Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Perfect Getaway (11 page)
The jeep drove them to the ghostly train, shimmering in the moonlight. Only a dim light from the train's interior added to that illumination. Security, as always, was tight.
Dimitri was waiting with a squad of men. He opened the jeep door and stood at attention as the chief climbed out, followed by the others, with Joe in the lead.
"Hey, where do you think you're going, Igor?" Dimitri barked. "You go back in the boxcar with the other prisoners."
Tanner opened his mouth to protest, then caught himself. It was clearly all he could do to keep from winking at Joe and Frank as he responded meekly, "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
After he was led off, the chief and the Hardys entered the passenger car, followed by Dimitri.
"Will there be anything else, Chief?" Dimitri asked.
The chief's eyes flicked around to meet Joe's hard gaze. Then he looked at Dimitri and said, "No. You're dismissed. Tell the engineer to get the train moving."
After Dimitri left, the chief and the Hardys sat silently in their compartment until the train started rolling.
"Glad to see you're being sensible," Joe said. "That means you're going to stay alive. Don't look so mad, though. Life in jail won't be so bad. I'm sure you'll be out in twenty or thirty years."
"You — " began the chief. But when Joe pulled out his gun, the chief swallowed the rest of his sentence.
"Time to make some changes," said Frank, checking out the window to make sure that the ranch was out of sight. "Let's pay a visit to the engineer."
Herding the chief ahead of them, they moved forward through the passenger car and then through a door that connected it with the engineer's compartment.
The engineer had the train controls set on automatic. He was sitting back in his seat with his eyes closed.
Frank tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, saw the chief, and leapt to his feet.
"Sorry, sir," he babbled. "Just taking a little break. Won't happen again, I — "
Then he saw the gun in Joe's hand.
"We want you to do us a favor," Joe said. "Show us how to run this thing. We want to expand our occupational skills."
A half hour later the chief and the engineer were tied up in the passenger car, and Joe and Frank were at the controls.
"Tanner seemed a little disappointed that he had to go second-class."
"I'm afraid Tanner has a lot of disappointments coming up," said Joe as he moved a lever to speed up the train. "This is fun. When I was a kid, I always wanted to drive a train."
"Okay, Casey Jones, just keep your eyes on the tracks and don't lose your head," said Frank.
"You know me," said Joe, increasing the speed still more.
"That's the trouble," said Frank. "I don't want to have survived all of this only to wind up in an old-fashioned train wreck."
"No problem," said Joe. "Clear track ahead."
Frank couldn't argue. The front lights of the train had come on when the train entered the tunnel formed by the foliage overhead. The gleaming rails stretched unbroken into the darkness.
After a while Joe rubbed his eyes. "I have to admit, this job is tougher than it looks. Those rails are almost hypnotic, and we haven't had a decent night of sleep since we left Bayport."
"You're right about that," said Frank. "Good thing we're practically at the end of the tunnel." He couldn't stop his mouth from opening in a wide yawn.
Then his eyes widened, and his yawn froze. For a second all he could do was make a gasping sound.
Then he choked out, "Put on the brakes—or we'll crash!"
He didn't really have to say anything. Joe, too, had spotted the felled trees lying across the track. He yanked on the brakes and started breathing again only when he felt the train come to a stop with a loud hiss and an ear-piercing screech.
"Let's get out and see — " Frank began.
But he and Joe only had to glance out the window behind them to see what had happened.
Dimitri was standing there, gun in hand.
And from the darkness behind Dimitri came a voice that they recognized all too well.
"Hello, Hardys. Long time, no see."
FRANK AND JOE instantly recognized the squat man with a mustache who held them at gunpoint.
"Alex!" Frank managed to say.
"How did you get here?" said Joe in a stunned voice, remembering their last sight of Alex in the mansion on the Florida key.
Alex smiled. "Me, explain anything to brilliant detectives like the Hardys?" he said sarcastically. "I wouldn't be so presumptuous. I'll let you try to figure it out, until we get you back to the ranch. If you still don't know, the chief can explain—before he tells you what he's decided to do with you." Alex's smile widened. "I want to be around for that. Should be fun."
A half hour later Frank and Joe were back at the ranch, along with the chief, Alex, and a squad of armed guards. They had all been flown there in the same helicopter that Alex and the guards had used to beat the train to the end of the tracks. A few men had been left behind to turn the train around and return its human cargo to captivity.
When they were all in the chief's office, Alex asked the two boys, "Well, have you figured out how I got here yet?"
Frank had been thinking about it the whole trip back. "You must have had some kind of emergency plan, in case somebody got through your security shield," he said. "I should have thought of that. The chief would want to cover his bases in case somebody goofed up."
"Now you're talking horse sense, boy," said the chief. "Too bad you thought about it too late. As soon as that fool you put to sleep on the ship woke up, he found those two recruits tied up and reported what had happened to the captain. The captain then went to his safe and got out a sealed envelope he'd been told was to be used only if somebody slipped past what you call our 'security shield.' There was a phone number in there. As soon as the ship got to the nearest island, he made the call and talked to Alex, who took it from there. The captain never even had to break radio silence."
"All according to the chief's faultless plan," said Alex, shamelessly flattering the old man. "The chief thought of everything. All I had to do was open my own sealed envelope, which gave me a flight plan to the ranch. I flew down in a company plane, and when I arrived here and heard that a couple of new recruits named Mike and Dave were with the chief and the prisoners on a train trip to the coast, it was easy to see what was happening. All I had to do was load up the ranch helicopter with men and cut you off." He slapped his thigh with boisterous amusement. "Sure did get a kick out of seeing the look on your faces. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
"And now we'll see what's going to happen to you," said the chief, enjoying the look that now appeared on the Hardys' faces. "We could just kill you. A couple of bullets in the back of the neck and that would be that. But after what you've done to me, that's not enough. I think you need to sweat a little."
The old man pulled off his cowboy hat as he walked close to the two boys. His voice hardened as he wiped the sweat from his face and said, "Fact is, boys, I want to see the two of you sweat blood. And I know how to make you do it."
As he watched the brothers' faces tighten in apprehension, his booming laugh filled the room. "I don't think I'll tell you how. I'll let you start sweating now, and you can sweat the whole night through. Then tomorrow I'll let you in on my little surprise. We'll see if you boys can really take it."
He turned to his guards. "Put them in the lockup. And turn up the heat."
***
The lockup was a windowless white room. There was no furniture—not even a crude cot or bolted-down chair such as one would expect to find in the lowliest jail cell. Hanging down above the door was a 500-watt light that could have driven away the shadows on a city block. In that small room, the glare reflected off the stone floor and the steel door and turned the tiny chamber into an oven.
Joe used the palm of his hand to wipe away the sweat pouring down his face. "Whew! Must be a hundred degrees in here."
Frank was sweating just as hard. "Right, and they didn't leave us a drop of water."
"Then that means we've got to get out of here—fast. But how?" asked Joe.
Frank started to say something but then, grinning ruefully, put a finger to his lips to indicate that they'd have to work in silence. They couldn't afford to let the chief overhear their plans. Then he realized that he had no plan. Shrugging his shoulders, he sat down on the floor to think. And sweat.
Joe wouldn't join him. He couldn't. His restless nature demanded that he do something. He paced around and around the cell. Finally he dropped to the floor beside Frank and said in a whisper, "I hope you've figured a way out of this box. I've looked over the doors, the walls, the floor—every inch of it—and I think they've really got us this time."
Frank replied in a voice no louder than his brother's, "Sometimes all we can do is wait and save our energy for when there's an opening."
"Listen, Frank," snapped Joe, "waiting I can put up with, but baking's too much. I'm going to knock out this light, at least. Much more of this heat, and come morning all they're going to find are a couple of crispy critters."
Joe backed up against the far wall and charged full speed at the door. The instant before he would have crashed into the weighty steel sheet, he leapt skyward like a basketball player going up for a slam dunk. At the top of his jump he caught hold of the heavy steel pipe from which the light was suspended. Slowly, feeling the heat of the scalding globe only inches away, he pulled himself up until he could brace one arm over the bar.
As he reached out to smash the bulb Frank suddenly jumped to his feet. "Wait," he said sharply.
Joe stared disbelievingly at his brother.
"Frank, if you have an idea, it better be a fast one. I don't know which I'm going to do first— fry or fall down."
"Then be quiet and listen," Frank said softly. "Don't unscrew the bulb, unscrew the fixture. There should be some slack in the wire. If we can pull it down as far as the door, then maybe we can give the guards a hot welcome."
"All right," whispered Joe enthusiastically.
"Then we can arrange for one of those openings you were talking about."
With no tools and only their thin khaki shirts to protect them from the searing heat of the light, it took Frank and Joe hours to set their trap. By the time they were finished, they figured it was only a couple of hours before dawn.
"Now, how do we issue invitations to this party?" asked Joe.
"Easy," Frank answered. He wrapped his hands in the scorched remains of his khaki shirt and, grasping the now-dangling wire close to the bulb, he smashed the globe against the door and began screaming.
After the hours of silence, Frank's cries tore open the night. The two boys could hear the sound of running footsteps.
"What's going on in there?" a gruff voice demanded.
"The light exploded and I think my brother's all cut up!" Joe said urgently.
"He's going to be worse than that if he doesn't shut up," the man growled. Frank's screams continued.
"Your boss won't like it if Frank's hurt when he comes for him," Joe said pleadingly.
"Okay, but both of you stand back while I open up the door," the guard grumbled.
The boys listened to the sound of a key turning in the lock. The minute it clicked open, Frank, still holding the wire, jabbed the metal base of the shattered bulb against the steel door. The darkness was illuminated by a blue flash! And the boys heard a single, choked cry as the surge of electricity flowed through the steel door and into the man behind it.
Frank jerked the bulb back, and Joe reached for the door handle. When the door swung open, the cool night air tasted like springwater to the two parched prisoners.
After carrying the unconscious guard into the cell, they bound and gagged him with the remains of their shirts. Locking the door behind them, they took his keys and set out to explore the house.
"The first thing we have to do is find some weapons," Joe whispered. "I won't go back in that room. And I don't want to know what else the chief has planned for us."
"Me, neither, but if we want to get out of here alive, we have to get some help," Frank replied as he opened the outer door and inched carefully into the courtyard. The sky was the hazy gray of the last hours before dawn.
Across the courtyard, the boys could see the ranch-house guard, tipped back in one of the easy chairs sleeping.
"I'd hate to be in his shoes when the chief finds us gone," murmured Joe.
"Be quiet or we won't be." Frank eased open the door to the main hall of the house.
Once they were inside, Joe indicated that they should go upstairs, but Frank shook his head. He pointed up and mouthed the word "guests." Then he pointed at the heavy oak door at the end of the hall and pantomimed the words "the chief." An angry look appeared on Joe's face and he began striding toward the door.
Frank grabbed him by the arm and whispered fiercely, "We don't want him now, Joe. What we want is a way out of here. He has to have some way of communicating with the outside world. If we can get a message out, we can hide in the jungle and wait until the cavalry arrives."
Joe kept going, almost dragging Frank down the hall. Just before they reached the chief's door, they came to a much less impressive oak door bearing a sign that read: RESTRICTED— STAFF ONLY. It was locked, but the keys they had taken from the unconscious guard let them in.
There, in a tiny alcove, they found themselves facing three doors, each bearing a lettered sign. When they read them—LOUNGE, ARMORY, COMMUNICATIONS — Frank punched the air and whispered a heartfelt, "All right!"
Joe turned to him and said in a barely audible voice, "I think Santa has just delivered, even if he did forget the swimsuit."
A moment's celebration was all they could afford. As soon as Joe had the armory door open, he tossed the keys to Frank, who entered the communications room.
The armory was a policeman's nightmare — a terrorist's dream come true. Joe was surrounded by racks of M-16s. Crates of .223 caliber, full-metal-jacketed ammunition lined the wall. And in a cabinet at the back of the storeroom were enough C-4 plastic explosives to move the ranch house and all its occupants into another country. Joe realized that for the first time in many hours he was smiling. He cleared a space on the table in the center of the room and went to work.
When Frank walked into the communications room, it was like coming home. Low counters lined the walls, and sitting on them were two computers and an extremely sophisticated radio setup.
When Frank booted up the two computers, he immediately discovered two things. First, one of the computers was used to do nothing except direct a rooftop microwave antenna that linked the ranch to the nearest phone system. Second, the other computer — the one used to assemble a message to go out over the antenna—required a password. A password he didn't have. He settled in before the computer, determined to use every hacker trick he knew.
When Joe walked in about forty minutes later, he stared over his brother's shoulder at the CRT. He watched as the words PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD appeared on the screen, followed by the key clicks of Frank trying one stunt after another.
"Why do you always try the hard way, Frank?" Joe asked. "Let me go get the chief.
He'll tell us his password if I ask him just right." Frank knew how his brother would ask—with his fists.
"Give me a few more minutes. So far I've figured out that the password is six characters long and that the only person who uses this computer is the chief himself." Frank didn't look up from the keyboard as he spoke.
"Well, don't let me rush you," Joe said calmly, "but I've planted a few surprises around the house that are due to go off in about — let's see — eight minutes."
Frank's fingers froze as he turned to gaze at his grinning brother.
The look on Joe's face told Frank all he needed to know. As he turned back toward the computer, he said, "And I guess we don't want to be anywhere nearby when your 'surprises' go off, do we?"
"Nope."
Frank mentally reviewed the list of words he'd tried, the ways he'd attempted to bypass the computer's security system. For once, he was sure that the chief had been too confident. He felt as if the answer to this puzzle was right on the tip of his tongue. Yes! — he had it.
"Hey, Joe, if you wanted one word to describe the chief, what would it be?" he asked. He answered the question himself as he typed in the six letters needed to control the computer, C - O - W - B - O - Y. The screen went blank for a moment, and then a menu of all the computer's functions and files appeared.
Frank was totally in his element now. As Joe counted off the seconds, he scanned a file here, set up a short program there, and set up a message that would end up on his hacker friend Phil Cohen's computer back in Bayport.
"Frank, if we don't go right now, we are going to get caught when the fireworks go off," Joe said, his voice tight with tension.
"Just one more thing," Frank replied. "I want to see this file called 'auction.' I think that it has the answer to a lot of our qu — "
"Look, answers won't matter in just about one minute." Joe grabbed his brother's arm and literally dragged him out of the room and into the hallway. Speed, not silence, was what was important now. The sound of their footsteps must have awakened the guard, because as they tore through the courtyard they could hear him shouting behind them.
Joe led Frank through the gate at the back of the courtyard and toward the corral. Standing there was the chief's palomino, saddled and waiting. "Sorry about this, but I could only find one horse," Joe panted.
Two shots whistled past as Joe leapt into the saddle and Frank mounted behind him, taking a firm grip on Joe's shoulders.
"Let's go," Joe shouted, and kicked the palomino's sides. The horse got the message. It was off like a shot, racing across the grassland toward the jungle. "We'll follow the tracks," Joe shouted.
There was more gunfire coming from behind them. Just then, Frank heard a tremendous explosion. Looking back, he saw the trucks burst into flames and watched the locomotive rise up off the tracks and fall over in almost slow motion. The chief's men were all scrambling for cover.
"It'll take them a while to come after us," Joe shouted.
"It'll take them a while to figure out they're all in one piece," Frank answered. The two brothers began laughing, relieved to be, at least for the moment, safe and free.
About half a mile down the track the horse began to slow down. Joe pulled on the reins and brought it to a halt. He knew that a good horse could burst its heart running, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen to this animal. The two boys climbed off it. Joe looked at the horse's heaving flanks and the froth coming from its mouth. "Sorry to have worked you so hard, pal," Joe said. "But it was for a good cause. You can take off now." He gave it an affectionate pat on the flanks and grinned as the horse trotted easily away down the track, relieved of its double burden.
"Time to get off these tracks," said Frank. He looked at the mass of jungle on both sides of them.
"Hey, you didn't really believe that stuff they told us about this jungle being filled with alligators and snakes and jaguars, did you?" Joe said.
"Not a bit," said Frank. "Scare talk."
They pushed their way into the foliage, but it was hard going. The ground was soft, the trees thick, and vines lay like trip wire all around. A hundred different kinds of insects buzzed around their heads, all of them having a feast on every inch of exposed flesh.
"We're not leaving much of a trail," said Joe, looking behind them. "It's as if the jungle grows right back as soon as we've passed through it."
"As if it were swallowing us," said Frank. "As soon as we reach civilization, we can get hold of the police or the army or whatever they have down here, and tell them what's going on at the ranch," said Frank. "We can also contact the U.S. embassy. That'll cook the chief's goose, if it wasn't cooked already."
"Nah. I set the charges in the house small enough to just make noise. The others blew up the trucks and train," said Joe, pausing to wipe sweat off his face and brush away a cloud of gnats. "I can hardly wait until — " He suddenly gave Frank a violent shove, sending his brother sprawling.
"Hey, what the — " Frank demanded, then followed where Joe's finger was pointing.
The black snake lay where Frank had been about to step. It raised its head and looked at them with glittering, unblinking eyes. Then it hissed softly and slithered away.
"Thanks," said Frank. "I owe you one."
"Anytime," said Joe. "Here, let me help you up."
He bent over to help Frank out of the tangle of foliage in which he lay.
Before Joe could straighten up, Frank grabbed his arm and pulled him down to land face forward in the same foliage.
Joe rolled over on his back, lifted his head, and saw what had caused his brother to react with lightning speed.
The body of a jaguar, leaping from a tree branch.
The jaguar now stood motionless a few feet away, its balance restored instantly after its miss. Its eyes flicked from Joe to Frank and back again, picking its prey.
Then it let out a vicious snarl. Frank and Joe saw its haunches tensing, ready to spring. It bared its fangs and extended its claws for the kill.