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  With that he sprinted for the window, lifted it, and had one foot out when he felt a tug on the right leg as Brewster's hand closed around his ankle.

  Chapter 15

  Frank kicked back, his heel catching Brewster on the jaw. It was a soft blow but enough to finish the guard, who was really out this time. Frank sprinted for the center's exit.

  After retrieving the Firebird and phoning his dad to say he had escaped, Frank drove straight to Prometheus.

  "Mr. Hardy! I've been expecting you! Where have you been?" Mr. Winthrop greeted him.

  "I was tied up for a while," Frank answered with a straight face.

  The head of security was wearing a belted windbreaker and a pair of sun goggles as he greeted Frank at the gate to Prometheus Computing. He waved Frank into courtyard B.

  Surprised by the friendly greeting, Frank drove in with Mr. Winthrop trotting behind him. In the same spot where he and Joe had been ambushed the day before a helicopter was waiting.

  "What a difference from last time!" Frank said, stepping out of the Firebird.

  Mr. Winthrop smiled. "This time we are working together." He signaled the pilot to start the engine, then directed Frank around to the passenger side. "Your father just called a couple of minutes ago to say I should expect you. He told me all the details. Apparently your brother and a friend did a little reconnaissance work, and they think they found the kidnappers' hiding place."

  "Is it a boat in Bayport Harbor?" Frank shouted after he climbed in.

  "Exactly," Mr. Winthrop shouted back to be heard over the roar of the turning rotors. "How did you know?"

  "I've done a little reconnaissance of my own," Frank said loudly.

  Mr. Winthrop nodded, then gestured toward the helicopter pilot. "Edward's a top-notch pilot; you're in good hands. Your father will be waiting for you when you arrive in Bayport. He's on the kidnappers' tail and may have located them by then."

  "You mean Dad didn't arrange for a breakin at Prometheus after all?" Frank asked with cautious optimism.

  Mr. Winthrop laughed. "You certainly have had your ears open, haven't you? Yes, he just called a few minutes ago to arrange for a breakin - with our full knowledge and help. My men and your father's special SWAT team will be waiting to give the intruders a very rude surprise!"

  "All ri - i - ight!" Frank exclaimed, pulling the door shut. Rising slowly into the skies above Prometheus, he let out a whoop. Now if only his mom were okay . . . but he had to trust Joe and his dad to help her.

  ***

  The helicopter covered the distance between Marfield and Bayport in a little over two hours. Fenton Hardy was waiting for them at a weed-strewn parking lot next to an abandoned train yard.

  As they descended Frank looked at his watch, which now read two-thirty. He hoped they weren't too late. If Straeger had gotten there and found out Mr. Hardy wasn't home.

  When the helicopter touched down Mr. Hardy opened Frank's door. "Am I glad to see you all in one piece!" He gave Edward a friendly wave. "Come on," he urged as Frank climbed out. "We don't have any time to lose - they have Joe now, too! There's a boat waiting for us at the harbor!"

  "I didn't tell you when I called, but Straeger works undercover for MUX at the Center for Experimental Research," Frank said.

  Fenton Hardy cocked an eyebrow. "Good old MUX again, huh? Nice work, Frank - let's finish up!"

  The two Hardys ran toward a rented van at the edge of the lot and climbed in.

  In minutes they pulled up beside a slip on the Bayport waterfront. An ancient fishing boat bobbed in the water. In front of it Captain Claes stood waiting.

  "Thanks for the use of your boat, Claes!" Mr. Hardy called out. "I don't know how I can repay you."

  There was a sly glint in the captain's eyes. "Give me time. I'll think of something."

  Mr. Hardy, carrying a loaded revolver in a holster, boarded the old boat first. Frank followed, stepping around the air tanks and masks that lay on the floor of the boat.

  On Mr. Hardy's fourth tug at the engine cord, the outboard motor finally caught. The boat putted out into the harbor.

  "At this rate we'll be there by nightfall," Frank remarked.

  "It's the best the old tub can do," Mr. Hardy replied. "They'll be on the lookout for something a little more sophisticated. The element of surprise will be on our side. Give me a hand," Fenton Hardy said, grabbing a fishing net. Frank helped him hook it over the side of the boat. "We have to look authentic."

  "Right," Frank replied. "And anything we catch will be our dinner tonight."

  Before long an abandoned sailboat came into view. "That must be Joe's," Mr. Hardy said. "Let's anchor here."

  Frank threw out the anchor, then joined his dad and put on an air tank. Mr. Hardy sealed his gun in a watertight plastic pouch. Masks in place, they fell backward into the harbor and began swimming underwater.

  Frank was the first to find the anchor cable. He climbed up, peeked into the yacht to see the secluded section of the deck behind the wheelhouse, then signaled his father to come aboard.

  They huddled silently and listened to an agitated voice from inside the wheelhouse.

  "Iron Maiden, Matyus calling. ... Yes, I read you. ... It what? Speak slower. ... No. Who was caught? ... I'll report it to Straeger immediately!"

  They heard Matyus hang up the phone. Then his voice took on a hollow sound as he spoke into an intercom. "Mr. Straeger, that was Marfield - "

  "Marvelous, Matyus," Straeger replied. "I can finally release these Hardys."

  "Uh, well, not exactly, sir," Matyus said. "Frank Hardy has already escaped, and the raid on Prometheus has been turned back."

  "What do you mean, 'has been turned back?' " Straeger asked, not concerning himself with Frank's escape.

  "It seems that the raid has been ambushed, sir," Matyus said, his voice a little shaky. "Apparently it was all a setup - "

  "Whaaat?"

  "Most of the men were captured, including Todd Brewster, but two did escape."

  "That's impossible! Fenton Hardy gave me his word the doors would be open and no one would interfere. He wouldn't have been foolish enough to pull something like this!"

  "Would you like me to give you the details, sir?"

  There was a long silence. Frank stole a glance at his dad, who nodded at him and gave him a confident wink.

  "No, Captain Matyus." Straeger's voice, sounding sinister and tinny, came over the intercom system. "Set a course for the open sea. I would like you to join me down here in the engine room. At the moment I feel no bitterness or anger, only sadness."

  "Sadness, sir?"

  "Yes. It has turned out to be a very sad day - for Mrs. Hardy and her son Joe!"

  Chapter 16

  Frank felt blood rise to his face. There was no time to lose. He turned to his father.

  "Dad, I - "

  But his father wasn't there. Frank crept to the stairway and looked down, then he peered around the wheelhouse cabin.

  No Fenton Hardy.

  Was he hiding, or had he raced down the stairs?

  A sudden thought made him stay where he was. If his dad had wanted him along, he would have said so. Hadn't he jumped out of the van without explanation in the Springfield traffic the day before, only to return with the rented car that had saved them? Chances were that something was up his father's sleeve now, too.

  "Stop gawking and pull up anchor, Farrell!" Captain Matyus's voice barked to another man. "Steer this tank out into the Atlantic, top speed. I'm going down to join Straeger."

  Frank heard the wheelhouse door squeak open, then slam shut. He ducked around the cabin, taking care to stay low. Captain Matyus circled the other side and descended the stairs.

  When the captain had disappeared Frank craned his neck to look into the wheelhouse above him. He could see only one person moving around.

  Suddenly there was a loud groan inches from him. Frank jumped, his heart beating wildly.

  He looked around to see a mechanized pulle
y slowly turning, pulling the anchor cable out of the water.

  With a soft fooom the yacht's engines purred to life.

  They were on their way - out to the open Atlantic, where getaways were cleaner, where bodies could be disposed of and never found.

  Frank knew exactly what he had to do now. He slipped around to the wheelhouse door. This Farrell was alone inside, gripping the steering wheel. Frank pulled the door open. A gust of air rushing in blew two sheets off a stack of papers inside.

  Farrell let out a sigh of frustration. He bent down to scoop the papers off the floor, his back still to Frank. Frank edged forward.

  Stuffing the papers in his trouser pocket, Farrell returned to the wheel. As the boat turned a flash of sun shone through a window and glinted against the chrome on the wheel's housing.

  Frank was now three feet from him - two - Farrell stood stock-still, concentrating on his work.

  Frank took a karate stance, poised for attack. He would make a statement, and when Farrell turned, he would - Thwock.

  "Oof!"

  Frank felt a sharp pain in his gut. His breath whooshed out of his mouth as if he were a burst balloon. Stumbling backward, his arms flailing, he barely saw Farrell retract the backward kick he had just uncorked.

  "Like to attack from behind, eh?" Farrell gloated. "You should check there aren't any mirrors first!"

  Of course! Frank realized. The chrome. He was watching my reflection in the chrome He scrambled to his feet - but not before Farrell took a roundhouse swing with his right fist. Frank jerked his head back but caught part of the blow on his jaw. He staggered into the side of a table.

  Gripping the table, he yanked it back.

  It wouldn't budge.

  "Sorry, pal, it's attached," Farrell said, sending another punch to Frank's stomach.

  Frank let his reflexes do the thinking. His left arm shot out and blocked the punch. Planting a foot, he let fly a kick that connected with Farrell's chest.

  Farrell spun around and snatched a fire extinguisher off the wall next to the door. He pivoted, pointing the nozzle at Frank.

  "Pretty wimpy weapon, if you ask me," Frank said.

  "Who asked you?" Farrell replied. He squeezed the trigger, sending a jet stream of white chemical spray toward Frank.

  Frank turned and dropped to the floor. The chemical soaked the area around him. He jumped to his feet and ran to the ship's controls. With a flick of the gearshift he put the engine in neutral. To the right of the shift was a switch labeled "Anchor." He turned it from "Up" to "Down." There was an abrupt grinding noise, then a hum as the anchor lowered itself. For now, the Iron Maiden wasn't going anywhere.

  "Hey!" Farrell shouted, and he lost his footing on the cabin floor, slick with white foam. He fell with his feet in the air.

  "Well, one good turn deserves another," Frank said. As Farrell scrambled to his feet Frank connected with an uppercut to the sailor's jaw.

  Farrell flew against the wall and sank to the floor. The fire extinguisher hit the floor with a loud clank.

  Frank braced himself, but Farrell was motionless. He stepped back toward the ship-to-shore phone and snatched the receiver off the hook.

  "Operator," a faint voice said.

  Farrell's chest heaved calmly up and down. Frank unclenched his fists when he realized his adversary was unconscious.

  "Operator," the voice repeated.

  "Uh, yes," Frank spoke into the receiver. "I'd like the Bayport - "

  Just then a menacing voice filled the room, and Frank fell silent.

  Chapter 17

  "Ouch!" Joe winced as a bobby pin snapped in the lock and dug into his finger.

  "Did you get it?" Mrs. Hardy asked.

  "No, it got me," Joe replied. "I don't think this is going to work." He eyed the metal table. "Maybe if we can pry this thing out of the floor and use it as a wedge - "

  The hastening rhythm of footsteps moving toward them made him stop. Instinctively he glanced up at the phony stemware box. The lens of the hidden closed-circuit camera was still covered by the magazine he'd put up there.

  He knew Matyus would find out about it sooner or later. Joe sat down and waited for his men to come in and rip down the magazine.

  The door made a resounding clang as it swung open and hit the metal wall. Captain Matyus glowered as he stormed in, but his expression was placid compared to that of the silver-haired man next to him.

  It took Joe a moment to recognize who it was. "Hey, you're in on this thing, too, Straeger? I guess you're the stemware expert, huh?"

  Immediately Joe wished he could swallow his words. Both men had pistols, and both were pointed straight at him.

  Joe put his hands in the air and backed up. "Uh, sorry, fellas. Go ahead, take the magazines away. The camera's still in good shape; I didn't touch the lens."

  Mrs. Hardy stood up and faced Straeger. "Who are you?"

  "Mrs. Hardy, I hoped we would meet under happier circumstances," Straeger said, swinging the point of his gun to face her. "I had intended to come here as your liberator. I was prepared to have you escorted ashore with my apologies and a cheerful bon voyage. But clearly your husband regards your life - and your son's - with callous disrespect. He has failed to live up to his end of my simple bargain."

  Joe stepped in front of his mother. "Put it down, Straeger. Before I came out here I notified people on shore, so it's only a matter of time before someone tracks you down. And you'd be better off with two prisoners than with two corpses."

  Straeger's eyes were blazing with a rage that was just this side of sanity. "Unlike your father, I am a man of principle. I always live up to my promises. Therefore I have no choice." He released the gun's safety and aimed carefully between Joe's eyes. "You have your father to blame for this, not me."

  "Put it down, Straeger!"

  Straeger and Matyus wheeled around. Joe felt his breath catch in his throat.

  Standing in the door was Fenton Hardy, his gun pointed at Straeger.

  "Well," Straeger said, a smile creeping across his face, "look what the sea washed up. Nice try, Mr. Hardy, but I believe one triumph per day is quite enough for you."

  "I'm not so sure, Straeger," Mr. Hardy said. "You know, your little group is a thing of the past. Most of its members have been captured, and the ones that got away aren't likely to stick around waiting for their paychecks. So I'd suggest - "

  "That Captain Matyus and I give ourselves up?" Straeger laughed. "Like son, like father. You think the whole thing has been neatly tied up, resolved, don't you? I have unfortunate news for you. At the moment Captain Matyus's first mate is setting a course for the open sea. This ship's shabby appearance camouflages one of the fastest yachts on the East Coast. In minutes we shall be miles from anyone foolish enough to try to give chase. And without the three of you on board we will only go faster."

  "You forget, Straeger," Mr. Hardy said, "I'm armed."

  Now it was Matyus's turn to laugh. "Yes, but you're also outnumbered, two guns to one."

  Fenton Hardy nodded. "True. I am outnumbered. But one of the first things I learned as a detective was that it's not the bullets that count, but where they go."

  Four sharp cracks rang through the room, four flashes of light. The bullets embedded themselves in the corner steampipe.

  Geysers of hot steam exploded into the room. Joe and his mother spun around and crouched to the floor.

  "Duck!" Captain Matyus yelled, pulling Straeger down.

  "In the corner!" Fenton Hardy shouted to Joe.

  Joe took his mother's hand and stepped back into the brig, away from the door, but she yanked free.

  "No!" she said, her eyes focused on the spot where her husband was disappearing behind a cloud of steam. "He's going to burn to death!"

  "Come on, Mom!" Joe insisted, dragging her into the corner of their jail.

  He looked back, but the room was nothing but hot white vapor. Two shots rang out, accompanied by two sharp flashes of light.

  "Fe
nton!" Mrs. Hardy shrieked.

  There was a dull clatter. Joe tightened his grip on his mother's hand. He was having trouble seeing her now. He walked back toward the door, trying to wave a clear path through the steam.

  "Get them!" came Captain Matyus's voice.

  Just then Joe felt an iron grip on his forearm. He planted his feet and pushed against the unseen adversary.

  "Joe, it's me!" He heard his father's whisper. "I blew the lock on the gate. Come on!"

  Led by Mr. Hardy, the three of them blundered forward through the steam. Joe gritted his teeth against the searing heat. He knew that if they got too near the pipe, it would be disastrous.

  "Get them," Straeger said, echoing Matyus. He was off to the Hardys' left. Fenton Hardy changed directions slightly and picked up the pace.

  A moment later Joe felt the air temperature change. His skin began to cool.

  They turned a corner, and the air began to clear. Ahead of them stretched a corridor Joe hadn't seen.

  "Where are we?" Joe asked.

  "Haven't the foggiest," his father replied. "No pun intended."

  All three of them spun around as Straeger loudly announced their escape on the intercom. Just then the clonk of heavy footsteps sounded on metal. "Down here!" an unfamiliar voice called out.

  "They're coming out of the woodwork," Joe said. "They must have heard the shots."

  They backed up and looked into a passageway on their left. Three more crew members, their faces grim and determined, were dropping through a hatch at the end of it.

  "This way!" Joe said. He led them toward the right instead.

  At the end of the hall Joe could make out a faint square outline of light on the ceiling. A small hatch. "We're out of here!" he shouted, sprinting toward the ladder that led to the hatch.

  Joe scampered to the top and pushed against the hatch, once - twice.

  It wouldn't budge.

  "They're coming!" Mrs. Hardy said.

  "Get down, Joe!" Mr. Hardy demanded. He pointed the pistol at the hatch.

  Joe jumped down and stood back. Mr. Hardy took aim and fired.

  Click. The sound was small and pathetic.