Chapter 11
"A FINE MESS your plan has gotten us into," Joe grumbled. "I should have nailed them all last night when I had the chance."
"Stop griping and try to get out of your ropes," Frank said, cutting him off. "We haven't got much time."
"They tied me so tight I can't move anything except my fingers."
"Good. Then get your fingers over here and try to loosen my ropes."
Joe rolled across the room, mumbling. "Is — won — irks — mooss."
"What?"
"I said, this only works in the movies."
"It'd better work now," Frank said. "Or we'll never see another movie."
The two brothers rolled and kicked until they were lying back to back. Joe tried to slip his fingers into the knot that secured Frank's hands.
"It's no use," he said, his voice showing as much anger as frustration. "These guys are all seamen. That's a sailor's knot. I can't work it loose."
"Wait a minute," Frank said. "I think Del's the pilot, and Mickey's a sailor, but I don't know about Gus. He's the one who tied you. Let's see if I can loosen your knot."
Frank maneuvered until his fingers could grasp the main knot that bound Joe's hands. "It's just a lot of loops, I think. If I pull on it near the end, I think I can open one loop at a time." Frank struggled to undo Joe's bonds bit by bit.
"There," he exclaimed, his fingers raw, "that should do it. Open your fist and slip your right hand up."
Joe turned and twisted, and the ropes burned into his wrist. "Got it!" he whispered triumphantly as his hand came free. Thirty seconds later he was standing, a coil of rope on the deck beside his feet.
He leaned over and untied the sailor's knots that held Joe. "Even with two hands this knot is hard to undo," he remarked. "There! Now to find the gun."
Joe searched for the gun under the broken boxes while Frank shook himself loose from his ropes.
"It's not here!" Joe shoved the credit card boxes across the deck.
"It's got to be," Frank insisted as he joined in the search. "Where was it?"
"Right here under a box, next to Alicia and me."
"Alicia!" Frank figured that must be the answer. "When Mickey ordered you to stand up, Alicia was still sitting. She probably took the gun."
"Great. Now who's going to rescue who?" Joe muttered. "We've got to get out of here. I hope Alicia doesn't try anything foolish."
"Maybe she can get the drop on them."
"And maybe not." Joe's voice was grim.
Frank hurried over to the door and tried the handle. "It's open!" He peered out, then stuck his head back in and closed the door. "There's no place to hide between here and the upper deck. If we get spotted, we're done for. Unless we get a gun."
Joe shook his head. "I'm sure they're not going to send Alicia down here with hers! They didn't bring us anything to eat yesterday, so I doubt they'll come this morning—except to dispose of us."
"Then we have to coax someone down here," Frank suggested. "If we make a commotion — "
"And then one of us hides behind the door and bops them when they come in? I don't think so. That's a good way to get shot. No one's going to open that door more than an inch until they see us still tied up on the other side of the room."
"I have an idea," Frank said. "Help me get that light bulb down." Frank clasped his hands together to give him a foot up. Joe unhooked a spool of wire that was hung over a nail in one of the beams.
"What are you going to do with a light bulb?" Joe asked.
"Not the bulb—the wire. The cord is long enough to stretch from the wall outlet to the door. If we remove the wires from the socket and attach them to the inside metal doorknob and plug it in, anyone touching the outside knob will get a shock."
"But it won't be enough to knock anyone out," Joe pointed out.
"The ship is two-twenty volts, and that should stun him long enough for us to make a move. We just have to hope that only one guy comes down."
Joe was still not convinced. "And what'll we use to cut the wires?"
"I still have my watch. I can smash the crystal, and use the broken glass." Frank unbuckled his watch strap and rammed the watch face against the deck until the glass cover cracked. He picked up a large piece and held it.
"Sounds good'—except for one thing: once we start working on this, we'll have no light. It'll be pitch-black in here."
"Can't have things too easy," Frank said. "Now get your bearings — remember where everything is. Ready?" He pulled the plug, and the room was plunged into darkness.
A half hour later, at eight-thirty A.M., the men could hear a faint banging sound coming from the hold.
"Gus, check our guests," Del ordered. "If they've gotten loose, knock them out! I've had enough of those two."
"All right." Gus walked below to the room that held the two captives. He pulled his gun and started to turn the doorknob.
"Now!" Joe whispered.
Frank was ready. He pushed the wire into the socket, and the Hardys heard a muffled shriek followed by the sound of Gus hitting the deck.
Gus had been prepared for what the brothers might have tried after he got into the room, but he never expected anything before he even got the door open. Joe sprang into action, jerking the cord free, swinging open the door, and throwing a fist into Gus's jaw almost in one move. The shot to the mouth kept the muscle-bound thug from shouting out.
Frank was in the doorway now, and with one karate chop to the back of Gus's neck, Gus slumped to the floor.
"We've got to work fast, before they decide he's been gone too long," Frank advised. He dragged the body into the darkened room while Joe picked up some of the rope that had been used to tie them. He fashioned a gag out of part of Gus's shirt, and in no time the thug was bound so securely it would take machetes to cut him free. "Now, those are sailor's knots!" Frank said to the still-unconscious Gus.
Joe picked up Gus's gun from the passageway. "Let's do it," he said to Frank.
The two brothers sneaked along the passageway and up the stairs onto the main deck. They tiptoed past the captain's cabin, checking to see if it was occupied.
"They're probably all in the pilothouse," Frank whispered.
"There's only two of them and two of us now," Joe reminded his brother.
"But we have to be careful Alicia doesn't get caught in the middle," Frank said cautiously. Joe nodded in quick agreement.
The two brothers made their way to the wheelhouse without being seen. Del and Mickey sat in the middle of the room, laughing and joking. Alicia was on a stool directly inside the open doorway.
Frank and Joe rushed the wheelhouse, Joe's gun drawn. As soon as Del saw them coming, he spun the wheel and the boat turned sharply, throwing Joe slightly off balance. This gave Mickey just enough time to draw his gun. He pointed it straight at Alicia.
"One more step and she's dead!" he said, grinning sadistically.
Mickey was watching Frank—not Alicia— and she used this time to drop down behind her stool. The few seconds it took for him to look her way and get her in his sights again was all the time Frank needed.
He kicked out sharply, his entire body horizontal to the deck. His body had become one long weapon. His foot landed against Mickey's gun hand with such force that the gun flew into one of the wheelhouse windows, cracking it in two. Mickey reeled backward, tripping over the stool. He crashed against the deck, his head hitting the hard wood floor.
In the meantime Del lashed out at Joe, who was momentarily distracted checking out Alicia. The pilot grabbed Joe's gun hand, and the two wrestled. Joe was as strong as his opponent, but Del was at home on the rocking boat, and that was all the advantage he needed. He jerked back on Joe's hand, sending Joe down. The gun went flying out the door and splashed overboard.
Mickey's gun had landed behind Del, and Frank had to get by him to retrieve it — he lurched forward. But with Joe down, Del had the seconds he needed to pull his own gun from inside his jacket.
; Before Frank could reach him, Del had drawn a bead on Frank.
"Say goodbye!" Del cackled as he wrapped his finger tightly around the trigger.
Joe watched in horror as the would-be killer took deadly aim at Frank.
"Nooooo!" he yelled. But his cry was drowned out by the roar of an exploding bullet.
Chapter 12
THE GUN FLEW out of Del's hand. He grabbed his hand in pain as Joe and Frank looked at Alicia, still crouched behind the stool, with the revolver grasped firmly in her hand.
"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Joe asked, flabbergasted.
"You don't think you and Frank were my dad's only students, do you?" she asked, keeping a watchful eye on both Del and Mickey. "I've won the Bermuda women's trap-shooting championship two years in a row."
"That was as close as I ever want to come—" Frank's face was just beginning to get its color back. "I owe you, Alicia."
"Me, too," Joe chimed in.
"Don't mention it," she said to Frank, slightly embarrassed. Then she grinned at Joe and said, "But from you—I might collect."
Frank picked up Mickey's gun, while Joe managed to shut off the engines. After Joe revived Mickey and bandaged Del's hand, he escorted the two downstairs and tied them up and laid them to rest beside their colleague.
"I'm sorry it's dark down here." Joe grinned at them. "But there's a cord, a socket, and a bulb around someplace." He locked the door with the key he had taken from Mickey, and they all went topside again.
Frank stretched his arms and took a deep breath. "It's good to be free and out in the fresh air."
"Yeah. And there's only one thing on my mind right now," he said as he looked at Alicia with a glint in his eyes.
"What's that?" she inquired.
"Food!" We haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday!"
"That's right. It's ten-thirty already. Why don't you two see if you can scrounge up some breakfast while I figure out how to get us home," Frank said.
"I'll take care of it," Alicia offered. "I've been on deck all morning while you two were penned up below." She smiled, then turned and went looking for the galley.
"I've figured out the rendezvous point," Frank said, once he had Joe's attention. "See this point, where our present course intersects the course we were on yesterday?" He pointed to a spot on one of the charts he found in the wheel house. "It's about four miles off the coast of Florida, somewhere up by Jacksonville."
Joe studied the map. "Kruger probably uses a local fishing boat or something to pick up the cards at sea. That way there's no chance for customs officials to find anything on a boat coming in directly from Bermuda."
"The data is probably sent to Bermuda directly on disk," Frank continued. "The Number File that was on the disk you found had only American spelling. I noticed that eye color was spelled c - o - l - o - r and not c-o-l-o-u-r, so the disk was probably made up in the states."
He stopped to gather his thoughts. "The credit cards must either be manufactured in Puerto Rico or stashed there after they're stolen. Then they're taken by boat to Bermuda. The disks are small enough to be sent by mail without arousing suspicion, but the credit-card blanks need to be hand-delivered. Otherwise, it would be too easy to trace where the packages come from or where they're going."
Joe nodded. "Then the operation in Bermuda only stamps the cards."
"And they put on the holograms."
"Then the Sea Mist takes the finished cards to another boat, which sails into U.S. territorial waters."
"Right." Frank agreed. "After that, the cards are distributed through a network of operatives." He shook his head. "There're so many links in this chain that it's no wonder the police can't get enough evidence to stop the scam."
Frank and Joe sat silently for a moment. They were pleased that they had finally figured out Kruger's operation and captured three of his henchmen. But they also knew their job was not done — they still had no hard evidence against Kruger.
Frank turned the boat around to head back to Bermuda. He radioed the Coast Guard and explained how he'd calculated the rendezvous point with the other ship. The Coast Guard said they'd meet the other ship and notify the Bermuda police that the brothers and Alicia were safe and were returning with three of Kruger's band.
With the current against them, the journey back was nearly three hours longer than the trip out. They took turns sleeping and keeping watch, so by the time they arrived back in Bermuda at six A. M. on Saturday, they all were relaxed and well rested. They were met in Hamilton by Chief Boulton.
"Nice work, boys," Boulton said. "When I got the call from the Coast Guard, I did some checking on the names you gave them. Since this Gus fellow has his official residence listed as Kruger's villa, we now have sufficient cause to examine those premises. I woke the judge and just got a warrant a few minutes ago." "Can Joe and I come?" Frank asked. "Certainly. Although you'll have to stay back. And we'll have to keep your weapons." The chief turned to Alicia, whom he had known for a long time. "I'll keep the gun as well, if you don't mind, Alicia. I'll return it to your dad when I see him."
"Where is he?" she asked, glancing around. She had expected he'd be there to greet them.
"I don't know," the chief replied. "We tried to call yesterday, but the line was dead. We sent a squad car out, but there was no sign of him. The officers left a note for him saying that you were all right and that he should contact me. But I haven't heard from him." Chief Boulton couldn't hide his concern.
"Then let me go with you to Kruger's," Alicia pleaded. She knew if her father had disappeared, Kruger was behind it. Chief Boulton gave his okay. A procession of four cars and two motorcycles left for the Kruger estate. The Hardys and Alicia rode with the chief, but nobody said much. They were all thinking about Montague.
When they reached the villa, the officers surrounded the house while Frank, Joe, and Alicia waited in the car. Chief Boulton banged on the front door of the villa. When no one answered, he ordered his men to break down the door.
Chief Boulton and one officer carefully entered the villa as Joe, Frank, and Alicia watched from the car. Then the chief came outside again and waved for the three to join him. They ran quickly to the front door.
"The place is empty," the chief informed them. "And it doesn't look like its occupants are planning to return."
They entered the living room. Against the front wall stood a fireplace that looked as though it had never been used. There was furniture throughout the house and pictures were still hanging on the walls, yet the house seemed deserted. The closets were empty, desk drawers and file cabinets had been cleaned out.
By now Chief Boulton had ordered his men to search the house thoroughly. "We might as well head back," he said, purposely avoiding Alicia.
Suddenly one of the officers called from the kitchen. "Chief! Chief. Come quick!"
The four of them ran into the kitchen. They looked around to see what the officer had discovered, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. The policeman, a thin man not much older than the Hardys, stood in the middle of the room. Before the chief could ask, the officer said, "Listen. Listen carefully." They stood silently in the middle of the kitchen listening. Not a sound.
"Wait," the officer whispered, seeing that the chief was about to speak. The group stood motionless, and finally the silence was broken.
Thump — thump — thump! The sound was below them. It stopped, then started up again.
"It's almost directly below us," Joe said, dropping to his knees. He popped up, looking around the room. "Here, help me move the refrigerator," he said to Frank.
They slid the refrigerator out from its place against the wall and surveyed the area where it had been. All they found was a bare wall and floor. The knocking had stopped.
"There's a room under here," Joe insisted. "And there must be a way down." He walked over to the stove. "Come on, help me move this." "A stove has all sorts of connections in the back," Chief Boulton said.
Joe hopped o
nto the countertop next to the stove, then peered behind it. "Not this one," he said. He turned on one of the gas knobs for a burner, but nothing happened. "This one's not connected to anything!"
The chief and his officer pulled out the stove, which revealed a trap door.
"This is it," said Joe, reaching for the handle.
"Just a minute," the officer said. "There's someone down there." He pulled his revolver and slowly opened the trap door, then he leaned over and peered down a short staircase leading into a shallow basement. "There's a light on," he whispered.
Chief Boulton stepped over to the opening. "All right, whoever's down there, come out quietly, there's no escape."
But instead of a voice, the response was the knocking again. "It's coming from under the stairway," the officer announced. He stole down the stairs cautiously, and then looked beneath them. "Chief! There's a man tied up down here!"
The group thundered downstairs until they reached the bound and gagged body. Alfred Montague was on his back against the wall and apparently had been banging his heels against the stairway.
"Dad!" Alicia cried out as soon as she recognized him. She pushed past the men and pulled the gag from her father's mouth.
"Alicia!" he exclaimed. "I thought Kruger had you!"
She summed up their adventure in less than four sentences, anxious to hear her father's story. "What happened to you? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine. A little stiff, and pretty hungry." As Montague spoke, the young officer cut off the ropes that bound him.
"Kruger became suspicious of me, especially after he found out you two were using my place as your base." He glanced at Frank and Joe. "After his men picked up you boys and Alicia, he paid me a visit to find out how much I knew—saying he would trade information for Alicia's life. He went through all my files and found papers linking me with British Intelligence. Then he really started questioning me. He knew we were closing in on him, but he wasn't sure just how close we were. But he realized it was time for him to clear out."
"Then what happened?" Joe asked, hardly giving Montague time for a breath.
The Number File Page 7
