The Castle Conundrum (Hardy Boys) Read online

  They found Luis alone in the room. He was just getting dressed. “Aha, the early birds,” he said. “You put on quite a show last night. I must remember never to get into a fight with one of you.”

  “Your act was really something, too,” Joe said. “The kids loved it. And so did we.”

  “It gave me an idea,” Frank said. He walked over to the window and gazed out at the chateau. “What if I took one of those glowsticks and put it in a big balloon, then filled it with helium?”

  “How original!” Luis said, in an ironic tone. “I must have done that twenty times last night.”

  “Sure,” Frank replied. “But here’s the twist. I put a string on the balloon and tie it down somewhere out of sight. And I put something that burns very slowly next to the string.”

  “Interesting,” Luis said. “But what is the point?”

  “When the fire reaches the string, the balloon rises and flies away,” Joe said. “And if it’s dark out, people see this weird glowing thing that appears out of nowhere and then vanishes into the sky. Neat, huh?”

  “Of course,” Frank said, “you’d want it to rise very slowly. You’d have to put just the right amount of helium in. That would take a lot of know-how and experience.”

  “Certainly it would,” Luis said with a smile.

  Frank exchanged a look with Joe. He said, “You admit it, then? You created that floating glow that scared everybody the other day?”

  “Of course,” Luis said, still smiling. “It was very effective, wasn’t it? Setting is everything.”

  “Wait a minute,” Joe said. “You admit that you’ve been trying to make people think Fréhel is haunted? You’ve been trying to wreck TVI?”

  The smile vanished. “What?” Luis said. “Wreck TVI? Nothing of the sort. It was only to tease you, the newcomers. What is that word? A hazing.”

  “And the stone that fell from the chateau?” Frank said. “Was that just hazing? Somebody could have been hurt.”

  “I know nothing about that,” Luis protested. “I created the floating spirit, and I made the moans to be heard during the mistral. That is all.”

  “What about Jean-Claude’s bicycle?” Joe demanded. “Who loosened the brakes?”

  “I have no idea,” Luis said. He was starting to look alarmed.

  “Were you working with anybody else?” Joe continued. “Welly, for example?”

  “Maybe Welly suspected,” Luis replied. “He knew I borrowed his tape machine. But he did nothing he shouldn’t.”

  “And no one else worked with you or encouraged you?” Frank probed.

  “I have no more to say,” Luis told him.

  “That means yes,” Frank told Joe. To Luis, he said, “We’ll have to tell Sophie about this, you know. Unless you want to tell her yourself.”

  Luis stared past Frank at the window. After a moment he said, “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

  “We’ll say nothing to anyone,” Frank promised. “And we’d like you to do the same.”

  “I promise,” Luis said.

  Just then Welly bounded up the stairs with a towel draped around his neck. “Rise and shine!” he said. “Time for the most important meal of the day!”

  On the way to breakfast, Luis walked ahead. Frank and Joe watched him go up to Sophie and speak earnestly. The two crossed to the square and sat down.

  At breakfast the conversation was about the show the night before. “Those kids were so cute,” Libby declared. “I could have hugged them all!”

  “I was very interested by what Joe and Frank did,” Narguib said. “Was that karate?”

  “Not exactly,” Joe told him. “More like a variation on tae kwon do, seasoned with a few kung fu moves.”

  “Luis juggles beautifully,” Siri said. “And those sticks that glow in different colors are amazing. I wonder what is in them.”

  “Chemicals,” Welly said. “I should think they cause pollution. Most new gadgets do.”

  “That reminds me,” Manu said. “Gert, didn’t you tell us you were in Paris once when they banned cars because of pollution?”

  Gert eyed him warily. “Yes. It was an excursion of my high school class. Why?”

  “This spring I did a term project on controlling pollution emergencies,” Manu said. “The only time I think they banned cars in Paris was seven years ago. But you weren’t in high school seven years ago. You would have been far too young.”

  “Your research was faulty,” Gert growled. “Perhaps they did not ban all cars, only some. What does it matter?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t,” Manu said hastily. “I was curious, that’s all.”

  Frank found that he was curious, too. Hadn’t Gert said something once about having taken a job after high school, instead of attending university?

  “Hey, Gert,” Frank said. “How old are you?”

  “I will be eighteen my next birthday,” Gert replied.

  “Oh? Cool. When’s that?” Frank continued.

  “The eleventh of October,” Gert told him.

  “And what year were you born?” Frank asked quickly.

  “In nineteen eighty—I mean … “ Gert glared at Frank and fell silent.

  “It’s hard to do subtraction under pressure, isn’t it,” Frank said. “But most people know their birth year by heart. Why don’t you check your identity card? It’s on that, isn’t it? May I look?”

  Gert’s hand went to his hip pocket. “Certainly not,” he said. “What business is this of yours?”

  “I’m wondering if you’re who you pretend to be,” Frank said. “Someone at TVI is here under false colors. If it isn’t you, why not show me your ID?”

  From the doorway, Sophie said, “Or if you prefer, Gert, you may show me. You said you would bring it by the office two weeks ago.”

  “Very well,” Gert said defiantly. He pulled a leather folder from his pocket and tossed it on the table near Frank. “You are right. I am not eighteen. I am twenty-three. I pretended to be younger. I wanted to come to TVI, and it is open only to high school students.”

  “If you had explained, we might have found a way,” Sophie said.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Frank said. He had just opened Gert’s ID folder and noticed a business card tucked behind his identity card. It indicated that Gert Hochsmer was a senior trainee at the Paris branch of Immo-Trust.

  “You—” Jean-Claude shouted. “You are one of the people who are trying to destroy my heritage!”

  Gert gave a snort. “Who cares about worn-out aristocrats like you? The people who have money now are the ones who count. If they want to pay good money for this pile of old rocks, they should be able to!”

  “Speaking of rocks,” Joe said. “You rigged the booby traps? The stone that rolled onto the road, the one that fell from the wall? Those were clever.”

  “Yes, weren’t they?” Gert replied. “They took much thought. And much thought to make sure they injured no one. I am not a barbarian.”

  “I disagree,” Marie-Laure said softly.

  “What about Jean-Claude’s brakes?” Frank said. “He was almost hurt badly.”

  “That was difficult,” Gert said. “I expected he would take his usual ride along the ridge. When I saw him start down the path, I called out to stop him. I did not want him hurt, only frightened.”

  “Fooey!” Joe exploded. “What about trying to run over my brother? You think he wouldn’t have been hurt if that car had hit him?”

  Gert stared at Joe. “What is that to me?” he asked. “I was with you at the church when it happened. How can you accuse me of this?”

  “Then it must have been that woman from Immo-Trust,” Joe continued. “The one you met with secretly at the market.”

  “Madame Aut—” Gert bit back the last part of the name. “She returned to Paris the same day. I am in charge of this project. And I did nothing to hurt Frank or anyone. That would be against my orders.”

  Frank touched Joe’s shoulder and gestured toward the door. T
he two brothers walked out into the square.

  “I think he’s telling the truth,” Frank said.

  “So who took down the trail sign, and who tried to run you down?” Joe protested. “They’ve all got alibis … from me. I tried to do a timetable yesterday morning. Now, where is it?”

  Joe felt in his pants pockets. “Oh, I know. It must be in the jeans I had on yesterday. And I left them in the van. I’ll be right back.”

  Joe loped away. Frank took one of the chairs in the square and sat down to think through the mystery. He had a feeling they were very close to a solution, but what was it?

  Joe returned with a look of puzzlement on his face.

  “What’s up?” Frank asked. “Weren’t the jeans there after all?”

  “Hmm?” Joe said absently. “Oh—no, they were there. I forgot to bring them.”

  “Then what?” Frank insisted.

  “It’s the mileage counter in the van,” Joe said. “Yesterday when we left for Peyrane, it was about to hit ten thousand. And this morning, it’s at ten thousand and eight.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “So what?”

  “After Kevin dropped us off, he drove all the way to the other side of the valley to do some errands,” Joe replied. “Remember? Then he came all the way back to pick us up. So why didn’t any of those miles register on the counter?”

  “Maybe you misread it,” Frank suggested.

  “Uh-uh, no way,” Joe said. “The only explanation is that he didn’t go anywhere. He dropped us at the ocher factory, then sneaked up and changed the trail sign. Then he parked somewhere out of sight, stole a car, and watched for his chance to go after you or me.”

  “Why us?” Frank demanded. “I don’t get it.”

  A little knot of people came out of the community center. Marina noticed the Hardys and walked over.

  “That was so great, this morning,” she said. “You really are detectives. I’m so glad Kevin put you on the case.”

  Frank looked at Joe. “Kevin?” he said. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Marina answered, “I said I wouldn’t tell anybody about you, and I didn’t. But when Kevin was questioning people about Jean-Claude’s bike, I had to tell him. He was really interested, too.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Joe muttered.

  Marina left to rejoin the others. Frank said, “We need to talk to Kevin, right away.”

  The office was still locked. Frank and Joe walked down the lane to Kevin’s cottage. When they knocked on the door, it swung open a crack. They accepted the invitation and went inside. A quick check showed no one in either the upstairs or downstairs rooms. The Hardys started a quick but thorough search.

  “Joe, look at this,” Frank said after a few minutes. He showed Joe two newspaper clippings. One was a map of Africa, marked to show areas that mined diamonds illegally. The other was an article about the UN conference in Paris. A number of the participants were mentioned. The name of Fenton Hardy was circled in blue ink.

  “Impressive,” Joe said. “But look at this!” He whipped his hand out from behind his back. In it was a black ski mask.

  A noise behind them made them spin around. Kevin stood in the doorway. He had a spade in one hand and an old, weathered wooden box in the other. It looked just like the box that had held his ancestor’s hoard of raw diamonds.

  “I think you need—” Frank began.

  With a wild cry, Kevin dropped the box and swung the spade in a shoulder high arc. The edge of the blade glittered as it hurtled toward their necks.

  15

  The Fréhel Treasure

  “Duck!” Frank shouted. He and Joe flung themselves facedown on the floor.

  The spade whistled over their heads and crashed against the stone wall. Dust and fragments of rock showered down on them. The spade clattered to the floor.

  Frank jumped to his feet. The doorway was empty. Frank and Joe dashed out into the lane. Kevin was running down the path to the parking area. He had the wooden box tucked under one arm.

  “Tell Sophie to call the cops,” Frank said quickly. “I’ll go after him.” He sprinted down the lane toward the path. Joe ran in the other direction.

  Frank was more than halfway down the path when he heard the whine of the van’s engine. Dirt and gravel spurted from under the van’s wheels. Kevin accelerated across the parking area toward the track that led outside.

  Manu’s motorcycle was parked where Frank had left it after his ride. The helmet hung from the handlebar. Was the ignition key still inside?

  Frank leaped onto the saddle and grabbed the helmet. His fingers found the key at once. In a series of fluid motions, he donned the helmet, inserted the key, and stood up to kick the starter lever. The motor let out an eager roar. Frank pushed the bike off the kickstand, shoved it in gear, and twisted the throttle full open.

  The bike did a wheelie for half the width of the parking area. A rooster tail of dust followed it. Then the front wheel touched down. Frank crouched forward over the fuel tank and sped down the track after Kevin. The van was out of sight, but the layer of dust floating above the track showed that it was not far ahead.

  The trail curved around the side of the bluff. Frank picked up speed. On the next turn, he canted the bike over so far that the footrest dug a furrow in the dirt. He backed off the throttle a hair. If he took a spill now, Kevin would be home free. Better to play it safe until he had a clear shot at overtaking the van.

  The paved section began just ahead. Frank stood up to soften the jolt, then went back into a crouch and gave it more gas. The powerful motorcycle jumped forward. Around the next curve, the van came in sight. Kevin’s lead of fifty yards got shorter with every second. Soon Frank was only a car length behind. He saw Kevin’s eyes in the rearview mirror of the van. Was he imagining a look of desperation in them?

  A moment later Frank found himself on a straight section of road. A steep bluff ran along one side, like a slanted wall of stone. Along the other was just as steep a drop. Frank moved to the left and opened the throttle full out. His front wheel drew even with Kevin’s rear bumper, then with the rear door.

  Kevin made a sudden swerve to the left, then to the right. With a scream of tortured tires, the van fishtailed in Frank’s direction. Kevin intended to force him off the road, over the cliff!

  Frank grabbed the brake handles and squeezed them urgently. The effect made him feel as if he had run straight into a restraining net. His rear wheel lost traction and started to slide sideways. Instantly he turned the handlebars to the left and applied power. The motorcycle straightened up and straightened out.

  Frank let out the breath he had been holding. He looked ahead. Kevin had widened his lead again. In a minute or less, he would reach the highway.

  Two blue station wagons turned onto the side road and stopped side by side, blocking the way. Red lights revolved on their roofs. The gendarmes! So Joe and Sophie had got through to them in time!

  The van’s brake lights flashed. Kevin swung to the left, as if he meant to make a swift U-turn. Too swift—the van began to skid sideways. The front wheels went off the edge of the road. For a moment Frank thought the van would topple over. But when the dust cleared, it was still upright. Kevin thrust his door open and put one foot on the ground.

  Frank braked to a halt next to him. “Give it up, Kevin,” he called. “You can’t get away.”

  One of the police cars sped up. Two uniformed officers jumped out with automatics in their hands.

  “It looks like you’re right,” Kevin said. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, in plain sight, and waited to be arrested.

  “Diamonds,” Frank said. “Diamonds are the key to the whole case.”

  He and Joe were in the square at Fréhel. The others from TVI had pulled chairs around to ask questions and get answers.

  “You mean the treasure Kevin found?” Siri asked.

  “He didn’t find a treasure,” Joe said. “He only pretended to.”

  “Why?” Antonio
asked.

  “There’s a major push to stop the illegal traffic in diamonds,” Frank explained. “In fact, our dad is at a conference on the subject right now. It’s no trick to smuggle diamonds into a country like France. But once they’re here, how do you sell them? People want to know where they came from. They want proof they’re legitimate.”

  “That’s where Kevin’s scheme comes in,” Joe said, taking up the story. “He claims to find a two-hundred-year-old hoard of raw diamonds. It’s a great story. It hits the news. So when he goes to sell some diamonds, who’s going to ask where they came from? They already know. They saw him and his box of diamonds on TV.”

  “Pretty clever,” Welly remarked.

  “Brilliant,” Frank said. “Nobody knows how many diamonds are in the treasure. As long as he sells them to different people, he can keep doing it for months, even years.”

  Antonio laughed. “It’s like the story about the everfull pasta bowl,” he said. “Only here it’s the ever-full box of diamonds!”

  “So he made up the whole story?” Libby said. “About his mother’s family, and the cottage, and all?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Frank said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if his mother’s family did come from here. Maybe they even lived in that cottage. But once he was here, he heard the legend of the Fréhel treasure. That must have given him the idea. If there was one legendary treasure in the village, why not another?”

  Jean-Claude shook his head. “I couldn’t understand. In all the accounts I had never read of this other treasure. Now I see why. Because it didn’t exist!”

  “Kevin must have been stunned when he heard that we’re detectives,” Frank continued. “And then to see that an American investigator at the Paris conference has the same last name! He must have been sure that Joe and I had been sent here to spy on him.”

  “So he decided to scare us off, whatever it took,” Joe added. “It’s ironic. If he hadn’t, I don’t know if we would ever have suspected him of anything.”