Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Highway Robbery (11 page)
***
Two hours later Frank and Joe pulled off the highway and into a huge truck stop. Joe was impressed by the activity as they walked into the busy restaurant. Dozens of tables were filled with truckers who were chowing down, drinking strong coffee, making calls from the telephones placed at each table, exchanging news with buddies, and joking with the waitresses. Looking to the far end of the restaurant, Joe saw there was an area where some gearjammers were renting towels to take showers or catching naps.
He spotted Pat Mulvaney and Matt Simone in one of the booths. Matt gave them a high sign, and he and Frank went over. Pat was just finishing a piece of apple pie, and Matt had a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Everything should be ready to go," Joe told them.
Pat pushed away her plate. "Hal must be in place by now." Hal Brady and Tony were supposed to be parked in a rest stop a few miles farther up the road. It had been decided that it would be better if all three vehicles didn't rendezvous together.
"Okay," said Matt. "The turnoff onto the local road is maybe ten minutes from here. Give us about that long before you get back on the road, and check in with Hal when you do. We'll see you a little later this afternoon."
"That's a ten-four," Joe replied, putting a CB twang in his voice. "Keep the metal side up and the rubber side down, now."
"I sure hope MacReedy's on time," Pat said. She seemed edgy but managed a laugh. "It's kind of funny. Here I am a trucker, and I'm actually looking forward to seeing Smokey. Must be a first."
Joe knew that "Smokey" was trucker's CB lingo for a law officer.
"Let's go, Pat," said Matt. He dropped a couple of bills on the table, gave Frank and Joe a quick thumbs-up sign, and walked out of the restaurant with his sister-in-law.
When the brothers got into their car a few minutes later, Joe picked up the CB mike.
"Mr. P., this is Tailend Charlie. Come in, Mr. P., over."
Tony's voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
"Tailend Charlie, this is Mr. P. We are in position, and ready to move, over."
"When we pass your location, we'll give you a holler," Joe said. "Any questions?"
"Negative," Tony answered. "Over and out."
Frank moved out onto the highway. As he navigated through the traffic, Joe kept his eye out for the rest area where Hal and Tony were waiting. When it came into view, he picked up the mike again.
"Mr. P., we are passing your position now, over."
"Roger. Good luck."
Joe replaced the mike on its bracket. A short time later Frank saw his exit and turned off. There was very little traffic, he was happy to see. He didn't want anything to discourage the hijackers from their attempt.
Less than a mile after they'd left the highway, they heard the wail of a siren from behind them. A patrol car, lights flashing, appeared in their rear-view mirror.
"Can't be for us," said Frank.
Joe craned around to look at the car as it rapidly overtook them.
"It's MacReedy!" he exclaimed.
The deputy drew up beside the Hardys, and he waved at them, signaling for them to pull over. Pressing down on the brakes, Frank eased the rental car over to the shoulder of the road and stopped.
"Where are the rest of his men?" Joe wondered aloud.
"He must've sent them ahead," Frank guessed. "Or you know, we might be over the county line, out of his jurisdiction. Maybe he's called in the state police on this, and he's just coming to observe."
MacReedy pulled onto the shoulder behind them. Getting out of the patrol car, he strolled up to the Hardys. Frank rolled down his window.
"Hello there," said MacReedy. Casually he drew his service revolver from its holster and stuck its barrel under Frank's nose. He smiled thinly. "Looks like you two are in for a change of plan."
MacReedy kept his gun trained on Frank's head. Easing open the rear door of the car, he slid inside.
"Just drive, son," said the deputy. "And if you think you can pull some kind of fancy maneuver with this car before I put a bullet in your head, why, you just try it."
Frank stared from the gun to MacReedy and back to the gun again. MacReedy was in it with Gerard! What had they gotten themselves into?
"Where are we going?" asked Joe.
"I'll give you directions," MacReedy replied gruffly. He rested the barrel of his gun on the seat back behind Frank. "You two aren't quite as smart as you think you are."
"Meaning what, exactly?" Frank said, although he knew very well what the deputy meant. Still, maybe they could get him talking, buy some time.
"Calling me up like you did and telling me everything. No sir, you boys aren't that bright after all. Your old man is going to be disappointed in you."
"Dad said that you were a good cop when he knew you," Frank went on, not taking his eyes from the road. He tried not to think too much about the gun a few inches from his neck. "He'll be disappointed in you, too."
"Good cop?" MacReedy made a harsh, ugly laugh. "Yeah, I was a good cop. I had what it takes. Guts, brains, ambition - the works. I ought to have gone a lot further than I did, but your daddy saw to it that it wouldn't happen that way. I busted a couple of crooks, and he blew the whistle on me, told my boss I'd cooked up a little evidence to make certain the bust would stick."
"Did you?" Joe asked.
"Sure I did! Those creeps were guilty, but they might've gotten off if I hadn't done what I did. But your old man - oh, no, mustn't bend a rule, better to let a couple of crooks get away than tamper a little bit with the evidence. He ruined my career. I'm lucky I made it this far - a lousy chief deputy in a county department."
Deputy MacReedy was really warming to his story now. "Well, I got tired of getting by on a chief deputy's pay, figured I could get my hands on more. And I did, too. Then you came along and tried to mess me up," MacReedy sneered, "just like your daddy did once before. Only now, it isn't going to work. It's payback time, boys. There's a driveway just up ahead on the right. Turn into it."
Frank swung the car into the driveway and felt it bump along on the uneven surface. The drive didn't look as though it was used much. It was covered with potholes and wild grass, and it opened into a cracked and weedy parking lot. At one end Frank saw a restaurant with shuttered windows. Obviously, the place had been closed for a long time.
They weren't alone. Frank noted the Lombard truck over to one side, and another tractor, without any trailer, not far away. Pat and Matt stood under the watchful eyes of Turk and the other three members of the gang, all of whom were armed. With them was Lou Gerard.
Joe's stomach lurched as he realized that none of the toughs wore masks. He and Frank had seen all the faces before. He breathed deeply, knowing that it was vital for him and Frank to keep their heads and not panic.
Joe read aloud from a faded sign in old English lettering that rested on the peak of the restaurant roof. "The Coach House. How's the food here, MacReedy? Did you and Gerard get together here for planning sessions over a steak and a baked potato?"
"Always got time for a gag, huh?" said the deputy, opening the car's rear door. "Well, the last joke today is going to be on you. Get out, slow, and join your friends over there."
Seeing the new arrivals, Gerard walked over to meet them. "We've got some plans to work out," he told MacReedy. "Leave these two with the others and let's talk. We don't have much time."
"Relax, Gerard," said the deputy. "This place has been closed for years. Nobody's going to stumble over us while we're here."
"Bruno! Turk!" called Gerard. The tall thug who seemed to run the gang's operations came over with his short, squat assistant. "Take these two over to the truck. And don't let 'em pull any stunts!"
Bruno nodded and gestured with his pistol for the Hardys to walk in front of him. Turk couldn't resist gloating a little.
"Well, if it ain't the two wise guys! What's the matter, huh? Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?" He laughed at his own cleverness. No one else did.
Matt's face registered his shock at seeing Deputy MacReedy holding a gun on the Hardys.
"MacReedy - You mean he's - "
"Crooked as a corkscrew," Frank finished. "And we went and called him up and dumped everything we knew in his lap. Are we a couple of dynamite detectives, or what?"
"Don't be hard on yourselves," Pat said. "You couldn't have figured on the man being a criminal. Why did he do it, I wonder?"
"He says he got tired of living on a deputy's salary," said Joe. "My guess is he's getting a nice cut of this operation and that Gerard was planning on expanding the operation by squeezing every trucking company he could reach. Having a lawman on the payroll would be useful in a lot of ways. He could give you inside dope on what the police were doing. In a pinch he could tamper with evidence or deliberately screw up an arrest so a case would be dropped in court."
"Do you know any of these guys?" Frank asked Matt in a low voice, gesturing toward the hijackers. "We know who Turk is, but do these others all have trucking experience?"
Matt nodded. "That big guy, Bruno - he used to work for an outfit I worked for before I started Lombard. Everyone suspected he was padding his expenses and stealing stuff from his shipments, but nobody would face up to him - too big and too mean.
"One of the other two I've seen around, maybe at the truck stops getting a cup of coffee. But he's a trucker, I could tell from the way he moved my rig over here before. I figure they're all truck drivers who either couldn't get honest jobs or didn't want to."
They talked quietly until Lou Gerard came over and stood in front of them.
"Leonard Garry, I presume," said Frank. There wasn't any point in concealing what they knew, and he was curious about a few things.
The union man smiled. "You did some homework. You're smart, kid, but you'd have been smarter to stay out of the deep water, where the sharks are."
"Why'd you knock off your buddy Mickey Vane?" asked Frank. "That kind of has me puzzled."
Gerard sighed. "The man was stupid and had a bad case of big eyes. It's a dangerous combination. His orders were to warehouse the components we stole and maybe eventually sell them overseas - a long way from here, in any case.
"Instead, he set up that warehouse to sell off the goods here, only a few miles from where they'd been stolen. See what I mean - stupid and greedy! So we shut him down. Permanently. Just like we're going to do with you."
Joe didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. "And the check to Vane - forged, right?" he asked quickly.
Gerard grinned and nodded.
Bruno had unhitched the Lombard trailer from its tractor, Joe saw, and was now backing the other tractor into place. Deciding to take advantage of Gerard's talkative mood, he tried to buy some additional time.
"What now, Gerard? Or Garry, or whatever your real name is? Are your bags packed for a quick getaway?"
Gerard looked sad for a moment. "I really thought I had a sweet setup here. Once Lombard went out of business, I figured every other trucking company in the area would line up to make their payoffs and avoid the same thing happening to them. It would've been nice - if you hadn't gotten in the way. But there are other cities, other false IDs, and lots of money floating around, if you know how to pick it up."
"What are you doing with the shipment on that truck?" Joe asked.
"I'm letting Bruno and his men have the contents of the truck," Gerard told him. "They deserve a little bonus, something more than we paid them. After all, now they have to start a new life somewhere else, and that can be expensive. So they can sell the electronics and split the take. Treat your help right, and they won't get mad at you. Isn't that right, Mr. Simone?"
Matt glared at him but refused to speak.
"Truck's just about ready to go, boss," called Bruno. "A couple of minutes more."
"Good," said Gerard. "The sooner we're out of here the better. MacReedy!"
The lanky deputy came over.
"We're just about set to go. You coming?"
"No," MacReedy said. "I think I'll stick around here. There won't be any witnesses to tie me to this whole thing, and I expect that I should do pretty well for myself from now on."
"Speaking of 'no witnesses,' MacReedy," Gerard reminded the deputy, "you have that one last chore to carry out, don't you?"
"You bet," the deputy replied. MacReedy replaced his service pistol in his holster, and reaching into a small traveling bag standing nearby, he pulled out a big Magnum revolver.
"This gun is cold," he said to Gerard. "There's no way to trace it back to me. I've been saving it for a special occasion, and this is it. Icing two nosy kids who happen to be Fenton Hardy's sons is my idea of a real special occasion. Turk!"
The burly gangster trotted over, gun in hand. "Turk asked if he could help out," explained MacReedy, "and I told him he could."
Frank knew it would be useless to make any kind of move. He watched helplessly as MacReedy cocked his big pistol with a loud threatening click and pointed it at Joe. Turk faced Frank with his gun. Frank could hear Pat Mulvaney begin to cry softly, although he didn't dare turn to look at her.
"So long, wise guy," said Turk. With that, he pointed the barrel of the automatic directly between Frank's eyes!
Frank couldn't help staring into the barrel of the gun, and as he did he wondered if it would be the last thing he ever saw.
Suddenly the deafening blare of a trucker's horn filled the air, breaking the tense silence. MacReedy and Turk looked over their shoulders, and Frank followed their gaze. Coming straight for the group, with a throaty diesel roar, was the huge bulk of an eighteen-wheeler! Chrome glittered on the cab, and Hal Brady's angry face, bent forward over the wheel, could just be seen through the tinted windshield as the truck charged across the parking lot.
MacReedy dived to one side. Turk tried to aim at the onrushing monster, but he couldn't keep his arm steady. His shot went wild, and a split second later the front of the truck struck him, knocking him several feet through the air and throwing his gun in another direction. Turk lay still.