "Why didn't you just assign a couple of agents to escort Pyotr and Petra around Oxford?" Joe asked.

  "We did. Two of our best. Aleksandr and Katrina Dancek," Krylov answered.

  "What?" Ziggy all but shouted. "We have been chaperoned by KGB agents?"

  "Is it so terrible for your government to want to protect you?" Krylov asked in a patronizing tone.

  "No, but we do not need the secret police to watch out for us," Petra said angrily.

  "I don't know what glass bubble you've been living in," the Gray Man said to Ziggy, "but the world isn't as sugar-coated as you would like to believe."

  "Her Majesty's government would not have permitted the Zigonevs to participate in the International Classroom without certain assurances and assistance from the Soviet government," Fitzhugh added.

  Krylov cleared his throat and smiled at the twins. "You would not have been allowed to leave the Soviet Union unless we were assured that you would be safe."

  "You haven't done a very good job," Frank said.

  Krylov's smile dropped to a frown. His dark eyes became slits of anger.

  "I think what Frank means," the Gray Man interjected, "is that he'd feel better if we would let him and Joe in on our plans."

  That's not what I meant, Frank thought, but he understood that the Gray Man was only trying to lessen the tension that had slowly been reaching the boiling point the past few minutes. Frank didn't like loose ends, he didn't like sloppy detective work, and he was not impressed with the three agencies' handling of the operation.

  "Right," Frank agreed.

  The Gray Man shifted his weight. "At first, we thought the Assassins were behind the reports we received in Washington."

  "What made you change your mind?" Frank asked.

  "The man you helped capture at Brasenose," Fitzhugh answered, "is not a member of the Assassins or any other terrorist group that we are aware of."

  "A new terrorist outfit," Frank suggested.

  "Maybe," the Gray Man said with a shrug.

  "To be perfectly honest," Fitzhugh sighed, "we are puzzled."

  "Who is the man you arrested?" Frank asked.

  "A local petty hood named Howard Markham," Fitzhugh responded. "Until last night, he was more of a nuisance than a real threat."

  "And what about his partner, the younger man?" Ziggy asked.

  "Same thing," Fitzhugh replied. "They are both on their way to London for interrogation."

  Frank decided to shift gears. He was sure that there was more to the kidnapping than they were letting on.

  "What's so important about the communications linkup Mr. Zigonev is working on?" Frank asked casually.

  Krylov choked and coughed. His dark eyes glanced from Gray to Fitzhugh with a nervous twitch. Then he said, "We cannot divulge classified information."

  But Frank had already gotten the answer he wanted: the communications link had something to do with the attempt to kidnap Ziggy.

  "What do we do now?" Petra asked, concern in her voice.

  "It is best that we all act as though nothing has happened," Krylov said. The incident at Brasenose had nothing to do with the International Classroom or with Pyotr."

  "I can put a security blackout on the press by using the national security act," Fitzhugh said.

  "No," Krylov said, shaking his head. "The British press will know something is afoot if you do that. They will alert their American colleagues, and the American press cannot be silenced by British paranoia."

  "I don't like it," the Gray Man said. "Pyotr ought to remain in a safe house, under cover, until we discover who it is that wants to kidnap him."

  "No," Krylov said with conviction. "His sudden disappearance would arouse suspicion."

  The Gray Man raised his eyebrows at Krylov. Frank could tell the American agent was trying to control his temper.

  Gray turned to Frank. "Can you two watch over them?"

  "Yes," Frank replied without hesitation.

  "We couldn't do any worse than you three have done so far," Joe added.

  "I still don't like it," Gray huffed.

  "You will see, my friend," Krylov said, as though he were talking to an underling. "We will capture our villains."

  "At what price?" Frank asked. He didn't like Krylov's patronizing attitude or the way the older Soviet agent was bossing the others.

  "What do you mean?" Krylov returned, staring darkly at Frank.

  "Why are you so insistent that Ziggy and Petra remain in the open?" Frank watched closely for a reaction from Krylov but saw none.

  "It is best this way," the veteran spy replied evenly.

  "For whom? For you? You're using two Russian teenagers as bait to lure this new terrorist group out in the open," Frank said bluntly.

  "Frank!" the Gray Man cried out.

  Krylov hesitated, then laughed. "You have seen too many American spy movies, my friend."

  Krylov took a deep breath, smiled, and spoke in a soft voice that carried the weight and authority of an experienced spy who had survived the cold war.

  "The world is not yet stable. If anything happens to Pyotr Zigonev, the Russian people will demand immediate and possibly irrevocable action. Our countries will once again be in a perpetual state of nuclear paranoia. The slightest nervous twitch from either side could send the world up in a nightmare of nuclear war."

  Chapter 9

  They rode in separate cars back to Brasenose: Frank and Joe with Fitzhugh and the Gray Man, Ziggy, and Petra with Krylov.

  Frank mulled over Krylov's doomsday prophecy of increased world tensions if anything happened to Ziggy. Or is Ziggy the real target? Frank asked himself. Just who is Sergei Zigonev, what is this classified communications link, and why is it so important?

  Once back at Brasenose, Fitzhugh wanted to assign Aleksandr to Ziggy's room and move Frank out, but Joe was able to persuade the British agent to move Joe into the room and leave Aleksandr in his own room, next door. That way, Frank and Joe would be there if Ziggy needed protection.

  A reluctant Fitzhugh had a cot moved into the room.

  They had arrived back at Brasenose at five-thirty. Fitzhugh had provided a weak but adequate reason for the absence of the four teenagers from their afternoon classes: they had been special guests of Fitzhugh for an afternoon tea.

  The shattered gargoyle had been cleaned up, and the college had returned to normalcy.

  The four teenagers ate in the Brasenose dining hall, joined by Katrina and Aleksandr. Aleksandr's face was bruised from his spill on the sidewalk, and he avoided looking at Frank and Joe during the meal.

  Joe was disappointed when Petra announced that she was going to turn in early. She and Katrina excused themselves and left the Hardys, Ziggy, and Aleksandr at the dining table.

  "I think Joe likes my sister," Ziggy mused, nudging Frank to look at his brother.

  Joe suddenly realized that he was staring after Petra and turned his gaze to his cup of tea.

  "You do realize, Joe," Frank teased, "that you two live half a world apart, not to mention that she's got more class than you."

  "Knock it off," Joe fired back, frowning.

  Ziggy laughed.

  "Where did you go after the accident?" Frank asked Aleksandr.

  "That is none of your business," Aleksandr replied sternly.

  "Got something to hide?" Joe added, lifting his eyes from his tea to stare at Aleksandr.

  Aleksandr returned Joe's steely stare but said nothing.

  "Why were you listening at the door last night?" Frank continued.

  "I did not know you and did not trust you," Aleksandr replied. He lifted his glass and drank some water. "Now that I do know you, I still do not trust you."

  "Why?" Ziggy spoke up, angry. "What have they done? Joe saved your life."

  "They are Americans," Aleksandr spit out. "That is enough."

  "That might have been a good enough answer five years ago," Ziggy shot
back. "But it is not good enough now. Your attitude is as archaic as the Berlin Wall."

  Aleksandr threw his napkin on the table. "The wall served a useful purpose." He rose and stormed away from the table, bumping into several empty chairs, nearly tipping them over.

  "Touchy," Joe said with a smirk.

  "He is living in the past," Ziggy said, looking down at the table. "He wants the iron curtain back. The gray matter between his ears is rusted iron, not brains."

  Frank laughed. Ziggy looked up, and the tension on his face melted into a smile.

  "Krylov said there was some dissent in your country over the reforms your government is implementing," Frank stated.

  "Yes, much more than you may realize. There has been talk of civil war." Ziggy picked up his tea and drank.

  "Is that why the communications link between the Soviet Union and the United States is so important?" Frank asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Ziggy smiled. "You must be a good chess player, Frank. You have an unnerving way of asking small questions to achieve big answers. However," Ziggy continued with a sigh, "I do not know what my father's negotiations involve. Excellent try, though." Ziggy rose. "I need to shower."

  They walked in silence back to the second floor room. Frank stopped and knocked on Aleksandr's door, but no one answered. Frank wasn't so sure that the room was empty, though.

  Ziggy took a shower while Joe made up his cot.

  "This cot isn't going to be comfortable," Joe remarked. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his sheet. "You going to explain it to me or what?"

  "What are you talking about?" Frank asked. He lay on his bed, his legs crossed, his hands locked behind his head.

  "Why didn't you mention the lighter to the Gray Man?" Joe stared at his brother.

  Frank continued to lie on the bed. He took the lighter from his pocket. It was an old silver Zippo. He flipped the lid open, flicked the roller with his thumb, and watched as a flint spark set the alcohol-soaked wick on fire. He let it burn, then flipped the lid shut.

  "I think the Gray Man is lying. Or he knows more than he's willing to tell," Frank said, returning the lighter to his pocket.