A Game Called Chaos

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “I’m glad I caught you guys,” Phil Cohen’s voice said. “I’m afraid I gave you a bum steer.”

  Frank punched the speaker function so that Joe could hear the call, too. “How do you mean, Phil?” Frank asked.

  “It looks like whoever sent those messages is more clever than I thought. The university is just being used as a clearinghouse for the notes. They really came from someplace in Europe.”

  “Well, that’s strange,” Joe said. “We’re pretty convinced that someone right here in town is mixed up in this.”

  “That might make it easier to access the computer to use it as a front,” Phil said. “And this European lead could be another red herring. I’ll have to look into it further.”

  “Have you heard from Chelsea?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah,” Phil said. “Her whole office is still in an uproar, and I can’t blame them.”

  “We’ll call her after we follow up on this lead,” Joe said.

  “Good idea,” said Phil. “I’ll keep in touch. Call if you need me.” He hung up.

  Frank switched off the speaker. “You ever feel like Alice in Wonderland?” he asked Joe.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” said Joe, smiling. “Let’s find Tochi.”

  • • •

  Three minutes later they pulled up in front of Tochi’s house. It was a small, two-story Victorian with a large porch running around the front and one side. It hadn’t been maintained well, even though the grass had been mowed recently. Frank figured that Tochi didn’t have the time, temperament, or salary needed to keep the place up. He wondered how much money an assistant professor made—probably not nearly as much as a successful game designer like Royal, he guessed.

  Though it had grown dark, Frank and Joe saw no lights on inside the house.

  “Think he’s home?” asked Frank.

  Joe shrugged and got out of the car. “Let’s find out.” Frank followed. The brothers strolled up onto the porch and knocked on the front door. No one answered. Frank moved to a nearby window and peered inside.

  “I don’t see anyone,” he said. “But it’s pitch black inside.”

  “Get out your flashlight,” Joe said. “I’ll try the door.” He did—the knob turned and the door swung open. “What do you know, it must be our lucky day.”

  “Maybe,” Frank said. He bent down and checked the lock with his flashlight. “Picked—badly. Just like Royal’s. We’d better go in and look around. But be careful. This could be another trap.”

  Joe nodded and Frank switched on his flashlight. The brothers stepped inside the house and looked around. “Uh-oh,” said Frank. “Looks like someone got here before we did.”

  “Again,” added Joe. “Just like at Royal’s.”

  The room was a mess, couch undone, pictures crooked, papers on the floor.

  “Do you think Winters could have done this?” Joe asked.

  “Could be,” Frank said. “The police didn’t hold him. See if you can find a light. We’d better make sure that no one is hurt in here.”

  “Check.”

  Before Joe could move, though, a menacing voice from behind stopped both Hardys dead in their tracks.

  “Hold it!” the voice said. “Move one inch and you’re toast!”

  6 Big Bad Bear

  * * *

  “Should we put our hands up, or down?” Joe asked.

  “Don’t do anything,” the voice said. “I’m going to turn on the lights. And I swear, if you move, I’ll fry you.”

  “Must be some deranged short-order cook,” Joe whispered to Frank.

  “I heard that. And I’m not kidding,” the voice said. “You guys are in big trouble.” The lights came on. The room looked even worse in the light. “What have you done to my house?” cried the voice.

  Frank and Joe stole looks over their shoulders. In the doorway stood a man of medium height and stocky build. He had curly hair and a thick black mustache. He didn’t look too much older than the Hardys. In his hand he held a small black box with a pistol grip. Frank and Joe recognized it as a stun gun.

  “Are you Ian Tochi?” Frank asked. “We came to see you,” said Joe.

  “So you could do what, wreck my place?” Tochi said. He sounded both nervous and angry.

  “We didn’t do this,” Frank said. “But we thought someone might be hurt in here—that’s why we came in.”

  “A likely story,” Tochi said.

  “Look, if you want to check our credentials, call Officer Con Riley at the Bayport PD,” Joe said. “We’ve worked with him before. Tell him Joe and Frank Hardy said you should call. His number is . . .”

  “I can look up his number,” Tochi said. “You could just be giving me the number of a confederate.” Tochi edged over to a nearby phone, fumbled with the receiver, and called the operator. A few minutes later he’d talked to Riley. He had the police officer describe the Hardys, and seemed relieved and a bit less nervous as he hung up the phone.

  “Okay,” Tochi said. “You match the descriptions that cop gave me, but I’d like to see your ID anyway. You, the tall, dark-haired one. Take your ID out slowly and show it to me.”

  Frank did as Tochi asked. When he was done, Tochi put down the stun gun. “Sorry about that,” he said. “But it’s not every day you come home to find your house ransacked and a couple of guys prowling around. What do you want, anyway?”

  “We wanted to find out what you know about Steven Royal,” Frank said. “Have you seen him lately?”

  “Ha!” Tochi said. “As if I’d want to. That guy is a jerk! Why did you want to ask me about him?”

  “We’re trying to talk to all his old friends,” Joe said. “He’s playing games with his new publisher, running them around on a wild-goose chase.”

  “Sounds like Steve. But I haven’t seen him since the last time we were in court.”

  “You mean about Bombo Bear?” Frank asked.

  Tochi looked surprised. “You know about that? Of course, the suit didn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t have the money to continue pursuing it.”

  “I thought you made a pile off Bombo,” Joe said.

  “You’d be surprised how fast the money goes,” Tochi said, smiling sheepishly. “Especially when you’re in college. And I didn’t have the best agreement with the toy manufacturer, either. Now, the sales on Bombo are practically nonexistent. Luckily, I finished going to school so I could get this assistant professor position. A lot of inventors deliver mail for a living. At least I get to teach mechanical engineering.”

  He sighed. “Things would have been a lot different, though, if Anne Sakai and I had hooked up on that computer game as we planned.”

  “I thought she was Royal’s partner,” Frank said.

  “Partner isn’t exactly the right word for it,” Tochi said. “She put up with him. That’s all anyone ever does. Sure, they worked well together, but it’s not like they were married or anything. Royal was good at all the things she hated, like publicity and personal appearances. The two of them fought like cats and dogs most of the time. If he’d been around when her plane crashed, I’d have guessed he’d killed her.”

  “Do you think someone killed her, then?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, no. It was just a freak accident. Anne was good with planes. She had a real knack with anything mechanical.”

  “You must be pretty good with mechanical things yourself,” Frank said. He gave Joe a glance that reminded the younger Hardy of the mechanical spider in Frank’s backpack.

  “That’s why I got my teaching job,” Tochi said. “I’m not like Anne, though. She had a real gift. If it was mechanical, she could fix it; if it was a computer she could program it. She’d have gotten her doctorate in no time if she hadn’t become a computer gaming star. She even helped me build the original Bombo prototype. You know the way he moves his jaws when he talks? That was her idea.”

  Joe and Frank nodded.

  Tochi sighed again. “If only Royal hadn’t lured her into his video game racke
t. Yeah . . . she and I could have made a great Bombo computer game together. If she hadn’t died, I could have had a real Bombo adventure out, instead of having to suffer Royal’s parody in Forest of Chaos. I’m an idiot when it comes to computers.”

  Suddenly an idea occurred to Joe. “Is Royal good with machines like Sakai was? Did he help you with the Bombo prototype?”

  “The answer to that is, no and no,” said Tochi. “Royal is all thumbs. He couldn’t find his nose in a dark room using both hands.”

  “One last question,” Joe said. “Do you know what the primeval cave is? It was in one of Royal’s riddles.”

  “Primeval means ‘early’ or ‘original,’ so maybe it means the first game—Caverns of Chaos.”

  Joe nodded.

  “Well, I guess that gives us everything we need to know,” Frank said. He motioned to Joe that they should head for the door.

  “No problem,” Tochi said. “At least now I know you’re not burglars. Guess I should call the police.”

  “You probably should, Mr. Tochi,” Frank said. He paused at the door and looked back. “Tochi . . . that’s Italian, isn’t it?”

  “On my dad’s side,” Tochi said.

  “Spend any time in Italy?” Frank asked.

  “Some,” Tochi said. “Quite a bit when I was a kid. And I try to go back every couple of years. A lot of my family still lives there.”

  “Well, thanks again,” Frank said. He and Joe walked to their van. “Let’s head back to Jewel Ridge,” Frank said. “I think we’ve gotten all the info we’ll get here.”

  As they headed down the highway, Joe asked, “So, what was that bit checking Tochi’s genealogy?”

  “Remember when Phil said that he’d traced the computer messages to Europe?”

  “You’re thinking it’s Italy, then?” Joe asked.

  “Could be,” Frank said. “We may have another piece of the puzzle.”

  “This puzzle has too many pieces if you ask me,” Joe said. “According to the people we’ve talked to, Royal just doesn’t have the know-how to pull this kind of stunt. Winters says Royal couldn’t do the computer stuff; Tochi says Royal couldn’t have made that mechanical spider.”

  “One of them could be helping Royal, of course,” Frank said. “Or either one could be lying to us. Anne said Winters had the computer talent. Tochi sure has the mechanical ability.”

  “But both those guys really seem to hate Royal and probably wouldn’t work with him,” Joe said, leaning back in the passenger seat as Frank drove. “Rosenberg would love to have Royal free from his contract with Viking Software. But that still leaves the big question: Where is Royal?”

  Frank nodded. “It’s a tricky case, that’s for sure. Maybe Chelsea can help us crack the clue we found in the spider. Or maybe the spider itself will give us some clue.”

  “I hope so,” Joe said. “Let’s call Chelsea and then get something to eat. I think better on a full stomach.”

  • • •

  Chelsea was still at the office. No new information on Royal had come in, and her co-workers were getting even more worried. She said she had some work to finish, but would meet the Hardys at her apartment when they got back into town.

  After that, Frank and Joe picked up some doughnuts and coffee, but the food didn’t stimulate any new ideas. They were feeling pretty tired when they got back to Jewel Ridge three hours later.

  Frank was pulling the van into Chelsea’s parking lot just in time to see Chelsea walk along the well-lit path to the building from the lot.

  She stopped just outside the main door of the apartment house as a white Toyota pulled up beside her. The passenger side door of the car opened and Chelsea stooped down to talk to someone the Hardys couldn’t see. She looked angry. Then without warning a hand reached out, grabbed Chelsea’s wrist, and started to drag her into the car.

  7 Car Problems

  * * *

  Frank stepped on the gas and twisted the wheel. The tires of the van screeched as Frank shot around a row of cars and pulled in front of the white Toyota.

  As Chelsea pulled back against the person trying to drag her into the car, Joe and Frank leapt out of the van.

  “Let her go!” Joe shouted. He dashed over to Chelsea, while Frank circled over to the driver’s side and yanked the car door open.

  He cocked his fist back and said, “Do it! Now!”

  The person in the car let go, and Joe caught Chelsea as she toppled backward.

  Frank reached into the car with his free hand and pulled someone out. “Zeb Winters!” he said. “I thought we might expect more trouble from you.”

  Zeb put his hands up as if to say “Who? Me?” But what came out of his mouth was, “The lady and I were just having a little conversation.”

  “That kind of conversation can get you arrested,” Frank said. He still had his fist aimed at Zeb’s face but hadn’t decided whether or not to punch him.

  Joe joined Frank on the driver’s side of the car. “Or if not arrested, in big trouble with the lady’s friends.” If possible, Joe seemed even angrier than Frank. He looked ready to punch Zeb, too.

  “Hey, all I wanted to do was talk to her,” Winters said. “Sorry if I got a little rough.”

  “We’ll get a little rough with you if you try anything like that again,” Joe said. Frank let his arm drop; the moment for cleaning Winters’s clock had passed.

  Chelsea glared at Winters. “He’s been annoying me all day,” she said. “Following me around and making phone calls to the company.”

  “Like I said, I only wanted to talk to her,” complained Winters. “Find out what she knows about Royal stealing my 3-D code.”

  “I told you,” Chelsea said angrily, “Steven Royal did not steal your programming code for A Town Called Chaos.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Winters said smugly. “Only Royal knows, and he’s conveniently missing. But if you showed me the game demo, I could figure it out.”

  Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “There is not one person in Viking Software stupid enough to let you see that program. No way are we going to let you do to us what you’re accusing Steven of doing.”

  “That sounds pretty final to me,” Joe said to Winters. “If I were you, I’d take that answer and go away. Run very fast and very far—away from here. Got it?”

  “Any more stuff like this and you’ll be talking to the cops . . . again,” Frank added.

  Winters grumbled and then zoomed off into the night.

  “I’m really starting to dislike that guy,” Frank said as he watched Winters go.

  “Zeb Winters is a first-class jerk,” added Chelsea. “If he weren’t such a talented programmer he’d have been out of work long ago. Come on, let’s go inside and have some coffee. You can tell me what you’ve dug up.”

  “Maybe we could call out for a pizza, too,” suggested Joe.

  “Good idea,” Chelsea said. “I’ve been so frantic today, I didn’t really eat much.” All three of them went up to Chelsea’s apartment.

  Frank filled Chelsea in on what little they’d found while Joe ordered the pizza. When he was done, Chelsea flopped onto her couch. “What a nightmare this day has been!” she said. “Not only did I have Winters harassing me, but Ron Rosenberg called Dave and claimed that our contract with Royal is invalid. He said Royal promised he’d come back to Wondersoft. Rosenberg’s lawyers are supposed to stop by the office in the next day or two. Dave is completely freaked out.”

  “That sounds like an intimidation tactic to me,” Frank said.

  “Yeah,” Joe called back from the kitchen. He’d taken it upon himself to make some coffee. “Unless Rosenberg’s turned up something new since last night. He sure can’t hang a case on that e-mail he got. We can’t even be sure if it really came from Royal.”

  “Speaking of e-mail,” Frank said, “we should check in with Phil to see if he’s turned up anything new.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot in all th
e excitement,” Chelsea said. “Phil called me just before I left. He said that his computers at home couldn’t take the e-mail trace any further. He needed something more powerful. Dave and I offered him the computers at our office; they’re state-of-the-art.

  “Phil’s going to drive up tomorrow morning. I’m glad he can help out because we just don’t have the manpower to tackle this kind of thing right now. All our best computer people are jammed with work.”

  “It’ll be good to have him here,” Frank said. “We might need his expertise.”

  “And we’re doing so well on our own,” Joe said sarcastically as he brought in the coffee. “I was pretty sure that Zeb was behind the ransacking of Tochi’s apartment—until you told us he’d been here all day. His bothering you and Viking continuously doesn’t leave him any time to drive to NCU and back.”

  Frank nodded. “Yeah. Though that doesn’t rule out Zeb, or anyone else, helping Royal on this crazy stunt. None of the suspects we’ve got seem to have the skills to pull this prank off by themselves. Not even Royal.”

  “But the only one who has a motive to help Royal in messing with Viking is Rosenberg,” Joe said. “The other two guys seem to hate Royal’s guts. Hey, do you think maybe this is some kind of a scheme by Royal and Rosenberg to break Royal’s contract with Viking?”

  “If it is,” Frank said, “Rosenberg would need really great lawyers to pull it off. The courts would frown upon antics like this.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem much like a prank to me, or my company,” Chelsea said. “This stunt could cost us everything.”

  “And maybe that’s Royal and Rosenberg’s plan. If Viking went out of business, Royal’s contract would be void, wouldn’t it?” Joe asked.

  “I’d have to ask our lawyers,” Chelsea said. “I suspect that Dave is having them go over that contract with a fine-tooth comb right about now.”

  Just then the doorbell rang. “Pizza man,” said a voice on the intercom.

  Chelsea got up to press the button to buzz him in, then stopped. “I hope it’s not Zeb again. I wouldn’t put it past him to hang around and bribe the delivery guy.”