Past and Present Danger Read online

  “Not really, Dad,” Joe protested. “We have to change, and then we’re supposed to meet Iola and Callie in thirty minutes.”

  “That’s plenty of time,” Fenton said cheerfully. “Will we see you again while you’re in town, Clayton?”

  “Naturally,” Clayton replied. “I’m on vacation. Besides, Gertrude has promised to show me around a bit. I’ll call you in about an hour,” he said to Aunt Gertrude.

  Frank and Joe exchanged glances, then watched as Clayton Silvers drove off in his car. A few moments later their father and Mr. Dean slipped into Dean’s car and drove away.

  “Well, boys, go towel off, and then let’s get to those dishes.”

  “Okay, Aunt Gertrude,” Joe replied. “We’ll be right there.”

  “We’ve got to figure out what Mr. Silvers is up to,” Frank said when they were upstairs changing. “I’m worried because Aunt Gertrude is hanging out with him, and he has two guys stalking him.”

  “Let’s go hang out with Iola and Callie,” Joe said. “Then maybe we’ll be able to figure out what to do next.”

  “Boys!” their aunt called from the kitchen.

  Frank sighed heavily. “Okay,” he replied. “Let’s get those dishes done, or we’ll be late.”

  Iola Morton and Callie Shaw had been dating Joe and Frank Hardy for a while. They were used to the boys chasing bad guys and solving crimes. Several times they had been right in the middle of an adventure and helped the Hardys. So they weren’t surprised when the boys arrived fifteen minutes late to pick them up at Callie’s house.

  “Well, it’s stopped raining at least,” Callie told Frank as she stepped out onto her front porch.

  “Sorry,” Frank said as he kissed Callie hello.

  Iola slipped her arms around Joe’s waist. “What took you so long?” she asked.

  The boys were bringing them up to date on the day’s events and were just at the part about spotting the white van, when one pulled up in front of Callie’s house.

  Instantly, Frank and Joe started pushing the girls back toward the front door.

  “Get inside, quick!” Joe ordered.

  “What for?” Iola insisted.

  “That truck,” Frank said.

  Callie glanced at the van. “Oh, you mean the cable guys?”

  As the van came to a stop, the Hardys noticed the words printed on the side.

  “Stellar Dish Television,” Frank said aloud.

  “Problems with your cable?” Joe asked.

  “No,” Callie explained. “These guys sell the latest in radar dish TV service. They’re new, their prices are low, and everybody’s raving about them.”

  “Why were you guys so nervous about them?” Iola asked.

  The service installer got out of the truck, and the boys could see he wasn’t either of the men they had encountered.

  “We’ll explain on the way to the park,” Frank said.

  “You still want to play soccer?” Callie asked.

  “Sure,” Joe said. “Unless you’re afraid you’ll lose and want to forfeit the game.”

  Iola playfully punched Joe in the shoulder. “Not a chance, hot shot. Let’s go.”

  By the time they reached the park, the Hardys had finished telling the girls about the white van and the thugs they’d fought.

  “Do you guys have a sign over your house?” Iola teased. “Mysteries Are Us. No matter what, someone is always dropping a case in your laps.”

  Joe grinned devilishly. “It’s tough being both a crime and a babe magnet.”

  Iola took a swing at his shoulder, but the younger Hardy hopped out of the way.

  “Can you trust this Clayton Silvers?” Callie asked.

  “Time will tell,” Frank replied cheerfully. “For now, let’s go play.”

  Though the ground was muddy, the foursome played soccer for half an hour and remained relatively clean. Then it started raining again.

  “There goes the game,” Frank said after they’d all piled into the van to get out of the wet.

  “And we were winning,” Iola teased.

  “Tied,” Joe insisted.

  “Yeah, right.” Iola playfully shook her head to spray Joe with the water from her hair.

  “Anybody hungry?” Callie asked.

  “Not after our lunch,” Frank replied. “But I could go for something to drink.”

  “Let’s go to Pizza Palace,” Iola suggested.

  “Great,” said Joe. “But let’s make a stop at the Bayport Times on the way.”

  “Why?” Frank asked.

  “A guy in my orld history class works there as an intern,” Joe explained. “Maybe he can give us some information on another reporter. You girls mind?”

  Callie and Iola answered in unison, “Do we ever?”

  Frank pulled the van into the small parking lot of one of Bayport’s major newspapers. The four slightly damp teenagers pushed through the glass doors and went up the staircase to the second-floor offices of the Bayport Times.

  One long counter separated the entryway from the rest of the large, main room. There was one small private office on the right side of the room.

  Six desks were set up around the main area, each covered with papers, letters, and computers. Four of the desks were occupied by someone either typing or talking on the phone. A line of four-drawer file cabinets ran along one wall, with books and newspapers piled on top.

  There was a tall, sickly-looking green plant standing in front of the large window that overlooked the parking lot. It was the only decoration in the room. Everything else was practical and messy.

  A thin teen with his long hair done up in braids walked over to the counter.

  “Hey, Joe,” he said cheerfully. “What brings you here?”

  “Hey, Darryl,” Joe said, giving him a high-five. “We came to pick your brain.”

  “For you, Frank, or the lovely ladies?” Darryl flashed a winning smile.

  “Us,” Joe replied dryly.

  “Too bad,” Darryl teased. “Seriously, you guys on to something?”

  “Could be,” Frank replied. “What do you know about a reporter named Clayton Silvers?”

  “Take ’Em Down Silvers?” Darryl looked very excited. “I know the good and the bad.”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked.

  Darryl told them to wait a minute, then he ran over to one of the file cabinets. He extracted a folder and a few seconds later laid it open in front of the Hardys. The folder was filled with newspaper clippings, and all of them appeared to have been written by Clayton Silvers.

  “I’ve followed his career for the past three years,” Darryl said. “He was the best undercover, crime-stopping, conspiracy-busting reporter on the East Coast. The top dog!”

  “So we’ve heard,” Joe said.

  “He brought down mobsters as well as crooked politicians and corporations. Nothing and nobody was too big for him.” Darryl spread out a few of the clippings so the Hardys, Callie, and Iola could read the headlines. “I wanted to be just like him. He cost some powerful folks some serious green. Guess he made some, too.”

  Frank looked up from one of the clippings to see that Darryl had lost his enthusiasm. “What do you mean?”

  Darryl pulled a clipping from the bottom of the pile and spread it out on the counter. The bold black type spelled out an unbelievable accusation. “‘Silvers Is Tarnished,’” Darryl quoted without looking at the paper. “‘Well-known reporter accused of taking bribes.’”

  “Bribes for what?” Callie asked.

  “They found proof he had this big Swiss bank account,” Darryl replied sadly. “It contained more than a hundred thousand dollars he’d taken as payment to prove only certain people were dirty.”

  “You mean he lied in his articles?” Joe said.

  “No,” Darryl explained. “People paid him to go after their opponents or business rivals. They’d even given him tips and leads. He made their rivals look bad, so his clients looked good.”

  �
��This is too wild!” Joe Hardy exclaimed. “How are we going to tell Aunt Gertrude that her old, best friend … is a crook?”

  5

  Dangerous Curves

  “You said they found proof of all this?” Frank Hardy asked Darryl.

  The young newspaper intern shrugged. “They found enough evidence to accuse him, write the articles, and get him fired,” Darryl said. “But not enough to go to court.”

  “Funny Dad didn’t know about any of this,” Frank said. “He’s in and out of Washington on cases, and he has a lot of contacts there.”

  “Maybe he did know,” Joe said. “I thought he gave Mr. Silvers a strange look when he wouldn’t talk about his work.”

  “Are you going to tell your aunt?” Callie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Frank replied. “We don’t want to hurt her. Besides, no one’s proved he did these things.”

  “But what about the guys following him?” Joe asked once they were back in the van. “Mr. Silvers is into something here in Bayport, and it could get Aunt Gertrude hurt.”

  “So, let’s find out what it is,” Frank said evenly. “And the best way is to talk to Mr. Silvers face-to-face.”

  Joe smiled. “We go to his hotel?”

  Frank nodded and put the van into gear. “As soon as we drop off Callie and Iola.”

  “Why can’t we come with you?” Iola asked.

  “We don’t know him all that well,” Frank explained. “It may be hard to get him to talk. But he sure won’t talk if there’s a crowd.”

  The girls shrugged with disappointment but finally agreed.

  “One of these days,” Iola said, “we’ll tackle our own mystery. Then we’ll be leaving you guys behind.”

  “Sherlock Shaw and Morton, P.I.” Joe grinned devilishly. “I like it.”

  The four of them burst out laughing as Frank drove them through the puddled streets of Bayport.

  It was three-thirty by the time Frank and Joe pulled up in front of the Bayport Plaza Hotel. The hotel was one of the best in town. All red brick, white trim, and large windows, the six-story building sat on a hill in the center of town, surrounded by upscale stores and restaurants. The lobby had Persian rugs and waxed oak floors, with white marble pillars and crystal chandeliers.

  “What room did he say he was in?” Joe asked as they approached the front desk.

  “Five-fifteen, I think,” Frank replied.

  “We’d like to see Mr. Silvers,” Joe told the clerk. “He’s in—”

  “No, he’s not,” the man replied matter-of-factly.

  Joe leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

  “Mr. Silvers is not in.” The man adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and stared at the boys ith a bored expression. The brass tag on his maroon jacket read, Albert Tally, Assistant Manager. “Would you like to leave a message?”

  “How do you know he’s not in?” Frank asked patiently.

  “Because he went out a little while ago. Would you like to—”

  “Do you know where he—”

  “No,” Mr. Tally said dryly. “Would you—”

  “It’s really important that we—”

  “I’m sure it is,” the assistant manager said, interrupting Joe for the second time. “But I cannot give you any information. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “That’s too bad,” Frank said. “He was waiting for some important information from our father.”

  “And who would that be?” Mr. Tally asked in a dry tone.

  “Fenton Hardy,” Frank replied. “We’ll just have to tell Dad—”

  The eyes behind the gold-rim glasses lit up. “You’re Mr. Hardy’s sons?”

  “Yes,” Joe said. “I’m Joe, he’s Frank.”

  “I am so sorry,” the assistant manager said with more energy. “I didn’t realize this was business-related. I’ve only been here a short while, but I hear your father has done this hotel a world of good in the past. Saved us from a most embarrassing situation. And now … well, we don’t need to talk about that, do we?”

  Joe looked puzzled. “No, I guess we don’t.”

  “Mr. Silvers left about thirty minutes ago with a friend,” the assistant manager said.

  “Did you see this friend?” Joe asked with some annoyance.

  “Oh, yes.” Mr. Tally glanced around suspiciously, then leaned in closer to the boys. “I’ve been keeping an eye on his comings and goings. Low profile, of course. She was middle-aged with light brown hair,” Mr. Tally said. “The friend was wearing cream-colored slacks with a matching blouse and a cocoa-colored jacket.”

  “Aunt Gertrude!” Joe exclaimed.

  “Oh really?” the assistant manager mused. “Is Mr. Silvers a suspect in—”

  “No,” Frank interrupted. “He’s working on a case with our dad.”

  “Oh …” The assistant manager looked puzzled. “Your father didn’t mention that earlier when he told me—”

  “Our dad was here?” Joe asked.

  “Just for a little while, but he—”

  “You don’t know where Mr. Silvers went, do you?” Frank cut in.

  “No, but he asked about the view from the Bayport Sounds area, then drove off in his friend’s car.”

  “Thanks,” Frank said. “Come on, Joe.”

  “I wonder why Dad came to see Mr. Silvers,” Joe said as they jumped into the van.

  “Maybe he wanted to ask him about that mess in Washington,” Frank speculated. “Maybe he thought he could help clear him.”

  “Could be,” Joe said, but he was not convinced.

  Frank drove along the main street for several blocks, then turned left and took the road that led east toward the shore. Bayport Sounds was a two-mile collection of beach and small houses that commanded a great view of the bay. Only a few of them were inhabited year-round. Most were summer homes or vacation rentals.

  “If Mr. Silvers is staying at the hotel, why would he come out this way?” Joe asked after about ten minutes of silence.

  “There’s a cliffside view that attracts a lot of tourists during the summer,” Frank replied. “Remember, Aunt Gertrude wanted to show him around. That would be a place to start. Keep an eye out for Aunt Gertrude’s car.”

  Just then a Land Rover came roaring down the highway, going in the opposite direction. As the vehicle passed them, Frank noticed a white cardboard box of doughnuts on the dashboard and, behind the wheel, the dark-skinned assailant.

  “That was the guy in the van who nearly ran you over earlier!” Frank exclaimed. “And it looked like the other guy was with him.”

  Joe twisted around to catch a glimpse of the departing vehicle. He could just make out the first three digits of the license plate before it was out of sight. “Six five three was all I could get,” he told Frank. “Should we go after them?”

  “No,” Frank replied. “They’re going too fast, and by the time we turn around they’ll be gone.”

  “You’re right,” Joe agreed. “Let’s hope they didn’t find Silvers and Aunt Gertrude already.”

  The boys rode silently for several more minutes, hoping they wouldn’t find that their aunt and her friend had been in the Land Rover, victims of the two attackers.

  Just as Frank was ready to turn around and head back to town, Joe called out, “There it is!” He was pointing to Aunt Gertrude’s midsize car sitting in a parking lot near a cliffside lookout.

  Frank pulled into the parking area and brought the van to a halt next to the car. There were no other cars in the small lot, but there was no sign of their aunt or Silvers, either.

  A narrow winding path led up a sandy incline to the top of the cliff. Waist-high grass and shrubs, pale and thick, bordered both sides of the pathway. Frank and Joe ran up the hill, glancing from side to side for any signs of danger or a struggle. Had the thugs already found their aunt and Clayton Silvers? Had they harmed her in an attempt to kidnap Clayton? All this and other frightening images hammered at them until they reached the plateau.

 
Their aunt and Clayton Silvers stood about fifteen feet ahead of them, staring out over a long stretch of beach and some of the homes below. Frank and Joe breathed a sigh of relief. Everything looked fine, until they started toward the couple. Then they noticed that Clayton as scanning the area with more than a tourist’s interest. He had a pair of high-powered binoculars in his hands.

  “I’ve got to locate them, but they could be anywhere,” the boys heard him say. “Normal and harmless looking, until it’s too late.”

  “Until what’s too late?” Frank asked.

  Aunt Gertrude jumped from fright and grabbed Clayton’s arm. She released a deep sigh when she saw the boys. “My goodness, you scared the life out of me,” she scolded. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  The boys offered their apologies.

  “Why are you boys up here?” she asked. “Did you come up with Callie and Iola?”

  “We were just driving around,” Joe replied, attempting nonchalance. “We spotted your car and decided to come say hello.”

  Gertrude Hardy studied her nephew for a few seconds, then glanced at Clayton. “They’re just like their father,” she told him. “They never could lie to me.” She turned back to the boys. “Did you think I needed a chaperon?”

  “No,” Joe protested. “We’re just—”

  “Don’t bother, Joe,” Frank told his younger brother. “Mr. Silvers will find out that we stopped by his hotel, looking for him.”

  Clayton Silvers frowned.

  “A few things have happened today,” Frank continued. “And we felt … we needed to talk to you.”

  The boys told their aunt and her friend about spotting the van outside their house, how it had nearly run them down, and what they learned at the newspaper.

  Joe turned to their aunt. “We didn’t want you to learn about any of this before we talked to him.”

  “I knew about it,” Aunt Gertrude said calmly.

  “You did?” Joe exclaimed. “But—”

  “You must really think me an awful dullard,” she told them. A cold, damp wind blew in off the water. Aunt Gertrude pulled her jacket tighter around her. “Can we have this discussion in the car?” she asked.