The Pentagon Spy

Table of Contents

 

 

 

WHEN valuable antique weathervanes are stolen in Pennsylvania Dutch country, Frank and Joe Hardy are hired to catch the thieves.

Meanwhile, their famous detective father is busy with his own investigation. The Pentagon asks Fenton Hardy to find a missing Navy employee and a top-secret government document.

The Hardys join forces. From here on, strange things happen. The more clues they turn up, the more endangered their lives become. The ruthless gang remains elusive while threatening the young detectives wherever they go.

What is the connection between the missing weathervanes and the Pentagon spy? The final chapters of this thrilling mystery uncover a stunning revelation as America's greatest young detectives do what they do best!

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Copyright © 1980 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published

in 2005 by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group,
345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. THE HARDY BOYS' is a
registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a
trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. S.A.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-07670-5

“This case is a tough one, boys,” said Fenton Hardy, the famous private detective, after he had settled himself comfortably behind the desk in his study. “It concerns our government and possibly a foreign power. Espionage in Washington, that's what it looks like at this point.”

His sons, Frank and Joe, who were seated in two leather chairs facing their father, perked up.

“Can you tell us more about it, Dad, or is it classified ?” asked dark-haired Frank, who was a senior in high school.

“If so, we won't ask any questions,” added Joe, who was blond and a year younger. But he sounded disappointed.

Mr. Hardy smiled. “I've cleared you with the Defense Department,” he said, “because you may be in on this before it's over. I may need your help.”

“Great!” Joe said excitedly. “What's your case about?”

“A spy in the Pentagon,” Mr. Hardy replied.

The boys looked at one another in amazement.

“How could a spy get through all that clearance ?” Frank asked. “They check everybody in the Pentagon, from the brass on down.”

Mr. Hardy nodded. “That's what the Defense Department wants me to investigate. How did a spy manage to operate under their noses?”

“Any suspects?” Joe inquired. Like Frank, he was always eager for a mystery.

Mr. Hardy nodded. “A civilian employee of the navy named Clifford Hunter has disappeared. So has a top-secret navy document. It appears that Hunter sneaked the document out of the files and smuggled it out of the Pentagon.”

Frank whistled. “He must be a cool customer! Any clues, Dad?”

“Yes. The FBI traced Hunter to Chesapeake Bay. We know he shoved off into the bay aboard his sailboat. Since then—nothing. The navy's asked me to enter the case because I've done investigations for them in the past.”

“Tell us about this guy Hunter,” Frank urged.

Fenton Hardy explained that the suspect was a physicist assigned to computer programming for underwater guidance systems. “This is a real breakthrough by navy scientists. It gives our commanders of nuclear submarines pinpoint navigational accuracy on around-the-globe voyages half a mile below the surface of the ocean.”

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed. “A sub could leave Bayport and hit Easter Island right on the nose without taking a single breath! I'll bet it would make those stone heads talk to one another!” He was referring to the South Pacific island whose ancient population was known for carving remarkable stone monuments.

Fenton Hardy smiled at his son's enthusiasm. “The scientific details are even more dramatic than that, Joe. But you boys know enough now to realize what the navy's up against. The document Hunter took must be recovered before it reaches a foreign government.”

“Maybe a gang of foreign agents is mixed up in the case!” Joe said. He was more impetuous than Frank, who did not jump to conclusions so quickly. They had solved many cases together and had helped their father with some of his investigations.

Fenton Hardy was a former member of the New York Police Department, who now worked out of Bayport as a private investigator. He had achieved national fame and put many notorious public enemies behind bars.

Joe's exclamation made his father frown. “It's possible that foreign agents are involved,” he said. “That's why I may need you and Frank to help me. If Hunter's planning to turn the sub document over to them, we must stop him before he succeeds. Here's an identification card for each of you. Carry it with you wherever you go.” He handed the boys two plastic-encased cards with their pictures on them.

Just then Mrs. Hardy entered the room. She was an attractive, pleasant woman who often worried about the cases her husband and sons investigated.

“Fenton,” she announced, “your suitcase is ready. I've packed everything you'll need for a week.”

“Thank you, my dear,” the detective replied. Rising to his feet, he handed Joe a piece of paper. “Here's the telephone number at the Pentagon where you can reach me. Check with me tomorrow and I'll let you know how the Hunter case is progressing.”

He started to leave, then remembered something and turned back to his sons. “By the way,” he said, “I have an appointment here this morning with a man named John Hammerley. Make my apologies, will you?”

Then he went out of the room. Shortly afterward, the sound of his car rolling down the driveway into Elm Street indicated that he was on his way to the airport to catch a plane to Washington.

Frank and Joe discussed the mystery of the spy in the Pentagon, who had disappeared with the classified navy document.

“I wonder where he went,” Frank said thoughtfully. “He couldn't really go too far in a sailboat.”

“People have sailed all the way to Europe,” Joe reminded him.

“While carrying a classified stolen document?” Frank shook his head. “Hardly. But he could have met a foreign agent out on the bay.”

“We won't know until we get an SOS from Dad,” Joe said. “And then we'll have to be ready to move in.”

“I hope that won't be necessary,” Mrs. Hardy said in a worried tone.

“It's all right, Mom,” Frank reassured her. “Dad's got the navy behind him. And I'd sure hate to buck the U.S. Navy.”

Mr. Hardy's sister, who lived with the family, stuck her head through the open door. “Spies, submarines, sailboats!” she exclaimed. “What's next?”

The boys grinned. They knew their aunt was very fond of them even though she had a tart tongue and often criticized her nephews.

“How about a piece of chocolate pie, Aunt Gertrude ?” Joe suggested.

“Humph! It's certainly better for you than getting involved with spies!” Miss Hardy declared. Then she smiled and led the way to the kitchen, where she served her nephews a sample of her excellent culinary skills.

“You two mind the store now,” Aunt Gertrude commanded. “Your mother and I have some shopping to do.”

“Don't worry, we will,” Joe said as he took a soda out of the refrigerator.

Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang. Frank went to answer it. A dignified man in a brown suit stood outside. He was wearing a deerstalker hat with a high crown and a peak in front.

“He must have borrowed that hat from Sherlock Holmes,” Frank thought while he greeted the stranger with a smile.

The man removed his hat. “Is this the Hardy residence?” he inquired.

“It is, sir,” Frank replied.

The visitor handed him a card bearing the name John Hammerley, Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

“Young man, may I come in?” he asked in a troubled tone of voice.

“Of course, Mr. Hammerley. We've been expecting you.” Frank stepped aside and ushered their visitor into the living room. There he introduced himself and Joe, and the three sat down.

“I'm a Pennsylvania farmer with an office in the city of Lancaster where I deal in grain,” Hammerley announced. “I've come to see Fenton Hardy, the private investigator.”

Frank explained that their father had suddenly been called away on another case. “He asked us to say he's sorry he couldn't wait for you. But he's on a top-secret assignment for the government.”