The Secret of Sigma Seven (13 page)

“Well, I knew what I was doing,” Joe replied.

“What happened?” Frank asked. “What did you do?”

“We were right,” Joe said, holding up the black
gadget. “This thing is a remote-control device. It operates the hovercars. When I pressed a button, the car started. All I had to do to stop it was to press the same button a second time.”

“But I thought Gillis said there wasn't a remote control for this thing,” Frank said. “He told us that it could only be operated by the driver.”

“He was lying,” Joe said, holding the remote control out to Frank. “He obviously didn't want us to know that this thing existed.”

Frank snapped his fingers. “So that's what he used to operate the car yesterday when it almost ran him down.”

“Right,” Joe said. “He set up an attempt on his life to throw us off his trail. You thought you saved his life by pushing him out of the way, but actually he could have stopped the car at any time. He must have been carrying the remote control in his pocket.”

“And he lied about it so we wouldn't figure that out,” Frank said. “It all fits!”

“But we still don't know why he did it,” Joe said. “Why did he take the film and try to kill Devoreaux?”

“I don't know,” Frank said. “But I think we'd better find Gillis fast. He probably has the film stashed away someplace and plans to leave town with it as soon as he gets the chance.”

“Let's look for him now,” Joe said, stepping to the flap of the tent. Stopping short, Joe put his hand out to signal his brother, then whispered, “Wait a minute. I think I see him.”

Joe pointed to the parking lot. Gillis was placing brown grocery bags in the trunk of a car.

“Think the film is in one of those bags?” Frank asked quietly. “And maybe the master negative, too?”

“Hard to tell,” Joe said. “Let's go talk to him.”

They walked over to Gillis. When he saw them approach, the special-effects director hastily closed the trunk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gillis,” Joe said. “Good to see you again.”

“Always glad to see you boys,” Gillis said warily, “but I'm afraid I'm a little busy at the moment. Would you mind if I spoke to you later?”

“Actually, we would mind, Mr. Gillis,” Frank said. “We need to ask you a couple of questions.”

“For instance,” Joe said, “what was that you were putting in the back of that car?”

“What?” Gillis snapped. “Why, my luggage, of course. I'm heading to the airport in a couple of hours.”

“It didn't look like luggage to me,” Frank said. “It looked like brown paper bags.”

“I sometimes bring things to the convention in bags,” Gillis said, glaring at the Hardys defensively. “These bags contain some props I was going to show the fans on Friday night. Before the film got stolen.”

“Would you mind if we looked at them?” Joe asked.

“Yes, I would mind,” Gillis said shortly. “And I'd
appreciate it if you boys would let me get back to my packing.”

“Why did you lie to us about this remote control, Mr. Gillis?” Joe asked, holding up the little black box. “You said there was no way to control the hovercar at a distance.”

“Where did you get that?” Gillis asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “I never let anyone touch that!” The special-effects man patted his coat pockets, as if he didn't realize he'd lost the remote control until the Hardys showed it to him.

“You left it in the coffee shop,” Frank said. “We were going to bring it back to you . . . until we realized what it was.”

Gillis's ruddy complexion turned a bright scarlet. “Give that to me!” he shouted, reaching out for the remote control. “That's a dangerous device. You could cause a lot of trouble with it.”

“You faked that attempt on your life yesterday afternoon, didn't you?” Frank said. “You caused the hovercar to come rushing at you.”

“You can't prove that,” Gillis said. He grabbed at the device as Joe held it out of reach. The key chain Gillis had been holding fell out of his hand, and Frank snatched it off the pavement.

“Give me the keys!” Gillis cried, lunging toward Frank.

Joe grabbed Gillis by the arm as Frank stabbed one of the keys into the lock on Gillis's trunk. He popped the trunk open, reached into one of the paper bags, and pulled out a film canister.

“The stolen film,” Frank said triumphantly.

“Let go of that,” Gillis snarled.

“This is stolen merchandise,” Frank said sternly. “If I gave it back to you, I'd be aiding and abetting a felony.”

“It's not stolen!” Gillis cried. “That's
my
film. I was responsible for its creation.”

“Tell that to Simon Devoreaux,” Frank said.

“It's Simon Devoreaux who's the thief,” Gillis said. “Not me.”

“What?” Joe said. “I'm not sure I follow that.”

“Simon Devoreaux stole the Galactic Saga from me,” Gillis said. “Years ago. The entire series of films was my idea, not his.”

“Funny—Richard Feinbetter claims that it was his idea,” Joe said.

“Feinbetter?” Gillis said. “That old fool? I would never even read those books of his. Neither would Devoreaux. The resemblance to his books really was coincidence, just as we said in court. I conceived the idea for the films entirely on my own and brought it to Simon. He bought my idea on the spot. I thought we were going to share directing credit for it, but instead Simon got all the glory, pushing my name way down in the credits.”

“You're pretty well known in the science fiction community,” Frank said. “A lot of the people at this con have heard of you.”

“That makes me a big fish in a very small pond,” Gillis said with a sneer. “Devoreaux grabbed all the glory in Hollywood. He earns ten times what I do,
and he's ten times more famous. If I'd known it would end up like this, I'd have gone to a different director.

“And to add insult to injury, Simon has decided to discontinue the series,” Gillis continued.
“The Secret of Sigma Seven
is the final movie. And he's planning to start a new series—but without my special effects.”

“Without your effects?” Joe asked. “How can he do that? His movies would be nothing without them.”

“I agree with you completely,” Gillis said. “But he's planning to hire a new special-effects director who will do everything entirely by computer. He saw a sample of this . . . this person's work and decided to talk to the man here at the convention. I heard the guy has found a way to do computerized special effects quickly and cheaply. No more scale models and camera tricks. Everything will be computer programs now.”

“Pete Amchick!” Joe exclaimed. “Brian's uncle.”

“Yes, I think that was his name,” Gillis said. “Simon wanted him for the job because he wouldn't keep pressing him for proper credit, the way I did. And he'd work a lot cheaper, too. Devoreaux hasn't told me all of this yet, of course, because he wanted to meet with this Amchick person first. But I know what he plans to do. I've known Simon a long time, and I can read him like a book.”

“So you decided to kill Devoreaux in revenge,” Frank said. “But why steal the film?”

“Because if all the copies of the film were gone,” Gillis said, “it would have to be filmed again. That's why I lifted the master negative before I left Hollywood, though it took them long enough to notice it was gone.” Gillis smirked. “If the film needed to be remade, I'd be the perfect man to direct it. I'd offer my services to the studio and would finally get the proper credit for the Galactic Saga films.
I
would be the director.”

Gillis sighed and went on. “And then you kids got into the act. I heard Friday night that you'd been hired by that Klein woman to snoop around the convention. I suspected you'd be trouble. I knew who you were when I saw you asking questions at the con party. You were already asking more questions than the police. So I tried to get you out of the way, too, but I never quite succeeded.”

“You pulled some pretty fancy tricks,” Joe said. “Like letting that elephant loose and rigging up that elevator door.”

“Child's play,” Gillis said with a shrug. “It was just good luck that the elevator was out of order. A little creative wiring had you fooled.”

“What about that spear you stuck through the movie screen?” Frank asked. “How'd you manage it?”

“That was one of my favorite movies when I was a kid,” Gillis said with a wry smile. “I used to have it memorized. I sneaked in right after you entered and hid behind the screen, waiting for the moment when I knew that the native would be throwing the spear. I
always like to do things with style. That's why I've gone as far as I have in my profession.”

“One thing I really don't understand,” Joe said, “is why you were always wearing that green medallion when you were in costume. Weren't you afraid that would give you away?”

“Not really,” Gillis said. “I wanted you two to waste your time chasing disguised characters. There was no way you could tie the medallion to me. It was just a way to keep you busy while I finished off Devoreaux.”

“You almost finished off Joe and me a couple of times too,” Frank said.

“But you weren't clever enough to do it,” Joe added. “I guess your effects weren't all that special.” Joe and Frank looked at each other and laughed.

“Well,” Gillis said, seeing that neither Frank nor Joe was watching him, “you never know when I might get another chance.” His hand suddenly darted down into the dark trunk behind him and pulled out a large object.

Frank stared at Gillis in amazement as the special-effects director pointed a futuristic-looking gun at him and pulled the trigger. A thick ball of orange paint popped out of the muzzle. Before Frank could raise a hand to block it, it splattered all over his face.

“Hey!” Joe cried as Gillis fired a second paint ball at him.

Frank groped at his paint-covered face with his hands. “I can't see! That thing blinded me.”

He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped the
paint out of his eyes. When he could see again, Gillis was nowhere around. But suddenly there was the whine of a hovercar fan, and one of the flying vehicles leaped out of the tent, with Gillis at the wheel.

“Here he comes!” Joe said as he wiped the paint from his face.

“And he's headed right at us!” Frank shouted.

The brothers ducked, and the hovercar zoomed over them. Gillis rocketed off toward the parking lot exit.

“He's getting away,” Frank said. “Use the remote control. Quick!”

Joe pointed the remote control toward the escaping hovercar and pressed the buttons desperately, but nothing happened. “No good,” he said. “Gillis must have some way to override the remote from inside the car.”

“Then we'd better find a car and start chasing him,” Frank said. “But our van's all the way on the other side of the lot.”

Frank heard a whining noise from the tent and turned to see the second hovercar come rushing out through the tent flap.

Joe grinned. “Whoa,” he said, pushing the button on his remote to make it stop. “I guess the other car heard my signal.”

“Way to go,” Frank said, leaping into the hovercar. “Get in, and let's follow Gillis.”

Joe jumped into the hovercar after his brother. “Good thing Gillis showed me how to operate this
thing!” he shouted. “I didn't think my hovercar driving lessons would come in handy quite this soon.”

Joe pushed the joystick forward, and the hovercar rushed across the parking lot. He pushed it toward the exit as Gillis raced away in the distance.

The special-effects director was about a hundred feet ahead of the Hardys as Joe steered the hovercar onto the street that ran past the motel. As they hit the open road, it was obvious that the hovercars couldn't move as quickly as normal automobiles.

“If we had an ordinary car, we'd be able to chase Gillis down more easily,” Joe said.

“Just stay on his tail,” Frank said. “He's got to stop eventually.”

“I just hope he doesn't take that thing into heavy traffic,” Joe said. “I don't know if I can steer this thing around real cars.”

As if he had heard Joe's statement, Gillis turned off the narrow road he was on and guided his hovercar onto a four-lane highway. As he did, he almost collided with a van. The van skidded to a halt, and the driver honked his horn loudly.

“Oh, boy,” Frank said. “This is going to be a real mess.”

Joe followed Gillis as he continued down the highway, with drivers honking their horns and gawking in disbelief. Where in the world is Gillis going? Joe wondered as the special-effects director weaved his car back and forth between lanes to avoid traffic jams.

“Where's he headed?” Frank asked.

“That's what I was wondering,” Joe said. “I doubt that even he knows. He's not from Bayport, so he can't know his way around very well. We could end up anywhere.”

“I hope we end up in the vicinity of a police car,” Frank said. “Maybe if they stopped him for a ticket, we'd have a chance to catch up with him.”

“What would they ticket him for?” Joe asked. “Wheels not in contact with the ground?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Driving at a reckless altitude.”

Joe swerved as Gillis turned off the highway and onto a road that led out of town.

“He's headed toward Barmet Bay,” Frank said.

“And Barmet Cliffs,” Joe said.

Sure enough, a series of white rocks appeared off the side of the road, with the blue of the bay visible beyond them. Gillis turned off the road and headed straight for the rocks.

“What's he doing?” Frank cried. “He's heading right for the cliffs!”

“I don't know,” Joe said, “but we can't lose him now.”