Speed Times Five

by Franklin W. Dixon

  He ripped off his helmet and threw it at Joe. Joe dodged but not fast enough. The helmet caught him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. He collapsed to his knees.

  Frank pressed his attack with another kick and a karate chop, but the man blocked them both.

  “Roger Baldwin!” Frank said.

  Baldwin snarled at the brothers and dropped the backpack so he could move better. “You should have made it easy on yourselves,” Baldwin said. “Now I’m gonna have to hurt you—permanently.” He kicked for Frank’s knee, but the older Hardy dodged out of the way.

  “Big talk for a washed-up former triathlete,” Joe said, rising to his feet once more.

  “I’ve still got plenty to take care of you two,” Baldwin replied. He threw a punch at Frank and then spun and kicked at Joe’s head.

  Joe blocked the kick and brought his elbow down hard on Baldwin’s knee.

  Baldwin grunted and spun away. Before he could recover, though, Frank came at him again.

  The older Hardy threw three quick jabs at Baldwin’s face and chest. The criminal easily blocked these, but he didn’t see Frank’s counterattack coming. As Baldwin warded off Frank’s punches, Frank dropped into a spin kick and swept the bandit’s legs out from under him.

  Baldwin toppled over backward. He tried to get back up, but Joe jumped forward and punched him in the face as he rose. The bandit grunted and fell back, barely conscious.

  “Not so tough without his friends, is he?” Joe said.

  “Joe, duck!” Frank cried. He pushed his brother out of the way as a spray of bullets rained down from above.

  Overhead, a two-person helicopter with the letters LMP stenciled on the tail hovered just above the trees. The pilot leaned out the side and sprayed a machine pistol toward the brothers.

  “Looks like Baldwin’s not out of friends yet,” Frank said as he and Joe dived for cover.

  The helicopter arced over the clearing, as if it might set down near Baldwin.

  “Must be Baldwin’s ride,” Joe said, taking cover behind a big tree as the pilot shot at him.

  Frank rolled to one side and scooped Baldwin’s helmet off the ground. He heaved it with all his might toward the chopper’s rear rotor. The helmet hit the small blades on the tail and ricocheted back into the main propeller.

  Something popped and the chopper began to spin crazily, smoke spewing from near the rotors. The pilot dropped his gun and wrestled with the steering column. The helicopter lurched up into the air and disappeared over the trees.

  Baldwin rose to his feet. “Come back!” he cried weakly. He staggered toward where his gun had fallen.

  Joe rushed forward and punched Baldwin across the jaw. Baldwin collapsed in a heap, unconscious. Through the trees, the brothers saw the helicopter crash into the chilly waters of Lake Champlain.

  Joe kneeled beside Baldwin and fished out the criminal’s cell phone.

  “Good thing Baldwin had this,” Joe said, dialing 911, “or it might have been a while before he and his friend got medical attention.”

  Frank chuckled.

  • • •

  By nightfall the police had locked up the criminals and delivered the brothers to the finish line of the Speed Times Five Adventure Race. Chet and Jamal were relieved to see their friends, even though Frank and Joe had called their crew right after phoning the authorities.

  Vince Bennett also seemed glad to see the Hardys.

  “Great job, guys,” he said. “Without you, the race might have turned into a disaster.” The race organizer threw his burly arms across the Hardys’ shoulders. “Now, if you’ll just step this way, the media are waiting.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Joe said.

  “We told you earlier, we’re not much for publicity,” Frank added.

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “We’re not the real story here. The press should be talking to the cops—and whoever won the race. Um . . . who did win the race?”

  “Kelly Hawk,” Jamal said.

  “You should have seen it,” Chet said. “She and Lupin were neck and neck right up until the finish line.”

  “It was a great finish,” Bennett agreed. “Best ever in one of my races.”

  “I guess this means she’ll be getting all the publicity she needs for her cause,” Frank said.

  “Sure,” Bennett said. “The media are on it already. UAN is talking about doing a special report about her tribe and their concerns.”

  “Great,” Joe said. “We wouldn’t want to take any attention away from that.”

  Bennett looked a bit crestfallen. “Are you sure? There’s a great story here. It could be a feather in your caps if you want to be real detectives one day.”

  “No thanks,” Frank said, chuckling. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

  “Well, okay,” Bennett said. “You’re always welcome in any race I run, though. I’ll even waive the fees.”

  “Thanks,” the brothers said simultaneously.

  “How did you figure the saboteur was Baldwin?” Jamal asked.

  “The saboteur outraced us twice,” Frank said. “Once in the woods near St. Esprit and again in Montreal. You have to be in good shape to do that.”

  “That meant that whoever was causing the trouble was a trained athlete—probably one of the top competitors,” Joe said.

  “The thing about sabotage,” Frank said, “is that you don’t have to actually do it many times. After a couple of incidents, people start to get paranoid and see sabotage everywhere. Baldwin gummed up the chairlift mechanism, messed with Joe’s brakes and Victoria’s spokes, and clobbered Georges Clemenceau in the woods.”

  “He arranged his own accident as well,” Joe added, “both to cover his tracks and so he could slip away for the payoff. But the other problems were purely bad luck. Landslides, bike problems, kayak accidents . . . all just coincidence—though Baldwin couldn’t have done better if he’d planned them himself.”

  “Races always have some accidents,” Bennett said.

  “Baldwin might have made more mischief at St. Esprit, if we hadn’t interrupted him,” Frank concluded. “I’m sure he was constantly checking on Collins, Frid, and Curtis, as well as trying to see where they had the meds stashed.”

  “He’d need to know that to protect the goods during the race,” Jamal added.

  “I still can’t believe that those three were in on this scheme,” Chet said.

  “They were and they weren’t,” Joe replied. “They knew they were smuggling something, but they didn’t actually know what it was. They thought it was just some harmless prescriptions—not a stolen prototype medicine.”

  Frank nodded. “I wondered why Baldwin helped Maggie Collins on the river, then never stopped to help any other racers who got in trouble,” he said. “When we discovered she was part of a smuggling ring, it all became clear.”

  “Baldwin didn’t know whether she had the meds in her boat that day,” Joe said. “He had to help her, because he couldn’t take the chance that she’d go down with the loot.”

  “Baldwin stuck pretty close to the three of them all during the race,” Frank said. “That was his job, to keep an eye on the ‘couriers’ and then to take the goods away from them when the time came. The only time Baldwin moved ahead of the students was on the last day—when he needed the extra time to set up his boating ‘accident.’”

  “After that he hooked up with Jacques and Pierre—who were planted as part of the medical crew by Baldwin’s boss, Philippe LaTelle,” Joe said.

  “The pharmaceutical manufacturer who supplied the EMTs for the race?” Bennett asked.

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “We saw his limo near the hotel in Montreal. It was only much later that I realized the license plate I saw part of could have been LMP001—the kind of vanity plate suitable for the head of LaTelle Medical and Pharmaceutical. He’d arranged to have the meds stolen from a competitor, then set up the smuggling scheme. He was also the pilot of the helicopter that came to pick up
Baldwin.”

  “If you want something done right, do it yourself,” Jamal commented.

  “With his skill and conditioning, Baldwin could have done a lot better in the race if he’d really been trying,” Joe said.

  “So he was never really interested in the race,” Chet said.

  “The money probably wasn’t worth his time,” Joe replied. “Smuggling stolen experimental pharmaceuticals probably paid much better.”

  “Or it would have,” Jamal said, “if he’d gotten away with it.”

  “Which he didn’t, thanks to you two,” Bennett put in. “Why’d Baldwin and his boss try to cut those kids out, though?”

  “Why take the chance that Collins, Curtis, and Frid might be discovered by customs officials at the end of the race?” Frank said.

  “Plus, by stealing the goods from them, Baldwin and LaTelle wouldn’t have to pay Curtis and the rest,” Joe added. “Why pay for a botched smuggling assignment?”

  “If you guys hadn’t been there, it might have worked,” Jamal said.

  “If we hadn’t heard the reports about the break-in and theft on the radio,” Frank said, “we might never have tumbled to the real scheme.”

  “Good thing we paid attention to the news,” Joe said. “Even if we didn’t remember the news stories right away.”

  “Speaking of work,” Bennett said. “I’ve got to get back to my job. And—Oh! I nearly forgot.” He dug into one of the many pockets on his khaki vest and pulled out some papers. “I spoke to the race sponsors. They wanted to reward you all for what you’ve done. So, here are four weeklong passes to the Fire Creek Mountain Resort, all expenses paid. Use ’em at your leisure. You may not have won the race, but you did something just as important.”

  “Thanks,” said Joe and Frank.

  “Great!” Chet said, his eyes lighting up. “That means we’ve all got a free vacation whenever we want it!”

  Joe and Frank rubbed their many bruises and glanced at each other. After six days of competition, they were beat.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Joe said, “but Frank and I could use that vacation right now.”