Highway Robbery (5 page)

"Is your door locked?" Frank asked Pat as the four masked toughs split up and approached the truck's cab, two on each side.

"Yes, for whatever good it'll do," she said.

"Come on, open up, lady!" yelled one of the bandits, swinging his bat close to the window. Pat didn't react.

"Joe and Tony ought to be here any second," whispered Frank. "If we can hold them off for a minute or so - "

"Once they get to smashing windows, we'll be lucky to have a minute," Pat said. Frank saw her staring nervously down at the two large men on her side, and he didn't blame her for being scared.

Suddenly there was a loud clang of metal striking metal on Frank's side of the cab. Spinning around in his seat, he saw a hijacker swing his crowbar into the metalwork of the cab just below his door.

"Open up, kid!" he called. "You know what we want. Make it easy on yourself and don't give us any trouble."

"Sorry, but I'm not allowed to talk to strangers," Frank called out.

"Oh, a wise punk, huh?" called the goon. He angrily climbed up toward Frank's door, raising his heavy bar to smash it into the window.

As he did, Frank opened the door and kicked it with his right leg, catching the man in the mask unprepared and knocking him to the ground. Quickly he slammed the door closed again and locked it.

Pat screamed as a baseball bat whacked loudly against the safety glass in her window, cracking it with a cobweb pattern. One more shot from the bat would shatter it. She tried what Frank had done on his side, using the door itself to jar the intruder loose. But her guy grabbed the door handle and tossed his bat down, catching hold of Pat's left arm. He pulled hard and managed to drag her halfway out of her seat.

Frank snatched up a large, heavy flashlight from the tool compartment behind his seat and brought it down hard on the man's hand. The hijacker yelled and let go of Pat's arm, but he still hung on to the door. Pat pulled on it but couldn't close it. Out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw another hood appear in his window, tire iron poised to strike.

A horn blared and headlights suddenly lit up the whole scene. Frank let out a sigh of relief as the black van screeched to a stop within a few feet of the action, and Joe and Tony jumped out.

Frank watched Joe leap for the tough who was hanging on to the driver's side door and fling him to the pavement.

Meanwhile, Tony, holding a bat of his own, rushed around the front of the rig. He feinted and dodged one big goon, then hit the guy holding the tire iron behind the knee with his bat, so that the guy suddenly dropped out of Frank's line of vision.

Frank knew that the momentum had shifted. Opening his door, he dropped lightly to the ground, shouting for Pat to do the same.

"Let's get out of here!" came a shrill cry from one of the ski masks. The four men made a rush for their vehicles, two limping badly. The tow truck started to roar away, burning rubber, as its passenger dived for the seat and closed the door. Tony tried tackling one of the remaining two, but the beefy man shook him off and joined his buddy in the step van. That, too, took off fast, leaving the Hardys, Tony, and Pat standing in the quiet nighttime road.

"Should we go after them?" asked Joe.

"I don't think it'd be too hot an idea," Frank replied. "We had the element of surprise working for us just now, but who knows what they'll have waiting for us next. For now, let's just be satisfied that this hijacking didn't work."

"Hey, guys, I got the license number on that tow truck!" Tony shouted, his face still flushed from the excitement of the brief action. "That would help us nail them, right?"

Joe slapped Tony on the back. "Write it down, Tony. Nice work."

Pat smiled at her three guards. "You did a fine job on those apes. Maybe they'll think twice before going after a Lombard truck again."

"Maybe," Frank answered. "But if they do think twice, they might just be better prepared next time. Let's get back on the road."

"Tell you what," said Pat. "Why don't you head back to Bayport with Tony and your brother. I can take this baby the rest of the way. It's just a short hop."

"You sure, Pat?" Joe asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure. That bunch won't try anything again tonight. Go on back and tell Matt what happened. He's waiting to hear from us, and he's overdue for some good news. I'll be back tomorrow."

They said good night, and with Tony now in the backseat behind the Hardys, Joe turned the van around and started back.

As they drove, Tony spoke up. "It seemed to me like the guys we ran into the other day - you know, at that warehouse - might have been two of these guys."

Frank glanced back and said, "There are a lot of ski masks around, Tony."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "But the guy who ran over me in the warehouse sure felt about the same size and shape as the one I grabbed tonight."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you're right," Joe said, studying Tony in the rear-view mirror. "There are so many connections between what went down there and what's happening to Lombard Hauling." He sighed. "I wish Matt would open up to us more. Tony, do you know why he won't bring the law into this?"

"He's afraid that someone in the family - "

"That's part of it," Frank said. "But I think there's more to it than your uncle's letting on. Let's get over there now. Maybe he'll still be there, and maybe he'll be ready to level with us."

"Let's hope Dad got some information on Mickey Vane and the owners of the warehouse," said Joe.

"And don't forget to check out who owns that tow truck," insisted Tony.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. The excitement of the fight with the hijackers had worn off, and they all felt exhausted. As they pulled up in front of Lombard, Joe noticed that the office lights were on.

"Great!" he said. "Matt is still here. He must be waiting for news on the shipment. Let's give him the good word and try to pump him for a little more information."

As the three boys were walking toward the office, they suddenly heard something.

"Listen!" Frank said.

Loud voices were coming from Matt's office, as were thumps and banging sounds.

"Sounds like furniture is being thrown around," Joe said, a frown creasing his forehead.

He broke into a run, with the other two just behind him. But before he reached the office door, it flew open, and a pale and frightened Felix Kinney ran out.

He spotted the boys and raced up to them, wringing his hands.

"You've got to stop them!" he yelled. "Stop them right now. They're going to kill each other!"

Frank raced ahead and reached the door a split second before Joe. Flinging it open, he saw Matt Simone and Hal Brady battling inside. They couldn't move much in the cramped office, but Matt had the driver in a headlock, and Hal was landing chopping punches on Matt's stomach. Both men were breathing heavily. Furniture was knocked over, and papers were strewn on the floor.

Tony dodged past the Hardys, grabbed his uncle's arm, and tried to pull him away. "Uncle Matt, cut it out! Come on, this is crazy!"

Matt shook him off and dived back at Hal.

Frank and Joe exchanged a quick look, then leaped into action. Each grabbing hold of a fighter, they dragged them apart. After a moment's struggle the three boys were able to separate Matt and Hal. The two men stood gasping for air. There was a cut at the corner of Matt's mouth, Frank noticed, and Hal was going to have a black eye.

"Get your gear together and get out of here," growled Matt when he'd caught his breath. "You're fired!"

"Fired, huh?" Hal glared at his boss. "Before I'm through, you won't have a company to fire anybody from!"

Hal stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

"What started that?" Tony demanded.

Matt wouldn't discuss it, other than to say, "Nobody tells me how to run my business."

Focusing first on Tony, then on Joe and Frank, he suddenly exclaimed, "Hey, what are you guys doing back here? Where's Pat? What happened to the truck?"

Frank quickly explained about the hijack attempt, and how it had been stopped cold. "Pat said she could make it the rest of the way without an escort. She ought to be there within an hour. Score one for the good guys."

Matt sat in his desk chair and let out a long, slow breath. "Oh, boy. You just took a big load off my mind."

Leaning forward, Joe said, "Matt, we need to talk some more."

Matt held up a hand. "Not tonight, okay? It's late, very late, we're all tired, and I want to close up here and go home. You should, too."

Joe frowned, but he knew Matt had a point. They'd all had a rough day. Saying good night, he, Frank, and Tony went out to the van. As they walked, Felix joined them.

"Thanks for stepping in back there," Felix told them. "They've both got such tempers, and they're too big for me - I couldn't have separated them if I'd tried."

Joe paused and faced Felix. "What's the story between those two?" he asked. "Do you know?"

Felix shook his head sadly. "Not really. Oh, I know that there's been trouble brewing for a while, a lot of bad feeling, but I don't know why. Matt won't say, although he usually talks to me about his business problems."

"You put in long hours," Frank observed.

"Not always," Felix replied with a wan smile. "But sometimes things just pile up. Well, good night. See you tomorrow."

As they drove toward Tony's house, with Frank behind the wheel, Joe said, "How does Hal Brady look as an inside member of a gang? He seems to have it in for Matt. That might be a motive."

"Could be," Frank said. "We'll check him out, find out if he has a record or anything." He flicked his gaze up to the rear-view mirror. "Meanwhile, there's been a pair of headlights behind us ever since we left Lombard. I want to see if it's a coincidence."

He made a complicated series of turns, keeping an eye on the mirror the whole time. After a few minutes he said, "They're still on our tail."

"Lose 'em," said Joe. He called out to Tony in the backseat, "I hope your seat belt is fastened."

The van was equipped with a supercharged engine, and Frank floored the gas pedal, throwing the three of them back against their seats. They raced away from the trailing car, but it sped up, taking a sharp right turn with a squeal of tires as it tried to stay with the Hardys' van.

Frank had studied high performance driving. He knew just how fast the van could corner and when to downshift drifting into a tight curve. As he roared along, missing curbs and hydrants by a hairbreadth, the pursuing headlights gradually lost ground. After some more maneuvers, the gap grew to a couple of hundred yards.

Frank downshifted, swung sharply into an unlit alley, and turned off the van's lights. A moment later whoever had been following them went speeding past - in a large, powerful tow truck.

"Was that the one those hijackers had?" Tony asked.

"Either that," said Joe, "or an exact copy. But if it was the same guys, at least we know they didn't go after Pat and the truck again."

They waited a few minutes to make sure the tow truck would not reappear.

"We shook them," Frank said.

Joe yawned. "Let's call it a night. We'll be short on sleep as it is."

Frank nodded. He pulled back out into the street, dropped Tony off at his house, and then drove home. By the time he had pulled into the driveway and he and Joe were out and locking the doors of the van, Frank was yawning, too. He felt exhausted and ready to catch what sleep he could.

He came instantly alert, however, as a heavy-duty motor sounded in the night. Spinning around quickly, he saw a hulking tow truck pull across the entrance to their driveway. Behind it was a large step van, which stopped at the curb.

Two men got out of each vehicle and spread out. They were masked and carried heavy lengths of pipe.

Slowly they began to close in.

Frank and Joe set themselves back to back.

"Hi, there!" Frank said brightly. "You know, guys, we have to stop meeting like this."

The tallest of the four - was it the guy Tony had hit behind the knees earlier that evening? Joe wondered - spoke. His voice was a throaty whisper.

"You two been messing with the wrong people. You got a lesson to learn about minding other people's business."

"Folks keep telling me I'm a slow learner," Joe said. He shifted his eyes and his weight as the men moved closer.

The hood closest to the van was short and broad with a barrel chest. "Oh, a wise guy!" he said in a rough, nasal voice. "How'd you like some body work on your wheels, wise guy?"

He turned and, gripping his pipe with both hands, he slammed it into the black surface of the van's rear door.

There was a harsh metallic crunch, and suddenly an earsplitting horn went off, filling the quiet night air. Up and down the street, lights went on in houses and the shadows of faces appeared in windows.

The taller goon snapped, "You moron, you set off their car alarm! Let's get out of here!"

"Leaving so soon?" asked Frank. "But we were just getting to know you."

The short, squat goon took a step toward Frank, pipe raised, before the taller guy yelled, "Move it, you idiot! The cops could show up any minute!"

They ran for their trucks, but the one who had hit the van turned back and shouted, "Next time you won't be so lucky, wise guy!"

Fenton Hardy came running out of the house in his robe as the gang barreled down the street and around the corner. Frank shut the alarm off. When he, Joe, and their father went inside, they found Mrs. Hardy in the living room, sleepy and worried.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing, Mom," replied Joe. "Some prowlers set off the alarm. Everything's under control."

Fenton turned to his wife. "I'm just going to talk to Frank and Joe for a few minutes."

Mrs. Hardy sighed. "The only thing worse for your sleep than being married to a detective is having them for children!" she exclaimed. But there was a smile on her face when she left the room.

After settling down in Fenton's office, Frank and Joe told him of the day's events, up to the getaway of the gang moments before.