Cutting through the tents, they soon got in front of the man and stepped out simultaneously from either side. The man jumped back as the brothers popped out in front of him.
“Robert Frid,” Joe said, recognizing the man by the light of the distant campfire. “What are you doing lurking around?”
“You almost scared me to death!” Frid said, clutching his chest theatrically. He was wearing a navy blue shirt and pants but no ski mask. His right pocket, though, bulged with an unseen object.
“What do you have in your pocket?” Frank asked.
Frid frowned at the older Hardy. “Popcorn. Not that it’s any of your business. What are you guys doing skulking around?”
“Just a little security patrol,” Joe said. “We found someone tampering with the bikes—and you’re the only person we saw near the bike rack.”
“I went to the vending machines,” Frid said. He pulled a small bag of prepackaged popcorn out of his pocket and shook it at Joe. “See? Popcorn. Who appointed you two cops?”
Before the brothers could answer, Maggie Collins and Quentin Curtis arrived. “Hey, Bob,” Quentin said, “did you get lost or something?”
“These guys are hassling me,” Frid said. “They think I was messing with the bikes. Tell ’em I was with you before I went to get popcorn.”
“He left us only a couple of minutes ago,” Maggie Collins said.
“See?” Frid replied. “I didn’t have time to go messing with any bikes.”
Frank scratched his head. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Sorry for hassling you. C’mon, Joe.”
“Why don’t you guys get some rest?” Curtis said, his voice tinged with hostility. “You’ve already gotten into enough trouble for two races.”
Joe nearly turned back to confront Frid, but Frank stopped his younger brother. “Just ignore it,” Frank whispered. “Let’s hit the showers and go to bed.”
“Showers?” Joe said as they kept walking. “I don’t know. I feel as though dirt is all that’s holding my bruises together.”
“I know what you mean,” Frank said. “We also need to talk to Bennett before we turn in.”
“It looks like another restless night.” Joe sighed.
On their way, the brothers searched for the wire cutters the saboteur had dropped but couldn’t find them.
“He must have doubled back and picked them up,” Frank said.
“Frid would have had time to do that,” Joe noted.
“Not that we could prove it,” Frank added.
Despite their lack of solid evidence, the Hardys found Bennett and told him about the possible sabotage. The race organizer promised to look into the incident and to post a guard around the equipment areas. After the conversation, the brothers hit the showers and retired for the night.
They woke fairly late, as the race had a start time just before ten A.M. After a quick breakfast with Chet and Jamal, all four of them went to recheck the Hardys bikes.
The bike area was crowded with competitors, all checking their equipment. The hired race teams, in bright yellow jump suits, worked side by side with their racers. Medics in blue uniforms with LMP logos carefully looked over the competitors’ scrapes and bruises. No one seemed very happy over the increased level of security and the extra work it entailed.
Bennett and a security crew moved among the racers, discreetly asking questions. The Hardys noticed that contrary to his usual routine, Bennett was staying far away from the TV cameras today.
While the Hardys worked, Frid, Collins, Curtis, and some of the other racers eyed the brothers suspiciously.
“Nothing like shooting the messenger,” Chet said.
“I don’t know,” Jamal said. “There haven’t really been a lot of accidents in this race—certainly no more than other adventure races I’ve seen. And I don’t see why anyone would blame Frank and Joe for anything anyway.”
“We were a little tough on Frid last night,” Frank confessed.
“Long days and frayed nerves got the better of us,” Joe added. “We need to stay out of the limelight from now on if we can.”
“That’ll be difficult if you’re going to win the race,” Jamal replied.
The Hardys and Chet laughed. The brothers and their friends looked the bikes over and then reviewed the condition of their other gear. Despite the incident the night before, they found no evidence of tampering with their equipment.
Joe shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Sabotaging the race seems pretty extreme. And why do it? Could anyone be that desperate to win this race?”
“The prize isn’t that big,” Frank agreed, “though the exposure could help a career—or a cause.”
“What other motive besides wanting to win could there be for sabotaging Speed Times Five?” Chet asked.
“I don’t know,” Jamal said. “But speaking of exposure, here comes Bennett.”
The rugged race organizer looked tired and somewhat rumpled this morning, as opposed to his usual media-ready self. “I want to thank you both for your help after the landslide and for reporting last night’s tampering to me,” he said. “You’re doing a good job—exactly the kind of racers we want in Speed Times Five.”
“Some of the other racers don’t seem to think so,” Chet said.
“Don’t worry about them,” Bennett replied. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ve beefed up security, but we couldn’t find any trace of the saboteur you said you saw. Neither the sponsors nor I want anything to go wrong with the race. Everyone’s going to be extra careful from now on.”
“We’ll keep our eyes peeled anyway,” Joe said.
Bennett nodded and smiled. “I appreciate that. You guys are first class. Good luck in today’s stage.” He left the group and went to speak to Collins and the other college students.
Today’s leg took the competitors on paved roads from St. Esprit to Montreal. Once there, the racers would stay in a hotel before completing the road race and then racing to the finish line in Sea-Zooms—one-person watercraft with high-powered engines that were like motorcycles on water.
Following the race’s rules, the teams had converted the bikes used in the cross-country stage for street competition. The bikes’ thick mountain tires had been switched to sleek thin ones. The handlebars had been replaced with curved racing grips as well.
The field of competitors had thinned again, both from people dropping out and from planned cutoffs for racers who didn’t meet time requirements at each stage. Staggered starts were again the rule of the day, but the open nature of the road race would make it somewhat easier for those in back to catch up with the leaders.
The Hardys found themselves in the middle of the pack, behind Clemenceau, Hawk, and Lupin, but ahead of the college students and Baldwin. The competitors could stop for rest breaks, but doing so too often would harm their chances. Most had water and food packets strapped to the frames of their bikes.
Media coverage was heavy this morning. The entire route would be through streets easily accessible to camera crews. Georges Clemenceau’s accident, the landslide, and other incidents had piqued the curiosity of the media. Bennett’s staff had a hard time keeping the news cameras out of the way of the race and production crew.
The race began as scheduled, shortly before ten. One side of the road had been blocked off for the race, and the competitors quickly left the campground behind and joined the open highway.
Kelly Hawk broke out early and caught up with Victoria Clemenceau and the lead group just as the Hardys hit the road. Despite the longer than normal rest, the brothers were still stiff from the previous stages of the race.
“I’m using muscles I didn’t even know I had,” Joe said as he and Frank rode side by side down the road.
“Just think how buff we’ll be when we get home,” Frank replied. He grabbed the water bottle from his bike frame and squirted a drink into his mouth.
The brothers pedaled as fast as they could while still maintaining a good pace for the w
hole distance they needed to cover. Soon they drew within striking distance of the lead group.
The pack behind the Hardys had been working hard, too. Some competitors had fallen off the pace, but Baldwin, Curtis, Frid, and Collins were closing in on the leaders as well.
The day wore on, and the smaller groups of racers consolidated into larger ones. By early afternoon the Hardys, Baldwin, and the college students had caught up with the pack containing Clemenceau, Hawk, and Lupin.
The buildings of Montreal rose up in the distance. With their goal in sight, the bikers pushed harder. Clemenceau made a break and moved toward the front of the racers. Lupin went with her, though he didn’t look nearly as fresh as the red-clad Canadian racer.
As Clemenceau broke away, the media chase cars followed in the right-hand lane. The camera trucks were careful not to interfere with the other racers. On the left, a sturdy mesh barrier separated the bicyclers from the normal flow of traffic on the road.
A small hill slowed the leaders down and brought them back toward the rest of the pack. The Hardys, Kelly Hawk, and several other racers pushed hard and gained on Lupin and Clemenceau.
Then something went wrong.
It was hard to tell who started it, but the pack in front of Joe and Frank suddenly veered into one another. Bikers brushed knees and shoulders; wheels and hubs collided.
For a moment it looked as if all of the leaders might go down.
Victoria Clemenceau broke out of the pack on the left-hand side, but she seemed to be tangled with Michael Lupin somehow. Her bike wobbled unsteadily—something seemed wrong with the wheels—and she fought to regain control.
Then her tires skidded out from under her and she toppled toward the mesh barrier and the speeding traffic beyond.
10 City Life
* * *
Frank and Joe streaked after Victoria as she skidded toward the barrier. As Clemenceau slowed down, Joe caught up with her on the right, while Frank sped in from behind.
Joe reached out with his left hand and grabbed the fabric of Victoria’s racing number. At the same time, Frank cut farther to the left, trying to put his bike between her and the oncoming traffic.
He partially succeeded, and Clemenceau’s back wheel brushed the front wheel of Frank’s bike. The momentary contact kept her from falling and caused her to veer back toward Joe.
“Look out!” she cried, but it was too late for all of them. Bikes and riders slammed into one another. Victoria came out the worst, skidding and falling behind the brothers. She hit the pavement hard, and her helmet bounced off the blacktop.
“Can’t control it!” Frank called as he went down, too. A moment later, Joe toppled as well.
The brothers skidded and spun but managed to control their falls better than Clemenceau. Neither one hit his head.
Dazed, the Hardys got up off the pavement as the other racers gave them a wide berth.
“Are you all right?” Joe asked.
“More bruises—a couple of scrapes,” Frank replied. “How’s Ms. Clemenceau?”
Victoria Clemenceau lay sprawled on the pavement, her bike a twisted mass beside her. She wasn’t moving.
Frank and Joe sprinted the short distance between them. Victoria was scraped and bloody, but she was breathing. The Hardys did what they could to administer first aid—immobilizing her head and neck and binding a few of her superficial wounds with bandages from her first-aid kit.
The paramedics arrived almost immediately, each in a powder blue LaTelle Medical & Pharmaceutical outfit. They took over ministering to Clemenceau and checked the Hardys’ injuries.
“We’re fine, really,” Frank said.
“We just want to get back into the race,” Joe added.
The lead paramedic nodded. “Well, okay,” she said. “If you think you’re up to it.”
“Hey,” Joe replied, “we didn’t come all this way just to drop out.”
“Well, thanks for the assist,” the paramedic said as the brothers returned to their bikes.
“The bikes are pretty banged up, but I think we can keep going—at least until tonight’s pit stop,” Joe said.
“Yeah,” Frank said, twisting his handlebars so they were aligned with his front wheel again. Joe’s chain had come untracked, but the two of them quickly got it back together.
By the time the last of the Speed Times Five stragglers passed the scene of the accident, the brothers were back in the race once more.
The accident seemed to have sobered the contestants, and many of the racers were being extra cautious. Still, the Hardys had lost a lot of time. This, and the damage to their bikes, kept them from catching up with the front of the pack.
As the sun set behind them, the brothers wheeled into Montreal. They’d passed a third of the racers, but were still a long way from the leaders.
Their overnight rest stop was at the Hotel d’Etienne, a refurbished building near the old Expo ’67 fairgrounds. Just after dusk the brothers checked in with the race officials outside the hotel. They then took their bikes into the underground parking facility, which had been appropriated by the Speed Times Five team.
“Good thing we’ve got our crew on this stop,” Joe said as they walked their battered bikes down the ramp into the garage.
“Yeah, the bikes will need a lot of work if we want to move up in the standings,” Frank said.
Near the parking level they ran into Michael Lupin heading the other way.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” Lupin said. “I thought you guys would have packed it in by now.”
“We’re gluttons for punishment,” Joe replied. He and Frank walked past Lupin without looking back.
“You could drop out, you know,” Lupin called after them. “No one expects you to win here.”
“We’ll see you at the finish line, Lupin,” Frank shot back.
As the brothers entered the underground facility, Chet and Jamal ran up to them.
“Was Lupin hassling you?” Chet asked.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Joe said. Many of the other racers and their support crews looked up as the brothers came in. Joe noted a flash of hostility in several pairs of eyes. “Is there some kind of trouble down here?” he asked.
Jamal shook his head. “Nothing to worry about,” he said.
“Some of the racers were wondering why you guys always seem to be nearby when trouble happens,” Chet added.
“I hope you set them straight,” Frank said.
“Sure,” Jamal replied. “We told them you guys are trouble magnets.” He smiled to show he was kidding and took Joe’s bike. “You have been kind of rough on the equipment, though.”
“No rougher than the equipment’s been on us,” Frank said, handing his bike to Chet.
“Well, don’t you two worry about anything,” Chet said. “Jamal and I will get the bikes back in shape for tomorrow’s leg. You head up to the hotel room and rest. We’ll take care of everything.”
“Does that include figuring out what the mystery is behind the troubles in this race?” Joe asked.
Chet grinned. “Nope. We’ll leave the heavy thinking to you Hardys.” He parked Frank’s bike in the area designated for their team and hauled out his tool and repair kit.
Jamal parked Joe’s bike and both he and Chet began to work. “Are you really sure,” Jamal asked as he adjusted Joe’s handlebars, “that something mysterious is going on here?”
“Well,” Joe replied, “we’ve had problems with a ski lift. Then my brakes were sabotaged. Someone nearly drowned in the river. Georges Clemenceau got KO’d on the hike. Frank and I nearly got buried by a landslide. And now Victoria Clemenceau almost takes a header into traffic.”
“Aside from Joe’s brakes, that guy at the bikes last night, and maybe Georges Clemenceau, it could all be coincidence and accidents,” Jamal said.
“The news reports say that Victoria’s bike had some broken spokes,” Chet added, “though that could have happened when she crashed.”
&nbs
p; “Or it could be what the saboteur was up to last night,” Joe said.
“Joe’s brakes, Georges’s ‘accident,’ and last night are enough to convince me that someone is messing with the race on purpose,” Frank said. “The race competitors seem the most likely suspects.”
“But who would want to win that badly?” Chet asked.
“Michael Lupin, Kelly Hawk, and Roger Baldwin could fit that bill,” Joe said. “They’re the most competitive racers in the pack.”
“During the river accident, Lupin shot right by,” Jamal noted. “Even Baldwin stopped to help on that one.”
“No one’s going to nominate Lupin for a humanitarian award, that’s for sure,” Joe said. “But that doesn’t prove he’s behind the trouble.”
“You heard Hawk’s crew talking about sabotage,” Chet said. “Her crew isn’t very sociable. Maybe they are up to something.”
“Hawk knows we heard them, though,” Frank said. “She and her crew would be stupid to try anything.”
“Maybe that’s why they’ve taken to wearing masks,” Jamal suggested. “Don’t worry about it now, though. Get some rest.”
Frank and Joe nodded and headed to the elevator. They had picked up their room assignment and keys when they’d checked in with the race officials, and it was only a short ride to their third-floor room.
“A bit cramped,” Frank said, eyeing the two beds, rollaway couch, and cot set up in the room.
“I guess we should have sprung for the deluxe accommodations,” Joe remarked, peering out the window leading onto the fire escape. “We’ve got a lovely view of an alley and the hotel’s service entrance, though.”
“Open the window, would you?” Frank asked. “I could use some air.”
“You’ve been sucking wind all day,” Joe said, grinning as he opened the window.
“I’m just tired of eating your dust,” Frank joked.
They both showered and changed and then collapsed onto their beds.
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