The Stone Idol

Table of Contents

 

 

 

WHEN an ancient stone idol disappears, the Hardy Boys are off on another fast-paced adventure. An important clue takes them to a primitive village of the South American Andes Mountains. They almost catch the cunning criminal, but instead are nearly caught themselves!

Suddenly, a call for help sends them flying off to the Antarctic to assist their father, Fenton Hardy, who is investigating a ring of thieves pilfering U.S. Navy bases. The Hardys fight the frigid cold to escape the ruthless traps set by the thieves, and finally outwit the gang.

But the valuable sculpture is still missing, so the brothers pursue a string of clues to Easter Island. There, an elusive birdman threatens their lives. But by using fine investigative skills, the Hardy Boys find that the mystery of the stone idol is not what it seems!

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Copyright © 1981 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published

in 2005 by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. THE HARDY BOYS
^®
is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. S.A.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-07674-3

“Joe, listen to this!” said Frank Hardy, who was standing at the window holding a newspaper.

His brother was relaxing on the bed with a sports magazine. “What is it?” he asked, looking up. “Yesterday's baseball game at Yankee Stadium?”

“Maybe a game,” Frank replied, “but it sure isn't t baseball. It's an ad in the
Times:
‘Wanted: A sleuth to investigate a strange mystery.' ”

Joe got off the bed and joined Frank at the window. They studied the ad together.

The Hardy boys had just solved an embezzlement case for a New York bank and were in their hotel room trying to decide whether to stay in the city for a few more days or to return home.

“What do you make of this ad?” Frank asked.

Joe shrugged. “Why don't you call up and see what it's about? School vacation isn't over for a month yet, so we have plenty of time to solve another mystery.”

Eighteen-year-old Frank pushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead and grinned. “Good idea. ” He dialed the number while his blond brother, who was a year younger, held his ear close to the receiver so they both could hear.

“South American Antiquities,” a woman answered. “May I help you?”

“I'm calling in reference to your ad in the Times,” Frank said.

“You want to speak to Mr. Kimberley,” she replied. “I'll ring him for you.”

A man's voice came on a moment later. “This is Kim Kimberley. My secretary tells me you're calling about our ad. You must be a detective.”

“That's right, sir. My brother and I are amateur detectives.”

“Any credentials?” Kimberley barked.

Frank described the bank embezzlement case they had just solved.

The antique dealer sounded impressed. “I saw the newspaper accounts. They say you boys cracked the case all by yourselves. You're the kind of detectives I need. Do you want to come to my office for an interview?”

Frank looked inquiringly at Joe, who nodded eagerly, Joe was the impulsive Hardy boy. He liked to plunge into any kind of mystery, while Frank was more likely to figure out a game plan first.

“Well, are you interested?” Kimberley asked impatiently.

“Yes, we are,” Frank assured him. “We'll be right over. ”

“Empire State Building, seventy-fifth floor,” the man said and hung up.

The Hardys left their hotel and flagged down a passing taxi. Soon they were riding through the rush of Manhattan traffic amid a din of honking horns and squealing brakes. Crowds of pedestrians crossed at the corners as the lights changed.

“A bit more lively than Bayport,” Joe quipped.

Bayport was their hometown, where their father had moved the family after spending years as a New York City detective. Now Mr. Hardy was a famous private investigator who had trained his sons to follow in his footsteps.

The taxi deposited them on the sidewalk in front of the Empire State Building. At the seventy-fifth floor, they found South American Antiquities. In the waiting room, they spoke to the secretary. Smiling, she ushered them into Kimberley's office.

The antique dealer was a short, wiry man with red hair and a red beard. He kept flexing his fingers in a nervous manner.

He's worried about something, Joe thought.

Kimberley motioned for the Hardys to sit in front of his desk.

“I'm a partner in South American Antiquities, a business dealing in art objects from South America and its islands,” he explained. “We sell artifacts from such places as the Andes Mountains and Easter Island.”

“What's your problem, Mr. Kimberley?” Frank inquired.

“It concerns an idol from Easter Island,” Kimberley revealed.

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed. “You mean one of those big stone heads?”

Kimberley smiled. “I'm not talking about the huge stone heads. This is a small figure of one of the ancient gods of the island. It was bought at the branch of South American Antiquities in Santiago, Chile.”

“Easter Island belongs to Chile, doesn't it?” Frank asked.

“That's right. We maintain the Santiago office to handle pieces from Easter Island as well as from Chile itself ”

“Who obtained the idol?” Joe asked.

“I did,” Kimberley declared. “I was in our Santiago office when a Scandinavian collector came in and offered it for sale. I saw it was authentic, so I bought it. Later I showed it to my partner, Charles Bertrand. He agreed that I should take it to New York and sell it to a museum. Easter Island artifacts are much in demand, so it would fetch a good price. ”

“How did the idol get out of Easter Island?” Joe wanted to know.

“That's a good question,” Kimberley said. “I see you boys are aware that the ownership of art objects is often in dispute.”

“We've investigated cases for museums and private collectors,” Frank admitted.

Kimberley nodded and made a pyramid of his fingers. “So you want to know if South American Antiquities has title to the Easter Island piece. Well, it's all open and aboveboard. The Scandinavian collector gave me this document. ”

He reached into his desk drawer, removed a paper, and pushed it across the top. It was a copy of an official certificate stating that the idol had been legitimately purchased on Easter Island. Only the name of the buyer was blocked out.

“We can't tell who the Scandinavian collector is,” Frank noted.

“He wants to remain anonymous,” Kimberley stated. “I have the original with his signature in my safe. I can produce it should it ever be needed. At this point, I prefer to respect his right to privacy.”

“So the purchase was legitimate and you brought the idol to New York,” Joe said. “Where's the mystery?”

“But I didn't bring it to New York!” Kimberley spoke up.

“Why not?”

“Well, I put it in my handbag in Santiago. I took the bag to the airport and brought it with me to New York. At customs, I opened the bag for inspection. ”

“And then?” Joe prompted him.

“The idol was not there! It had been stolen!”

“Someone must have sneaked the idol out of your bag on the trip,” Joe suggested.

Kimberley shook his head. “Impossible! I had the bag with me from the hotel to the Santiago airport, where I took it aboard the plane and kept it between my feet during the flight. No one could have opened it!”