No Way Out

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Frank ducked back behind the partially open door for a few seconds, plotting his attack. He peeked back into the room. The light still shone from the opposite wall, but the shadow was no longer moving in it. Frank strained his hearing, but there was no sound, so he stepped silently inside the room.

  Bare feet, he told himself. Good move.

  Following the wall with one hand, he crept around the room. When he got to the opposite side, he discovered that the light had been coming from behind a closet door that was slightly ajar. He still heard nothing but his own heavy heartbeat and the groans and rattles of the house.

  He stopped for barely a second to take a quiet breath and try to slow down his pulse. Then he peeked into the closet.

  A row of costumes hung from a high rod, and he was startled to see that the bulb hanging from the closet ceiling was not on. The light was coming from the back of the closet, so the heavy clothes were backlit.

  He paused again, but still heard nothing except quick bursts of air from his own nostrils. He reached up and moved first one garment, then another, to reveal an open door hidden in the back wall of the closet. The light he’d seen came from beyond that door and up a short, narrow flight of ten steps. For a moment he thought he saw the shadows of someone’s legs pacing at the top of the stairs, but they disappeared.

  Frank cautiously placed the bare toes of his left foot on the first step and leaned forward. Relieved to hear no creaking response from the wooden plank, he pulled his full weight forward and started up the secret passageway.

  It was so narrow, his shoulders brushed against both side walls as he moved slowly upward, one cautious step at a time. He had to duck his head and shoulders to keep from grazing the ceiling above. When he stepped onto the third tread, he felt a sharp twinge in his heel. He reached down and felt the edge of the step. It was splintered away into sharp shards of wood. He rubbed his heel and then started up again.

  He held his breath when he reached the halfway point. He knew that when he rose onto the sixth step he would be able to get his first glimpse of whatever was waiting at the top.

  He crouched down a little farther and placed his foot on the sixth step. He felt another sharp twinge. But this one was in his shoulder—and it came from the fingers that had clamped on to it.

  4 The Gauntlet Is Thrown

  His heart booming through his chest, Frank spun around, trying to knock the hand off his shoulder.

  “Alan!” he said, recognizing his host’s face in the dim light. “What are you … where did … how?” Frank stopped to inhale a gulp of air. “I didn’t know you were still up,” he finally said.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Alan answered. “I heard some strange noises and thought I’d take a look. You startled me.”

  “Yeah … well … same here.”

  Alan’s hand remained on Frank’s shoulder, and he felt a gentle pressure moving him back down the steps. It was clear that Alan wanted him away from the staircase.

  “Do you have any other guests staying in the house?” Frank asked his host as he reluctantly followed him down the staircase.

  “No, why?” Alan didn’t hesitate before answering, but he didn’t seem surprised by the question either. They walked through the closet and back into the main room.

  “I thought I saw the shadow of someone pacing back there,” Frank answered, nodding toward the secret passageway. He decided not to tell Alan about the sounds he’d heard from his bed—the sounds that had started him on the search.

  “It was probably me,” Alan said, still guiding Frank firmly down the small corridor. “I’ve been up for hours. All this mess with the maze … I’ve got to figure out who’s doing this.”

  They finally reached the main hall. “You probably just saw shadows—maybe tree branches through a window or something,” Alan pointed out.

  “Mmmm,” Frank said, looking around.

  “Hey,” Alan said, his expression brightening. “Maybe it was just a ghost. All the old houses on Cape Breton have them. Why should this one be any different, eh?”

  They had arrived at the door to the Hardys’ guest suite. “You’d better get some sleep, now,” Alan said. “You want to be rested and fit for the tournament tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” Frank said. “You’re right.” He could tell there was something going on that Alan wasn’t telling him, and that he was definitely in the way. But he could also tell he wasn’t going to get any more information about the secret staircase from Alan at that moment. So he changed the subject.

  “By the way,” he said as Alan started to move away from the door. “The twins told us you’re filming all the activities this week.”

  “I am,” Alan said, turning back. “And we’ve got an ace studio doing the work. I can’t wait to see how they cut it.”

  “I’d like to see the rough print of tonight’s filming as soon as possible,” Frank said. “Joe and some others saw a man running into the woods right after the flaming arrow was shot. We’re hoping the filmmakers caught it and we can get an ID.”

  “I’ll give you the names and numbers in the morning,” Alan said. “But I’ve already talked to them. They got no shots of the archer with the flaming arrow.”

  “That’s okay,” Frank said. “There might be something else that will help.” He said good night and went back into his room.

  He heard Alan walk down the hall. Opening the door just a couple of inches, Frank saw Alan turn the corner to the small corridor leading to the hidden door in the closet. I’m going back up there, Frank promised himself, but not tonight.

  When he plunked onto the bed this time, he fell asleep.

  * * * *

  “Come on!” Joe’s voice drilled into Frank’s ears. “It’s eight o’clock. The games start in two hours. We’ve got to get organized.”

  Frank felt his dream slipping away as the Saturday morning sun shone on his eyelids. “Hey,” he grunted, sitting up. “I was having the weirdest dream. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and wandered around the second floor and saw this guy … no, Alan … no, this guy and Alan … that was after the hidden door in the back of the closet that led to a little stairway … and Alan said the guy was a ghost, but I didn’t believe him, and—”

  “Whoa. Slow down,” Joe called from the bathroom. “Alan was a ghost on a hidden stairway? That’s some dream.”

  “No, Alan said the other guy was a ghost. Wait a minute. It wasn’t a dream.” Frank stood and scratched his shoulder. “It happened.”

  While they cleaned up and got dressed, Frank told his brother about his midnight exploration.

  “Are you really sure you saw these shadows?” Joe asked him.

  ‘Well, yeah … I think so.” Frank replayed the whole scene in his mind.

  “And it wasn’t Alan?” Joe said.

  “How could it be? He caught me from behind, so he wasn’t up there.”

  “Unless there’s another way to get in and out of that room,” Joe said.

  “Right,” Frank agreed. “That’s definitely possible. An old house like this probably has lots of hidden passageways and secret rooms. I’d like to get up there and scope it out. Maybe later—when we’re sure the Hortons are all out of the house. In the meantime, we need to find out who’s trying to destroy Alan’s maze.”

  “I wish I’d gotten a better look at that guy who ran into the woods,” Joe said as he combed his hair. “I’d like to compare stories with other witnesses. When I talked to Officer Chester, he pointed out a couple of people who were helping Alan with the cleanup last night. They live in town—Harold and JoAnne Donaldson. They also reported a man running away, but they left before I could talk to them. The twins can probably help me track them down.”

  “Good. And don’t forget, Alan has those documentary filmmakers on the job. He’s giving me their names this morning. Maybe the running guy was caught on camera last night.”

  “Excellent,” Joe said.

  “I also want to find out more a
bout Vincenzo Blackstone. A lot of the people here probably know who he is, and someone might know whether he’s around the island. Ray and Kay can tell me who’d be the most likely person to know where he is.”

  “We can start that search right now,” Joe said, “and pull up some preliminary stuff from my laptop.”

  “Great, let’s get going,” Frank urged. “Maybe we can get some work done before the jousting matches start later this morning.”

  “I don’t want to miss those,” Joe said. “The Hortons have picked out horses for us and set up some training and practice times.”

  Frank led the way. Joe grabbed his notebook computer and followed quickly.

  Over a quick breakfast with the twins, Joe searched the Internet for Blackstone. “He’s got a pretty flashy Web site,” Joe reported to the others.

  “I’m not surprised,” Kay said. “He’s all about flash.”

  “And not much to back it up,” Ray added.

  “He’s got a whole calendar of appearance dates and a maze-architect schedule,” Joe continued. “Nothing here about coming to Cape Breton, though, or any mention of your dad’s festival.”

  “Also no surprise,” Kay muttered.

  While Joe clicked away in the background, the twins gave Frank names and descriptions of people he could ask about Blackstone’s whereabouts.

  Joe finally closed his computer. “I managed to get his e-mail addresses and his telephone numbers,” he said with a grin, “and even his cell phone number. We can contact him directly, if we want.”

  “You’re a genius hacker,” Frank said, copying the numbers into his PDA. “First, let’s see if we can track him down without him knowing about it,” Frank said.

  “I haven’t told you the best part,” Joe said. “Turns out he has a U.S. driver’s license, which I copied onto this CD. Point me to a printer, and I can get us some mug shots to work with.”

  “There’s one in my room,” Ray said. “Help yourself.”

  Joe took the disc from his computer and printed out a dozen copies of Vincenzo Blackstone’s face on Ray’s printer.

  “Yuck, that’s definitely him,” Kay said when Joe returned with the mug shots.

  “This is great,” Frank said. “I’m going to work the crowd with these—flash them around and see whether anyone’s spotted him.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Ray said. “Oh, Dad asked me to give you this card. It’s for the film studio. Skip Jennin is the assistant director, and Dad told him to give you whatever you want.”

  “Perfect,” Frank said, pocketing the card. “Okay, I’m out of here. See you at eleven at the stables,” Frank told Joe. “Jousting practice … don’t forget!”

  “You’ll love the horses we picked out for you,” Ray said. “They’re really good with strangers and with the crowds on the field. But I know you both have ridden a lot, so they’re pretty lively, too.”

  “I’m so happy you guys are here,” Kay said as she watched Frank leave. “Dad’s been planning this event for years. He’s put all his energy and creativity—”

  “And money—” Ray interjected.

  “And heart,” Kay continued, “into restoring the maze and sharing it with people. It’s just got to be a success. Please don’t let some jealous jerk ruin it!”

  “We’re on it,” Joe assured her. “Don’t worry.”

  Joe grabbed his computer and headed back up to the guest suite to drop it off. He pulled a lightweight blue sweater over his T-shirt and left the room. As he walked back toward the large, sweeping staircase, he peered down the small corridor that Frank had followed in the middle of the night.

  Joe looked around. There was no one else on the second floor he could see or hear, so he headed straight for the door that Frank had told him about. It was unlocked, so he stepped into the room. He waited for a minute, but he heard nothing.

  Remembering the description that Frank had given, Joe headed straight across the room to the closet with the medieval costumes. He pulled the hanging clothes aside to reveal the hidden door in the back wall of the closet. It was wide open, and the small stairway was awash with light from the room above. Joe heard someone pacing back and forth just beyond the top of the stairs. The sound suddenly stopped, and a familiar voice called out.

  “Is someone down there?” Joe heard Alan say. ‘Who’s there—Kay? Ray?”

  “It’s Joe. May I come up?”

  Alan walked to the top step and stared down at Joe. “Might as well,” he said. “I give up. I should have known that I couldn’t keep the famous Hardys from scoping out my hiding place. You guys are even better detectives than Ray told me you were.”

  At the top of the staircase, Joe stepped into a small room. There were no windows and no other doors that Joe could see. A small desk and chair anchored one corner, and a comfy-looking chair and a bookcase full of old books filled the opposite corner. A long artist’s table ran the length of one wall, lit by a lamp with a small fan hanging from the ceiling. A few large pieces of paper lay on top of the far end of the table. From where Joe stood, they looked like engineering schematics or diagrams.

  “This is my little retreat,” Alan said. “A place to get away and do some thinking or reading.”

  “It’s pretty cool,” Joe said. “So do you design your mazes up here too?” He glanced at the papers lying on the table.

  Alan quickly gathered up the papers and shoved them into a deep drawer in the table. “Sometimes,” he said abruptly, “but these aren’t for anyone else’s eyes just yet.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t keep the doors locked, Alan,” Joe said. “Frank and I were both able to just walk right in.”

  “I keep all the doors leading into here locked,” Alan said, his tone harsh. “When I’m not here, they’re locked. Once in a while, when I’m up here, I don’t lock the doors—but Penny and the twins don’t invade my little den unless they’re invited.”

  “I hear you,” Joe said. “And Frank and I wouldn’t have, either, if we’d known what was up here. But we’re on the case now, so don’t be surprised if we show up in some unexpected places. We’re determined to help you find out who’s trying to destroy your maze. And that means following up on anything we think seems suspicious.”

  “Good,” Alan said. The harshness in his voice had softened a little. “I appreciate it.”

  “Speaking of suspicious, the twins told me about Vincenzo Blackstone.”

  Alan’s expression turned dark again as he frowned and jutted out his chin in a defiant angle. “That reprobate!” he said. “I’ll be surprised if he’s not behind the problems we had yesterday. He has no qualms about destroying other people’s property or lives. I’ve already put out a few feelers among some friends to see if they know he’s behind the trouble. I called Officer Chester this morning, and the police are on it too. I’ll bet you anything Blackstone will turn up on the island. And if he does, I’m sure he’s planning more trouble.”

  “Frank and I are trying to figure out how the archer lit his arrow without attracting some attention. An obvious way would have been for him to use the fire-eater’s equipment. Frank talked to him and he seemed okay, but we wanted to check with you. Do you know him personally, or did you hire him just for this event?”

  “I don’t know him at all,” Alan said, “but I think he’s from Newfoundland. I hired him through a talent agency in Halifax. I can give you the name and number of the person I talked to there.” He jotted a few notes on a small scrap of paper. He handed Joe the paper, then walked to a large trunk that served as a table next to the reading chair. “Would you like to see the gauntlet?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Joe said eagerly, joining Alan at the trunk.

  With a flourish, Alan lifted the heavy lid and reached inside. Joe peered into the deep cavity of the trunk … and saw nothing.

  5 Pay the Piper

  Alan didn’t speak for a minute. He just stared into the empty trunk. Then he closed the lid.

  “You know,” he said,
“I just remembered. I told Penny to put it in the safe in our closet.” He nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s where I told her to put it, and I’m sure she did just that.”

  He beamed a big smile at Joe. “Well, you’d better be getting out to the stables,” he said. “Shorty is waiting for you. He’ll put you through your paces with Abiyad so you’ll be ready for the amateur jousting matches.”

  “Are there any more entrances into this room?” Joe asked.

  “Sure,” Alan said. “All of the secret rooms in this house have more than one escape route.”

  Joe looked around the room, trying to figure out where the other exit was. “So where—”

  A ringing phone interrupted his question. Alan opened a drawer in the long table and pulled out a phone, but he didn’t answer it. Instead, he turned to Joe and smiled. “Better get going,” he said. “You need to log some practice time if you’re going to get that brass ring.”

  The phone kept ringing, but Alan waited until Joe walked toward the door. As Joe walked down the narrow staircase, he heard Alan pick up the phone and whisper a few words, but he couldn’t make out what was said. Joe lingered halfway down the staircase before Alan firmly closed the door behind him.

  Joe tried to hear anything through the door, but he couldn’t—so he left the house and headed for the bazaar.

  He heard Kay’s laughter first, then spotted her talking to a boot maker who was working in one of the booths. “Joe, look!” she called when she saw him walking up. She turned her leg around in both directions. “What do you think?” White leather boots were pulled up over her jeans and turned down into cuffs above her knees.

  “They’re perfect,” Joe assured her. “Just what you need for a medieval adventure.”

  “I totally agree,” she said, peeling them off. While the boot maker continued to measure her feet and legs for her custom-made pair of boots, Joe asked Kay about the couple he wanted to interview.

  “Officer Chester pointed them out to me last night,” he said. “They were helping you clean out the burned hedge. The officer said they lived in the village, and they saw someone running toward the forest at about the same time I did. I’d like to talk to them and compare notes.”