Night of the Werewolf (9 page)

“What happened Saturday night at the Bayport Diner! Look, Mr. Virgil blew that ultrasonic whistle for his wolves to come, and he used the meat as an extra scent lure.”

“So?” Joe looked puzzled.

“Maybe that phony werewolf we saw was trained like an attack dog, and its owner swiped my jacket as a scent guide to clue it in to our group!”

“I'll bet you're right!” said Joe, catching on. “He let the animal sniff your jacket so it would know to attack you when we came out of the diner. Then Chet and the others rushed to help us, and he blew an ultrasonic whistle to call his critter back.”

“What are you talking about?” Alec Virgil asked.

After they went into the house again to finish their doughnuts and coffee, they explained what had happened, and Virgil agreed that Frank's theory was a very likely one. Joe inquired about the stuffed wolf that had been shown in the newspaper photo. “I don't see it anywhere,” the boy remarked.

“I sold it—or
thought
I did,” Alec Virgil replied. “Turned out to be just another dirty trick.”

He explained that he had received a phone call after the picture appeared in the
Hawk River Herald.
The caller, pretending to be a wealthy donor, said he wanted to buy the wolf and present it as a gift to the Mountain View Natural History Museum.

“That lobo had been a special pet of Mary's and mine,” Virgil went on, “and we hated to part with it. But the caller offered us a thousand dollars.”

Since the wolf farm existed on occasional grants and donations from animal lovers and the admission fees paid by sightseers, meeting the monthly bills was often a struggle. So the couple finally agreed to sell their beloved specimen.

“A truck came and picked it up,” Virgil told the boys, “and the driver left a check which turned out to be worthless. When I called the museum, the curator knew nothing about it and said he had never received the wolf.”

Later, back at the cabin, the boys were about to sit down to an early supper when the telephone rang. Joe answered and recognized Hank Eagle's voice.

“Hi, Hank,” he said cordially. “Where are you calling from?”

“New York City. I flew back at lunchtime in Mr. Tabor's helicopter. He told me where you're staying.”

The Mohawk explained that, during the afternoon, he had rejoined his regular high-steel construction crew working on the Manhattan skyscraper which Chelsea Builders were erecting.

“And I spotted something I think you ought to see,” Hank went on. “It may be important to that case your father's investigating. Could you come to New York right away?”

“You mean tonight?”

“Yes. Something may happen here that you'll want to keep an eye on.”

Joe checked with Frank, and they decided to follow Hank's suggestion. He gave them precise instructions on where to meet him. Then the boys called Bayport to inform their father, only to learn that he was gone for the evening. However, their mother told them that they had received an anonymous phone message about three o‘clock.”

“It was a man,” she reported. “He said he was the person with dark glasses whom you saw at Eagle's Nest this morning.”

“What did he want?” Frank asked excitedly.

“He wants to meet you. Call 555-3621 and ask for Mr. Nest. The area code is 212.”

“Thanks for the info, Mom,” Frank said and hung up.

“It's a New York number,” Joe pointed out. “That fits in nicely with our trip tonight.”

“Right,” Frank agreed, and dialed the number. An answering service responded, but the operator was unable to arrange a meeting. “Mr. Nest,” she said, “calls in every so often to see if there's any word from the Hardy boys. In fact, I heard from him just about twenty minutes ago, so I don't know how soon he'll call again.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “If he checks in, tell him we'll be in New York tonight. I'll contact you again around ten o‘clock.”

After a hasty meal, the Hardys started the long drive to New York, leaving a somewhat nervous Chet to keep watch on the Tabors' house after dark. Dusk had fallen as they sped southward on the New York State Thruway, and it was well past nine when they arrived in Manhattan. They parked in a midtown lot, as Hank Eagle had suggested, and walked a block or so to the meeting place.

The Mohawk was waiting for them in a doorway across the street from the skyscraper which was under construction by Chelsea Builders. He quickly told the boys the reason for his call.

“Just before I quit working,” Hank said, “I noticed a lunch box stashed against a girder.”

“You mean somewhere high up on the building skeleton?” Joe asked.

“Right. The twenty-first floor to be exact. Often, when the men are working, they don't bother coming down to the street for lunch. Anyhow, I figured one of the construction crew must've forgotten it when he left. So I opened it thinking there might be something in it to clue me in to whom it belonged.” Hank shook his head as if still slightly incredulous. “Boy, you'll never guess what I found inside!”

“Something suspicious?” Frank suggested.

“You better believe it! There was a drawing like a building floor plan, with an X mark and some numbers. At first I thought it might have something to do with the skyscraper we're working on, but then, as I looked at it closely, I realized that it was a layout of our company offices on Seventh Avenue!”

“What about the X mark?” Joe questioned.

“That's what made me call you. It indicated the location of the company safe! Those numbers were probably the combination. What's more, there was also a key in the lunch box, perhaps to the outside door of the office suite!”

Joe whistled. “Wow! That sounds like a preparation for a robbery—an inside job! But who could have left the lunch box? Any idea?”

Hank related that a group of company officials had visited the structure that very afternoon. “Some had on loose cotton dust coats, so one of them might have smuggled up the lunch box and left it, or at least stashed the paper and key if the box was already planted there. Then, tonight when it's dark, maybe the crook who'll pull the robbery is supposed to pick it up!”

“Smart thinking, Hank, ” Frank agreed. “That could be their plan, all right.”

“And the guys who set it up,” Joe added, “may also be involved in those three Chelsea building cases Dad's investigating!”

“Right, which is why I tipped you two off,” said the Indian high-steel worker. “But what do we do about it?”

The Hardys exchanged thoughtful glances.

“Think we should warn Mr. Tabor?” Joe asked his brother. “After all, he's the head of the company.”

“I know,” Frank said, deciding to trust the Mohawk and speak openly in front of him. “But we still can't be sure he himself isn't mixed up in all this. Was he one of the company officials who came here today to inspect the structure?”

Hank nodded ruefully. “I'm afraid he was.”

“Looks as if we'll have to play it by ear, then, and use our own judgment,” Frank decided.

“How do we know the lunch box is still there?” Joe asked.

The Mohawk shrugged. “We don't. I've been hanging around here ever since it got dark, trying to keep my eyes peeled for anything suspicious, but that doesn't prove much. Maybe we'd better check.”

“Isn't there a watchman on duty?” Frank inquired.

“Sure, but he's a lazy bum. Spends most of the time with his feet up, reading the paper. Anyone could sneak by him.”

“Okay then, if it won't stir up any trouble, let's have a look!”

The skyscraper was going up between two other buildings. The base of its structural skeleton was enclosed by a high board fence. After cautious glances to see whether the coast was clear, the three darted across the street. Hank Eagle gave each of the Hardys a boost up the fence, then leaped for a handhold and swung over easily by himself.

In a lighted booth just inside the access doorway through the fence, they could see the watchman snoring with a newspaper on his lap and a thermos of coffee on the table next to him.

“See what I mean?” Hank grinned.

“How do we get to the twenty-first floor?” Joe inquired.

“There's a freight hoist, but it makes a lot of noise when you switch on the motor. It'd probably wake even him up. Better walk.”

Temporary wooden stairways had been erected for the workmen, leading up through the building skeleton. The Hardys and their Mohawk friend felt leaden-legged as they neared their destination in spite of their trim physical condition.

Suddenly they heard a metallic clink in the darkness. “Hold it!” Hank Eagle hissed, putting a hand on each boy's arm.

They were ascending a connecting stairway on the right side of the structure. Peering outward and upward, they discovered that someone had heaved a line from a window of the adjoining building to hook onto the floor of the skyscraper skeleton somewhere above them. As they watched, they could see the dark figure of a man silhouetted in the moonlight, shinnying his way up from the window along the rope.

“I'll bet he's going after the lunch box!” Joe whispered.

“Right! Let's get him!” Frank urged.

All three dashed up the stairs on tiptoe. As they reached the twenty-first floor, they saw the intruder scramble over the edge and onto the temporary flooring of the skyscraper. Then he darted silently across the wooden planks.

“That's what he's after, all right!” Hank muttered to the boys. “The lunch box is over that way!”

They moved to cut off the stranger's retreat to the hook and line. But evidently he heard them. With a fleeting glance over his shoulder, he ran nimbly over an open girder toward another part of the structure. The very thought of his reckless flight, hundreds of feet above the ground, made the Hardys dizzy.

Hank Eagle set off after him without hesitation. “Wait—don't try it, you two!” he told the Hardys as he dashed over the girder in pursuit. “Leave this to me!”

Watching the two figures intently in the moonlit gloom, the brothers saw the fugitive reach another stairway. Instead of heading downward to street level, he started up, bounding two or three steps at a stride.

“Keep an eye on him while I try to cut him off!” Joe blurted and darted back to the stairway they themselves had used. Construction on the skyscraper had progressed only three stories higher, with the unfinished skeleton ending on the twenty-fourth floor.

As he reached it, Joe caught sight of the intruder, who was running across the wooden planking toward the edge of the structure. Joe sensed his intention at a glance. He was going to leap down onto the roof of the adjoining building from which he had emerged only a few minutes before!

The Hardy boy rushed to stop him. He grabbed the fugitive by the arm. But the man broke loose with a muttered oath. They grappled wildly at the brink of the planking. Too late, Joe saw the man's fist swinging at him in the moonlight.

The blow caught him on the side of the head and he lost his balance. With a startled cry, Joe toppled into the yawning darkness below!

Plummeting downward, Joe saw a rope flash past his eyes. He grabbed it desperately, and the jerk on his arm confirmed that his fall had been broken.

As he collected his wits, Joe realized he had managed to grab hold of the line which the intruder had hooked onto the skyscraper.

What a lucky break!
Joe thought. With a prayer of thanks on his lips, he got a two-handed grip on the line. Then he swung his legs around the rope as a further safety measure and made his way downward cautiously, hand over hand.

The line slanted outward, away from the skyscraper skeleton into the adjoining building. As Joe shinnied down the rope and wriggled through the window, a new thought occurred to him.

Perhaps the contents of the room he was now in would enable him to identify the unknown intruder or maybe indicate whom he worked for, if others were involved.

But when Joe groped along the wall and found a light switch, he was disappointed. The room was empty, evidently an unrented office. The line had been tied to a radiator underneath the window. Hastily he switched off the light again so as not to make a target of himself.

“Better not stick my head out the window, either,” Joe reflected. The safest way would be to go down to the street and wait for Frank and Hank Eagle.

Luckily the building corridors were still lighted and the elevators were working. A night attendant glanced at Joe curiously as he stepped into the lobby, but said nothing.