Blown Away

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Thanks,” said Ella, standing up and waving good-bye. “See you later.”

  I was sad to see her go, but Ella wasn’t a suspect in this—and I had to stay focused. According to ATAC intelligence, she didn’t even care if she had to share the resort. This was all about a feud between Beller and Peterson.

  And now we were alone with Beller. Well, practically alone. There was another woman in the waiting room, sitting by the door—but she was absorbed in the latest issue of Cigar Aficionado magazine.

  I discretely signed to my brother, I told you so.

  He shook his head and discretely signed back, I don’t think flirting with Beller’s fiancée is going to make the guy so eager to talk to you.

  I replied, I wasn’t flirting. I was just being friendly.

  Just then Beller pulled a cell phone out of his robe pocket and dialed a number. “It’s me,” he said quietly. “Ready to launch Operation Bobo.”

  My eyebrows shot up. Operation Bobo? If that wasn’t suspicious, I don’t know what is. I wondered if Bobo was some kind of acronym. If so, what could it stand for? Billington Operation Bomb Ordered? Bomb on Billington Orchestrated?

  We had to get more information. But for now, all we could do was listen.

  Beller said, “Yes, now, and you’d better hurry.” Then he hung up his phone, slipped it into his pocket, and went back to reading his paper.

  The guy seemed awfully calm. If only I could make Beller mad. That would get him talking.

  I called to Frank, “That Aston Martin was pretty amazing, huh? This is one of the best car auctions I’ve ever been to.”

  “Excuse me, boys,” said Beller, peering over the top of his newspaper. “This isn’t a car auction. This is a spa, at one of the finest luxury resorts in the nation.”

  “Which also happens to be hosting the biggest car show in the world,” I pointed out. “Have you seen it?”

  “I have not, and I have no intention of ever seeing it,” said Beller. “And the fact that my resort is crawling with mechanics on my wedding day is infuriating.”

  His cheeks were starting to flush. My plan was working.

  “You’re missing out,” said Frank. “This is a killer car auction.”

  What Beller said next totally surprised us. “That’s an ironic choice of words.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Never mind,” Beller replied. He raised his paper back up so that it was covering his face, but before he did, I noticed he was smiling. “Enjoy it while you can, boys. Henry Peterson and his little auction aren’t going to be around forever. I’ve made sure of that.”

  Frank and I locked eyes. It was clear we were thinking the same thing. Unbelievable—Beller had practically confessed to the crime.

  Before I could even ask him anything else, he was called away for his massage. I tried following him out of the waiting room so I could get more details, but the only other person in the room stopped me.

  It was the other lady in the waiting room, who’d been reading Cigar Aficionado. I can’t believe we didn’t think she might be Beller’s undercover security guard before! Too late now. She was standing in front of the door, blocking our exit. “Where do you boys think you’re going?” she asked.

  “I have a question for Mr. Beller,” Frank said.

  “Mr. Beller isn’t taking any questions now,” the woman replied. “And don’t even think about trying to get past me. I’m trained in four different types of martial arts, and all of them are potentially lethal.”

  Yikes!

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Jake Beller

  Hometown: New York City

  Physical description: 65 years old, 5’10”, but he tells the press he’s over 6 feet tall. Thin with red hair and a bad toupee. He always wears expensive dark suits and shiny black shoes. Usually wears sunglasses, even inside.

  Occupation: Real estate developer and reality tele vision star

  Background: Started buying and selling real estate in the seventies. Was once bankrupt. This will be his fourth wedding, but only his second time marrying a model/actress.

  Suspicious behavior: Tried to get the M&P Car Auction to change the date. Offered a bribe and then threatened to sue. Finally gave up but told Henry Peterson, “If you go through with this, you’ll be sorry.”

  Suspected of: Planting a bomb or faking a very convincing bomb threat.

  Possible motives: Revenge. Ego. This guy is used to getting what he wants, when he wants it.

  Just then the woman from the front desk came back into the room and said, “Frank and Joe Hardy? I’m sorry for the delay, but we’re ready for you.”

  Phew! Saved by the spa lady. “Actually,” I said, pulling Frank away, “we just got pedicures and facials yesterday. We’re going to cancel our appointments.”

  Canceling was easy, but as it turned out, getting changed—or leaving—was not. Just as we were about to push open the door, the guard grabbed Frank by the lapels of his robe. “I know who you are,” she said.

  Sheesh. Everyone thought they knew who we were. It was like we were wearing signs on our backs: UNDERCOVER BROTHERS: ASK US WHO WE’RE WORKING FOR.

  “We’re just a couple of kids on vacation with our parents,” Frank insisted. “I’m sorry I tried to talk to Beller. I’ve just never seen anyone famous in person before. I was excited. It won’t happen again, though. I promise.”

  The guard loosened her grip on Frank’s robe with a final warming. “You’d better make sure of that. I’m letting you go this time, because I want you to deliver a message to your boss.”

  “Our boss?” asked Frank.

  “Yeah, your boss over at the M&P auction. You’re obviously Henry’s spies. Tell him it’s no use. It’s too late. No one messes with Jake Beller and gets away with it. We gave him fair warning, but he didn’t listen. Now he’s gonna learn his lesson the hard way.”

  “Okay, we’ll let him know,” I blurted out. “Just let us go.”

  Once she dropped Frank, we ran back to the locker rooms, ditched the robes and flip-flops, and put our shoes back on.

  “What the heck is Operation Bobo?” I asked as soon as we were alone.

  “I don’t know,” said Frank as he tied his shoelaces. “But I have a feeling something big is about to go down.”

  “We’d better warn Henry,” I said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Frank replied.

  We hurried over to the car auction but had gone only a few steps when we heard a deafening explosion.

  I felt the heat on my face before I even realized what was happening. As soon as it registered, I couldn’t believe it. A heavy, black cloud of smoke rose up to the sky. Large, shooting flames were spewing from the parking lot.

  Frank and I sprinted to the auction. All I could think about was one thing: The bomb had gone off early.

  We were too late.

  8

  Fatal Mistakes

  When we finally made it back to the parking lot, we were met with chaos. The fire, the screaming, the deafening sirens, and blackened faces—it was all too much to take in. We’d failed, big-time. And who knew how much damage had been done?

  I wanted to help but wasn’t sure where to start.

  There were people everywhere. Some were frozen in shock, while others wandered around in a daze.

  Fire trucks and ambulances were just pulling into the parking lot.

  Chief Malrova and a bunch of his officers were already on the scene. I guess now that something had actually happened, Beller couldn’t legally keep the police off his property.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Car bomb,” Chief Malrova replied. “Much smaller than what we were expecting, but still, it was a doozy. It must have been in the Duesenberg, because all that’s left of that car is the charred and twisted frame.”

  “Wow, that was the most valuable car at the auction,” said Joe. “Henry is going to be ticked.”

  “No, he’s not,” said the chief.
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  “Sure he is,” said Joe. “He loves that car. I should go find him, actually.”

  “Joe, wait.” Chief Malrova put his hand on Joe’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “I have some very bad news. Henry Peterson was in the car at the time of the explosion. He’s been killed.”

  “Wh—what?” Joe choked out the word as he staggered backward. “That’s impossible. I was just talking to the guy.”

  “Has anyone else been killed?” I asked.

  “Not that we know of yet,” said the chief. “But it looks like there are plenty of injuries around here. More paramedics are on the way.”

  I scanned the crowd. A woman sat on the ground cradling her arm—it looked broken. The man next to her looked like he was suffering from a dislocated shoulder. A few feet away another guy with a cut above the eyebrow stood with a look of shock on his face. All four of the car handlers I’d met—Maria, Tanner, Douglas, and Justin—were huddled together and covered in soot. Otherwise, they seemed un scathed. Maynard Smith and Henry’s other two security guards were also safe. That was a relief.

  Just then I noticed that Joe was looking sort of queasy. I clapped a hand on his shoulder and asked, “You okay?”

  “I just spoke to Henry,” Joe said. “He pointed out the Duesenberg specifically. He was so proud of that car. It makes perfect sense that it would be a target, but I didn’t even think to search for a bomb.”

  “Joe, this isn’t your fault,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I should have paid closer attention. I should have asked him more about the car. He wanted to show me the engine, and I said no. If I was closer, if I’d looked under the hood, I’m sure I would have noticed there was something wrong. I could have stopped this.”

  “There’s no way you could have known,” said the police chief. “You tried your best.”

  “Chief Malrova is right,” I said. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  I wondered if the traces found by ATAC were of the same bomb-making material that was used to orchestrate this catastrophe. And was this the worst of it, or was there more to come?

  I also wondered if Tanner had anything to do with all this. Maybe Beller had put him up to it. Tanner had been in Phoenix for only six months. Maybe his whole move was for this very purpose. Maybe he wasn’t a high school student with a part-time job. If only I could establish some sort of link between Tanner and Beller . . .

  I watched Tanner from afar. He had his arm around Maria, and her face was buried in his shoulder. I had to talk to the guy.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, heading toward the car handlers.

  As soon as I got to Maria, she tore herself away from Tanner and gave me a big hug. “Frank, I’m so glad you’re safe. Can you believe this?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s too awful. Where were you guys during the explosion?”

  “Well, five minutes before, we were all waxing the Duesenberg,” said Douglas. “But then Tanner asked us to follow him to the stage so we could have a quick meeting.”

  “He saved us,” said Maria. “We’re so lucky.”

  Lucky? It sounded to me like they were purposely spared. But I wasn’t going to say anything. Not until I had the evidence proving that Tanner planted the bomb.

  “What was the meeting about?” I asked.

  “Um, we never got that far,” said Douglas. “We were interrupted by the explosion.”

  I had a lot of questions for Tanner, but the guy had suddenly disappeared. I’d taken my eyes off him for only a few seconds, too. I looked around, asking, “Where did Tanner go?”

  The other car handlers seemed just as perplexed as me. “Don’t know,” said Douglas. “He was just here.”

  It was all too much of a coincidence. I had to find him. “Hey, I’m glad you guys are okay,” I said, as I backed away. “I’ll see you in a few.”

  I finally tracked Tanner down over by the stage. He was deep in conversation with Maynard Smith.

  “Hey,” I said. “Sorry about your boss.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” said Maynard. There were tears in his eyes. “I feel like I failed him. This was so unexpected. But really—who would want to hurt Henry?”

  “That’s an excellent question,” I replied, staring pointedly at Tanner. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tanner, eyeing me. “And I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  “Does Operation Bobo ring any bells?” I asked.

  Tanner laughed in my face and asked, “Dude, what are you talking about?”

  Maynard looked back and forth between me and Tanner and asked, “What’s going on with you two?”

  “Nothing,” Tanner replied. “Right, Hardy?”

  “Right,” I said, rubbing my forehead. Were my instincts entirely off?

  From the doubtful expression on his face, I could tell that Maynard didn’t believe us. “Did you say ‘Operation Bobo’?” he asked me. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, staring down at the pavement.

  Tanner said, “I’m going to find Maria. Don’t even think about following me, Hardy.” He stalked off.

  “Hold up. I need to ask you something.” I started after him, but Maynard stopped me.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Maynard said. “At least give him time to cool off.”

  “Cool off about what?” I asked. “He has no reason to be mad at me. It makes no sense. Don’t you think there’s something suspicious about all of his hostility?”

  “Not really,” said Maynard.

  “All I did was ask a few questions earlier this morning about what it’s like to work for the M&P auction. And he just automatically hates me? It makes no sense.”

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with Tanner, but maybe this isn’t the best place for you to work. There are a lot of jobs in Phoenix,” Maynard said. “Why make trouble at the auction? Especially now, in light of everything . . .”

  “The M&P auction is the best,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I want to work here?”

  Maynard stared at me. “Okay, wait. You really have no idea what this is about?”

  I shook my head. “None whatsoever.”

  “You haven’t noticed that Tanner’s girlfriend has been flirting with you all morning?” he asked.

  “Tanner’s girlfriend?” I asked. Wait a second . . . Suddenly it was all clicking into place. “Tanner and Maria are a couple?”

  “Yes,” said Maynard. “Or at least they were until you showed up.”

  Wow, no wonder he was so mad at me. But it’s not like I could explain that I had no interest in Maria or in working at the M&P auction without blowing my cover.

  I still wasn’t positive that Tanner was innocent—but obviously, I was going to have to be more subtle in my investigation of him. “Honestly, I didn’t realize,” I told Maynard. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Anytime,” Maynard replied.

  I said good-bye and went looking for my brother.

  When I found Joe, he and Chief Malrova were still talking about Henry’s death and debating whether or not they should shut down the entire auction.

  “It’s definitely a safety hazard,” said the chief.

  “But Henry would probably have insisted that the show go on,” Joe replied.

  “You’re probably right,” said the chief. “And Maynard told me the same thing. I suppose that letting things move forward is the least we can do for Henry.”

  “Yeah,” said Joe, his voice a gruff whisper. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  My brother seemed really upset about Henry’s death. Poor guy.

  Just as I was about to start consoling my brother, my cell phone rang. My first instinct was to ignore it. Obviously, my brother’s well-being was more important than whoever was calling. But at the same time, we were still on a case. Maybe ATAC headquarters was calling with new information. Or maybe they were kicking us off the case, since we were doing such a lousy job.
>
  I took a few steps away from my brother and Chief Malrova before answering. “Hello?”

  “Frank Hardy,” said a muffled, slightly spooky voice. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, who is this?” I asked.

  “What did you think of the explosion? It was pretty cool, huh?”

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Who is this?” I asked again.

  The person at the other end of the line started laughing like a maniac. “I’m not telling. I just wanted to let you know that we’re serious. The Duesenberg is only the beginning. This isn’t over yet.”

  The phone went dead, leaving me with silence in my ear. Chills ran up and down my spine. I turned to my brother, but he was still talking to Chief Malrova.

  “Joe,” I said. “Hey, Joe?” I tugged at his sleeve.

  “Yeah?” he asked, finally turning to me.

  “That phone call I just took? It was the bomber. We’re not done yet. . . .”

  9

  Surprise from Bayport

  “Tell us the story, Frank,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  When my brother finally recovered from the shock of the call, he told us about it. The news left me feeling angry, sad, and freaked out all at once.

  I don’t know why I was letting Henry’s sudden death get to me so much. Maybe it was all those stories about his childhood. But I knew I had to shake myself out of this funk. There was no time for mourning. We had to make sure no more innocents were harmed. (I was assuming that Henry was innocent—but even if he wasn’t, no one deserves to be killed, period.)

  “Did you recognize the voice at all?” I asked.

  “Impossible. It was way too muffled,” Frank explained, as he pressed some buttons on his phone. “And it looks like the number was blocked from my caller ID too.”

  “No surprise there,” said Chief Malrova, tipping back his Stetson. “But don’t worry. We’ve still got a chance. This guy knows who you are, and obviously, he wants attention. I bet he calls back.”

  “But from the same blocked number,” Frank pointed out.

  The chief of police nodded. “True, but our department has the technology to get around that problem. Follow me, boys.”