Mystery of the Phantom Heist

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Joe was right. We had to do something. And fast.

  “Here’s what I think we should do,” I whispered to Joe and Chet. “It’s not foolproof, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “Shot?” Chet murmured. “Bad word choice, dude.”

  “Go on!” Joe urged me.

  With one eye on the gladiators, I whispered my plan. “We wait until they come over to us. Chet, you knee the shield up into the guy’s face. While that’s going down, Joe and I will go for the guns.”

  “What about Colin over there?” Joe whispered. “He’s got a gun too.”

  “Uh, like, a big gun!” Chet added.

  A commotion broke out across the room. One guy was refusing to hand over his expensive-looking phone.

  “Come on,” Sierra shouted at him. “Hand it over!”

  Lindsay pulled herself up off the floor and stared open-mouthed at Sierra.

  “Wait a minute, Sierra,” Lindsay said angrily. “You’re in on this? Who are these guys?”

  “Shut your mouth, birthday girl!” Colin shouted at Lindsay.

  Lindsay planted her hands on her hips.

  “Look, jerk,” Lindsay shouted back. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re ruining my Sweet Sixteen!”

  Colin threw back his helmeted head. “That’s the idea, Linny,” he said with a laugh.

  “Wait a minute, I know that voice!” Lindsay said through gritted teeth. She ran up to him so they were inches apart, face to face. Colin threw off his helmet. “I knew it!” Lindsay exclaimed. “You guys, it’s Colin Sylvester!”

  Groans rose up from the crowd—until Colin pointed his rifle straight at Lindsay’s head.

  The crowd fell silent. A few guests sobbed softly while Lindsay froze with fear. Without moving a muscle, she uttered, “Don’t shoot . . . please.”

  I knew we couldn’t wait. We had to stop Colin now!

  I saw Joe grab one of the flaming torches from its stand. I grabbed one too. Together we marched toward Colin and his menacing rifle.

  “Drop the gun, Colin!” I demanded.

  Colin turned away from Lindsay. When he saw us, he chuckled. “Well, if it isn’t the boy detectives,” he said. “I suppose you can fight with fire. Although I prefer firepower!”

  Gasps filled the room as Colin aimed the rifle at Joe and me. I thrust my flaming torch at Colin. It didn’t touch him, but he jumped, letting the gun drop from his hands.

  Joe and I lunged for the rifle. We didn’t get very far. . . .

  “You guys, look out!” Lindsay shouted.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see the other three gladiators moving toward us. Joe and I traded worried looks. Our torches might have been effective with Colin, but they were no match for three powerful guns coming our way!

  I thought it was over, until I heard a loud, long creak. Looking up, I saw a fake tree beginning to tip over. I watched in shock as the tree came crashing down on the three gladiators, pinning them to the ground and knocking their guns from their hands.

  “How did that happen?” Joe exclaimed.

  We turned to see Chet at the base of the tree. Grinning triumphantly, he ran to grab the guns scattered on the floor. He was about to go for the last one when Sierra grabbed it first.

  “Heads up!” Sierra shouted as she tossed the gun to Colin. He caught it with one hand, then turned it on us.

  “Nice try, Hardys,” Colin snapped. “But I win.”

  “Game’s not over, Sylvester!” Joe shouted as he karate-kicked the gun out of Colin’s hand. Colin stood stunned long enough for me to run around and grab him in a choke hold.

  “Now game over!” I shouted.

  But was it? From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the gladiators dragging himself out from under the tree. His eyes burned through his helmet as he slowly stood up. But before he could come after us . . .

  “Stop right there!” a gruff voice boomed.

  Joe and I whirled around to see Chief Olaf and his officers pushing through the crowd. Behind them, looking horrified, was Sanford Peyton.

  I loosened my grip on Colin as the chief took hold of his arm.

  “Nice work, boys,” Chief Olaf grunted.

  “Um . . . thanks,” I said, surprised to hear the words coming out of the chief’s mouth. “How did you know to come?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Chief Olaf said. “Our station must have gotten a dozen calls and texts within the last fifteen minutes!”

  I smiled as a slew of guests raised their cell phones triumphantly.

  “Hey, Colin,” Joe said with a laugh. “I guess not everybody handed over their fancy phones!”

  Sanford had his arm draped around Lindsay’s shoulder. “If only I’d been here to stop this,” he said. “Why did I have to go outside?”

  “You did fine, Mr. Peyton,” Chief Olaf said. “You and the guards tracked down those Scaredevil punks. They’re on their way to the station now.”

  Colin stared at the chief. “What did they tell you?” he demanded. “If they told you I robbed the party, they lied.”

  He pointed at Joe, Chet, then me. “Those are the guys who came with the guns. They’re the ones you should be taking in!”

  “Oh, blah, blah, blah, Colin,” Lindsay said with a sigh. She turned to Chief Olaf. “Colin and his friends snuck in here dressed as gladiators, with the help of Sierra, may I add. They’re the ones who tried to rob us.”

  Colin’s face glowed red as guests called out in agreement. I glanced at Sierra. She appeared to be muttering something to Lindsay through gritted teeth. I had a feeling it wasn’t “Happy birthday!”

  “Thank you, Miss Peyton,” Chief Olaf said. “I’m sure we’ve got some Scaredevils at the station attesting to everything you said.”

  “Call my father!” Colin demanded as cuffs were put around his wrists. “I’m sure you can both work something out.”

  The chief shook his head. “Your dad’s money won’t help you this time, Colin,” he said. “And I’m sure your dad won’t be thrilled to know you were playing with his guns.”

  “Which were not loaded, by the way!” an officer holding the guns called over.

  Colin really turned red now. No wonder the vintage guns hadn’t gone off when they’d hit the floor.

  “Let’s hope your dad can afford the bail,” Chief Olaf told Colin. “And I’d be interested in seeing some of those videos you and your friends starred in.”

  Joe folded his arms across his chest as he eyed Colin.

  “Did you do it, Colin?” he asked. “Did you pay off those kids to keep the police away from the party?”

  “What if I did?” Colin snapped. He turned his glare toward Lindsay. “After the way she treated me, it’s a small price to pay for revenge.”

  Lindsay stared at Colin as the chief led him out of the hall. I turned to see Sierra being led out too, along with the other gladiators, their helmets removed to reveal their faces.

  “Sierra must have canceled the real gladiators and replaced them with Colin’s friends,” Joe figured.

  “Man,” I sighed, “did she have me fooled.”

  “She had us all fooled, Frank,” Joe said. “But now the joke’s on her.”

  “And on her psycho boyfriend,” Chet added.

  Sanford Peyton smiled at Joe, then at me. It was the first smile I’d seen from him yet.

  “I’d like to thank you guys for your help,” he said. “I’m just learning that you’re quite the detectives.”

  “Don’t forget our friend Chet,” Joe said. “If he hadn’t brought down that tree, who knows what would have happened?”

  “Hey,” Chet joked, wiggling his hand. “It’s all in the wrist!”

  This time Lindsay smiled. “I guess all three of you guys are gladiator material after all,” she said. “Why don’t you stay and hang with us?”

  “Why?” Joe teased. “So we can serve mini quiche and hot wings?”

  “No!” Lindsay laughed. “So you can party!”

  She s
pun around, calling out to her friends, “Bayport High guys really rock—am I right?”

  Their answer came in an earsplitting cheer. Chet shrugged and said, “Cool.”

  Paradise Six struck a chord as Lindsay jumped back on her throne. Waving both arms in the air, she shouted, “By order of your divine empress, let’s get this party started . . . again!”

  Some of the cops stuck around to return the stolen goods and make sure everybody was okay. As for Joe, Chet, and me—our job was done.

  Joe grinned at me as we made a beeline for the dessert table. “You know, Frank,” he said. “Those Bay Academy kids aren’t so bad.”

  “With the exception of a few,” I said. “Like maybe four or five?”

  “What about those Scaredevils who go to our school?” Chet asked. “What do you think is going to happen to them?”

  I shrugged. “They trashed Bayport for the money,” I said. “Hopefully they’ll fix it up. But that’ll be up to the judge.”

  We stood in line for the designer birthday cake, sculpted to look like an ancient Roman temple. A model of Empress Lindsay chiseled from Rice Krispies treats waved from the top.

  “You got to see it to believe it,” Joe said, chuckling.

  “Speaking of believing,” I said, “do you think the kids at school will believe we just battled an army of gladiators with nothing but torches and karate kicks?”

  “Sure they will!” Chet said. He pulled Joe’s tablet from his waist pouch and held it high. “And if they don’t, I’ve got it all on tape!”

  READ ON

  FOR A SNEAK PEEK

  OF THE NEXT MYSTERY IN THE

  HARDY BOYS ADVENTURES:

  THE VANISHING GAME

  FRANK

  DID YOU KNOW THAT COTTON CANDY depends heavily on the molecular construction of sugar?” I asked brightly, grabbing a hunk of my brother Joe’s fluffy pink confection and popping it into my mouth. “The cotton candy machine uses centrifugal force to spin hot sugar so quickly and cool it so rapidly, the sugar doesn’t have time to recrystallize!”

  My date—or so I’d been told, because she didn’t seem super attached to me—Penelope Chung, rolled her eyes. “That’s fascinating, Frank,” she said, shooting a glare at her best friend, Daisy Rodriguez, who was Joe’s date and the glue barely holding our foursome together. “Please tell me more about molecules. Or force times acceleration. Or the atomic properties of fun.”

  Joe coughed loudly, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me close enough to hear him mutter, “Ixnay on the ience-scay.”

  I couldn’t help it. Joe is always telling me science isn’t romantic, but come on. Isn’t “romance” itself a scientific concept? Attraction, biology, all that stuff?

  Daisy smiled, a little too enthusiastically. “Shall we head over to the G-Force?” she asked, looking hopefully from Penelope and me to Joe. “My dad said the first ride would be at eight o’clock. And it’s just about quarter of.”

  “Yes!” Penelope cried before Joe or I could respond, grabbing Daisy’s arm and pulling her ahead of us toward Funspot’s new ride, G-Force. Penelope leaned close to Daisy’s ear, and while I couldn’t hear what she was saying, her tone did not sound warm.

  Joe met my eye and sighed.

  “I don’t think she likes me,” I told him.

  Joe just shook his head and patted my back. “I think your powers of detection are dead-on true, bro.”

  We started walking. “Sorry,” I said. “I know you’re really into Daisy.”

  Joe nodded. “It’s okay, man,” he said, holding out his cotton candy for me to take another hunk. “I just don’t think you’re Penelope’s type.”

  I nodded. “But it’s pretty cool that we get to be some of the first people to check out G-Force, right?”

  “Very cool,” Joe agreed.

  G-Force was the new, premiere attraction at Funspot, a small amusement park that had been a staple of Bayport summers for generations, but had been getting more and more run-down over the years. Last fall, Daisy’s dad, Hector, had used their entire family’s savings to buy the park from its longtime owner, Doug Spencer, who had fallen on hard times. Hector wanted to build Funspot into a top-tier amusement park—the kind of place people would drive hours to visit. His first step toward making that happen had been to install G-Force.

  The ride was a new creation of Greg and Derek Piperato, better known as the Piperato Brothers—the hip new architects of premiere amusement rides all over the world. They built the HoverCoaster for Holiday Gardens in Copenhagen, the Loop-de-Loco for Ciudad de Jugar in Barcelona, and the ChillTaser for Bingo Village in Orlando, right here in the USA. These guys are seriously awesome at what they do. They know their physics, they know their architecture, and they keep coming up with new ideas to revolutionize the amusement industry.

  They don’t work cheap, though. According to Daisy, Hector had to take out a major loan to afford G-Force. And unfortunately, right after Hector signed the contracts—Funspot had exclusive rights to the ride for five years—Daisy’s mom had been laid off from her job as a manager at some big bank in New York City. If Daisy and her family had hoped Funspot would be successful before, now their whole future was riding on the park’s success.

  “Wow,” Joe breathed as we turned a corner, and there it was: G-Force!

  For weeks, Hector had paid for advertisements on all the local radio stations: “Come to Funspot to ride G-Force! What does it do? You’ll have to ride it to find out . . . but one thing’s for sure”—here the voice got deep and creepy—“you’ll never be the same!”

  I had been sure that seeing the attraction would be a disappointment. I mean, how could you live up to that ad? Put aside the basic scientific impossibilities of its promises (Never be the same? What, would it change your molecular structure?); it was hard to imagine a ride so impressive that it could stand up to weeks of wondering what it might look like. But the structure in front of me was, in a word, awesome. It was sleek and silver and had the curved, aerodynamic shape of a spaceship.

  “Wow,” I echoed, pointing at it like a kindergartner. “That thing is cool!”

  Joe looked confused, then followed my gaze and nodded. “Oh, sure. It does look cool. But I was talking about the crowd—check it out!”

  I looked around. Joe was right. The line coiled around several times before stretching all the way from the ride, through the “kiddie park” (where Joe and I had spent countless hours on the helicopter ride as kids), down the row of food stands, and nearly to the parking lot. When we’d arrived at the park hours earlier, it hadn’t been nearly as long.

  But it looked like all those radio advertisements worked!

  “Looks like a lot of people want to be forced—g-forced!” I said, smiling, as Daisy and Penelope slowed their pace and we caught up to them.

  Daisy looked thrilled. “I guess so!” she said, looking around at the crowd like she couldn’t believe it. “It looks like the whole student body of Bayport High is here!”

  Joe nodded, surveying the huge line. “We—uh—don’t have to wait in that, do we?”

  “Of course not.” Daisy smiled and shook her head, gallantly taking Joe by the arm. “Follow me, mister. The four of us are skipping this line. It pays to have friends in high places!”

  Penelope glanced at me warily, but we both fell into step behind Joe and Daisy. She’d been right: The line was crowded with our classmates from Bayport High. Some smiled and waved at Daisy as we passed, or called out their congratulations. But as we walked by one sullen-looking group of boys, a dark-haired kid stepped out and blocked Daisy’s path.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, giving the four of us a not-very-friendly once-over. “What have we here? The kings and queens of Funspot?”

  As Joe shot her a questioning glance, Daisy frowned at the kid. “Let us by, Luke.”

  He didn’t move, but met her gaze without a smile. “Is this your new boyfriend?” He scowled at Joe.

  Joe stepped forward, holding
out his hand. “Hey, man . . .”

  But Daisy just shook her head. “What do you care?” she asked, looking from the boy to his chuckling friends in line. “Joe, Frank, this is my ex-boyfriend, Luke.”

  “Emphasis on ex,” Penelope piped up, stepping forward to give Luke a withering stare.

  Luke glared at Penelope for a moment, but her words seemed to wound him, and he quickly looked down before stepping aside. Daisy hesitated for a moment, then turned around and walked briskly past. Penelope followed, her head held high, and Joe and I began to follow.

  “Hey!” Luke called after us when we were a few feet away, and Daisy was almost at the ride. “Congrats on the turnout tonight!”

  Daisy paused, turning slowly to look back at him.

  Luke’s expression turned to an ugly smirk. “Guess you can go to college after all!” he shouted, loud enough for the crowd to hear. His group of friends erupted into loud chuckles. Daisy cringed.

  Joe was furious. I could tell he was upset on Daisy’s behalf and would have loved to teach him a lesson. But instead he pulled out his phone. “Smile,” he said to Luke, snapping a picture.

  Luke was taken aback. “What did you do that for?” he demanded angrily.

  Joe just smiled. “When we go to security and tell them a group is being rowdy and disruptive, this way they’ll know who to look for.”

  Luke glared at Joe. I had to smile. I seriously doubted Joe had any intention of going to security—but the look on Luke’s face made it clear he didn’t know that.

  Joe touched Daisy’s arm. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the ride.

  Daisy looked like she wasn’t sure what to do. Penelope shot Luke another icy look, then moved toward Daisy. “Let’s go, Daze,” she said, pushing her forward. “He’s such a jerk.”

  After a moment, Daisy moved on, and the three of us followed close behind.

  At the head of the line, an older, gruff-looking guy with ruddy skin and dark hair and beard stood behind a narrow metal gate. He looked at Daisy and nodded. “Miss.” Without another word, he opened the gate, and the four of us walked through.