Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Flesh and Blood (9 page)
"I always liked the meticulous way you thought, Frank," Stewart said. A sly grin spread across his face. "I made only one mistake - keeping that old file down here."
"That wasn't your only mistake," Frank said. "Officer Riley knows we're down here, and he'll - "
"Ah, yes. Officer Riley," Stewart interrupted. "My partner. Supposed to be watching the front, isn't he? He told me what you were up to, thought I would want to help, being a fellow cop and all. Quite a weird twist of fate, huh? I mean the son of the man who killed his partner now kills him."
"What?" Joe blurted.
"Don't get so excited, Joe," Stewart said. "He's not dead - yet. Let's just say he's resting. He's at the top of the stairs, unconscious. He's safe. For now."
"How did you get the file changed?" Frank asked.
"My first job was working the night shift at city hall," Stewart answered without hesitation. "That's when we hit on the plan."
"Plan?" Callie asked.
"The plan to set Chet up to throw us off," Frank answered. Frank shifted and Stewart braced himself. "You're nervous, Officer Stewart."
"I'd be foolish not to be nervous."
"What now?" Callie asked.
"I say we rush him," Don growled.
"Yeah? You plan to be the first hero to die? I left a message with Liz that you were me." Stewart let out a bone-chilling laugh and waved the magnum among the five teenagers.
"How did you get Officer Riley in here?" Joe asked.
Stewart shrugged. "I suggested we check up on you kids, make sure you were okay. We told the cop on the night shift to take a break, that we would watch the place for a while."
"You're not getting away with this," Frank said.
"I've already gotten away with this," Stewart replied, smiling. "Riley doesn't know what hit him." Stewart held up his gun, and Frank could see a little blood on the butt end. "However, that's not the story Chief Collig will hear. No, what really happened is that Officer Riley and his partner, that's me, thought we heard looters breaking into city hall. When we investigated, gunfire erupted, and Officer Riley was killed, but not before he killed three of the looters." Stewart pulled a second gun from behind him. "This is Officer Riley's gun. I, of course, killed Frank and Joe Hardy."
"What about our guns?" Joe asked with a smirk.
Stewart put Officer Riley's gun down on the desk. He knelt down, keeping his dark eyes and the silver magnum trained on the group, and pulled a snub-nosed .38 from an ankle holster. "Here, catch!"
Stewart threw the gun at Joe, and Joe caught the gun and pointed it at the police officer.
"Don't insult my intelligence, Joe. It's empty. And now it has your fingerprints on it. Hand it back to me. Gently."
Joe looked at the pistol. He began to hand the gun to Stewart, then he threw it down one of the aisles, where it clanked to the concrete floor and slid under one of the shelves of files.
"That wasn't very smart, Joe." Stewart's triumphant grin twisted into an angry frown.
"You'll never find it under all those files," Joe said calmly. "How are you going to explain that one, wise guy?"
Stewart straightened himself and grabbed Riley's gun.
"Let's see, which of you gets killed by Officer Riley, and which of you is the lucky one that is killed by the hero, Officer Stewart?"
"You're not going to kill us?" Don said, a little cry in his voice.
Joe turned to Don. He was surprised to see Don cowering, backing up, frightened. He began to regret having Don along.
"Pl - please," Don stammered. "D - d - don't kill me. Please."
"You coward." Joe sneered.
"I don't want to die!" Don blurted out and fell to his knees.
Joe was disgusted.
"Stand up, West," Stewart ordered.
"No, no, no," Don cried. Then he turned to Joe. "Don't let him kill me."
Joe was tempted to hit Don, to shut him up. Then he saw the slightest wink from Don's eye. Suddenly Joe knew that Don was only pretending to distract Stewart.
"I said stand up!" Stewart moved toward Don.
Don grabbed for Stewart's knees, and Joe kicked out at the magnum in Stewart's right hand. Stewart stepped back, and Don landed on the floor. Joe's kick connected with the magnum, and the gun flew from Stewart's hand and exploded.
"No!" Callie screamed and fell to the floor.
"Callie!" Frank rushed to Callie. The bullet had grazed her left temple.
"Don't move, punks," Stewart growled. He pulled back the hammer of Riley's gun and held it to Don's head.
Joe stopped and stepped back, his hands held up. "Okay, just take it easy."
"I'll take it easy, punk," Stewart spit out. He knelt and picked up his magnum. "Enough of this! Time to die."
"Stewart!" Officer Riley gasped from the top of the stairs.
He stumbled down, nearly falling. Frank saw a thin line of dried dark blood on the side of his forehead.
"Drop it, Stewart," Riley said with authority.
Stewart laughed and fired Riley's gun at Riley. Con flew backward and slid down the stairs.
"No!" Frank yelled and leapt for Stewart. Stewart swung around and caught Frank across the temple. Frank slumped to the floor.
"Frank!" Callie screamed and crawled over to him, cradling the unconscious Frank in her arms.
"Change of plans, folks." Stewart cackled. "Officer Riley was killed with his own gun by Frank Hardy." He pointed the .357 automatic magnum at Frank. "And I killed Frank Hardy!"
Con Riley kicked out just as Stewart started to pull the trigger. The bullet hit the ceiling and bits of concrete and gray dust fell on Frank and Callie. Riley groaned and collapsed.
Joe sprang on Stewart and knocked him against a desk. He clamped his hands on both of the man's wrists to keep Stewart from pointing the .357 at him.
Don ran to Frank. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Frank groaned. Then he turned and saw that Joe was now struggling with Stewart. "Joe - "
Don ran to help Joe. The magnum exploded again, and Don yelled as he grabbed for his shoulder.
Joe turned. He was distracted just long enough to give Stewart time to twist around. Joe's back was now against the desk.
Joe pushed Stewart away, and he flew backward, tripping over Riley and falling onto the stairs. He dropped Riley's gun. Joe kicked it away.
Stewart raised the magnum and fired. Joe dived behind the desk, the corner exploding in wooden splinters and chips.
Joe popped back up immediately, but Stewart was gone. Joe could hear the fleeing footsteps of the bad cop as he reached the top of the stairs.
Joe ran to Don. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it grazed my shoulder. It just burns a little." Don grimaced. "I'll be okay. Check Riley."
Joe dashed to Officer Riley. He checked the police veteran's chest and was shocked to find no blood. Joe ripped open Con's shirt to find a bulletproof vest.
"Is he okay?" Frank asked, joining Joe.
"Yes. How's Callie?"
"I'm fine," Callie said, holding Frank's handkerchief to her head.
"Look at this, Frank." Joe directed Frank's attention to the bulletproof vest.
"So?"
"So I thought I hit something hard, like metal, when I fought with Bobby Mock at the hotel room. Remember?"
"It wasn't metal," Frank said. "It was a bulletproof vest."
"Right."
"Is there a phone down here, Don?" Frank asked.
"Yeah," Don said.
"Good. Call the police station. Tell them we have an officer down and need assistance."
***
Frank and Joe walked into the darkened entryway of their home. Joe flipped on the living room light and threw himself in an overstuffed chair.
"I feel like I've been awake forever," Joe said, sighing.
"Me, too," Frank agreed as he yawned.
"You make sure the doors and windows are locked," Chief Collig ordered Officer Murphy. Murphy disappeared down the hallway as the police chief stood in front of Frank and Joe.
"What now?" Frank asked.
"Now you two go to bed and let real cops handle police business. You're lucky I don't throw you in jail for obstruction of justice." Frank didn't like the slight smile on the chief's face.
"What about Officer Riley?" Joe asked.
"He may be guarding a crosswalk for a while - "
"Is he all right?" Frank interrupted.
"The bulletproof vest saved his life. He's got a couple of cracked ribs, but he'll survive."
"Good." Frank sighed.
"Doors and windows locked," Officer Murphy reported as he entered the living room.
"Outside," Chief Collig said, pointing behind himself. He turned to Frank and Joe. "You two get a good night's sleep," Chief Collig said, his voice soft.
"What about Stewart?" Frank asked.
"We'll find him. Officer Murphy will be outside in his patrol car. You two stay home. Good night." Then he walked out the door.
"Now what?" Joe asked.
"Stewart's not going to try anything," Frank said, standing.
"How do you know?"
"He wants us too badly to risk getting caught at our house."
"You have a plan?"
"We'll take Chief Collig's advice and then sneak out in the morning," Frank said as he headed up the stairs.
Joe followed. He didn't know what Frank had planned, if anything, but he was too tired to care.
***
Frank and Joe rose at six a.m. Frank looked out his bedroom window. A patrol car sat at the curb. Frank smiled. Officer Murphy's head was back against the headrest, his eyes closed, his mouth open.
"He's asleep," Frank said.
"How do you plan to get the van out without waking him?" Joe asked.
"Put it in neutral and let it roll out into the street, then start the engine and peel out. By the time Officer Murphy realizes what's happening, we'll be gone with the wind."
"Solid," Joe replied.
They headed down the stairs.
"I want to call Callie and make sure she's okay," Frank said.
Frank picked up the receiver and punched in Callie's private number. Then he noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine. Someone had called. Frank put the receiver down and punched the Play button on the answering machine.
A moment later Laura Hardy's voice spoke from the machine, "Frank. Joe. We got your message, and your father wanted me to call to tell you he's renting a car and driving back after he sleeps a couple of hours. It's," - she paused - "eleven o'clock now. Your father said he should be in around seven or seven-thirty in the morning. He'll meet you at that truck stop. He said you'd know which one. Aunt Gertrude and I are driving back tomorrow. You two take care. 'Bye."
Frank shut off the machine.
"What message?" Joe asked.
"We didn't leave a message," Frank said sternly.
"Stewart," Joe hissed.
"Right. Mom must have called before we got home last night. I knew I should have checked the answering machine." Frank picked up the phone and punched the number of the Philadelphia hotel where his parents were staying.
"What are you doing?" Joe asked.
"Calling Mom. Perhaps she knows what the message said."
"How are you going to ask her about that without alarming her about Stewart?"
"I'll think of something."
Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude had already checked out of the hotel, a desk clerk informed Frank.
"What now?" Joe asked.
"First we get past Officer Murphy," Frank replied and headed for the kitchen.
"We've got to find Stewart and fast," Joe said.
"If Stewart's the one who left that message for Dad, then he'll be waiting at the truck stop."
"Which one?" Joe asked as they stopped at the back door.
"We'll try the one on Highway Nine; that's where Dad would come in from Philadelphia."
They ran out the back door and sneaked around to the front. Using the van as cover, they opened the side door and hopped into the vehicle.
Joe put the van in neutral and silently rolled it out into the street. Then he flipped the ignition switch forward, fired the van to life, threw the shift into first, and stomped on the accelerator. The tires screamed as the van lurched forward and sped off.
Frank didn't know how Officer Murphy had reacted, and he didn't care. He could imagine Chief Collig's volcanic reaction when Murphy reported the incident, though.
Five minutes later Joe guided the van into the large parking lot of Trucker's Pit Stop, a truck stop just west of Bayport.
"Look for a rental car, something with Pennsylvania tags," Frank said.
Joe slowly snaked the van down and through the rows, but they found nothing.
"Maybe he's not here yet," Joe said after several frustrating passes.
"He should have been, if this is the truck stop Mom was referring to. Try around the back."
Joe turned and headed to the rear, back behind the large garage and oversize car washes.
"Look!" Joe said, pointing to a light blue sedan.
Martin Mangieri, his telltale black leather jacket and long dirty blond hair, was shutting the trunk of the sedan.
Joe pressed the accelerator, and the van lurched, moved, the tires squealing. Mangieri turned and horror filled his eyes as the black van sped toward him.
He ran to the front of the sedan and hopped into the driver's seat.
Joe hit the brakes, and Frank jumped from the van. He grabbed the door handle on the driver's side of the sedan and lifted it just as Mangieri locked the door. Then Joe saw his father's briefcase lying on the seat next to Mangieri.
"He's got Dad!" Frank yelled.
Mangieri smiled as he started up the car. He threw the car into reverse and shouted through the rolled-up window, "Your old man's dead, Hardy! Dead!"
Frank slugged the driver's window but managed only to hurt his knuckles.
Mangieri laughed, and the blue sedan jetted away from the curb.
Frank hopped back into the van, and Joe turned it around.
"Dad's briefcase is in the front seat. I think Mangieri's got Dad in the trunk."
The Hardys always kept the engine and transmission finely tuned, and the hot-rodded van responded with a clean, even burst of speed and power. The van swooped down behind the blue sedan like a black bird of prey.