Highway Robbery

by Franklin W. Dixon

  ***

  At the sheriff's office, they met Matt's lawyer and Mike Simone. The boys were glad to see that Mike, who'd gotten out of the hospital the day before, looked a little better. There weren't so many bandages, and some of the swelling had gone down. He hugged Tony with his good arm.

  The lawyer was introduced as James Willis, a gray-haired man in a three-piece suit and gold-rimmed glasses. At Frank's request, he agreed to arrange a meeting for them with Matt while he and Mike worked to "clear up this unfortunate misunderstanding," as he put it.

  Willis was true to his word. Within fifteen minutes Frank, Joe, and Tony were sitting with Matt in an unused office. Quickly they filled Matt in on the latest hijacking attempt and the narrow escape they'd had.

  "You said you'd tell us what we needed to know as soon as we got back from this trip," Joe said. "Well, we're back."

  "Fair enough," Matt replied. "I agreed to answer your questions. So, ask away. I won't hold anything back this time."

  "Start with Lou Gerard," Frank suggested.

  "I always got along fine with the union people," Matt said, "until Gerard showed up in my office. He told me he was the local's new business manager. We made some small talk, and then all of a sudden he tells me that contract negotiations and grievance procedures would go a lot easier for me if I was to slip him some cash under the table now and then.

  "I lost my temper and kicked him out. But he started calling me up, demanding to meet with me and making threats about the future of my company if I didn't play ball. 'You have to go along to get along,' he said. "I said, 'No way.' "

  "You have any proof of this?" asked Frank.

  Matt shook his head. "He was too smart. He never talked about it unless he was sure there was nobody around, and he arranged our meetings in places where I couldn't tape our conversations."

  "Why not bring in the law?" Frank demanded.

  "With no proof?" Matt leaned forward. "Lombard Hauling is a small operation, Frank. We do all right, but we can't afford to shut down for long. So what happens if I blow the whistle on Gerard?"

  Matt leaned forward, speaking emphatically. "First off, he tells the law that I was the one offering him bribes in exchange for special favors. His word against mine, right? Then he has the power to call everyone off the job. But I have to keep the business going, and it doesn't matter whether I was right or wrong, the result is the same - we'd be shut down. So I didn't holler for the cops or the sheriff."

  "Maybe you should have," Joe suggested.

  "Well, maybe. But that was my choice. And once I made that choice, I had to play it out. That's the way I saw it - and still see it."

  "All right," said Joe. "Number two - what problem does Hal Brady have with you?"

  Matt shrugged. "You got me. I don't know."

  Frank leaned toward him. "Hey, you promised to level with us."

  "I am," Matt protested. "Brady and I were never buddies, but we didn't have any beefs, either. Then all of a sudden, a few months back, he just took a dislike to me, started giving me a lot of lip and griping about this and that - generally getting on my case. Well, I admit I have a temper, and I lost it sometimes. But why it all started, I don't know. You'd better ask him."

  "Did you get to see the notes that were found in Mickey's Vane's apartment?" Joe asked.

  "They showed them to me, yeah."

  "Did you recognize them?"

  "Recognize them?" Matt shook his head. "I recognized them as being my handwriting, sure. I'm always making notes on scratch paper like that. I don't know when or how I made those particular ones. But I can tell you one thing. I never gave them to Mickey Vane."

  Joe nodded, then asked, "Any explanation for how they got to be where they were found? And that Lombard company check, you signed that, too, didn't you?"

  " I never gave them to him. I never saw the man after I canned him a couple years ago. It wouldn't have been hard to steal blank checks from my desk. Vane got no checks I knew about after he drew his last pay."

  "Matt," said Joe, "do you think that Hal Brady could be the one responsible for passing information to the gang?"

  Matt thought for a moment. "He could be," he said, "if he knows anything about computers. We store everything on computers now, so he'd have to know how to retrieve the information."

  Everyone turned as James Willis entered the room and sat down. "We'll have you out of here soon," he told Matt. "That chief deputy is giving us some grief, but I've told him that if he isn't charging you, he can't hold you. And he hasn't got anything solid enough, just a lot of circumstantial nonsense."

  "Great." Matt managed a tired smile. He turned to Frank and Joe. "Anything else you need to know?"

  "I don't think so," Joe said. "Anything we can do for you?"

  "Well, yes, if you don't mind. If Felix is still at the office, tell him everything is going to be fine and have him call up my insurance man. If he's gone home for the night, then you call him. You can get his name and number off my desk. Here, take my office keys." He handed them to Joe.

  "Sure, no problem," Frank said. "Tony, want to come?"

  "No, that's okay," Tony said, "I'm going to drive Mike home. See you guys later."

  Joe and Frank shook hands with Matt and left. As they were driving the van back to Lombard, Frank said, "Maybe Dad has turned up something on Brady. He had the opportunity to leak information, and for whatever reason, it looks like he's mad enough at Matt to want to get at him."

  "If he can operate a computer, then he had the means of doing it, too," Joe added. "Motive, means, opportunity. If Hal checks out in all three, we've got ourselves a prime suspect."

  When they arrived at the Lombard office, it appeared to be dark and deserted. "Felix must have called it a night," Frank said.

  "I can't blame him," Joe replied, stifling a yawn. "It's late. We're putting in some crazy hours, too."

  As they got out of the van, Joe noticed someone standing in the shadows near the office door.

  "Who's there?" he called.

  At first the figure didn't move, and Joe wondered if they were in for another fight. As he and Frank approached, the other person moved out into the open. It was Hal Brady, and he didn't look happy to see them.

  "What're you doing here?" Brady growled.

  "We could ask you the same question," said Frank. "We're here to do something for Matt Simone."

  Brady snorted. "Something for Simone, huh? Beautiful. Well, I'm here to do something about Matt Simone."

  "What are you talking about?" Frank asked.

  "We're going to show Simone up for the rotten thief and liar he is," Brady said, his voice harsh with anger.

  "You're not making sense, Brady," Joe said.

  "No?" Brady stepped to within a foot of Joe and snarled, "Wait till we get those papers out of his desk! You'll see what a bum he is!"

  "You said 'we,' Brady. You and who else?"

  "Lou Gerard," Brady replied. "He told me to meet him here. Says there are papers in Simone's desk that'll prove how he's been cheating his employees, not paying into the pension fund, not keeping up with the health and welfare payments, just squeezing the company dry until he can take the money and run."

  "Lou Gerard told you this?" asked Frank.

  "That's right," Brady said. "And he asked me to help him nail Simone."

  A car drove up to the Lombard gate and stopped, its engine still running. A voice called out, "Brady? Is that you?"

  "Yeah, it's me," Brady answered. "Lou?"

  One of the car windows rolled down. Brady took a step closer.

  Frank saw movement in the dark car. There was a brief glint of light as something metallic was raised to the open window.

  "Brady, get down!" Frank yelled.

  Shots rang out in the quiet lot!

  Chapter 14

  Frank leaped at the astonished Hal Brady and bulldogged him to the ground. A bullet that would have caught the big driver squarely in the chest ripped through the sleeve of his s
hirt instead, just grazing the skin. The other shots passed harmlessly overhead.

  From his position flat on the pavement, Frank heard the car doors open and then slam. Three men got out. Three flashlights snapped on and began to cut through the darkness, searching out their target - and anyone else who got in the way. Each man held a flashlight and an automatic pistol.

  "Frank! Brady!" Joe's whisper came from behind a large metal trash container on wheels near the wall. "Over here!"

  Frank tapped Hal Brady's shoulder. "Stay with me! Stay low and keep quiet!"

  He crawled toward the protection of the trash bin, with Brady just behind him. They ducked between the bin and the wall, where they found Joe crouched.

  "What - " Brady started to say, but at a furious gesture from Joe, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Who are those guys? I don't understand!"

  "It's your buddy Lou Gerard, or some of his friends," Joe said softly. "He's the one who got you to come here, isn't he?"

  "Yeah, but - "

  "He set you up, Brady!" Frank hissed. He carefully peered out from behind their cover, then ducked back. "One of them's headed straight for us."

  "But - but why!" Brady was stunned. His eyes were wide, and he was shaking his head, trying to make sense of the mystery.

  "Later for that," Joe said. "Right now, staying alive is our top priority."

  The three gunmen had fanned out, and Frank saw that one was approaching the Dumpster.

  "On my signal," Frank whispered to the others, "shove this thing forward, hard. Then we'll try to wheel it toward the office and use it as a shield until we get inside."

  "Hey!" came the voice of the closest thug, only a few feet from the bin now. "I think I hear 'em!"

  "Go!" Frank snapped, not bothering to keep his voice down. He, Joe, and Brady pushed the big trash container forward, ramming it into the gunman. The man fell, and it sounded as if his flashlight broke as he went down.

  Joe darted out to get the bulky bin moving in the right direction, then ducked back behind it as shots rang out from two guns. He heard the shots bounce off the metal, as the bin creaked toward the door to the offices.

  The goons stalked them as Frank twisted the key in the lock and swung the door open. He and Brady dived in first, followed by Joe, who dragged the bin across the doorway, where their pursuers would use up a few seconds getting it out of the way. Brady grabbed an ignition key off a rack in the office. The group dashed for the garage, which stood dark and shut down for the night.

  Once in the garage, they stopped to listen. They could hear the Dumpster being moved from the door, and then they heard footsteps in Matt's office. Joe risked a quick look back and said quietly, "There are two of them in there. They must've left one on guard outside."

  The attack had taken Brady by surprise, but he caught on fast. "This is the key to my old rig. The tractor's three down, with the custom chrome work on the sides. If one of you can open the garage door to the outside, we might be able to break out of here."

  The door was raised by a chain and pulley system, Brady explained. "I'll do it," said Joe. "How's the arm, Brady? Are you all right?"

  Startled, Brady noticed for the first time a dark stain on the right sleeve of his shirt. "It's nothing, just a graze," he said. "I didn't even know I was hit."

  Frank stationed himself next to the door that led to the offices, pressing himself flat against the wall. Joe went to the outside garage door and grasped the chain to raise it as Hal Brady quickly clambered up into the cab of his old semi.

  When Joe gave him a high sign, Brady started the truck's powerful diesel engine. Then Joe pulled the chain, arm over arm, raising the corrugated metal door with a loud rattle.

  A bright beam lit up Joe as a gunman holding a flashlight came through the entryway from the office. He had his gun leveled at Joe, ready to shoot, as Frank chopped at the man's wrist with the edge of his right hand. The gun clattered to the concrete. The man turned in surprise and was hit flush on the jaw by Frank's left hook. The man fell, landing on top of his gun.

  The garage door rattled up, revealing a second gunman - one had been left outside. He, too, was poised to shoot as Hal started the truck forward and turned on his blinding headlights and leaned on the truck's deafening klaxon horn. The hood, who was standing directly in front of the oncoming machine, was forced to dive off to the side.

  Frank bent to move the man he had dropped to get his pistol, but he was knocked aside by a sudden impact. The third hood had slammed into him! Tucking into a shoulder roll, Frank somersaulted and sprang back to his feet. He was caught now between the gunman who had knocked him down and the first one, who was getting up. Joe was screened from the action by the truck, Frank realized, so he wouldn't know to come help.

  With his airhorn still blasting the night silence, Brady gunned his engine and drove forward, smashing the gangsters' car broadside where it stood in the entrance to the Lombard lot. He shifted into reverse, and it looked as if he was going to ram the car again.

  The guy outside, a tall, brawny type, yelled, "He's going to wreck the car! Let's beat it before we can't get out of here."

  The three men made it to the car before Brady maneuvered back for a second attack. They took off, the car wobbling from the damage done to the chassis by the heavy truck.

  Hal Brady climbed down from the cab. "Should we go after them?"

  "No," Frank said. "They've still got guns."

  Brady frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That big, burly one - I've seen him somewhere, I'm sure of it."

  "We have, too," Joe said quietly to his brother. "Only tonight he wasn't wearing a mask."

  "They must have figured they wouldn't be leaving any witnesses," said Frank. Turning to Brady, he asked, "Can you remember where you saw him?"

  After a few seconds the trucker sighed. "I'm drawing a blank, but it'll come to me." Then he stared at the Hardys with new interest.

  "What gives here? Those guys wanted to kill me! And what's the story with you two? Don't tell me you're just a couple of kids who work 4for Simone - kids don't handle themselves like you did when they're up against professional muscle. Talk to me!"

  Frank considered the situation a moment. "Okay, Brady," he said. "Just do this for us - go in the office and punch up the week's trip schedule on the computer. And we'll tell you what's going on."

  "Punch up?" Brady sputtered. "What I know about computers you could write on a matchbook cover."

  Again, Frank looked at Joe, who was grinning.

  "Brady, you just passed the test," Joe said. "Let's talk. The only one who knew you'd be here tonight was Gerard, right?"

  "But why would Gerard want me dead?"

  "We don't know yet," Frank answered. "You probably know something that you shouldn't, something that could help put Gerard away."

  Brady was looking at them as if they were crazy. "But I don't - put Gerard away? But it's Simone who - "

  "Did Gerard tell you something about Matt being a crook a while back?"

  "He told me that Simone was bleeding money out of the company, that he was messing around with the books. And that soon he'd take all this money and let the business go under and retire to some place in the sun, where they could never bring him back to face the music."

  "Brady," Frank interrupted. "Gerard is bent. He's been trying to extort money from Matt, in exchange for going real easy on contract talks and so on. But Matt wasn't going along, so Gerard decided to up the pressure."

  "You mean - " Light dawned in Hal Brady's eyes. "Like this hijacking business?"

  "Right," Joe said. "Gerard has this driver called Turk - looks and talks like an old boxer who's been hit too often. We're pretty sure he's one of the hijackers. And these three tonight are probably the others."

  Brady suddenly smacked a fist into his other hand. "I knew I'd seen that big guy before! I had a meeting with Gerard a week ago, and when I arrived, that guy was there. He left right after I arrived."

  "That's pro
bably why Gerard wanted you out of the way," said Joe. "Because you could tie him to the hijackers. And now we'll be on the hit list, too," he added.

  "Sure," Frank agreed. "He probably hoped that when your body was found, Deputy MacReedy might guess that Matt had had it done. Everyone knew there was bad feeling between you."

  Hal Brady looked angry, then embarrassed. "Then I've been a fool, treating Matt Simone like a criminal."

  "Matt'll understand, once you explain that Gerard suckered you," said Joe.

  "Suckered me!" Brady looked angry again. "He almost killed me! I want to get face-to-face with that little creep. Right now!"

  "Slow down, Brady!" Frank warned. "First we have to get proof." He turned to Joe. "Let's check in with Dad."

  They called Fenton from Matt's phone.

  "Sorry," came Fenton's voice from the other end of the line. "That tow truck was reported stolen last week, just as you suspected. And I couldn't find anything on this Hal Brady. He seems to be clean."

  "That's okay, Dad," Frank replied. He motioned to another phone on a small table in a corner, and Joe listened in. "We already worked that one out for ourselves. But didn't you say something about Mickey Vane being suspected of involvement with labor racketeering?"

  "Vane? That's right."

  "Did you get anything more in that area?" They could hear Fenton going through some papers.

  "Here it is. Vane was mixed up with a man named Leonard Garry, who was wanted in California in connection with some missing union funds. Garry is still at large. Does that help any?"

  "It sure does," Frank replied. "Thanks, Dad. See you later."

  "What are the odds that Lou Gerard is Leonard Garry?" he asked Joe after they'd hung up.

  "No bet," Joe answered. "If we could get Gerard's fingerprints and match them with Garry's, that'd pretty much be the ball game."

  Brady's expression brightened. "There ought to be stuff with Gerard's prints in his office at the local," he said. "Let's get over there!"

  Frank checked his watch. "It's pretty late, Hal. How do we get in?"