The Demolition Mission

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “We’re on our way,” Frank said excitedly. Frank got in and started the powerful V-8 engine, and its growl vibrated smoothly throughout the car. Callie sat in the passenger side.

  “The sun is setting, so use your remote to lock the PEST system for night driving,” Felix Stock told Frank.

  Frank flicked on the locking switch. Then, shifting into first gear, he eased out the clutch.

  “This car is incredible,” Callie said in an awed tone as the Saurion shot forward through the speedway gate.

  “When Joe drove the prototype yesterday,” Frank said as they cruised down the road, “he said it was almost impossible to drive it slowly,”

  “He was on a racetrack,” Callie reminded Frank. “But we’re on Shore Road.”

  “This thing is great!” Frank exclaimed. “Here, let me pull over, and you can drive it on into town.”

  “If you insist,” Callie said with an eager grin.

  Knowing the handling was responsive to the touch, Frank turned the wheel a notch. He wanted to stop and watch the sunset from high above Barmet Bay, to their left.

  Suddenly Callie gasped. “Everything’s getting black!”

  Frank saw that Callie was right. Only a moment before, he’d had a clear view of the pull-off. But the windshield was darkening rapidly. He could make out the faint light of a buoy far out in the bay, but that was all.

  “Brace yourself!” Frank told Callie as he slammed on the brakes.

  The driver’s side front wheel hit one of the stout wooden posts supporting the low guardrail along the rim of the cliff. Frank twisted the wheel back toward the road. He couldn’t see the guardrail through the darkened windshield, but he could feel the front of the Saurion rise up along the rail.

  Callie screamed when she heard metal rip into the underside of the car.

  Frank knew by the feel of the steering that the front end was off the ground. He continued to try steering the car, but he couldn’t see a thing out the blackened windshield. He felt as if he were driving with his eyes closed.

  “Frank!” Callie yelled. “Stop us before we go over the cliff!”

  12 Breaking and Entering

  * * *

  Frank acted quickly. Grasping the emergency brake, he wrenched it up sharply. He and Callie were thrown violently forward against their seat belts, but the emergency brake held. Frank felt the engine stall, and the Saurion stopped.

  “You okay?” Frank asked breathlessly.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “Just scared.”

  Frank tried unsuccessfully to open the driver’s side door. Through the narrow crack he could see Barmet Bay a hundred feet straight down. “We’ve got to crawl out your side,” Frank told Callie. “My door’s right up against the guardrail.”

  As Frank followed Callie out of the car, he glanced at Shore Road and saw a white panel truck pass slowly by. When the driver saw Frank looking at him, he sped on past.

  “We were being followed,” Frank said. “It looked like the truck that attacked Chet’s jeep. And the driver was wearing a racing helmet that hid his face.”

  Chet and Joe pulled up in Stock’s sedan. “What happened this time?” Chet called from the sedan. He peered out at the Saurion.

  Frank explained about the PEST system malfunctioning and then asked, “Did you see a white panel truck in front of you?”

  “No, it must have been too far ahead,” Joe said.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if Tarpley was driving,” Frank said. “I noticed that when we asked Dain if we could use one of the speedway’s trucks, he mentioned a white panel truck.”

  Chet spoke up. “That means Dain’s definitely mixed up in this.”

  “But what would he have to gain from sabotaging the Saurion?” Joe asked.

  “Someone definitely sabotaged it,” Callie pointed out, “or else Stock’s high-tech window system is a joke.”

  “We’ll look into it tomorrow,” Frank said.

  “What about the Saurion?” Callie asked. “We can’t just leave it parked out here.”

  “We’d better push it away from the cliff,” Joe said.

  When the car was a safe distance away from the cliff, Frank reached across the passenger seat and found the remote on the floor under the brake pedal. He pressed the Start button, and the engine roared to life.

  “Sounds good,” Joe said. “But you can’t drive it with the windows blacked out.”

  Switching the PEST lock to the On mode, Frank operated the adjustment button. “It’s working now,” he said as the glass areas lighted up.

  “How could the system just fix itself like that?” Chet asked, puzzled.

  “Good question,” Frank said thoughtfully. “But there are a lot of questions that need answering before I’ll believe this was a technical glitch.”

  He and Callie got back into the Saurion. Callie drove to her house. After saying good night, Frank and Joe took the Saurion, and Chet went home in the sedan.

  • • •

  The next morning Frank and Joe got up before Aunt Gertrude, grabbed some juice and toast, and headed out of the house.

  After looking over the gray Saurion in the early morning light, Joe decided that aside from several scrapes, the car had been only moderately damaged in the near disaster at the cliffs. He took the wheel and backed the car out of the garage.

  “People will start arriving at the speedway around eight,” Frank said as they roared off. “That gives us an hour and a half to turn up something.”

  Ten minutes later Joe pulled in to the main parking lot outside the speedway fence. He parked the Saurion behind a group of dumpsters in the corner of the lot. Then Frank led them along the twelve-foot-high chain-link fence until they reached a fairly secluded area hidden by trees and bushes. Frank gave Joe a boost in scaling the fence, then followed him over the top.

  “The offices look empty,” Frank said as they approached the concrete building. Except for a gold car, the small parking lot was vacant, and he could see no lights in the office windows.

  Joe used an old parking garage key card to trip the latch on the speedway office. “You take Dain’s office, I’ll check Kiser’s.”

  When Frank reached Dain’s office, he found it was unlocked. Dain’s desktop was bare, and hurriedly Frank went through the drawers. In the bottom drawer, under some quarterly reports, he found a remote-control device. Next to it was a box used to ship an automobile radar detector. Except for a circuit board, the box was empty. Frank studied the items and put them back.

  Looking toward the far wall, Frank saw a bookcase. Most of the books were about accounting and auto racing, but two books, however, caught his eye. One was a book on electronic miniaturization. The other, called Applications of Industrial Demolition, was about explosives.

  “Look at this!” Joe exclaimed as he entered Dain’s office. He handed Frank a power card. Frank saw that it was smaller than the model he had found in Building C, but otherwise it looked the same.

  “Kiser’s got a closet full of remote-control stuff,” Joe added.

  Then Frank showed Joe the remote-control device and the book on explosives.

  “What do you make of it?” Joe asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Frank admitted. “Let’s take a look in Dain’s closet,” Frank suggested, walking over to the closet door. When he found it was locked, he used Joe’s key card to open it. Looking into the closet, he found jackets and racing suits hanging on the coatrack.

  “From what you said about Kiser’s office, he’s the one with the remote-control car hobby,” Frank said, “but we’re finding evidence in here linking Dain as well.”

  “Shh,” Joe said suddenly. He heard the front door open, then close again. Somebody had just entered the lobby.

  Frank slipped noiselessly behind a four-drawer file on the other side of the closet, and Joe hurried into the closet, switching off the light and easing the door closed.

  Rubber-soled shoes, Frank thought when he was unable to hear footsteps.
Then he heard the door of Dain’s office open. Someone pulled out one of the desk drawers and rummaged around.

  Joe desperately wanted to get a look at the person. He reached out to open the door a crack. At that moment the closet door swung open.

  Joe flattened himself against the back of the closet behind the racing suits. He was afraid that his rapidly pounding heart would give him away. He heard the sound of wire hangers on the rod.

  Cautiously Joe peeked through the suits. The person suddenly stepped away and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  Joe bent over, picked up a piece of material that had fallen on the closet floor, and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he stayed frozen in place for a moment. “Let’s wait a minute to be sure,” Joe called softly, stepping out of the closet.

  “That was close,” Frank whispered as he slipped out from behind the file cabinets.

  “But worth it, I think,” Joe said excitedly. “I saw—”

  “What did you see?” came a new voice from a dark corner of the room.

  Frank stiffened as the fluorescent lights came on. Too late, he realized that two people had entered the speedway office, and only one had left.

  Now the Hardys found themselves face to face with Marvin Tarpley.

  “What are you doing here?” Tarpley demanded.

  “What are we doing here?” Frank echoed. “We can ask you the same thing.” Frank saw that Tarpley was holding a tire iron.

  “All I’ve got to do is pick up the phone, and you clowns will be arrested for breaking and entering,” Tarpley said, tapping the tire iron against the palm of his hand.

  “And you think the police will give you a medal?” Joe said. “Don’t you think they might wonder what you were doing, going through closets and desks?”

  Frank moved a step to one side.

  “No, you don’t!” Tarpley snapped at him. Nobody’s going anywhere.”

  Joe braced himself for action as Tarpley charged at Frank. Caught between the file cabinet and Tarpley, Frank was trapped. Joe looked on in horror as Tarpley raised the tire iron high over his shoulder, then started to swing.

  Frank bobbed, but the tire iron hit him on the shoulder. Frank gasped in pain, staggered, then started to slump to the floor.

  As Tarpley raised the tire iron over his shoulder again, Joe lunged across the room in a flying tackle. He hit Tarpley in the legs, and they both crashed to the floor. But before he did, Tarpley threw the tire iron directly at Frank’s head.

  Tarpley was quick, but Joe knew that his brother was quicker and would be able to judge Tarpley’s throw to a fraction of an inch.

  Frank sprang backward, neatly sidestepping the attack. The lethal tire iron missed him by at least a foot.

  Tarpley struggled to free himself from Joe’s grasp, but the younger Hardy now had the man pinned in a full nelson hold.

  “Good work,” Frank said, grinning at his brother. He looked down at Tarpley. “The police will want to question you about the kidnapping and assault of Callie Shaw.”

  “Yeah, right,” Tarpley said with a scowl. “You can’t prove anything.”

  “Get up,” Joe said, releasing the mechanic, who got to his feet.

  “I’m outta here,” Tarpley said, starting for the door.

  Frank blocked the office door. “The only place you’re going is prison,” he said in a determined tone.

  Tarpley sneered. “What is this? A citizen’s arrest?”

  “Joe,” Frank said, “call Detective Riley.”

  “Don’t be hasty now,” Tarpley said, reaching for the phone. “I just don’t like people messing in my business.”

  “It’s our business when you kidnap my girlfriend and endanger her life, or when someone runs us off the road,” Frank said, hoping Tarpley would confess that he was responsible for the incidents. “And Joe could have been killed in that warehouse when the shelves were pushed onto him.”

  “I did that stuff just to scare you off,” Tarpley insisted. “Nobody got hurt. And I was just told to send a few warnings, that’s all.”

  “Who are you working with?” Joe asked. “Curt Kiser or Jason Dain—or someone else?”

  Tarpley stared sullenly at the floor.

  “What were you doing at Miyagi Motors yesterday?” Frank demanded. “Were you offering to sell them the stolen circuitry diagrams to the PEST system?”

  Frank watched Tarpley closely. The man’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not talking,” Tarpley growled.

  “You want to go to prison for the entire scheme?” Frank asked.

  “Why did you steal the Saurion?” Joe asked.

  “You’ll find out,” Tarpley snapped. “But you aren’t sending me to any prison.” With a suddenness that caught Frank and Joe off-guard, Tarpley grabbed a swivel chair and threw it into Frank’s legs. Frank fell forward onto the chair, and Tarpley then shoved the chair and Frank away. Seeing that the path to the door was free, Tarpley bolted out of the office and down the hallway.

  “Hurry!” Frank cried, rushing out the door. “Tarpley’s getting away!”

  13 The Missing Driver

  * * *

  Frank pulled open the glass door that led outside the building and ran down the steps. Joe was right behind him.

  “There he is!” Frank exclaimed, pointing to Tarpley, who was running toward a white panel truck parked in the lot.

  “Someone else is in the truck, too,” Joe called.

  Marvin Tarpley jumped behind the wheel of the truck. He had the engine started in seconds. In the lead, Frank sprinted across the parking area. Tarpley accelerated, and dust and gravel flew up from the truck’s drive wheels.

  “The front gate’s closed,” Joe called as he caught up with his brother. “He’s trapped.”

  When Tarpley didn’t slow down and didn’t even hit the brakes, Joe expected a collision. Instead, the gate swung open on its own.

  “The gate’s on remote control,” Frank said as the truck bounced out onto the road. “That explains how he got in here in the first place,” Frank added as the gate swung closed. “He’ll be long gone by the time we get to the Saurion.”

  “I think I know who the other person in Dain’s office was,” Joe said. He pulled the piece of material out of his pocket.

  “It’s a red silk scarf,” Frank said. “Katie Bratton’s scarf.”

  Joe nodded. “That was probably Katie in the truck with Tarpley.”

  “That means Felix Stock’s trusted driver is plotting against him,” Frank said.

  “Then we can’t let Katie drive in the race,” Joe said.

  “Maybe she never had any intention of driving,” Frank said thoughtfully, “if she’s been sabotaging the car. In any case, we’ve got to warn Stock, and when the office opens, we need to talk to Curt Kiser and Jason Dain. I’d be very surprised if Tarpley is the brains behind this plot. Knowing what we do now, it could be Katie Bratton.”

  “She did lie to us about Takeo Ota not wanting the race,” Joe said. Pointing to the speedway golf cart in the lot beside the office, he added, “Since it’s so far around the track, let’s borrow the golf cart.”

  “Good idea,” Frank said. “We can return the Saurion when the gate opens.”

  Using the track as a shortcut, Frank accelerated onto the straightaway. He drove the cart up to Building A and braked to a stop outside the open overhead door. A distraught-looking Felix Stock hurried outside to meet the Hardys.

  “Have you seen Katie?” Stock asked. “I think something’s happened to her. She was supposed to meet me here over an hour ago.”

  “When was the last time you talked to Katie?” Frank asked Stock.

  “Last night,” the engineer told him. “She helped me with the prototype until maybe midnight. Then she went home to get some rest. But she said she’d be here around six.”

  “Where is home?” Joe wanted to know.

  “She’s got an apartment on Mowrye Street. Her number is in the file in my office.”


  While Joe headed for Stock’s office to put through a call to Katie Bratton’s apartment, Frank pumped Stock for information.

  “What does Katie stand to make if she wins this race?” Frank asked.

  “I promised she’d receive a share of the Saurion’s profits,” Stock replied.

  “Did you and Katie talk about any specific amount?” Frank asked.

  “Not really,” Stock said. “The truth is, I had a crush on Katie. When we started working together on the Saurion, I hoped things might work out.”

  “You’ve changed your mind?” Frank asked.

  Stock sighed deeply. “When I told Katie how I felt about her, she said she had a lot of years of auto racing ahead of her before she could give any thought to settling down.”

  “But she still didn’t ask for a contract?” Frank asked.

  “Come to think of it, she brought it up a couple of times,” Stock admitted. “I told her we’d have my lawyer work something out.”

  “But you said you and Kiser have a contract,” Frank said. “Could I see it?”

  “If I can find it,” Stock said, leading him into his small, cluttered office. He started rummaging around through the papers on his messy desk. “It’s not here,” he said finally. “I’ll have to get it for you later. I’ve got too much to do right now.”

  “Katie doesn’t answer,” Joe announced. He hung up the phone.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stock,” Frank said gently, “but Joe and I don’t think Katie Bratton ever planned to drive the Saurion today. We think she’s in cahoots with Marvin Tarpley.”

  Felix Stock sat down dejectedly in his battered office chair. “What are you talking about?” he asked, a blank expression on his face.

  Joe picked up the story. “Tarpley was snooping around Jason Dain’s office earlier this morning, and we think Katie was with him.”

  “Do you have any idea what she might have been looking for in Dain’s office?” Frank asked.

  Felix Stock frowned. “No, not at all. I trust Katie, though.”

  “I think we’d better call Con Riley,” Frank said, reaching for the phone.