It seemed like an eternity before Joe pulled himself together enough to realize that he and his brother had to share the same regulator. He inhaled deeply, then motioned for Frank to take the mouthpiece back.
Frank took a deep breath, gave the regulator back to Joe, and then, using a knife he had tied to his weight belt, cut the ropes to the anchor. He and Joe started swimming, slowly for the surface, sharing the oxygen supply on the way up. Frank cut the ropes that bound Joe's hands.
The Hardys surfaced. All around them the sky and water were black. The wind had blown in rain clouds and was tossing the waves violently against the boys. Joe threw his head back and sucked in the fresh air. A bullet whizzed past his ear.
"Down!" Frank said. The men on the boat must have seen the air bubbles from the scuba apparatus.
With only one tank between them, Joe's first impulse was to try to swim clear of the bullets. But he knew there was too great a chance of one of them being hit.
Like it or not, they had to return underwater to share the scuba mouthpiece. Although they were still close to the surface, the light made it difficult for the men on the boat to find their mark. The two brothers dived even deeper. A minute earlier the ocean depth meant danger — now it offered safety.
Even underwater the Hardys could hear the zing of bullets cutting through the waves, but they were far out of range. The storm was blowing in full fury now, and Frank and Joe knew their attackers would be unable to see them. They swam among the reefs, looking for a safe spot behind rocks where they could crawl back onto land.
After they pulled themselves up on the rocks they lay back for a moment, catching their breath. The waves were crashing against the rocks, covering them with spray and filling the air with a sound that was almost hypnotic.
Frank unhooked himself from his gear and said, "That was close. Do you need a minute more to rest?"
"No, I'm okay," Joe responded. He coughed a few times, then got to his feet. "We better split. They'll come for us and the rain's going to start any second."
As they climbed over the slippery rocks, Frank explained why he had swum out to the boat with the scuba gear. "I could hear the men talking inside the house. They said something about the guys still on the boat. I knew you'd be in trouble, and I thought the best place for me to be was underwater by the boat. I returned to the car, and then — " He stopped short as the clouds finally released their load. Fat, pelting drops drove holes into the water and beat a steady, heavy rhythm against the rocks.
Frank ran his arm across his eyes to clear the view. "Look!" he exclaimed. "Back on the boat."
Frank and Joe watched through a sheet of rain. Mickey and Croaker began unloading ordinary-looking, tarp-covered boxes from the boat into a second dinghy. "Rain or no rain," Joe remarked, "it looks like they're going to get that boat unloaded—pronto."
"They probably figure that we can lead the cops back to them."
"Right. And if they do go on board, they don't want to get caught with the goods, whatever they are."
"It's got to be blank credit cards!" Joe told Frank how he'd found a drawer full of the blanks in the captain's cabin.
"Well, there's nothing more we can do. Let's get out of the rain," Frank suggested.
Joe laughed. "Don't tell me you're afraid of getting wet!"
The brothers found themselves laughing heartily as they headed back to Alicia's car. Then Joe's laughter stopped suddenly. "Wait a minute!" he said. "If the goons on board guess we made it back to shore, they'll call the house to let them know. Then the guys inside will be waiting for us—at the car."
"Right," Frank agreed. "We'd better separate and circle around in case it's being guarded."
As they were moving silently through the few trees that separated the rocky shore from the roadway the rain let up to a steady shower. They both reached the car about the same time. Everything seemed to be normal. No one was around.
"Put the gear in the trunk," Frank said, "while I get the car started." He shook himself off, climbed in, and started up the engine. Then he looked in the rear-view mirror. The trunk was open, obliterating his view. He looked in the side-view mirror—to find the image of a familiar car. The BMW! Frank saw that the black car was heading straight for them. But Joe couldn't; his back was to the rapidly approaching car and the light rain was muffling the sound. He was a perfect target.
Frank moved like lightning. He shoved open the car door and stepped out, screaming, "Joe! Behind you! The car!"
Now Joe heard the racing engine at his back, and knew immediately what was happening. He reached into the trunk and yanked out the metal scuba tank; in one move he turned and hurled the heavy tank at the windshield of the black BMW.
The car was only ten feet away when the heavy tank crashed into the large windshield, creating a spider's web of cracks before breaking all the way through the glass. Joe was poised to dive into the mud on the side of the road, but his fast action and deadly aim had worked. The BMW screeched to a halt. The tank had landed in the lap of the driver. Joe saw his arms folded in front of his face, the knitted cap still perched on his head. "Take off!" Joe shouted to his brother. Frank knew what Joe had in mind. He jumped back in the car, put it into gear, and stepped on the gas. Just before the car sped off, he felt Joe thumping into the trunk. It all happened so fast, and the little car squealed so noisily as it peeled out, that Frank didn't even know if they were being shot at or not.
He looked into the side-view mirror and saw one man scramble out of the passenger side of the BMW. He knew the pursuit was over—for now. He kept watching the mirror until the man, too small to identify, became a tiny speck. Once the coast was clear, Frank stopped to give Joe a chance to get out of the trunk. "Want to ride up front?" he asked.
Joe climbed out of the trunk, stretching his arms. "I was just starting to enjoy the view from the rear." He grinned.
"Did you learn anything else at Kruger's?" Joe asked as they drove back to Hamilton under the now clearing sky.
"When I got up to the side of the house, I stood under an open window. One of the guys from the yacht was called Gus, and the other Del — I think he was the one that you nailed with the scuba tank. Anyway, the first thing out of Gus's mouth was something about the other two guys on the boat. We didn't figure there was anybody else left. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to stay and listen to Kruger, but I was afraid that you were headed for trouble. So I sneaked back to the car, grabbed the gear, and headed out."
It was two-thirty when the Hardys got back to Hamilton. Joe suggested they stop at the police station to get the ballistics report on Alfred Montague's gun and to find out how Walt Conway was doing.
"Hello, Chief Boulton," the brothers said as they entered his office.
"Hi, boys." The chief looked the boys up and down, almost hesitant to ask about their damp attire. They had quickly pulled their jeans on over their wet trunks. "How's the crime-fighting business?"
Frank and Joe exchanged a look. Joe spoke first and then they both filled the chief in on the specifics of what they discovered at Kruger's house.
"How's Conway?" Frank asked.
"He's recovering quite well," the chief responded. "And I suppose you want to know about the report on the gun you brought in?"
Frank and Joe just nodded.
"Well, Montague's gun was not the gun used to shoot Conway—or anybody else that we know of, for that matter."
"That's a relief." Joe sighed.
"One curious thing, though," Chief Boulton added. "Joe's fingerprints were the only prints on that gun. Before he handled it, it had been wiped clean!" He pulled the gun out of his drawer and handed it back to Joe.
Joe screwed up his face, puzzled. "The gun had been fired, but why would someone wipe the prints off?"
The chief just shrugged.
Joe leaned against the wall, trying to figure it out. "Wait a minute! I completely forgot!"
"You mean you know why the gun was wiped clean?" Frank asked.
Chapter 9
FRANK AND JOE took the check stubs and computer disk with them, certain that some information could be retrieved. They wanted to check them over carefully when they got back to Montague's house and could use his computer.
There were things bothering them — little unresolved things—including why Montague's gun was wiped clean of fingerprints. Why had his credit card turned up on the cliff overlooking the wreck of the MG? And the larger questions, such as, what happened the evening Montague was supposedly kidnapped, and was he holding back anything? There were so many unanswered questions—and so little time left.
"We've spent the past two days getting bruised and battered and out of breath." Joe sagged back in his seat as the brothers headed for home.
"But we're not even close to solving this case," Frank said. "And if we don't by tomorrow, we won't deserve a vacation."
Joe scowled. "All we have are names, some pictures, and a good idea who's behind the credit card scam and trying to kill us off."
"Maybe Montague can help," Frank suggested.
"Montague?"
Frank shrugged. "He's either for us or against us. If he's for us, then maybe we can get him to help in solving this thing. If he's against us, then it's time we confronted him and forced his hand."
"Okay, here's your chance." Joe cocked his head, indicating that they were back at Montague's house.
"I didn't realize we were home yet," Frank said, surprised.
"That worries me," Joe mused, "considering you're driving."
They parked Alicia's car and headed for the house.
"Oh," said Frank, remembering something. "We should get the stuff out of the trunk."
"The only thing in the trunk was me; the scuba gear's in the front seat of the BMW."
"But what about the second tank?" "Oh. Guess you missed that. I threw it at the front tire of the BMW after I got in the trunk. There wasn't enough room in there for the two of us, and it looked like a good way to slow them down when they chased us."
"But they didn't chase us," Frank reminded his brother.
"Maybe the tank under the tire worked!" Joe said with a big grin on his face.
Montague and Alicia had come to the front door to greet them. "Hello!" they both said. The brothers said "Hi" as they walked up to the door. Then Joe added another "Hi!" and a broad smile as he looked at Alicia.
They were ushered into the living room, Montague and his daughter anxious to hear how the day had gone so far.
Joe started in without even waiting to sit down. He was uncomfortable pretending to be the friendly guest while he still had doubts about his host. "There are some things we have to talk about." He thought it sounded unusually cold and began to feel even more uncomfortable when he noticed Alicia staring at him, a look of worry on her face.
"Yes, I know," Montague said without hesitating. His manner was relaxed and friendly, and it helped ease the tension. "There's something I have to tell you boys first. Sit down." He motioned for the brothers to have a seat on the couch as he sat down on an easy chair opposite them. Alicia grabbed a cushion from the couch and sat on the floor.
Frank and Joe listened to what started like a confession.
"I know more than you think about this Kruger affair," Montague began. "And I'm not exactly a retired copper."
Frank watched as Joe fidgeted in his seat. Alicia looked up at the younger Hardy, but for the first time since their arrival at the villa almost a week earlier, Joe was unaware of her presence.
"I wasn't able to say anything until now," Montague continued. "In fact, even Alicia didn't know all the details until this morning." He paused, looking from Frank to Joe. "I'm only semiretired, and I'm not really a detective. I work for British Intelligence. And for the last month, I've been on loan to your FBI."
Joe sat still, staring at Montague. Of all the confessions he'd been preparing himself for, this was the one he least expected. Frank smiled broadly, with a look that showed he was eager to hear more.
"You see," Montague resumed, "the FBI knows of my work with British Intelligence, and I'm the only agent who's an established local."
"And the government here? Do they know about you?" Frank asked.
Montague nodded. "They're aware—unofficially. The Bermuda police haven't made any progress on the activities of Kruger's group, especially since the consequences of his actions are felt primarily outside of Bermuda, particularly in your country. The credit card distribution scam is operating mostly in the United States. But the FBI is more interested in where the credit card blanks are stamped than they are with the distribution. If they close down the counterfeiting operation, then the distribution stops."
"Then you've been working on this case all along," Frank stated.
"Yes, but I wasn't allowed to tell Alicia or you until today. Even Alicia thought I could be involved with Kruger in some way!"
Frank turned to Alicia. "You're the one who wiped the fingerprints off your father's gun."
Alicia gave an embarrassed nod. "I was in such a state that I didn't know what to do. Dad was so suspicious, so secretive. When I heard that a Bermuda policeman had been shot, I really got nervous. I knew Dad kept a gun. It was always in the study and always spotlessly clean. When I saw it had been fired, I didn't know what to think."
"I had practiced with the gun on Tuesday," Montague interrupted. "Simple as that."
"So I wiped the prints off the gun." Alicia looked down, the beginnings of a blush rising to her cheeks. "It was a rather stupid thing to do."
Joe gave her a sheepish grin. He took the revolver out of his back pocket and placed it on the end table. "Welcome to the club," he said. "You weren't the only one who thought your father might be working with Kruger. Remember that credit card we found?"
"Only too well," Montague said. "I knew you boys had your suspicions then, especially when you never told me where you found the card."
"At the scene of the crime," Joe said and raised an eyebrow. Then he laughed at himself. "It was right where our car — uh, your car— was forced off the road."
"Ah." Montague nodded, thinking. "So, Kruger planned it so I was to be your primary suspect. You see, Kruger doesn't know I'm with British Intelligence, or that I'm involved with this case in any way. However, he knew about you and your investigation, and somehow you must have worried him. He decided to arrange an 'accident. But you boys surprised him — you survived.
"So he had to try a bigger production — a bomb on board One Blue Vista. A murder, complete with someone to blame. Kruger expected you to be eliminated. And he thoughtfully supplied the police with a suspect." He tapped his finger lightly against his chest. "Me. I was the only choice since you boys had no connection with anyone else on the island, and since he made sure I had no alibi."
"Then the whole bit with Martin Powers was a setup, too," Joe suggested.
"Right. I was lured out of the house under the pretext that your lives were in danger."
"They were!" Joe interrupted.
"Yes, but the idea was to keep me out of sight during that time so I would have no alibi. Then you boys were led to believe that I was on Powers's boat. Kruger knew that once you got to the boat and found out that no one was on board, you wouldn't pass up the chance to search it. You were supposed to go out in a blaze of glory."
Alicia picked up a newspaper. "I guess you must have missed today's Nassau Guardian." She held up the front page. "You two really look cute!"
Joe grimaced and Frank laughed as the two of them looked at the photo of Joe on the front page. It showed the fire in the background, while up front was a furious, soggy, handcuffed Joe with his mouth wide open. "That must have been taken when I wa
s yelling for the police to arrest Kruger instead of us," he said.
"Well, here's a picture of Powers being interviewed, safe and sound—and not dead, as Kruger said. And here we are, still damp," Frank said.
Joe stood up and reached into his pants pocket to pull out the wad of soggy paper and the computer disk. "I took this from the boat this morning," he said, directing himself to Montague.
"What is it?" Montague asked.
"A checkbook — I mean, the stubs that were attached to checks—and a computer disk."
"Now all we need is an underwater computer so we can read the disk." Frank grinned. "And the ink on the check stubs has all washed out."
"We won't be able to read the check stubs," Montague cut in, "but we may be able to retrieve some information from the disk. Why don't you boys go up and change, and Alicia and I'll work on it."
When Frank returned, he found Alicia and her father at work on a computer in the library. A bottle of cleaning material, some swabs, and a hair dryer sat on the desk, along with tweezers and a knife. Sunlight was dazzling the cozy room. All was quiet, except for the whining and clicking of the computer.
"We've cleaned and dried the disk," Alicia explained, "but a lot of the data has been lost."
Joe appeared and looked at the computer screen. "Looks like you're breaking a code."
"We're using a program that will fill in some of the missing information by running through plausible letter and word combinations," Montague explained. "There are still a lot of complete words or names missing, but at least we can make some sense of it."
He pointed to the top of the screen. "The disk is titled 'The Number File.' It contains hundreds of names, addresses — "
"And credit card numbers," Joe said, staring at the flickering columns. "Some of the entries even include a listing for 'mother's maiden name'!"
The Number File Page 5
