Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
"This is too much talk and not enough action," said Rocky. "We've got to figure out what to do with these kids. They blab, and we're washed up."
"We may be washed up, anyway," said Karnovsky thoughtfully as he spooned more caviar onto toast. "Now that Morrison has committed suicide, we cannot be sure we can make an arrangement with whoever takes his job. Perhaps we will have to move our business to another city. Pity. Things were running so smoothly here."
"And these kids?" Rocky asked again.
Karnovsky looked them up and down. "They all seem prime specimens. Good solid meat on their bones."
"Hey, Karnovsky," said Joe. "Did anybody ever tell you that you have a real sick sense of humor?"
But Karnovsky wasn't smiling.
Rocky wasn't smiling, either.
As the two men stood face-to-face, Frank and Joe exchanged glances. They both saw their chance—and took it.
Joe dived at Rocky, grabbing the arm that held the gun.
Wielding a meat cleaver night after night had made Rocky's arm as strong as iron. Joe grabbed it with both hands to keep him from bringing it up. But there was no way to stop Rocky's other hand from smashing into Joe's jaw and sending him sprawling halfway across the room.
Frank barreled into Karnovsky, the top of his head butting into Karnovsky's stomach.
But bashing into Karnovsky was like hitting a brick wall. Karnovsky didn't go down. Frank merely bounced off him, stunned, while Karnovsky moved to his desk to get the gun hidden inside a drawer.
Fortunately, Joe and Frank weren't alone.
Callie was at the desk in an instant. She reached into the open caviar tin and pulled out a handful of gooey caviar—and hit Karnovsky square in the face.
At the same time Lisa went for the champagne bottle. She grabbed it by the neck and smashed it over Rocky's head. He stood tottering and dazed, while the foursome got ready to make a quick exit.
They had reached the corridor when they heard Karnovsky's bellow of rage. "After them! Don't let them get out of here alive!"
"We can make it out the back door," said Frank. But when they reached it, it wouldn't budge.
Frank smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I'm a numbskull. I forgot Rocky re-locked it." He reached for his lock pick.
"There's no time. I hear them coming," said Joe.
"Let's try this way," said Lisa, indicating another door leading out of the room.
The door swung open, and the four of them jumped through it.
They all felt the icy air immediately.
"We're in some kind of freezer," whispered Joe in the darkness.
Outside Karnovsky was yelling. "They can't have gotten out. They're in here somewhere. As soon as you see them, Rocky, shoot to kill."
"I'm freezing," whispered Callie through chattering teeth.
"Which would you prefer?" asked Joe. "TUrning to ice in here—or facing the gunfire outside?"
"What's the difference?" said Lisa. "Either way we die."
OUTSIDE THE WALK-IN freezer, Karnovsky and Rocky exchanged triumphant smiles.
"They've got to be in there," said Rocky. "We're going to have some very cool kids in a couple of minutes."
"Let's check it out right now," said Karnovsky. "We can't afford to let them get away. We're going to need a couple of weeks to clear away all traces of our operation now that Morrison is gone. After that, we can declare bankruptcy and clear out."
"You're the boss," said Rocky, reaching for the door handle.
"Be careful," said Karnovsky. "There are four of them."
"Don't worry. There are eight slugs in one of these," said Rocky, indicating the .45 in his hand.
"And twenty in this one," said Karnovsky, who had a small but deadly black Italian Beretta. "I'll come in right behind you."
Rocky swung open the door. "Kids, I know you're in here. Come out with your hands up."
"Maybe they're frozen stiff already," said Karnovsky when no one answered.
"It'll be easy to find out," said Rocky, reaching for the light switch.
"Hide-and-seek is over."
He never knew what hit him. Neither did Karnovsky.
The Hardys stood examining their weapons.
"What do you think this is supposed to be, leg of lamb?" asked Joe, tossing his frozen weapon to the floor.
"I don't know—but this leg has a horseshoe at the end," said Frank as he laid his weapon beside it.
"Ugh, I don't want to think about it," said Callie. She dropped the mangy-looking frozen chicken she'd been holding at the ready.
"This sure isn't government-inspected, Grade-A meat like the stuff in the freezer up front," said Lisa, throwing away an unidentifiable animal. "It's real mystery meat."
"Come on, let's get out of here," said Callie. "I don't feel very steady right now."
"I have to admit, I've felt better myself," said Joe. He and Callie grinned shakily at each other. "Nice of you to admit it," she murmured.
"Come on, then," said Frank, who had found a key ring in Rocky's pocket and was on his way to unlock the back door.
"Wait a second," said Lisa. "We have to figure out what to do with these bozos."
"Easy," said Joe. "We drop them off at the police station. The cops will be real interested in their operation."
"Hold on," said Lisa. "Let's think this through. We're not altogether sure that the police force isn't somehow mixed up in the scandal at City Hall. I think we have to keep the cops out of this until we know more."
"What do you suggest we do?" Frank asked, nodding in agreement.
"Why don't we take them to your house?" asked Lisa. "We can grill them there and find out if anyone else is involved in this mess."
"And also find out if they're the ones who wasted Morrison and grabbed the black book," said Joe.
"I don't think so," Callie said, frowning. "From what Karnovsky said back in the office, he had no idea that Morrison's suicide was a fake. So he couldn't be the one who did the killing and the heist."
"Hey, with you two girls around, I feel like an extra spoke on a wheel," said Frank. "You're doing all the detective work."
"Oh, don't feel bad," said Callie, grinning. "If you're good we'll let you in on the fun."
Lisa scooped up both guns, putting the Beretta in her shoulder bag and keeping the .45 in her hand. "I'd better take care of these. I've got a gun permit, since my work can take me into some rough neighborhoods."
"That's fine with me," Frank said. "We don't handle guns unless we have to."
Lisa trained the .45 on the two men. "Come on, guys, we're going for a ride."
Karnovsky and Rocky groaned as they climbed to their feet and walked out ahead of Lisa to the Hardys' van.
After a short ride Lisa herded the prisoners into the Hardys' house.
"You handle that gun like a real pro," Joe remarked.
"Glad I look convincing," she whispered in his ear so that Karnovsky and Rocky couldn't hear. "I'd hate to think about what would happen if I actually had to use this thing."
But inside the house, even the gun in Lisa's hand couldn't scare the two men into talking.
"I do not know anyone else who is paying off Morrison," Karnovsky maintained. "When the applications for the high school food contract were sent out, I approached Morrison and hinted I would pay him a reasonable amount if Eat-Right got the contract. We met and figured out how much profit I would make. Then he asked for one-fifth of it, and we made the deal. He was very businesslike, a good man to work with. It is a great pity he is gone—especially since whoever replaces him may start nosing around."
"He won't have to look far," said Joe. "Not after we hand you over to the cops."
"In the meantime, we have to figure out what to do with these two," said Frank.
"Is there someplace in the house you can put them?" asked Lisa. "Someplace secure?"
"As a matter of fact, there is," said Joe. "Our dad's new file room."
"Right," Frank said, nodding. Then he explained to the girls, "There was a case awhile ago where some thugs broke into his office to swipe some private information. Afterward, my dad decided he needed better security, so he built a file room in the cellar with reinforced concrete walls and a steel door."
"It sounds perfect," said Lisa.
"You cannot do this — cage us like animals," protested Karnovsky.
"Yeah, we've got our rights," said Rocky.
"Sure you do," said Lisa as she leveled her gun at them. "Like those rejects from the dog-food company. Like us when you were ready to do away with us. I don't want to hear about your rights. It makes me mad."
Joe stared at Lisa. Her tone was brutal. But then she turned and winked at him. She was bluffing. He relaxed.
"Okay, okay, don't get nervous with that thing," Rocky said hastily.
"A gentleman never argues with a lady," said Karnovsky, shrugging.
"Let's head down to the cellar," said Joe after getting the keys to the file room from their hiding place behind a painting.
"How long do you intend to hold us here?" asked Karnovsky.
"As long as we have to," Frank answered.
"I hope you will give us more than bread and water to eat," said Karnovsky. He patted his huge stomach. "Indeed, I am getting hungry already. I am accustomed to regular meals. Five a day."
"We'll figure out something," said Frank.
"I already have," said Joe. "Wait a sec while I go to the kitchen. I'll get you your first night's meal."
A minute later he returned with a stack of cans held in both hands.
Karnovsky nose wrinkled in distaste. "Canned food. I should have known. So very American."
"What do you mean?" Joe said with mock indignation. "I'm giving you a great gourmet selection. My aunt Gertrude buys only the best for when she pet-sits."
"Cat food," said Karnovsky, turning pale as he read the labels.
Joe shrugged. "It's a lot better than what you've been feeding the kids at school."
"Never," said Karnovsky.
"You're sick, kid," Rocky said, glowering.
"And you're going to be mighty hungry in a day or so," said Joe. "I think I'll spoon out a selection of all the varieties on your plate to see which one you eat first. A kind of taste test. My aunt's clients prefer the fish heads, but maybe you'll go for one of the other treats."
After interviewing them a bit longer, the four were convinced that they were not involved with either the muggings or the murder. They'd have to check further.
"We have to look for other people who have made payoffs to Morrison," said Frank. "That's still our only lead to the killer."
"How did your research at the newspaper go?" Lisa asked.
"It went well — too well, in fact," said Frank.
"We came up with a whole bunch of contracts that the city has awarded over the past year, plus building permits and zoning variations," Callie explained. "It's funny, you never think about how much influence politicians have until they're caught being crooked. They sure can influence everyone if they mess up on the job."
"Can I see your list?" asked Lisa. She skimmed the sheets of paper that Callie handed her. "You're right. It is immense. But it's all we have. We'll have to go over it carefully to look for the most suspicious deals, the ones involving the most money. Then we can start investigating them and hope we get lucky."
"Luck is what we need," said Frank. "We can keep those guys locked down there for only so long. Sooner or later someone will wonder where they are. Besides, the family is coming back in a few days. My dad and mom might go along with keeping those two under wraps, but my aunt Gertrude would totally freak out."
"We'll do our best," said Callie. "Frank and I made four copies of the list. We can each study them tonight and meet tomorrow to compare notes and decide on our next move. Meanwhile, I'd better go home. My mom'll be worried enough already."
"I'll walk you home," said Frank. "That mugger is still out there."
"You don't have to," said Lisa. "I'll walk with Callie. She can tell me more about the town on the way, and I'm packing all the protection we need." She patted her shoulder bag. The two guns were in it, and the catch was left open for instant access.
"Okay," said Frank. "Joe and I will start looking over the list as soon as you leave."
"Right," said Joe. "See you tomorrow."
After the two girls left, Joe said to Frank, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but working on a case with Lisa is something else. Brains, guts, and good looks, too. What more can a guy look for in a partner?"
"Working with Callie isn't so bad, either," said Frank. "She always manages to keep her cool— unlike some hotheads I know."
The Hardys stood in silence for a moment. Then Joe met Frank's eyes. His own expression was carefully neutral.
"Maybe we should keep the setup on this case just like it is," he said. "Two teams are better than one, and all that stuff."
"That's fine with me," said Frank. "Let's get to work on this list."
The Hardys sat side-by-side at the dining room table with one copy of the list in front of them. Each ran his eyes down the sheet of paper, noting all the individuals and corporations who had done business with the city over the past year.
"Hey, here's a live one," said Joe. "Acme Waste Disposal Corporation. They've got a license from the city to remove hazardous wastes from local factories. I've heard that companies like that have ties to organized crime."
"Don't believe everything you hear," said Frank. "Most of them are respectable businesses—doing valuable work. Without them, the environment would be in even worse shape than it is now."
"Well, I'm writing it down," said Joe. "All those stories have to mean something. Where there's smoke — "
"You can't see anything clearly," Frank cut him off. "I want something better than rumor to go on."
"Look, I'll write down the names I want to investigate, and you write down yours," said Joe. "You can't always depend on brain power. Sometimes you have to go with gut feeling."
Frank nodded and went back to studying the list. After fifteen minutes of concentrating, he shook his head. "It doesn't look like it makes any difference what approach we use. With all these names, the only way to come up with suspects is to put the list on the wall and throw darts at it."