The teens rushed to the window and looked out. They immediately spotted the man. He was fleeing down the fire escape.
“We’ve done this before,” Joe shouted. “Let’s go after him!”
Joe climbed through the window first, glad to feel the cool night air on his throbbing head, and started after the man.
Behind him Frank slipped, but he grabbed the rail just in time.
The man was halfway down the building’s side now. The only light helping the Hardys to see came from the hotel’s windows. It wasn’t enough light for them to be able to identify the intruder, but Joe had a pretty good idea of who he was.
By now the man had reached the bottom landing, which was still several feet above the ground. He looked up once, but his face was still so obscured by the darkness that it was impossible to make out any features. He quickly jumped to the alley below and sprinted away.
“We can’t let him get away!” Joe shouted. Now he had reached the bottom landing himself, and without any hesitation he jumped several feet to the alley below.
Frank was sure that Joe’s head had probably suffered additional shock from the impact of jumping, but he was impressed that it hadn’t kept Joe from running after the intruder at full speed.
Frank reached the bottom landing a split second after his brother, jumped down to the alley, and followed Joe.
The alley was long and lit with spotlights from the backs of the buildings it bordered. Overflowing garbage cans narrowed the alley.
Up ahead, the fugitive deliberately tipped over garbage cans to slow down the Hardys. For the next several minutes Frank and Joe had to tromp through foul-smelling garbage to catch up with the man.
Finally Frank and Joe reached the end of the garbage-filled alley, but the man jumped into a waiting car and sped away.
“You know who that was, don’t you?” Frank said.
“Well, I don’t know exactly which one of Senhora de Feira’s sons it was,” Joe said, “but I do know that it was one of them.”
“That was a brilliant idea you had, Joe—to put Frau Rilke’s map in the hotel safe,” Frank said. “I’m sure that’s what the guy was after.”
“Now what?” Joe said.
Frank sniffed his shirt and grimaced. “Well, the first thing we need to do is take showers.”
“Yeah. We’ll probably need to go back the way we came,” Joe added, “because smelling like this, we probably won’t be allowed through the front door of the hotel.”
“You’re probably right,” Frank said.
They headed back down the alley, trying to avoid as much of the spilled garbage as possible. “We know one thing now,” Joe said. “This mission isn’t going to be as easy as we’d hoped.”
6 A Real-life Movie
* * *
Frank and Joe hurried back up the fire escape to the open window of their room and climbed through.
“Whichever de Feira brother that was, he must have broken the lock on the window and come into our room that way,” Joe said, examining the metal hooks. But when he found that nothing appeared broken and that the window locked when he turned the mechanism, he added, “Wait—scratch that. The lock works perfectly.”
“That means he got in through the door,” Frank said. “He either managed to get a pass key or he knows how to use burglar’s tools.”
Joe opened the door to their room and examined its locking mechanism. Not seeing any scratch marks, he closed the door and said, “I vote for a pass key, Frank. Dad told us that these guys have all kinds of connections.”
“That’s scary. This means we’re not really safe in our room,” Frank said. “I think we need to tell Dad and then notify the hotel authorities.”
“But if we tell Dad, he and Mom will make us move into their room,” Joe said.
“Right,” Frank agreed. “Hmm . . . I don’t like the thought of that.”
“Not only that,” Joe continued, “but we don’t want to scare off the de Feira brothers. We want to catch them in the act. Right?”
Just then there was a knock at the door. “We’re back from our walk, boys,” Mr. Hardy said. “Are you ready to go to Inspector Oliveira’s house?”
“Just give us a few minutes, Dad!” Joe called through the door. “We need to finish cleaning up.”
“Okay,” Mr. Hardy said. “Five minutes.”
Frank and Joe ran around their room, shedding their dirty clothes and pulling clean clothes out of the armoires. Joe took a quick shower. When Joe jumped out, Frank jumped in.
They had just finished combing their hair when Mr. Hardy knocked on their door again. “Come on, boys. We need to leave.”
Joe opened the door. “No problem, Dad,” he said. He grinned at Frank. “In fact, we were wondering what was keeping you.”
Mr. Hardy sniffed the room. “Something stinks in there,” he said.
“We were thinking the same thing, Dad,” Frank said, closing the door behind him and Joe. “I’ll report it to the manager tomorrow.”
Inspector Oliveira had sent a police department van to take the Hardys to his house. The driver didn’t mind using the sirens and the blue dome light to speed them through the evening traffic in the heart of the city.
Inspector Oliveira and his family lived across the Tagus River, which was spanned by the enormous Ponte 25 de Abril in the Lisbon suburb of Cacilhas on the Setúbal peninsula. When they reached the center of the bridge, the driver pulled over into a police lane and stopped so that the Hardys could take in the view.
“Oh, it’s so gorgeous,” Aunt Gertrude said. “Lisbon is such a beautiful city.”
“Muito obrigada, Senhora,” the driver said. “Thank you very much.”
Once they were back in traffic the driver informed them that they were only ten minutes from Inspector Oliveira’s house. Joe took this as a challenge. So he checked his watch and was impressed that the driver was right on target—almost to the second.
“Goodness! There’s a crowd of people here,” Mrs. Hardy said. “I thought it was just going to be a small reception.”
“Oh no, miss,” the driver said. “Most of the police officers in Lisbon are here tonight to meet the famous Fenton Hardy from the United States.”
Frank knew that his father was probably groaning inside. He much preferred smaller gatherings and discussing details of the various mysteries that were stumping detectives all over the world. Mr. Hardy was usually able to offer some suggestions to help solve these cases.
“There’s Inspector Oliveira now,” the driver said. He nodded toward the front door of the house. “He must have been watching for us.”
“Great,” Mr. Hardy said.
Just as Inspector Oliveira reached the van a voice called from the porch of the house. “Father? Is that the Hardys?”
“Yes, Isabel!” Inspector Oliveira called back. “Come and meet everyone.”
Joe gave the inspector a puzzled look. No one had mentioned that he had a daughter. “This night could turn out to be more interesting than we thought,” he whispered to Frank.
As Frank watched the girl approach, he said, “I think you’re right!”
When Isabel reached the group, Inspector Oliveira introduced her to everyone.
“Oh, Isabel, you are absolutely lovely,” Aunt Gertrude said. “You look like a movie star.”
Isabel smiled. “Well, actually, I have been an extra in a couple of Portuguese movies. Nothing really big, but it was fun. I’m hoping that one day, well . . . let’s just say a trip to Hollywood is a dream of mine!”
“Wow!” Frank and Joe said in unison, causing everyone to laugh.
“Isabel, even though Frank and Joe are well-known for solving mysteries, I think they’d have more fun with you than with us old folks,” Inspector Oliveira said. “Why don’t you take over from here? Okay, guys?”
“That sounds good to me,” Joe said.
“Ditto,” Frank agreed.
As the three teens headed back to the house together Frank
turned to Isabel. “Your father sometimes talks like an American. Where did he learn his English?”
“Texas,” Isabel replied.
“Texas?” Frank said. “You’re kidding.”
Isabel smiled. “No, I’m serious. He got his master’s degree in forensic science at Texas Tech University in Lubbock about five years ago. I spent a year at one of the high schools there.”
When they reached the front porch, Frank noticed two entrances. Isabel opened the door on the left. “Welcome to my house, gentlemen!” she said.
“Wow. This is a great place!” Frank said, looking around.
“I wouldn’t mind having a pad like this myself back in Bayport,” Joe echoed.
“Have a seat and I’ll get us some Sumol,” Isabel said. “It’s a good thing to drink in Portugal. It’s really fizzy and comes in all kinds of fruit flavors.”
“Sounds good,” Frank and Joe said.
Within a couple of minutes, Isabel returned with a tray and three drinks. She handed one each to Frank and Joe, took the third one, and then sat down in a plush chair opposite the boys.
“After Mother died three years ago, Father redid the entire house,” Isabel explained. “He said he wanted to give me privacy.” She smiled. “While that was true, I also think he was hoping that if I felt I had my own apartment, I’d want to stay here—at least for a few years, until he got used to being without my mother.”
“It must have worked,” Frank said.
Isabel nodded. “I wouldn’t have left anyway because my father has always respected my privacy. After Mother died, though, I just wanted to stay near him to make sure he was all right.”
“He seems all right to me,” Joe said.
“For the most part he is because he keeps very busy—but I still worry about him sometimes,” Isabel said. “He was really looking forward to your visit. He has such respect for your father.”
“I think the feeling is mutual, Isabel,” Frank said.
“Your parents seem to feel the same way about you guys, too,” Isabel said. “I’d say we’re among the lucky few in this world.”
Frank and Joe nodded.
“Well, tell me about Frank and Joe Hardy, boy detectives,” Isabel said. “Naturally, having a policeman for a father, all of my life I’ve been around issues that require police involvement. Sometimes I even think about giving up on trying to become a movie star and instead going for a degree in criminal justice. I love adventure!”
Frank and Joe took turns telling Isabel about some of the mysteries they had solved, not only in Bayport but all over the world.
“In fact,” Joe said, “we’re working on solving a mystery here in Lisbon.”
Isabel’s eyes widened. “Really? What is it?”
Joe glanced at his brother to see if Frank agreed with his decision to share Frau Rilke’s secret with Isabel. He got an almost imperceptible nod. Joe was sure that Frank felt the same way he felt: that Isabel Oliveira would be a tremendous asset and a great ally in helping them to recover Frau Rilke’s suitcase of gold bars.
When the Hardy boys finished telling Frau Rilke’s story, Isabel seemed stunned by what she had just heard.
“It’s like a movie plot,” she finally said, then blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know Frau Rilke’s family went through terrible times during that war, and I shouldn’t . . .”
“Oh no, Isabel, you’re right—it really is just like a movie,” Frank said, “but in this case, this is reality and this woman needs our help.”
Isabel stood up. “More Sumol?” she said.
“Please!” Joe said.
“It’s really good,” Frank said. “I wish we could get this in Bayport.”
“Well, I know it’s exported to the U.S.,” Isabel said, “but it may not be available everywhere.”
“We’ll ask our Portuguese friend Catarina about it when we get back to Bayport,” Joe said. “If she doesn’t know, then I’m sure someone in her family would.”
When Isabel came back with refilled glasses, she said, “Unfortunately there are a lot of young fascists in this country now and people are starting to take them more seriously. I think we need to be very careful.”
“After our visit to Senhora de Feira’s house and the encounter with her sons, I’d agree,” Joe said.
“Isabel, we’re fairly certain that the man who broke into our room at the hotel is one of the de Feira brothers,” Frank added, “so we know they’re serious.”
“I don’t even think we should tell my father about it yet,” Isabel said.
That comment surprised the Hardy boys.
“Why?” Frank asked.
“My father is a very good policeman,” Isabel explained, “but sometimes he’s blind to the indiscretions of men and women on his side.”
“What are you saying?” Joe asked. “That there are Lisbon police officers who are fascists?”
Isabel nodded. “I’ve heard things about some of them,” she said. “Of course, there’s nothing that anyone can prove. They’re too smart for that. Anyway, it’s probably best if we keep this to ourselves for a while.”
“Okay, if you think so,” Joe said.
“I’m curious if there’s any talk on the streets about that suitcase with the gold bars,” Isabel said. “I can ask around a bit.”
“Do you think the de Feiras would really go around talking about it?” Frank asked. “Wouldn’t they want to keep it quiet, so they wouldn’t have any competition?”
“That’s what I’d do,” Joe said.
“They might just brag about it without giving away too much information,” Frank said.
“It’s possible,” Isabel said. She hesitated for a minute. “What we don’t want is for word to get around Lisbon that a map exists, showing the exact location of that suitcase,” she continued. “If that happens, your lives could be in serious danger.”
“Well, after the incident tonight at the hotel I’d say that is a definite possibility,” Joe said.
“I agree with Joe, Isabel,” Frank added. “Those de Feira brothers seem dangerous.”
“It’s not the de Feira brothers I’m worried about. My father says they’re not really violent. They just try to intimidate,” Isabel said. “I’m worried about men who wouldn’t think twice about dumping your bodies off the Ponte 25 de Abril!”
7 The Fake Maps
* * *
Frank and Joe were still in bed the next morning when the telephone rang.
Frank picked up the receiver. “Hello,” he said sleepily.
“Frank! It’s Isabel Oliveira,” Isabel said. “We’ve got problems.”
Instantly Frank was wide awake. “Joe,” he whispered. “It’s Isabel!”
Joe sat up slowly, trying to come back from the dream he was having about him and Frank solving a sensational crime back in Bayport. “What’s wrong?”
“What happened, Isabel?” Frank said into the receiver. “Are you all right?”
“It’s about Frau Rilke’s suitcase,” Isabel said.
“What about it?” Frank said.
Joe was now out of bed and sitting beside Frank, his ear as close to the receiver as possible.
“I overheard some of Father’s men talking on the police radio this morning,” Isabel explained. “Evidently the word on the streets is—and I quote—you and Joe have a map that shows where some gold bars are buried here in Lisbon.”
“Great,” Frank said. “Now what?”
“I don’t think that anyone except us knows that the gold is in the backyard of Senhora Bragança’s house,” Isabel said. “So for right now it should be safe. But I’m worried about you two.”
“So am I,” Frank said.
Joe leaned away from the receiver and nodded. “You got that right,” he said.
“I have to be at the television studio in a few minutes, so I need to leave,” Isabel said, “but I just wanted to warn you to be careful.”
“Thanks, Isabel,” Frank said. “We’ll talk to you l
ater.”
“Something doesn’t make sense here, Frank,” Joe said. “Last night Isabel seemed certain that the de Feira brothers wouldn’t spread the word around Lisbon about the map. What happened?”
“They’re just dumb,” Frank said.
“Do you really think they’re that dumb, Frank?” Joe asked.
For several minutes Frank didn’t say anything. Finally he looked at Joe with an expression of both anger and disappointment. “Well, there is only one other way that it could have happened, Joe, and I don’t like what it means.”
Joe nodded slowly. “Do you think Isabel is behind it?” he asked.
“A good detective would have to consider that as a possibility, Joe,” Frank said.
“But her father is a high-ranking police official,” Joe protested.
Frank shrugged. “This sort of thing has happened before,” he reminded Joe.
“It’s hard to trust anyone these days,” Joe said sadly.
“I know,” Frank said. He stood up and stretched. “For now it’s just speculation on my part, though, and there really could be another explanation.”
“I hope so,” Joe said. “I really like Isabel.”
“I do too,” Frank said. “We just need to do what we always do, Joe, and that’s to keep an open mind.”
“I wonder now if that intruder last night was really one of the de Feira brothers,” Joe said.
“I was thinking that too,” Frank said.
“Well, we’ve got to do something about this,” Joe said. “Maybe we could come up with a plan to send everyone on a wild goose chase.”
They debated about different ways to do that, but none of their ideas seemed feasible.
Finally Joe said, “I know! A fake map!”
Frank looked at him. “What do you mean, a fake map?”
“Well, Isabel is the only one who knows that the real map is of Senhora Bragança’s backyard—but she doesn’t know exactly where the suitcase is buried,” Joe explained.
“Right,” Frank said. “That would keep her—and whomever else she might have told—from getting the suitcase because they couldn’t just go in and dig up the entire backyard.”
The Secret of the Soldier's Gold Page 4