Both boys climbed the tree and Frank secured the line. Joe offered to go first. He grasped the rope, but soon realized that it was quite slippery. Clenching his teeth he strained the muscles in his arms and hands almost beyond endurance as he pulled himself over the deadly trap. Once Joe had reached the roof, Frank followed. The older Hardy boy actually lost the grip of his left hand as he was in the middle of the moat and the giant lizards snapped hungrily at his dangling body. However, he regained his hold and made it to the other side with nothing worse than a blister on his palm.
“Wow!” he gasped. “I hope we don’t have to go back this way!”
“I know what you mean,” Joe said as he led the way to a corner of the roof where a rainspout extended to the ground. “It was not the most pleasant means of transportation.”
The young detectives silently slid down the drainpipe and jumped onto the grass. Stooping low and hugging the wall, they sneaked around the house to a side window where they could hear the gang talking.
Cautiously they peeked through the half-open pane into a dusty room with wallpaper hanging down in shreds. Bits and pieces of plaster lay on the floor. A carpet was rolled up along one wall, and chairs, tables, and a sofa were covered with sheets. A discolored spot on the floor showed where rain had leaked through a hole in the roof.
“What a spooky place,” Joe whispered.
The poachers were sitting on the furniture without bothering to remove the sheets. Morphy perched on an ottoman facing the window.
“We want to poach alligators,” he was saying.
“No problem,” Fatso declared. “That’s what the chief wants, isn’t it?”
“But where do we stand now?” Tom Lami asked.
Morphy shrugged. “It’s a whole new ball game.”
Footsteps sounded on the board across the moat, then the door opened with a harsh creak as the newcomer entered.
“Here comes the chief now,” Morphy said and got to his feet. Just then the man became visible to the Hardys. He was short and wore a hat pulled low over his forehead. Sunglasses further obscured his face. Yet, somehow he seemed familiar to the young detectives!
“Hi, Chief,” Morphy greeted him.
“Hello, men. I’m glad you could all make it,” the stranger responded.
It was his voice that gave him away. Frank and Joe realized at the same instant that the chief was none other than Harrison Wester!
19
Grizzly Jailers
Wester did not limp, and he walked without a cane.
“I’m changing my method of operation,” he began. “As you probably know by now, Nitron has been arrested. This means a substantial loss to my business. In order to keep the poaching operation running smoothly, I feel I must take tighter control. ”
“This is why you came personally to talk to us today?” Tom Lami asked.
“That’s right. Each group had too much autonomy as long as I only communicated by written messages. Nitron hired people without my knowledge. This was a crucial mistake and it landed him in jail.”
“And all because of the Hardys,” Lami muttered.
“Those snooping kids even followed us into the Everglades,” Fatso said and explained how Joe had escaped at the alligator pool, and how they assumed he had immobilized the poachers’ boat by pouring water in their gas tank.
“Do the Hardys know about the stone house?” Wester asked, worried.
“I don’t see how they could,” Lami said.
“They’re smart, smarter than I thought. I’d have kept a tighter hold on them had I known,” Wester admitted. “You never can tell where they’ll turn up. Mark, you shouldn’t have brought them into the case with that ridiculous photo you left for my brother in Bayport.”
Morphy looked embarrassed. “Sorry about that, Chief,” he mumbled.
“And I told you to keep the Hardys under surveillance!” Wester added angrily.
“I tried,” Morphy protested. “But Frank saw me the night I came to talk to you in your house. After that, I didn’t dare go near Smugglers Cove!”
“You have a point there,” Wester mused. “Anyway, I left word at my house that I was in Key West. I never thought the Hardys would figure out the Everglades angle.”
He paused for a moment and bit his lip. “We’ll have to clear out of here at once. Tom, I’ll send Morphy to meet you in Blanco City next week and give you my further orders. Don’t do anything until you hear from him, understand?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll pass the word around to the men after I speak to Tom.”
“Since the rangers are on your trail, you might run into them. Pretend to be campers. There’s nothing that could possibly tell them what our real business was, since all your weapons and ammunition are gone.”
Wester turned and walked to the window. Frank and Joe quickly flattened themselves against the wall on either side, hardly daring to breathe.
Morphy went up to the chief and said quietly, “No more smuggling? It was a great business.”
“We’ll build it up again later. Not until the heat’s off. ”
“Does your brother suspect anything?”
“Raymond?” Wester snorted. “He has no idea I’m running this show. But he knows the Hardys suspect you of helping steal the picture, Mark.”
Morphy shrugged. “I don’t care what the Hardys think. ”
“Neither do I,” Wester agreed. “Nevertheless, we’ll have to get rid of them before we do anything else. Them and their two friends, Hooper and Morton. They’re still at my house, according to my housekeeper.”
“How are you going to handle it?”
“As soon as I get home, I’ll have Morton and Hooper pushed off the cliff at Smugglers Cove. It’ll look like an accident—a fatal one!” he added with an evil grin. “Then we’ll set a trap for the Hardys.”
Joe leaned forward to Frank and whispered, “We’ll have to warn Chet and Biff!”
The movement caught Wester’s eye; he had spotted the boys! “The Hardys are out there!” he shouted. “Don’t let them get away again! Throw them into the moat with the alligators!”
The gang members rushed across the room, while the young detectives turned away from the window in fright.
“Let’s climb back on the roof!” Joe urged, running toward the closest rainspout. He pulled himself up hand-over-hand, bracing his feet against the side of the house for support.
But Frank had another idea. Before joining his brother, he ran to the drop gate and lifted it until it clicked into place, creating an exit from the moat. Immediately an alligator slithered through the opening.
Frank took to his heels toward the drainpipe and climbed up just in time to escape the ferocious lizard. He heard its jaws bang together in baffled fury just below him!
The poachers, meanwhile, had rushed to the front door. Tom Lami opened it, then stopped short in surprise when he saw the yard swarming with alligators!
More lizards emerged through the drop gate and pushed across the unkempt grass. One was already waddling up the stairs to the porch and glared at the frightened poacher.
“Get back!” Lami yelled. But the men behind him who did not see the danger kept shoving forward, anxious to pursue Frank and Joe Hardy.
Lami placed his hands against the frame on either side of the door. Desperately he pushed back against those pressuring him from behind—ter—rified of being forced into the jaws of the alligator!
Finally the men realized what was happening and drew back into the house. As Lami slammed the door shut, the alligator that had been charging headlong across the porch ran into it with a loud crash. A panel splintered, and the animal pushed its claws through the gap in the wood.
Wester and his henchmen watched in horror as the alligator explored the hole in an effort to find a way in.
“We’d better go upstairs!” Tom screeched.
“Let’s try the back door first,” Morphy cried out. “Maybe we can get away over the moat if all the ‘gators are out
front. There’s another board in the closet. We can use that to get across.”
He ran through the house with the gang at his heels. Throwing the kitchen door open, he saw the yard swarming with more alligators.
Furiously, Morphy banged the door shut. “It won’t work!” he called to the others. “They’re all around the place!”
“Let’s throw something to eat out back,” Fatso proposed. “It’ll distract their attention while we cross the moat!”
Wester shook his head. “I gave them the rest of my food supply when I was here last week. There’s no way for us to distract them, unless somebody wants to volunteer!”
His words made the gang shudder.
On the roof, meanwhile, Frank and Joe watched the alligators swarm over the grounds.
“Don’t fall,” Frank warned his brother, “or you’ll become an alligators’ blue plate special.”
“Very funny,” Joe grumbled as they made their way to where the rope was tied to the tree branch. It was their only route of escape!
Suddenly a clattering sound came from the sky. Seconds later a helicopter arrived and circled overhead. On its side were the words: EVERGLADES PARK RANGERS.
The Hardys were ecstatic at the sight of the chopper. Frantically they waved to the pilot. Afraid he might not see them, Frank took a handkerchief out of his pocket, asked Joe for his, then used them as signal flags in nautical fashion. He spelled out the words: POACHERS HERE.
The helicopter swung low over the house and the pilot waved his hand to show that he understood. Then he flew off to bring in reinforcements.
“What do we do now?” Joe asked.
“We can wait here on the roof for the rangers to come, or we can go back on the rope,” Frank said.
“I’m not crazy about the rope retreat,” Joe decided, “but I think we should do it and kick the board off the moat so the ‘gators won’t be able to leave the grounds.”
“You’re right,” Frank said. “Just hold tight so you don’t become a snack for Wester’s pets.”
With great concentration and fierce effort the boys made their way to the tree on the other side. After resting a few minutes, they climbed down and walked to the moat. They removed the board, watching the scene from where they stood.
The alligator at the front door had stopped trying to force its way in. However, three others had arrived at the porch, and two more lay on the steps. The rest of the dangerous lizards were roaming the grounds.
“There’s a perfect jail for you,” Joe declared with a chuckle. “The crooks won’t come out of the house as long as the ‘gators are guarding them!”
“I wouldn’t either,” Frank said. “Now all we have to do is wait for help. ”
“I hope that won’t take too long.” Joe sighed. “Somehow these critters make me nervous.”
“Tell you what,” Frank advised. “Let’s go find some mangrove fruit. I’m starved.”
“So am I,” Joe agreed, suddenly realizing that they had had nothing to eat that morning.
They gathered enough mangroves for a snack, then sat with their backs against a tree, trying to keep their eyes open after their exhausting experience.
Finally, about an hour later, the rangers arrived. There were ten of them, led by a lieutenant, who introduced himself as Dennis Mishkin.
“We were given directions to the poachers’ camp by headquarters,” he said. “When we got there, we couldn’t figure out which way you had gone because the area had been trampled over too much. So we called for a helicopter spotter.”
“I’m glad you did,” Frank said. “We were able to attract his attention.”
Lieutenant Mishkin nodded. “He radioed your position to us. What’s the situation now?”
The Hardys explained how the alligators had the poachers trapped in the stone house on the other side of the moat.
“We always come prepared for alligators,” the lieutenant said, and ordered his men to take large pieces of meat out of a leather sack. They threw them into the water.
The alligators responded instantly. They rushed for the drop gate leading into the moat, waddling and slithering as they went. They snapped, hissed, and roared, jostling one another at the opening.
Getting through, they fell upon the meat with ravenous jaws. Hungrily they pulled it apart and devoured it in big chunks.
Joe replaced the board and ran across to the gate. He allowed it to fall to the ground, and the alligators were once again trapped in the moat!
20
The Hidden Portrait
Lami had watched what was happening through the window. “The rangers are here!” he yelled in a frenzy.
“And the Hardys are with them!” Fatso bellowed. “They’ve got the ‘gators penned up in the moat again!”
The rest of the gang panicked. Frightened and confused, they shouted at each other. The noise rose to a crescendo as the rangers rushed the door, burst into the house, and subdued the gang.
Wester sneaked out of the room during the commotion and headed for the back door. Frank and Joe saw him, however, and ran after him into the kitchen.
The chief managed to yank the door open. He scrambled down the steps, fleeing across the yard with Joe in hot pursuit. Frank headed in the opposite direction to remove the board before Wester got there. He managed to do it just before the smuggler arrived with Joe on his heels.
Wester came to an abrupt halt on the edge of the moat. An alligator glared at him. Clawing with its hind legs on the bottom of the trench, it pushed partway up the side and opened its jaws. Three others surfaced right alongside.
“Want to swim across, Chief?” Frank asked grimly.
“You win,” Wester mumbled. He turned and walked back to the house with Frank and Joe on either side making sure he did not try to escape again. The boys took him to the front room where the rangers had been searching the poachers.
“So far we haven’t found anything incriminating,” Lieutenant Mishkin admitted.
“Don’t talk!” Wester snarled at his gang.
The rangers searched him next, and examined the notebook in his pocket. In it he had written memos to himself, but there was not a single entry that linked him to either smuggling or poaching.
“You’ve got nothing on me!” Wester snapped. “It’s just the Hardys’ word against mine. Otherwise you can’t prove a thing!
The rangers ignored him. While Lieutenant Mishkin stayed to guard the handcuffed prisoners, the other officers searched the house. However, they came up empty again, and soon returned to the living room, greatly discouraged.
Just then Frank noticed a piece of paper on the floor under a strip of loose wallpaper. He picked it up and looked at it.
The words read:Diamond necklace—Egret Island.
“That’s Wester’s message to Ignaz Nitron telling him to steal Professor Viga’s heirloom!” he cried out excitedly.
Joe described the alchemist’s experience with the smugglers while Frank laid the paper on the table beside Wester’s open notebook to compare the handwriting.
“It’s the same!” he declared after studying the two samples carefully.
Lieutenant Mishkin examined the evidence. “You’re right,” he agreed. “This is the proof we need. But why did Wester leave a message about Egret Island out here in the Everglades?”
“Do you want to tell them about it, Chief?” Frank asked the gang leader.
“There’s nothing to tell!” Wester snarled.
Mark Morphy, however, wanted to ingratiate himself with the authorities. “If I report everything I know, will you use me as a witness and go easy on me?”
“I can’t promise,” the lieutenant said, “but cooperation has never hurt. Before you begin, though, let me read you your constitutional rights.”
Wester glared at his accomplice, who was informed that he did not have to say anything without the advice of a lawyer. But Morphy was frightened and ready to talk.
“Mr. Wester wanted more paintings than he co
uld afford,” he said. “So he decided to go into smuggling and poaching to raise the dough.”
“Shut up!” Wester grated.
Morphy paid no attention to him. “That’s when he brought me into the deal,” the former secretary went on. “He organized the gangs led by Nitron and Tom Lami, but he didn’t want to be known to them. That’s why he left their orders here in the stone house.”
“How’d he ever find this place?” Frank asked.
“I don’t know. It’s been abandoned for decades. He just ran into it when he was out exploring the Everglades, I believe.”
“And that bad limp he put on when we met him was just a fake,” Joe stated.
“Sure. That way no one suspected him of getting around in the wilderness by himself.
“What happened after Nitron and Lami received their messages?” Frank asked.
“Ignaz and Tom were supposed to burn them,” Morphy replied. “Only, Ignaz left this one lying around by mistake.”
Wester could not contain himself any longer. “Nitron is a fool!” he exploded. “First he left a fingerprint on the wall when he took the Bolivar painting in Bayport. Then he failed to burn the Egret Island message.”
“Why did you have the picture stolen when your brother was giving it to you anyway?” Frank pressed him.
“My guess is you were hoping to collect the insurance money,” Joe added. “Then you’d have the money and the picture.”
Wester’s guilty look showed the Hardys Joe was right, even though he did not admit the fact.
“How did Tom Lami get your gun?” Frank asked.
“Mr. Wester gave it to me,” Morphy volunteered. “I passed it on to Tom.”
“Was Mrs. Summers involved in your scheme?” Joe wanted to know, remembering how suspiciously the surly housekeeper had acted.
“You kiddin‘?” Morphy replied. “She doesn’t even like me. Besides, she feels she’s Raymond’s watchdog whose mission in life is guarding his treasures. So she barks at anyone who dares enter the house. ”
“I have one more question,” Frank said. “Where is the Bolívar portrait?”
Morphy shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Mystery of Smugglers Cove Page 10