Edge of Destruction (6 page)

"Remember, we just think our enemies are part of the underworld," cautioned Jones. "We don't have any proof they're professionals."

"We do now," said the man, indicating their prisoner. "This guy's a jailbird. His name's Gus Hays. We didn't get much more out of him. We figured we'd give you a crack at questioning him before we got really rough."

Jones nodded. He turned to Hays. "You heard the man. Why don't you tell me all you know, otherwise I can't answer for the consequences.

It's not that I'm into violence, you understand. But these other gentlemen" Jones gestured at the ragged bunch of men standing guard. “They get their kicks out of breaking bones." Hays took a - bloodstained handkerchief away from his battered nose. "They can break every bone in my body," he said, "but I can't tell them any more than I have already."

"What did you tell them?" asked Jones.

"That I got out of the slammer a couple of months ago and was hired to do telephone taps and feedins like this one." Gingerly the man touched his nose.

"Who hired you?" asked Jones.

"I don't know." Hays shook his head slowly. "The day after I got out, some guy I didn't know called me. He arranged a meet and made me a job offer. He told me that if I did what I was told and didn't ask any questions I'd get my pay in cash in the mail every week. How could I say no?"

"If that's all you have to tell us, you're in big trouble," Jones snapped convincingly. "I don't think I can hold these men back much longer."

"But what else can I tell you?" Hays pleaded.

"For starters, what were you doing down here just now?"

"I was given another message to send to the police chief," said Hays. "What was it?"

"I was supposed to remind him that time is running out for the city." "That's all?" said Jones.

"That's all, I swear," Hays said. By now his face was pale and beaded with sweat. The men guarding him were closing in. "Maybe I'm soft, but I believe you," said Jones. "Now the question is, what do we do with you? We can't let you go."

"P - please--" Hays was completely losing it.

"There is an alternative, an all-expense-paid vacation underground in our part of the underground," Jones said. "You don't leave till we tell you. Okay?"

"Sounds fine to me," Hays said. Accompanied by two burly guards, he walked quickly down the tunnel.

Jones watched them disappear. "Not much help," he said. "But at least we know the odds we're facing. Whoever we're fighting has criminal connections, lots of money, and a highly developed organization."

"That makes the threat against the city even more of a sure thing," said Frank. "And as the message said, time is running out. We have to move fast. Maybe we should split up. You and the underground people keep the fight going down here. Joe and I will hunt aboveground. We can keep in touch and coordinate our moves."

"Fair enough," said Jones. He gave Frank a card. "These are my numbers, at home and in the office. If I'm not there, use my answering machine. "

"'Good luck down here," said Frank. "Good luck up there," said Jones.

Twenty minutes later, after one of the underground men had guided the Hardy boys through a maze of sewers and abandoned steam pipes back to Grand Central Station, Joe asked Frank, "Well, what's the next step?"

"The next step is to stop moving and start thinking," said Frank.

"I should have known you'd come up with something like that." Joe grimaced. "But let's not take too long doing it, okay?"

"We don't have too long," Frank reminded him. "But let's fuel up." He indicated a pizza stand in the station arcade. "We haven't had anything since breakfast, and it's way past dinnertime now."

Joe and Frank got on with their discussion between mouthfuls of pizza topped with green peppers, onions, pepperoni, and extra cheese.

"What we have to do is analyze this case," said Frank. He reached for the crushed red peppers. "What's the most mysterious thing about it?"

Joe shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, everything.”

"But what seems to make no sense at all?” Frank pursued.

Joe considered. "The whole way this blackmail scheme was set up. Why did the crooks put the muscle on the police chief and not on the mayor? And why did they snatch an out-of-towner like Dad?"

Frank nodded. "Just what I was thinking. There's hope for you yet." "Please. Don't overwhelm me with compliments while I'm eating," warned Joe lightly. He finished his slice and signaled to the counterman to heat up another. "Anyway, tell me what else you were thinking."

"What Dad and Peterson have in common," said Frank, forgetting the half-eaten slice in his hand, "is that they used to work together years ago. Maybe this has something to do with that."

"But what?" asked Joe? "And how can we find out? We can't go to Peterson. There's no telling what kind of surveillance they have him under."

"Right. We can't alert them - or its goodbye Dad." Frank put down his pizza, his appetite gone. "And goodbye city."

"So what do we do? Where do we go?"

"As the saying goes, there's no place like home." Frank was already pulling out a train schedule from his pocket. "We're in luck. A train leaves in four minutes. We can just make it."

"But my pizza!" Joe said, grabbing the slice and throwing down some money. Pizza in hand, he kept up with his brother and leaped aboard the train just as it was moving off.

Just then, he figured out why they were going home. "I should have thought of it earlier," he said after they sat down in a nearly empty car. He took a bite of his pizza. It was still warm. "Dad's files. He has records of all his old cases, including some from when he was a cop."

"It'll feel funny breaking into his private files, but I figure he'll understand," said Frank.

But what'll we say to Mom and Aunt Gertrude?"

"Nothing," said Frank. "They both should be asleep by the time we arrive. We'll sneak into the house, go to Dad's den, get the info we need, and head back to the city."

"I have to hand it to you; you do have a knack for making plans." Joe licked his lips, wishing they made pizza slices bigger. "Of course, whether or not they work is a different story."

This plan, though, had every indication of working perfectly. Their house was dark when they arrived. They let themselves in and moved through the rooms without making a sound.

Frank silently swung open the door to the den. But then the silence was shattered, and the plan with it.

"Freeze!" a snarling voice commanded. "Or you're as good as dead!"

JOE AND FRANK stared at the two men who had invaded their house. One of them held a long barreled gun in his hand, and he was pointing at an attachment at the end of the barrel.

"Know what this is, kids?" he asked. "A silencer," said Joe.

"Smart," said the man. "Real good. I like bright kids. And if you're really smart, you won't make me show you how well this silencer works." "I'm really smart," said Joe. "And so is my brother."

"Two smart kids. Good for you. Now to prove you're smart, show us how to unlock your dad's files and fast," he ordered. The man's tone indicated that he was serious. So did the gun in his hand, pointed directly at Frank's head.

The partner drew a gun of his own and covered Joe. The boys' eyes met.

"I'm not going to argue," said Frank. He went to the desk and took out a key to the steel cabinets that contained Fenton Hardy's files. He turned the key in the pickproof lock and opened one of the drawers. "Thanks for being so cooperative," said the first man. "Yeah, you're real good kids," said the second. "It's a shame we gotta do what we gotta do," said the first. "But orders are orders," said the second. "And we were told what we had to do if anyone spotted us during this breakin." "So long, kids," said the first as both men brought their guns into firing positions.

"Hey, wait a minute," Frank said, acting terrified. "You're not going to-?" "Please! We're so young! Give us a break," said Joe. His voice was trembling. "We'll do anything you ask, anything," said Frank. "This can't be happening," said Joe. "It's a nightmare!"

"Come on," said the first intruder. "I thought you kids would have a little more guts than this."

"Yeah." The second man shook his head. "Kids today just don't have what it takes."

"You kids get hold of yourselves," said the first man. "Stop shaking; stand up straight, die like men."

"Please," begged Frank.

"Don't," begged Joe.

"Drop it, you two!" commanded a voice from the doorway. Laura Hardy, the boy's mother, was standing there with a gun in her hand.

"Whoa!" said the first intruder, hastily dropping his gun. "Watch that thing, lady, it might go off!" "See, I'm dropping my gun too," said the second man. He let it fall from his hand.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't get here," Frank said to his mom. "Good thing Dad had that alarm installed to go off in your bedroom if anyone got into his files without first shutting the system off."

"Joe, gather up those guns on the floor and cover these two. Frank, get some clothesline from the storeroom."

Soon the intruders were securely tied with gags in their mouths. "All right, Joe," said Mrs. Hardy, "we can put our guns down now and call the police to pick up this pair. Then, of course, you boys will explain to me what this is all about." She reached for the phone. "Gertrude told me you called and said you were staying in the city with your father." "Hold it, Mom. Better not call the cops," Frank said quickly.

"Why not'?"

"I didn't want to worry Aunt Gertrude, so there was something I didn't tell her."

Laura Hardy's eyes bored straight into her son's. "And what exactly did you leave out, young man'?"

"That Dad was asked by his old pal Peterson to help out on a case," said Frank. "He said we could tag long, just to find out what detective work was all about." "Is that so?"

"Yeah, Then it turned out that Dad needed information from his files, so he sent us here to get it. But it seems as if the guy he's hunting had the same idea." "But I still don't understand why I shouldn't call the police." Laura Hardy was beginning to look confused. Frank paused. Then he said, "You tell her, Joe."

Joe, his mind a blank, stared openmouthed at his brother. Fortunately, an ide'a came to him. "Dad doesn't want the crook to know how close he is to being caught,” Joe said, inventing quickly. "If these two are locked up, they'll call their lawyer, and their lawyer will alert their boss."

"That's right," said Frank, flashing Joe a grin of gratitude. "So what you have to do is hold on to these two bozos for a day or so, before we send them off to jail."

"Oh, come on, Frank - "

"We wouldn't ask you to do it, Mom, but we know you've helped Dad on cases before. And he's told us you're as tough in the crunch as he is."

Looking pleased, Laura Hardy nodded. "All right. I'll be glad to help out." She looked at the boys closely then. "Your father is all right, isn't he?" she asked.

Joe felt himself clench inside for what he was about to say. "Sure, Mom," he said. "Dad's doing great."

"Well, then," - Laura Hardy glared at the intruders. "I think it's best to put you two in the basement," she told them. "And I warn you, don't try anything. I might not like guns, but I do know how to use them."

The intruders were meek as lambs as Joe and Frank untied their feet and led them downstairs, with their mother holding a gun on them.

"If you two want to tell us who your boss is, we could tell the D.A. you were cooperative, and maybe your sentences could be made lighter." Laura Hardy's voice was brisk and professional.

The first intruder, sweat beading his brow, indicated that he wanted his gag removed. "Look, lady, if I knew anything, I'd tell you. But our boss keeps his identity secret. And we've only been working for him a couple of months."

"How did he get in touch with you, then?" Laura Hardy persisted. "No lying or you'll be sorry." .

"Mac and I were fresh out of jail when a man called us and asked us to work for him," said the second crook after Joe removed his gag. "We receive orders by phone and get paid by mail. Honest. It's the truth."

Laura Hardy raised her eyebrows. "I suppose I have to believe you. But if I find out you've been lying - "

"Not us," said the first man.

"No, ma'am," said the second. '

"Oh dear," said a voice. "What's going on down there?" It was the boys' aunt Gertrude.

"Don't worry, Gertrude," said Laura Hardy, helping the boys gag and bind the men. "It's just the boys.”

"I knew I heard noises down there," said Gertrude.

"They found a couple of strays," Laura Hardy said, repressing a smile. "We'll be keeping them in the basement until they go to the pound."

"I hate strays," said Gertrude. "Don't expect me to go down there to feed them."

"I expected that reaction," Laura Hardy said as she and the boys went up the stairs. "It'll make things easier."

Joe rushed to the files and started working through them. "Dad said we should look in the stuff covering the time he was a New York City cop." He kept looking. "Hey, Frank," he said, "the files are arranged by year. Now all we have to do is search for the years when he was on the force."

"Your father started on the force twenty-five years ago," said Mrs. Hardy. "He decided to go off on his own when you two were still toddlers about fifteen years ago, I think." "Thanks, Mom," Frank said. He pulled the files covering that time period out of the file cabinet. They formed a thick stack of papers and newspaper clippings. Fenton Hardy had been a very busy cop.

"We'll need a couple of shopping bags for these," said Joe. "You're taking them all?” His mother looked surprised. "That's what Dad told us to do," said Frank. "Our job wasn't to ask questions." "Then I won't bother asking any either," said his mom. "I'll wait until he gets home."

"We've got to get to bed, Mom, so we can go back to the city on the earliest train tomorrow morning.”

"Okay. Well, sleep tight, boys. I think I'm ready to go back to bed too," she added with a yawn.

What neither boy mentioned was that they would be up all night going over the files, paper by paper, clipping by clipping.