Edge of Destruction (7 page)

Dawn was turning the New York City sky from purple to pink when the phone rang in Peter Jones's high-rise apartment.

Groaning, he reached for the receiver, sleep still fogging his mind.

But his thoughts became clear when he heard what Frank Hardy had to say.

"Sorry to wake you, Peter, but I thought you'd want to know we've found out who our enemy is."

Jones was suddenly awake and on his feet. "Hey!" he said. "That's great!"

"Maybe," said Frank, his voice grim. "You'll have to decide that for yourself when you find out who we're up against."

"THAT MAN'S A monster," Jones exclaimed as he looked at the photo on the yellowing newspaper clipping later that morning.

"Just what I said when I got a look at him," agreed Joe.

The man in the photo was tall and horrendously fat. Rolls of flab bulged over the starched collar of his shirt. Pig like eyes stared out at the camera. The handcuffs binding his wrists together clearly were cutting into his ample flesh.

"Mob Chief Collared by Rookie Cops," the headline above the photo read.

"Listen to the story," said Frank. He picked up another clipping. "This is from the inside of the same paper. It gives the details. Nick Trask was today taken into police custody by two first year patrolmen, Fenton Hardy and Samuel Peterson, as the result of evidence gathered in an investigation carried out on their own initiative over the past several months. The charges against the reputed mob boss include loan-sharking, extortion, kidnapping, drug dealing, and assault. Trask has refused all comment, but his lawyer, William Sawyer, has issued a statement expressing confidence that the charges against his client will be proven baseless."

"That lawyer was wrong, though," said Joe, showing Jones more clippings from the same file. "Trask was convicted on enough counts to send him up for twenty-three years, and for their work, Peterson and Dad made it to detective grade in a couple of years."

"Listen to this," said Frank, who read from another clipping. "After sentencing, Trask attempted to break free from his guards to attack the two policemen who had arrested him. Trask shouted a vow of revenge at the pair of patrolmen, saying he would get them no matter how long it took.”

Jones looked at the dates of the clippings. "Twenty-four years ago. Trask must have been released last year-unless he got time off for good behavior."

"He wasn't that lucky," said Frank. "The judge sentencing him said that no time off would be granted."

Jones nodded. "It all seems to fit. Trask got out a year ago."

"And now he's looking for revenge," said Frank. “And somehow in that year he's managed to recruit an army of crooks. I wonder where he got them all."

"I can make a good guess," said Frank. "Each of the three we've pumped recently got out of prison. He must have gotten to know a lot of men in his years behind bars. All he had to do was set up a kind of employment agency for them when they got out. He'd have a huge pool of skilled labor."

"But where did he get the dough to hire them?" wondered Joe.

“A big-time hood like Trask probably had quite a stash hidden away," said Jones. "That might explain what he and his gang are doing underground. He could have held on to his money, but no way could he have hung on to his territory.

His fellow mobsters must have taken over his turf, and there would be no way they'd give it back."

"So he's using his supply of money and cheap labor to build a new crime empire," said Frank.

“An underground empire this time so big that it's scary." He shook his head. "And crazy, too. He'll wipe out the city, just for starters."

“We could just find out where he's operating from, where his headquarters are," said Joe.

"We could really go for busting in on him and getting my dad back." "I have it!" said Frank.

"Have what?" said Joe irritably. Frank could never resist coming out with a teaser before explaining one of his bright ideas.

"I have thought of the place we can begin looking," said Frank. "The city has to have records, right? They probably even have a tie-in to federal prison records. In addition to Trask, I bet they'll have records of the others who were in with him and have since been released."

"They do have," said Jones, nodding. "It's all in a central computer bank downtown." "If we could just get at it," said Frank. "There's a chance we can," said Jones eagerly.

"I'm going to make a phone call." When he returned later, he said, "We're in luck. The underground knows where Lardner is. They're sending him right up."

"Who's Lardner?" "He's a computer expert, one who set up a lot of the city systems. But he was let go, right in the middle of a high-tech slowdown, and he wound up where he is now - in the underground." Jones glanced at his watch. "He should be here in a few minutes. That was the good news," he said.

Joe and Frank had been sitting down, and by the look on Jones's face, they were glad they had some support under them.

"The bad news," he went on, "is that Ian-you know, the old guy you found in the bed-he died."

Joe let his head fall back onto the top of his chair. "He died?"

"Yeah. Doc said that the bug the crooks used on him must have been a doozy."

"Dad-" Frank mumbled woodenly. "What kind of condition could he be in then?"

"Look," Jones said, "Ian was an old man, weak to begin with. Your dad's younger. He'll make it. You'll see."

The boys weren't sure. But they knew that feeling sorry for themselves would get them exactly nowhere. .

"Doc?" echoed Frank, coming out of his fog. "Doc who? Who's he?" Then he said, "No, don't tell me. Doc dropped out of his medical practice for some reason or other, then disappeared into the underground."

His eyes twinkling, Jones nodded. "You're beginning to get an idea of how many different kinds of people live down there. There are a lot of ways to fail in the city. But there aren't many places to go if you do."

A little while later the door buzzer sounded. "I hope this is the help we need," said Frank as Jones told the doorman to let the caller in. A couple of minutes later a small man dressed in faded blue jeans walked into the apartment.

After the situation was explained to him, Lardner said, "Yeah, I designed the data bank myself. It has real easy access." "But how do we get to it?" asked Frank.

"That's easy too," said Lardner. He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. "When I got canned, I took these as souvenirs. These are the sweethearts that'll let us into the building and then into the computer room." "What are we waiting for?" said Joe. "Let's go." "First we have to make a plan," said Frank.

"Plan? What plan do we need?" asked Joe, his voice riddled with impatience. "Today's Sunday, in case you haven't noticed. Nobody will be working down there. We'll sneak in, get the information, and get out. A piece of cake." "Well, it's true we don't have much time," Frank said reluctantly. Then what are we waiting for?" said Joe eagerly. Jones cleared his throat. "I hope you kids don't mind, but I'm not going with you." Joe stopped in his tracks, surprised.

Jones looked embarrassed. "The risk is too great. If I were caught, I would be disbarred." "That's okay, Peter, we can handle this ourselves," said Joe. "Frank is into computers." "With Lardner's help, I don't see any problems," agreed Frank.

It was Lardner's turn to look embarrassed. "If it’s all the same to you, I'd just as soon stay out of this too. I've been thinking about finding a job lately, and a jail record would finish me. So, how about if I just give you the keys and tell you everything you need to know."

"I understand," said Frank, nodding. "Sure-no problem," said Joe. He meant it.

As he said to Frank on the taxi ride downtown, "It must be a drag being grown-up and having so much to lose that you're afraid to take risks."

"Yeah," said Frank. "Jones and Lardner aren't lucky like us. All we have to lose is our lives."

"Always worrying," said Joe.

Frank shook his head. "That's because there's always something to worry about.

Sometimes I think it would be better to lead a slightly more normal life."

"Oh, come on, you know as well as I do you'd be bored to death if you didn't have a mystery to solve."

The expression on Frank's face remained serious. "This is one mystery I could do without. Risking my life is one thing. But it's Dad's life that's on the line now." "Right," said Joe. The reality of what could happen to their father returned. Just then the cab stopped in front of a large building in lower Manhattan. "Let's go," Joe said, psyching himself. "This is going to be a snap. I can feel it."

"So far, so good," Frank admitted a quarter hour later. "In fact, the whole thing-getting in the side door and up to this room-has been too easy.”

"You're like one of those guys in the movies," said Joe. "You know the ones who say, 'It's quiet here. Too quiet.' Come on, relax."

"I'll relax after I check out the access codes Lardner gave me," Frank said. "Too much might have been changed since he was let go." He sat down in front of a computer screen and looked at the piece of paper Lardner had given him. On it the computer whiz had printed very specific instructions. "Here goes," Frank said, and started punching out the first code.

"It's working!" he said ecstatically, and punched out Nicholas Trask's name.

Trask's case history flashed on the screen, including the name of the prison where he had served his time. '

"Now for the next code," said Frank.

When he punched it out, he had access to the records at Trask's prison. He wrote down the names and addresses of prisoners who had been there during Trask's stay and who had been recently released.

"Interesting," he said. "Current addresses are supposed to be listed, but look at all the prisoners that have 'Address Unknown.'”

"I'll bet Trask recruited a lot of them," said Joe. "We'll have to track them down somehow.” "There's a listing of their families’ addresses and their wives'," said Frank, who was writing furiously. "That should help. Hey, look at that name. Helmut von Reich." "What about him?” said Joe.

"I remember reading about von Reich," said Frank. "He was a doctor convicted of manufacturing some kind of phony cancer cure."

"I have to admit, sometimes your memory comes in handy," said Joe. "Although I hate to think what your brain must look like." Frank was scanning the data on the doctor. "Von Reich was released almost at the same time as Trask. I think we can make an educated guess now about where Trask got his Virus A and Virus B."

"Yeah, I think you're right," Joe said. "And speaking of those viruses ... ” "Time to go," said Frank, stuffing the sheets of paper covered with names and addresses into a pocket. But the brothers made' it only as far as the computer room door.

Joe reached for the knob. But the door swung open before he touched it.

"You kids find what you were looking for or do you need some help?" Two policemen blocked the doorway. Both had guns drawn. Frank and Joe exchanged glances they knew what they had to do. "Look, before you start asking questions, take us to Samuel Peterson," said Frank. "We have information he desperately needs."

"Peterson? The Peterson, the chief of police?" one of the cops asked.

"Right," said Joe. "Hey! What are you waiting for? Why are you standing there grinning? I told you, this is urgent."

"Just hold your horses," said the second cop. "First, let's check what you've done to these' computers.”

"At least hurry up about it. We have to get to Peterson." That was all Frank could say. The cop nodded but sat down at a computer. "It'll just take a minute," he said. While his partner kept a gun on the two brothers, he consulted a slip of paper and began punching keys furiously. .

Frank watched data flash on the screen, then vanish. It was like seeing a neon sign that kept going on and off.

Then he realized what was happening.

"Hey, watch it!" he shouted. "You're erasing all that stuff!"

The cop at the keyboard didn't bother looking up. His partner with the gun answered for him. "Yeah, kids, just like we're going to erase you!”

"Don’t WORRY," SAID the one with the gun. "We ain't going to rub you out yet."

"First we have to take you to the boss," said the other one snapping off the computer and standing up. "We don't do anything unless he gives the okay."

"But I have a hunch what he'll want us to do," said the first man. He laughed. "You kids better not make any plans for the future."

"Let's cut out of here now-before somebody finds that guard we stiffed,” said his partner.

Joe and Frank were herded from the building. Nobody would think twice, seeing a couple of cops with their guns drawn covering two teens. But there was no one to notice. The early-Sunday-morning streets around the cluster of municipal buildings in downtown Manhattan were deserted.

"Up here," said one of the men. They climbed some broad steps leading up to a huge granite building. In front of the building stood a large statue of a woman who symbolized justice.

Joe and Frank exchanged glances. Why were they being taken to a city courthouse? The men let themselves into the building with a key, then took the boys down to the basement in an elevator. There they unlocked another door and went down a flight of hidden steps to a long underground corridor.

"Pretty slick, huh?" said one of the men, following the beam from his flashlight. "Last place! anybody would look. Right under the biggest courthouse in the city. Seems they built this tunnel along with the building a hundred years ago, and then they forgot about it."

"Even better is where it goes," said his partner. "Don't even try to guess where, kids," said the first thug. "You couldn't in a million years." "Let me in on the big secret," said Joe sarcastically. "The suspense is killing me." "Ain't going to be the suspense that kills you," said the first guy, chortling at his own joke.

"You can ask the boss himself," said his partner. "We're here." They had reached metal door at the end of the tunnel, and one of the men gave a series of long and short rings on a buzzer, clearly a code.