The Genius Thieves Read online

  Frank ignored him and went ahead to find C-42. His eyes widened as he read the names on the door: "Goldman, Farnsworth, and Pierce."

  "The three honchos at my tribunal!" Frank whispered as Joe read the names. "No wonder they wanted to expel me! They're doing the thefts!"

  Muffled, agitated voices could be heard through the door. Frank and Joe put their ears against it to listen.

  At first they had a hard time sorting out the sounds — hurried voices, computer noises, the sound of a phone hanging up — a modem — the closing of a window. But soon the voices became more distinct, and the brothers could make out snatches of whispered conversation: "Let them get away?"

  "I couldn't help it. They're more — "

  "Found out where we are!"

  "I knew we should never have gotten involved! We're all going to be expelled!"

  "Where's our money?"

  "Haven't we transferred enough by now — "

  "No! We need a million — we're almost there!"

  Joe turned to Frank and said, "Let's throw some excitement into their lives." He knocked on the door.

  All at once the voices stopped. Joe knocked again. There was frantic shuffling inside.

  "Who is it?" a very polite voice sang out.

  "Subscription boys for the Prison Gazette!" Joe answered.

  He was met by silence once again.

  "Open up, fellas, unless you want to pay for a new door!" Joe said.

  The door opened halfway. Ty Farnsworth peeked out. "Frank! I didn't recognize your voice!" he said. "That's a crazy sense of humor you have." He looked at Joe. "I don't believe we've met."

  "We'll all have plenty of time to get to know each other," said Frank. "Mind if we step in?"

  "Of course not," said Ty. He opened the door all the way. Frank and Joe walked in to see Lloyd and Stu lying casually on their beds, reading textbooks.

  "Studying awfully late, aren't you?" said Frank. "I guess you have to squeeze your work in around bank swindles."

  Lloyd rose calmly to his feet and gave Frank a puzzled smile. "That's a very strange joke, Frank. Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

  "He's feeling a lot better than you'll be feeling behind bars!" said Joe.

  Lloyd looked at his roommates, who both shrugged their shoulders. "I'm afraid you're making no sense. I'll have to ask you to — "

  "Why don't I just spell it out for you, Pierce?" said Frank. "The three of you have learned that playing with computers can be profitable. For the past couple of weeks you've been using this computer to loot the Bayport Bank and Trust for hundreds of thousands of dollars, transferring them to some secret account. I admire you for catching on to me early. You tried to expel me, set my room on fire, forge my English exam, and then — "

  "This is totally ridiculous!" said Lloyd.

  "Is it? You told me you'd read my admissions essay, Lloyd—and you're in my English class. Who else would know what my handwriting looked like?"

  All three roommates laughed. "And you, Goldman," Frank said, "you went after me with that oar, pretending it was because you were jealous. You probably couldn't care less about Sarah." Then he turned to Ty. "And was it you, Farnsworth, who took my roommate Arnie's key at the Young Turk the night of the fire?"

  Stu and Ty both started to protest, but Frank cut them off. "And then, when the going was getting really rough, one of you put on a mask and tried to kill us off—as well as Dwight Trilby! I think you'll have a lot of explaining to do when the police get here. And you'd be wise not to try anything — assault and battery will just make it easier to convict you!"

  Lloyd folded his arms thoughtfully. "I think the stress here at Chartwell has gotten to you and your friend, Frank. Maybe you should sit down with us and relax. Let me take your jackets."

  Lloyd sauntered over to the closet and opened the door.

  Frank and Joe were completely unprepared for what came next.

  Out of the closet stepped a man — a man with a mask and a gun!

  Chapter 17

  FRANK AND JOE lifted their hands in the air. The masked man waved them over to the window with his gun. Frank and Joe obeyed. Then he continued waving.

  "Y - you mean you want us to jump?" Joe said. He looked down on the blacktop three stories below.

  The masked man nodded.

  Lloyd Pierce began fidgeting. He looked over at Stu and Ty, who also seemed uncomfortable.

  "Come on," Lloyd said to the man. "I thought you said no violence."

  The man waved toward the window with even more conviction.

  "Hey, hey!" said Stu, grabbing the masked man's arm. "If you do this, they'll blame the deaths on us! They'll say we pushed them!"

  The mysterious man wrenched his arm loose. With one swift blow, he whacked Stu over the head with his pistol.

  A hush fell over the room as Stu crumpled to the floor. Lloyd and Ty looked shocked.

  "Uh — okay! J - just tell us what to do," said Ty. "And we'll do it—right, Lloyd?"

  Lloyd was dumbfounded. Ty poked him roughly in the back. "Right, Lloyd?" Ty repeated.

  "Oh!" Lloyd said, shocked back to reality. "Right! Anything you want!"

  The masked man pointed to the window again with his gun and made a lifting motion.

  "You want us to open the window?" Ty asked.

  The man then pantomimed a push with his hands. "And then push them out?" said Lloyd, terrified. "Wait a minute — "

  Ty was already walking over to the window. "Do what he wants, Lloyd!" he snapped. "He's got a gun!"

  "There's got to be another way!" Lloyd said. He stepped forward to plead with the man, crossing in front of Frank and Joe.

  That was all Joe needed. He grabbed Lloyd's outstretched arm and threw him into the masked man. The two of them fell onto the floor, and the man let loose a shot.

  Thwoosh — Crack! The bullet whistled through the silencer and hit the computer. Sparks flew through the air and the masked man shielded his eyes. With lightning speed, Joe ripped the computer monitor out of its socket and hurled it at the man.

  Both Lloyd and the masked man scrambled away as the heavy box flew toward them. Frank and Joe then headed for the door.

  They heard the sound of crashing metal as they ran into the hallway. They bolted down the stairwell and out the front door, past the sleeping guard.

  "Let's get as far away from here as we can!" yelled Frank.

  "Nobody's tailing us!" Joe called out, looking over his shoulder.

  "They will! Come on!"

  Two shots sliced the air; one hit the ground near Joe's foot and the other dented a nearby metal Dumpster. Frank and Joe dove behind the Dumpster.

  "Where are they?" Frank whispered.

  Joe carefully stuck his head above the Dumpster. No one was in the courtyard, but he heard voices. He looked up to see three figures on a catwalk along the top of Ives Hall.

  "They're on the roof!" Joe said.

  "Ives is the tallest building on campus. They'll see us wherever we go!" said Frank.

  "Have no fear." Joe picked up two large rocks and hurled them as far as he could. They rustled leaves and branches as they fell through the trees behind Ives.

  Ty, Lloyd, and the masked man rushed to the other end of the catwalk. Two more muffled shots sounded, but farther away.

  "Look at that! They think we're all the way over there!" said Frank, amazed.

  "Sometimes the oldest tricks are the best," Joe replied with a grin.

  "That sounds familiar," Frank said.

  While the rooftop snipers were distracted, Frank and Joe quietly scurried away from school grounds.

  After a while they reached residential streets in Kirkland and felt safely distant from campus. They sat on a curb.

  "This is ridiculous," said Joe, looking around. "We're totally useless here. Let's wait a few minutes for the three of them to get off the roof and then go back!"

  Frank shook his head, deep in thought. "Too risky," he said. "Besides, we've got to
intercept Dad. Police or no police, he's not going to be expecting homicidal maniacs on a prep-school campus."

  "Right! That's why I think we should go in and get the van!"

  "No," said Frank evenly. "Better to let the van come to us."

  Joe gave Frank a quizzical look. "What? Maybe you are cracking under the stress!"

  "Don't forget—there's still someone on campus who's on our side."

  "Sarah! Of course!"

  "You catch on fast!" said Frank. "We'll call and ask her to drive the van here! Now all we have to do is find a phone."

  They ran five blocks into the outskirts of downtown Kirkland. An old, abandoned gas station stood by the edge of a side street. The windows were boarded up and the pumps had rusted from lack of use—but the pay phone still worked.

  Frank inserted a quarter and dialed. "Sarah, this is Frank — yes, I'm all right. I'm at the corner of Archer and Elliot in Kirkland, at an old gas station.

  "Listen, can you drive our van over here? ... There's a spare set of keys in a secret compartment near the steering wheel. It looks like a cigarette lighter, but just push it in three times and turn it twice to the right, and the keys will pop out ... As soon as you can! Don't waste a second. And don't let anybody see you!"

  As they waited for the van, Joe paced back and forth. "This is a dumb idea, Frank! It'll take her forever to get here. We might as well walk — "

  "Trust me," pleaded Frank.

  Sure enough, within five minutes the van was speeding down Archer Street toward them at full throttle.

  Frank and Joe ran into the street, waving their arms at the van. As the van raced closer, they motioned for it to pull into the gas station. But it didn't slow down.

  Frank gestured broadly with his arms. "What is she doing?" he asked. The van veered into the left side Of the road and headed straight for them.

  "Look out!" screamed Frank. He and Joe jumped into the hedges by the road and the van missed them by inches. It swerved away from the gas pumps and screeched to a stop thirty yards down the road.

  Frank and Joe sprang up from the ground as the van door opened.

  Out stepped the masked man.

  The color drained from Frank's face. "She betrayed us," he said.

  Without saying another word, the brothers took off down Elliot Place. The road was unpaved, and it was quite narrow — too narrow for the van—as it wound into the woods. A wild shot passed through the branches of the trees above them as they flew along the dirt road.

  Before long the trees gave way to a clearing. Frank and Joe found themselves running through a freshly cut field of grass. Now they were able to pick up the pace—until Frank tripped over a huge rock.

  "Yeow!" he yelled as he rolled onto the ground. He looked over to see what had tripped him, and instantly he could tell where they were. The huge rock was a tombstone.

  Frank picked himself up and ran after his brother, who was dodging tombstones left and right.

  Behind them they could hear the heavy breathing of the masked man, in close pursuit. With a burst of speed, Frank and Joe ran past a marble statue and over a hill. On the other side was another section of the graveyard. This one was newer — there were several trucks around, and shovels and pickaxes littered the ground.

  Another shot whizzed by them and shattered the window of a truck about five feet to the left of them. They ran sharply the other way—right into an open grave!

  Joe's momentum pulled him over the grave, and he crashed to the ground on the other side. But Frank tumbled headfirst into the deep hole, hitting the bottom with a thud.

  Joe tried to get up, but an agonizing jolt of pain shot up from his leg. His face twisted into a grimace as his sprained ankle buckled beneath him. He looked up to see the masked man standing on top of the hill with his hands on his hips. Grasping a shovel that was sticking out of a pile of dirt next to him, Joe forced himself to stand up.

  "Don't bother," said the masked man as he walked steadily toward Frank and Joe. "How convenient—you've already chosen your plot. Looks like it's big enough for two. Shall we test it?"

  He circled around the grave toward Joe, with his gun drawn. Joe tried to back away but fell again. He lay helplessly as the man stood directly above him. He pointed his gun at Joe and looked down into the grave.

  "Hello, Frank," he said. The muffled voice sounded familiar to Frank, but the man was trying to disguise it by speaking in a growling bass whisper. "I wish you hadn't brought this on yourself, but you insisted on being nosy with the wrong person."

  "Who are you?" snapped Frank. "At least you can give us that satisfaction before bumping us off!"

  The masked man reared back his head and let out a deep-throated laugh. "I think it's my turn to be satisfied," he said. "Now, I'm sure you're thinking that I plan to shoot you here in cold blood." He grinned as he looked at the brothers' fearful faces. "But you're wrong. Why should I perform that nasty task when you can do it yourselves?" With that, he pulled the aerosol can out of his pocket. Joe was trapped.

  Pressing his gun to Joe's throat, the man brought the aerosol to his prisoner's face. "Ever hear of pheromones? They're airborne chemicals that trigger emotions. Love — fear — rage — "

  "Joe!" Frank yelled, but he could suggest nothing. One flick of the trigger and Joe would be history. Frank cringed as he watched the pheromone spray waft around his brother. He knew which emotion this spray would bring—the same rage that had turned Dwight Trilby into a homicidal maniac—and Trilby had only gotten a brief taste of the spray.

  The masked man smiled and backed away from Joe, still pointing the gun. "Now," he said. "Stand up."

  Joe struggled to his feet, despite the injured ankle. "Pick that up," the man said, indicating the shovel. Joe obeyed.

  By now the man had backed around to the other side of the grave. He cocked his gun. "Now, dig."

  Frank and Joe both looked at him in disbelief.

  "You heard me — fill the hole!" He fired a warning shot two feet above Joe's head.

  "Do as he says, Joe!" Frank shouted.

  Meekly, Joe threw a small shovelful of soil on top of Frank.

  "Faster," the man commanded.

  Joe dumped in some more soil.

  "Faster!" The man was now screaming.

  All of a sudden, it seemed that Joe had forgotten his ankle injury. His shovelfuls became larger. He picked up the pace of his digging, grunting with the effort.

  "Excellent," the man said with sinister glee. He could see that the pheromones were taking effect.

  Joe was now shoveling furiously, throwing mounds of dirt around Frank. Within ten minutes Frank was practically covered.

  "Joe! Joe! Think of what you're doing!" Frank yelled.

  But Joe was now foaming at the mouth. His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and he was babbling nonsense words.

  Just as Frank was about to be covered, Joe began to shriek insanely. He backed away from the grave as if he were being attacked.

  "Finish your job!" the masked man demanded.

  But Joe was too far gone. He flailed his shovel around in midair, battling something that only he could see.

  The masked man aimed his gun at Joe. "I was hoping not to do this, my friend, but you've failed me."

  Bracing the gun with two outstretched arms, he fired.

  Chapter 18

  JOE DIDN'T SEE the flare of gunpowder from the shot. He didn't hear the bullet rip through the air toward his face.

  And he didn't even feel the impact as it ricocheted off his shovel blade!

  A red haze of rage had rolled in between him and the world. He swung the shovel violently and ran around in circles.

  The masked man leveled his gun again and tried to follow Joe with his sights. "Stand still, you fool!" he snapped, his voice rising with frustration.

  Joe's motions just became faster and jerkier. The masked man cocked his gun.

  In blind rage, Joe howled and flung the shovel across the grave. The man dropped
his gun as the shovel flew toward his face.

  He ducked out of the way—but not in time. The shovel blade conked him on the side of the head.

  He fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Meanwhile, Frank had almost dug himself out from the grave. He looked around at his brother, who was now tearing around the graveyard, fighting with the tombstones.

  Frank lifted his elbows up to the top of the soil. With a mighty heave, he pulled his body out of the dirt by pushing down with his arms.

  Once free, he ran after Joe. "Joe!" he cried. "It's Frank! Your brother, Frank!"

  Joe spun around and saw Frank running toward him. His eyes popped open and he howled again. He ran away from Frank, stopping to pick up any objects he could throw: shovels, pickaxes, rocks. The objects flew toward Frank, and he kept ducking away.

  Joe kept running until he reached a parked truck. He climbed inside and began pushing and pulling knobs, trying to start the engine. Frank reached the truck just as Joe accidentally turned on the radio full-blast.

  Reacting to the sound of a blaring heavy-metal band, Joe flung himself out of the other side of the truck and began pulling at his hair. He lurched around spastically to the music, gouging himself as if trying to pick off invisible animals from his skin.

  "Joe! Calm down! Listen to me!" Frank pleaded. He tried to grab Joe but couldn't get a grip. As the music moved faster and faster, Joe's motions became more and more violent.

  Frank climbed into the truck to turn off the radio. But all that was left of the On/Off switch was a hole where Joe had pulled it out. Frank banged on the radio, but it was no use.

  It was hopeless. Frank closed his eyes and bellowed at the top of his lungs: "Stop it, Joe! You're going to kill yourself!"

  Suddenly a spark flew out of the radio. Dzzzzit! The song stopped, and Joe collapsed in a heap on the ground.

  Frank jumped out of the truck and ran to his brother. Joe's pulse was normal; Frank breathed a sigh of relief. From behind him came the sound of voices. He looked back to see two familiar figures walking over the hill toward him — Jed Wilson and Malcolm Rogers! In Rogers's hand was an Electrojam.

  "Is he going to be all right?" Rogers asked.