Cult of Crime (6 page)

He rose from the booth and ran out the door. Frank breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the policeman heading away from the filling station and the van parked there. He was about to leave the bar himself when Keller glanced at him and barked, “You’re a little young to be in here, aren’t you? Let’s see a card.” “I just came in for information,” Frank said.

“Card!” Keller barked, and held out his hand. Frank dug his identification from his wallet and dropped it in Keller’s palm. “Frank Hardy, huh? Had some private dick named Hardy nosing around here a couple weeks ago. He just wanted information, too. Know him?”

“Nope,” Frank lied. He stepped around the booth so he could look out the door of the bar at the gas station. Joe was just pulling the van away. “Just a coincidence, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” the policeman said, and gave Frank’s identification back. “Just what kind of information do you want?”

“Some friends of mine told me there was a shortcut to Albany around here, but I got lost. Do you have any idea where I’d pick it up?”

Keller cracked his knuckles. “Quickest way to Albany is the Interstate. You’re quite a ways off the track.” “I guess they were pulling my leg,” Frank said.

“I guess they were,” Keller sneered. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a black van in your travels, would you?”

Frank chewed on his lip as if he were deep in thought. After a couple of seconds, he replied, “Nope. Sorry.” The policeman just stared at him and tried to crack his knuckles again, but no sound came.

“Well, I’d better be going,” Frank said. The policeman nodded solemnly. “Thanks for your help,” Frank called back as he reached the door of the bar. Keller still watched and absentmindedly picked up the coffee cup again.

The black van was parked outside, and Joe stood alongside it, leaning against the driver’s door. When he saw Frank, he called, “So where’s the help?”

Frank clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “Keep your voice down,” he said. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

Joe stared in amazement as Frank pulled his hand away. “Me? What did I do?” he whispered.

“Someone got killed at the commune tonight,” Frank growled. “The Rajah must have called the cops, because they’re looking for a guy named Joe who’s driving a black van.”

“By now, every cop in the state will be looking for us. We’ve got to dump the van.”

“I’ll wake Holly,” Joe said. “You heard what she said. If it wasn’t for you, she’d be back with the Rajah right now. We can’t get caught before we get her home.”

Behind them, there was the sharp click of a revolver being cocked. The Hardys turned slowly to see Keller leveling a gun at them.

“Consider yourselves caught, boys,” the policeman said. “Justice may be blind, but I ain’t.”

“YOU’VE GOT THE situation all wrong, Sheriff,” Frank began. “We didn’t - ” “Shut up,” Keller barked. “Don’t matter to me what the situation is. All I know is that the fellow up the hill pays me a lot of money to keep trouble away from him.” His lip curled, exposing nicotine-stained teeth. ‘And you boys are trouble.” Joe clenched his fists. He took a step toward Keller. Keller aimed his gun at Joe’s nose. “Tough guy, huh?” Keller said. “Come on. I dare you. Come on!” “No, Joe,” Frank said calmly. Joe shook with anger for a moment, then his hands fell open. He backed away. Keller waved them to the back of the van with his gun. “This where you’ve got the girl?

Did you really think you could get her down this hill without getting caught?”

“Listen,” Joe said, “you’ve got to see that she gets back to her father. It’s important.”

Keller snickered. “She’s going back up the hill, boys. Where she belongs. If her daddy wants her, he’d better go up there and ask real nice.” He grabbed the back door handle and turned it, releasing the catch.

The door slammed open, smashing into Keller. He toppled backward, spinning clumsily and trying to aim his revolver. Joe lunged at him, grabbing his wrist. The gun went off, spitting a bullet harmlessly into the ground.

Joe socked Keller. The sheriff toppled. He lay still on the ground.

“That awful man!” Holly cried, terror in her voice. “I’ve seen him at the commune. You can’t let him take me back. You can’t.” Her voice disintegrated into choked sobs.

In houses and buildings all around, lights came on.

“Let’s go,” Frank said. “That shot must’ve woken the whole town. We’ll never be able to explain beating up a cop, at least not in time to do Holly any good.”

“Right,” Joe replied. He jumped into the van past Holly, who was trying to catch her breath. As his fingers tapped the van’s walls, paneling fell open to reveal hidden chambers. From one, Joe snatched three insulated jackets, and from another a pair of survival knives.

Finally, from the van’s front panel, he disconnected the shortwave transmitter-receiver. “What’s going on?” Holly asked.

“Hey!” cried a voice from down the street. It was the deputy. “Hey!” “We’re going the rest of the way on foot,” Frank said. He helped Holly out of the van, but warily kept his eye on the deputy, who was running toward them, drawing his gun as he neared.

“The Rajah pulled a fast one,” Joe added.

“We’ve got to ditch the van or it’s all over.” He tossed a jacket to Holly. “Put this on. It’ll be a little big, but it’s better than freezing to death.”

He handed Frank a jacket and a knife. The deputy had almost reached them when his eyes fell on the prone form of the sheriff. With a gasp, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Sheriff Keller?” he said dumbly, as if awaiting a response.

Frank and Joe each grabbed one of Holly’s arms and hurried her into the darkness. Alerted by the motion, the deputy raised his gun. He was too late. By then Frank, Joe, and Holly were fading into the shadows. The deputy leaped over the sheriff and ran around the van, then stared into the night.

The fugitives were gone, their trail marked only by a faint rustling of leaves that seemed to come from all around.

Joe pushed aside a tree branch, holding it so that Holly could pass. Frank stayed several paces behind them, watching for signs of pursuit. The lights of Pickwee could be seen above them on the mountain, and more lights were turned on there by the minute.

But so far no one was on their trail. Frank was grateful for that much, at least, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Keller came to. Then the hunt for them would be on.

They had to find help.

But where? he wondered. He was sure they could make it down the mountain if luck stayed with them, but how could they get back to Bayport once they got to the highway? It would take days to get home on foot, and every minute they spent in the open increased their chances of getting caught. The highway patrol would certainly be looking for them.

Besides, Frank doubted that Holly could hold up. She was too fragile, a delicate flower. He just wanted to protect her, to keep her safe in his arms.

Frank snapped to attention, startled by that thought. He looked again over his shoulder, but the woods were still quiet except for the sound of Joe hacking away at the brush with his knife.

Holly marched behind Joe, easily keeping pace as if she were fresh and they were out for a jaunt and none of the day’s events had happened. So, she had reservoirs of courage and strength after all, Frank realized. She was everything he could hope for.

Frank snapped to attention again. I’m falling in love with her, he thought. I really am. He found the thought oddly upsetting.

For what seemed like hours, the three continued through the woods and down the mountainside.

“What’s that?” Holly-asked, after they had walked several miles. She pointed through the trees.

Joe Hardy squinted. He could see nothing unusual in the endless swirl of bark and branches and leaves. There was nothing, he knew, except illusions caused by the moon reflecting off “What’s the matter?” Frank asked as his brother stopped abruptly. “The moon,” Joe replied. “Moonlight’s reflecting against something over there. Glass, I think.

They pushed through the brush, heading for the light.

The cabin they found was made of logs and plastered together with dried mud. It was half hidden in the woods, in the smallest of clearings. There were no roads to it, and tree limbs blocked any view of it from the air. There was simply no way of telling it was there without stumbling on to it as they had done.

Frank crept up to the building, flattened himself against it, and craned his neck to peer through the window. Nothing moved inside the cabin. It housed a, crude table and an old bed, both carved from logs, like the cabin itself. Dust carpeted the floor. There was no sign that anyone had been inside it for years.

“I think it’s deserted,” Frank said. “It’s as good a place as any to stop and rest until sun rise.”

Fear welled up in Holly’s eyes again. “Those men,” she said, her lips trembling. “They’ll find us. They’ll catch us.”

“No, Frank’s right,” replied Joe. “We don’t even know for sure if we’re being followed. If we are, they’re nowhere near us, and they could miss this cabin as easily as we almost did.”

“If they haven’t caught up with us by now, odds are we don’t have to worry about them,” Frank agreed. “It’s what’s ahead that we have to be prepared for.”

Holly nodded, but there was still a hint of doubt in her slight smile. She tried the cabin door. It swung open at her touch.

“Go on in,” Joe told Holly. “You’ll be safe. We’ve got some things to do.” She nodded again, then vanished into the cabin.

When she was out of sight, Joe unstrapped the communicator from his back, set it on the ground in front of him, and raised its antenna. Quickly he twisted the dial to a secret radio frequency and slipped in a special scrambler circuit. It was used only by members-of the clandestine government agency called the Network.

“Hardys calling Gray Man,” he said into his handset. “Hardys calling Gray Man. Come in, Gray Man. Mayday. Mayday.” White noise crackled unintelligibly on the speaker. Slowly a voice rose out of the static.

“I read you, Hardy,” it said.

It was the Gray Man. Frank took the microphone as Joe fine-tuned the signal “We’ve run into some trouble, Gray Man,” Frank said. “We could use some backup.”

“Negative,” the Gray Man replied. “We are fully apprised of your situation. Until the charges against you have been dropped, this agency can’t afford to become involved.”

Joe took back the microphone. “We understand,” he said. It was a lie. He didn’t understand, but he knew there was nothing to be gained by challenging the Gray Man’s decision. “At least send someone to Pickwee to get the van. We had to leave it there.” “Affirmative,” the Gray Man’s voice said. “Contact me again when it’s over. And good luck.” A loud click sounded, and. white noise filled the airwaves.

Frank sighed. “Looks like we’re on our own. Might as well leave the communicator here. It won’t do us any good, and it’ll only slow us down. ” A scream ripped from the cabin.

Holly!” Frank cried. Unsheathing his knife, he kicked in the cabin door. Holly was on the floor, crawling backward toward him. Her shrieks filled the air, but he couldn’t see what she was shrieking at.

Then a creature with matted hair and mad eyes rose from the floor. It was giant, and in the darkness, it seemed like an ogre risen from the night. There had been no one in the cabin before, and no door except the one in front.

How did it get in? Frank wondered. He peered at the creature, and it became a bearded man who stood well over six feet tall. Long hair and a beard framed his face. In his hands was an ancient shotgun. It was aimed at Frank.

FRANK’S BREATH CAUGHT in his throat. He had faced death many times before, and he would have thought its nearness could no longer affect him. But it did. Each time it came in some new form, equally dangerous and frightening.

The giant with the old gun was no exception. His matted, unkempt hair and his ragged clothes were laughable, but nothing was funny about the deadly weapon he held.

“Keep cool,” Frank said. He raised his hands over his head. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

As the giant approached, Frank slowly moved toward the near wall.

“My house,” the giant said as they circled around each other. “You shouldn’t be in Rosie’s house.”

“Rosie, huh? I bet you’re named for your rosy personality,” Frank quipped, He wished he were as confident as he sounded. Holly was curled up in the corner, trembling with fear. He couldn’t depend on her in a fight.

The giant called Rosie steadied the gun. “Hold still,” he growled. Frank kept circling. He stopped finally at the back wall of the cabin. Rosie stood silhouetted against the window, his huge frame almost blocking out the moonlight.

“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” Rosie muttered. He peered with one eye down the shotgun barrel until Frank was locked in his sights. “This’ll make you smart, smart boy.”

He cocked back the shotgun’s hammer with his thumb. His finger tightened around the trigger.

At that moment, Joe crashed through the window, smashing into Rosie’s back. The giant tumbled forward and landed on his knees. His shotgun skidded across the floor and came to a halt at Frank’s feet. Joe scrambled onto the giant and pinned him to the ground.

“You tricked me,” Rosie muttered. Still stunned, he shook his head, and long strands of his hair whipped across Joe’s chest. Bits of windowpane fell from his shoulders.

“Down, boy,” Joe said as Rosie tried to stand.

He shifted his weight onto the giant’s shoulders to force him down again. To his surprise, Rosie didn’t even seem to notice he was there, rising up stiffly, a growl forming in his throat. Frank picked up the shotgun.

The giant lurched back suddenly, slamming Joe into the wall. The wind was knocked out of Joe, and he stumbled, his hand clutching at his chest. Rosie’s arm locked around his neck. The giant started to squeeze.

Frank took careful aim with the shotgun. “Drop him!” he shouted.

Rosie grinned savagely and tightened his grip on Joe’s throat. “He hasn’t got much time left.”

He squeezed again for emphasis. Joe sputtered and coughed. “Better give me the gun, boy. Otherwise … “