Meanwhile, Frank and Joe had arranged with their friends to carry out the sleuthing program.
“Okay,” said Chet, “but I think your scheme is pretty risky. Taffy Marr may have shadows following his men and they could be behind the other fellows and me.”
“We’ll just have to take that chance,” Biff had said.
The first night was spent along the waterfront where the Hardys were sure Anchor Pete would be stationed. Frank and Joe walked together at times, then would separate. They deliberately went into dark areas and deserted spots. No one bothered them and later their friends reported having seen nothing suspicious.
“Tomorrow night,” said Frank as the group separated, “we’ll try the high school and athletic grounds and football stadium.”
Again the boys were not disturbed and so far as they could judge were not followed.
“What’s next?” Biff asked.
Joe felt that perhaps Marr’s gang had learned the Hardys’ friends were helping them and suggested he and Frank try the sleuthing alone.
“Nothing doing,” Chet spoke up.
It was decided that the third night would be spent in the heart of town and would last only until just before midnight. It rained, but once more Frank and Joe led the way through dark streets and up and down deserted alleys. Finally, at ten minutes to twelve, they heard Biff whistle, Jerry give the sound of a hoot owl, and Chet yip like a dog.
“Quitting time,” Frank remarked.
“Yes,” Joe said. “Three nights of walking and not one thing happening. By this time Marr and the rest of his gang could be halfway around the world.”
Frank sighed from weariness and disappointment. “Let’s take a short cut across the square.”
They headed for the small park which lay in the center of Bayport. Various municipal buildings, including the town hall with its large illuminated clock, outlined the four sides.
Frank and Joe reached the square and took a diagonal path through it. The place seemed empty. Part way across, Joe suddenly said, “I just saw someone dodge behind that big tree ahead.”
“We’d better wait,” Frank answered.
The Hardys jumped back of a wide-trunked maple. When no one ventured toward them, the boys peered out, looking in opposite directions for a possible attacker. Seconds later there was a shuffling sound behind them.
“Look out!” a voice yelled.
Frank and Joe turned in time to see a masked sailor swinging a heavy anchor. He was about to crash it on Frank’s head!
CHAPTER XX
Captives’ Hideout
THE sailor’s diabolical move was accompanied by the midnight striking of the clock, shouts from all directions, and a prolonged war whoop that could come from no one but Chet Morton. As Frank and Joe dodged the anchor, footsteps pounded in their direction.
The boys grabbed the sailor and held him tightly. In a moment Chet, Biff, Jerry, and Mr. Hardy rushed up.
“Dad!” his sons cried. “When did you get home?”
“I haven’t been home yet,” the detective answered. “Came from the airport and dropped off Mr. Wright. As I rode past here, Chet hailed me.”
Frank stared at the other boys and said, “I thought you’d gone.”
“What do you take us for?” Chet asked. “Did you think we’d run out on you? We were planning to follow you to your house.”
All this time the sailor was wriggling, trying to break away from his captors.
Joe looked at him hard. “Hold still, Anchor Pete!” he ordered. “You’ll stay right here until the police come for you.”
“And his pal,” Biff put in. “I kayoed him back by that tree.”
The sailor’s jaw dropped. “Ben?” he said unbelievingly. “And you know my name too?”
“Sure,” Frank answered. “Your buddy Gross squealed.”
Meanwhile, Mr. Hardy had pulled his two-way short-wave set from a pocket and began talking to police headquarters. He told what had happened and asked that Keith and Mallett of the FBI be notified. The sergeant agreed and said he would send a squad car and four men to the park immediately.
While waiting, Frank and Joe asked the other boys to hold the captive sailor so they could go look at Biff’s victim. When Joe beamed his flashlight on the man’s face, he exclaimed, “This guy was in the cave with my kidnapper!”
The boys dragged the man back to where Anchor Pete was standing. The sight made the sailor blanch and the Hardys figured that maybe he was so frightened he might talk if quizzed.
“Pete, the game’s up!” Frank said. “You can tell us about Taffy Marr now.”
The sailor squinted his eyes and looked into space, as if trying to make up his mind what he should do. At last he said, “I’ll talk. Marr’s gone to make a pickup.”
“Diamonds? Electronic parts?” Joe asked.
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Along the bay. Maybe near the caves.”
At that moment the police car arrived and the two prisoners were put inside. Before the driver pulled away, he said to the Hardys, “Sergeant asked me to give you a message. Keith and his assistant Mallet are already in town. They’re at your house.”
The Hardys said good night to Chet, Biff, and Jerry, thanking them for their fine work.
“Any time,” the three responded.
On their way home Frank and Joe asked their father how he had learned about the gang. “I got a tip from a detective friend in Chicago, but he wasn’t sure just which gang it was.”
When the three reached home they found Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude with the two FBI agents. They had already briefed the men on the latest developments in the case.
“Our night’s work isn’t finished,” Frank spoke up. “We have a new lead to Taffy Marr.”
“We’ll go right after him,” Keith said.
“As soon as we put on dry clothes and get raincoats,” Mr. Hardy said.
Within ten minutes the five were ready to leave the house. Mr. Hardy drove his car. The gentle rain had now changed to a severe storm. Thunder boomed and vivid flashes of lightning streaked down from the black sky.
When the Hardys and the two agents reached the area of the caves, the detective parked and the searchers groped their way down the hillside.
“There’s a narrow path between the cliffs just ahead,” Frank told the others. “It leads directly down to the water.”
He led the way to the path and started down it. The teeming rain made the footing treacherous. Occasionally a flash of lightning illuminated the entire hillside, forcing the sleuths to crouch low to avoid detection.
During one of the flashes, Joe pointed to the shore below. “I saw a man standing down there! He could be Marr!”
The searchers continued to stalk their way along the steep path. When they were a little more than halfway to the bottom, Mr. Hardy signaled for his companions to stop.
“Keith, how about our sitting here for a while and seeing what that man is up to,” Mr. Hardy whispered. “This spot is a good vantage point, and there are enough bushes to provide cover.”
“Good idea.”
As they watched the shore below, the watchers suddenly saw a flashlight beam flicker on and off several times.
“Marr must be signaling to someone,” Mallett said.
“What’s that?” Keith snapped, pointing off into the distance.
There had been an answering gleam from far out in the bay. The light flashed once, twice, then out completely.
A few minutes later there was a flash of lightning that bathed the entire area in a livid glare. In that moment the boys and their companions caught a glimpse of a small rowboat making its way inshore across the choppy waters.
“Did you see that?” Frank cried. “Four men in that boat.”
“Let’s go down for a closer look,” Joe suggested.
They descended cautiously, edging their way through the bushes toward the spot where the man was standing. Through the storm they heard
a faint shout. Again the suspect signaled with his flashlight. He was guiding the boat inland.
As it drew closer, the sleuths heard the rattle of oarlocks and advanced a bit. Then, about forty feet away, they could clearly distinguish the waiting figure near the water’s edge.
The gangleader switched on his flashlight again. The rowboat was approaching. It rocked to and fro with its bow high.
“That you, Marr?” someone called.
“Yes, but shut up!”
At last they were going to confront Marr!
“We can’t risk letting those men get away,” Keith muttered. “When the boat lands, we’ll arrest them!”
The agents drew their pistols. With Mr. Hardy they poised for action. The detective ordered his sons to step back.
The rowboat was now in shallow water. Two of the occupants leaped out and pushed the craft onto the beach.
“This is it!” Keith declared. “Let’s go!”
He sprang from the bushes with Mallett and Mr. Hardy.
“Put up your hands!” the agent shouted. “And don’t make a move!”
There was a yell from the dim figures on the beach. One of the men was about to push the rowboat back into deep water, when Mallett fired two shots over his head.
As the agents ran toward the suspects, Frank caught sight of a man running down the beach and raced after him. Behind him he could hear shouts, another shot, then the sounds of a struggle.
The fleeing man plunged on into the darkness, but the young detective overtook him quickly. His quarry suddenly turned, crouched low, and as Frank came up he lashed out with his fists.
The boy dodged the blow, then grappled with the man. A clenched fist struck the young sleuth in the face and sent him sprawling.
Frank recovered instantly and scrambled to his feet. His opponent turned and fled. Again Frank overtook him and brought the man down with a flying tackle. In a tight clinch they rolled across the beach and into shallow water. Finally Frank managed to get in a blow that knocked his opponent unconscious. He dragged him out of the water.
Joe, meanwhile, had plunged knee-deep into the water and grabbed a man who was trying to haul the boat away from shore. They lashed out at each other. Joe was knocked down. He struggled to his feet, choking and gasping, and followed his tall, muscular opponent onto the beach. The man aimed a blow, but Joe side-stepped it, then rushed in and drove his fists into the other’s body. The gangster grunted and doubled up with pain.
Joe noticed that Mallett was sprawled on the ground apparently unconscious and that Mr. Hardy and Keith were still battling two men.
Joe suddenly realized that Taffy Marr had escaped and was now rowing off in a sheet of rain.
“Marr is getting away!” he shouted.
“What!” Keith yelled. “And we don’t have a boat to go after him!” He fired a shot in the air, but the suspect did not halt.
Mallett recovered and got to his feet just as Frank arrived, shoving his prisoner ahead of him.
“Marr escaped in the rowboat!” Joe told his brother, and picked up the flashlight Marr had dropped. He directed its beam on the prisoners.
“I recognize three of these guys!” he exclaimed as Keith and Mallett handcuffed the men. “They visited Chris in the cave when I was there.”
They were frisked and bags of diamonds and small electronic equipment removed from their pockets.
“Where’d you get these?” Mr. Hardy asked.
“They’re legit,” one man said.
“We know you’re smugglers,” the detective said, “and we can trace these.”
“Okay. They were dropped to us off a ship. In this storm I didn’t see the name of it.”
“Where’s Marr going?” Frank asked one prisoner.
“You’re not gettin’ anything more out of us!”
“That’s not being smart,” Keith said. “After all, Marr left you behind to face the music. It might help you get off with lighter sentences if you cooperate.” Silence.
“Why don’t you tell us what you know?” Frank queried.
“I—I want to,” the man stammered. “But I’m afraid of—of the boss.”
“You mean Marr? Where is he?”
“I guess up on the north shore of Barmet Bay. Place called Rocky Point. Marr had me rent an old shack there. He uses it as a hideout.”
“Where’s Chris?” Joe questioned.
“Probably waiting for Marr.”
Mr. Hardy radioed Bayport Police Headquarters again and said they had captured more of the smugglers. The sergeant promised to notify the Harbor Police to pick them up.
“I hope they come soon,” Joe said. “We must go after Marr before he skips.”
The launch arrived in an incredibly short time and the prisoners were handed over. Then Frank said to the captain, “We may need you again soon. Up at Rocky Point.”
“Let us know,” the skipper said and chugged off.
The Hardys and the FBI agents climbed the cliff, then rode along Shore Road to Rocky Point. In this area the bluff was not so steep and the sleuths had no trouble descending it. They were just in time to see a man with a lantern meeting an arriving rowboat.
“That’s Chris!” Frank whispered.
“And Marr,” Joe added. “Let’s rush ‘em!”
“Not yet,” Keith said. “I have a tape recorder in my pocket. We may find their conversation useful.”
As Keith had hoped, the two smugglers talked freely.
“I guess now we clear out of Bayport for good,” Marr said. “Chris, when we get to Portland, you set up a whole new gang. Make friends with the crew of a new ship and pick out one like Beef Danion on the Rizzolo. Too bad to chuck him.”
“But, Taffy,” said Chris, “you goin’ to leave here without getting Wright’s secret radio? You said that if you used that, nobody could ever catch us. It would scramble messages among the gang and from ship to shore. And the dicks couldn’t interfere, or a bad storm stop your orders from reaching us.”
“I know,” Marr answered, “but right now our skin’s more important. Maybe I shouldn’t have hung around after I slugged Bickford. But I needed tonight’s haul.”
“What about your stealin’ Wright’s antique plane?” Chris asked.
Marr gave a sardonic laugh. “It served its purpose—kept Mr. Wright and Mr. Hardy away from here. But those kids, Frank and Joe, are pests. All the Hardys are too clever.”
The boys were smiling. Marr did not know that one of the secret radios was hidden in Wright’s plane, and now it had been recovered!
By this time Marr and Chris had reached the one-room shack and went inside. Again the boys wanted to rush the place, but their father held them back.
“You watch through that window,” he ordered.
Going off a little distance, the detective radioed the Harbor Police.
Then he and the FBI men got set to burst open the unlocked door. Inside, the smugglers were busily packing suitcases. They had stopped talking.
At a signal Keith opened the door and dashed into the room with Mallett and Mr. Hardy. Taken by surprise, Marr and Chris had no chance to put up any resistance and were handcuffed to await the Harbor Police. When Frank and Joe came in, they received looks of furious resentment from the prisoners.
Meanwhile, the smugglers’ tricky suitcases were examined. Many secret pockets and a false bottom were found, each containing a fabulous quantity of jewels and electronic equipment.
Joe broke the silence. “Wowee, these smugglers could have retired rich!” he remarked.
Presently the police arrived and the two men were taken away. Keith and Mallett went with them. As the launch departed, Frank and Joe realized that another mystery had also departed. They were to experience a “lost” feeling until their next case, While the Clock Ticked, came along.
On the way home, the boys and their father filled in the gaps of the present mystery. “Mr. Wright is very pleased with your work,” said Mr. Hardy, “but he’s ready to sell his
antique plane.”
“We know who will buy it,” Joe spoke up. “Cole Weber.”
“What about the special radio, Dad?” Frank asked. “Surely there’s more to it than what we know.”
Mr. Hardy chuckled. He did not answer directly and they guessed the secret was a highly classified one. Instead, he said, “Someday how would you boys like to own pocket radios that can pick up signals from outer space?”
“You mean that’s what Mr. Wright has done?” Joe cried out.
The detective gave his sons a broad wink.
What Happened at Midnight Page 11
