The Vanishing Thieves Read online

  Out in front, Frank was getting just as tired of sitting in the refrigerator carton. His interest perked up when the warehouse door opened and Red Sluice came out with Anton Jivaro. The red sports car was parked only a few feet from Frank’s box, and he could hear their conversation clearly as they walked toward it.

  “You should have told me right away the Hardy boys were on that plane, instead of waiting until now,” Red complained to his cousin.

  “How’d I know that Fenton Hardy was investigating you too?” Jivaro asked. “Anyway, didn’t your girlfriend just tell you over the phone that their being here has nothing to do with the car operation?”

  The two climbed into the sports car.

  “Yeah, she did,” Red admitted. “When I called to bawl her out for not mentioning they were on the plane, she told me they’re in town to check on some missing coin that one of their friends inherited. We’ll get the details when we meet her at her apartment. ”

  “Will she be able to get away from the bank?”

  “She says she can make it on her lunch hour. The key’s under a flowerpot, so we can get in.”

  Red started the engine, but did not immediately drive off because Jivaro said, “Wait a minute. You think I ought to go with you?”

  “Why not?”

  “She was on the plane. She’s going to recognize me as the hijacker.”

  “She’s not going to squeal on any friend of mine,” Red told him. “Don’t worry about it.” With that, they took off in a cloud of dust.

  At the apartment, Joe and Vern had searched everywhere except in the bedroom without finding anything of interest. Now, while going through a dresser drawer, Joe saw a bankbook under a pile of stockings. Opening it, he let out a whistle.

  “What’s the matter?” Vern asked.

  “This is a savings account in Cylvia Nash’s name, opened ten years ago. It shows regular deposits of twenty dollars every month, up to last month—except for one!”

  Vern shrugged. “So she’s a frugal woman. You can’t blame her for missing one deposit in ten years. ”

  “I didn’t mean she missed one. She made a larger one. On April 12, eight years ago, she put in fifty thousand dollars!”

  Vern took the book from his friend’s hand to look at it. “Now there’s a coincidence! Uncle Gregg put that coin in his safe-deposit box on March 22, just two weeks prior to her big deposit.”

  Suddenly, they heard a key turn in the front door. Joe hurriedly replaced the bankbook beneath the stockings where he had found it and closed the dresser drawer. Then he and Vern flattened themselves against the wall at either side of the bedroom door.

  A male voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Joe said, “We may as well relax. She won’t be along for at least fifteen minutes.”

  Another man grunted an unintelligible reply. The boys were relieved that it wasn’t Cylvia who had entered. They would never have been able to pass themselves off as telephone repairmen to her!

  Joe signaled to Vern and tiptoed toward the bathroom. When they were both inside, he closed the door as quickly as he could, and went over to the window. He raised it carefully and looked out. They were on the second floor, and the drop to the concrete courtyard was too great to risk.

  “Guess we’ll have to walk out the front way,” the young detective grumbled. “I hope it isn’t anybody that knows us. That one voice sounded familiar!”

  “Not to me,” Vern said. “But do you think we’ll get away with it even if they don’t know us?”

  “Sure. We’ll just have to brazen it out,” Joe said with determination. “Just say the phone is okay now. If they ask how we got in, we’ll tell the truth. The manager let us in.”

  “Maybe we better wait in here until they leave,” Vern suggested.

  Joe shook his head. “They’re expecting somebody along in fifteen minutes, and it’s a woman. Probably Cylvia Nash. If she sees us, it’s all over.”

  Vern nodded. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

  Joe eased open the bathroom door. Deliberately rattling some tools on his belt, he said in a loud voice, “The phone’s working all right now. What’s our next stop?”

  Vern mumbled an address, as they walked into the front room.

  “Your phone‘s—” Joe started to say, but came to an abrupt halt when he saw Red Sluice and Anton Jivaro seated in chairs.

  Sluice jumped to his feet instantly. “Those thieves again!” he shouted.

  The boys raced for the door, but Sluice got there ahead of them and, with his back firmly planted against it, pulled out a knife!

  9 The Bomb

  Anton Jivaro followed the group. “Thieves?” he said. “What do you mean by that?”

  Red pointed his knife at Joe. “That’s one of the kids who tried to break into my house last night. Then we caught him in the machine shop at the warehouse this morning. I don’t know who the other one is.”

  “I’ll tell you! First of all, they’re not thieves!” the hijacker exclaimed. “That’s Joe Hardy, and the one with him is named Vern Nelson.”

  Joe whispered to Vern, “You take the little guy and I’ll handle Red.”

  “You’ll handle who?” Red said, raising his knife threateningly.

  Suddenly, Anton rushed at Vern and landed three quick blows before the boy could get set. As Vern reeled backward, Joe undid the buckle of his heavily laden tool belt and tossed it at Red. A heavy wrench smashed into the man’s toe.

  “Ow!” Red yelled, dancing on one foot in pain.

  Vern recovered, grabbed Jivaro by both arms and hurled him across the room. The little man crashed into Red and both went down in a tangle.

  Joe scooted out the door with Vern right behind him. The boys were running down the stairs four at a time before Red and Anton picked themselves up and took off in hot pursuit.

  The elderly woman who managed the apartment house was supervising a gardener weeding the lawn when the boys rushed outside. Both she and the gardener gazed after them in surprise, and almost failed to notice Red Sluice and Anton Jivaro dash out the door. The two hoods stopped suddenly when they saw they would have witnesses. Red hurriedly put away his knife before the manager and the gardener turned around to look at them.

  The young detectives jumped into the gray sedan. Joe started the engine, and they took off as fast as they could.

  “Sluice and Jivaro are walking to their car real easy,” he reported looking back. “Guess they don’t want to chance the manager calling the police.”

  Joe turned a corner before the red sports car started to move. He ducked through an alley, then drove a zigzag course for several blocks. When he was sure he had lost his pursuers, he returned to the hotel.

  As they approached their rooms, Joe felt in his coveralls pockets and said, “Uh-oh! Guess what.”

  “What?”

  “My room key was in a section of that tool belt. If they find it, they’ll know where we’re staying, because the tag on the key shows the hotel.”

  “I still have my key,” Vern said. “I’ll let you in my room, and you can go into yours through the connecting door. But we should change hotels once we get Frank and Chet.”

  After changing back into their regular clothes, the boys drove to the warehouse to relieve their friends. En route they picked up a sack of hamburgers and soft drinks for lunch.

  Joe gave a code signal with his horn when they passed the front of the warehouse, then parked down the street. As they walked up the block, Frank emerged from the refrigerator carton and started toward them.

  “It’s about time,” he said as he neared. “Chet’s probably half dead of starvation.”

  Joe grinned. “We’ve got something to save him,” he said, waving the bag of hamburgers. “We’d have been back sooner, if we hadn’t run into some problems. Anything happen here?”

  “Nothing important. Red Sluice and Anton Jivaro came out and drove off in the sports car. I overheard them talking before they left. They were headed for Cylvia Nash’s apartme
nt.”

  “Wish we’d known that,” Joe said ruefully. “We were searching the place when they walked in, and had to fight our way out. ”

  “Searching it? Why?”

  “Cylvia’s the bank clerk who checked Vern’s Uncle Gregg into the vault the day he put the Liberty Head nickel in his safe-deposit box. We found a bankbook in her name showing a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit two weeks later.”

  “Maybe she stole the coin!” Frank exclaimed.

  “Maybe. With the system the bank has, I don’t see how she could have, but the timing of that deposit is certainly suspicious.”

  Together the three walked cautiously around to the alley. Chet was in the shed, looking through the eyehole and playing with his yo-yo absentmindedly. He turned around as they entered.

  “Where’d you get the toy?” Joe asked.

  “Through a failure in communication. I’d rather not talk about it.” Eyeing the sack Joe was carrying, he sniffed appreciatively. “That smells like hamburgers.”

  “Five of them,” Joe said. “Two for you and one each for the rest of us. Plus four sodas.”

  As the boys opened the bag to begin eating, Joe asked Chet if he had anything to report. The boy said nothing had happened except that half a dozen workmen had emerged from the warehouse at noon and walked down the alley in the direction of the delicatessen. A half hour later they returned. Chet assumed they had gone for lunch.

  After they finished eating, the boys exchanged cameras. Vern was to take over stakeout duty at the rear of the warehouse, while Joe would station himself in the refrigerator carton in front. Chet and Frank decided to return to the hotel.

  Leaving Vern in the shed, the Hardys and Chet walked to the car. “Be careful,” Joe cautioned. “I left my room key in the tool belt when we were getting away from those hoods, and if they find it, they’ll know where we’re staying.”

  As the two drove off, Joe went to the refrigerator carton, settled himself on the wooden box, and put his eye to the view hole.

  An hour passed without anyone going in or out of the warehouse. He was getting bored when he heard someone opening the cardboard door behind him.

  Jumping to his feet, he whirled with his hands raised in karate stance, then relaxed when he saw it was Vern.

  In a low voice Vern said, “Remember that tattooed truck driver your father said was named Crafty Kraft?”

  Joe nodded.

  “He backed his truck up to the sliding door. I couldn’t see what he unloaded, because the hood was right in front of me, but I’ll bet it was stolen cars, and I wouldn’t be surprised if mine was among them!”

  “Maybe we’d better take a look,” Joe suggested.

  They walked around to the alley. Kraft’s truck was still parked there, but the sliding door was closed. After looking both ways to make sure no one was watching, Joe raised the restroom window and peered inside. Seeing it was empty, he climbed in. Vern followed.

  Cautiously, Joe peered out into the big, barnlike garage. When he spotted no one nearby, he opened the door far enough for Vern and him to slip through. They crouched behind the same partially dismantled car where the Hardys had concealed themselves earlier.

  The office was open and no one was inside. Glancing around, Joe spotted neither Big Harry nor Crafty Kraft.

  Three relatively new cars were parked right next to the back door. Excitedly Vern pointed to a blue sedan. “That’s mine!” he whispered.

  Suddenly the boys had to crouch low because a workman was headed their way. He went by without seeing them and entered the restroom.

  “When he comes out, he’ll spot us,” Joe pointed out. “We’ll have to find another place to hide.”

  “How about between those cars?” Vern suggested.

  Nodding, Joe stood up, glanced toward the crew to make sure no one was looking, and led the way to the newly delivered cars. At that moment, Crafty Kraft and Big Harry rose to their feet right in front of them! They had been in a crouched position, examining the underside of one of the cars. They spotted the boys instantly.

  “Hey, you!” Big Harry shouted in a threatening voice, starting toward them.

  Joe and Vern bolted for the restroom door, only to find it locked from inside. Before they could run in any other direction, Big Harry grabbed Joe in a bear hug and Crafty Kraft collared Vern. Fighting hard, the boys broke free and began to trade blows with their opponents. Moments later, a number of workmen, alerted by the commotion, converged on them. The young detectives were grabbed and held motionless by a dozen hands.

  “Take them into my office,” Big Harry ordered.

  Frank and Chet, meanwhile, discussed Joe’s warning as they rode up in the hotel elevator.

  “If they found the key, they could be waiting for us when we walk into our room,” Chet said with trepidation. “They could take us off somewhere, and we’d never be seen again.”

  “You sound like Aunt Gertrude,” Frank said. “They wouldn’t try to kidnap us here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because a hotel is too public a place for that kind of thing. How would they get us across the lobby? More likely they’d just bug our rooms so they’d know what our plans are.”

  “Then we’ll look for bugs,” Chet concluded with relief.

  The boys entered each room cautiously, examining everything with great care. They even checked the heating vents, and unscrewed both the mouthpieces and earpieces of the telephones to make sure no microphones had been planted in them.

  “The place is clean,” Frank declared finally.

  “When do we have to relieve Joe and Vern?” Chet asked.

  “We won’t. We’ll just pick them up about five. I figure that’s when the gang’ll close down for the day. If the big boss hasn’t appeared by then, he probably won’t show up at all. There’s no point in staking out the warehouse all night. We’ll start again in the morning.”

  “Suits me,” Chet said, flopping down on his bed.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” Frank announced, and walked through the connecting bathroom into his own room.

  His suitcase lay on a small bench against the wall. Deciding to take out some clean clothes before showering, he opened the bag. Instantly there was a puff of smoke, a blinding flash, and a thunderous explosion!

  10 Captured

  Chet rushed in and saw Frank sitting on the floor with a stunned expression on his face.

  “Are you hurt?” the boy asked anxiously.

  Frank climbed to his feet. “No, I’m fine.” He went over to look into the suitcase. “It was just a scare tactic, I think. All noise and no damage.”

  Picking up a note that was lying next to the remains of the fake bomb, he read it, then passed it on to Chet. In block letters was printed: GO BACK TO BAYPORT, OR THE NEXT ONE WILL BE REAL!

  “They mean business,” Chet said nervously.

  “So do we,” Frank stated in a grim tone. “We won’t be going back to Bayport. We’ll just make them think we did.”

  “How can we do that?” Chet inquired.

  “After we pick up Joe and Vern, we’ll check out of here and go to another hotel.”

  At five o‘clock the two friends drove to the warehouse and Frank gave the code honk. Parking down the street, they waited. When Joe and Vern did not appear, Frank walked back to check the refrigerator carton. It was empty, but his camera was lying underneath the wooden crate.

  Frank was about to leave when he heard a car drive up. Peering through the view hole, he saw a distinguished-looking man getting out of a Lincoln Continental. Frank took his camera and snapped a picture through the view hole as the man let himself into the warehouse. Then he pocketed the camera.

  He returned to their rental car, leaned in the window, and said to Chet, “Joe isn’t there, but a guy I’m betting is the kingpin of this operation just went into the place.”

  “Where do you suppose Joe is?” Chet asked.

  “Probably back in the shed with Vern.”

/>   Chet got out of the car and they sneaked around to the alley. An eighteen-wheel truck was parked next to the sliding door, but no one was in the shed.

  “Maybe they got hungry and went to the deli,” Chet suggested.

  “We’ll check,” Frank said with a frown. “But I don’t think they’d both take off.”

  They hurried to the delicatessen, but Joe and Vern were not there. Frank described the two boys to the Chinese proprietor, but the man couldn’t remembering seeing anyone who resembled Joe and Vern.

  Outside Chet asked, “What do you think?”

  “I think they’re in trouble, maybe being held prisoner in the warehouse.”

  “We can’t go in there.”

  “Why not?” Frank asked, heading back up the alley. “Joe and I got in there this morning.”

  “You got into trouble, too,” Chet said. “That place is full of hoods.”

  Frank stopped next to the warehouse’s restroom window. “You stay in the shed, then,” he suggested. “I’ll go in alone.”

  The window was already open. Frank made sure the room was empty, then climbed inside. Stealthily, he crept over to the door that opened into the main room.

  Hearing a grunting noise behind him, he spun around. Chet was just pulling himself over the sill.

  “I thought you didn’t want to come,” Frank whispered.

  “I didn’t. But I hate to be alone.”

  Opening the door a crack, Frank looked into the garage. Workmen were putting down their tools and preparing to go home.

  Frank whispered over his shoulder. “They’re quitting work. We better move before they start coming in to wash up.”

  He opened the door far enough to slip through and led the way to the three new cars parked near the back door. The boys crouched out of sight between two of them.

  “That’s Vern‘s!” Chet hissed, jerking a thumb at the blue sedan to their left. “It must have been delivered by that truck out there.”