The Demolition Mission (12 page)

Joe asked Takeo what the man looked like, and he described someone who Joe was sure was Tarpley.

“Thank you, Takeo,” Felix Stock said, shaking hands with Mr. Ota again.

The Miyagi Motors' project engineer turned and walked to the truck. “May the fastest car win,” he said as he drove off.

Stepping over to Felix, Joe said, “It looks as if Tarpley's got another count against him.”

“Yeah,” Stock said. “Tarpley better not show his face on these grounds ever again. I wonder where he's hiding himself. Anyway, it's time to take the Saurion to the pits,” Stock said, looking at the clock on the garage wall. “It'll be two o'clock soon.”

Joe grabbed a red and blue striped racing helmet
and a pair of driving gloves. “I'm sure Frank will track down Tarpley sooner or later,” he said.

• • •

“Where am I?” Frank Hardy asked himself. His head ached, and he felt a knot just above his neck.

At first he thought he had been blindfolded, but then he realized he was back in one of the underground utility tunnels. He also realized that the person who knocked him out wasn't Marvin Tarpley. The person had been very short, barely five feet tall. Frank was sure it was Katie Bratton.

He sat up very slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself if someone was guarding him. He listened carefully for a minute, then decided he was alone. Frank crawled across the floor until he reached a wall. Fighting the feeling of dizziness, he braced himself against the tunnel's side. He checked to see if Kiser's contract was still stuffed in his back pocket. It was.

Taking a step forward, he bumped into a table, knocking it to the concrete floor. A clatter that sounded like aluminum pie pans and the thunk of heavy metal echoed through the tunnel. He knelt down and felt along the floor. His hands touched several light metal rectangles with raised letters and numbers on them.

“That clattering sound was a stack of fake license plates,” Frank murmured. He continued to feel around. Suddenly he touched a heavy steel device.
“And this has got to be a stamping machine. I have to get out of here and tell Joe.”

• • •

Joe Hardy felt butterflies in his stomach as he looked at the cheering crowd in the speedway grandstand. He could see that every seat was taken, and hundreds of spectators stood outside the tall fence.

“This crowd is definitely ready for a race,” Curt Kiser called as he passed by the pits in a brightly stickered pace car.

“And so am I!” Joe called out. Then he turned to Chet. “Something's happened to Frank,” Joe said. “We didn't have any specific plans to meet, but I'm positive he wanted to be here for the start of the race. Would you look around for him?”

“Right,” Chet said, taking off.

Waving to the pit crew, Joe climbed into the red Saurion and snapped on his seat belt. Bright flashes lit up the car's interior as the press photographers crowded around.

“Testing one, two, three,” Callie said, walking up to the Saurion with Felix Stock. She was wearing a radio headset that allowed her to speak with Joe during the race. “Am I coming through clearly?”

“Sounds good,” Joe said, and pushed the button on the remote to start the Saurion. The engine caught immediately and roared to life. Felix gave Joe the thumbs-up sign, and Joe returned it.

Joe saw a streak of yellow pass the pits. It was the
Sata Speedster, already out on the track. Joe shifted the Saurion into first and roared out onto the straightaway.

Joe saw the Sata Speedster hugging the pace car. It was weaving to heat up its tires. Joe kept his eye on the starting official as the three cars cruised around the fourth turn. Because the rules called for a flying start, Joe had to stay abreast of the Speedster until the starter dropped the green flag. Then it was one hundred laps to the victory lane.

“Go!” Callie shouted in Joe's headset when the starter dropped the green flag.

Like a rocket, the Saurion zoomed low and ahead of the Speedster. Joe's strategy was to head for the inside. The power excited him. Faintly above the roar of his car, Joe could hear the cheering of the crowd. I'm going to win this, he thought.

• • •

From the tunnel underground Frank heard the noise as the race began. “I hope Stock got those handling problems repaired,” he said to himself.

Suddenly a piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Handling problems!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing in the tunnel. “It's so obvious, why didn't we think of it earlier?”

Realizing his brother was in deadly danger, Frank stepped cautiously through the tunnel, hoping to find a way out. He had walked a few yards when he saw a small beam of light shining down. He looked up and spotted a manhole cover that was partly
open. He looked around and saw two rusty milk crates against the wall. He placed the crates on top of each other under the manhole cover and stepped up onto them.

Frank raised his arms and jumped. After three tries, he finally managed to push the manhole cover aside. He jumped again and grabbed the opening's lip. Slowly Frank started to pull himself up. He crawled up onto the grass and saw he was between two buildings.

As he tried to get his bearings, Chet came running up. He'd been driving his jeep around the grounds in search of Frank. “I've been looking everywhere for you!” Chet cried out. “Are you all right?”

“Is Joe driving the Saurion?” Frank asked anxiously, ignoring Chet's question.

“He sure is,” Chet said, “and he's winning.”

“The car's been tampered with,” Frank said. “If we don't get him off that track, something terrible's going to happen.”

Frank quickly climbed into the jeep beside Chet. “Hurry!” he urged.

“Callie's on the radio phone,” Chet told Frank as he pointed the jeep in the direction of the pit area. “She can call him in.”

• • •

Joe was beginning to think that Indy-style racing really wasn't as exciting as driving in a demolition derby. He kept the pedal to the floor and eased
through the turns. The onboard computer told him he was averaging 154.26 miles per hour. Not bad, he thought. Callie had told him he was well ahead of the Speedster.

Suddenly Joe sensed something was wrong. The car roared out of turn three and approached turn four too high and too close to the wall. Joe tried to bring the Saurion back, but the machine wasn't responding. He took his foot off the accelerator. The speed continued to climb, from 162 miles per hour to 164.

“Frank!” Callie cried as he and Chet jolted to a stop behind the pit area. “Joe said he can't control the Saurion.” Callie removed the headphones. She'd been relaying all of Joe's messages to Felix. She handed Frank the earphones.

Frank had to shout above the crowd into the earphones. “Joe, you're going to lose control. Back off a bit.”

“Can't,” Joe said curtly. “The pedals don't work, and neither does the steering.”

Frank told his brother to hang on. “I don't have time to explain,” he added, giving the earphones back to Callie, “but the car's been rigged. Katie Bratton, Tarpley, maybe even Jason Dain—one of them is driving the Saurion by remote control, and they don't intend for Joe to win. Or even finish.”

“What are you talking about?” Felix Stock asked.

“They installed remote-control devices in your
car,” Frank explained hurriedly. “The electronics override the steering, accelerator, and brakes. Someone even rigged the silver Saurion so the PEST system would go black last night.”

Spotting Curt Kiser not far away, Frank ran over to the speedway owner. “Where's Jason Dain?” he asked.

“Dain? He should be up in the tower.”

Frank turned and looked up at the officials' tower. He didn't see Dain.

“You mean the Saurion's being operated like one of Curt Kiser's remote-control cars?” Stock asked when Frank returned.

“Exactly,” Frank said. “When we found the Saurion down in the tunnel, there were marks on the inside of the brake disks. One of those crooks installed receivers and solenoids there and in other spots. Now we've got to find the person who has the control box.”

“Frank!” Callie cried suddenly. “Look at the Saurion!”

Frank could see his brother fighting for control of the sports car. Joe was whizzing by at speeds well beyond the red line.

“He's doing one ninety!” Stock read from his stopwatch.

“He's going to beat the Speedster,” Chet said.

“With the course he's on now,” Frank said, “Joe's going to
hit
the Speedster.”

“Joe,” Callie called into the headset several
times. “I can't talk to him,” she said to Frank. “All of a sudden I'm getting static.”

Joe turned off the squawking radio and said to himself, “I don't know who's driving this car, but it sure isn't me.”

Suddenly it dawned on him. The Saurion was being guided by remote control. “That's what happened when I test drove the Saurion the other day, and that's why the Saurion was stolen,” he said aloud, “so they could install the power cards and the solenoids that would operate the brakes, accelerator, and steering.”

Not needing to steer, Joe examined the cockpit closely. The solenoids would be attached to the wheels, or steering gears, but Joe knew the devices required antennas.

“That's it!” he cried out triumphantly. Reaching up to the windshield frame, he felt a thin wire without insulation. Pulling it loose, he discovered it went down the side post and under the dashboard. Tracing it beneath the dashboard, Joe gripped it firmly and pulled. The wire snapped. At the same time the car veered suddenly toward the outside wall. Joe grabbed the steering wheel, bringing the Saurion back under control. He caught up with the Speedster and whizzed past, missing it by inches.

Joe saw by the speedometer that he was doing 190. “That wire only controlled the steering,” he said to himself. And now that he had to steer again, he couldn't search further in the cockpit.

Meanwhile, Frank took charge in the pits. “We've got to find Jason Dain and Katie Bratton. Callie, stay on the phone in case Joe comes back on. Chet and I will look for Dain and Bratton.”

Frank leapt over the pit wall and headed for the tower. He took the steep wooden stairs two at a time. “Stay close,” he instructed Chet.

Reaching the top, he quickly scanned the group of racing officials.

“Is Jason Dain here?” Frank asked.

“Over in the press box,” a man answered.

Frank and Chet scrambled back down the stairs, then headed for the concrete underpass that ran beneath the track. Leading the way, Frank bolted up the aisle toward the press box at the top of the grandstand.

Slipping quickly through the press box door, Frank made his way behind the officials to a door beyond that led into the owner's box.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Jason Dain bolted out.

“What's going on here?” a speedway security guard demanded.

“This man is a suspect in a case involving assault, fraud, and attempted murder,” Frank told the guard. “Chet, call Con Riley.”

“Go ahead!” Dain spat out. “It's only a few minutes before the bomb in the Saurion explodes.” Then Dain feinted right, trying to fake his way past Frank.

Frank was quick to react. He chopped Dain first in the stomach, then hit him square on the chin. Jason Dain dropped like a rock.

Frank frisked Dain, but he did not have the remote control.

“He said there's a bomb,” Chet said in a frightened voice.

“I heard him,” Frank said grimly. “There's no time to lose. We've got to save Joe!”

Frank knew Katie Bratton was the one to find. But where was she?

Impatiently he scanned the speedway grounds. Frustration gripped him as he realized the crowd was in the hundreds. His eyes rested on a white panel truck parked in front of the demolition derby's main garage. The area around the truck was empty.

Out of the corner of his eye, Frank glimpsed something move on the roof of a garage. He looked over and saw two figures on the roof. “Chet, let's go,” Frank said. Frank and Chet dashed downstairs.

Callie waved and caught up to them. “Stock's on the radio, talking to Joe,” she said.

“I've spotted Katie Bratton,” Frank said, pointing back toward the infield from which Callie had just come.

Frank, Callie, and Chet headed through the service tunnel that passed under the middle of the main straightaway.

Frank exited the tunnel and dashed toward the derby garage. Callie and Chet were right behind him. Chet gave him a boost, and Frank pulled himself quietly up the spouting to the roof.

Looking over, Frank could see Katie and Tarpley. Katie had the remote-control device in her hand. Marvin was leaning over the low cement-block wall that ringed the roof.

“You got him running every which way but backward,” Tarpley said.

Katie laughed gleefully. “When I activate the relays connected to the fuel injection, the Saurion will just keep picking up speed. Even I couldn't control a car under those circumstances.”

“You're a genius,” Tarpley said admiringly.

Frank lunged across the tar-paper roof toward Katie. In one smooth motion he turned Katie around and grabbed the remote control from her hands.

“Hey!” Tarpley protested. But before he could make a move, Frank turned and smashed him in the jaw. Tarpley slumped limply to the roof.

Katie Bratton recovered quickly enough to snatch
the remote back. Frank stumbled as he reached out to stop her. Then, just as it looked as though Katie might get away, Callie appeared at the edge of the roof.

“Got her!” Callie called to Frank as she grabbed one of Katie's legs. Frank hurried over to the struggling girls. Katie was holding the deadly remote control close to her body.

“Get your hands off me!” Katie screamed. She had the remote in her right hand. Callie gripped her right wrist. Katie was trying to press a small red button in the remote's upper left corner.