The Number File (11 page)

***

Frank was beginning to worry what was keeping his brother. Suddenly, between the sounds of the crashing waves, he heard a shrieking cry. "Man overboard! Man overboard!" He rushed out of the cabin, down the passageway, around the corner, and onto the deck.

Once again the cry carried through the sea air. "Man overboard!" It was coming from the deck above. Frank staggered aft against the rocking motion to an outside stairway leading up to B-deck, then made his way back toward the center of the ship.

"Joe!" he cried out.

Joe was holding on to the railing under one of the lifeboats. Two ship's officers were moving toward the youth from the opposite direction. Frank reached his brother shortly after one of the officers. He caught the end of Joe's excited story.

"Then the ship rolled, he lost his balance, and went right overboard."

"What was he doing out here in this weather?" the first officer asked.

"I have no idea. I just opened that door there to have a look outside and breathe some fresh air, and I saw him by the railing. He went over before I could even call out." Joe extended his hand, which was clutched around a small brown wallet. "This fell out of his pocket."

As the officer took the wallet and opened it, Frank caught a glimpse of the picture on a photo ID. He tried not to show any surprise at seeing Croaker's face. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder, and waited until the officers left before he said anything.

The officer closed the wallet and looked again at Joe. "Who are you?"

"Joe Hardy. I'm in cabin C-one-twelve."

"We have to get to the bridge," the second officer interjected, "and get the ship turned around. We might need to talk with you again, later."

Joe nodded, then turned to his brother as the officers left.

"Croaker!" Frank exclaimed in astonishment. "I bumped into him on deck, and — " "Tell me inside," Frank interrupted. "It's really rough out here."

"Wait a minute," Joe said. He braced himself on the underside of the lifeboat. "Croaker decided to fight. He went down and hit his head against the railing there." "And went overboard?" "He was knocked cold. But his gun went overboard during the fight, and that gave me an idea." Joe climbed to the top of the lifeboat and started undoing the canvas cover. Frank stared at his brother's struggle to keep his footing for a second, then climbed up to help with the knots. "I realized if we held Croaker captive, Kruger would be tipped off about us as soon as he knew Croaker was missing. But if everyone thought that Croaker had gone overboard — "

He pulled off the cover to reveal Croaker lying unconscious in the bottom of the lifeboat. "This seemed like a better idea. Now, help me get him out."

Removing the unconscious Croaker from the lifeboat was not easy. Joe climbed in and handed the lifeless body down to Frank, all the while afraid that someone might walk out on the deck at any moment. But the rough weather let them work unobserved. Then the two brothers propped the thug between them, went inside, and walked him back to their cabin like two men escorting a drunken friend.

"This is incredible," Frank said when they got Croaker back to the cabin. "You've managed to get an entire ocean liner to turn around! The crew will be searching for a body that doesn't exist."

"There was nothing else I could do without spooking Kruger. Let's hope he doesn't think Croaker's accident was suspicious."

"We should tell Montague." Frank furrowed his brow as he stopped to think out their next move. "We'd better stay in the cabin and have Montague tell the captain what happened. Then he can arrange to have Croaker locked in the brig."

Frank knocked on the door adjoining the two cabins. A second knock brought Alicia to the door.

"This rocking put me right to sleep," she said. "But it's put Dad right out of commission." The Hardys peered in the other cabin and saw Montague lying in bed, a white washcloth splashed across his green face.

"That's too bad." Joe shook his head. Then he looked at Alicia. "We need you to do something for us." Joe described his encounter with Croaker briefly as he pressed a wet towel against his forehead. Alicia's pretty face had made him forget his aching head for a few seconds.

"What happened to your head, Joe!"

"Nothing." He winced. "I just bumped it."

Alicia looked over at Croaker, whom she recognized as one of her captors. She grinned, pleased that he was now the captive. "Funny, your friend here has a forehead as red as yours. Must be something going around."

"He's coming to," Frank observed. "You should go now, Alicia, and tell the captain."

Alicia left. The Hardys used a sheet torn into strips to tie their prisoner's hands behind his back, and when Croaker regained consciousness, they began questioning him.

"How many more of you are there?" Frank asked the stocky man.

"There's just me. My mother didn't want no more children," he answered.

"I can see why," Joe told him. "But I want to know about your gang. Are there any more of you on the ship besides you and Kruger?"

"Will I get a shorter sentence if I tell you?"

"Yeah," Joe said sarcastically. "We promise we won't use sentences with more than six words."

Croaker looked confused. "There's nobody on this boat except me and Kruger."

"And what cabin are you in?" Joe asked.

"The one next to Kruger."

"What number?"

"Uh, B-twelve." Croaker's voice was like short bursts of machine-gun fire. Frank kept wanting him to clear his throat, but it was clear.

"Did you charge things on my dad's credit card so we wouldn't be able to use it?" Joe asked, remembering the three thousand dollars the card was over the limit.

"Yeah. It was Kruger's idea—to slow you down."

"And how did Kruger — ?" A knock on the door interrupted Frank's question. It was Alicia with the purser and a rather large seaman dressed in khakis and a sailor's cap.

"The captain is in my office explaining to your friend the circumstances under which his traveling companion went overboard." The purser spoke as though he were on the stage. "It would be best for us to remove this gentleman at the moment, while the other gentleman is occupied. That way we can ensure getting him down to the brig unnoticed." "Great," said Joe.

"Now we're up to the hard part," Frank reminded them after the two crewmen left with the thug. "We've got to stay out of sight until we land. Then we've got to be right on top of Kruger when he makes his move."

"Oh, dear," Alicia said, like a heroine from an old movie. "And to think I'm practically confined to my cabin like a prisoner for two whole days with no one to talk to but a seasick father and you two boys!"

The two days went quickly, and once the storm subsided, it was a relaxing voyage. Joe enjoyed the time he spent with Alicia—even if they did have a chaperon. Montague felt better the second day of the voyage, and he shared adventure stories with the two detectives. And they weren't cooped up for the entire trip. The captain, the purser, and the ship's doctor advised the group of Kruger's whereabouts. When Kruger was eating, they found it possible to spend some time out on deck. Kruger, meanwhile, spent most of his time in his cabin. He seemed to accept the captain's story about "poor" Croaker.

By the time the ship docked in New York City, Kruger was visibly nervous — he'd have been more nervous if he knew what was waiting for him: Fenton Hardy and a host of federal agents. But Kruger was smart—and cool. When he walked off the ship into customs, he looked like any other passenger.

Fenton Hardy and the others—three undercover feds—were stationed at different points in the large customs hall, past the customs checkpoint.

Joe stayed on board with Alicia, where he had a good view of the customs checkpoint set up on the dock below. Frank, meanwhile, followed Kruger, staying far back and out of sight.

Kruger, still in disguise and using a forged passport, passed through customs without any difficulty. He walked straight toward a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman in a gray suit, carrying an umbrella which he used as a cane. The New York ringleader lifted his head in a slow nod and proceeded into the large customs hall. Kruger followed him to the center of the large room. The head of the credit card scam in the United States and the chief of the counterfeiting operation in Bermuda shook hands, never suspecting that they were being observed.

Just then, a scratchy voice bellowed out above the din of the crowded customs hall: "Kruger, it's a trap! A trap!" It was Croaker, shouting from the side of the room. He was under the guard of two uniformed police officers who were leading him through the large building. Though his movements were restricted, his grating voice was not. "Run for it!" he shouted again before the officers could quiet him.

The distinguished-looking man lifted his umbrella like a sword and ran swiftly in the direction from which he had just come. Kruger froze, staring in the direction of Croaker.

Joe heard Croaker inside the shed and immediately swung into action. Literally. He leaped over the railing, grabbing on to one of the ship's mooring lines. Then he rode the cable down onto the dock below, avoiding the crowd that was choking the gangway. Landing squarely on two feet, he rushed toward the checkpoint.

In the crowded hall, a commotion erupted as the dapper man carved a path for himself with his umbrella. The two federal men pursued him, but their progress was hampered by the curious onlookers. The crook passed through the door leading out of the large room—only to be tackled some three feet later by Fenton Hardy.

Meanwhile, Bernhard Kruger, still cool and still composed and looking completely innocuous, turned, walked slowly, and disappeared into the crowd that had stopped to watch the spectacle.