The Dangerous Transmission (12 page)

“It's almost six o'clock. Come on back to the flat, Joe,” Frank said. “We have to talk.”

“Actually I just got on the Tube—we're above ground at the moment,” Joe said. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”

By the time Joe got to Jax's lane, the sun was too low behind the buildings of London to provide much warmth any more. The trees that hung over the street rustled as the evening fog and breeze began filtering through. The old-fashioned streetlights popped on, but their beam was muted to a pale glow.

Joe was the only one on the block. He could feel the black shoe bouncing around in his sports bag as he broke into an easy jog.

Jax's lane was narrow to begin with, but it was
made even more so by haphazard parking on both sides of the street.

He was just a few yards away from Jax's flat when he heard the
vroooom
of a small car tearing down the street toward him. With a sudden squeal of brakes, the car came to a quivering stop right next to where he stood.

The door opened and Pierre Castenet stepped out. He wore jeans and a bright red windbreaker, and his bulk seemed to fill the little street. He slammed the door so hard, the whole car rocked a couple of times.

“I warned you,” he snarled.

15 Trailing a Rat

Pierre took a few steps closer. He outweighed Joe by at least fifty pounds, but Joe stood his ground.

“What's the problem, Pierre?” he asked, slowly dropping his sports bag on the sidewalk.

“The problem,” Pierre hissed, “is you coming to my friend's house. The problem is you talking to my friend's wife. The problem is you and your brother not paying any attention to me when I tell you to leave me alone.”

“Actually I'm surprised to see you,” Joe said. “Your friend told me you'd gone back to Canada.”

“Whether I stay or go should not be your concern,” Pierre said, taking a few slow steps forward.

Joe didn't flinch. He stared into Pierre's eyes without blinking. “But it is,” Joe said. “And as long
as you keep bugging
my
friend, it will remain my concern.”

Pierre's eyes narrowed. He seemed to be studying Joe, as if he were measuring up an opposing team. For a few seconds they stood a couple of yards apart. Neither gave an inch.

Finally Pierre blinked. He settled back on his heels and let out a sigh. “I don't need any more trouble,” he said in a low voice. “Just keep out of my way.”

He walked back to his car, climbed in, and peeled down the street.

Joe took a deep breath, picked up his bag, and walked around to the stairway that led up to Jax's flat.

“You missed my welcome party,” Joe said. He told them about his standoff with Pierre.

“Sounds like you held him off,” Jax said. “But I really don't think he's the one who took the Molar Mike.”

“We don't either,” Frank said, looking at his brother. Joe nodded.

“Jax, why don't you rest for a while,” Frank said. “We're going to run a few errands. We'll even take the raven over to Nick for you.”

“That would be great,” Jax said, getting up to collect the stuffed blue-black bird.

Frank packed the pewter fragment, the container of pearl essence, and the copy of the ransom
note into his backpack. Then he added a mini cassette player and the phone answering tape with the ransom message.

“Okay, we're out of here,” Frank said to Jax. “Get some rest. We may have to put you to work later.”

The Hardys jogged to the Underground station, and within minutes they were in the Tube—Frank, Joe, and the raven.

“Let's go back to our first night here,” Frank said as they rode to the Tower of London. “Could Nick have been the guy that knocked me down the stairs?”

“Sure,” Joe said. “I didn't see any red hair, but it could have been under that cap. And I didn't see his face at all. Remember, he didn't come back to the Palace with you after you two met with the fire chief and guard.”

“Right,” Frank said. “He told me he was going to stay late at the Tower and help with the clean-up and investigation.”

“Then the guard who had interviewed Jax and me stopped us for another forty-five minutes so he could question you,” Joe pointed out.

“Nick could have known we were being held up—or he could have even suggested that the guard talk to me. That would have given him plenty of time to get over to the flat and prowl around.”

“And we know he was in the neighborhood last night when Jax was knocked out and the Molar
Mike was stolen,” Frank said. “He popped up outside the Black Belt right afterward.”

“He'd called Jax earlier, remember?” Joe said. “Jax told him we were all at the Black Belt. He probably figured he was clear to look around the flat. But he didn't know that Jax planned to surprise him by going back to pick up the raven.”

“Plus, we were with him right before I was kicked into the tracks—”

“And he's got black-belt kicking legs,” Frank concluded.

“I haven't figured out who's behind the fire in the Medieval Palace yet,” Joe said. “But was it really an accident?”

“Hard to say,” Frank guessed. “Jax is sure he didn't take his dad's knife over there. Nick could have lifted it from the taxidermy shop. Jax said that he's been there a lot since they've been working together on the exhibit. Maybe Nick was trying to set Jax up for some reason.”

“That reminds me—remember when we all finished at the Palace and were going to Nick's flat for sandwiches?”

“Yeah,” Frank said.

“He said he was going to check in with the guard, and he sent us on ahead. He could have planted the knife—”

“And the gasoline, and even the dental compound at that time.”

“Exactly.” Joe stood up as the train slowed down. “Here we are,” he said. “Tower Hill Station.”

Carrying the stuffed raven, Frank showed the guard at the gate the temporary pass that Jax had given him. Once inside, the Hardys walked straight to the employees' building. They walked up to the third floor and into Nick's quarters.

“Nick?” Frank called. “You in here?”

“He's over at the exhibit hall,” a young woman answered from the corner of the messy room. She was working on a costume and was partially hidden by a large screen.

“That's in the Waterloo Block?” Joe asked.

“Yes,” the girl said, not even looking up from her work.

“I guess you all are really busy now, trying to get all the new wax models ready for Sunday,” Joe said. “Too bad there wasn't time to clean up the Medieval Palace.” He continued to occupy the young woman's attention while Frank looked around the workshop.

It took Frank only a few minutes to find containers of pearl essence that matched the one he'd found in Jax's taxidermy shop the night the Molar Mike was stolen. He turned them over. They all had the same
V
on the bottom that his had. But the
V
was only part of the symbol. Each of the containers that were in Nick's quarters had a bird's head on the bottom, and the
V
formed the beak.

After a few more minutes the girl noticed Frank
poking around, so Joe quickly wound up their search by saying, “Well, I guess we'd better get the raven over to Nick.”

Frank took his brother's cue, and the Hardys left Nick's quarters and walked over to the Waterloo Block. The building was temporarily closed to tourists while the new exhibit was being assembled. Frank flashed the pass at the guard, and they walked right in.

Visitors were guided along from room to room through the long building in roped-off aisles. Permanent exhibits explained the history of the Tower of London and the royal families who lived there.

The last room on the path held glass cases in which the collection of crown jewels was displayed. Elaborate crowns, jewelry, and other ornaments laden with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds sparkled under the special lighting. Scattered around the room, and roped off by velvet cords, sat the new wax models of kings and queens from British history.

“Frank, Joe!” Nick's voice echoed through the large room. “Who's your friend?” He smiled at the raven under Frank's arm.

“Jax finished it,” Joe said. “That's what he was going to the shop to get last night when he was surprised by the thief and knocked out.”

“Wow. He told me it wouldn't be done by Sunday. He's amazing. It's gorgeous, isn't it? It'll be perfect over here by the little fence in the corner.”

Nick led them to a small scene he had created. The principal model was a male figure dressed in royal Scottish regalia.

“How's Jax doing?” Nick asked. “I'm hoping he'll feel like helping out tomorrow. I have an assistant who can probably fit the teeth, but it would be better to have the master himself here to do the job.”

“The doctor said he could do anything he feels like doing,” Joe answered, watching Nick closely. “He'll probably be okay by tomorrow.”

“Just put the raven down by that man's boot, will you, Frank?” Nick requested as he fluffed up a clump of artificial heather. “I'm glad Jax is feeling okay,” he added, without looking away from his task. “I'll give him a call in the morning and see how he's feeling.”

Frank leaned over to drop the raven on the other side of the velvet cord. The wax model had on a richly colored plaid kilt, and a tassel hung from the belt.

As he leaned back up from the exhibit, taking a closer look at the belt, Frank stopped cold. Connecting the tassel cord to the belt of the kilt was a familiar object: a pewter clasp in the shape of a leaf.

16 The Beheading

Joe watched Nick closely, trying to get some clue—a gesture, an expression—anything that would indicate that Nick was a thief capable of assaulting someone he pretended was his friend.

Distracted for a moment, Joe looked at his brother. Frank was leaning over the velvet cord, studying something. He seemed almost frozen to the spot and looked a lot like the wax models placed around the room.

Joe followed Frank's gaze and saw what had rooted him to the model's belt—the pewter clasp.

Frank finally stood all the way up. “Well, our job is done here,” he said, smiling at Nick. “Sorry we can't stay and help, but we've got other errands to run.”

“Thanks for the raven, guys,” Nick said. “Tell Jax I'll call him in the morning.”

The Hardys walked back through the long building. Halfway to the entrance, Frank heard a familiar rhythm. “That's it!” he said. “Listen!”

“What? All I hear is some background noise. It sounds like chanting or a folksong—some singing group.”

“Exactly,” Frank said, pointing to the speakers in the ceiling. “It must be background music to provide atmosphere when tourists go through this part of the exhibits. But it's also the sound in the background of the ransom phone message!”

The Hardys left the Waterloo Block and began the trek across the grounds to the main gate.

“Man, that guy is so smooth,” Joe said. “He acts like nothing's going on—like he's totally innocent of everything.”

“We already know he's got contacts all over the world,” Frank added. “We have to get him before he puts Jax's invention out on the black market.”

“You're sure he's the thief?”

“Well, he's got the pearl dust in the exact same container as the one I found,” Frank said. “I'd have guessed they came from the Tower earlier, if part of the icon hadn't been worn off the bottom of the one I found. The
V
is the beak of a bird.”

“The Tower of London raven,” Joe guessed. “Of
course. He probably uses that stuff to make fake pearl jewelry and decorations.”

“That's what I figure,” Frank agreed. “And now I can place that pewter leaf clasp. Jax says Nick is really strict about making the costumes authentic. The clasp is obviously an important part of that Scottish outfit.”

“I'll bet when we check the custom shoemakers on that list, we'll find one who made a special pair of black cross-training shoes for Nick,” Joe said. “Do you suppose he's really going to be at Signer's Wharf tonight for the ransom money? Or is that just a hoax so that everyone will think it's a toothnapping?”

“I don't know,” Frank said. “But we'll be ready if he does show up.” They boarded the Tube and began devising a plan.

It was eight o'clock when they got back to Jax's flat. They found him in the kitchen, eating a big bowl of stew. He looked a lot better and seemed to be glad to see the Hardys.

“Where have you guys been?” Jax asked, ladling stew into bowls for them.

Quickly Frank and Joe told their friend their theory about Nick, and the evidence they had found. Jax didn't seem as shocked as they had expected. “Nick's a weird guy,” Jax told them. “This all makes sense. I don't know why I didn't see it myself.”

“Do you feel like doing a little work?” Frank asked Jax after they'd finished eating.

“If it means getting the Molar Mike back, you bet I do.”

“Good,” Frank said. “Get that big, hairy brown rat I saw in the taxidermy shop, and let's get started.”

They spent the next three hours wiring the rat with a microreceiver like the one in the Molar Mike. Then they wrote a computer program to transmit to it. Finally they were ready. Jax packed his notebook computer and the rat into a large duffle bag. Then he put newspapers in a black leather briefcase and locked it.

At eleven fifteen the Hardys and Jax took the Underground up to the canals and got off near Signer's Wharf. The fog was thick and heavy. They could barely see a yard in front of their feet. There was no sound other than the hushed lapping of the water in the canal against the piers, and the eerie sounds of restless animals in the nearby London Zoo.

Frank had insisted the three of them rehearse every move so they wouldn't have to talk when they reached their destination. When they arrived at the wharf, they each went to work.