The Genius Thieves (12 page)

Out stepped the masked man.

The color drained from Frank's face. "She betrayed us," he said.

Without saying another word, the brothers took off down Elliot Place. The road was unpaved, and it was quite narrow — too narrow for the van—as it wound into the woods. A wild shot passed through the branches of the trees above them as they flew along the dirt road.

Before long the trees gave way to a clearing. Frank and Joe found themselves running through a freshly cut field of grass. Now they were able to pick up the pace—until Frank tripped over a huge rock.

"Yeow!" he yelled as he rolled onto the ground. He looked over to see what had tripped him, and instantly he could tell where they were. The huge rock was a tombstone.

Frank picked himself up and ran after his brother, who was dodging tombstones left and right.

Behind them they could hear the heavy breathing of the masked man, in close pursuit. With a burst of speed, Frank and Joe ran past a marble statue and over a hill. On the other side was another section of the graveyard. This one was newer — there were several trucks around, and shovels and pickaxes littered the ground.

Another shot whizzed by them and shattered the window of a truck about five feet to the left of them. They ran sharply the other way—right into an open grave!

Joe's momentum pulled him over the grave, and he crashed to the ground on the other side. But Frank tumbled headfirst into the deep hole, hitting the bottom with a thud.

Joe tried to get up, but an agonizing jolt of pain shot up from his leg. His face twisted into a grimace as his sprained ankle buckled beneath him. He looked up to see the masked man standing on top of the hill with his hands on his hips. Grasping a shovel that was sticking out of a pile of dirt next to him, Joe forced himself to stand up.

"Don't bother," said the masked man as he walked steadily toward Frank and Joe. "How convenient—you've already chosen your plot. Looks like it's big enough for two. Shall we test it?"

He circled around the grave toward Joe, with his gun drawn. Joe tried to back away but fell again. He lay helplessly as the man stood directly above him. He pointed his gun at Joe and looked down into the grave.

"Hello, Frank," he said. The muffled voice sounded familiar to Frank, but the man was trying to disguise it by speaking in a growling bass whisper. "I wish you hadn't brought this on yourself, but you insisted on being nosy with the wrong person."

"Who are you?" snapped Frank. "At least you can give us that satisfaction before bumping us off!"

The masked man reared back his head and let out a deep-throated laugh. "I think it's my turn to be satisfied," he said. "Now, I'm sure you're thinking that I plan to shoot you here in cold blood." He grinned as he looked at the brothers' fearful faces. "But you're wrong. Why should I perform that nasty task when you can do it yourselves?" With that, he pulled the aerosol can out of his pocket. Joe was trapped.

Pressing his gun to Joe's throat, the man brought the aerosol to his prisoner's face. "Ever hear of pheromones? They're airborne chemicals that trigger emotions. Love — fear — rage — "

"Joe!" Frank yelled, but he could suggest nothing. One flick of the trigger and Joe would be history. Frank cringed as he watched the pheromone spray waft around his brother. He knew which emotion this spray would bring—the same rage that had turned Dwight Trilby into a homicidal maniac—and Trilby had only gotten a brief taste of the spray.

The masked man smiled and backed away from Joe, still pointing the gun. "Now," he said. "Stand up."

Joe struggled to his feet, despite the injured ankle. "Pick that up," the man said, indicating the shovel. Joe obeyed.

By now the man had backed around to the other side of the grave. He cocked his gun. "Now, dig."

Frank and Joe both looked at him in disbelief.

"You heard me — fill the hole!" He fired a warning shot two feet above Joe's head.

"Do as he says, Joe!" Frank shouted.

Meekly, Joe threw a small shovelful of soil on top of Frank.

"Faster," the man commanded.

Joe dumped in some more soil.

"Faster!" The man was now screaming.

All of a sudden, it seemed that Joe had forgotten his ankle injury. His shovelfuls became larger. He picked up the pace of his digging, grunting with the effort.

"Excellent," the man said with sinister glee. He could see that the pheromones were taking effect.

Joe was now shoveling furiously, throwing mounds of dirt around Frank. Within ten minutes Frank was practically covered.

"Joe! Joe! Think of what you're doing!" Frank yelled.

But Joe was now foaming at the mouth. His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and he was babbling nonsense words.

Just as Frank was about to be covered, Joe began to shriek insanely. He backed away from the grave as if he were being attacked.

"Finish your job!" the masked man demanded.

But Joe was too far gone. He flailed his shovel around in midair, battling something that only he could see.

The masked man aimed his gun at Joe. "I was hoping not to do this, my friend, but you've failed me."

Bracing the gun with two outstretched arms, he fired.

JOE DIDN'T SEE the flare of gunpowder from the shot. He didn't hear the bullet rip through the air toward his face.

And he didn't even feel the impact as it ricocheted off his shovel blade!

A red haze of rage had rolled in between him and the world. He swung the shovel violently and ran around in circles.

The masked man leveled his gun again and tried to follow Joe with his sights. "Stand still, you fool!" he snapped, his voice rising with frustration.

Joe's motions just became faster and jerkier. The masked man cocked his gun.

In blind rage, Joe howled and flung the shovel across the grave. The man dropped his gun as the shovel flew toward his face.

He ducked out of the way—but not in time. The shovel blade conked him on the side of the head.

He fell to the ground, unconscious.

Meanwhile, Frank had almost dug himself out from the grave. He looked around at his brother, who was now tearing around the graveyard, fighting with the tombstones.

Frank lifted his elbows up to the top of the soil. With a mighty heave, he pulled his body out of the dirt by pushing down with his arms.

Once free, he ran after Joe. "Joe!" he cried. "It's Frank! Your brother, Frank!"

Joe spun around and saw Frank running toward him. His eyes popped open and he howled again. He ran away from Frank, stopping to pick up any objects he could throw: shovels, pickaxes, rocks. The objects flew toward Frank, and he kept ducking away.

Joe kept running until he reached a parked truck. He climbed inside and began pushing and pulling knobs, trying to start the engine. Frank reached the truck just as Joe accidentally turned on the radio full-blast.

Reacting to the sound of a blaring heavy-metal band, Joe flung himself out of the other side of the truck and began pulling at his hair. He lurched around spastically to the music, gouging himself as if trying to pick off invisible animals from his skin.

"Joe! Calm down! Listen to me!" Frank pleaded. He tried to grab Joe but couldn't get a grip. As the music moved faster and faster, Joe's motions became more and more violent.

Frank climbed into the truck to turn off the radio. But all that was left of the On/Off switch was a hole where Joe had pulled it out. Frank banged on the radio, but it was no use.

It was hopeless. Frank closed his eyes and bellowed at the top of his lungs: "Stop it, Joe! You're going to kill yourself!"

Suddenly a spark flew out of the radio. Dzzzzit! The song stopped, and Joe collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Frank jumped out of the truck and ran to his brother. Joe's pulse was normal; Frank breathed a sigh of relief. From behind him came the sound of voices. He looked back to see two familiar figures walking over the hill toward him — Jed Wilson and Malcolm Rogers! In Rogers's hand was an Electrojam.

"Is he going to be all right?" Rogers asked.

"I think so," said Frank. "Thanks to you."

Mr. Rogers smiled. "Don't thank me, thank your friend Jed. He heard the music from way out on Archer Street!"

"But how—I thought — " Frank stuttered.

"I know, you can't understand why I'm here with Jed after the treatment I gave you at my apartment last week!"

"I thought you wanted to kill me! You did shoot at me, after all."

"I may have been suspicious of you, but I didn't want to kill you. My gun went off by accident—and I forgot that I had told Oscar to load it! I was as shocked as you when it fired.

"You see, when I saw you snooping around my papers that night, I thought you were the one who stole the money from the bank: I tried to tail you several times on campus, as you know. But then I saw Sedgwick Trilby's son this evening, and he told me all about you. I decided then that I wanted to work with you."

"Then how did you find me here?" Frank asked. He looked at Jed. "And how did you two end up together?"

"I saw you guys acting strange at the party," Jed said. "So I watched you after you left. All of a sudden there was this gunfire. I saw it from my room. Everything got quiet for a while, but then I saw your van tear out. So I ran out to my car to follow."

"And when I saw your van go, I thought I'd catch up with you to make friends," said Rogers. "But I lost track of the van. Then I noticed Jed was behind me. I recognized his old jalopy as the one from which I took an Electrojam the other night by the boathouse. So I stopped him. He explained Electrojam; I explained the bank thefts; and we joined forces."

Just then Joe began to stir. As he struggled to open his eyes, he came face-to-face with Mr. Rogers.

Joe shuddered. "Is that the masked dude?" he asked.

Frank sprang to his feet. "Wait a minute," he said, looking at Mr. Rogers. "You're obviously not the masked man!"

"Only at a Halloween ball, my friend," Rogers said.

"Then who is that?" Frank pointed to the man who still lay where Joe's shovel had knocked him out. "Who is the man that tried to kill us?"

Frank, Joe, and Mr. Rogers ran over to the mysterious man. Joe straggled behind, holding his aching head. The man was beginning to stir and groan.

When the four of them were gathered around, Frank pulled off the man's ski cap. He and Joe both gasped.

It was Jim Castigan.

"I can't believe it!" Frank said almost to himself.

Mr. Rogers shook his head. "I hate to say it, but I can.'-'

"You know Mr. Castigan?" asked Joe.

"I employed him," said Rogers. "Years ago, this man couldn't get a job. Brilliant chemist and computer programmer, but it seemed he had sticky fingers. He stole money and chemicals from several of the companies he worked for. Trying to finance some weird research into pheromones."

"I think he finally succeeded," said Joe, wincing with pain.

Mr. Rogers continued, "He worked in the research and development department of a computer company I used to run. He shaped up, and helped develop all sorts of new programs for us."

"Including the one that Bayport Bank and Trust bought!" Joe said.

Rogers paused thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, that's very possible," he said. "At any rate, Castigan left the company to pursue his teaching career, and I understand he had a spotless record."

"Until now," said Frank.

"Too bad his greed had to suck in Lloyd and Ty and Stu," said Joe.

Frank hung his head. "And Sarah," he said softly.

For a moment, no one knew what to say. But the tense silence was broken by the sound of footsteps coming over the hill.

"Okay, don't panic! We've got you covered."

They looked up to see two policemen jogging toward them with guns drawn. Behind them was Fenton Hardy. Frank and Joe looked at each other and exploded into laughter.

"Just in time, Dad," said Frank.

Fenton and the policemen handcuffed Castigan, and they all walked back out to the road.

Back at the campus, as the police rounded up Pierce, Goldman, and Farnsworth, Frank paid a visit to Van Cott Hall. He sneaked in through an open window, walked to the second floor, and knocked on room 21.

"Stu?" Sarah asked softly through the door.

"No," Frank replied.

"Jim!" she said excitedly, and pulled the door open. Her smile gave way to a shocked expression when she saw Frank. "Gin — Ginny! I thought you were my friend Ginny!" she said, trying to cover up.

"It's no use, Sarah. It's all over, the whole thing. The police have Castigan, and they're about to come up to take you in for questioning."

Sarah frowned and started to close the door. "You know it's awfully late, Frank. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Frank stuck his foot in the door. "Please just tell me one thing," he said. "Why did you do it? How could someone as smart as you get mixed up with a criminal like Jim Castigan?"

Sarah's hair fell in front of her face as she looked down. A tear rolled off her cheek. She let the door open.

"He was so smart," she said. "And so attractive. Even you have to admit what a magnetic teacher he is. And he promised us everything. He was going to take care of us all—if we helped him out.

"He convinced us that you only get what you want by outwitting everybody else and only taking from those who can afford the loss.

"See, Lloyd and Stu and Ty—and me—we're all scholarship students. Do you know what it's like to be with all these rich kids, year after year, when you have nothing? Jim understood that."

Sarah sighed. "He called himself a modern Robin Hood. That's why he took only from a wealthy bank."

"And you believed that?"

Sarah nodded sadly. "We all did. And he rewarded us. He gave us all A's in chemistry. Then he promised us enough money to set us up for life, and he guaranteed no one could ever trace it."

The sound of policemen's footsteps echoed in the stairwell behind them. "Well," said Frank with a sigh, "he was wrong."

As the policemen came to take Sarah to the station house, Frank walked slowly away.