"We're trapped?" Joe asked. He pounded a fist on the door and yelled, "If you can hear us, open up! Help! There are people in here!" "That won't do any good," Frank said, opening another film can. "No one could hear us. Meanwhile, there might be enough oxygen in here to last till morning. We can't take the chance, and I want to be at Bates's party tonight."
"I don't see that we have any choice," Callie said. "We're stuck here."
"No, we're not," Frank said, opening a third can. "Start going through these and tear off any excess film you can find. Leader footage, projector markers, that kind of thing."
"Great," said Joe. "At least we can stay busy while we're trapped."
"Have some faith," Frank replied. "This place is climate-controlled. I bet they wouldn't like a fire here."
Callie blanched. "I don't like the sound of this, Frank."
"It's simple," he said, tearing off a strip of film. "We burn the film scraps in a can top. There's got to be a fire alarm in a place like this. The fire alarm goes off, someone comes to put out the fire, and we get out."
"Yeah, simple," Joe said, dubious. "I guess it's worth a try."
For several minutes they went through the cans, breaking off whatever blank film they could find, until they had a can filled. "Only one problem," Joe said. "How do we start the fire?"
Frank grinned and turned to Callie. "Nail file."
Callie dug into her purse and brought out a small metal file. Quickly, Frank worked on the screws on the light switch next to the door, until the switch plate came free from the wall. He pulled the wiring from the switch and touched two wires together in the film can. The film burst into flames.
"I don't hear any alarm," Joe said.
Moments later Callie noticed a strange sensation. She realized the air in the room was rushing upward. "Frank! It feels like a vacuum cleaner's loose in here." Then she knew. "There's no alarm. They have a built-in vacuum that puts out fires by drawing all the oxygen out of the vault."
She gagged. "I can't breathe."
Callie sprawled against a shelf, and the Hardys collapsed against her.
This is it, Joe thought as he rolled over on the floor. I never thought it would end this way.
The struggle to breathe was so hard they didn't hear the door quietly click, and didn't realize it had opened until they felt the welcome rash of warm, fresh air. Greedily, they gulped oxygen until they were able to talk again.
"What happened?" Joe asked as they crawled out into the spacious, empty lab. The fire in the vault had gone out completely.
"It must be one of those fail-safe systems," said Frank. "In case anyone was trapped in there during a fire, they'd be able to get out as soon as the danger was over."
"I don't care how we got out," Callie said. "I'm just glad we did."
"You feel like doing some shopping?" Frank asked her.
"Shopping?" Joe and Callie said together, astonished.
"To get some nice clothes," Frank said. "We have a party to go to."
Bel Air lay north of UCLA and west of Beverly Hills. Among the wealthy in Los Angeles, it was the place to have a home. To enter Bel Air, cars had to pass through gates.
Stuart Bates's house was a mansion, a sprawling three stories high with more than two dozen rooms. To one side of the house was a swimming pool and tennis court, and to the other side a smaller pool.
The whole estate was nestled in woods at the north end of one of the canyon roads and was surrounded on three sides by a man-made stream that looked like a moat. It was a home fit for a king of Hollywood, and Stuart Bates, as head of Meteoric Studios, could certainly lay claim to the crown.
Only one bridge led over the stream. And at the entrance to the bridge a man built like a moose checked invitations. No one would get into the Bates party uninvited. Callie and the Hardys were dropped off by a cab and walked down the road, awed by the line of limousines waiting to get onto the grounds. Frank wore a tuxedo, and Callie had on a deep purple strapless evening dress with a gold sash ; around the waist. Joe was more casually dressed, in a tan suit and a tie.
"This is hopeless," Callie said finally. "If we walk up, they'll know something's wrong. We should have hired a limo." Frank was thinking. "You're on your own," he told Joe. Then he took Callie by the arm and walked up to a waiting limousine.
"I say." Frank put on a slight British accent as the passengers in the car rolled down their window. "We've had a spot of trouble. Our limo broke down half a mile back, and it's such bad form to enter on foot. Might we ... ?" He trailed off, flashing the men inside the car his friendliest smile.
"Sure," one of them said, and opened the car door. Frank and Callie climbed in. "I saw you in a film last winter, didn't I?"
Frank lowered his eyes modestly. "I did star in a couple of teen flicks," he lied. "But tonight I'm traveling incognito, if you know what I mean."
The others laughed and winked at Callie. Joe ducked among the trees as the cars slowly rolled by, and looked for an opening. He had to get past Bates's security, but how? He studied the passing cars, keeping an eye out for an unlatched trunk or an open door. Nothing. If I'm going to do it, he decided, I'll have to do it by myself.
Sticking to the trees that lined the drive, he walked along the line of cars up to the moat. Then he turned to the right and followed the moat, still protected by the dense forest.
Joe's hunch was right. The moat didn't go all the way around the estate. Bates probably assumed that the thicket of woods would discourage most people from trying to get in that way. But no woods were thick enough to keep Joe Hardy out. Neither was the fence that just appeared in front of him.
Whistling casually, Joe easily topped the fence and strolled through the trees and onto Bates's estate.
He had taken five steps, when a low growl sounded to his left. Before he could react, there was another growl to his right. He came to a full stop, trying not even to breathe.
Two huge Dobermans came bounding toward him, their growls becoming lower and more menacing. Joe had seen dogs like this before, killers trained to attack the slightest movement. Their strong jaws could tear a grown man apart in seconds. And they were the Bates estate's last line of defense. Joe knew that one twitch, one sign of weakness, and the Dobermans would be on him.
The two dogs tensed, baring long razor-sharp teeth, waiting for Joe to make a move, any move.
Chapter 16
JOE CLOSED HIS EYES and tried to figure the distance to the woods behind him. If he could reach the trees before the dogs got him, he could climb to safety, out of their reach. But the growling grew more ominous. Joe knew he'd never make it in time. His muscles were starting to feel the strain of remaining rigid. He wondered how hard it was to knock out a dog, and if he could take out one before the other reached him.
A whistle broke the silence. The dogs turned and streaked to a man who had suddenly appeared nearby. Joe couldn't remember being happier to see anyone in his life, although, like the moose checking invitations at the bridge, this man wore the crimson blazer of Bates's private security force.
The man fastened leashes to the dogs. They tugged at the leads and snapped at Joe, but the man held them safely back.
"What are you doing here?" the man demanded coldly.
"The party," Joe said. He waved vaguely toward the house. "Too noisy. I came out here for some air and quiet."
"Good reflexes," the man said with a hint of admiration. "You're lucky you're still alive. That's why Mr. Bates doesn't want his guests wandering the grounds. You must be new, or you'd know that."
"Yeah, this is my first party here," Joe replied, sounding contrite. "I'll know better next time." He began to walk away.
The man watched him suspiciously. "Hold it!" he said. "Let's see your invitation."
What now? Joe thought, and looked at the dogs. If he knocked out the security guard, the dogs would be free again, and this time he doubted that he'd survive. He decided to bluff it out. "I left it in the house. I didn't know yo
u needed it all the time."
"You don't know much, do you, buddy?'.' the guard said. "Let's go see your invite."
Closely followed by the man and the dogs, Joe started the long walk to the house.
***
Arm in arm, Frank and Callie entered Stuart Bates's home.
It was filled with hundreds of guests. Waiters in white jackets and gloves moved throughout the crowd, carrying trays of food and champagne. The floors were made of polished marble. Priceless paintings covered the walls.
"That looks like real gold leaf on those frames," Callie said to Frank as they stopped to admire the paintings.
Frank watched an actress go by. "That's — " he began, and then his eye was caught by a passing talk-show host. "And that's — "
Callie nudged him nervously. "Don't gawk. We have to act like we fit in, or our cover will be blown." A man brushed past her, and she turned toward him and gasped. He stood almost seven feet tall, with muscles that strained the seams of his dinner jacket.
"Oh, gosh," she said breathlessly. "That's that famous bodybuilder. What's his name? I've got to get his autograph."
Frank took her by the arm and dragged her into the next room. It was a library, lined floor to ceiling with books. There were fewer people in there, and they spoke quietly among themselves, paying no attention to Frank and Callie. "It's hard to keep from being awed, isn't it?" he asked Callie. "I guess everyone who's anyone in this town is here."
"Bates is a powerful man in the entertainment industry, that's for sure," Callie said. There was a round of applause in the other room, and a tall, ; handsome, smiling man stepped into view. "Uh - oh. There's Bates."
"This way," Frank said, and took her hand. A glass door led from the library onto a terrace at the back of the house, where dance music throbbed. Frank and Callie danced their way through the crowd until they came to another door, and quietly slipped into the kitchen, where chefs and waiters were scrambling to fill trays with appetizers.
Before they were seen, they darted out into the hall. A stairway led up to the second floor, but it had been roped off at the bottom. "Come on," Frank hissed, unfastening the velvet rope. "I want to know why the second floor's off limits." Quickly, Callie followed him up the stairs.
One by one they tried the doors along the main corridor. "Everything's empty," Callie exclaimed. "There's not a stick of furniture in any of these rooms."
"I guess he doesn't use them if he lives here alone," said Frank. "But where's his bedroom?"
As they passed a marble stairway that led downstairs, a security guard unfastened the rope blocking it off and started up.
Frank and Callie ducked into an empty room. Keeping the door open a crack, they watched the guard go by. Then they slid off their shoes and slipped soundlessly out after him.
The guard walked to the end of the hall and up a set of stairs to the third floor. He swung open two brass-handled doors and disappeared into a room. Stepping into the room across the hall, Frank and Callie listened as the guard left the room and closed the door. His footsteps echoed down the hall and then down the stairs. When there was no more sound, Frank peeked into the hall.
"No sign of anyone. Let's check out that room."
After they stole through the brass-handled doors, Callie's jaw dropped.
The room was huge. A king-size bed with oak posts and silk covers was centered on one wall. Around the room she saw a projection television with a videodisc player and several videocassette recorders, a full stereo, a wet bar, and an exercise area complete with bodybuilding equipment. At one end another door led into an extravagant bathroom.
"There's a hot tub in here!" Callie said. "And it's filled with bubbly steaming water." On a shelf at the edge of the tub was a cordless telephone. Callie imagined Bates sitting in the tub, using the phone to make multi-million-dollar deals.
"The man who has everything," Frank said.
He took the photograph they had gotten from Patch out of his pocket. "I need the tape now."
Callie took the videocassette from her purse and handed it to him. He laid the photo and the cassette on top of Bates's pillow.
"That ought to shake him up," Frank said with a chuckle.
"Frank, come here," Callie cried. While he had been baiting the trap, she looked at Bates's closets. As Frank faced her, she pulled out a carefully folded patrolman's outfit from the far corner behind rows of expensive suits.
"Ah - ha," Frank said. "Just what we were looking for."
"There are running shoes in back too." Callie picked them up, then brushed off her hands. "They're covered with sand."
"It wouldn't hold up as evidence in front of a jury," Frank said, "but it convinces me. Bates is our man all right."
Footsteps reverberated on the floor outside. "Someone's coming. Hide!" Callie said, and shut herself in the closet.
"Not in the closet!" Frank whispered urgently. "They might look there."
She came out as the footsteps neared. "Where?"
Frank looked around frantically. There was nowhere to hide. "Under the bed," he ordered. She dropped to the floor and disappeared.
The door began to open.
Quickly, Frank dived across the room, sliding into the bathroom. He closed the door just as Bates and a guard came into the bedroom.
Through the door Frank heard Bates and the guard talk animatedly. He made out words about time and a phone call. Suddenly they stopped.
After an electrified silence Bates said, "Someone's been here. Search the place."
The voices were headed for the bathroom. Frank had scant seconds before he'd be caught. There was only one thing to do.
The guard opened the bathroom door and looked around. "No one here," he said, and left, shutting the door.
Frank rose up out of the hot tub, dripping wet. He took a towel from a nearby rack and began to quietly dry himself. The water ran silently down his back and legs and onto the marble floor. He'd have to mop up.
The phone rang.
Cautiously, Frank moved closer to the bathroom door and listened until the ringing stopped and Bates's voice was heard again. Then Frank gently lifted the cordless phone from its cradle and put it to his ear.
A gruff-voiced man was on the line, arguing with Bates. "No more excuses, Stuart," the voice was saying. "You double-crossed me once. You're not going to trick me with the bank, again."
Frank held his breath, glued to the phone. The gruff-voiced caller must be Patch!
Fascinated, Frank listened while the two argued over who had betrayed whom. The entire picture of the robbery unfolded for Frank.
Apparently, Bates and Moran — Patch—had thought that the highway patrol had identified Moran as he fled. Bates talked Moran into helping him knock off a buddy with a firebomb and switching dental records so the body would be identified as Moran. They placed a few carefully charred bills from the robbery on the vagrant's body to fool the police into thinking they'd found one of the thieves. Moran, believed dead, was free. But before Moran realized what was happening, Bates had vanished, taking all the money.
"Too bad I ran across your picture in the paper," Patch said angrily. "Too bad for you."
"All right. What now?" Bates asked brusquely.
"We meet again. In a crowded place. Tomorrow. And this time I take the whole two million." Patch paused for emphasis. "I have a videotape now. I'll send it to the police."
As Frank listened, his nose began to itch. He rubbed it, but the itching wouldn't stop.
Suddenly Frank sneezed.
All talking on the phone stopped. The bathroom door flew open. The guard stood there, gun in hand, and waved Frank into the bedroom.
"You!" Bates said, his face mottled red with fury. All trace of the urbane executive was gone from him now. "Take him out back," he told the guard. "Way back. And do what you have to."
As the guard yanked Frank's arms tighter behind him, making him cry out in pain, Callie continued to lie silently under the bed. She didn't dare
move, aware that all she could do now was listen.
"No, there's no problem," Bates snapped into the phone. "Everything's under control. Where do we meet, and when?" Callie tried to make out the answer, but she knew it was hopeless. The voice on the other end of the line was inaudible to her. "Fine. I'll be there," Bates said. There was the click of the phone being hung up.
"Well?" she heard Bates ask the guard. "What are you waiting for? Get him out of here."
She twisted for a better view, propping up the edge of the bedspread so she could see out from under it. Three sets of feet were in view, one set tapping impatiently. Someone came around the bed in wet stocking feet. Frank, she realized. Like her, he had never put his shoes back on. She gripped her high heels and waited for the next pair of feet to pass.
When a shoe came into view, she stuck out one of her high heels, catching the guard's ankle and tripping him. He cried out in surprise as he fell.
Frank spun abruptly at the cry. Arm straight, he smashed the back of his hand into the guard's neck. The impact knocked the guard off his feet, but his finger tightened around the trigger of his gun. Frank smashed his elbow into the guard's chest.
The gun went off as the guard jerked from the impact of the blow. The bullet slammed into a bedpost. The guard lay silent, unconscious. Startled, Bates ducked into his closet.
"Get out from under there," Frank said, giving Callie a helping hand.
"What happened to Bates?" she whispered as she stood up.
Frank pointed to the closet for reply. They walked over to it and pulled open the doors. Bates waited there, hunched over, his back turned toward them. "Come on, Bates. It's over."
"It is," Bates agreed. Then he turned around and stood, hatred and victory in his eyes. In one hand he held the holster he had worn with the patrolman's uniform. In his other hand he held the gun. "It's over for you."
Chapter 17
"I've got to find my brother," Joe told the guard as they neared the mansion. "He's got our invitations." The guard motioned Joe on as he tied the dogs to a post. Then he caught up with him, and they approached the terrace from the 5 surrounding trees. Joe pointed to the dance floor. "Oh, look. There he is."
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