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  “It wouldn’t take someone too long to loosen the nuts holding the cables,” Frank said.

  “But the bike’s been with me the whole time,” Joe said.

  “Not when we did the final paperwork and communications check,” Frank said. “We racked the bikes then.”

  “But who would want to sabotage my bike?” Joe asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Frank nodded. “You’re right. It’s not like we’re big-name competitors or anything.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a bad break—no pun intended. C’mon. Let’s get your bike fixed so we can get back into the race.”

  The brothers walked back through the woods toward the checkpoint. As they went, several out-of-breath race staffers ran up to them. “Are you all right?” one asked.

  “I had a problem with the brakes,” Joe said. “But I should be able to fix it and continue.”

  “You really had us worried,” said the other official. “Vince Bennett saw the video feed and called to check on you. We’re glad you’re okay.” As he talked, the other official radioed in the news that Joe hadn’t been hurt.

  The four of them returned to the checkpoint in time to see Roger Baldwin pedaling off down the cross-country trail. Michael Lupin arrived at the bottom of the hill as the brothers unpacked their emergency repair kits and began working on Joe’s bike. Lupin spared the brothers only a glance before finishing his check-in and biking down the trail.

  It took the Hardys only a few minutes to make the needed repairs. They tested Joe’s brakes vigorously, then completed the checkpoint routine and headed into the forest. The cross-country trail was more suited to hiking or skiing than bike racing. Pine needles made traction difficult and the course wound up and downhill frequently.

  Joe soon began to feel the effects of his ordeal. His muscles ached and his breath came in labored gasps. “Go ahead of me, Frank,” he said. “You can make better time than I can.”

  “No way,” Frank replied. “I don’t care if we’ve both got emergency radios. I’d rather stick close and rely on each other.”

  A few racers passed the brothers as they rode in tandem through the forested hills. The Hardys passed several competitors as well. Some were merely going slow, others had troubles of their own. One woman had a broken bicycle frame and was using her radio to call for help. Another man was sitting by the side of the trail, taking an early break to drink some water.

  “Bet that guy doesn’t finish in the top ten,” Joe said with a tired grin.

  Several helicopters passed overhead as they labored up and down the terrain.

  “Media?” Joe asked.

  “Or race monitors or medical personnel,” Frank suggested. “I thought I spotted the Red Cross and the LaTelle Medical logo on a chopper earlier. Either way, I’m glad someone’s keeping an eye on things.”

  “The choppers kind of spoil the pristine atmosphere, though,” Joe said.

  Frank chuckled. “Like a bunch of people on mountain bikes don’t?”

  They stopped only briefly for a packed lunch, to stretch, and to recheck the gear on the bikes.

  “This course is jostling things all out of whack,” Joe said, tugging his handlebars back into proper alignment.

  “It could have been your earlier run off the mountain, too,” Frank replied.

  “Not the best start,” Joe said, “but we’re making up some ground—even if my whole body aches.”

  “Just wait until day six,” Frank said.

  Joe smiled. “You’ll be eating my dust by then, bro.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Frank replied. He mounted up and rode off. Joe did the same, only a second or two behind.

  The beauty of the woodland scenery took some of the monotony out of the rolling hills. Soon the pines of the mountain slope gave way to a mixed forest: maples, oaks, and other deciduous trees.

  Toward the end of the day they passed Michael Lupin, who was wrestling with a flat tire. “Need any help?” Joe called. Lupin merely scowled and waved them on.

  Just before sunset the brothers broke out of the woods near the banks of a broad lake. The lake’s placid waters reflected the emerald glory of the trees lining its shores. Half a mile ahead they spotted a big A-frame building with a line of docks in front of it.

  “Fire Lake Lodge, dead ahead,” Frank said.

  “Beat you there,” Joe replied, digging into his bike’s pedals. The younger Hardy shot ahead momentarily; then Frank recovered from his surprise and sprinted after him.

  Soon the two were racing neck and neck toward the lodge checkpoint, a long tentlike pavilion with a table across the front. A helicopter sat on a wide swath of lawn behind the tent, and several cameras were set up near the table.

  Vince Bennett stood next to the table, all smiles. He called to the brothers as they hit the brakes and skidded to a stop.

  “Looks like a tie to me,” Bennett said. “Whoa! Watch out.” He backed up as Michael Lupin braked in right beside the brothers.

  “Never count the old man out,” Lupin said, a slight grin cracking his bearded face.

  “Good to see you, Michael,” Bennett said. “You, too, Frank and Joe. Hey, Joe, I thought we lost you at the bottom of the mountain. Great comeback. Great footage, too. The race sponsors are gonna eat that up. It’ll look super on TV.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of TV when my brakes failed,” Joe said, a bit peeved.

  “Of course you weren’t,” Bennett said. “And I don’t mean to imply that you shouldn’t be more careful in the future. I don’t want anyone hurt in this race. But danger’s part of the game, isn’t it?”

  “Danger’s part of life,” Lupin interjected. “Check me through. I want to get some grub and take a shower.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Bennett said. “Don’t forget to check your kayaks and other equipment tonight.” He turned and walked toward the helicopter.

  The race officials quickly processed Lupin and the Hardys, giving them room assignments and tentative starting times. All three checked their bikes into the equipment rack, where their support crews would pick them up later. Then they headed for the lodge. As the three competitors walked, Frank said, “Nice sprint at the end there, Mr. Lupin. You nearly caught us.”

  Lupin almost smiled. “I’d have been here long ago if I hadn’t blown that tire on a sharp stick. You boys did pretty well, too—considering your early setback.”

  “We’re in this for the long haul,” Joe said.

  “Yeah,” Lupin replied. “Me, too. I don’t like quitters. I’d better check my hired crew. They should be okay, but . . . well, they’re not my regular trainer.” He turned left at the A-frame, heading for a smaller building marked Support.

  Joe and Frank entered the high-ceilinged lodge and quickly found their rooms. Jamal and Chet were hanging out, waiting for them.

  “Glad you both made it,” Jamal said.

  “When we saw the mountain footage, we had our doubts,” Chet added.

  “Just a little sabotage with my brakes,” Joe said. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Sabotage?” Jamal and Chet said simultaneously.

  “Someone loosened the cable grips,” Frank said. “Though we can’t imagine why.”

  “To make the race more exciting?” Chet suggested. “Joe looked great on TV.”

  “That’s pretty extreme,” Jamal said. “I know the resort wants big publicity, but Joe could have been seriously hurt.”

  “And that kind of publicity they don’t need,” Joe said. “We’ll just have to double check all the equipment from now on.”

  “There’s not much you can sabotage on a kayak,” Jamal said.

  “We’ll still need to be careful,” Frank replied.

  “Are you guys hungry?” Chet asked.

  “Famished,” Joe said. “Give me and Frank time for a quick shower and we’ll hit the dining hall.”

  Dinner was an informal affair, with many competitors just grabbing some food and heading for their rooms. With
two nights of camping out ahead, everyone wanted to get a good night’s sleep.

  Though it was difficult to count with people drifting in and out, it seemed to the Hardys that the field had thinned a bit already. After eating, Frank and Joe decided to check on their kayaks, while Chet and Jamal went to pack away the mountain bikes.

  “Don’t worry,” Jamal said. “We’ll have ’em street legal by the time we see you in St. Esprit.”

  “And we’ll double check the brakes,” Chet added.

  “Great,” Frank said. “See you back inside in a couple of minutes.”

  Night had fallen while the Hardys were inside, and a pale half-moon was just peeking above the trees on the lake’s eastern shore. Big floodlights lit the boathouse near the docks, though the farthest slips remained in shadow.

  The brothers checked in with the boathouse guard, went inside, and gave their kayaks the once-over. The small, sleek vessels and double-sided paddles seemed to be in perfect working condition.

  “No brakes to sabotage on these,” Joe said.

  Frank nodded and the two of them headed back toward the lodge. Light flooded through the big windows at the front of the A-frame, and shadows of the people within danced across the lawn outside.

  “Beautiful night,” Frank said, taking a deep breath of the cool air.

  Joe nodded. “Too bad we have to hit the hay early.”

  As they neared the side door, though, the sounds of angry voices from around the corner caught the brothers’ attention.

  “Ssh!” hissed a woman’s voice. “Do you want someone to hear?” The conversation continued after that but in lower tones. The brothers couldn’t make out the words.

  Frank and Joe exchanged a glance. Both of them crept around the side of the building toward the voices. The back corner of the lodge came almost to the edge of the woods. The Hardys stopped at the bend and listened.

  A deep, masculine voice drifted around the corner. Even whispering, its tones carried through the night air.

  “What we need,” the voice said, “is to put some of the contestants out of the race.”

  4 Water, Water, Everywhere

  * * *

  Anger flared in Joe’s eyes. He was about to charge around the corner to confront the conspirators, but Frank put his hand across Joe’s chest. The older Hardy put a finger to his lips, indicating that they should both keep silent.

  “What do you mean?” a female voice said warily.

  “I’m just saying,” the deep voice replied, “that accidents happen all the time in this kind of race.”

  “He’s right,” another male voice said. “The fewer racers, the better chance we have to come out on top.”

  “You’re both crazy,” the woman replied. “If we’re caught cheating, that’s end of the race—the end of everything. We might just as well shoot ourselves in the foot.”

  “I’m willing to do that,” the deep voice said, “if it’ll bring us the publicity we need.”

  “You’ve been watching too much TV,” the woman said. “Do you think that any publicity is good publicity? Well, I don’t buy it. I’m running this team, and we’re going to play it my way. If any of you don’t agree, you can quit. I promise I won’t miss you.”

  Frank and Joe cautiously edged to the corner of the building and peered around. In the back, near a service door, stood a woman and two men. Dark shadows covered all of them. In the distance a light shone from the lodge’s parking lot.

  One of the men was tall and large, bigger than Chet. The other—a skinny man with long hair—leaned against the handlebars of a mountain bike. Despite the dim light, the brothers recognized the woman as Kelly Hawk.

  “Kelly,” the big man with the deep voice said, “there’s a lot at stake here—more than just you and your rep.”

  “Too much to risk by cheating,” Kelly Hawk snapped. “How are you going to do our people any good by messing with this race? Don’t you think I can win on my own?”

  The big man dug the toe of his boot into the ground. “I didn’t mean it that way, Kelly,” he said.

  “Of course we think you can win,” the thin man said. “But it would be better if it were a sure thing. If you won, people would have to pay attention to our cause.”

  “Not if I won by cheating,” Kelly replied. “Cheating would bury us quicker than a herd of bulldozers. And think of the shame to our families, our friends, our nation if anyone found out.”

  She looked from one of the men to the other, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. “I couldn’t live with myself if I cheated, and I won’t have you two cheating on my behalf. Do I make myself clear?”

  The men nodded slowly and said, “Yes, Kelly.”

  “Good. Now, load my bike into the van and catch some rest. I need everything in top condition for the road race stage. I need both of you thinking clearly, too. Don’t do anything stupid, understand?”

  The men nodded again. “Yes, Kelly.”

  “Okay, scram,” she said. “I’m going to turn in.”

  The two men turned and walked toward the parking lot, taking the bike with them. Kelly sighed and shook her head. She tried to go in through the service door, but it was locked. Frustrated, she kicked the door with her boot.

  “Any trouble back here?” Frank asked. He stepped from the shadows with Joe right behind him.

  Kelly jumped. “Whoa! Don’t sneak up on a girl like that!”

  “We heard arguing,” Joe said, “and thought we’d better check.”

  A wry smile cracked Kelly’s lips. “You two are real Boy Scouts, aren’t you?”

  “Just concerned citizens,” Frank said.

  “Well, this doesn’t concern you,” she replied.

  “It does if someone is trying to sabotage the race,” Joe said. “Some competitors will do anything to win.”

  Kelly’s dark eyes narrowed. “How long were you two lurking around that corner?”

  “Long enough to hear what you said to those men,” Frank replied. “It sounds like they want to make trouble.”

  “John and Jim?” she said. “They just talk big. Look, you two, I’m in this race to win publicity for my people and our cause, I told you that before. You think I’m going to let a couple of goons screw that up?”

  “It sounded like they might have ideas of their own,” Joe replied.

  “I can handle them, believe me,” Hawk said. “You worry about your support team, I’ll worry about mine. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to catch some rest. Don’t bother walking me ‘home,’ I can find my own way.” She pushed past them and headed for the lodge’s main entrance.

  Joe and Frank watched her go. Then Joe said, “What do you think?”

  “She seems sincere,” Frank replied. “We’ll have to keep a careful lookout, though.”

  “And double check our equipment every day.”

  Frank nodded. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

  • • •

  The aches and pains of the previous day’s ride had ebbed somewhat by the time the Hardys woke the next morning. They ate a quick breakfast and headed down to the boathouse to check over their equipment. They saw no sign of Kelly Hawk or her crew, but many of the other racers were down near the docks. Frid, Collins, and Curtis spent some time talking to their hired support team before checking their kayaks.

  The Clemenceaus spent as much time talking to the media as making preparations for the race. Roger Baldwin and Michael Lupin kept to themselves, preparing diligently and going through calisthenics routines.

  “If you look up intense in the dictionary, you’ll find pictures of those two,” Chet said.

  “They’re not alone in this crowd,” Jamal remarked, looking around. “Some folks are taking this race very seriously.”

  “Let’s hope that no one is taking it seriously enough to purposely cause trouble,” Joe said.

  “Don’t worry,” Jamal said. “After what you told us last night, we’ll keep a close watch on Kelly Hawk’s crew.”


  “Thanks, guys,” Frank said. “Let’s give these boats one more look over and then check in for the race.”

  Starting times for the day were based on the finish times turned in on the previous day’s race. The long, broad nature of Fire Lake would give those in the back of the pack a good chance to catch up with the leaders. Fire Creek, the winding river beyond the lake, would present fewer opportunities, even without the hazards of its rapids and whitewater.

  Because the kayak race led directly into the hiking portion of the Speed Times Five Adventure Race, the competitors had to pack enough supplies to last them until they reached civilization once more.

  At the staging area, Maggie Collins was having trouble stowing all of her gear in her kayak.

  “Need some help?” Joe offered.

  The young coed almost jumped at the sound of his voice. “Oh! No, thank you,” she said. “I can manage it. Thanks for offering.”

  Quentin Curtis, one of the other students, came over from where he’d been working on his own kayak. “Hey, Maggie,” he said, “let me give you a hand with that.”

  She smiled at him. “Yeah, hey, thanks,” she said. Robert Frid came over as well. Working together, the three of them quickly solved the problem.

  Joe walked away and said to Frank, “I guess it was just my help she didn’t need.”

  Frank shrugged. “Well, we are competitors—even if you and I are cooperating, and she and her two friends are working together.”

  “At some point,” Jamal said, “despite all this friendliness, someone has to win this race.”

  Joe smiled. “And that person is gonna be me.”

  “Not if I get there first,” Frank replied.

  “Well, now that we’ve got that settled . . .” Chet said.

  The four friends hauled the Hardys’ kayaks to their starting positions. Frank and Joe said so long to Chet and Jamal. The Hardys wouldn’t be seeing their support crew for two days, until all of them were scheduled to meet at the St. Esprit checkpoint. Then Frank and Joe took their places and all four of them waited for the Hardys’ turn to start.

  Despite their troubles on the mountain section of the course, the Hardys’ times put them into the thick of the race. Roger Baldwin was slightly ahead of them, as were the three college students—Frid, Curtis, and Collins. Michael Lupin would hit the water right after the brothers did.