The Genius Thieves

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "Now what?" said Frank.

  "Hang tight, we may have lost him." They crawled to the ridge and looked over it. There was no sign of Dwight "We lost him, all right," said Frank. "But he can't be left alone. Come on."

  They hopped back onto the main road. Frank went through the campus gate and looked around while Joe scanned the nearby woods. After a few minutes they met by the side of the road.

  "Nothing," said Joe.

  "Let's just hope he's in the woods somewhere, sleeping it off."

  At that moment a distant clang of metal rang through the air. Frank and Joe looked around.

  "The water tower!" Joe said, pointing in the distance.

  Frank looked up. High above them, Dwight was climbing the spiral metal stairs of the Kirkland water tower, dragging the ax behind him.

  "He's going to kill himself!" Frank said, and he and Joe ran through the woods toward the tower. They hopped the fence that surrounded it and started climbing the metal stairs, two at a time.

  From above them, a stifled scream rang out.

  "Don't do anything, Dwight!" Joe called up. "We're here to help you!"

  Frank and Joe reached the top of the stairs, a hundred feet above Kirkland, where there was a narrow, curved walkway around the entire water tank. Frank motioned for Joe to go to the left while he went right. Dwight was looking over the railing to the ground below, crying. Lying by his feet was the ax.

  "It's okay, Dwight," said Frank, walking slowly toward Dwight with an outstretched hand. The sound of Frank's voice seemed to startle Dwight. He let out a yelp and picked up the ax.

  "Stay 'way—back," he mumbled, his eyes flashing with insane anger. Then he lunged toward Frank, swinging the ax.

  Frank ducked away. The ax clanked loudly against the side of the water tank. This made Dwight become even more furious. He took small steps toward Frank, hacking repeatedly with the ax. He turned and saw Joe behind him. Dwight was now like a caged wild animal trying to escape his captors. The brothers felt helpless against his rage.

  "Listen to me," Frank said. "Your name is Dwight Trilby. You're a student at Chartwell Academy in Kirkland. We are your friends. Can you repeat after me?"

  Dwight staggered backward. "Tril — Tril — "

  "That's it!" cried Joe. "Trilby!"

  "Tril — byyyeeeaaahhhh!" At the sound of his own name, Dwight let out a hair-raising scream and turned on Joe.

  There was no place to hide. As Dwight swung the ax, Joe grabbed his arm. The two of them struggled, each throwing the other off balance. Frank rushed over to help, but he couldn't pull Dwight away.

  Thinking quickly, Joe stomped on Dwight's foot. Dwight howled and loosened his grip. Joe grabbed the ax from his hand. But Dwight reacted with twice as much fury. He clutched Joe's arm to try to get the ax back.

  Joe tried to pull himself loose, but Dwight pushed his arm downward, toward the floor near the water tank. Joe wouldn't let go of the ax.

  Then, with a sudden, violent jerk, Dwight swung Joe's arm back up the other way. As Frank's eyes widened in shock, Joe went flying over the railing.

  Chapter 15

  "DWIGHT! NO!" FRANK shouted. But it was too late. Joe twisted desperately as he flipped into the air, still holding the ax.

  The blade caught and hooked around a metal post that connected the railing to the walkway floor as Joe was falling. Amazingly the ax held, and Joe swung under the walkway, dangling from the ax handle.

  Dwight saw this and grunted in anger. With his foot, he tried to unhook the ax blade from the post.

  "Get him away, Frank!" yelled Joe.

  Frank threw himself at Dwight. The two of them tumbled to the floor. The entire walkway shook as they wrestled.

  Fighting Dwight was like fighting an octopus. His arms and legs flailed in unexpected ways.

  I've got to get a grip on him, Frank thought. He swung himself around behind Dwight and tried to grab his neck. Dwight was caught unawares, but his elbow sailed up and landed a square hit on Frank's nose.

  Next Frank went for Dwight's arms. He grabbed them tightly and tried to pin them down. But his grip loosened as Dwight kneed him in the stomach.

  Meanwhile, behind Dwight, Frank could see Joe climbing slowly up the ax handle. He had just grabbed onto the post. If Frank could distract Dwight long enough, Joe would be back up on the walkway in a minute.

  Frank leaped to his feet and assumed a wrestling position. "Come on, big guy, I dare you," he challenged. Dwight swung his fist wildly and Frank ducked. The force of Dwight's swing spun him around—just in time to see Joe lifting his leg onto the walkway.

  "Nyyyyaaaaahhhhh!" Dwight cried as he ran toward Joe. He swept his foot across the walkway and kicked Joe's leg. Joe fell again, but this time he was hanging on to the railing.

  The ax was still wedged between the railing and the floor. Dwight reached down and picked it up. He took aim at Joe's fingers and drew it back.

  Thud! Just as Dwight was about to bring the ax down on Joe's hands, he crumpled to the walkway floor — Frank's karate blow had met its mark. The ax clattered to the metal floor beside Dwight.

  Frank picked it up and sent it flying down into the trees below.

  "Hang on, Joe!" Frank said.

  "That's all I can do!" Joe replied through gritted teeth. His arms were beginning to weaken.

  Frank hopped over Dwight and rushed to Joe. He grabbed Joe's arms below the wrists and pulled him up onto the walkway.

  "Thanks, partner, you came through again," Joe said, massaging his arms. "Although I may have to buy shirts with longer sleeves from now on — "

  "Feel strong enough to get Dwight back to campus?" Frank asked.

  Joe gave him a weary look. "Let's go!"

  Each took one end of Dwight and they walked clumsily down the spiral stairs, grunting under the strain.

  "Not exactly petite, is he?" said Joe.

  By the time they got to Chartwell's front gate, Dwight was upright and staggering. He had one arm around each Hardy.

  "So — so — I jus' attacked you? Like—for n - n - no reason?" Dwight mumbled, slurring his words.

  "Dwight, you were under the influence of whatever that masked guy sprayed in your face," Frank explained. He and Joe told Dwight what happened as they walked him to his room. They knocked on his door several times, until a sleepy roommate opened up.

  "Yeah? Who is it?" He rubbed his eyes and saw Dwight, draped around Frank and Joe. "Oh, no, not another fight." He pulled Dwight inside, obviously used to his coming home in that condition.

  As the door closed, the brothers looked at each other. "To the scene of the crime?" Joe asked. Frank nodded.

  They went out of the dorm and ran to the administration building. The door was just as they had left it. They entered the building and then climbed the stairs to the third floor. The door to the admissions office was open and the computer was still on.

  "I'll look around for clues to the masked man's identity," said Joe.

  "Okay," Frank said. "I'll cover up traces of our being here." He picked up the papers that Dwight had knocked onto the floor earlier. Then he went over to the computer. He saw the lit-up modem beside it.

  "Maybe the masked man is an admissions official," he said to Joe.

  "Could be. Can you dig up the personnel files on the computer?" Joe suggested.

  "I'll try." Frank went over to the computer and looked at the screen. Columns of meaningless numbers shone back at him. He poised his fingers over the keys — But just then, some of the numbers on the screen started to change.

  "Joe! Look at this!" Frank said urgently. Joe rushed over to watch as a customer's ten-thousand-dollar account instantly dropped to five thousand dollars.

  "They're stealing money right now!" Joe said. One by one, accounts began to decrease before their eyes.

  "It's as if they're in a hurry to take as much as possible."

  "As if they'd been discovered!"

  "Joe, I just realized something! If they're doing thi
s now, their phone line is open — "

  "And we can trace the call from the van!"

  Frank and Joe raced down the stairs and out to their van.

  Frank took out the phone tracer and inserted the first three digits—555. All the Chartwell numbers began with that exchange.

  Now to check which lines were busy. With a little luck only a couple would be engaged.

  They couldn't be that lucky — only one number in the whole school was busy. 555-2301.

  Frank shouted, "We've got it!"

  "Terrific," said Joe, with a deadpan look. "So what do we do now? Call the number and ask their names?"

  "No, we go back into the admissions office and look for a directory of school numbers."

  Once safely inside, Frank's fingers flew over the computer keyboard. In seconds the screen glowed with two columns of numbers. On the left was a list of phone numbers, all beginning with 555. To the right of each number was a room number. Frank pressed the Page Down button repeatedly.

  "Let's see — one - four - oh - oh — one - seven - oh - oh. Ah! Here we are — two - three - oh - one!"

  Frank and Joe memorized the room number on the right-hand side: Ives C-42.

  Just then the quiet was broken by the whoosh of a silenced gunshot. A flash of light cut through the room and chips of plaster fell from the ceiling. Frank and Joe hit the floor and scrambled out the door as another shot rang out.

  "We can't leave through the front door with a sniper out there! We're sitting ducks!" Joe said as they raced down the hallway.

  "There's one chance," Frank said. "Arnie once told me there is a system of tunnels connecting the buildings here. Let's hope I can find them now. And let's hope the gunman doesn't know about them, too! Come on — there must be an entrance in the basement."

  They flew down the stairs to the basement. Before them stretched a long, dark, concrete tunnel. "Let's go!" shouted Frank.

  The sound of their breathing echoed off the walls of the tunnel as they ran. Their feet splashed through puddles where water pipes had been slowly leaking.

  At the end of the straight path, the tunnel forked. They went to the right and found that this tunnel was much smaller than the previous one. They had to crouch to avoid the pipes and cables that jutted down from the ceiling.

  They stopped for a second to catch their breath and were aware of a sound behind them. Frank signaled for Joe to remain motionless. They heard running footsteps grow louder and louder. The sound came to an abrupt stop as the person reached the fork. After a moment the footsteps started again, but became softer and more distant.

  "He went left!" whispered Joe. "Quick, let's find an exit!"

  They followed the tunnel as it snaked around and then straightened off to the left. At the end of a long passageway was an exit sign. They ran toward it at full speed.

  Next to the sign, a ladder led up to a metal trapdoor. Joe climbed up and pushed the door open, and Frank followed right behind. They closed the door behind them and saw that they were beneath the stands near the football field.

  "We did it! Now let's get back to Mansfield!" Frank said.

  But he spoke too soon. A bullet whizzed by them and ricocheted off a nearby pole. Frank and Joe took off at full speed. Obviously, their pursuer knew the tunnels better than they did.

  Ten feet away was the athletic building. They ran behind it as another bullet knocked away a chunk of brick from the wall.

  The Hardys kept running, and before long they were near Van Cott Hall. Light was streaming from the windows of the dorm's common room, and they could hear the faint beat of a rock song.

  Frank and Joe ducked into the late-night party that was in celebration of no school the next day. There was a crowd of students there, dancing and singing to the music. By one of the walls was a long table with a bowl of punch and paper cups. Joe went over to get himself a cup and Frank followed, surveying the party.

  In the middle of it all was Arnie, gyrating wildly and clumsily, his glasses on the verge of flying off his face. Brad was in a corner, talking smoothly with a girl. He caught a glimpse of Frank and slyly shot him a wink.

  "Want some?" Joe asked Frank, holding a ladle full of punch.

  Frank looked at the bowl. The thought of drink-ing citrus punch at a time like this turned his stomach. He looked back over the crowd. A couple of students he knew from his classes were there, as well as some teachers, including Mr. Osborn. Then Mr. Castigan walked through the open door and joined Mr. Osborn. Frank thought of trying to talk to him, but quickly decided it would be best not to draw attention to himself and Joe.

  But Mr. Castigan noticed Frank and waved. Joe disappeared into the crowd to avoid being seen by him. Castigan smiled and clapped Frank on the shoulder, which surprised Frank since they hadn't parted as the best of friends. "You should try dancing!" he said with a wink. "It's better exercise than a basketball game!"

  All Frank could think was that Castigan had decided to believe his story about the exam. Eventually Castigan moved on and Frank found Joe hiding behind a clump of people.

  "Let's go," said Frank. "It's not safe for you in here. If Castigan catches you on campus, he'll kick us both out!"

  Joe quickly grabbed another cup of punch, and the brothers slipped outside. They looked left and right and saw no one. "I think we're safe, now," said Frank. "Let's get over to your room and figure out what to do next," Joe suggested.

  "Fine. It'll be empty for a while, and I think we should call Dad."

  They went around the back of Van Cott Hall, taking a shortcut to Mansfield. As they rounded the brick wall that enclosed the garbage area, they broke into a run—and came face-to-face with the muzzle of a pistol!

  Chapter 16

  JOE'S LIGHTNING-QUICK reflexes took over. Without thinking, he flung his cup at the masked man. Citrus punch flew between the eye slits of his ski mask.

  "Arrgghhh!" the man cried, temporarily blinded. As he drew his hands to his face, Frank and Joe took off.

  Halfway across the courtyard, Frank stopped short. "Wait a minute, Joe," he said.

  "What are you doing?" Joe demanded. "Let's get to Mansfield before this guy makes Swiss cheese out of us!"

  "No. Come here!" Frank pulled his brother into the middle of the courtyard, toward the statue of George Howe Chartwell. They ducked behind the pedestal of the statue just as the masked man came out behind the back of Van Cott Hall.

  In the darkness Frank and Joe could only see his silhouette, but they could tell that he was looking for them. They couldn't tell who he was when he took off his ski mask and trotted off toward Mansfield Hall.

  "Just as I thought," said Frank. "He knows where I live. We can't go back there now. Who knows? He may even have a key!"

  "You've got a point," Joe said. "But what's our next step?"

  "Follow me." Frank led Joe back into Van Cott Hall. The party was just then starting to break up. Dozens of students milled around in the dorm's large front foyer. Frank and Joe plunged into the crowd.

  "How can you think of partying at a time like this?" asked Joe, baffled.

  "Just stay with me," Frank answered. "This is perfect; the foyer is too crowded for the guard to pay attention to us."

  Frank kept an eye on the guard as more and more students filed into the foyer from the party. Then, as soon as the guard turned his back to talk to someone, Frank and Joe darted up the stairs toward the rooms.

  "This is a girls' dorm," explained Frank. "They don't allow male visitors this late. That's why we had to sneak."

  "Hmm, I suppose you're used to this sort of thing by now," said Joe slyly as they walked down the second-floor hallway. Frank gave Joe a playful slap on the head and walked up to room 21.

  He rapped softly on the door. There was no answer. Then he knocked a little louder.

  "Who is it?" called a voice from inside.

  "It's me, Sarah — Frank."

  Sarah opened the door with a look of astonishment on her face. "How did you get up here?"
she asked. Then she saw Joe. "Who's he?"

  "Sarah, this is my brother, Joe." He grinned. "Don't mind the blond roots."

  Joe turned red as he shook Sarah's hand, embarrassed. "It's supposed to wash out," he mumbled.

  "Come on in," Sarah said, with concern in her voice. "My roommates are still at the dance. I was just doing some homework. Is something wrong?"

  "It's a long story!" said Frank. "Can we use your phone?"

  "Of course. You're not in danger, are you, Frank?"

  "If you consider being chased by an armed wacko through the campus 'danger,' yes!" said Joe.

  Sarah looked fearful as Frank made his call. "Hello, Dad? You've got to get over here, I think we've got the computer thieves—in action! It's Ives Hall, room C-forty-two. Got it? ... As soon as you can get here—with police! We're heading over there right now! 'Bye!"

  "Can you be on call in case we need you for anything, Sarah?" Frank asked. "We're on the brink of breaking this!"

  "You know you can," she answered. "But why don't you wait till your father gets here?"

  "Too long," said Joe. "The thieves may be done by that time. We should only need him for the clean-up."

  With that, Frank and Joe ran down the stairs, sneaked back into the foyer crowd, and walked out the front door.

  They looked all around the courtyard. There were no suspicious shadows. They tiptoed around to the back of Van Cott. No one was there.

  Then, as fast as they could, they ran past Mansfield to its neighboring dorm, Ives Hall.

  Ives was spooky looking, with tall, gabled roofs and narrow windows. Its deep red brick had become almost black with age, and there was a creaky wooden porch along the front of the building.

  "This looks like a haunted house," said Joe. "And what are we going to tell this guard?"

  "This is a boys' dorm," said Frank. "Just nod your head at the guard and look like you know where you're going!"

  They both did just that, and the guard woke up from a catnap to nod back. They went up the stairs to the fourth floor.

  "You'd think one of these buildings would have an elevator," Joe grumbled.