The Dangerous Transmission

by Franklin W. Dixon

Joe followed Frank’s gaze and saw what had rooted him to the model’s belt—the pewter clasp.

  Frank finally stood all the way up. “Well, our job is done here,” he said, smiling at Nick. “Sorry we can’t stay and help, but we’ve got other errands to run.”

  “Thanks for the raven, guys,” Nick said. “Tell Jax I’ll call him in the morning.”

  The Hardys walked back through the long building. Halfway to the entrance, Frank heard a familiar rhythm. “That’s it!” he said. “Listen!”

  “What? All I hear is some background noise. It sounds like chanting or a folksong—some singing group.”

  “Exactly,” Frank said, pointing to the speakers in the ceiling. “It must be background music to provide atmosphere when tourists go through this part of the exhibits. But it’s also the sound in the background of the ransom phone message!”

  The Hardys left the Waterloo Block and began the trek across the grounds to the main gate.

  “Man, that guy is so smooth,” Joe said. “He acts like nothing’s going on—like he’s totally innocent of everything.”

  “We already know he’s got contacts all over the world,” Frank added. “We have to get him before he puts Jax’s invention out on the black market.”

  “You’re sure he’s the thief?”

  “Well, he’s got the pearl dust in the exact same container as the one I found,” Frank said. “I’d have guessed they came from the Tower earlier, if part of the icon hadn’t been worn off the bottom of the one I found. The V is the beak of a bird.”

  “The Tower of London raven,” Joe guessed. “Of course. He probably uses that stuff to make fake pearl jewelry and decorations.”

  “That’s what I figure,” Frank agreed. “And now I can place that pewter leaf clasp. Jax says Nick is really strict about making the costumes authentic. The clasp is obviously an important part of that Scottish outfit.”

  “I’ll bet when we check the custom shoemakers on that list, we’ll find one who made a special pair of black cross-training shoes for Nick,” Joe said. “Do you suppose he’s really going to be at Signer’s Wharf tonight for the ransom money? Or is that just a hoax so that everyone will think it’s a toothnapping?”

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. “But we’ll be ready if he does show up.” They boarded the Tube and began devising a plan.

  It was eight o’clock when they got back to Jax’s flat. They found him in the kitchen, eating a big bowl of stew. He looked a lot better and seemed to be glad to see the Hardys.

  “Where have you guys been?” Jax asked, ladling stew into bowls for them.

  Quickly Frank and Joe told their friend their theory about Nick, and the evidence they had found. Jax didn’t seem as shocked as they had expected. “Nick’s a weird guy,” Jax told them. “This all makes sense. I don’t know why I didn’t see it myself.”

  “Do you feel like doing a little work?” Frank asked Jax after they’d finished eating.

  “If it means getting the Molar Mike back, you bet I do.”

  “Good,” Frank said. “Get that big, hairy brown rat I saw in the taxidermy shop, and let’s get started.”

  They spent the next three hours wiring the rat with a microreceiver like the one in the Molar Mike. Then they wrote a computer program to transmit to it. Finally they were ready. Jax packed his notebook computer and the rat into a large duffle bag. Then he put newspapers in a black leather briefcase and locked it.

  At eleven fifteen the Hardys and Jax took the Underground up to the canals and got off near Signer’s Wharf. The fog was thick and heavy. They could barely see a yard in front of their feet. There was no sound other than the hushed lapping of the water in the canal against the piers, and the eerie sounds of restless animals in the nearby London Zoo.

  Frank had insisted the three of them rehearse every move so they wouldn’t have to talk when they reached their destination. When they arrived at the wharf, they each went to work.

  Frank placed the briefcase exactly where the telephoned ransom message had demanded, behind the newspaper stand. He placed the rat close to the briefcase, and readily visible in the pale glow of an old light attached to the newsstand.

  As he moved along the bank to some large bushes, he heard little feet scampering away, and then small splashes as things plopped into the canal. He guessed that the sounds came from living relatives of the stuffed beast he had just placed nearby. Quietly he crouched behind the bushes among the scampering creatures.

  Joe helped Jax position himself in the shadow of a tree—although, the fog was so thick that no one near the newsstand could possibly see him anyway. Then Joe moved to a spot where he could see the newsstand and Jax and Frank could see him.

  They waited. As the minutes ticked away Frank could hear the creatures leaving the water and returning to join him. He steeled himself against the image that kept flashing through his mind: huge river rats sidling toward his feet.

  Finally he heard larger feet nearing the area. Definitely human, he thought. Through a tiny space between the twigs and leaves of the bush that shielded him, he saw a man walking toward the newsstand. At first he couldn’t see any of the man’s features. Then, as the man leaned over to pick up the briefcase, Frank caught the swing of a dark red ponytail.

  Frank looked at Joe, and they nodded at each other. Joe waited until the man’s hand was nearly on the briefcase handle, and then he signaled Jax.

  “Hey Nick, how’s it going?” The question vibrated through the fog.

  Nick jumped back and seemed to notice the rat standing nearby.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” The voice definitely came from the rat. Nick couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

  “You’ve already got the tooth,” the rat said. “Seems a little greedy to stick him for the money, too.”

  Nick stepped back another foot and whirled around. His face showed that he suddenly understood completely what was happening. He looked like he was choosing between fight or flight.

  Flight.

  Frank and Joe each popped up from their concealed vantage points and took off after Nick. Joe tackled him, and Frank wrestled Nick’s arms together, behind him. Nick fought like any good black belt would, but it was too late. The Hardys already had him down. Frank handcuffed him—wrists and ankles—with antique cuffs that had belonged to Jax’s dad.

  “You’re a real piece of work, Nick,” Jax said, joining them.

  Nick’s expression of defeat disappeared, and he grinned proudly. He struggled to sit up, and rested his arms on his bended knees. “Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

  “Where’s the Molar Mike?” Jax demanded.

  “You will never know, my friend,” Nick said, still grinning. “I’ll take it to my grave before I’ll tell you.”

  Jax lunged for Nick, but Joe pulled him back. “Did you call the police?” Joe asked Jax.

  “Yes,” Jax answered. “As soon as he began to run—like the rat he is.”

  “You might as well give it up,” Joe told Nick. “The police will frisk you when they get here.”

  “And they won’t find a thing,” Nick told them. “I never intended to give it back. The ransom money was going to help finance my getaway. Plus, I figured if I asked for a ransom, I’d scare you off from contacting the police, Jax.”

  “Did you set the fire?” Frank asked.

  “Yep. And it was such a pleasure. I didn’t want that stupid exhibit anyway. I tried to tell everyone that, but they overruled me. I planned it perfectly.”

  “But why set up Jax?” Joe asked. “Why plant the knife and the other stuff? What did that get you?”

  “That was an added stroke of genius on my part,” Nick answered. “I figured planting a little suspicion of Jax might just get him out of the way. Then I’d have room to get my hands on the Molar Mike. I’m going to set up a worldwide auction for that juicy little tooth. The highest bidder gets it, and I don’t care who it is.”

  “You were the one who knocked me down the stairs that night, weren
’t you?” Frank asked.

  “Indeed. You surprised me by being home so early. I thought the Tower guards would keep you engaged much longer.”

  “And you knocked me out last night when you stole the tooth and all the materials that go with it,” Jax said.

  “Right,” Nick said, nodding. “I’m always prepared to seize an opportunity. I enjoy being spontaneous. When Jax told me you were all at the Black Belt, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to finally get my hands on the tooth. And I was right. I’m sorry I had to smack you around, Jax, but you were definitely in the way.”

  “How did you find the safe?” Frank asked. “How did you know where it was?”

  “It took a while,” Nick said. “But I have astute powers of observation. I noticed a small tear in the carpet near the corner of the file cabinet. I took a chance—and there it was.”

  “Who makes your cross-trainers for you?” Joe asked.

  “Jax was right,” Nick said. “You two are clever detectives. Yes, it was I who kicked you onto the tracks. I didn’t think you’d ever guess that was me. After that buffoon Pierre Castenet made such a scene in the restaurant, I was sure you’d blame him. Apparently I made a mistake on that one.”

  “Oh, you’ve made a lot of mistakes,” Officer Somerset said. He and a couple of his colleagues walked up to them. “Thank you, gentlemen, for all your help. You’ve certainly been making my job easier the last few days.”

  Frank removed the antique cuffs, and Officer Somerset put official cuffs on Nick’s wrists. The culprit was thoroughly frisked, but the tooth was not found.

  “Don’t worry,” Officer Somerset said as Nick was being taken away. “We’ll make him talk. That is, of course, if it isn’t too late and the Molar Mike is already in the global marketplace.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Frank said. “He told us what he planned to do with it, and it sounded like he hadn’t done it yet. I might even know where the tooth is. Can you get us into the Tower of London?”

  “Right now?” the police officer asked.

  “Yes,” Jax pleaded. “If Frank thinks he knows where it is, I believe him.”

  “Yes—let’s go,” Joe said. “Jax, all you have to do is boot up the program for the Molar Mike and broadcast to it at full volume. We’ll hear the transmission and be able to zero in on the tooth.”

  “And we might not even have to do that,” Frank added mysteriously.

  Once again Officer Somerset sent his fellow officers off with a Hardy capture. Jax and Joe gathered up all the props they’d used to trap Nick, and all four of them left in Officer Somerset’s car.

  Once inside the Tower of London, Frank led his party and a Tower night guard to Nick’s space in the employees’ building. The guard opened the door to Nick’s chaotic workplace.

  “Nick has a major ego,” Frank reasoned. “He likes to brag about his skills and accomplishments. So I asked myself, if I were Nick, where would I put the most valuable tooth in the world?” He walked toward the table beneath the window.

  “In my own mouth, of course,” Joe said. “Frank, you’re a genius!”

  Frank went to the burlap-and-plaster model Nick had made of his own head. He pried open the mouth until it split at the corners of the lips. He showed the others a tooth at the back of the upper jaw that stuck out above the others. Jax sighed. It was the Molar Mike.

  “I’m sure we’ll find all the papers and other materials in here too,” Frank said, looking around at the messy room. It may take a week. . . .”

  “Mr. Brighton, we wouldn’t presume to touch this delicate invention,” Officer Somerset said, clearly impressed with the ingenious tooth. “We’ll allow you to take this wax head with you and extract the tooth in the appropriate environment—your medical clinic. When we need it for evidence, I’ll assume you will bring it to us.”

  Jax tried to lift the head, but it wouldn’t budge off the pedestal that held it—and the pedestal was bolted to the table.

  Joe remembered the moment he flew through the air and out onto the Underground tracks. “Allow me,” he said. He cradled Nick’s burlap head in the crook of his arm and, with one powerful twist, wrenched it off the pedestal and handed it to Jax.

  Frank grinned. “One final beheading at the Tower of London!”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Aladdin Paperbacks edition April 2004

  Copyright © 2004 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  The text of this book was set in New Caledonia.

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  Library of Congress Control Number 2003108867

  ISBN 0-689-86378-0

  ISBN 978-1-4391-1407-0 (ebook)