The Hunt for Four Brothers (11 page)

“Give the man a break,” Katie said. “He still has a pint of hornet venom in him.”

“I know you're trying to have fun, guys,” Joe explained, smiling. “I wouldn't keep bothering you about this stuff if it wasn't important.”

Joe heard a little splash from the far side of the raft. Looking over the side, he saw a few bubbles rising to the surface.

“Sorry, Joe,” Julia said.

Joe figured the splash had been made by a turtle and turned back to Julia.

“I've actually had fun playing housekeeper P.I.,” Julia continued. “But to answer your question, when we first opened the box, Borda and I each took a bar of the imported soap to try.”

“Was there anything in it?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, soap lather,” Julia replied. “It's all used up except for this much.” She measured a tiny amount between two fingers. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering what's so important about this soap,” Joe replied carefully.

“When we clean rooms, I work on two at a time,” Julia told Joe. “Yesterday, I caught some guy in one of the rooms I had left unlocked. He said he was looking for me to get an extra towel.”

“Sounds pretty lame,” Katie commented.

“Do you know the guy's name?” Joe asked.

“I don't know names, I know rooms,” Julia replied. “The guy in the corner room, three-oh-one.”

“Three-oh-one? That's Milo Flatts!” Joe said. “Thanks, folks. Sorry I can't stay, but have a fun party.”

Joe dove off the raft and glided underwater toward the dock. Someone grabbed his ankle beneath the surface. Katie playing a joke again, Joe thought to himself. He reached down to push her hand away and was grabbed by the wrist and yanked farther under.

Joe struggled, yelling in a flurry of bubbles at the person in the blackness, but the person's grip just tightened. Joe knew at that moment that someone was trying to drown him.

He kicked at the person below him, striking him in the head while pulling toward the surface with his arms. His mouth broke the surface, and he gasped in a breath and yelled for his brother. “Fra—!” was all he got out before he was yanked back underwater. His attacker clasped Joe's ankles together in a bear hug so tight that Joe could no longer kick.

Joe struggled, pushing up with his arms and twisting to get loose, but he couldn't break the powerful grip. He had held his breath as long as he could and released the last of the air from his lungs.

Suddenly two sets of hands grabbed him by the arms and pulled him toward the surface. The person beneath Joe released his grip.

Joe gasped in air, coughing out the water he had swallowed. He found himself surrounded by Frank, Katie, and the other staffers.

“Let's get him to the dock,” Frank shouted.

Katie started to put him in a lifeguard hold, but Joe waved her off. “Thanks, Katie—I can swim.”

“We heard you yell,” Frank told Joe after they had reached the dock.

“And your brother, being a super sleuth, deduced that ‘Fra' meant ‘Frank,' ” Katie kidded.

“I don't think Joe's in a joking mood,” Frank remarked, removing his own wet socks and shoes.

“Someone pulled me under,” Joe said, catching his breath.

“We didn't see anyone,” Julia told him.

Frank looked to see where someone could swim to shore and hide, undetected. Frank remembered there were pockets of air between the pontoons under the raft. Beyond the dock were the rowboat slips.

“Look for air bubbles and keep your eyes on the shoreline. If he's hiding under the raft, we have him trapped,” Frank instructed. “Joe and I will check the rowboat slips.”

Katie unlocked the waterfront equipment closet and handed Frank and Joe flashlights. The Hardys
hurried over to the small dock, where eight row-boats were moored in slips.

“Here, Frank,” Joe said, shining his light on the dock near the third slip. A pool of water had wet footprints leading away from it up the dock and onto a dirt side path that joined the main gravel path to the inn.

“He got away,” Frank said.

“Maybe not,” Joe noted. “He's soaking wet. If he goes into the inn, he'll be dripping and have dirt stuck on his feet.”

The boys hurried up the path and met Jim Craven.

“I heard you boys were looking for me,” Craven said.

“If you come with us, Mr. Craven,” Frank explained, “I think we can catch these crooks red-handed.”

Joe split off from Frank and Craven, entering the inn through a second entrance on the opposite side. Frank told Craven about the incident at the lake, but they could find no tracks leading into the corridor.

They met up with Joe near the elevator. “Any luck?” Frank asked.

“Dirty footprints stop back there, but check out the carpet,” Joe replied, pointing. Dots from dripping water covered the carpet in front of the elevator.

Calling the elevator, they stepped in. Joe pressed 3.

“What about the second floor?” Craven wondered.

“I have an idea about where these drops will lead us,” Joe said. “Room three-oh-one.”

As they rode up in the elevator, the Hardys quickly told Craven what they had discovered about Sergeant Milo Flatts's probable involvement with Gus Jons and the robbery of the four brothers.

“As crazy as it all sounds,” Craven admitted, “it's beginning to make sense.”

The elevator doors opened, and they hurried down the hall to room 301. Joe felt the carpet outside the door. “It's damp,” he whispered to Frank.

Craven tried the door. It was locked. He knocked, but there was no answer. “Mr. Flatts, it's Jim Craven.” Still no one answered. Craven pulled out his passkey and unlocked the door.

Tony Alvaro stood near the small room desk. Seated at the desk was Milo Flatts in a bathrobe, holding a magnifying glass. Set on a piece of black velvet and glimmering under the desk lamp was a pile of green emeralds.

“I hope you have a very good reason for breaking into my room,” Flatts said calmly, making no effort to hide the emeralds.

“I knocked,” Craven said.

“Does that mean I have to answer?” Flatts said. “Mr. Alvaro preferred we kept our meeting private.”

“I can see why,” Joe huffed, “since you're dealing in stolen gems.”

“Stolen?” Alvaro retorted. “These were purchased on my last trip to South Africa. I have the papers on their sale.”

“The third brother is an emerald, and you don't have the papers for its sale,” Joe accused.

“The third brother,” Alvaro said, chuckling. “You must be kidding.”

“So you know about it?” Craven asked.

“Any gem merchant knows about the four brothers,” Alvaro replied.

“A gem merchant?” Frank asked.

“Yes, that's what I do for a living,” Alvaro replied, pulling a business card from his pocket. “I know that each of the four brothers is two hundred and fifty carats. As you can see, nothing I'm showing Mr. Flatts for his niece is more than three carats.”

Joe looked at the pile of emeralds and realized all the stones were relatively small.

“I was looking to give my niece a special birthday present,” Flatts added.

“You can't deny you were in the peacekeeping force in Kormia, where the four brothers were stolen,” Joe said.

“No. I am very proud to have served there,” Flatts said. “But if you think I could smuggle something like that out of Kormia, you're mistaken. Between the United Nations and U.S. Customs, every American soldier and his luggage was inspected thoroughly before we were allowed back into the States.”

“We followed wet footprints from the lake to your room,” Frank snapped. “You tried to drown Joe.”

“I haven't been out of my room since dinner,” Flatts insisted.

“Then why is your hair wet?” Frank asked.

“I took a shower just before Mr. Alvaro arrived,” Flatts said, growing agitated.

Craven peeked into the bathroom. “Looks like the shower's been used recently,” he conceded with a frown.

Frank noticed the bump on Flatts's forehead. ‘'That bump! You were the one who attacked me in the kitchen!”

“I got this bump when I slipped in the shower,” Flatts responded. “Mr. Craven, you can expect Konawa to hear from my lawyer about my injury in your shoddy shower, your illegal entry into my room, and your slanders about my character!”

“You have my most sincere apologies,” Craven said. “Let's go, boys.”

•   •   •

Outside Flatts's room, the boys followed Mr. Craven to his office in silence.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Craven,” Frank said after closing the door behind him. “I thought we had them red-handed.”

Craven sat at his desk, solemn faced, staring at Frank, barefoot and in dripping wet clothes, and Joe, in his wet shorts and flip-flops. Joe wasn't sure they looked like drowned rats, but he sure felt like one.

“They're lying, Mr. Craven,” Joe finally said softly. “If Mr. Alvaro's a gem merchant, then he's an underhanded gem merchant.”

Frank snapped his fingers. “Alvaro is probably
the fence that Flatts and Jons are using to buy the stolen gems!”

“Maybe Flatts couldn't smuggle out the four brothers, but that doesn't mean Jons couldn't have,” Joe suggested.

Craven picked up his phone and dialed a phone number. “When you came by earlier to see me, I was in town talking with the state police. They had called in a special agent working for the United Nations. Gus Jons was questioned about the theft by the police in Kormia, but since he didn't have the gems on him and they had no solid evidence, they let him go.”

“So you believe us?” Joe said.

Craven nodded and smiled.

“We think there's a third man, a Russian accomplice,” Frank told him.

“Right!” Joe chimed in. “If Jons was a suspect and Flatts couldn't bring the gems back safely, no wonder they sent them through Kiev.”

“Agent Anderson, this is Jim Craven,” Craven said into the phone. “I have those two boys in my office. Okay?” Craven handed the receiver to Joe. “Tell Agent Anderson everything you know.”

The Hardys filled the agent in on everything they had uncovered. Frank concluded the call by telling him, “And I'm afraid Sandy and Borda Jones might be messed up in this somehow. I saw them with a large red gem they said was glass, but I'm pretty sure it was the first brother.”

“Ask about Prossk,” Joe reminded Frank.

“Oh, one last thing,” Frank added. “Could you find out if any member of the Russian peacekeeping force had a connection to a company in Kiev called Prossk Home Products?”

Craven took the phone back. “Yes, sir. Very good, I'll see you then.” Graven hung up. “You're sure you saw the Joneses with a large ruby?”

Frank nodded. Craven rose from his desk, checked his watch. “The state police will be here in half an hour to set up a trap, in case the crooks still meet at midnight. In the meantime, let's go talk to Sandy.”

•   •   •

“B-fifteen,” Sandy called out to the hundred or so guests assembled in the dining room playing bingo. Frank caught Sandy glancing at him and Joe out of the corner of his eye. “I'm going to let my assistant take over,” Sandy told the crowd with a smile, motioning over a young staffer.

“Sandy, I need to ask you about something,” Craven said, taking Sandy aside.

“I know, Jim,” Sandy replied. “All I can say up front is, I'm sorry. Let's go to my cottage.”

As Joe, Frank, and Craven walked toward the maintenance building, Sandy revealed the truth behind the Hardys' suspicions. “Borda found the thing by accident in a bar of soap. We didn't know what to think, except we knew it meant we could
retire from hard work for the rest of our lives if we sold it.”

“Sandy, I'm surprised at you,” Craven said.

“Jim, I'm as surprised as you are,” Sandy replied. “We eventually decided we were going to turn it in to the police, then we got scared when the trouble started and were afraid we might be in hot water for not reporting it right away.”

“Well, I think we can overlook that,” Craven said.

“No, sir. I put these boys in danger by not talking,” Sandy said, looking to the Hardys, “and I'll take what's coming to me.”

Suddenly a woman's scream pierced the night.

“That came from the maple grove,” Joe realized, and broke into a run, followed by Craven and Sandy. As he passed the maintenance building, Joe heard another scream. It was coming from the Joneses' cottage.

Frank moved as quickly as he could in bare feet on rough ground in the dark, battling roots and rocks all the way. He saw Joe and the others rush on to the front porch of Sandy's cottage as a bearded figure burst out the back screen door. Frank sprinted after him, lunging and tackling him by the ankles.

Frank put a head lock on the man, but his arm slipped as the man's false beard came off. The man hit Frank across the face, cutting his cheek with the hard object he clutched in his palm.

“Frank?” Joe yelled from the back of the cottage.

The man heaved Frank to the ground and took off, jumping into a vehicle parked beyond the grove behind the maintenance building. Frank chased after him and could barely make out the shape of a pickup truck as it burned rubber and sped off.

The others met up with Frank as he came back through the maple grove. Sandy held Borda tightly. She looked shaken.

“A stranger with a beard threatened Borda at knifepoint,” Sandy told him. “She had to give him the ruby.”

“Did you see who it was?” Craven asked.

“No,” Frank replied, holding up the false beard. “But he doesn't have a beard and he does drive a pickup truck.”

“Gus Jons?” Joe guessed.

“Probably,” Frank replied.

“Until a few minutes ago no one knew we had that ruby except Frank,” Sandy said. “How did they find out?”