The Ice-cold Case (10 page)

“I forgot about that,” Joe said as he carefully unfolded the soggy paper. The ink had bled into the paper, but the numbers were still readable.

Frank came over and took a look. “Do you think they read in descending order as columns or across as pairs?” Frank asked.

“Beats me,” Joe said.

They looked at the numbers for some time, but the pattern eluded them.

“You know who could probably figure this out?” Joe said. “Phil.”

“Good idea,” Frank said. “We need to see him about the heat in the van, anyway.”

The phone rang, and Mrs. Kwan went to answer it. “It's for either one of you boys,” she called from the kitchen extension.

“Sit tight, Joe,” Frank said. “I'll get it.”

Mrs. Kwan handed Frank the receiver but stayed right where she was, next to Frank.

“Frank Hardy, here,” he said clearly into the phone.

Mrs. Kwan watched Frank's face get darker and darker. She followed every syllable of Frank's side of the conversation.

“Uh-huh . . . okay . . . uh-huh, yep. Gotcha. May I ask who's calling?” After a pause, Frank turned around and hung the receiver back on the wall mount.

“What was that all about?” asked Mrs. Kwan.

“Let's go back by the fire so I have to say this only once,” Frank recommended.

“Who was that, bro?” asked Joe.

“I don't know,” Frank answered. “But it was a man, and he wanted me to relay a message to the Kwans.”

Mrs. Kwan's face turned slightly pale. “What is it?”

“The caller wants you to know that you and your family are in big trouble—”

“What?” Sarah cried.

“Shh,” said her mother. “What else?”

“Seems you're in danger for helping out the Hardy boys.”

At that instant, a loud crack echoed from nearby. It was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

“Down, everyone, now!” Frank commanded. He grabbed hold of Mrs. Kwan and Sarah and threw them, along with himself, to the floor. They waited, but there was nothing more to be heard.

“Stay down,” Frank whispered. “They may simply be waiting for us to show ourselves.” Frank pushed himself up to his hands, then crouched for a split second before sprinting to the front door, where he stopped.

“Frank!” Joe cried in a hoarse whisper. “What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed! And Mom will never forgive me.”

“Someone's got to check this out,” Frank replied. “Do you want to?”

“No, no, Frank,” Joe said, shaking his head. “It's your turn to be the hero.”

“Thanks, bro.” With that, Frank threw open the
door and flew out in a spiral, landing in the bushes against the house for cover.

There was silence. Joe strained his ears but could hear only an occasional scraping as Frank made a circuit of the house on his hands and knees. It seemed forever that they sat or lay on the floor waiting.

Finally, there was another noise. It was a knock on the front door.

“Don't answer it!” Sarah shrieked.

“It's okay.” A muffled voice, but definitely Frank's muffled voice, came through the door.

Sarah herself went to the door. She peeked out the peephole and saw Frank Hardy holding a large branch.

“Well, you can be glad it was just a branch they broke to make that noise instead of real gunfire,” Frank said as he stood the tree branch in the corner.

“But that's from Hiromi's Japanese feathered maple,” Mrs. Kwan complained. “He'll be furious.”

Frank and Joe exchanged looks and decided wordlessly that it was time to be going.

Once Joe was dressed, he and Frank left to go see Phil.

“We have to wrap this up soon,” Frank said as they drove down the narrow road through the woods. “I don't want the Kwans all upset about that phone call.”

“So other than the fact that every circumstance points to the Tuttles, what do we have?” Frank asked.

“Not much,” Joe said. “Make that nothing.”

“Maybe we should ask Con Riley to check if any of the stolen stuff has turned up in Maryland, where Stu and Neil are from,” Frank said.

“Already done, bro,” Joe said. “I called him between classes. He's working that angle.”

They found Phil in his basement at a large workbench. He had computer parts strewn all around him while he concentrated on a tiny circuit board.

“Hey, Phil. What's up?” Joe said.

Phil took off his safety goggles and looked to see who had come in.

“Frank and Joe, I've been thinking about you,” he said. “I think I've figured out how to heat that van of yours.”

“First, we have something we want you to look at,” Joe said. He reached into his pocket for the page of numbers and handed it to Phil.

“Looks like it's been through the wash,” Phil said as he took the paper, which was now stiff and weather-beaten.

“I went swimming in the lake,” Joe said.

“Are you crazy?” Phil asked.

“I didn't exactly plan it,” Joe said.

“This list may have something to do with the robberies at the lake,” Frank said.

“Chet told me some house sitter got beaten up pretty bad,” Phil said. He looked at the list of numbers.

“Let's go upstairs,” Phil said as he led them to his room.

“Hey, can I use your phone?” Joe asked.

“Sure. You know where it is.” Phil waved him in the direction of the kitchen.

“I'm going to see if Con has gotten anything,” Joe told his brother, and took off.

“Just remember, the phone is the little white box on the counter, not the big white box on the floor that is cold and has food in it,” his brother called after him.

Frank couldn't believe all the electronic gadgets Phil had stacked against every inch of wall space. There were wires running everywhere.

Phil sat down at his computer and began typing in the numbers from Joe's list.

“Let's see if there's any pattern to these two columns,” Phil said.

Frank watched Phil enter the numbers into the computer. He then ran a number of mathematical tests against them.

“What have you got?” Frank asked.

“Nothing so far,” Phil said.

“Is it some kind of code?” Frank asked.

“I doubt it,” Phil said. “You see all the numbers in the first column start with seventy-three and those in the second column start with forty. Then we have periods and another pair and another pair . . .”

Frank looked over Phil's shoulder at the numbers on the screen.

“I can't believe I've been such an idiot,” Frank said. “Phil, do you have an atlas?”

“Sure, why?” Phil said as he got an atlas off a bookshelf.

“Longitude and latitude,” Frank said.

Phil let out a big smile. “Of course. But we don't need an atlas.”

Phil pulled a map program up onto the screen. He used the mouse to create a box around the area defined by longitude 73 and latitude 40. He then enlarged the box.

“New York,” Frank said.

Phil typed in the coordinates from the list. Then he hit the return button and the computer zoomed in closer on the map.

“Bayport,” Phil said as a map of their town filled the screen. “Let's go closer.”

Phil typed in the last digits of the first set of coordinates. He hit the enter key and the map zoomed in closer. A red X began flashing right in Pineview Lake.

“That's your spot,” Phil said proudly.

“In the lake?” Frank asked.

“Yup,” Phil said.

Joe came into the room. “I talked to Riley. He hasn't gotten anything positive yet, but he said he's still got a few places to call.”

“Great. Joe, take a look,” Frank said.

“The numbers on your list were latitude and longitude,” Phil explained.

“Do the next one,” Frank said.

Phil repeated the procedure and again the computer flashed a red X in Pineview Lake.

“Good fishing spots?” Frank suggested half-heartedly.

“Why hide a list of good fishing spots under your mattress?” Joe asked.

“To keep them secret?” Frank said.

“Ernie hates this high-tech stuff,” Joe reminded him. “He probably wouldn't know what this list was if he did see it.”

Phil continued punching the numbers into the program, producing more red X's on the lake.

“I think we ought to get to the lake and check these out,” Frank said. “Phil, can you print a map with those locations?”

“I can do better than that,” Phil said. He went to a shelf full of small electronic devices and pulled out something that looked like a cellular phone with a large LCD screen. “We'll use this. Global positioning satellite system,” Phil explained. “It can tell you exactly where you are, using satellites to triangulate your position. We'll hit these spots within a few feet. When do we go?”

“Now, if everyone's up for it,” Frank said as he looked over at Joe.

“I'm used to the cold,” Joe said with a smile.

They piled into the van, Phil carrying the GPS unit and the map with the X's.

By the time they reached the lake, it was dark and the night was bleak. Snow was falling. Clouds blocked the moonlight and the cold wind tore through their layers of clothing.

“You guys really know how to have a good time,” Phil said as he bundled his coat tighter.

“We don't exactly pick our spots,” Joe said.

“Let's not take any chances,” Frank said. He stripped some branches for walking sticks.

“I've learned my lesson, thank you very much,” Joe said as he helped with the branches.

Soon they were out on the lake, tapping their way
toward the nearest one of the spots on Phil's map. While Phil concentrated on the map and the greenish glow of the GPS screen, Frank tapped along in front of them. Joe brought up the rear, using his flashlight to make sure they were alone on the lake.

“Can you guys see anything?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, snow,” Frank said.

“We're here,” Phil shouted over the roar of a gust of wind. “So what are we looking for?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Frank said.

“Do you think maybe it's a guide for which houses to rob?” Phil said as he tried to see the houses through the falling snow.

“Beats me. Let's see if anyone's been fishing here,” Joe suggested.

This was easier said than done because fresh snow covered the ice. Joe used his foot to push the snow away from the point where Phil had stopped. Frank and Phil did the same. After a few minutes, they had cleared the snow in a circle about eight feet across. Joe scanned the ice with his flashlight.

“See anything?” Phil asked.

The storm kept fresh snow streaking across the spot they had cleared.

“This is crazy,” Phil said as the biting wind whipped his face.

“Welcome to detective work,” Joe said.

“I prefer working with you guys indoors,” Phil said.

Frank got down on his hands and knees.

“Thin ice?” Joe asked with concern in his voice as he saw his brother drop to the ice.

“No, I felt something,” Frank said.

Joe shone his flashlight where Frank pointed. Frank could see an indentation in the ice, a little smaller than a manhole cover.

“There was a hole here, all right,” Frank said. “See the ridge? It's frozen back over.”

Joe trained his flashlight on the spot. The beams caught something, a shiny object frozen into the ice at one edge of the ridge.

“What's that?” Joe asked.

Frank crawled to the spot and brushed away the stray flakes that were gathering. “Looks like a piece of tinfoil.”

“Can you believe people litter like that?” Phil said with disgust.

“Pretty stupid,” Frank agreed.

“So what do you say, should we move on to the next spot?” Joe asked.

“I'm going to freeze if we don't get moving,” Phil said.

“Okay, let's roll,” Frank said as he got up from the ice.

They found the next spot and looked around the ice as they had in the place before. They found what they thought was another hole that had frozen over, but it was difficult to be certain. The ice was mottled with refrozen patches where snow had been stuck between layers of lake ice.

“Can't see much of anything here,” Frank said, frustrated that they hadn't found a definite pattern. “Let's check another.”

“It's cold out here,” Phil protested.

“Yes, it is,” Frank said as he took a look at Phil's map.

At the third spot, they repeated their steps, clearing a circle and examining the ice. This spot was much like the first one. They found some ridges at the edge of what had likely been a refrozen hole. In the middle of this one was another wad of tinfoil.

“Look—” Phil began.

“Shh!” Joe said as he turned off his flashlight. Frank and Phil turned off their flashlights, too.

“What is it?” Phil whispered.

“I heard something,” Joe whispered. “Like an engine.”

The ice beneath them rumbled. The rumbling grew stronger and then Joe heard the unmistakable sound of an engine roaring to life. He quickly turned on his flashlight and waved it in the direction of the noise. The light caught the gleam of shining chrome.

“Run!” Frank shouted.

Frank and Phil dove to one side and Joe ran to the other just as a truck came barreling right at them. It missed Frank by inches. Just as it went by, he saw the words painted on the door: Green's Salvage.

The truck roared by and disappeared into the darkness.

“Joe, you okay?” Frank called out.

“Yeah. You guys?” Joe replied.

“I'm okay,” Phil said, “but I've had enough.”

“We must be onto something,” Joe said as he looked around in the darkness for the truck.

“That was Hank's truck,” Frank said, getting to his feet.