The Hidden Valley Mystery (6 page)

“Did you say 5:00 A.M.?” Gunnar grabbed Mike’s arm.

“I think that’s what my mom said,” Mike replied. “Or something really early. Why?”

Gunnar tugged Mike and Tuan back into the shadows along the house. He lowered his voice. “Think about it,” he tapped Mike’s forehead. “A van, dogs, early morning trips, nasty characters....”

“Come off it,” Mike blurted. “It’s just co-incidence. These can’t be the same people we saw at the mansion. That stuff can’t happen here.”

“Why not?” Gunnar asked.

Tuan nodded. “Where I was born, all sorts of strange things went on. Who wants to run to school, with bullets whizzing past your ears? Who wants to escape to sea in an overcrowded rowboat? But those things happened to me, before my family got safely to Canada.”

“That’s rough, alright.” Mike shook his head. “But still we need proof what these guys are up to.”

Gunnar elbowed him. “Maybe we’ll get some right now.” He pointed across the street. “Two men just came out on the porch. I’ll get a closer look at the stacks of boxes they’re carrying.”

Before Mike and Tuan could stop him, Gunnar sauntered down the driveway. He strolled across the street, to the rear of the van. As he stepped up onto the far sidewalk, the large black dog leapt to the passenger side of the front seat.
“Grrruff! Gruff!”
Mike heard it bark and thump its paws against the glass as Gunnar passed.

“King, sit!” the taller man shouted from the porch. In the clear night air, his voice carried easily across the street. Arms also piled high with boxes, the second, stockier man waited two steps down. Once Gunnar had turned the corner and disappeared, the two walked down to the sidewalk and around the back of the van.

What were they up to, Mike wondered. Keeping to the shadows, along the house and past his front porch he crept, until he squatted behind the lilac bush at the lawn’s front corner.

In the yellow light of the street lamp, Mike could see the stocky man’s skin glisten with sweat. He wore only an undershirt above his baggy pants. The other looked hardly cooler, his loose, striped shirt open and rumpled over Bermuda shorts.

“What a bean pole, that kid was, eh?” the taller man laughed, setting his stack of boxes on the pavement. He straightened. With a click, he unlocked the back door of the van.

“As long as he ain’t some nosy neighbour,” the stocky one snarled. He thumped his stack of boxes into the van. “I don’t want nobody snooping around. Already the fat little broad across the street sicked her husband on me.”

Mike almost lunged forward, but caught himself. His ears burned to hear his mother described in such rude terms.

“Yeah, sure, Lou,” the first man agreed. “The less people notice, the better.”

“Grrruff!”
the dog barked.
“Gruff! Gruff!”

“What the—” Lou muttered. He smacked the second man’s shoulder. “Johnny, what’s eating that dog
now
?”

Johnny hoisted the last of his boxes and slid them into place. Stepping back up on the sidewalk, he strolled to the front of the van. He peered around the hood, then shrugged. “Can’t see anything, Lou,” he called.

“Grrruff-gruff! Grrruff-gruff!”
the barking continued.

“What’s with that stupid mutt!” Lou yelled. Around the street side of the van, he stomped, as far as the driver’s seat. “SHUT-UP, I said!” he hollered at the dog and pounded on the glass.

“King, sit!” Johnny commanded from the curb.

Sliding his paws down the glass, with a whine the dog stopped barking.

“I told you before, Lou,” Johnny leaned across the hood, “the dog needs the proper command. He’s not a kid. He’s a security machine. You have to tap the right verbal button to make him work.”

Lou jerked back. “I don’t need no lecture,” he snarled.

Johnny lifted both palms in the air. “Hey, Lou, no offence. Take it easy.”

Lou kicked the curb. “The tension’s getting to me,” he grumbled. “Yesterday, that louse Walt sneaking out and trying to run off. But I straightened him out, good.”

“Lou, relax, I said.” Johnny walked around the hood and laid his arm around Lou’s shoulder. “One more day. Just keep a low profile.”

“A what? Oh—yeah.” Lou shook his head. “Go back and lock the rear doors, will ya. We’d better get to the valley and check on that crumb, Walt.”

Mike watched the two climb into the front seat, the large black dog sitting high between them. Lou threw the van into gear. With a screech, they tore down the street.

“Tuan! Did you hear that?” Mike hissed. He turned to face his friend. Behind him, he saw nothing but shadows. Tuan was gone.

CHAPTER 13 – Find Tuan

Mike poked the bushes along the porch. “Tuan! Where are you?” he hissed. “This is no time to play games.” Behind him, he heard footsteps running up the driveway. He whirled around.

“Forget it, Mike.” Breathless, Gunnar lurched to a stop beside him. “Tuan’s gone. I doubled back through the lane behind the houses. I saw him dart in front of the van to get the dog barking. When both men went to the front of the van, Tuan slid underneath and wriggled to the back. He’s locked in that van right now, speeding away—”

“—to the mansion!” Mike interrupted. “Gunnar, we’ve got to do something—fast. Let’s call the police.”

“And say what?” Gunnar glared. “That our friend hid in someone’s van? That he plans to sneak into their house?”

“You’re right,” Mike nodded. “We’ll have to save him ourselves.”

“O.K.,” Gunnar leaned closer, “I have a plan. I know it’s warm, but put on a dark shirt and pants, grab a flashlight, and meet me at the ravine path behind my house. On the way, I’ll try to find Freddy. We’ll need all the help we can get. Oh, and bring the binoculars.”

“Freddy?” Mike chuckled. “That’s easy. Just stop at Maria’s!”

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, in the darkness, Mike locked his bike against the drainpipe at Gunnar’s house. Lucky for him
Theo
Lazo had said to start work later tomorrow—a reward for his help cleaning the shop after the break-in. Otherwise, his mother would never have let him out at this hour. He knew her words by heart: “Mike,” she would wave her finger at him, “stay home. A growing boy like you needs sleep.” But sleep was the last thing on Mike’s mind now.

“Hurry up, Mike,” Gunnar called from his backyard. Beside him at the top of the ravine path, Mike saw a sturdy silhouette in the moonlight.

Mike ran up. He elbowed Gunnar. “So, where did you dig up lover-boy?”

“For your information,” Freddy folded his arms across his chest, “we met at the foot of your street. I was just walking home from hanging out at the corner store.”

“Sure,” Mike chuckled, “in your Club Acapulco shirt and pants.”

“Cool it, you guys.” Gunnar shoved them both toward the path. “Who knows what’s happening to Tuan down there.”

Flashlights bobbing, down the steep path they skidded and plunged. At the bottom they turned and ran north along the river to the footbridge. Shoes drumming the boards, they darted across. Around the back of the fourth green and along the dogleg of the fairway they raced. At the boundary of the golf course, they slid through the gap in the wire fence into the dense bushes and trees. Mike was glad they all wore long pants. Even with flashlights, it was hard to make out the poison ivy.

“Cut those lights,” Gunnar hissed as they neared the clearing. Through the trees, the mansion windows glowed in the darkness. Gunnar pointed for Mike to raise the binoculars. “Do you see anyone moving near the house?” he whispered.

Mike focused. “Two men. They could be the same ones we saw loading the van on my street. The taller one’s going into the mansion. The other one’s stocky. He’s getting into the van. Now the van’s driving away.”

“Do you see any sign of Tuan?” Freddy asked.

Mike scanned the area around the mansion. Not a bush or a branch trembled. “Nothing,” Mike sighed.

“Knowing Tuan, it’s likely he got inside,” Freddy replied. “After all, that’s why he hid in the van, isn’t it?”

“But what if those guys found him when they unloaded and took him prisoner?” Mike asked.

“That’s possible,” Gunnar agreed. “But standing here won’t tell us. We have to move up closer.”

Pushing deeper into the trees, they picked their way west along the dark bush until the tree line curved and they crouched opposite the back of the mansion.

“The same basement lights are on,” Gunnar whispered.

“But look,” Mike pointed, “one of the blinds is up. The window’s half open!”

Freddy squinted into the moonlight. He tugged Mike’s shirt. “And the dim one, in the middle—there. Isn’t that half open too?”

“No wonder. It’s warm enough,” Mike mumbled. Sweat made his pants stick to the backs of his legs.

“Those windows are a lucky break,” Gunnar said. “Maybe we can see or hear something more. Freddy,” he grabbed his arm, “you take the middle window. Mike,” he laid his other hand on his friend’s shoulder, “you try the bright one over there. I’ll wait here and keep a lookout. If there’s trouble, I’ll give my coyote howl for danger.”

Mike thought of
Capture the Flag
at camp.

“O.K.,” Gunnar hissed. “Go!”

Crouching low, Mike darted across the open grass. Within a few feet of the wall, he dove onto his stomach and wriggled up to the opened pane. From inside, he heard men’s voices.

“Come on, pal, you’re not a hothead like Lou. Let me outta here,” one voice whined.

“Forget it, Walt. You had your chance.”

The second voice sounded familiar. Mike edged his eyes past the window’s frame. In the large, brightly lit basement room he saw a makeshift office. In the centre, on a large folding table, sat several squat machines, two with what looked like telephones, connected by tangled wires. The floor was littered with remnants of coloured paper. Here and there lay a few empty boxes—the same ones he’d used at
Theo
Lazo’s printing shop for packaging stationery. Why would someone want to steal that, he wondered.

“Come on, be reasonable. You gotta give me my share of the money and let me go, ’specially before Jack Winston gets home from Japan. He was good to me. I can’t face that guy, once he finds out what I done.”

Mike’s eyes followed the voice. At the far end of the room, backed against a door, a thin, balding man bent over as though feeling sick, his white shirt sleeves rolled up against the heat. Mike gasped. Someone had blackened the man’s eye, and his left foot dragged behind him, locked on what looked like a dog chain, coming from under the door. The chain was long enough only to let him shuffle in a small circle.

The other speaker lounged cool in Bermuda shorts and a loose, striped shirt. He was the taller of the two men Mike had seen loading the van: Johnny. He tilted back on the wooden chair, and tossed a matt of sandy hair aside. From his thumb and forefinger he swung a key back and forth.

“Yes, indeed, you’re good at double crossing, aren’t you, Walt. Too bad. Lou and I won’t let you jump the gun on us this time. We leave first. Relax. Only a few more hours. Lou’s making our last delivery. By sun-up, he and I will be on two different planes south. Then Fido, your clever dog,” he dangled the key high in the air, “can set you loose.”

“Queen. Her name is Queen,” Walt sniffled.

“Yeah, well, Queen or Mutt, she’s no good to you now,” Johnny sneered. With a hard laugh, he pitched the key toward the far end of the room. Into a corner it flew, clinking against an empty beer can. “Lou’s keeping her in the front of the van with King. Neither can hear their trainer’s nice commands.”

Trainer?
Mike pulled back from the window. So King and Queen were the guard dogs for the estate, and “old-man Winston” must be the mansion’s owner. Walt worked for him. Then why did Walt tangle up with Lou and Johnny? Still he couldn’t figure out what the men were up to. And where was Tuan?

Maybe Freddy knew more. Mike peered both ways, then darted across the grass to the trees where Gunnar crouched. Freddy squatted beside him, his back balanced against a trunk.

“So Walt’s in charge of Mr. Winston’s kennel,” Gunnar summed up Mike’s account. Winston. That name sounds familiar.”

“Jack Winston owns a chain of computer stores. You know, like that big one at King and Bay Streets downtown,” Freddy explained. “You see the ads on T.V. My Dad’s done some business with them. That’s all I can report. My window just looked into an empty washroom.”

“Should we sneak inside?” Mike asked. “Maybe we could find out more.”

“Sh!” Gunnar silenced him. “I think the van’s coming back.”

In a few moments a pair of headlights swerved around the drive. Wheels screeched to a stop. The driver’s door swung open, and a stocky figure jumped down, then reached back in. “All right, you little twerp, outta there!” the man snarled, and dragged a small, wriggling figure onto the grass.

Mike gasped. “He’s got Tuan!”

CHAPTER 14 – Gunnar’s Plan

Tuan thrashed and wriggled against his captor’s muscular grasp. In the darkness something flashed.

Mike strained forward, to run to his friend’s aid, but Gunnar and Freddy tugged him back.

“He’s got a knife,” Gunnar hissed. “If we rush him now, he might hurt Tuan worse.”

Tuan kicked hard against the man’s shins.

“Cut it out, brat, or you’ll get a knife in the gut,” the man snarled.

Mike knew that voice. It
was
Lou. He stared in horror as Lou yanked and shoved the struggling Tuan across the grass, until the house blocked out his view.

Mike spun to face the others. “We’ve got to do something—fast! Lou and Johnny are leaving the country by morning. We don’t have much time.”

“Let me think,” muttered Gunnar. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Got it!” His eyes blinked open. “O.K. Now that we can prove these guys are up to no good, it’s time for the police. Freddy, there's a Parks and Rec centre straight through the woods, up the hill. It’s late, but try to find someone to let you inside to phone.”

“I know there's a Scouts Group Committee meeting in the centre tonight,” Freddy added. “My Dad is on the committee. I can telephone the police from there.”