“Are you all right?” he heard Chet call.
“Light,” Joe said with a groan. “I need some light.”
Joe sat up slowly, then climbed shakily to his feet. He tried to get his bearings and sort out what had happened while he waited for Chet to return.
“Frank!” he cried out suddenly, remembering why he had rushed into the shed in the first place. “Frank, are you down here?” Joe called, his voice echoing in the musty area.
“I’m letting down a flashlight on the end of this rope,” Chet called from the shed above. “I’ve turned it on.”
“Hurry,” Joe said in a desperate tone. “I can’t find Frank.”
Moments later Joe saw the light dangling in the darkness. Joe untied the flashlight and aimed it at the area around him. He saw that he was in a narrow tunnel. Pipes wrapped in crumbling plaster insulation ran along the side walls. There were conduits and cables attached to the low ceiling.
Then he saw his brother. Frank was sprawled on the concrete floor behind him.
Joe knelt down next to Frank. With relief Joe found his brother’s pulse and then slapped him on the face to rouse him. Frank moaned softly.
“I need a wet cloth down here!” Joe yelled up at Chet.
While Joe waited with his brother, Chet found an old stepladder and a rag. He soaked the cloth in water from a tap on the side of Building B, then hurried back to the shed. Nervously Chet lowered the ladder in the trapdoor opening. Then he climbed gingerly down into the darkness.
“I think he’s going to be okay,” Joe said. He applied the wet cloth to his brother’s head. After a few moments Frank opened his eyes.
“The last thing I remember,” Frank groaned, “is falling.”
“You hit,” Joe told him. “Hard.”
“You’re telling me,” his brother said, rubbing the lump on his head. “But the good news is, I was right. Do you know where we are?”
“A hole in the ground?” Chet asked.
“We’re in an extensive tunnel system,” Frank said. “I knew there was some explanation for those patches of brown grass.”
“I don’t get it,” Chet said.
“Cement is porous,” Frank explained. “These tunnels absorb the groundwater that would keep the grass green, like it is on both sides of the tunnels.”
“These tunnels are used for heating and electrical systems,” Joe said.
“And you think the Saurion’s down here in this tunnel,” Chet concluded.
“While we search for the car,” Frank said, turning to Chet, “we’d like you to find Callie in case we’re not out of here in time to meet her. And while you’re at it, maybe you could drive the van back over to that food truck and get us something to eat. I’m feeling a little wobbly.”
“I can do that,” Chet said as he began climbing up the ladder.
“Let’s plan on meeting at Building A by five o’clock,” Frank said. “Then Joe can get over to the demolition derby.”
Leading the way, Joe began walking deeper into the dank tunnel. The floor was rough and unfinished. The walls, he noticed, were made of concrete, like the floor.
“So far all we’ve seen is rubbish and a couple of rats,” Joe said several minutes later.
Frank nodded. “Except for some of the pipes turning upward, there’s no sign of any connection with Building A above. No door, not even a hatch.”
“Then let’s go back the other way.”
“Not just yet,” Frank said. “Let’s say whoever took the Saurion pushed it out the front door of Building A, then rolled it away from Felix Stock’s compound.”
Suddenly Joe stopped. “There’s a back overhead door in Building A!” he exclaimed.
“That’s true,” Frank said, “but it’s behind a pile of crates.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Joe insisted. “That’s how the car disappeared. It was pushed out the back door.”
Abruptly the tunnel turned to the left.
“There’s something up ahead,” Frank noted as the flashlight beam shone on a barrier.
“It’s a wooden wall and a door,” Joe said.
“And it looks relatively new,” Frank commented.
Joe jiggled the latch, but the door wouldn’t open. “It’s locked,” he said in a disappointed tone.
Removing a small knife from his pocket, Frank worked the latch. “Forget it,” he said finally. “There’s a hasp and a padlock on the other side.”
“Maybe I can break the door down,” Joe said. He threw his shoulder against the door, but it held. He tried it again, but it still wouldn’t budge.
“We need to hit it together,” Frank said.
On a count of three the Hardys used all their strength to ram the door. This time Joe went sprawling as the latch on the other side sprang free and the heavy door swung in on a large underground room.
Frank helped Joe to his feet, then shined the flashlight around the room. Joe switched on a hanging lightbulb and found himself staring at a canvas-covered automobile. “It’s the Saurion!” Joe cried. “We found it.”
The Hardys pulled the heavy canvas cover off the sleek red sports car.
“There’s the hole in the dashboard, where the stereo goes,” Frank said, pointing.
“Nothing else seems to be missing,” Joe said as he examined the Saurion. “The odometer doesn’t even show a mile since I dropped the transmission.”
He got down on his back and looked under the sports car with the flashlight. “The transmission’s still got those blown seals,” he reported. “We’ve got to tell Felix Stock we found his car.”
“It looks like someone was working on the brakes over here,” Frank said. “There’s grease all over.”
“Any fingerprints?” Joe asked right away.
“Maybe, but they’re smeared.”
“Then to be safe, I’ll simply have to wipe them off,” came a cold voice from the corner behind them.
Frank whirled around, and Joe slipped hurriedly out from under the car.
“Freeze!” the voice commanded. “I have a gun.”
In the dim light of the single bulb Frank saw that the man was wearing a racing suit, a black racing helmet, and a dark visor that hid his eyes. He was short and looked muscular.
“That’s a flare gun,” Frank pointed out.
“You think it’s a toy, you’re welcome to try me.” The man in black aimed it at Frank’s head. “Now, get away from the car!” the man ordered.
Frank backed up carefully, followed by Joe.
“I regret that I am going to have to do away with you two. The others won’t be happy, but I don’t see any other way.”
“Let’s look at our options,” Joe suggested, trying to gain some time.
“You don’t have any,” the man said coldly. “Take this rope,” he added, tossing a coil of rope to Joe. “Tie your brother’s hands and feet to that pipe over by the workbench wall. Now!” he snarled.
Frank backed up to the pipe, and Joe tied up his brother.
The man with the gun went over and looked at the knots. “Nice work,” he said to Joe.
Joe remained silent.
“You come over here,” the man continued, “and turn around.”
As Joe did as he was told, Frank watched the man suddenly hit his brother on the back of the head. Joe fell to the floor, unconscious.
“Hey!” Frank shouted.
The man in black laughed.
While Frank began working at the knots binding his hands, he saw their assailant take a pile of oily rags from a workbench. He threw them under the bench, then dragged some cardboard boxes and several wooden crates over. Taking a can of high-octane additive, he emptied it on the pile.
“It’s damp down here,” the man said. “Wouldn’t a nice warm fire feel good?” He laughed menacingly.
Frank watched as the man raised the flare gun and aimed it at the pile of debris. The helmeted man pulled the trigger.
The sudden burst of brilliant white magnesium fire blin
ded Frank. Immediately he could feel the heat as the flare ignited the combustible liquid.
“Too bad it had to end this way,” the man said as he hurried off down one of the tunnels.
“Joe!” Frank called. “Can you hear me?”
But Joe was still out cold. And as smoke began to fill the basement room, Frank found it was hard to even see his brother. Frank’s eyes began to water, and the smoke in the air made it difficult to breathe. “Joe!” he tried again.
We’ve got to get out of this, Frank said to himself. He was growing dizzy from lack of oxygen. His head drooped forward, and he knew he was only seconds away from passing out.
9 Where’s Callie?
* * *
Frank made a superhuman effort to stay conscious. Although Joe had tied him up, Frank knew his brother was experienced at tying slipknots.
Frank struggled with the ropes. Soon he managed to work loose his wrists and untie the ropes around his ankles. Grabbing the fire extinguisher from a nearby wall, Frank immediately smothered the flames.
He knelt down next to his brother, who was still unconscious. “Come on,” Frank said, slapping Joe’s face.
Slowly Joe came to. “Did you catch him?” he asked groggily.
“He got away,” Frank said. “But we’ve still got the Saurion.”
“How do we get out of here?” Joe said as Frank helped him to his feet.
“We go out the same way the Saurion came in,” Frank told him.
The Hardys headed back out of the large basement room into the tunnel through which the helmeted man had fled. Joe shone the flashlight on the tire tracks that cut through the dust of the concrete floor.
“There’s no question that this is the way the Saurion was brought into that room,” Frank said.
“There’s a ramp,” Joe said when he saw the tunnel divide. One branch headed off to the left, the other sloped upward. Joe started up the ramp.
“These are just boards thrown over the opening from outside,” Joe said. Pushing a board aside, he found himself looking out into the late-afternoon light. He hoisted himself up. His brother followed.
“We’re behind Building A,” Joe said. “There’s the overhead door we thought couldn’t be used.”
Frank looked around. “And this old tunnel ramp is shielded by these oil drums.”
“Let’s get over to Building A,” Joe said. “Stock should have a small tractor or something to help us bring up the Saurion.”
“Got any ideas on who the guy in the black helmet was?” Frank asked his brother as they headed over to the Stock Motor Car Company.
“Maybe it was Marvin Tarpley,” Joe said.
“The guy had the same build—short and muscular,” Frank said. “Anyway, at least now we know that because of where the Saurion was hidden, the thief and the person who’s responsible for the incident is probably someone right on the grounds.”
“But who has something to gain from hiding only the Saurion?” Joe asked. “And who would want to go so far as to try and kill people over the car?”
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Frank said. “Right now,” he added, looking at his watch, “we’ve got to tell Felix Stock his prototype’s been found. Then you’ve got a new job with the derby.”
Frank saw Chet sitting in the van when the brothers reached the front of Building A.
“Hey, I thought you guys would never get here,” Chet said as they approached. “I almost ate all this food myself.” Through the van window he handed the Hardys a cardboard tray piled with hot dogs, bags of chips, and soda.
“Did you see Callie over there?” Frank asked as he unwrapped a hot dog.
“No, but I overheard Dwaine Rusk complain that Joe’s late.”
“Where’s Felix Stock?” Joe asked, munching on a potato chip.
“He’s working on a second Saurion,” Chet said. “But he says he’ll never be ready in time for tomorrow night.”
“Oh, yes, he will,” Joe said. He bit into his hot dog, then turned and entered the building. Joe was smiling when he entered Building A. He found Felix Stock going over some paperwork at his desk, and Joe thought he looked pretty glum.
“Your prototype is parked in a tunnel under these buildings,” Joe said, getting right to the point.
Stock stared at him for a moment as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You found it?” he said finally. “But how . . . where?”
“It’s a long story,” Frank said, coming up behind Joe. Hurriedly Frank told the engineer about the helmeted man and where the prototype was hidden.
Joe dodged out of the way as a now-smiling Felix Stock raced outside. The Hardys hurried after the engineer.
A few moments later Stock was standing in the basement room gazing at the Saurion, a happy expression on his face. “Thanks, guys,” he said warmly, turning to Frank and Joe. “You really came through for me.”
When they got back up to the ground, Frank attached chains to the tractor that would pull the Saurion out of the tunnel.
“It’ll take all night,” Stock said, sitting at the wheel of the tractor, “but I’ll have the prototype ready for that race.”
“I’ve got to get to the derby,” Joe said.
“Good luck,” Frank said. His brother waved and jogged toward the derby’s infield compound.
Frank glanced at his watch again. Callie was probably here by now, he thought. He and Chet turned their attention to helping Stock pull the Saurion out of the underground tunnel and up the ramp. Fifteen minutes later Stock was raising the Saurion upon a hydraulic lift in Building A.
“Why did you decide to build the Saurion here?” Frank asked Stock.
“I might be a fairly good engineer,” Stock explained, “but I put all my money into designing the car itself. I did a lot of research and hired consultants. When it came time to actually build one, there wasn’t much money left. Curt offered to let me use his property here in return for a share of any profits the Saurion earns.”
“No money went to Curt up front?” Frank asked.
“Not a cent. Like I said, I couldn’t have done that anyway,” Stock went on. “Every dime I’ve got is in the PEST system. Even if the Saurion doesn’t sell, I think the PEST technology could be worth a few bucks.” He smiled, then whispered confidentially, “And I’m the only one who knows the secret circuitry!”
“What about Marvin Tarpley?” Frank asked. “Dwaine Rusk told me Tarpley knows the circuitry.”
“Yeah,” Stock said, “Tarpley may have figured it out, but he’d have no means to apply it. He’d need a financial backer if he wanted to use my design.”
“Do you think Tarpley would try to sell the design?”
“Well, I guess I never thought about that,” Stock said, frowning.
“Where is Tarpley, anyway?” Frank asked.
“I heard he quit the derby,” Stock said, “and he hasn’t showed up around here in a few days. If he doesn’t get in touch with me soon, I’m afraid he’s out of a job.”
“Does Tarpley have any contractual rights to the Saurion?” Frank asked.
“Nope, only Kiser,” Stock replied.
“Does Kiser stand to make money only from the car or from the PEST system, too?”
“I told Curt the deal was for the Saurion only,” Felix Stock replied evenly.
“But isn’t the PEST system an integral part of the car?” Frank wanted to know.
“You sound just like those lawyers,” Felix Stock said, frowning. “I say it isn’t, but one lawyer I talked to claims it’s standard equipment.”
“I’d like to look over the contract with Kiser,” Frank said. “Criminal motives are often hidden in fine print.”
“I’ll see if I can find it later,” Stock said. “I know I need a business manager, like Kiser’s got Jason Dain. But I keep putting it off.”
“Is that Jason Dain’s job here?” Frank asked. “He’s Curt Kiser’s business manager?”
“He’s Curt Kiser’s partne
r,” Katie Bratton interrupted. She was standing a few feet away from Frank, holding an envelope. “Jason Dain is a man of many talents. He’s an accountant who also knows a lot about cars. If anyone can turn this track into a money-maker, Dain can. And—” Suddenly her eyes grew wide. “You found it!” she cried out, hurrying over to the car. “I can’t believe it. Where was it?”
Frank wanted to keep as many details about the case as secret as possible, so he quickly replied, “All the facts aren’t in yet, but we’ll let you know. . . .” Noticing the envelope in Katie’s hand, he changed the subject. “Is that a message for someone?”
Katie paused, then held out the envelope to Frank. “Jason gave this to me when I left his office. He said it was delivered less than an hour ago.”
Frank saw his name written on the front when he took the envelope. He opened it and unfolded the paper inside. Curiosity turned quickly to fear as he read the handwritten letter.
“Is something wrong?” Katie asked, seeing the worried expression on Frank’s face.
Frank looked up from the paper. “This is a note from my girlfriend, Callie Shaw,” he said. “It says she’s been held up and won’t be able to meet me here for the demolition derby.”
“I’m sure she has a good reason,” Katie said.
“The problem is,” Frank said tensely, “this is not Callie’s handwriting.”
10 Going for a Ride
* * *
“When did Jason Dain give you this letter?” Frank urgently asked Katie Bratton.
“Just a few minutes ago,” she said. “He knew I was coming over here.”
“How did he know that?” Chet asked suspiciously.
“Because I told him!” Katie said hotly. “Look, I know things have been crazy around here for the past few days, but we aren’t going to accomplish anything if we accuse each other of being part of some plot.”
“I’m sorry,” Chet said sheepishly.
“It’s okay,” Katie said with a nod. “I hope your girlfriend’s all right, Frank. You guys do what you have to do, and I’ll help Felix get the Saurion ready.”
Frank signaled to Chet to follow him out of the building. “We’ve got to find Callie,” Frank said grimly.
The Demolition Mission Page 6
