Strategic Moves (6 page)

"I'd advise you to be seated," Collins ordered.

"What's going on? Why are we under arrest?" Joe demanded to know.

"Sit down, now!" Collins pointed a black steel pistol at Joe's face.

Joe backed up, his hands raised. The panel slid shut and was locked.

"What's going on?" Joe asked, looking at Frank, who was seated on the metal bench welded to the side of the panel van.

"From the looks of things," Frank replied calmly, "I'd say we've been arrested."

"Why would the Oxford police want to arrest us?

"I wouldn't know about the Oxford police. But these guys want to question us." Frank locked his hands behind his head.

"What are you talking about?" Joe sat across from Frank.

"Did you notice what kind of gun that commander pointed at you?"

"I got a real good up-close and personal look," Joe said sarcastically. "A nine-millimeter Beretta. What about it?"

"First of all, English police officers are not issued weapons, not even commanders. Second, that particular make of Beretta is a fifteen-clip special that's custom-made for one organization: BCI - British Counterintelligence."

"So these guys aren't Oxford police, and we're not going to the Oxford station," Joe stated.

"Right." Frank sniffed. "From the smell of things, I'd say we're in the country."

Joe sniffed, too. "Smells like a stockyard," he said, wrinkling his nose.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, and then Frank pulled the cigarette lighter from his pocket.

"Where'd you get that?" Joe asked.

"I found it in my room just before Aleksandr showed up." Frank turned the lighter over.

"Chris smoked. That's one thing we argued about last night." The previous night seemed a lifetime away, and Joe wished he had kept a better eye on the skateboarder from California.

Frank handed the lighter to Joe. "I think you'll find the inscription very enlightening."

Joe frowned at Frank's pun. He turned the lighter over and read the inscription: ** 'Chris St. Armand, Ne Plus Ultra.'"

"Recognize the emblem?" Frank asked.

Joe looked at the front of the lighter. A green shield with a blue cross in the center dominated the front of the lighter. Ne Plus Ultra was written in the horizontal band of the cross.

"The Network emblem," Frank said. "Ate Plus Ultra, Latin for 'perfection.' The Network's motto."

"St. Armand is a Network agent," Joe stated with disgust. "An old-looking student."

"And a young-looking Network agent," Frank added.

"We've been set up, brother," Joe announced.

The van came to an abrupt halt. Joe heard large wooden doors being opened. Then the van moved forward slowly and stopped again. Joe heard a squeal as the doors were shut.

The light in the van went out as the engine was shut off. The Hardys sat still and kept quiet, barely breathing.

Joe could hear voices but couldn't distinguish any words. Suddenly the back door of the van flew open. A large spotlight filled the van with a blinding white light. Joe raised one hand to shield his eyes against the bright assault of the spotlight.

Moments later two large shadowy figures stepped in front of the spotlight and approached the van.

Joe was set to leap from the van and attack when he saw the silhouettes of the small Uzis the two men held at waist level. Their snub-nosed barrels were aimed at Joe and Frank.

"Are these the two young Americans you wanted?" Commander Collins asked as he stepped between the men with the Uzis and into the spotlight.

"Yes. These are the two," replied a familiar voice.

"The Gray Man!" Frank shouted, and he and Joe hopped from the van.

"Frank, Joe," Ziggy called out as he ran up to his friends. He was still dressed in his sculling outfit.

"Ziggy!" Joe replied. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Ziggy broke into a wide smile, as though he were greeting long-lost friends. "Petra is here, too."

Petra joined the young men. "Mr. Gray brought me here," she explained. She looked tired but no longer as pale and scared as when Frank had last seen her.

"Speaking of Mr. Gray," Frank said. He looked past the two men with the Uzis and into the darkness behind the spotlight. "You want to explain what's going on?"

The Gray Man walked slowly up to the teenagers. "I suppose I owe you an explanation."

"That would help," Joe said, sarcasm etched in his voice.

"Perhaps I should." Fitzhugh, Frank's fencing instructor, stepped into the spotlight.

Frank could see another man standing behind the spotlight but did not recognize him.

"You're a part of this?" Frank asked Fitzhugh, watching as the unidentified man moved toward the group.

"Worse than that," Fitzhugh answered. "I'm the agent in charge."

"Agent in charge?" Frank didn't like the sound of that.

"Let me reintroduce myself," Fitzhugh said to Frank. "David Fitzhugh, vice-commander, Her Majesty's Counterintelligence, retired."

"Britain's version of the Network," the Gray Man said.

"As well as dean of continuing and special education, Oxford University," Fitzhugh added.

The unidentified man stood next to Fitzhugh. The bright light bounced off his white hair and created a halo effect around the man's head. He was as tall as Frank, and his suit was expensive.

Frank stared at the third man. "And you are ... ?"

"Nikolai Krylov, Soviet embassy, London," the man said without hesitation in near-perfect English.

"We met earlier," Joe said with a frown. Krylov had been the third man in the blue sedan.

"KGB?" Frank said.

"Very perceptive, Mr. Hardy," Krylov said with a smile.

"You think we could shut off that light?" Joe asked, raising his hands in front of his eyes.

"Yes," Fitzhugh said. "I suggest we move this meeting into the house."

Fitzhugh nodded. The two men with the Uzis walked to the barn doors and pushed them open. One man flipped off the spotlight.

"This way, please," Fitzhugh said, motioning to the teenagers.

They walked out into a well-kept barnyard. Frank could now see that they were about half a mile from the main road. Although the place gave the appearance of a farm, Frank noticed that it lacked farm equipment and animals.

They walked silently toward a small house, whose white paint looked fresh. The lawn in front of the house was also well-maintained.

The front room into which they walked was unfurnished, and with the four teenagers and three agents, it was crowded. They all remained standing. Commander Collins and the others remained outside.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way," Joe said, "would someone mind explaining what this is all about?"

Krylov thrust his hands into his pockets. "This is about the safety and security of the world, my young American friend."

"We haven't established the fact that we're friends," Joe replied evenly.

Krylov chuckled. "No. We haven't. And perhaps we could have handled this a little better, but we," - he nodded at the Gray Man and Fitzhugh - "felt it necessary to keep you, all four of you, uninformed as long as possible."

"What makes it necessary to tell us the truth now?" Frank asked.

"The attempted kidnapping last night and the attempt on your lives this afternoon."

"Our lives? Aleksandr was the target." Joe was incredulous.

Krylov frowned. "Surely you do not think Aleksandr Dancek was the intended target of the gargoyle."

"What?" Petra asked. "A gargoyle?"

Joe looked into Petra's blue eyes. "One of the statues on top of the dorm building. It was loosened and pushed down by one of the men who tried to kidnap Ziggy last night."

"Aleksandr was bringing us to you," Frank explained to Ziggy.

"Why would the man try to kill Frank and Joe?" Ziggy asked Krylov.

"Your two new friends helped you last night," Krylov replied. "They are in the way."

"Whose way?" Frank asked.

"In the way of the men who are trying to kidnap Pyotr," Krylov replied flatly.

"That doesn't answer my questions." Frank returned Krylov's hard stare. "And it doesn't explain why three top secret agencies have suddenly become best friends."

The Gray Man spoke for the first time since entering the house. "We received intelligence reports in Washington that your young friend was to be the target of a kidnapping."

Frank sighed with impatience. "You're not telling us anything new."

"You must realize," Krylov began, "that Pyotr is a national hero. If anything were to happen to him, the people of the Soviet Union, despite their newfound love for Western culture and ideas, would be very upset."

"There are those elements," the Gray Man continued, "who would like nothing more than to slam the iron curtain shut once again."

"And what better way to destroy the increasingly friendly relationship between the Soviet Union and the West than by kidnapping a young Russian hero on British soil?" Fitzhugh added.

"And the attack on Petra this morning?" Joe blurted out. "Is anyone concerned with her safety?"

"What attack?" the Gray Man asked, agitated.

"It was an accident, not an attack." Fitzhugh explained about the fencing foil and the transformer box. "The student responsible for the accident has been dismissed from the school."

The Gray Man's eyes widened, and he fired back a question: "Why wasn't I informed?"

"I was told about it," Krylov answered, "and I agreed with Fitzhugh. It was an accident."

The Gray Man locked eyes with Krylov, and Frank could feel the tension between the two agency directors.

If the Gray Man didn't know about the accident, Frank thought, perhaps he doesn't know about Chris St. Armand or the Network cigarette lighter. The lighter suddenly felt conspicuous in Frank's pocket.

"Why didn't you just assign a couple of agents to escort Pyotr and Petra around Oxford?" Joe asked.

"We did. Two of our best. Aleksandr and Katrina Dancek," Krylov answered.

"What?" Ziggy all but shouted. "We have been chaperoned by KGB agents?"

"Is it so terrible for your government to want to protect you?" Krylov asked in a patronizing tone.

"No, but we do not need the secret police to watch out for us," Petra said angrily.

"I don't know what glass bubble you've been living in," the Gray Man said to Ziggy, "but the world isn't as sugar-coated as you would like to believe."

"Her Majesty's government would not have permitted the Zigonevs to participate in the International Classroom without certain assurances and assistance from the Soviet government," Fitzhugh added.

Krylov cleared his throat and smiled at the twins. "You would not have been allowed to leave the Soviet Union unless we were assured that you would be safe."

"You haven't done a very good job," Frank said.

Krylov's smile dropped to a frown. His dark eyes became slits of anger.

"I think what Frank means," the Gray Man interjected, "is that he'd feel better if we would let him and Joe in on our plans."

That's not what I meant, Frank thought, but he understood that the Gray Man was only trying to lessen the tension that had slowly been reaching the boiling point the past few minutes. Frank didn't like loose ends, he didn't like sloppy detective work, and he was not impressed with the three agencies' handling of the operation.

"Right," Frank agreed.

The Gray Man shifted his weight. "At first, we thought the Assassins were behind the reports we received in Washington."

"What made you change your mind?" Frank asked.

"The man you helped capture at Brasenose," Fitzhugh answered, "is not a member of the Assassins or any other terrorist group that we are aware of."

"A new terrorist outfit," Frank suggested.

"Maybe," the Gray Man said with a shrug.

"To be perfectly honest," Fitzhugh sighed, "we are puzzled."

"Who is the man you arrested?" Frank asked.

"A local petty hood named Howard Markham," Fitzhugh responded. "Until last night, he was more of a nuisance than a real threat."

"And what about his partner, the younger man?" Ziggy asked.

"Same thing," Fitzhugh replied. "They are both on their way to London for interrogation."

Frank decided to shift gears. He was sure that there was more to the kidnapping than they were letting on.

"What's so important about the communications linkup Mr. Zigonev is working on?" Frank asked casually.

Krylov choked and coughed. His dark eyes glanced from Gray to Fitzhugh with a nervous twitch. Then he said, "We cannot divulge classified information."

But Frank had already gotten the answer he wanted: the communications link had something to do with the attempt to kidnap Ziggy.

"What do we do now?" Petra asked, concern in her voice.

"It is best that we all act as though nothing has happened," Krylov said. The incident at Brasenose had nothing to do with the International Classroom or with Pyotr."

"I can put a security blackout on the press by using the national security act," Fitzhugh said.

"No," Krylov said, shaking his head. "The British press will know something is afoot if you do that. They will alert their American colleagues, and the American press cannot be silenced by British paranoia."

"I don't like it," the Gray Man said. "Pyotr ought to remain in a safe house, under cover, until we discover who it is that wants to kidnap him."

"No," Krylov said with conviction. "His sudden disappearance would arouse suspicion."

The Gray Man raised his eyebrows at Krylov. Frank could tell the American agent was trying to control his temper.

Gray turned to Frank. "Can you two watch over them?"

"Yes," Frank replied without hesitation.

"We couldn't do any worse than you three have done so far," Joe added.

"I still don't like it," Gray huffed.

"You will see, my friend," Krylov said, as though he were talking to an underling. "We will capture our villains."

"At what price?" Frank asked. He didn't like Krylov's patronizing attitude or the way the older Soviet agent was bossing the others.