The Vanishing Thieves (4 page)

“We'll try to have that bus stopped,” the security officer said, and immediately began talking into his walkie-talkie.

The passengers were finally allowed to leave, and the four boys found themselves behind Cylvia when they entered the terminal. She quickened her pace and was warmly greeted by a lanky, red-haired man waiting for her.

Joe watched the two curiously. “I've seen this guy somewhere before,” he mused.

The other three turned to observe the man.

“No wonder he looks familiar!” Vern exclaimed. “I think that's the man who stole my car!”

The lanky redhead was now walking next to Cylvia, so that his back was turned to them. But the boys had gotten a good look at him.

“I'm sure it is,” Chet confirmed. “Didn't Mr. Hardy say his name was Red Sluice?”

“That's right,” Joe said. “Let's grab him.”

“We can‘t,” Frank demurred. “We have no proof. Let's follow him instead. You go get our luggage. I'll rent a car and pull up outside.”

He hurried across the lobby to a rental desk while the other three headed for the baggage area. The rental cars were parked in a lot across the street. Frank got a four-door sedan and was waiting for the boys when they came out of the terminal carrying their suitcases.

“Miss Nash's luggage hasn't come down the chute yet,” Joe said as they loaded their bags in the trunk. “We've got plenty of time.”

He climbed in front next to Frank, while Vern and Chet settled in the back. Soon Miss Nash and Red Sluice emerged, the latter carrying a large suitcase. They crossed the street to the public parking lot.

“The exit is right there,” Joe said, pointing ahead. “So we're in a good position to take up the chase.”

In a few minutes, the red-haired man and Miss Nash drove off in a red sports car with its top down.

“That ought to be easy to tail,” Frank said, shifting into gear.

Sluice took the San Diego Freeway north to the Ventura Freeway, then east a short distance to the Hollywood Freeway. Turning into downtown Los Angeles, he pulled up in front of an apartment house on Parkview, directly across from Douglas MacArthur Park. Frank parked a quarter of a block away, and quietly they watched Red Sluice follow Cylvia Nash into the building.

As they disappeared, Joe slipped from the car. “I'll go after them,” he volunteered, and walked to the front entrance of the apartment house. He went in and almost immediately came out again.

As he climbed back into the car, he said, “Her name's listed in the lobby, Apartment 2B. Now what do we do?”

“Wait,” Frank said.

Five minutes later, Red Sluice left the building. He climbed into the sports car and drove off. Frank followed. The lanky redhead led them to a small house a dozen blocks away. He pulled into an open carport attached to the house, then went inside.

Frank again parked a quarter of a block away on the opposite side of the street, where there was no light.

“What now?” Joe asked.

“We'll wait a while to see if he comes out again to lead us somewhere else,” Frank said.

“You know it's almost eleven?” Chet inquired.

“So?” Frank asked.

“That makes it two A.M. in Bayport. I'm getting sleepy. ”

“If nothing happens in fifteen minutes, we'll find a hotel,” Frank promised.

Just then a small, furtive-looking man came into view on the opposite side of the street. As he passed beneath a light, Joe stiffened. “That's Anton Jivaro!” he blurted out.

The hijacker turned toward the house Red Sluice had entered. With bated breath, the boys watched him ring the doorbell!

The door opened and Jivaro entered.

“Joe and I'll do a little spying,” Frank said tensely, turning to Chet. “You and Vern stay here. You'd better get behind the wheel so we can take off fast if we run into trouble.”

“Okay.”

The Hardys got out of the car, crossed the street, and walked up to the house. They could not see into the front room because the drapes were drawn. Tiptoeing to the door, they listened, but heard nothing.

“You check to the left, and I'll go to the right,” Frank whispered to his brother.

Joe nodded, and the two separated. There were lights behind drawn drapes in windows on both sides, but they could not see in or hear anything. They met in the back, where all was dark.

“Any luck?” Frank asked in a low voice.

“No,” Joe replied.

At that moment, a kitchen light went on and they noticed that the screened window was open. Tiptoeing over, they peered inside. Anton Jivaro was seating himself at the table, while Red Sluice turned on the gas under a kettle.

“All I got is instant,” the lanky redhead said.

“It's all right,” the hijacker told him.

Sluice put his hands on his hips and regarded the little man dourly. “If you weren't an old partner of mine, I'd turn you in. Course you're doing a good job of that yourself by making headlines all over the world with that silly hijack attempt. With all that publicity, you're easy to trace.”

“I was just trying to collect my inheritance,” Jivaro said sullenly.

“What inheritance? Will you get over the crazy idea that you're a maharaja?”

“But I am. My father was the son of Kashmir's last monarch, Maharaja Hari Singh.”

“Your father was a used car salesman in Brooklyn.”

“Just because he was a car salesman doesn't mean he wasn't the maharaja's son,” Jivaro argued. “There are ex-kings working as waiters in New York City. My grandfather went into exile and passed away twelve years later, making my father next in line. When he died, I became maharaja,”

“I looked up Kashmir at the library,” Red said impatiently. “The last maharaja's only son was Dr. Karan Singh, who was elected president after his father was deposed. You've got to stop telling people you're a maharaja. ”

The kettle whistled and Red made two cups of instant coffee. Then he sat down across the table from his old partner.

“What are your plans now?” he asked.

“I figured you'd put me to work at your plant.”

“You're even crazier than I thought! You think I'm going to risk the whole operation by bringing a looney into the gang? I don't know what happened to you, but as long as you don't know your name, you can't work with me!”

“Would you rather I tipped off the cops to who robbed that bank in Boston?”

Red Sluice's eyes narrowed. “Blackmail?”

“Let's say you're going to hire me only because we go back a long time,” the little man suggested.

After a period of silence, Red chuckled grimly. “Well, I guess we both have something on each other, then. All right, you can start in the morning. But you got to promise you'll forget this maharaja stuff.”

“I won't tell anybody who I really am,” Anton Jivaro agreed.

“Okay, we'll be leaving at eight, so we better get to bed as soon as we finish our coffee.”

There was a meow right next to Frank and Joe, and both boys turned in the direction of the sound. A cat stood at the back door. While they stared at the feline, Red Sluice rose and opened the door. “Okay, kitty, come on in,” he said, then spotted the two boys.

“Who are you?” he yelled, rushing at them.

Frank and Joe ducked around the corner of the house and ran off, with Sluice right behind them. Chet saw them coming and started the engine. Vern, who had moved into the front with Chet, leaned over and opened the right rear door. Frank and Joe dived into the car, and Chet gunned away so fast that the door slammed shut by itself.

The Hardys looked back to see Red Sluice standing in the street, shaking his fist.

“What happened?” Chet asked as he slowed to round a corner.

“He caught us listening at a window,” Frank said.

“Did you find out anything?” Vern inquired.

“Sure did,” Frank replied, and related what they had heard. “We'll come back in the morning to follow them to the plant Red Sluice mentioned,” he added.

They went to a downtown hotel, where they got connecting rooms with twin beds. By now it was after midnight, and the boys went to sleep instantly.

The next morning they had a quick breakfast, then drove to Red Sluice's house. By seven-thirty, they were parked across the street. At eight, the lanky redhead and Jivaro came out and climbed into the red sports car. When they drove off, the gray sedan followed.

Frank, who was behind the wheel, kept a safe distance as the thief led them to a warehouse at the edge of Old Chinatown. Sluice parked in front, while Frank drove past and stopped a hundred feet away. Through the rear window, the boys watched Red and Anton Jivaro enter the warehouse.

Frank drove around the block and turned into an alley in back of the building. He told Chet to get behind the wheel while he and Joe investigated the warehouse.

There was a large sliding door at the rear of the building that was locked from inside. Next to it was a window about four feet from the ground. It was too dirty to see through, but Frank wiped clean a circular area with a scrap of newspaper he found and peered into a restroom.

“See if we can get in through the window,” Joe urged.

Frank nodded and pushed up the lower part. Since the room was empty, the two boys climbed over the sill, letting themselves down carefully on the other side. They tiptoed to the door across from the window, opened it a crack, and peered out into a large, barnlike room. It contained about twenty new and almost new cars! A dozen men in coveralls were working on them, systematically taking them apart.

“Why are they doing this?” Joe whispered.

“It must be for spare parts,” Frank whispered back. “Remember Dad guessed they were either repainting the cars, or stripping them for parts to sell on the black market.”

“Do you see Red and his crazy friend?” Joe asked.

Frank shook his head. “No one's looking this way. Let's poke around a little.”

He eased the door open enough for them to slip through. Quickly they ducked behind a partially dismantled car and glanced around. They noticed a door centered in the wall to their right, and another open one on the left which led into a small office. Red Sluice and Anton Jivaro were inside. Apparently, Red was introducing Jivaro to the burly man behind a large oak desk.

“That big guy must be the boss of the operation,” Joe whispered.

“Probably just the boss of the warehouse,” Frank replied. “Dad said the tattooed guy named Crafty Kraft was one of the ring's chief lieutenants, so he's probably in charge of the car thefts.”

A man crossed over to the door in the right wall, opened it, and went through. A moment later, he returned carrying a wrench, closed the door behind him, and went back to work.

“Let's see what's in that room,” Frank suggested.

“Right in front of those workmen?” Joe objected.

“With all the people around here, no one's going to notice. Where's your spirit of adventure?”

Joe shrugged. “I'm game if you are.”

No one glanced their way as the Hardys casually sauntered over to the closed door. Frank opened it a few inches and peered into the room to make sure it was empty. Then the boys slipped inside and Frank shut the door behind them.

It was a small machine shop, containing a metal lathe, a planer, a drill press, and a number of other power tools. Hanging from the walls were assorted hand tools, such as wrenches and screwdrivers.

“They must use these to fix up the spare parts so they look like new,” Joe surmised.

“Probably,” Frank agreed.

“Well, let's get out of here before someone else comes for a tool. ”

But Joe's advice was too late. At that moment another workman came in. He was tall, thin, and had a bald head. When he saw the boys, he raised the large wrench he was carrying like a weapon.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed. “You don't belong in this place!”

Frank and Joe regarded the raised wrench warily.

“I said what are you doing here?” the workman repeated.

“We, eh, we're looking for jobs,” Joe replied, hoping he could talk his way out of the situation. “The front door was locked and nobody answered, so we came in the back way. We thought this was the hiring office, but I guess it isn't.”

The workman looked them over suspiciously. “What made you think we needed help?”

“We're auto mechanics,” Frank put in. “Isn't this a repair shop?”