Diplomatic Deceit Read online

  "Frank," Joe said, "we've got to find a way out of here - fast!"

  "Unless you can call down a helicopter or an air strike, I don't think we're getting out of here," Callie said.

  "We'll have to settle for something a little more down-to-earth," Frank answered. He grabbed Callie's hand and sprinted forward, with Joe following close behind, as if heading for the open space between the two men who blocked the way back to the Air and Space Museum. The two thugs moved together, filling in the hole.

  Frank then abruptly changed course, and they all climbed on board one of the Tourmobile buses that constantly circled the Mall. Frank paid all three fares to the driver. Just as the bus began pulling away, Old Ugly managed to get on. His partners, however, were too far away to catch up.

  "Nice going, Frank. At least you cut down the odds," Joe whispered with a glance at the large plug-ugly who stood by the front door.

  "For the moment," Callie said, looking out the window. Far behind them, two of their shadows were running along behind the bus.

  The kids sat quietly until the bus reached its next stop. At the last possible moment they burst out. Old Ugly was caught by surprise as they left the bus, but he managed to pry the doors open and get off, too.

  Callie and the Hardys had a big lead and ran hard, passing the huge reflecting pool, before they stumbled up a set of marble stairs. Above them was a statue of General Grant sitting on his horse and looking grim. They ran past him, then past a statuary group of charging calvary troopers. That's just what we need right now, Frank thought - the cavalry to come charging to the rescue.

  The bronze soldiers didn't leap into action, so Frank kept moving, keeping pace with Joe and Callie as they headed for Capitol Hill.

  Ahead of them now rose the gleaming white marble of the Capitol Building, with its huge, soaring dome. From not far behind them, Frank could hear the pounding of footsteps up the marble steps of the Grant Monument. Taking a second to glance back, he saw that Old Ugly was pretty close on their tail. The pockmarked man moved fast for a man of his weight.

  Frank's blood froze as he watched their tail reach under his loud sport coat, but the man suddenly stiffened, and his hand came away empty. Turning toward the Capitol, Frank saw an armed police officer stroll toward them. "Take it easy, kids," the guard told them. "The Capitol's been here almost two hundred years. It's not going to disappear before you get there."

  Frank glanced nervously at Joe. Should he tell the police officer they were being followed? Would he believe it? Even Frank didn't know what was going on. "Okay, sir," he said, slowing down his pace.

  Callie, who'd been about to spill everything, shut her mouth with an audible snap. Shrugging her shoulders, she walked quietly toward the entrance.

  That lasted for about ten seconds. "Why didn't we get that cop to help us?" she whispered furiously to Frank.

  "He wouldn't have believed me," Frank told her. "Besides, I've got a better plan."

  They joined a line of tourists in the entranceway, walking through a small metal archway. As one of the people ahead of them stepped through, a loud buzzer went off. The man stepped back and started going through his pockets, removing coins and keys.

  "A metal detector!" Joe said, grinning as he began to understand.

  He glanced behind them. Old Ugly, seeing the metal detector, hung back at the entry way, his hand almost protectively going under his left arm.

  "If he's carrying a gun - and it looks like he is - he can't come through the detector." Joe grinned. "Nice move, Frank."

  "So, we could go straight through the Rotunda, out the other side, and lose him," Callie said.

  "Or ... " Frank's voice trailed off.

  "Or?" Callie prompted.

  "We could let them send a guy in after us - unarmed - and face him down in here," Joe said. "That's what you were thinking, right?"

  Frank nodded, checking out the large round room, crowded with tourists. "I wonder, though, if Congress will lend us a committee room for a real, in-depth interview."

  "We'll just have to see," Joe said, his eyes lighting up at the promise of action.

  Back at the doorway, the rest of the pursuers had joined up with Old Ugly. They seemed to be arguing with him. Through a trick of acoustics, Frank caught two words from the man. "Le coup." Then, using the others to shield him, he slipped something to one of his accomplices and headed through the metal detector.

  Callie, Frank, and Joe joined the end of a tour group that was just leaving, Old Ugly grimly trailing them. They saw officers' and committee rooms, then went underground to the subway system that ran between lawmakers' offices and the Capitol.

  As they entered the underground area, the three kids held back as the main group boarded a train. Frank and Joe moved to confront Old Ugly.

  The big thug paid no attention to them. Reaching into his coat, he whipped out what seemed to be a thin piece of paper. What was he going to do? Frank wondered. Give them a paper cut?

  Frank suddenly realized that the white object in the man's hand wasn't paper - it was a five-inch knife blade. "Watch out!" he yelled.

  Old Ugly was already on the move, knife extended - aiming straight for Callie Shaw.

  Chapter 7

  Frank leaped forward as the blade in the huge thug's hand went straight for Callie's throat. Joe was there first, though, knocking the knife off-course. It flashed inches from her face as she scrambled back.

  Even as he struggled with Joe for the knife, Old Ugly swung out with his free hand. Frank winced as the thug's openhanded blow sent Joe flying into the wall, stunned.

  That left only Frank between the killer and Callie. He stood his ground, raising his hands in an almost pleading gesture. "Now wait a minute, big fella. Can't we talk about this?"

  The ugly face looming over him twisted into a nasty smile. Old Ugly shook his head no.

  Frank shrugged. "Okay, then." His foot lashed out to catch Old Ugly in the shin. The big guy leaped back one step with a roar. He instantly limped forward, though, brandishing his knife. Frank began to wonder if the confrontation in the temporarily empty area had been such a bright idea.

  As soon as the thought came, the area was no longer empty. A man in a suit - maybe a senator, maybe a legislative aide - walked up, reading some papers. When he saw the guy with the knife, he threw up his hands, the papers went flying, and he ran back along the corridor, screaming. Frank just hoped help would come before he was sliced and diced.

  Old Ugly was taking him a lot more seriously now, advancing slowly in a knife fighter's crouch. The blade was out, flicking slowly back and forth. Unarmed and unable to get past the knife, all Frank could do was retreat.

  The area was still completely empty. Anyone who did come in ran screaming when they saw the knife-wielding Old Ugly. Frank hoped Callie had the sense to get out of there. He didn't dare turn around to look for her - not with that strange-looking white knife just inches from his heart.

  Old Ugly feinted left, then right, then drove the knife straight at Frank's chest.

  Frank's attention was riveted on the blade - he didn't see Joe launch off the wall in a wild leap.

  The knife swung wildly as Joe plowed into Old Ugly, who struggled to stay upright. With a guy this big, they had to keep at him until he went down all the way.

  Frank twisted the thug's knife arm fiercely, smashing it down on his knee. Old Ugly lost his grip, and the knife dropped to the tile floor.

  As soon as the white blade hit the ground, it shattered.

  "No wonder he got that thing through the metal detectors," Frank said. "It's made of ceramic!"

  His momentary distraction nearly got him decked. Old Ugly had wrenched his arm free and was swinging at him. Frank ducked, and the big thug pulled away, moving fast despite his limp. Joe grabbed for him, but Old Ugly was free now, lumbering down the corridor. Passengers from a train that had just arrived hit the walls as he plowed through them.

  Frank grabbed Joe's arm and led him in the opposite d
irection. Joe pulled against his lead. "Come on, Joe, you've got to know when to end a fight. We'll never catch him," Frank said.

  Callie came running back to them. "Let's join up with that tour," she said, pointing. "Then we can get out of here," she said.

  Frank shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

  They blended in with the tourist group and headed back for the Rotunda. The whole Hill was swarming with Capitol police - and there was no] sign of Old Ugly or any of the other tails.

  "I guess they got scared off," Callie said. "I don't know about you guys, but I think I've done enough sight-seeing for today."

  "Yeah," Joe agreed. "I'm in the mood for a nice cab ride back to our hotel."

  As they pulled up at the hotel entrance, Joe pulled out his wallet. He counted out the money for the fare and found that worn bill that wouldn't go into the fare card machine. For a second he grinned, almost tempted to use the Worst Dollar Bill in the World for the trip. But he was afraid the driver might run over his foot as he pulled away.

  "I am ready to sleep till next Wednesday," Callie said as they rode up in the elevator.

  "Well, you'll have to cram your rest into what's left of the afternoon," Frank said. "We're going to the Quarter tonight, remember?"

  Callie stared at him. "You're kidding, right? We nearly got killed, and you still want to go out tonight?"

  Joe's eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother. "Maybe that's how he expects to find out who's been trying to kill us."

  ***

  The Quarter was in a new building on a small side street off Connecticut Avenue. It was pretty easy to find. The Hardys and Callie just had to look for a place with a lot of kids hanging around outside - and lots of expensive cars parked nearby. Joe stopped halfway down the block. "Check this one out, guys. A Porsche convertible."

  "Right now, I want to check out Maddy," Frank said. "And her friends," he added hastily when he saw Callie's raised eyebrows.

  Madeleine Berot was already in the club, dancing up a storm. Her partner was a tall, good-looking blond guy, dressed in a tapered raw linen shirt. The lights flickered and the music was loud, and Maddy's dancing was wild and abandoned.

  "What do you think?" Frank shouted over the noise.

  Joe shrugged. "Looks pretty good to me."

  There was a break in the music, and Madeleine ran over to them. "You came! You came!" she shouted. "I'm so happy!"

  Her blond friend strolled over with her. By the look on his face, he wasn't too glad to see the newcomers. "This is Ansel," Madeleine said, patting his shoulder. "His father works at the German embassy."

  "What a surprise," Joe muttered.

  "I met him and his friends here," Maddy went on. "They're all diplomats' kids."

  "Dips and dip-ettes," Frank whispered to Callie, staring at the elaborately dressed guys and girls Madeleine was pointing toward.

  "What is the story with you?" Ansel asked. "State Department? U.S. Information Service? I haven't seen you around before. Did your parents just move into the District?"

  "We're just visiting," Callie said.

  "Right," Frank added. "Just plain civilians from Bayport."

  "Tourists?" Ansel's tone of voice made the word sound as if he'd said "pond scum."

  Joe faced off against the German kid. "Callie and Madeleine are old friends," he said. "They had a chance to get together here in Washington, and Callie wanted us to come with her. Is that a problem?"

  "No problem," Maddy said quickly, grabbing Joe's arm. "Come on, the music is starting again. You must dance with me." She gave him that 150-watt smile. "After all, Callie told me she brought you with her because you're such a great dancer."

  Frank and Callie joined Maddy and Joe, leaving Ansel to stand alone.

  They danced for half an hour, then Maddy led them all back to the table where the diplomatic brat-pack was sitting. She introduced them quickly, rattling off names and countries. There was Willem, a doughy-looking Dutch guy with lank brown hair, and Stephanie, a cool blond girl whose father was someone fairly important in the British embassy. Indira was an Indian girl with beautiful dark hair that reached her waist. She wore jeans, an expensive sweater, and a caste mark on her forehead. Joe didn't hear what country Tomas came from. He was tall and elegantly thin, with handsome dark looks.

  Obviously, Ansel had already reported on them. The diplomatic brats greeted the Americans as if they'd just crawled out from under a rock.

  Maddy, however, stayed with her American friends. She seemed almost defiant about it, keeping an arm around Joe as they stood by the table. That got her dirty looks from Ansel, Willem, and Tomas.

  "So, Madeleine," Ansel said. Joe noticed that he pronounced her name perfectly. "Do you think you could get us invitations for the costume ball at your embassy this weekend? The one in honor of the Lafayette sword. I heard that your father is in charge of the display - "

  Frank turned to Maddy. "Your father is in charge of the Lafayette sword?" he asked.

  Madeleine barely looked at him as she yanked on Joe's arm. "This is my favorite song!" she exclaimed with another brilliant smile. The next second they were on the dance floor again. Joe could almost feel Ansel's and Frank's eyes boring into the back of his head.

  They danced for three more songs - all of them her favorites, Madeleine assured Joe. He couldn't help noticing, though, that they only returned to the table after Frank and Callie and Ansel and Indira had gotten up to dance.

  They sat down even though the remaining diplomatic brats didn't bother to greet them. No one talked to them. Madeleine was determined to have a good time, anyway. She ordered fresh sodas for everyone and appetizers for the table. Joe decided that money was no problem for her.

  Maddy made bright conversation, even though the other kids at the table didn't join in with her and Joe. Joe tried to keep up his part of the conversation, but it wasn't easy with all those hostile eyes shooting icy glares at him. When Ansel and Indira returned to the table, Joe could barely put up with the bad vibrations.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as Frank and Callie rejoined them. "What do you say we move along?" Joe asked.

  "Oh, you can't leave yet!" Madeleine said. "I wanted you to have a good time. To make up for - well, you know."

  "It has been a pretty full day," Joe said. "We were all over the Mall, looking at museums - "

  "Tourists," he overheard Indira saying to Ansel.

  "And then we got jumped by some guy with a knife," Joe said, finishing his sentence.

  "Jumped?" Tomas said, showing interest for the first time. "You have to be careful in this city, you know."

  Maddy, however, turned pale. "With a knife?" she echoed.

  "Where did it happen?" Indira asked.

  "Would you believe Capitol Hill?" Joe told her.

  "I don't believe you," Ansel said bluntly. "But if you want to go home, go."

  He became nasty, however, when Maddy got up as well. "We just treated you to a round of sodas," he said.

  Joe sighed. "Look, we don't want any trouble. Why don't I pay?" He reached for his wallet - and found nothing in his back pocket. His face became red as he checked his other pockets and turned up nothing. "My wallet - I've lost my wallet!"

  "Sure," Ansel told him, rising to his feet. "If you want to sponge off us - "

  "Hey, pal, I don't - "

  Ansel cut off Joe's words with a sharp shove to his shoulder.

  All of a sudden a bouncer appeared at Joe's side, and the manager of the club was beside Ansel. "I want no problems," the manager said, smiling through gritted teeth.

  "I'll take care of it," Frank said, throwing some money on the table.

  Ansel swept the bills away. "I've come here for months with no problem. Now you have the manager after us."

  "You do have a problem, champ," the manager told him. "I want you out of here - now. All of you. Pick up your money," he said to Frank, then turned back to Ansel. "As for you, I've had it with you and your friends. You're eighty-sixed."
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br />   "What is eighty-sixed?" Ansel demanded.

  "You and your friends aren't welcome to come here anymore," the manager said.

  Ansel's face turned a dull red. "Do you know who my father is?"

  "I don't really care," the manager told him with a shrug. "There are lots more like you out there."

  Ansel was about to swing at the manager when the bouncer took him by the shoulder. "This way," the big, beefy guy said. With that hand clamped onto him, there was nothing Ansel could do but let the bouncer march him off. Ansel's diplomatic brat friends trailed along.

  The Hardys, Callie, and Madeleine left a minute later. "Maddy, I'm sorry how this turned out," Callie said. "I don't think your friends - "

  "They weren't my friends," Madeleine told her. "I just met them tonight - real snobs, wouldn't you say?"

  "Well, I'm glad we're out of there," Joe said. He was trying to cool down, but his angry feelings showed in his long strides. He was crossing the street in the middle of the block way ahead of the others. "That Ansel - "

  His voice was cut off by the roar of a car engine. The Porsche convertible he'd admired earlier was speeding down the street.

  Joe saw the blond hair and knew Ansel was behind the wheel. He had the car set on a collision course with Joe.

  Chapter 8

  The steamy air softened the outlines of the onrushing Porsche, making it seem almost ghostly. Joe knew that it was no phantom heading for him, though. If Ansel hit him, he'd be dead.

  Joe swung his arms behind him, sending Madeleine, Callie, and Frank staggering backward. Then Joe dove and rolled to the far side of the street.

  The Porsche missed him by inches.

  Frank ran over to help Joe up. As he did, Ansel was throwing his Porsche screaming into reverse, not caring who got hit now. Joe and Frank were on one side of the street, the girls on the other.

  Ansel angled his car up onto the sidewalk where Callie and Maddy were. Joe knew he had to do something to turn Ansel away from the girls.