The Rocky Road to Revenge Read online

  Joe dug into a stack of pancakes, which he had drenched with maple syrup. It was ten o’clock now, and the mess hall was empty. Joe read through a section of the newspaper that covered the Moondance Pass area.

  Soon Frank approached the table, a plate of bacon and eggs in his hand.

  “I see you’re having some pancakes with your syrup,” Frank joked as he sat down.

  “Mmm,” Joe said with a full mouth. Breakfast was too serious to joke about, he decided.

  Before long, Terry made it over to the table, carrying a bowl of cereal topped with banana slices. “I just called the police again,” she reported. “They say there’s still no news on Mr. Robinson. I guess Silver Crest can get by a few days without him, but I’m awfully worried.”

  “Me, too,” Joe said.

  “Me three,” Frank added.

  Terry looked at Frank, then Joe, with a thoughtful expression. “I know something about you guys that I’m not supposed to know,” she said.

  Frank took a forkful of eggs. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “That you’re detectives,” Terry said. “Or at least that you do some detective work now and then. Word gets around school.”

  Frank and Joe were, in fact, detectives, but they tried to keep it quiet.

  “Maybe it’s true,” Joe said, giving Terry a playful glance, “maybe it’s not.”

  “Well, if it is true,” Terry said, “what would you guys say to looking into Mr. Robinson’s disappearance? Between you, me, and the lamppost, I don’t have a lot of faith in the local police. And this is starting to look like a big problem. Clay Robinson could be dead, or he could be in the hands of somebody really dangerous. Or maybe he’s running away from someone who’s after him.”

  Joe had been thinking the same thing. Maybe he and Frank should start digging around to see what they could uncover. True, it would cut into their vacation, but the brothers were drawn to mysteries the way a moth is drawn to flame. Besides, a man’s life might be at stake.

  Joe looked at his brother, and Frank gave a nod. “Okay, we’re on the case,” Joe told Terry.

  “Thank you!” Terry cried.

  “Might as well start right now,” Frank said. “Does the paper say anything about Robinson?” he asked Joe. “Sergeant Bunt said he would put something in there.”

  “Yes, there’s a short article on Robinson’s disappearance,” Joe said. “Basically, it just reports the information we gave Bunt. Most of the paper is devoted to that mysterious thing in the sky.”

  “What do they say about it?” Frank asked.

  “A reporter interviewed Alastair Sykes last night,” Joe said. “He checked with all the nearby air-traffic centers, and they all claimed there was no commercial aircraft flying in the area at the moment the orange thing appeared. He also checked with several meteorologists, and none of them could identify the description he gave them as being any natural phenomenon they were familiar with.”

  “Weird,” Terry remarked.

  Joe finished his last bite of pancake. “There’s another interesting detail. Someone at the paper told Sykes about Robinson’s disappearance—the abandoned car, the whole thing. Sykes claims Robinson’s vanishing has all the earmarks of an alien abduction.”

  Terry rolled her eyes. “Not surprising. Sykes has aliens on the brain.”

  Frank thought a moment. “Okay, the first thing for us to consider is who would have a motive for either harming, kidnapping, or killing Clay Robinson.”

  “We know that a lot of people in town are angry about his development project,” Joe said, “Especially that guy Max Jagowitz. And we know Bev and Myra hold a grudge against Robinson because he fired them.”

  Frank put down his fork. “We know Robinson disappeared somewhere between the time he left the gas station, which was around nine-ten, and when we found his Jeep, which was at ten-twenty.”

  “We saw Bev and Myra on the road shortly before then,” Joe added. “They could have gotten to him. And we saw Jagowitz get into his car not too long after Robinson dropped us off. He could also have gotten to him in that time frame.”

  “And we saw Alastair Sykes get into his car right after Jagowitz left,” Frank pointed out. “Which means he could fit into the time frame as well.”

  “Why are you concerned about Sykes?” Terry asked.

  “Two highly unusual things happened last night,” Frank stated. “The orange glow and Robinson’s disappearance. Sergeant Bunt thought they might be related, and he may be right. Now, I don’t believe the events are related in the way Sykes claims. But I believe he might want us to think they are.”

  “What are you getting at?” Joe asked.

  “It seems important to Sykes that people take his work seriously,” Frank said. “That’s why he was getting those forms filled out last night. Let’s say that after he left the downtown area, he passed Robinson on that deserted road. And let’s say he realized if he could make Robinson disappear for a while, it would look as if Robinson had been abducted by aliens. That would mean the orange glow could possibly be an alien spacecraft. If all of these things were true, then people might take him more seriously.”

  Joe grinned. “That sounds like something I might come up with.”

  “I admit it’s a bit far-fetched,” Frank said, “but I’d like to check it out anyway.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Terry said, “You know, it makes you wonder, I’ve been hearing about this alien stuff for years, and that light was really otherworldly. I seriously doubt Mr. Robinson was abducted by aliens last night, but could that have been an alien spacecraft we saw?”

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  “No,” Frank countered.

  “Look,” Joe said, “I used to think all this alien stuff was a bunch of nonsense, too. But now I’m not so sure. Recently scientists found a rock that had fallen from Mars several thousand years ago. And they found fossils of bacteria in that rock. Bacteria are a life-form!”

  “Some scientists say they’re bacteria,” Frank pointed out. “Others disagree.”

  “Maybe it is or maybe it isn’t,” Joe said, “but it really opened my mind to the possibility that there is alien life out there somewhere. And then what about all the UFO sightings? There have been hundreds of unexplained sightings. What we saw last night was technically a sighting, you know.”

  “That’s true,” Terry said. “And some of these sightings have been made by very reliable sources. In World War Two, fighter pilots saw mysterious fiery glows outside their planes. And an astronaut saw something like it on one of the first manned space flights.”

  “There are explanations for these things,” Frank said.

  “But look—” Joe started.

  “The fact is,” Frank continued, “there is no real evidence that we have ever been visited by aliens. If there was an authentic photograph or a piece of material from one of these ships, it would be a different story. But there’s nothing.”

  “There’s no hard evidence that we know about,” Joe argued. “But a lot of people think the government has the evidence and is keeping it a secret.”

  “Okay,” Frank said, breaking a piece of bacon in half. “For now why don’t we agree to disagree on this?”

  Joe let out a long breath. Frank refused to believe in anything unless the evidence was set down right in front of him.

  “All right,” Joe said, “let’s get to work. First, why don’t we pay a visit to Alastair Sykes?”

  “I can give you directions to his house,” Terry said. “I’d take you there myself, but I’ve got to take another group on the river in about an hour. I am free this afternoon. How about I take you up to Moondance Peak? The view from there is awesome.”

  After finishing breakfast, the Hardys borrowed Robinson’s Jeep and set off down the highway. Since they had flown into Colorado, Frank and Joe were without their trusty van, but the Jeep was especially good for maneuvering in the rugged terrain.

  “Look at that,�
� Joe said, leaning out the passenger window. By daylight the mountains were magnificent. They stretched in every direction, some of them sloping gently, and others rising into high, jagged peaks. Covered with evergreen trees, moss, and dirt, every mountain was distinctive and looked like a colorful artistic creation.

  Following Terry’s directions, Frank soon came to a house halfway up a small mountain. It was a three-story structure with a sky blue wooden exterior.

  Frank parked the Jeep, and the Hardys approached the front door. There was an intercom box, which seemed odd for such an old home. Frank pushed the buzzer. “Hello,” an electronically amplified voice said.

  Frank assumed the voice belonged to Sykes. “Hi, this is Frank and Joe Hardy,” Frank told the box. “We filled out forms for you last night.”

  The front door buzzed, opening the door, and the Hardys entered the house. They stood in a hallway with family photographs lining one wall. Adjoining the hall was a living room, decorated with antique furniture. The place was nice but a bit dusty.

  At first no one seemed to be around, but then Joe noticed someone—or something—in the living room. Joe felt his jaw drop open. “Whoa,” he whispered.

  Sitting on a sofa was some sort of creature. Its body vaguely resembled that of a human, except its flesh was gray and hairless. The head was shaped like an upside-down pear. The only features on the face were two large black, unblinking eyes.

  5 Visitors

  * * *

  Joe took a few steps into the living room, focusing on the creature. Then he stopped. He thought he saw the creature’s head move, but then realized it might have been shifting light slanting in through a window.

  “Frank, what in the world is this?” Joe whispered.

  Frank stepped into the living room and approached the creature slowly. He reached out and touched the creature’s arm. He turned to Joe. “I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not real. It’s made of rubber.”

  “It could have fooled me,” Joe said.

  There was a chuckle, and both Hardys turned to see Alastair Sykes watching them from the hallway. “I see you met my buddy Felix,” he said. “He was used in a Hollywood movie and I bought him a few years back at an auction. He’s designed to resemble the type of alien that many people have claimed to have seen. I live alone in this big house, and I guess he keeps me company. Now, what can I do for you fellows?”

  Sykes was dressed casually in khakis and a pullover sweater. He seemed pleased the Hardys were there.

  Joe stuck his hands in his pockets, hoping he’d appear to be just a curious teenager. He didn’t want Sykes to know he and Frank were investigating Robinson’s disappearance.

  “We wanted to hear a little more about your work,” Joe said.

  Sykes adjusted his glasses. “I’m pretty busy today, but I guess I can find some time. Follow me.”

  Sykes led the Hardys along the hallway toward the back of the house to a large room that had no resemblance to the rest of the house. It was spotlessly clean and was fitted out with all sorts of high-tech equipment. Joe noticed several computers and what appeared to be very sophisticated audio decks. Hung on one wall was a vast chart of the Milky Way.

  “I had this room added on a few years back,” Sykes said proudly. “Welcome to my laboratory.”

  Frank realized things were moving in the room. Waves wriggled by on a computer screen, digital numbers shifted on several decks, and a printer was spewing out an unending sheet of paper that folded itself on the floor. A faint sound of static buzzed throughout the room.

  “Laboratory for what?” Frank asked.

  Sykes fixed his magnified eyes on Frank. “For communicating with extraterrestrials. Though I prefer to call them Visitors. It sounds friendlier. Of course, I don’t know yet if they’re friendly or not, but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I thought you said you communicated with them,” Frank commented.

  “No, I am attempting to communicate with them,” Sykes said. “I’m a radio astronomer, you see. I used to work in the SETI program.”

  “I’ve read about SETI,” Joe said, bending to glance at a piece of equipment. “It stands for Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, right?”

  “Correct,” Sykes said. “SETI programs have been around since the sixties. Most of them are based in various universities and observatories around the world. Here, please take a look.”

  Sykes indicated a large window. Both Hardys looked outside. A little way up the mountain was a white device that resembled a television satellite dish, but larger.

  “SETI programs utilize radio astronomy,” Sykes said, “and what you’re looking at is a radio telescope. You see, the largest optical telescopes don’t show enough for us to determine if there are alien civilizations in the far reaches of the universe. So to find these civilizations, we don’t look. We listen.”

  “How will these telescopes find those civilizations?” Frank asked.

  “If the civilizations are technologically advanced,” Sykes said, “chances are they’re sending out some kind of radio waves, just as we do when we broadcast television and radio programs. And, you see, radio telescopes are capable of receiving these signals from great distances. There’s a radio telescope in Puerto Rico that can receive waves from a distance of twenty-four-thousand light-years. That’s almost a hundred and fifty billion miles!”

  “How will you know if you’ve received an alien signal?” Joe asked.

  Sykes stole a look at the spewing paper, then turned back to the Hardys. “Good question. You see, there’re all kinds of random noises in space. In fact, that’s what this static sound is that you’re hearing. But if we hear a sound with a repeating pattern, we can be fairly certain it’s a wave that has been created by some form of civilization.”

  Joe thought this was fascinating. The idea of actually making contact with alien beings filled him with wonder. “But SETI programs have never picked up anything from aliens,” he said. “Have they?”

  Sykes shook his head. “Alas, not yet.”

  Of course not, Frank thought. Unlike Joe, he felt there was little chance anyone would be communicating with ETs anytime soon. But he was interested in Sykes and his research because the man might somehow be connected to Robinson’s disappearance.

  “Why did you leave the SETI program?” Frank asked.

  Sykes sat in a swivel chair. “I was let go a few years back when the government pulled the plug on most of SETI’s funding. But I was planning to quit anyway.”

  “Why?” Frank said.

  “There’s overwhelming evidence that ‘Visitors’ have been exploring earth for centuries,” Sykes said. “Yet the governments of the world, especially ours, consistently deny this evidence. They even go to great lengths to cover it up.”

  “Why would the government do that?” Joe asked.

  “Because,” Sykes said, fixing his magnified eyes on Joe, “these Visitors would have very sophisticated technology, which the government would love to get its hands on for military purposes. For this reason I think ETs avoid communicating with SETI because they know the government would immediately rush in and take over the investigation.”

  “So you feel,” Frank said, “the ETs would be more likely to communicate with an independent scientist like yourself. Someone not connected to any large organization?”

  “Exactly,” Sykes said excitedly.

  “Well, your equipment is certainly nice,” Frank said, “but isn’t it too small for this kind of research?”

  “For picking up signals from the far reaches of space, yes,” Sykes said. “But not for making contact with Visitors already in our neighborhood, so to speak. The telescope in my backyard works fine for that. As long as they’re somewhere below the exosphere, they can find me and send a signal. And there’s evidence they’re in the neighborhood frequently.”

  “How will they know they can trust you?” Frank asked. He wasn’t sure if he should burst out laughing or pretend
to believe what Sykes was saying.

  “Because,” Sykes said, “unlike the SETI program, I’m not just listening—I’m talking. You see, I’ve devised a language for communicating with these Visitors.”

  Sykes paused to fix his gaze on Frank and Joe before he continued. “If they’ve come this far, obviously their technology and intelligence will be sophisticated enough to decipher my language. When I suspect they might be listening, I send out messages.”

  Frank looked around the lab. “Who pays for all this stuff?”

  Sykes showed a modest smile. “A very generous and brilliant person by the name of Alastair Sykes. I pay for it myself. My great-grandfather made a large fortune during the old Colorado mining days. Both my parents have passed on, and since I was an only child their money has come to me. This money is what I live on, and it’s allowed me to buy all these expensive toys. But unfortunately . . .” Sykes hesitated.

  “Unfortunately what?” Joe asked.

  “The well is running dry,” Sykes said, removing his glasses to clean them. “In other words, I’m almost out of money. I’ve applied to several scientific foundations for funding, but it’s very difficult to get them to take my work seriously. That’s part of the reason I needed those forms filled out last night. I need to convince these organizations that Visitors are with us. Now.”

  “According to you,” Frank pointed out.

  Sykes rose to his feet. “No, not just me. According to hundreds of other people, too. Are you familiar with the abduction phenomenon?”

  “I am,” Joe said. “A lot of people claim aliens have abducted them for brief periods of time arid taken them aboard their spacecraft. But for some reason these people have only very dim memories of their experiences.”

  “The phenomenon is called missing time,” Sykes said, putting his glasses back on. “The abductees seem to black out from the moment the Visitors take them to the moment they are returned. But under hypnosis with licensed psychotherapists, most of these people are able to recall their experiences very clearly.”