Speed Times Five (12 page)

The pack dipped and swooped around the small islets dotting the edge of Grand Isle, each racer looking for the best water—the best conditions to outrun the other competitors.

A racer near the front of the group hit a submerged log and tumbled into the cold water. She
popped to the surface immediately and waved for the trailing rescue crews.

Her accident, though, forced Lupin and Hawk to veer out of the way and cost them both precious time. The rest of the pack took advantage of the mishap and nearly caught the leaders.

Frank glanced back as the rescue boat picked up the floundering racer.

“A normal accident, you think?” Joe asked.

“At this point, who can tell?” Frank replied, frustration showing through in his voice. “Let's just catch the leaders.”

He throttled up and zoomed through the pack toward Hawk and Lupin. Joe followed in his wake, angling for the smooth water to save time and fuel.

They passed between Maggie Collins and Robert Frid, neither of whom was taking the best tack. Quentin Curtis was hugging closer to the islands than the rest and remained slightly in front of the brothers, though behind Lupin and Hawk.

As the Hardys set their sights on the leaders, something to the east caught their eye. A huge black SeaZoom burst into the lake from behind one of the small barrier islands.

“Another spectator, maybe?” Joe asked.

“If he is, he's coming in awfully fast,” Frank said. “Doesn't he know the race has the right of way?”

If the driver of the black jetboat knew, he didn't care. Rather than veering off as he neared the racers, he drove straight toward the pack.

13 Shipwrecked

“Look out!” Joe cried as the black SeaZoom swooped toward them.

At the last second, though, the intruder turned and fell into pace with the rest of the pack.

“Who does he think he is?” Joe asked.

The other racers had spotted the intruder as well and cast nervous glances at the black-helmeted rider in their midst.

The black jetboat was larger and faster than the one-person SeaZooms the competitors were riding. It paced the group easily as its driver checked out the individual racers.

“I think he's looking for something,” Frank said.

No sooner had Frank spoken than the black-garbed racer zoomed ahead of the Hardys and to the left, toward the small islands.

“He's heading for Quentin Curtis!” Joe said.

The black SeaZoom rocketed toward where the college student was navigating the smooth waters closer to the shore. The intruder cut in front of Curtis, forcing the racer to veer sharply.

Curtis turned toward the islands to get out of the new racer's way. The black craft dogged him, forcing him farther into the shallows. Curtis fumbled for his emergency radio, his wet fingers having trouble getting a grip on the radio's plastic surface.

The black SeaZoom dashed past him on the right. The bigger craft's wake shook Curtis's jetboat, and he lost hold of the emergency phone. It tumbled through the air and landed in the lake.

Curtis tried to turn back toward the rest of the field, but the black boat cut him off once more. Even as the two moved down the lake, the intruder was slowly but surely forcing Quentin Curtis toward the rocky shoreline.

Seeing their friend's predicament, Maggie Collins and Robert Frid left the pack and angled toward Curtis and the intruder.

“I don't know what's going on here,” Frank said into his walkie-talkie, “but I think we should put a stop to it.”

Joe nodded. “We're closer than Curtis's friends,” he said. “It means giving up any chance of winning the race, though.”

Frank paused for only a moment. “If that's the way it's got to be . . . ,” he said. He angled his boat for the shoals and turned the throttle up all the way.

Side by side the Hardys shot over the water, heading toward Curtis and the black SeaZoom. Collins and Frid trailed behind them, but they were neither as close to Curtis nor as skilled in their boats as the brothers.

The black racer seemed to notice the pursuit and pressed his harassment of Curtis. He cut closer and closer to the harried student, barely missing colliding with the smaller SeaZoom. Curtis maneuvered his boat frantically, trying to avoid the rocky shoals, and the larger craft circling him.

Curtis dodged, then wove, then nearly floundered. He turned too sharply and water washed over the back of his SeaZoom. The black racer darted past, reached out with one hand, and yanked Curtis from the saddle.

The college student sailed through the air for several feet before crashing face first into the water. The intruder swung back around and threw a rope around the smaller craft. Then he gunned the engine and headed for a channel between the small islands along the coast with Curtis's SeaZoom in tow.

Curtis bobbed to the surface, his head and neck supported by his life preserver.

“What is going on here?” Joe asked.

Frank shrugged. “It seems like a lot of trouble to steal a SeaZoom,” he said. “We'd better get to Curtis. Even with that life vest he might still drown if he's unconscious.”

Curtis swayed gently in the waves as the brothers came to his rescue.

“He's out cold, all right,” Joe said. “Get on the horn and get the rescue team in here.” He pulled near the unconscious racer and hopped off his SeaZoom.

“Check,” Frank said, holstering his walkie-talkie and taking out the emergency radio.

Using rescue swimming techniques, Joe quickly towed Curtis alongside Frank's watercraft. “I don't think he's hurt badly,” Joe said. “The water's pretty chilly, though.”

“The medics are on their way,” Frank said. “And here come Curtis's friends, too.”

Maggie Collins and Robert Frid skidded over the waves toward the Hardys and the unconscious student. The Hardys saw concern in the eyes of the other coeds.

“Is he all right?” Maggie asked, pulling off her helmet.

“We should try to get him out of the water,” Joe responded. “It's pretty cold and we don't want him going into shock.”

Working together, they lifted Curtis aboard the back of Maggie Collins's SeaZoom. Curtis groaned and coughed. “Don't move him too much before the EMTs arrive,” Joe said. “He might have some internal injuries.”

Collins cradled her friend's helmeted head on her lap while Frid kept both their boats steady.

“Do you have any idea who might have done this, or why?” Frank asked the students.

Collins and Frid shook their heads. “I can't
imagine,” Collins said. “I don't know why anyone would want to hurt Quentin.”

Joe climbed back on board his SeaZoom. “Was there some reason someone might have wanted to steal that SeaZoom?” he asked.

Collins and Frid exchanged a nervous glance.

“You don't think he wants the medicine, do you?” Collins asked.

“It couldn't be,” Frid said. “The medicine can't be worth
that
much.”

“What medicine?” Frank and Joe asked simultaneously.

“A guy back in the States hired us to bring some meds across the border for him,” Collins replied. “He said his mother needed them, and the price was too high in the U.S. We were bringing back a whole year's supply.”

Frank nodded. “I've heard that the Canadian health-care system sometimes makes prescriptions less expensive than in the U.S.”

“Someone delivered the meds to us just before the start of the Speed Times Five competition,” Frid said. “We stashed it with our race equipment and took turns carrying it during the race.”

“Let me guess,” Joe said. “Quentin Curtis was carrying it today.”

Robert Frid and Maggie Collins nodded sheepishly. “It was in the storage compartment under his seat—along with his emergency gear.”

Frank let out a long, slow breath. “You two take care of your friend. The medics will be here soon,”
Frank said. “Come on, Joe. We've got work to do.”

“Are you getting back in the race?” Maggie Collins asked, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

“No,” Frank said. “We're going after the guy who did this.”

He and Joe kicked their SeaZooms back into high gear and sped away on the same course the black SeaZoom had taken.

Joe hauled out his walkie-talkie again. “I guess it didn't occur to the three of them that this was a pretty complex plan just to smuggle prescription medicine,” he said.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I think that black racer, whoever he is, has bigger fish to fry.”

“Among the racers, Lupin and Hawk were at the top of my list,” Joe said. “But they were dueling for the lead, and I doubt either one could have doubled back and changed SeaZooms. It could be Hawk's crew, though, or one of the thugs we ran into before.”

“We saw Pierre at the boat launch,” Frank said. “Though he could have gotten ahead of us using a car or chopper, I suppose. Or it could be Jacques in that boat.”

“We'll know as soon as we catch this perp,” Joe replied.

The brothers raced between the small islands and soon caught sight of the rogue SeaZoom once more. Though the intruder's vessel was larger and faster, towing Curtis's boat was slowing it down.

He cut through the strait into Mallett's Bay with the Hardys in hot pursuit. Water sprayed from behind the brothers' SeaZooms and dripped from Joe's racing suit.

“How are you doing, Joe?” Frank asked.

“I've been warmer,” Joe said, shivering slightly. “I'll heat things up but good, though, when we catch this joker.”

The black boat skirted toward Grand Isle again, trying to put some smaller islets between itself and the brothers. Slowly but surely, though, the Hardys were gaining on him.

Joe glanced at his brother. “It just occurred to me—if this is a smuggling scam, the guy behind it might
not
be causing the race's troubles.”

“Or he could have caused them as a distraction,” Frank said. “Whoever he is—even if he's a contestant or crew member—winning the race clearly isn't part of his plan.”

Joe nodded. “His priority is getting whatever's in that SeaZoom into the U.S. without being spotted by customs agents. Could he be messing the race up to distract attention from himself?”

“That's my guess,” Frank said. “Diverting officials' attention would be a high priority—nearly as high as getting the goods across the border.”

“Hey!” Joe said. “I just remembered something we heard that didn't seem important at the time. It could be the key to solving this case.”

“If it involves a news report and a license plate, I just had the same idea myself,” Frank said.

“The question remains, though: Who's in that boat?”

“Only one way to find out,” Frank replied, gunning the throttle.

The black SeaZoom darted into the small space between two islets, still heading up the coast toward its unknown destination. As Frank and Joe approached the strait, though, two more black watercraft came storming in the opposite direction—right toward them.

The men driving the new intruder boats weren't wearing helmets. Even from a distance, the Hardys recognized them.

“Jacques and Pierre,” Frank said. “I guess that means they're not in the main boat.”

“It also means that you were right about someone being able to cut ahead of us in a car or helicopter,” Joe said.

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, Frank,” he said. “We still owe these goons for the metro.”

The thugs charged toward the brothers. Pierre swung a rope over his head as he bore in, while Jacques was carrying a long pole resembling a broom handle.

Pierre skidded in front of the brothers, throwing a huge spray of water in the Hardys' faces. At the same time, he tossed the rope toward Frank.

Blinking the water from his eyes, the older Hardy ducked just in time to avoid being snared by Pierre's lasso.

Jacques swung his pole at Joe's head. The younger Hardy swerved out of the way and started after the black racer once more. When he glanced back to check the pursuit, though, he saw that both thugs were aiming for Frank.

Water flew from Joe's SeaZoom as he circled back to help his brother.

Pierre and Jacques were trying to catch Frank in a pincer movement between their boats. With both the pole and the rope coming at him, Frank didn't seem to have much of a chance.

The older Hardy looked at the thugs and their weapons, trying to gauge whether he'd have to abandon ship to dodge them both. The prospect of the chilly water wasn't too attractive, though it was considerably more appealing than being strangled or clobbered.

His face broke into a grim smile as he saw Joe speeding to his rescue. Hoping to buy a few seconds so Joe could help him out, Frank wheeled his SeaZoom and headed for shore.

The thugs closed in on the older Hardy. With his back toward them, there seemed little chance that Frank could dodge both their attacks.

Pierre threw his rope and Frank ducked. This set him up to be hammered by Jacques's pole—but the blow never came.

As Jacques reeled back to hit the older Hardy, Joe zipped up behind and grabbed the pole. Joe and Jacques tugged furiously for a few moments
before Joe finally pulled the weapon out of the thug's grip.

Doing so unbalanced the younger Hardy, though. He lost control of his SeaZoom and fell overboard as his jetboat tumbled into a spectacular crash.

Joe surfaced immediately and shook the water from his eyes. As his vision cleared, he saw Pierre's SeaZoom heading right for him.

14 Duel at Sea

Frank wheeled his SeaZoom around again, just in time to see his brother's predicament—but he was too far away to do anything about it.

As Jacques recovered his balance, Pierre gunned the throttle and drove straight toward Joe. The younger Hardy started to swim for shore, but he had no chance against the powerful SeaZoom.