The Hunt for Four Brothers (12 page)

“The only person I told was Joe,” Frank replied.

“You told one other person,” Joe said.

The Hardys spoke in chorus. “Chet!”

•   •   •

Joe knocked on Chet's door, but no one answered. Frank, in dry clothes and shoes now, tossed Joe a clean shirt and some sneakers. “Don't tell me he's still asleep?”

Joe peeked in. “No, he's not here.”

The bathroom door opened down the hall, and Chet Morton walked out, freshly showered. He yawned wide and sauntered down the hall. “What's up, guys?”

“Chet, you can't still be tired?” Joe asked.

“I haven't slept yet,” Chet said. “Once I lay down, I was too wound up to sleep. I thought a shower would help.”

“Chet, who did you tell about Borda Jones having the first brother?” Frank asked.

“The what?” Chet asked.

“The ruby!” Joe exclaimed.

“I thought it was a piece of red glass,” Chet said.

“Chet, we have a lot to tell you, but not now,” Frank implored. “Who did you tell about the ruby?”

“No one,” Chet replied.

“You're sure?” Joe asked.

“I'm sure,” Chet replied.

The Hardys looked at each other, stumped. Then Joe slapped a hand over his forehead. “Oh, no, of course! The turtle, the bubbles. Whoever tried to drown me was under the raft when I mentioned to Julia that Borda might have found something in the soap.”

“Probably Milo Flatts, who sent Gus Jons after it,” Frank concluded.

“Mr. Craven's waiting at the inn for the police. We'd better tell him,” Joe suggested.

“Wait for me!” Chet said, hurrying past them toward his room.

Something caught Frank's eye as Chet passed. “Chet! What's in your hand?”

“Soap,” Chet replied.

“Russian soap,” Frank said, pulling out his penknife.

“I was out,” Chet said plaintively, holding out the soap. “I didn't think one bar would make any difference.”

Frank grabbed the soap and tried to cut it in half, but his blade struck something solid just below the surface. He shaved off a sliver of soap and dropped it into his pocket. Holding the soap under the hall light, they saw the glimmering edge of a huge white diamond.

“The fourth brother!” Joe exclaimed.

“Okay, what is this brother stuff?” Chet asked impatiently.

“We'll tell you on the way up to the inn,” Frank said.

“Wow, you can't even take a nap around here without missing out,” Chet said after hearing the story.

“Borda's with the nurse at the infirmary,” Sandy told them from the porch of the inn.

“The authorities are on their way,” Craven added.

Frank showed his bosses the diamond, and Joe explained about the only suspect who could have overheard him discussing the ruby.

“We might want to detain Mr. Flatts,” Frank
suggested. “I have a hunch he and his associates aren't going to stick around much longer.”

The group moved through the lobby and down the corridor to room 301. Craven didn't knock this time but used his passkey. The door held fast.

“He must have bolted it,” Craven said.

“At least that means he's still inside,” Frank pointed out.

“Mr. Flatts?” Craven called, but no one opened the door.

“Step aside,” Sandy said.

“Let's try it together,” Joe replied. “One, two, three!”

Joe and Sandy slammed their feet against the door. The slide bolt tore off its mooring and the door flung open. An open suitcase was on the bed, and the sliding glass door was ajar.

Joe rushed out to the balcony. A rope ladder with metal hooks dangled from the railing. “We missed him,” Joe said.

“Flatts must have heard us at the door and made an escape,” Craven guessed.

“Must have been a quick escape,” Sandy remarked. “We were out there only fifteen or twenty seconds.”

“Let's check Alvaro's room,” Joe suggested.

“We'll use my passkey,” Sandy said, going with him.

Frank scanned the grounds but saw no movement. As he looked up, a flash of light caught his
eye. From high up Konawa Mountain, someone was sending a signal!

Scrambling to the desk in the room, Frank returned with a pen and paper and started notating the dot-and-dash signals, then handed them to Jim Craven.

“ ‘Will meet you there, midnight,' ” Craven translated. “ ‘Await further orders.' ”

“ ‘Will meet you
there,' ”
Frank repeated, thinking. “That sounds like he was
responding
to a message!”

“But who is
he?”
Craven asked. “If you just tussled with Jons a few minutes ago, he wouldn't have had time to reach the asylum.”

“It could be their Russian accomplice,” Frank said. “The one with the huskies, who's been camping out up there.”

“If Flatts was out on the balcony with the ladder already, sending a signal,” Craven said, guessing, “it might explain how he could escape so quickly.”

Frank pulled a bull's-eye lantern and a box of matches from under the lounge chair. “Their Russian accomplice is awaiting further orders, Mr. Craven,” Frank said, lighting the lantern. “With your help, I can send him some good ones.”

•   •   •

Alvaro's room was vacant, and all his luggage, gone. Joe and Sandy ran to the parking lot, but
Alvaro's luxury car was nowhere to be seen. “They've all flown the coop,” Joe said, kicking the gravel.

“Let's go tell the others,” Sandy said.

When Joe stepped back into room 301, he saw Jim Graven on the balcony swiftly opening and closing the shutter of a gas lantern. “What's going on?” Joe asked.

“Watch,” Frank said, pointing high up the mountain. A moment later a light began to flash from the asylum. “What did he say, Mr. Craven?”

“Roger and out,” Craven replied, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I sure hope this works.”

“I had Mr. Craven signal Flatts's accomplice that the fourth brother was in one of the rooms at the male staff quarters and ordered him to retrieve it,” Frank explained to Joe and Sandy.

Joe saw the rolling blue lights of four police cars rounding the bend in the road leading to Konawa. “If the ‘wolfman' comes, this time we've got him!”

•   •   •

“How did you know about Vladimir Prossk?” Agent Anderson asked Frank as he shook his hand. State police officers had surrounded the Sweatbox, hiding out of sight in the brush and trees.

“We had a hunch based on the return address on Gus Jons's package,” Frank replied.

“That's his uncle's company, but Vladimir worked there before joining the peacekeeping force,” Anderson said.

“Which explains how he could plant the gems inside the bars of soap,” Joe guessed.

“Any idea whether Prossk will be coming alone?” Anderson asked.

“If he shows up, he'll be alone,” Frank replied. “If he runs into Flatts or Jons before he gets here, he won't come at all.”

“Wait, Frank—he won't be alone,” Joe said, correcting his brother. “He'll have his two Siberian huskies with him.” To the others, he said, “We figure they've been trained to sniff out this soap.”

“Is there any of this soap in the building?” Craven asked.

“I scavenged twenty-four bars from the cottages,” Chet said, smiling apologetically at Craven.

“They're in a wastepaper basket in our room,” Frank added.

“That should draw them in,” Anderson said.

Four staff members came out of the Sweatbox, followed by Sandy, who walked up to Agent Anderson. “All the staffers are out.”

“I'll take them up to the inn,” Craven said.

Anderson checked his watch. “Frank, you said the trip down from the asylum takes about forty-five minutes. We'd better get out of sight.”

Frank started to follow Anderson. “No offense, boys, but my report says Prossk is nearly seven feet tall and incredibly strong. He may be armed. I can't risk having civilians around.”

“Come on, you three,” Sandy said. “We can wait this out at my cottage.”

Frank, Joe, and Chet frowned, but nodded. Cutting across the athletic field, they headed into the maple grove with Sandy.

“That's tough to take it this far and then have to watch from the sidelines,” Joe muttered.

“Shh!” Frank said, stopping. The others held still.

Something that didn't sound human was pattering toward them through the trees.

A thought struck Frank. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the sliver of soap he had shaved off the bar containing the fourth brother. They've followed the scent to me, Frank thought to himself.

Something growled. Sandy shined his flashlight into the pale blue eyes of two snarling huskies.

“Okay, stay still,” Sandy said. “On the count of three, slowly start backing away toward my cottage. One, two, three.”

Sandy, Joe, and Chet moved away, but as Frank stepped back, a huge hand grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

“Give me diamond,” a deep voice demanded. The man switched on a flashlight, and Frank got his first look at Vladimir Prossk. He stood tall as a giant. A thick, coarse beard covered his face.

“I don't have it,” Frank shouted his reply, hoping the others would hear him.

“You lie,” Prossk said, pushing Frank up against a tree with his feet off the ground. Prossk's dogs hadn't moved.

“I have the diamond,” Joe Hardy said, returning with the others. Joe held his left hand in a tight fist, though Frank knew they had given Agent Anderson the fourth brother.

“Secure your dogs, or I'm not coming near you,” Joe said.

Prossk thought for a moment, then smiled. Keeping Frank in a choke hold, Prossk pulled two leashes from his overcoat, hooked them on the dogs' collars, and knotted the leashes around a small branch.

Joe stepped away from the dogs and up to Prossk. He slowly opened his left hand, and as Prossk looked down, Joe caught him with a right uppercut.

Prossk let go of Frank to block Joe's next punch, but neither of Joe's blows fazed him.

“Get help!” Frank yelled to Chet as he and Sandy charged Prossk. Prossk threw Joe aside, blocked a punch from Sandy, and countered with a shot to the jaw that staggered him. Frank grappled with Prossk, whose attention turned to Chet, fleeing back toward the Sweatbox. “Attack!” Prossk shouted, snapping his chin in Chet's direction.

The huskies took off—the leashes released at the first pull. Slip knots! Joe thought, realizing he had been outfoxed.

Frank knew Chet would never outrun the huskies.
He yanked the dog whistle off Prossk's neck and blew it. The huskies stopped and looked back toward their master.

“Go! Go!” Prossk shouted at the dogs, then flung Frank into Joe, who had just gotten to his feet. The dogs continued their pursuit, but Chet had put another fifty yards between them.

Prossk charged the Hardys and snatched his whistle back. A gunshot rang out, coming from the direction of the athletic field. Prossk froze, then looked at the boys. “A trick,” he muttered. He blew the dog whistle, then set out at a dead run.

Frank headed toward Chet. He looked across the athletic fields and saw the huskies headed back his way with half a dozen men in pursuit.

The huskies changed course abruptly. Frank guessed they were responding to another whistle from their master. Frank turned and ran full speed on an intercept course with the canines.

Frank and the huskies reached the edge of the woods at the same moment. Frank dove and snatched the leash of one of the huskies in his right hand.

The dog fell, then Frank swung up onto a low limb of a maple tree and tied the leash to it.

Agent Anderson, Chet, Sandy, and Joe found Frank, safe in the branches, with a snarling husky at the base of the tree.

“Chet!” Frank exclaimed. “Boy, am I glad you're okay.”

“I'm a little mixed up,” Sandy said. “Why did you risk your life to catch this dog? I don't think Agent Anderson can arrest him.”

“No, Sandy,” Frank replied. “But guess where this dog will go once we let him loose?”

“After his master,” Joe said, realizing what his brother meant. “Vladimir Prossk!”

With the help of three officers, Anderson was able to muzzle the husky. “Let's go, men!” Anderson called out. A force of half a dozen officers followed the husky as it strained at the leash, clearly on the trail of something.

“Agent Anderson, Frank and I want to go with you,” Joe said, walking beside the man.

“I can't give you permission to go on a manhunt,” Anderson replied. Joe's shoulders dropped.

“If you happen to follow me—well, that's a different story,” Anderson added, offering Joe a flashlight.

Joe's shoulders raised again, and he, Frank, Chet, and Sandy followed the search party behind the hillside cottages and up Konawa Mountain.

Frank's adrenaline was racing so fast, he felt no
fatigue until they had passed Rob Daniels's old campsite and stood outside the barbed wire fence of the Timber Gap Asylum.

From inside the asylum, they heard barking. “He's in the asylum,” Anderson said.

“There's a way in around the back,” Chet told them.

When they reached the door that had been pried open, the husky paused, looking through the door, then back at the woods. Frank thought it seemed confused.

“I'm sorry, Sandy,” Anderson said. “We could have a standoff situation here. I need you and the boys to wait outside the fence.”

“Yes, sir,” Sandy replied.

“Okay, let's go,” Anderson said to his officers, who got in formation to storm the building and, one by one, followed the husky into the asylum.

“Wait a second,” Frank said. “That's not coming from inside the asylum—it's coming from beyond it.”