Edge of Destruction

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "Fair enough," said Jones. He gave Frank a card. "These are my numbers, at home and in the office. If I'm not there, use my answering machine. "

  "'Good luck down here," said Frank. "Good luck up there," said Jones.

  Twenty minutes later, after one of the underground men had guided the Hardy boys through a maze of sewers and abandoned steam pipes back to Grand Central Station, Joe asked Frank, "Well, what's the next step?"

  "The next step is to stop moving and start thinking," said Frank.

  "I should have known you'd come up with something like that." Joe grimaced. "But let's not take too long doing it, okay?"

  "We don't have too long," Frank reminded him. "But let's fuel up." He indicated a pizza stand in the station arcade. "We haven't had anything since breakfast, and it's way past dinnertime now."

  Joe and Frank got on with their discussion between mouthfuls of pizza topped with green peppers, onions, pepperoni, and extra cheese.

  "What we have to do is analyze this case," said Frank. He reached for the crushed red peppers. "What's the most mysterious thing about it?"

  Joe shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, everything.”

  "But what seems to make no sense at all?” Frank pursued.

  Joe considered. "The whole way this blackmail scheme was set up. Why did the crooks put the muscle on the police chief and not on the mayor? And why did they snatch an out-of-towner like Dad?"

  Frank nodded. "Just what I was thinking. There's hope for you yet." "Please. Don't overwhelm me with compliments while I'm eating," warned Joe lightly. He finished his slice and signaled to the counterman to heat up another. "Anyway, tell me what else you were thinking."

  "What Dad and Peterson have in common," said Frank, forgetting the half-eaten slice in his hand, "is that they used to work together years ago. Maybe this has something to do with that."

  "But what?" asked Joe? "And how can we find out? We can't go to Peterson. There's no telling what kind of surveillance they have him under."

  "Right. We can't alert them - or its goodbye Dad." Frank put down his pizza, his appetite gone. "And goodbye city."

  "So what do we do? Where do we go?"

  "As the saying goes, there's no place like home." Frank was already pulling out a train schedule from his pocket. "We're in luck. A train leaves in four minutes. We can just make it."

  "But my pizza!" Joe said, grabbing the slice and throwing down some money. Pizza in hand, he kept up with his brother and leaped aboard the train just as it was moving off.

  Just then, he figured out why they were going home. "I should have thought of it earlier," he said after they sat down in a nearly empty car. He took a bite of his pizza. It was still warm. "Dad's files. He has records of all his old cases, including some from when he was a cop."

  "It'll feel funny breaking into his private files, but I figure he'll understand," said Frank.

  But what'll we say to Mom and Aunt Gertrude?"

  "Nothing," said Frank. "They both should be asleep by the time we arrive. We'll sneak into the house, go to Dad's den, get the info we need, and head back to the city."

  "I have to hand it to you; you do have a knack for making plans." Joe licked his lips, wishing they made pizza slices bigger. "Of course, whether or not they work is a different story."

  This plan, though, had every indication of working perfectly. Their house was dark when they arrived. They let themselves in and moved through the rooms without making a sound.

  Frank silently swung open the door to the den. But then the silence was shattered, and the plan with it.

  "Freeze!" a snarling voice commanded. "Or you're as good as dead!"

  Chapter 9

  JOE AND FRANK stared at the two men who had invaded their house. One of them held a long barreled gun in his hand, and he was pointing at an attachment at the end of the barrel.

  "Know what this is, kids?" he asked. "A silencer," said Joe.

  "Smart," said the man. "Real good. I like bright kids. And if you're really smart, you won't make me show you how well this silencer works." "I'm really smart," said Joe. "And so is my brother."

  "Two smart kids. Good for you. Now to prove you're smart, show us how to unlock your dad's files and fast," he ordered. The man's tone indicated that he was serious. So did the gun in his hand, pointed directly at Frank's head.

  The partner drew a gun of his own and covered Joe. The boys' eyes met.

  "I'm not going to argue," said Frank. He went to the desk and took out a key to the steel cabinets that contained Fenton Hardy's files. He turned the key in the pickproof lock and opened one of the drawers. "Thanks for being so cooperative," said the first man. "Yeah, you're real good kids," said the second. "It's a shame we gotta do what we gotta do," said the first. "But orders are orders," said the second. "And we were told what we had to do if anyone spotted us during this breakin." "So long, kids," said the first as both men brought their guns into firing positions.

  "Hey, wait a minute," Frank said, acting terrified. "You're not going to-?" "Please! We're so young! Give us a break," said Joe. His voice was trembling. "We'll do anything you ask, anything," said Frank. "This can't be happening," said Joe. "It's a nightmare!"

  "Come on," said the first intruder. "I thought you kids would have a little more guts than this."

  "Yeah." The second man shook his head. "Kids today just don't have what it takes."

  "You kids get hold of yourselves," said the first man. "Stop shaking; stand up straight, die like men."

  "Please," begged Frank.

  "Don't," begged Joe.

  "Drop it, you two!" commanded a voice from the doorway. Laura Hardy, the boy's mother, was standing there with a gun in her hand.

  "Whoa!" said the first intruder, hastily dropping his gun. "Watch that thing, lady, it might go off!" "See, I'm dropping my gun too," said the second man. He let it fall from his hand.

  "I was starting to think you wouldn't get here," Frank said to his mom. "Good thing Dad had that alarm installed to go off in your bedroom if anyone got into his files without first shutting the system off."

  "Joe, gather up those guns on the floor and cover these two. Frank, get some clothesline from the storeroom."

  Soon the intruders were securely tied with gags in their mouths. "All right, Joe," said Mrs. Hardy, "we can put our guns down now and call the police to pick up this pair. Then, of course, you boys will explain to me what this is all about." She reached for the phone. "Gertrude told me you called and said you were staying in the city with your father." "Hold it, Mom. Better not call the cops," Frank said quickly.

  "Why not'?"

  "I didn't want to worry Aunt Gertrude, so there was something I didn't tell her."

  Laura Hardy's eyes bored straight into her son's. "And what exactly did you leave out, young man'?"

  "That Dad was asked by his old pal Peterson to help out on a case," said Frank. "He said we could tag long, just to find out what detective work was all about." "Is that so?"

  "Yeah, Then it turned out that Dad needed information from his files, so he sent us here to get it. But it seems as if the guy he's hunting had the same idea." "But I still don't understand why I shouldn't call the police." Laura Hardy was beginning to look confused. Frank paused. Then he said, "You tell her, Joe."

  Joe, his mind a blank, stared openmouthed at his brother. Fortunately, an ide'a came to him. "Dad doesn't want the crook to know how close he is to being caught,” Joe said, inventing quickly. "If these two are locked up, they'll call their lawyer, and their lawyer will alert their boss."

  "That's right," said Frank, flashing Joe a grin of gratitude. "So what you have to do is hold on to these two bozos for a day or so, before we send them off to jail."

  "Oh, come on, Frank - "

  "We wouldn't ask you to do it, Mom, but we know you've helped Dad on cases before. And he's told us you're as tough in the crunch as he is."

  Looking pleased, Laura Hardy nodded. "All right. I'll be glad to help out." Sh
e looked at the boys closely then. "Your father is all right, isn't he?" she asked.

  Joe felt himself clench inside for what he was about to say. "Sure, Mom," he said. "Dad's doing great."

  "Well, then," - Laura Hardy glared at the intruders. "I think it's best to put you two in the basement," she told them. "And I warn you, don't try anything. I might not like guns, but I do know how to use them."

  The intruders were meek as lambs as Joe and Frank untied their feet and led them downstairs, with their mother holding a gun on them.

  "If you two want to tell us who your boss is, we could tell the D.A. you were cooperative, and maybe your sentences could be made lighter." Laura Hardy's voice was brisk and professional.

  The first intruder, sweat beading his brow, indicated that he wanted his gag removed. "Look, lady, if I knew anything, I'd tell you. But our boss keeps his identity secret. And we've only been working for him a couple of months."

  "How did he get in touch with you, then?" Laura Hardy persisted. "No lying or you'll be sorry." .

  "Mac and I were fresh out of jail when a man called us and asked us to work for him," said the second crook after Joe removed his gag. "We receive orders by phone and get paid by mail. Honest. It's the truth."

  Laura Hardy raised her eyebrows. "I suppose I have to believe you. But if I find out you've been lying - "

  "Not us," said the first man.

  "No, ma'am," said the second. '

  "Oh dear," said a voice. "What's going on down there?" It was the boys' aunt Gertrude.

  "Don't worry, Gertrude," said Laura Hardy, helping the boys gag and bind the men. "It's just the boys.”

  "I knew I heard noises down there," said Gertrude.

  "They found a couple of strays," Laura Hardy said, repressing a smile. "We'll be keeping them in the basement until they go to the pound."

  "I hate strays," said Gertrude. "Don't expect me to go down there to feed them."

  "I expected that reaction," Laura Hardy said as she and the boys went up the stairs. "It'll make things easier."

  Joe rushed to the files and started working through them. "Dad said we should look in the stuff covering the time he was a New York City cop." He kept looking. "Hey, Frank," he said, "the files are arranged by year. Now all we have to do is search for the years when he was on the force."

  "Your father started on the force twenty-five years ago," said Mrs. Hardy. "He decided to go off on his own when you two were still toddlers about fifteen years ago, I think." "Thanks, Mom," Frank said. He pulled the files covering that time period out of the file cabinet. They formed a thick stack of papers and newspaper clippings. Fenton Hardy had been a very busy cop.

  "We'll need a couple of shopping bags for these," said Joe. "You're taking them all?” His mother looked surprised. "That's what Dad told us to do," said Frank. "Our job wasn't to ask questions." "Then I won't bother asking any either," said his mom. "I'll wait until he gets home."

  "We've got to get to bed, Mom, so we can go back to the city on the earliest train tomorrow morning.”

  "Okay. Well, sleep tight, boys. I think I'm ready to go back to bed too," she added with a yawn.

  What neither boy mentioned was that they would be up all night going over the files, paper by paper, clipping by clipping.

  Dawn was turning the New York City sky from purple to pink when the phone rang in Peter Jones's high-rise apartment.

  Groaning, he reached for the receiver, sleep still fogging his mind.

  But his thoughts became clear when he heard what Frank Hardy had to say.

  "Sorry to wake you, Peter, but I thought you'd want to know we've found out who our enemy is."

  Jones was suddenly awake and on his feet. "Hey!" he said. "That's great!"

  "Maybe," said Frank, his voice grim. "You'll have to decide that for yourself when you find out who we're up against."

  Chapter 10

  "THAT MAN'S A monster," Jones exclaimed as he looked at the photo on the yellowing newspaper clipping later that morning.

  "Just what I said when I got a look at him," agreed Joe.

  The man in the photo was tall and horrendously fat. Rolls of flab bulged over the starched collar of his shirt. Pig like eyes stared out at the camera. The handcuffs binding his wrists together clearly were cutting into his ample flesh.

  "Mob Chief Collared by Rookie Cops," the headline above the photo read.

  "Listen to the story," said Frank. He picked up another clipping. "This is from the inside of the same paper. It gives the details. Nick Trask was today taken into police custody by two first year patrolmen, Fenton Hardy and Samuel Peterson, as the result of evidence gathered in an investigation carried out on their own initiative over the past several months. The charges against the reputed mob boss include loan-sharking, extortion, kidnapping, drug dealing, and assault. Trask has refused all comment, but his lawyer, William Sawyer, has issued a statement expressing confidence that the charges against his client will be proven baseless."

  "That lawyer was wrong, though," said Joe, showing Jones more clippings from the same file. "Trask was convicted on enough counts to send him up for twenty-three years, and for their work, Peterson and Dad made it to detective grade in a couple of years."

  "Listen to this," said Frank, who read from another clipping. "After sentencing, Trask attempted to break free from his guards to attack the two policemen who had arrested him. Trask shouted a vow of revenge at the pair of patrolmen, saying he would get them no matter how long it took.”

  Jones looked at the dates of the clippings. "Twenty-four years ago. Trask must have been released last year-unless he got time off for good behavior."

  "He wasn't that lucky," said Frank. "The judge sentencing him said that no time off would be granted."

  Jones nodded. "It all seems to fit. Trask got out a year ago."

  "And now he's looking for revenge," said Frank. “And somehow in that year he's managed to recruit an army of crooks. I wonder where he got them all."

  "I can make a good guess," said Frank. "Each of the three we've pumped recently got out of prison. He must have gotten to know a lot of men in his years behind bars. All he had to do was set up a kind of employment agency for them when they got out. He'd have a huge pool of skilled labor."

  "But where did he get the dough to hire them?" wondered Joe.

  “A big-time hood like Trask probably had quite a stash hidden away," said Jones. "That might explain what he and his gang are doing underground. He could have held on to his money, but no way could he have hung on to his territory.

  His fellow mobsters must have taken over his turf, and there would be no way they'd give it back."

  "So he's using his supply of money and cheap labor to build a new crime empire," said Frank.

  “An underground empire this time so big that it's scary." He shook his head. "And crazy, too. He'll wipe out the city, just for starters."

  “We could just find out where he's operating from, where his headquarters are," said Joe.

  "We could really go for busting in on him and getting my dad back." "I have it!" said Frank.

  "Have what?" said Joe irritably. Frank could never resist coming out with a teaser before explaining one of his bright ideas.

  "I have thought of the place we can begin looking," said Frank. "The city has to have records, right? They probably even have a tie-in to federal prison records. In addition to Trask, I bet they'll have records of the others who were in with him and have since been released."

  "They do have," said Jones, nodding. "It's all in a central computer bank downtown." "If we could just get at it," said Frank. "There's a chance we can," said Jones eagerly.

  "I'm going to make a phone call." When he returned later, he said, "We're in luck. The underground knows where Lardner is. They're sending him right up."

  "Who's Lardner?" "He's a computer expert, one who set up a lot of the city systems. But he was let go, right in the middle of a high-tech slowdown, and he wound up where he
is now - in the underground." Jones glanced at his watch. "He should be here in a few minutes. That was the good news," he said.

  Joe and Frank had been sitting down, and by the look on Jones's face, they were glad they had some support under them.

  "The bad news," he went on, "is that Ian-you know, the old guy you found in the bed-he died."

  Joe let his head fall back onto the top of his chair. "He died?"

  "Yeah. Doc said that the bug the crooks used on him must have been a doozy."

  "Dad-" Frank mumbled woodenly. "What kind of condition could he be in then?"

  "Look," Jones said, "Ian was an old man, weak to begin with. Your dad's younger. He'll make it. You'll see."

  The boys weren't sure. But they knew that feeling sorry for themselves would get them exactly nowhere. .

  "Doc?" echoed Frank, coming out of his fog. "Doc who? Who's he?" Then he said, "No, don't tell me. Doc dropped out of his medical practice for some reason or other, then disappeared into the underground."

  His eyes twinkling, Jones nodded. "You're beginning to get an idea of how many different kinds of people live down there. There are a lot of ways to fail in the city. But there aren't many places to go if you do."

  A little while later the door buzzer sounded. "I hope this is the help we need," said Frank as Jones told the doorman to let the caller in. A couple of minutes later a small man dressed in faded blue jeans walked into the apartment.

  After the situation was explained to him, Lardner said, "Yeah, I designed the data bank myself. It has real easy access." "But how do we get to it?" asked Frank.

  "That's easy too," said Lardner. He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. "When I got canned, I took these as souvenirs. These are the sweethearts that'll let us into the building and then into the computer room." "What are we waiting for?" said Joe. "Let's go." "First we have to make a plan," said Frank.

  "Plan? What plan do we need?" asked Joe, his voice riddled with impatience. "Today's Sunday, in case you haven't noticed. Nobody will be working down there. We'll sneak in, get the information, and get out. A piece of cake." "Well, it's true we don't have much time," Frank said reluctantly. Then what are we waiting for?" said Joe eagerly. Jones cleared his throat. "I hope you kids don't mind, but I'm not going with you." Joe stopped in his tracks, surprised.