Bayport Buccaneers Read online

  “That explains your posh accent, Joe,” Iola joked.

  “But it doesn’t explain what’s going on,” I said.

  “It’s Buccaneers” Chet said, “the biggest adventure challenge show on TV. You must have heard about it.”

  What can I say? ATAC keeps me and Frank so busy that we don’t have a lot of time for television. “You mean the competitive reality show?” I asked.

  “We’ve heard of it,” Frank said. “Who hasn’t?”

  “But we’ve never watched it,” I admitted. “Is this some kind of publicity stunt for the show?”

  “Oh, man,” Chet said, “I can’t believe you guys don’t know. This is the show! They’re shooting in Bayport this week!”

  “Every couple of episodes, they sail the ship into a new city and set up the game there,” Iola explained. “They’re auditioning local people for the show and shooting over the next few days.”

  “The show’s been a hit all up and down the East Coast,” Chet added. “But the game is so tough that no one has won the big prize yet.”

  “Really? Why not?” Frank asked. I could tell my brainiac brother was interested, and I kinda was too—or I would have been, if I hadn’t been so tired from the Kendallson case.

  “To win the big prize you have to beat out all the other contestants,” Iola said. “Then you have to finish a final obstacle course before the ship’s cannons fire.”

  “A couple of people have finished the course, but not before time ran out,” Chet explained.

  “So they lost?” I said. “That stinks.”

  “Contestants win prizes along the way,” Iola said.

  “Some of the treasure they win is really cool,” added Chet.

  “Treasure?” I asked. Suddenly the show was sounding more interesting.

  “Sure,” Chet said. “If you get to the island phase of the game, you get to dig for real treasure. Some guy won a car last show.”

  “They buried a car?” I asked.

  “Of course not!” Iola said. “They bury small treasure chests containing prize parchments.”

  “Sometimes they give away gold or jewelry, too,” Chet told us. “One woman won enough to put her kid through college.”

  “People take the game very seriously,” Iola added. “Some folks even go into training before trying out.”

  “But I’m betting some people just do it for their fifteen minutes of fame,” I said.

  Frank rubbed his chin. “So it’s a lot like the game shows that are popular in Japan,” he said.

  Ugh! Leave it to my brother to come up with a comparison that you have to be in the nerd club to understand!

  “Yeah. Pretty much,” Chet said, confirming that he was a member of the club too. All the time we’d been talking, the pirate ship had been sailing closer and closer. Now it turned broadside to the beach and fired its guns.

  Kaboom!

  Frank and I both ducked, but no fireballs whizzed over our heads. The rest of the crowd cheered.

  “I was right,” Frank whispered to me. “It must have been a misfire when it shot at us before.”

  I nodded. In our profession you can never be too sure whether something is a coincidence or a serious threat.

  “So,” Iola said after the cheering had died down, “are you and Frank going to try out for the show?”

  “A lot of people from school are going to give it a shot,” added Chet. “Like Marty Sirkin and Daphne Soesbee.”

  “Daphne’s trying out?” Frank said. “I thought she was more a brainy type than an athlete.”

  “The game requires brains as well as brawn,” said Iola. “You have to be a good puzzle solver to pass some of the tests.”

  “What about you, Chet?” I asked. “Are you and Iola going to go for it?”

  Chet shook his head. “I’m doing the armchair athlete thing this time.”

  “Trying out conflicts with my end-of-summer softball schedule,” Iola said. “Otherwise I would. What about you, Joe?”

  I shrugged. “The treasure part sounds interesting, but, to tell you the truth, Frank and I are kind of beat.”

  “We just got back from some heavy dirt riding,” Frank explained.

  “Well, they’re having tryouts tomorrow morning, too. So you can still sign up then if you change your minds,” Iola said, smiling.

  I smiled back. “Yeah, maybe,” I said.

  “We’ll think about it,” said Frank. “Come on, Joe. Let’s go home and hit the showers.”

  “Good idea,” I agreed. “See you both later.”

  By the time we got home, I was more than ready to shower and crash for the night—even though it wasn’t dinnertime yet.

  Mom and Dad were just setting the table as Frank and I walked in the back door.

  “Have fun riding, boys?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah, it was great,” Frank said.

  “Did you have any trouble with the trails?” Dad asked.

  Our father is Fenton Hardy, famous investigator and, like I said before, one of the founders of ATAC. Someone else runs the group now, but Dad still keeps tabs on what’s going on. His question was a kind of code, asking how the mission went.

  “Nope,” I told him. “We had a few bumps along the way, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  Dad nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Are you boys going to shower before supper?” asked Mom. She glanced at our dirt-covered riding clothes.

  “That’s the plan,” I replied.

  Just then Aunt Trudy appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Not so fast,” she said. “Before you go upstairs, there’s something you need to do.” She looked really put out and concerned, which isn’t unusual, because she frets over Frank and me constantly.

  “What’s up, Aunt Trudy?” Frank asked.

  “There’s a shaggy-looking pirate on the doorstep,” she huffed, “and he says he needs to talk to you boys.”

  3 One Last Adventure

  A pirate on the doorstep!

  Joe and I exchanged a furtive glance.

  “Is it Chet, up to one of his pranks?” Joe asked.

  Aunt Trudy shook her head. “Morton I’d know,” she replied. “Whoever this is, I didn’t recognize him. He almost scared the daylights out of me!”

  “Maybe he’s here to see us about a parrot,” I joked.

  “Yeah, Playback is about due for his fiftythousand-squawk checkup,” Joe added. Playback is the parrot we adopted after one of our cases.

  Aunt Trudy shook her head.

  When we got to the front door, sure enough, a ragged-looking pirate was standing there.

  “Who are you supposed to be, Johnny Depp?” Joe asked.

  “Dude, do you really think so?” the pirate asked. Under his long hair, fake beard, and scraggly outfit, he wasn’t much older than Joe and me.

  “So, you came here to audition?” said Joe sarcastically.

  “No,” the pirate replied, “I came here because you’re auditioning.”

  “What do you mean?” Joe and I asked at the same time.

  “I mean you’ve won a free pass through the auditions of Buccaneers” the pirate said. “You get to be on the show!” He reached into his long, gaudy coat and pulled out a pair of tickets emblazoned with a golden Buccaneers logo. The tickets had our names on them.

  “How did we win them?” I asked. “We’ve never even watched the show.”

  The pirate shrugged. “I guess you’ve got friends in high places,” he said. “Oh, and there’s a package that comes with it.” He reached into his coat again and pulled out an envelope. Joe and I knew immediately that it had come from ATAC.

  Joe took the package and nodded toward the stairs, indicating that we should go up to our room and check the assignment right away.

  The pirate courier leaned close and whispered, “A plus on today’s apprehension. C minus on the recovery of stolen goods, though.”

  “Hey, that motorcycle just got a little wet, that’s all,” Joe whispered back.
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  “At least the owners will get it back,” I added. “That’s more than they would have gotten if Kendallson had escaped.”

  The pirate shrugged again. “You know best, dudes,” he said. “Catch you later.” He waved halfheartedly as he turned and left. We closed the door and headed for the stairs.

  “What did the pirate want?” Mom called from the kitchen.

  “Something about that game show that’s come to town,” Joe called back.

  “We’ll tell you about it after our showers,” I added. We sprinted up the stairs and into my room before Mom or Aunt Trudy could ask any further questions.

  The minute the door was closed, Joe ripped open the package and a CD fell out. To anyone else, it would have looked like a normal video game. And, after we’d gotten our information from it, it would reformat itself to play like a regular CD too. But the first time we viewed it, we’d be getting the lowdown on our latest ATAC mission. The label on the disc said BAYPORT BUCCANEERS.

  I turned on the water in the bathroom to drown out any noise while Joe popped the disc into our game system. Immediately the screen filled with colorful images of pirates in swashbuckling action.

  “Cool!” exclaimed Joe.

  “These pirates aren’t actors,” I pointed out. One pirate had glasses, a lady buccaneer had a perm, and several of the cutthroats were wearing wristwatches.

  “For regular people, they’re doing some pretty outrageous stunts,” Joe said.

  The fake pirates swung from ropes, dived underwater for treasure, had swordfights, climbed to a crow’s nest, and did all sorts of other stuff that Stuntmen usually do in pirate movies.

  As the scenes formed into a collage of wall-to-wall action, a skull and crossbones appeared on the screen. The skull zoomed forward, and, as it did, the title “Bayport Buccaneers” appeared.

  An ATAC mission controller’s voice said, “As you might be aware, the TV show Buccaneers has come to Bayport to film part of its new season. The show casts ordinary people in the roles of pirates competing for treasure.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Joe said, “we know. Get on with the assignment!”

  My brother! He’d barely heard of the show an hour ago, but to hear him talk, you’d think he’d been watching it all his life.

  The mission controller continued. “Competitors from all over the country are lining up to try to win the show’s two-million-dollar top prize. Unfortunately that prize may have lured trouble to the show as well.

  “Recently, while filming in New Bedford, Massachusetts, the show’s prop and set designer, Greg Olson, drowned while setting up a Jet Ski stunt. While the coroner ruled Olson’s death an accident, the circumstances of the drowning remain suspicious. Since then more mysterious ‘accidents’ have plagued the show. Aside from Olson, no one has been hurt yet, and ATAC would like to keep it that way.”

  “I imagine the contestants would like to keep it that way too,” I said.

  “UAN, the network airing Buccaneers, has asked ATAC to look into these incidents,” the controller continued. “The tickets sent with this disc allow you to bypass the show auditions and compete in the game. Your assignment is to mingle with the other contestants, find out whether the accidents are a case of sabotage, and—if they are—stop them. Good luck. This disc will reformat in five seconds.”

  Joe turned off the player.

  “Looks like we’re going to be TV stars, bro,” he said, grinning.

  I scowled. “We’ll have to work twice as hard to stay undercover with millions of people watching.”

  Joe scratched his head. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “Leave it to my big brother to take all the fun out of stardom!”

  I hooked my thumb at the bathroom. “You hit the shower while I do some research,” I told him. “We need to maintain our cover with the family.”

  “Check,” Joe agreed. “What are we gonna tell them about the show?”

  “As much of the truth as we can get away with,” I replied.

  Fifteen minutes later we’d rinsed off and were ready for dinner. I’d uncovered some info about the show so we wouldn’t look completely ignorant when we arrived on the set. Unfortunately I didn’t turn up anything more about the accidents or Olson’s death. I suppose the network had been doing its best to keep them quiet. But that meant Joe and I would be starting from scratch when we got to the set.

  We sat down at the dinner table. “So, what’s this about a game show?” Aunt Trudy asked after the food had been served.

  “It’s really cool,” I said. “We won tickets to be on the show.”

  “That’s great,” Mom said. “What’s it called?”

  “Buccaneers” I said. “It’s a reality show.”

  “They’re shooting here in Bayport over the next couple of days,” Joe added. “Starting tonight.”

  Mom frowned. “That’s kind of last-minute notice, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “Our tickets got lost somehow. That’s why they sent that guy in the pirate costume down here, special delivery.”

  “So,” said Mom thoughtfully, “is it just tonight that you’ll be sitting in the audience?”

  “Mom,” Joe said, “we’re not going to be sitting in the audience. We’re going to be competing.”

  “Wait a minute,” Aunt Trudy put in. “I saw something about that show on Confidential Edition. People have gotten hurt doing that show. They also said that there’s a crime wave that follows the production around. Did you know that, until recently, the cities that have hosted the show reported a fifty percent jump in jewelry store robberies? Those people pretending to be pirates are taking themselves a bit too seriously, if you ask me.”

  Joe looked like he might blow his top. “Aunt Trudy,” he said, “you can’t believe everything you hear on those tabloid TV shows.”

  I kicked Joe under the table, trying to get him to calm down. Mom and Aunt Trudy were sure to gang up on us if we lost our cool. “Competing on the show shouldn’t be any more dangerous than an average track meet,” I said, fibbing. “And Joe and I compete in track events at school all the time.”

  Mom wrung her hands. “That’s just what I’m worried about, boys.”

  “Track?” asked Joe.

  “No,” Mom replied, “school. School’s starting soon. Rather than running around playing pirates, you really should be getting ready for the new year.”

  “But, Mom,” Joe protested, “it’s still summer!”

  “And the shoot is only for a couple of days,” I added.

  “And we could win some prizes,” Joe concluded.

  “I agree with you, Laura,” Aunt Trudy said. “It’s too close to school for the boys to be starting an adventure like this. Besides, they could be hurt.”

  Nightmare! Mom and Aunt Trudy were ganging up on us.

  Sure, they meant well, but if we couldn’t compete in the show, there was no telling what kind of trouble might happen! Fortunately, at just that moment, Dad cleared his throat.

  “I’m with the boys,” he said. “It’s still summer, and they should have some fun while they can.”

  Good old Dad! He doesn’t chime in much, so when he does, it really counts.

  Mom slowly nodded. “All right,” she agreed. “Go. Have some fun on your TV show. But be careful.”

  Yes!

  “You bet we’ll be careful,” I assured her.

  “We always are,” added Joe.

  “And keep your eye out for real pirates,” Aunt Trudy warned. “I mean, people who are taking the game too seriously.”

  Just at that moment our parrot Playback flew into the room. “Real pirates!” he cawed. “Real pirates!” He settled down on his perch in the corner as the rest of us finished our meal.

  Our excitement over the new mission made us forget our exhaustion completely, and Joe and I couldn’t wait to get going. But wolfing down dinner wouldn’t have made Mom or Aunt Trudy any less worried. So we sat, ate, and made polite conversation, just like a
ny normal night in the Hardy household. As soon as the dishes were cleared and in the dishwasher, we revved up our bikes and headed downtown.

  We pulled up in the big city park next to the dock where they’d tied up the fake pirate ship. The ship had looked cool sailing into the bay, but it was even more impressive up close. It was half as long as a football field and had three big masts with sails the size of circus tents. Rows of cannons stuck out of holes in its sides. The topmost mast, with its enormous pirate flag, looked to be a hundred feet tall.

  “Welcome to Hollywood, Bayport style,” Joe said as we parked our bikes.

  “It’ll be almost like starring in a movie,” I replied, thinking of the clips we’d seen on the assignment disc.

  Together we walked toward the crowd gathered in front of the dock near the ship. Hundreds of people were milling around, wanting to get onto the show. On the far side of the crowd one banner read AUDITIONS and another read QUALIFIERS. There were a lot more people in the auditions line.

  Normally that’s where Joe and I would have had to go, to try out for the show along with everyone else in Bayport. But thanks to ATAC, we got to skip that part. “Qualifier” was printed in big letters on the front of our tickets, right next to our names. We high-fived each other and headed for the second banner.

  “Uh-oh,” Joe said as we walked. “I see trouble.”

  Sure enough, lurking among the crowd of contestants was our archenemy, Brian Conrad.

  4 Eating Crow’s Nest

  Brian Conrad—just what we didn’t need. But he always seems to turn up wherever Frank and I go. The only good thing about Brian is his sister, Belinda. She’s a babe, and she has a serious crush on Frank. Unfortunately she wasn’t with Brian at the docks.

  There were a lot of people standing in line to try out, but Brian wasn’t with them. He was standing in the line marked QUALIFIERS—the same line Frank and I were headed for.

  Naturally, since we didn’t want to talk to him, he spotted us right away.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Hardy dweebs,” he said.