“Then we have time for lunch,” Chet said, his eyes lighting up. “It’s almost two P.M.”
“Good idea,” Jim Olsen said. “We haven’t eaten either. ”
Chet gave him a delighted look, and Vern laughed. “You just made a lifelong friend, Officer Olsen.”
To save time they ordered from room service. The boys had all finished cleaning up and dressing when the food arrived.
After lunch, they were driven to Parker Center, the police administration building. The officers took them to the auto-theft division squad room on the third floor and left them with a tall and somewhat stiff detective named Lieutenant Harold Frisby.
When they repeated their story, he asked them to describe the exact location of the warehouse. Then he picked up his desk phone and asked the switchboard operator to get him the district attorney.
“Hi, Jud,” he said into the phone. “I finally have a lead on that nationwide car-theft ring we’ve been after for so long. I need a search warrant.” He gave the address of the warehouse.
As soon as he hung up, he called the Metro division, asking for a squad of a dozen uniformed policemen to accompany him on a raid. “I won’t need them for about an hour, because I’m waiting for the district attorney’s office to send over a warrant,” he added.
When he hung up the second time, Frank asked, “Can we go on the raid?”
The detective shook his head. “No civilians allowed. There may be shooting. I’ll have you dropped back at your hotel.”
“Our car’s parked near the warehouse,” Frank said. “We’d rather be dropped there.”
“All right,” Lieutenant Frisby agreed.
“As long as we’re right there, can we watch the raid from outside?”
The detective gave him an amused look. “You’re determined to get in on it one way or another, I see. All right, you can watch from across the street. But you’re not going to talk me into letting you participate in the raid,”
When the search warrant arrived, Lieutenant Frisby and the four boys took the elevator to the basement garage, where they found three carloads of uniformed policemen with riot guns. The boys got into a fourth car with Lieutenant Frisby, and he led the way to the warehouse at the edge of Old Chinatown.
When they reached the street fronting the warehouse, Frank pointed to the building and said, “That’s it.” Then he indicated the gray sedan a block beyond the warehouse. “And that’s our car.”
Lieutenant Frisby parked behind the sedan and the three squad cars pulled up next to him. Everyone got out, and the lieutenant addressed the uniformed sergeant in charge of the riot squad.
“Post five men in the back and five in front,” he ordered. “Then you and I’ll go in.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said.
Picking five officers, he told them to walk around to the alley and cover the rear of the building. After another five were selected to cover the front, only one was left. The sergeant designated him to accompany him and the lieutenant inside.
Lieutenant Frisby gave the men time to get into position. While waiting, he told the boys to move in back of the parked police cars in case there was any shooting. The young detectives crouched behind the two nearest to the warehouse.
The lieutenant checked his watch. “Okay, let’s go now,” he said to the two officers. Quickly, the lieutenant and his companions crossed the street.
He tried the front door and looked surprised when he found it unlocked. Opening it, he drew his gun and stepped inside. The two men followed.
Ten minutes passed with no sound from the warehouse. The boys heard one of the men ask uneasily, “Think we should bust in there?”
“The lieutenant said to wait,” another one answered.
Then Lieutenant Frisby and his two companions reappeared. He no longer had his gun in his hand, and the two men carried their riot guns pointed downward. They recrossed the street, slowly.
“False alarm, fellows,” the sergeant said. “Head back to Parker Center.”
Apparently, he had already told the men out back that the raid was called off, because they came around from the alley and climbed into the squad cars. The young detectives watched open-mouthed as all three cars drove off.
“I don’t get it,” Joe said to the lieutenant.
“Follow me,” the detective said peremptorily.
He led them across the street, opened the warehouse’s front door, and they all went in. The boys gaped in astonishment. The big, barnlike main room was completely empty!
The lieutenant crossed to the door to their left and opened it.
“This the machine shop you mentioned?” he asked.
Crowding around the door, the boys stared in at the empty room.
“It was,” Frank said, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
The lieutenant led them to the office. A skinny old man smoking a corncob pipe sat in Big Harry’s chair with his feet up on the desk.
“Back again, Lieutenant?” he said with a grin.
“This is Mr. Jonas Moapes,” Lieutenant Frisby said. “Mr. Moapes, would you mind repeating to these four what you told me your job was here?”
“Sure,” the old man said agreeably. “I’m the caretaker. ”
“And how long have you held that job?”
“Three months, ever since the last people who rented the place went out of business.”
“What’s been in here since?
“Nothing,” the old man said. “The place has been empty.”
“That’s a lie!” Chet blurted out. The caretaker merely shrugged.
15 Spare Parts For Sale
All four boys were in a state of shock as they left the warehouse with Lieutenant Frisby. Outside he halted and, looking from Frank to Joe, said, “If you two weren’t the sons of such a famous father, I would arrest you for filing a false report.”
“But the crooks were using this warehouse,” Joe protested. “Somehow they must have known we were coming.”
“We didn’t just dream this, Lieutenant,” Vern spoke up. “How do you explain our being kidnapped and being taken aboard that boat?”
“I think you dreamed that too,” the lieutenant said shortly, and strode toward his car.
After watching him drive away, the boys disconsolately walked up the street to their own automobile. There was dead silence as they returned to the hotel. Upstairs they gathered in the Hardys’ room.
“Maybe we did dream the whole thing,” Chet suggested.
“Don’t be silly,” Frank said. “That old man is in with the crooks. They knew the jig was up when we got away, unless they discredited us with the police. And they were clever enough to do it. While Lieutenant Frisby waited for that warrant, they cleared the place out and installed the fake caretaker. ”
“Let’s go back and question Mr. Moapes,” Joe said. “Maybe we can shake his story.”
“First, let’s change hotels,” Chet said. “After our encounter with those crooks, I don’t feel safe here anymore.”
All agreed that this was a good idea. Checking out, they drove to another hotel a few blocks away and again moved into connecting rooms.
When they were settled, Joe suggested that they phone home to report the change, so that their father would know how to get in touch with them if necessary. Frank made the call and his mother answered. She said Fenton Hardy was still on his secret mission, but that she was expecting a call at any time, and would relay this new number to him.
Driving back to the warehouse, the boys parked and tried the front door. It was locked, so they drove around to the alley. They found the back door locked too.
Joe tried the restroom window, which was open. “I wonder why they don’t ever lock this too. We’ve used it twice already,” he commented as he climbed over the sill, followed by Chet and Vern.
Frank went in last. Examining the window, he answered Joe’s question. “The latch part of the lock is missing!”
The elderly Jonas Moapes was no long
er in the building.
“I knew he was a plant,” Frank said. “They stuck him in here just long enough to con the police into believing we were crazy.”
The boys examined the building thoroughly, ending up in the office where Joe began opening desk drawers. All were empty except the top center one, and the only thing it had in it was an empty matchbook cover. Joe shut the drawer and tossed the matchbook cover on the desk.
Frank picked it up to look at it. On the front was an advertisement for the Admax Wholesale Auto Parts Company of Studio City.
“Hey, look at this,” he said, handing it back to Joe.
After reading the ad, Joe said, “It could be a lead. Maybe it’s the outlet for their stolen spare parts!”
Chet and Vern examined Joe’s find, too. “It must be,” Chet said with enthusiasm. “They have to have some place to get rid of the stuff they steal.”
“Let’s visit the Admax Wholesale Auto Parts Company,” Frank suggested.
The store was on a quiet street off Ventura Boulevard, near Laurel Canyon. It was a long, one-story building with ADMAX WHOLESALE AUTO PARTS painted on a plate glass window.
Parking across the street, Joe told the others to wait while he scouted around. He went to peer in the window, then immediately returned.
He said, “It’s the gang’s outlet, all right.”
“How do you know?” Frank asked.
“Red Sluice is behind the counter!”
At that moment, a chauff‘eured limousine drove up before the store and a bent old man in expensive clothing got out and went inside.
“Let’s sneak around back and see what we can find out,” Frank said to Joe.
“Here we go again,” Chet said. “I suppose you want me behind the wheel in case we have to take off fast.”
“You got it,” Frank said with a grin.
There was an alley running alongside the building. Frank and Joe walked to the rear and saw a truck entrance with a sliding door, similar to the one in the back of the Old Chinatown warehouse. It was partially open.
The boys peeked into a large room running the full width of the building. Obviously it was the storeroom, because it was full of auto parts, including complete engines. Parked against the right wall were the three almost new cars, including Vern’s blue sedan, that had originally been unloaded at the warehouse.
Crafty Kraft and Anton Jivaro were placing small parts on shelves along the left wall, and the elderly Jonas Moapes was sweeping with a push broom, his back turned toward the boys. He finished just as they looked in, and disappeared through a door that presumably led to the store in front.
Seeing no one else, the boys quietly moved inside and bent down low as they crept along an aisle formed between a row of car engines and stacks of radiators.
In addition to the door straight ahead, which led into the store, there was a second door off to their right. It stood wide open, and through it they noticed the elegantly dressed, bent old man who had arrived in the chauffeured limousine. He was seated before a desk with his back to the door, facing someone the boys could not see.
They moved up alongside the door to listen, hidden from view by a stack of radiators.
The old man said in a creaky voice, “The Merriweather Auto Repair Shop chain is almost nationwide, Mr. Knotts. Surely you’ve heard of us.”
“Sorry, Mr. Merriweather,” Big Harry replied in an apologetic tone. “I don’t recall seeing your ads.”
“Probably because California is one of the four states where we have no shops. We plan to correct that by opening a dozen next month. That is going to require a tremendous supply of parts.”
“I’m sure we can serve you satisfactorily,” Big Harry said, his tone suddenly becoming ingratiating.
“I didn’t make my fortune by beating around the bush,” the old man creaked. “So I’ll get right to the point. The Merriweather shops are able to undercut all competition because we buy our spare parts cheaper. I ask no questions about where they come from, and I don’t care if they’re new, so long as they look new. Do you follow me?”
“I think so,” Big Harry said cautiously.
“But I pay only half the regular wholesale price.”
“We’re a discount house, Mr. Merriweather. I’m sure we can make a deal.”
“My main need in the beginning is reconditioned engines that will pass for new,” the old man said. “Got any in stock?”
“I’ll show you,” Big Harry offered.
There was the sound of chairs scraping back. Hurriedly the boys ducked. Big Harry and the old man emerged from the office and slowly moved along the aisle, their backs to the two boys.
Big Harry said, “As you can see, we have a large selection. And the way we clean them up, I doubt that even an expert mechanic could tell they’re not brand new.”
Taking out a small notebook, the old man peered at an engine and wrote something down. Slowly moving along the line, he continued to make notes.
Finally putting away the notebook, he said, “I guess that’s enough of a list for now. I’ll go over it with my chief parts buyer, and let you know tomorrow how many and what type engines we’ll need.”
Suddenly, the boys were grabbed from behind. With a gasp, they tried to turn and face their attackers, but they were held so tightly that moving was impossible!
16 Outwitted
Looking over his shoulder, Frank saw that it was the powerfully built Crafty Kraft who held him in a bear hug. Again he struggled, but was unable to break loose.
Anton Jivaro had a half nelson on Joe, but the little man was no match for his larger opponent. Raising his right foot, Joe slammed his heel into the man’s knee. With a howl of pain, Anton broke his grip and backed away.
Hearing the commotion, Big Harry and his aged customer both turned around. As Joe started to go to Frank’s aid, Big Harry rushed at him.
Suddenly, the old man clutched his chest. “My heart!” he cried, falling down.
He collapsed in a way similar to an illegal football clip, against the back of Big Harry’s legs. The big man lost his balance and landed flat on his face.
Joe got a headlock on Crafty Kraft from behind and pulled him away from Frank. As he released the headlock, he punched the tattooed man in the back, causing him to trip over Big Harry.
Then the boys ran for the door, dashed out, and hurried along the alley to the front. They were across the street and in the car by the time Big Harry and Crafty Kraft burst into sight.
Chet had started the engine when he saw his friends coming, and pulled away before the pursuers could cross the street.
“Good work, Chet,” Frank said.
“Head for Parker Center.”
Chet turned up Laurel Canyon Boulevard toward the Ventura Freeway. “What happened?” he asked.
“We got caught poking around. All four kidnappers are there. Vern’s car is too. Even old Mr. Moapes is there. I have no doubt that the Admax Company is the outlet for what the crooks steal.”
Joe added, “Incidentally, we learned Big Harry’s last name. It’s Knotts.”
At Parker Center they found Lieutenant Frisby in the auto-theft division squad room. Frowning at the boys, he said, “You four again?”
“We solved the mystery of the empty warehouse,” Frank said, handing him the matchbook cover. “They moved everything to this place.”
After examining the advertisement, the lieutenant shook his head. “How does this fit in with the warehouse being empty for the last three months?”
“The old man lied,” Joe said. “He’s the janitor at Admax. The crooks stuck him in the warehouse just to discredit us.”
Frank added, “Not only that, but all the men who kidnapped us are at this very minute working at Admax. ”
“Maybe you better tell me the whole story,” Lieutenant Frisby suggested.
When Frank and Joe finished, he looked less doubtful but was not yet completely convinced.
“I’m not going to go off half-c
ocked by setting up another raid,” he told them. “But I’m willing to check it out. You boys can lead me there in your car. ”
They took the elevator to the basement garage, and the lieutenant drove them around to where they had left their car on the visitors’ parking lot. From there he followed them to Studio City.
The five entered the wholesale parts store together. A plump man the boys had never seen before was behind the counter. Lieutenant Frisby showed him his I.D.
“Your manager in?” he asked.
“Just a moment,” the plump man said, and disappeared into the back.
“Is he one of your kidnappers?” the lieutenant asked when the clerk was out of sight.
The boys shook their heads. “He wasn’t here before,” Joe said. “Red Sluice was waiting on customers. ”
The clerk came back with a tall, gangling man. Offering a handshake to the lieutenant, he said, “I’m Osgood Admax, Lieutenant, the store’s owner. What’s the problem?”
Lieutenant Frisby turned to the boys. “Is he one of them?”
They shook their heads again.
“Mr. Admax,” the officer asked, “you employ a janitor named Jonas Moapes?”
In a puzzled voice the man said, “I don’t even know anyone by that name. Except for a part-time bookkeeper, my only employee is Melvin here.” He nodded toward the plump clerk. “What’s this all about?”
Indicating the boys, the detective said, “These young men have made some serious charges against you. They claim this place is an outlet for auto parts stripped from stolen cars.”
“That’s a lie!” Admax objected indignantly.
“Mind if we take a look at your storeroom?” Lieutenant Frisby asked. “Or do I need a warrant?”
“I don’t mind at all. We have nothing to hide.”
Raising a hinged section of the counter to let the officer and the boys through, Admax led them into the back room. Frank and Joe gazed around in consternation. The three stolen cars were gone, and all the engines had disappeared. Everything else that had been there previously, however, still seemed to be in place.
The Vanishing Thieves Page 8
