Danger Zone

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "I'm not so sure," Frank said. He cast a concerned glance toward the den. "Let's get Aunt Gertrude upstairs. Then I want to hear that tape again."

  They went into the den to find Aunt Gertrude still sitting on the couch, her head back, her eyes shut. "No ... no," she mumbled. "Leave my sister-in-law alone. She has two youngsters. If you must take someone, take me!"

  Joe raised an eyebrow. "Youngsters?" he repeated under his breath.

  Frank reached out and gently folded his hand over his aunt's. "Come on. I think you need a rest, Aunt Gertrude."

  Her eyes fluttered open. "Frank! My goodness, did I fall asleep?"

  Frank nodded.

  "Who was on the phone?" she asked with sudden hope. "Was it Fenton?"

  "No," Joe replied, thinking fast. "It was - uh - an electronic voice. You know, one of those tape recordings that tries to sell you things."

  Aunt Gertrude nodded absently. "And for that the two of you had to rush off, leaving me all alone?" Joe opened his mouth to answer, but she waved him off. "Never mind. I suppose I can't expect you to act normally when your dear mother has been - " Her voice choked in the middle of the sentence.

  "Please, Aunt Gertrude," Frank said, urging her toward the stairs. "We'll get in touch with Dad. Why don't you have a little nap? I'm sure you'll feel better."

  Protesting feebly, she allowed her nephews to take her up to her room. They sat her down on her bed, and before they were out of the room she had curled up and fallen asleep.

  They quietly skittered down the stairs, walked into their father's office, and sat down.

  "Now we know for sure we didn't run over that soda bottle in the parking lot. The kidnappers punctured the tire to keep us occupied while they took Mom," Joe said.

  "You're right," Frank agreed. "I think we should study the tape, listen to this guy's accent, listen for background noise. Did you set the ticker when you turned it on?"

  "What do you think I am, an amateur?" Joe rewound to 000 and played the tape back: "Your mother, I'm pleased to say, is enjoying quite pleasant accommodations. . . ."

  It was impossible to detect an accent, Frank thought. The voice was so garbled it could have come from Mars. But there was another sound.

  "And you do want to - "

  "Stop there!" Frank said.

  Joe already had. There had been two high-pitched squeals in the background. He rewound and played again. They listened closely to the squeals.

  "They sound like screams!" Joe said.

  Frank shook his head. "My guess is the scraping of a table leg against the floor, or some feedback into the mike."

  "Or a dog barking, or an elephant bleating, or the squeak of grease as this nut twirls his handlebar mustache." Joe slumped into the brown leather chair by his father's desk. "It could be anything! That scrambler is mixing up any noise that comes through the mike."

  Something was dawning on Frank, but he couldn't tell Joe. Not just yet. "I guess we're going to have to do what the man says, Joe," he said in a loud voice.

  Joe looked at him as if he'd just lost his mind. "But we don't know - "

  "We'll find him. I've got to go check the secret phone file."

  "Secret phone - "

  Joe's answer was interrupted by the loud tramping of footsteps on the living room floor.

  "Hey! What's going on?" a voice boomed.

  Frank ran out of the room, leaving a bewildered Joe to follow him. "Chet!" he called.

  When he got to the living room Chet Morton was standing there, dumbfounded. His broad shoulders had gone slack, making his potbelly jut out even more than usual. Drooping from his left hand was a half-eaten slice of pizza. "What did you guys do to this place?"

  Behind him Phil Cohen was squeezing his thin body behind an armchair to unplug a lamp whose bulb had shattered. Biff Hooper was standing on the opposite side of the room from Chet. Together they looked like two useless pillars of a building that had collapsed around them.

  "I wish," Frank said with a rueful smile. He quickly told them what had happened. They listened with a mixture of dread, disbelief, and anger.

  "We'll trace the call!" Chet said, jutting his pizza forward to emphasize his point. "My dad knows a guy who works for the phone company - "

  "Phil," Frank said, cutting Chet off, "can I talk to you out in the backyard?"

  Tilting his head quizzically, Phil said, "Sure."

  Frank turned to his brother. "Joe, you and the guys straighten up. We'll be right back."

  Frank moved through the house with Phil close behind. Together they stepped into the backyard.

  "What's this all about?" Phil asked.

  "I need your expertise," Frank replied. "About electronics."

  He pulled open the garage door and reached around to flick on the light. Mrs. Hardy's car stood on the left side, dwarfed by the shelves that reached upward all around it. Each shelf was stuffed with boxes and boxes of tools, gadgets, and equipment. Frank reached into an unmarked metal box on a bottom shelf.

  "I can't believe you can find anything in this mess," Phil commented, shaking his head.

  "Actually, it's very easy," Frank replied. "The trick is living in this house for eighteen years." He pulled out a long, sturdy metal loop with a rubber handle and a small white gauge.

  Phil asked, "What are you going to do with an inductance coil?"

  "Can it detect a current hidden behind a hard surface, like a wall?"

  Phil shrugged. "Sure. It's a closed electric circuit with no juice of its own. But if you hold it near an electric circuit, it picks up current, and the meter jumps. What do you need it for, Frank?"

  "Follow me," Frank answered.

  He ran back to the house. Holding the coil, Phil followed him to the living room. There, Joe, Chet, and Biff were setting up furniture.

  "What's going on?" Joe asked.

  "No clues back there," Frank answered.

  "I could have told you that," Joe said, giving Frank a bewildered look.

  But Frank was walking away from him toward a small table by the couch. On the table was a message pad, a pen, and a telephone. Wordlessly, Frank looked at Phil and pointed to the wall behind the table.

  Phil nodded knowingly and began to run the inductance coil along the wall.

  Before anyone could ask any questions Frank said, "The place looks much better. Let's get started on the kitchen."

  Realizing that something was up, Joe led the others into the kitchen. Frank stayed behind and watched as Phil passed the coil along the wall behind the phone table . . . the couch . . . the armchair. . . .

  Suddenly the needle on the meter jumped, then settled back. Phil's eyes lit up. He began to say something, but Frank held out his hand, signaling him to be quiet.

  Phil slowly brought the coil back. When the needle jumped again Phil held it at the spot. He turned to Frank with a triumphant smile.

  Frank nodded, then immediately indicated Phil to follow him again. The two of them went into the kitchen, where Frank waved everyone outside. "Let's put the barbecue grill away, guys, okay?"

  "Barbe - " Chet began, but Frank grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out the back door.

  One by one, with mystified looks on their faces, they stepped out into the backyard. Frank led them to a secluded spot under an oak tree.

  "Okay, what's all the cloak-and-dagger stuff?" Chet demanded. "Don't tell me there's a bomb hidden inside or something."

  "Not a bomb, Chet," Frank replied. "A bug. Whoever this kidnapper is, he was listening to every word we said in the house!"

  Chapter 4

  "You mean we were on 'Candid Microphone'?" Chet remarked. "If I'd known, I would have really said what was on my mind!"

  "I just hope we didn't let out anything important," Phil said.

  Joe shook his head. "What's there to hide? We don't know where Dad is. Maybe they'll believe us."

  "That's weird," Phil said.

  "What's weird?" Joe replied.

  "Your dad just left t
own without telling you where he was going?" Phil asked.

  " 'Southwestern Massachusetts' was all he said," Frank replied with a shrug. "That's the way it goes - sometimes he has to keep things secret."

  "I can't believe he wouldn't leave a number," Chet said.

  "My mom knows," Frank replied.

  "Doesn't do you and Joe a whole lot of good," Biff said. "It's not like you can call her and ask."

  Joe furrowed his brow. "No, but I do remember them talking about my dad's assignment a week or so ago. They were upstairs, and I was passing their room. I could hear them."

  All eyes focused on Joe. "What did they say?" Frank asked.

  "The usual stuff," Joe said, running the hazy events over in his mind. "Mom sounded a little annoyed. She asked if he had to go. Dad said unfortunately yes. Mom mentioned how much work there was to do around the house, Dad said he'd do most of it before he left. Mom asked if he'd call her once he got to ... " His voice trailed off.

  "To where, Joe?" Frank pressed.

  Joe put his hand to his forehead. "I wasn't really paying attention! I wanted to get back to my room. Now, let's see. What was the name of that town? Mar something."

  "Marbury," Phil suggested.

  "Marshalltown," Biff said.

  "Marmalade!" Chet blurted out.

  Biff rolled his eyes. "You marshmallow," he muttered.

  Frank ran into the house to get a New England map as the others continued to suggest names. Scurrying back outside, he opened to a list of towns at the bottom of the map.

  "Marfield," he called out, reading from the Massachusetts section of the list. "Marion, Marlborough, Marstons Mills - "

  "Wait!" Joe interrupted. "Marfield - that rings a bell. I think that was it. 'Fenton, will you call me as soon as you get to Marfield?' I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure that's what she said!"

  "That's as good a lead as any," Frank responded.

  "And Dad told her he couldn't call - he had to remain strictly incommunicado. That much I do remember clearly!"

  Frank looked levelly at Phil. "Joe and I are out of here. Can you destroy the bug? I don't care what you do to the wall."

  "You got it," Phil answered, running inside.

  "Great. The rest of you guys stick around, guard the house, make sure Aunt Gertrude is all right. We'll call from the road and give you a progress report."

  While he was speaking Frank looked from Phil to Biff to Chet. Only Chet's face reflected the doubt they were all feeling.

  "The fridge is full. Help yourselves," Frank added. All three of them nodded their agreement.

  Frank and Joe ran inside and up to their rooms. They each threw some changes of clothing and a toothbrush into a duffel bag, checked to see that their aunt was still asleep, then headed back downstairs. As they barreled toward the back door Phil's voice called out from behind them, "Wait a sec! Take this. You may need it."

  Frank turned around to see Phil holding the inductance coil out to him. "What about the other rooms in the house?"

  "I checked the kitchen, the dining room, and your dad's office," Phil answered. "I did it quickly, but I'm pretty sure they're all clean. Biff found a hole hidden behind the living room couch, which is how they got the bug in. Obviously these guys didn't have time to cover their tracks; I have a feeling they only planted the one bug."

  "Okay," Frank said, taking the coil. Calling out a hurried goodbye, he and Joe climbed into the van and took off.

  Frank stopped briefly at the end of the driveway before pulling into the street. Instinctively he and Joe cased both sides of the street. There were four parked cars.

  "Do you see any drivers?" Frank said.

  "Nope, they all look empty to me," Joe said.

  "We'll see about that." Frank stepped on the gas and took a left. He trained his eye on the rear-view mirror, but none of the parked cars followed them.

  "Looks like we're alone," Joe said, glancing up and down the quiet intersections they passed. "But just in case, let's take the scenic route."

  "Aye, aye, captain," Frank replied, taking a sudden right turn. As he wound quickly through the streets of Bayport Joe hung on to his armrest.

  Ten minutes later Frank finally pulled onto a road that would lead them to the expressway.

  "There," he said. "If anyone could follow that, I'll burn my driver's license."

  Joe looked behind them. About thirty yards back was a dark blue Buick. "You'll burn it, huh? I wonder if there are any matches in the glove compartment."

  "What?"

  "Maybe I'm being paranoid, but check out the rear-view mirror."

  Frank glanced up just as Joe spotted an abandoned gas station ahead of them. In the center island were two covered-up holes with dusty wires and hoses sticking out.

  "Slow down," Joe suggested. He pointed to the entrance. "Turn in there."

  Frank stepped on the brake, then turned. Gravel bounced on the cracked and broken concrete as the car rolled in.

  Behind them the Buick quietly pulled over to the shoulder and waited.

  "If there aren't any matches, I guess we could use the cigarette lighter on your license," Joe commented.

  Without saying a word Frank floored the gas pedal and tore out onto the street. Tires screeched behind them as the Buick pursued.

  "I don't know how this guy found us," Frank said, "but his luck is about to run out."

  He took a sharp left onto a deserted road that ran past a cornfield. The Buick followed. Frank floored the gas pedal, putting distance between them and their pursuers. As the road curved to the left he momentarily lost sight of the car in his mirror.

  Up ahead was a fork. Frank went right, then immediately turned right again onto a side street. He barreled down this road, then went left at a light that turned red just after he went through. A commercial area lay ahead, with shops lining either side of the street. Beyond it five roads fed into a traffic circle. Frank chose one of them, which trailed off into a residential area.

  Keeping his eyes trained on the empty road behind them, Joe let out a whoop of excitement. "No way that guy can find us now!"

  "Check the map," Frank said. "They're going to expect us to take the main expressway. Find us a different route."

  A cry of disgust from Joe cut Frank off. "I don't believe it!"

  Frank looked up and caught a glimpse of the Buick in his rear-view mirror. "How did he - "

  Before he could finish Joe reached for the glove compartment. Yanking it open, he pulled out a pen and an old white envelope. In seconds he had scribbled a note and handed it to his brother. Frank held it up so that he could read it without taking his eyes off the road: "We're being bugged! The coil's going nuts."

  Frank stole a quick look at his brother, who began rolling his arms as if to say keep talking.

  "This guy's going to follow us all the way to North Carolina!" Frank said. Joe gave him an okay sign as he crawled into the rear of the van. "But I think I know a way to lose him. We'll take Kirkland Road and shoot into one of those dirt paths near the academy. I think I can get us back to the highway from there."

  Joe plopped down into the passenger seat, holding a small electronic box with wires dangling from it. "Got it!" he said.

  In the rear-view mirror Frank saw the Buick suddenly speed up. He swerved onto a sandy side road that cut between two marshes.

  'You know what I think?" Joe said. 'This thing isn't a bug, it's a homing device! That would explain how he's been able to tail us so perfectly."

  "Well, there's only one way to find out for sure," Frank said. "Let's ask him. It's time we confronted this guy, Joe."

  With that, he stepped on the brake and forced the van into a ninety-degree skid. When it stopped it was blocking the road broadside.

  "Let's get this guy, Joe," Frank said.

  As Frank reached for his door handle he heard the Buick's tires squealing. He looked up to see the car careening toward them and then coming to a sudden, lurching stop. The sun, beginning to set in the
western sky, glinted off a shiny metal object in the passenger window of the Buick.

  "Duck!" Frank shouted.

  Before the word left his mouth the van windows were being shattered with a barrage of machine-gunfire!

  Chapter 5

  Frank dropped to the van floor, protecting his head with his arms. Above him shards of glass were being spit into the van. There was a sickening tuck - a - tuck - a - tuck of metal against metal as bullets raked the sides of the van. The guy with the machine gun didn't know it, but he would never penetrate the interior of the van. The sides were lined with thick sheets of metal.

  Like a trapped animal Frank hunkered as low as he could with the pedals in the way and waited for the attack to be over. For a moment he forgot about Joe, forgot about their mission, forgot about everything except the possibility that the attacker would move in and shoot them.

  When the attack finally stopped Frank was first aware of the immense silence. Then he noticed that his jaw ached from gritting his teeth, that his brother was alive beside him, and that the Buick was making a getaway.

  He rose cautiously and peered out the driver's window. Its tires spinning on the sandy road, the Buick was in the middle of a U-turn. Frank stared, focusing on the small rectangular plate between the two taillights.

  As it sped away Joe scrambled up from a crouch and joined Frank. "Did we make it," he asked, "or is this the big van in the sky?"

  "We were lucky, Joe," Frank said. "They didn't aim for the tires."

  "Yeah, that's because they were aiming higher - at us!" Joe replied. "We'd better check out the engine." Frank turned the key as Joe popped the hood. "Looks and sounds okay. We were really lucky. By the way, did you get the license number?"

  "You bet." Frank reached for the dashboard and grabbed the note that Joe had given him. "Where's that pen you were using?"

  Joe uncurled his fist to reveal a cracked ballpoint pen and his fingers smeared with dark blue ink. "Uh, right here."

  A smile curled up on Frank's lips. "You weren't too nervous there, were you?"

  "Cool as a cucumber," Joe remarked, holding out the pen. "Nothing more relaxing than a little late-afternoon strafing."