Daredevils

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Maybe we can check out his past, his background,” Frank offered.

  “How?” Terrence asked.

  Frank smiled at the computer.

  • • •

  For the next two hours Frank wielded the machine’s keyboard as if it were a sword. He made his way through the World Wide Web, searching for information on Antonio Lawrence. Frank looked into the local records of the various places Antonio had lived, but came up with nothing other than previous addresses, paid parking tickets, and one arrest for disorderly conduct with charges dropped.

  “We have nothing more than we did before,” Terrence said.

  “Research doesn’t always yield the results you want,” Frank stated.

  “You can say that again,” Mr. Hardy commented as he entered the den.

  “So, the sweep of the hobby stores came up empty?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Hardy replied. “There are just too many suppliers and too many buyers of radio-controlled equipment. After talking with some shop owners, we realized that pretty much any skilled hobbyist could have made the modifications to that plane that took out the hang glider.”

  “But the trip wasn’t a total loss,” said Brian McCauley as he entered the den carrying a large red-and-white box. “I see I’m not the only one who did some shopping. Nice computer.”

  “What do you have there, Dad?”

  “A remote-controlled replica of flying champ Scott Pellegrino’s Zano 2000.”

  “A what?” Frank asked.

  “A Zano 2000!” Joe was excited.

  “The very one flown by Pellegrino when he won the world championship. You like airplane racing, Joe?”

  “I love it,” Joe responded as he gazed at the pictures on the model’s box. “This is one fast, sleek aircraft. First time I saw it in action, I couldn’t believe the kind of acceleration and speed a propeller plane could generate.”

  Just then everyone heard the front door open.

  “Where is everybody?” Mrs. Hardy called from the hallway. The men all exited the den and joined her as she made her way to the kitchen.

  “Ah, the last of our investigators,” Mr. Hardy beamed. “Come up with anything?”

  “More than you, from the sound of that question,” Laura replied. She sat down at the kitchen table.

  “So spill, Mom,” Frank said. “Is Pam good for the crime?”

  “Most certainly not!” Laura exclaimed. “The only thing that girl is good for is a broken heart. Her own, most likely. She’s head over heels in love with Terrence. But she doesn’t know how to express herself in any other way than with noise and flash. She loves him—she doesn’t want to kill him.”

  Mrs. Hardy looked at Terrence. “You don’t have to date Pam if you don’t want to,” she said, “but be her friend. There’s more to her than you see.”

  “Unfortunately, that ‘more’ doesn’t get us any closer to who’s behind all this,” Brian McCauley said.

  “So what next?” Joe asked.

  Just then the phone rang. Terrence picked it up, and after listening for a few seconds hung up.

  “Good news or a threat?” Mr. Hardy asked.

  “Great news,” Terrence said. “Daredevil Fest is back on for tomorrow!”

  • • •

  The next morning the contestants gathered on the back lot of Mad Alliance Studios. There was a spectators’ grandstand set up at one end of the lot. The rest of it was set up as an obstacle course, complete with pylons, small ramps, gates, oil slicks, and speed bumps.

  “Wow, that’s some course,” Joe said to Terrence. “We’re driving sports cars?”

  “Better than that,” Terrence replied. He pointed to a warehouse at the far end of the course. The warehouse doors opened and two eighteen-wheel semi-trucks came rolling out.

  “Awesome!” Joe shouted.

  The first Daredevil Fest contestant to drive was Antonio. Both trucks were kept idling, but only one was driven at a time. This way the second truck could start immediately while the first truck was being refueled so that each racer would drive a vehicle with the same fuel weight, making race results more accurate.

  Antonio made a decent run, but his time was not spectacular. He missed one of the gates and was penalized, opening the door for the other contestants to move up in the standings.

  Terrence was up next. He began his run while Joe mounted the semi that Antonio had just used. He watched Terrence start out fabulously. Then he lost sight of the truck as it rounded the warehouse. That part of the course took the semi out of Joe’s sight for a minute.

  When the truck came into view, it was moving much faster than Antonio had been.

  Joe realized in a flash that the truck was moving too fast. Then he heard the semi’s airhorn blast. He couldn’t make out Terrence’s face inside the cab, but from the way the stuntman was laying on the horn, Joe knew that something was wrong. Very wrong, Joe realized, as the truck gained speed and headed straight for the grandstands!

  11 Smash-Up Derby

  * * *

  “All right,” Joe said out loud. “Now even I want Terrence to quit Daredevil Fest!” Joe squinted so he could bring the stuntman’s face into focus.

  No steering, Joe guessed, and no brakes.

  Terrence’s eighteen-wheeler was still on a course headed straight for the grandstand.

  “Clear out!” Frank Hardy yelled. He began to scramble off the grandstand, prompting other spectators to leave their seats as well.

  “Come on! Move, move, move!” Mr. Hardy yelled, taking up his son’s call. The spectators all began to move. Some ran from the grandstands. Others leaped off the side, not even worrying about the short drop to the ground.

  Confident that everyone was clear, Mr. Hardy and Frank ran, just as Terrence’s truck smashed through the iron and aluminum structure and veered off away from the grandstand.

  Meanwhile, Joe Hardy had thrown his eighteen-wheeler into gear. The semi lurched forward, slowly picking up speed as Joe worked the truck’s gears.

  As he had done with the hang glider, Joe quickly figured a possible intercept angle from where he was to where he could deflect Terrence’s truck. Still, crashing two eighteen-wheel trucks together was not what Joe had in mind.

  I need to be more subtle, Joe thought as he swung his truck parallel to Terrence’s vehicle.

  Joe jerked the wheel and bumped Terrence’s truck. He did it again and again, using the gentle nudging to cut the out-of-control semi’s speed.

  This isn’t working fast enough, Joe said to himself. He shot a glance at Terrence, hoping the stuntman had a fresh idea.

  Terrence pointed. Joe followed his finger and saw that Terrence was indicating a large concrete building dead ahead.

  Well, crashing his truck into the concrete would stop it, Joe thought. Probably kill T, but it would stop the truck.

  “I hope there’s a second part to your plan!” Joe shouted even though he knew Terrence couldn’t hear him over the roaring engines.

  With both trucks traveling over forty miles per hour, Joe violently jerked the wheel of his vehicle and smashed it into the other semi. The jolt was insufficient to alter Terrence’s course. He was still angled straight at the building.

  Joe knew how desperate Terrence was when he saw him open the driver’s-side door of his speeding truck and climb out of the cab.

  Where is he going? Joe thought in disbelief. Then he caught on to Terrence’s plan.

  Joe sped up and closed the distance between the two vehicles once more. He maneuvered his truck so that his front end was just short of Terrence’s driver’s-side door as the semis ran parallel to each other.

  “Now would be good!” Joe shouted. He wasn’t certain that Terrence heard him, but at that precise moment Terrence did propel himself away from his eighteen-wheeler.

  The stuntman landed with a thud on the front hood of Joe’s truck.

  “Hang on!” Joe screamed. He violently jerked the wheel just in time to veer away from the conc
rete building. In his sideview mirror, Joe saw the now-empty semi smash into the concrete building. Both the truck and the wall crumpled, but at least the rampaging eighteen-wheeler had come to a complete stop and hadn’t burst into flames.

  Joe eased his truck to a stop. Terrence smiled at him through the windshield, and Joe smiled back. As they both got to the ground, Frank, Mr. Hardy, and Brian McCauley came jogging up.

  “What the Evel Knievel happened out there!” Brian McCauley shouted.

  “I’m not sure,” Terrence replied. “The run was going great when all of a sudden—pop—she jerked up from the ground a bit, like she’d hit something in the road.”

  “Did you hit something?” Frank asked.

  “Not that I saw,” Terrence replied. “But I was concentrating on the obstacles, so there could have been something in the road. In any case, after the jolt, I had no steering and no brakes! I couldn’t even downshift to cut speed.”

  “We figured as much,” Joe said.

  “I want to get a look at the truck,” Frank said. The older Hardy brother jogged over to the concrete building that had ended the eighteen-wheeler’s joyride.

  When he got to the scene, somebody else was already poking around under the vehicle.

  “Hey, what are you doing!” Frank asked.

  The man, startled by Frank, nearly bumped his head against the bottom of the truck as he stood up. He turned around and glared at Frank. The stranger was tall and painfully thin, and by Frank’s guess probably in his midforties. Frank immediately noticed a long thick scar that ran along the man’s cheek from his left eye to his jawbone. It was a glaring disfigurement, and Frank tried not to stare.

  “I should be asking you that question,” the man replied in a deceptively smooth voice. Frank was surprised that such a melodic voice came from such a hard-looking face.

  “I came to see what happened,” Frank said. “I work with the driver.”

  “So do I,” the man said. “I’m William Thompson, safety consultant for Daredevil Fest.”

  “Frank Hardy,” Frank said. He extended his hand in greeting, but Thompson did not remove either of his own hands from the pockets of the overalls he wore.

  “Well, Frank Hardy,” he said, “you have no reason to be here, so run along.”

  With no official reason to remain, Frank simply walked away.

  “Who’s that William Thompson guy,” he asked as he rejoined the group.

  “Slim Billy Thompson,” Brian McCauley said with a shake of his head. “Now, there’s a tragedy.”

  Frank, Joe, and Mr. Hardy gave the senior McCauley a questioning look, but he just cast his eyes down and stared at the ground deep in thought.

  “William ‘Slim Billy’ Thompson,” Terrence said, filling the silence. “He’s the safety consultant for this whole event.”

  “Well, he’s not doing all that great a job,” Joe stated flatly.

  “What’s his story?” Frank asked.

  “It’s a tough one,” Terrence began. Before he could say any more, though, he stifled himself.

  Slim Billy was approaching. The thin man gave the entire group a steely glare. He obviously had something serious on his mind.

  “Terrence,” he said tersely as he joined the gathering, “I’ve got some troubling news.”

  12 Safety First

  * * *

  “What do you mean, ‘troubling news’?” Mr. Hardy asked. “What did you discover?”

  “I haven’t discovered much of anything yet,” Slim Billy replied.

  “But . . . ” Brian McCauley quizzed.

  “But I think enough has happened to warrant a full investigation. I hate to do it, but as safety consultant, I’m hereby shutting Daredevil Fest down.”

  “What!” Terrence immediately complained. “You can’t do that.”

  “I certainly can,” Slim Billy replied calmly in his singsong voice. “And you’re the reason why.”

  “What are you saying?” Joe asked.

  “I’m saying that all of these mishaps have happened to Terrence,” Slim Billy said. “They could be coincidence, they could be sabotage. . . . ”

  “Or they could be his incompetence,” Antonio said as he joined the gathering.

  “You wish!” Terrence shot back at his competition.

  “Look,” Antonio said, “you’re the only one who can’t get it together. No reason for all of the competitors to suffer because of you.”

  “I thought you wanted to win this tournament with Terrence in it,” Joe said.

  “Sure, I’d like to,” Antonio answered. “And I know I can. But I don’t want to see the whole thing go down the drain just because T here has lost his edge.”

  Terrence pressed his angry face into Antonio’s. The two were nearly touching noses.

  “I have my edge, boy,” Terrence said, steamed. “Edge enough to take you down.”

  Brian McCauley pushed his body between the two hotheads.

  “Enough!” he shouted. “This is about more than Daredevil Fest. Somebody wants my son dead, and this has gone way past any game.”

  “Well, I don’t know if anybody is trying to kill your boy,” Thompson said. “But if that is the case, my investigation will uncover any sabotage.”

  “Can’t you investigate while the competition continues?” Terrence asked. He eased a few inches away from Antonio.

  “No, and that’s final,” Slim Billy replied. “I’m concerned for your safety, Terrence,” he stated. “Frankly, I’m concerned for all of the competitors’ safety.”

  “Aw, man, this is bogus,” Antonio spat out as he flung his hands above his head. He walked away in a huff.

  “Well, we appreciate your concern,” Joe said. “It’s getting tiring, hauling T out of danger. Just please let us know what you find.” Joe held out his hand in a gesture of friendship to Slim Billy. The haggard-looking safety consultant absentmindedly took Joe’s hand and gave it a weak, very abrupt shake.

  Joe immediately noticed that Slim Billy’s grip was very strange. Then Joe realized it not only felt weird but oddly familiar. Joe was certain he had encountered the man—or at least his hand—in the past few days.

  The skydiving airplane, Joe realized, when the pilot grabbed my shoulder.

  Perhaps a bit too obviously, he looked at the man’s right hand as Billy pulled it away and jammed it in his pocket.

  “Uh, well,” Joe stammered, “I guess we should go get cleaned up.”

  “Good idea,” Brian said. “Thanks again, Billy.”

  “No problem,” Thompson replied. He turned and walked back toward the wrecked eighteen-wheeler. Frank noted that Slim Billy had a serious limp. His left leg was extremely stiff.

  “I guess we’ll head on back to the house,” Mr. Hardy said. “You coming, Frank?”

  “Nah, I’m going to stick with Joe and T. We’ll see you back there.”

  Brian and Mr. Hardy said goodbye and left for home.

  “Let’s hit the trailer and change,” Terrence suggested. The three young men began to walk.

  “Spill it,” Frank said to Joe. “I saw something on your face while you were talking to William Thompson.”

  “His hand, man. Didn’t you notice it?”

  “What about it?” Frank asked.

  “He has only two fingers and a thumb on his right hand,” Joe said. “His middle finger and his pinky are missing. I wonder how he could fly a plane with such a damaged hand.”

  “What do you mean, ‘fly a plane’?” Terrence asked.

  “I recognized his strange grip,” Joe responded. “He was the one who helped me get into the airplane when we went skydiving.”

  “So?” Terrence said. “He’s the safety coordinator for this show. Plus, he’s actually a great pilot. It’s not odd that he would pilot the skydiving event.”

  The three entered the changing trailer. No other competitors were in there, so they had privacy.

  “There are no restrictions given his handicap?” Frank asked.
<
br />   “I’d fly with him,” Terrence said.

  “You seem to have a lot of respect for the guy,” Joe said. He took off his sweaty shirt.

  “I guess I do,” Terrence said. He got himself a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “He was a great stuntman in his day. He could have been the best.”

  “I hear a but in your voice,” Frank said.

  “But,” Terrence continued, “he was very reckless. He was a big risk taker when he did a stunt. Always pushing the envelope. Studio execs had a love-hate relationship with Slim Billy. He always delivered the most action-packed stunts, but he was a killer on their insurance premiums. Studio accountants used to joke that they needed to take out a ‘Slim Billy rider’ on the insurance policies if he was working the film.”

  “So one of his stunts finally caught up with him,” Joe said as he put on some fresh shorts.

  “I’ll say,” Terrence said. “I was there when it happened.” He slumped down to the couch, obviously depressed by the story he was about to relate.

  “It was two years ago,” Terrence began. “On the set of The Bridges of Rodriguez Ridge.”

  “The World War II movie?” Frank asked.

  Terrence nodded and continued.

  “Anyway, by that time, it was difficult to get other stuntmen to work with Thompson. He was too reckless. But the studio needed a blockbuster, so they went with him as the lead stuntman. I was young and wanted work, so I signed on as well.”

  Terrence took a drink and stared at the floor.

  “We were doing a stunt on a mountainside,” he finally said. “There were a lot of explosions as we charged up what was something like a twenty-percent grade. Boom, bam, bang! Explosives were detonating all around us. I was in the lead. Then, boom, a charge goes off close to me and I lose my footing. Some rocks start to slide. One bounces and hits Slim Billy square . . . ”

  Terrence choked on his words.

  “Hit him square . . . ” he started again, but could not proceed.

  Frank sat down next to the emotional stuntman. He put a reassuring hand on his leg.