"Hardy," he said, breathing heavily. Joe approached to within ten feet of him and stopped. "You have been a source of great annoyance to me.

  "My pleasure," Joe said.

  Gregor shook his head. "Still you make jokes. Good." He reached down and pulled a knife out of his boot. "You will die laughing then."

  He moved forward, brandishing the knife like an expert. Joe stepped back quickly, his eyes tracking Gregor's wrist. If his concentration slipped for even a second, the knife would be in him.

  "No jokes now, eh?" Gregor taunted, circling him.

  "What kind would you like to hear?" Joe asked warily.

  Gregor lunged forward. At the last possible second, Joe dodged. As Gregor passed him, he pushed the STB man into the wooden fence around the construction pit. With a loud crack, the flimsy wood gave way. Gregor went tumbling down into the construction area itself.

  Joe jumped down after him, tumbling head-over-heels. He came to a stop and scrambled to his feet.

  A two-by-four missed his head by inches.

  Gregor must have lost his knife when he fell into the pit, but he'd found something to replace it quickly enough. Building materials littered the floor of the pit — many of them lethal looking. Gregor had wasted no time in choosing another weapon.

  The STB man laughed and swung the beam around again. This time it caught Joe full in the chest, and he was slammed to the ground. He lay there stunned, unable for a moment to breathe, or even to think.

  "Hah!" Gregor hovered over him, raising his improvised club high over his head, his face twisted with anger and pleasure.

  "Now, Hardy, I am rid of you forever!"

  He brought the beam crashing down.

  Chapter 18

  JOE ROLLED TO HIS SIDE. The beam missed him by inches, raising a cloud of dust as it smashed into the ground. Gregor raised it again and brought it down—and again Joe rolled out of harm's way.

  This time, as he rolled over, Joe snatched up a handful of dirt and flung it in Gregor's eyes.

  "Arrgh!" Blinded, Gregor staggered backward. Joe scrambled to his feet and kicked out, knocking the beam from the agent's hand. He followed through with a right to the jaw that sent the STB man stumbling into a pile of cinder blocks.

  Gregor wiped dirt from his eyes. He grabbed a cinder block off the pile next to him, hurling it at Joe, who barely managed to dodge.

  "Don't play caveman!" Joe taunted him. "Show me some secret agent tricks!"

  Gregor snarled and picked up another cinder block. He threw this one even harder.

  Joe stepped quickly to his right. The block whistled by and grazed him lightly on the side of the leg.

  He fell to the ground as if he'd been shot.

  With an awful smile, Gregor picked up another cinder block and moved toward him.

  Joe scrambled backward—until he felt something hard at his back.

  A cement wall. The foundation of the building being built there. He dragged himself to his feet.

  "You can't run any more, Hardy," Gregor said. "Now — "

  Springing off the wall, Joe shot forward to drop-kick Gregor in the stomach with both feet. Gregor grunted heavily and dropped the cinder block.

  "It is not over yet, Hardy," Gregor said, swaying on his feet, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gulps.

  "Isn't it?" Joe asked, wiping the dirt off his face. "Janosik's safe—and you're dead on your feet."

  "Not yet," Gregor said. With the last of his strength, he half swung, half fell at Joe. Joe dodged the blow.

  Now it was his turn. He balled his right hand into a fist and swung with all his might.

  His knuckles connected with Gregor's jaw with a satisfying crack—and Gregor toppled to the ground like a fallen tree.

  Joe stood over him, breathing heavily. He was covered with dirt. His jacket was torn, and his body ached all over, but he felt pretty good.

  "Joe!" He turned. Frank was standing above him, looking down into the construction pit.

  "Everything all right down there?" his brother called down.

  "Under control," Joe called back.

  "You could have waited for me, you know," Frank said accusingly.

  "Oh, no," Joe replied, rubbing his hand and staring down at Gregor. "This one was all mine."

  ***

  "We caught Ludvik at the airport. He'll be sharing that cell with Gregor and Liehm—for a long, long time," Considine said. "In this country. Prague has officially denied any connection with Liehm's project, and any of the people we've taken into custody."

  "I find that hard to believe," Frank said. He and Joe, in dry clothes they'd borrowed from one of the Beast's dorm neighbors, sat at a table back in the Cambridge precinct house, their father and Considine across from them. -

  "So do I," Considine said. "But we're not going to complain. By the way," he added, "we finally turned up that kid you borrowed the skateboard from. He'll be testifying about Krc attacking you from his car. He also asked if the 'government agent' was done with his board."

  Joe laughed. "Well, I guess you can tell us where to return it."

  A uniformed officer opened the door. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, those two young men you wanted to see are here."

  Considine nodded. "Show them in."

  The officer stepped aside, and Chris and Larry walked into the room. They sat down nervously next to Frank.

  Fenton Hardy smiled. "Now, Ben, what we were talking about before — "

  "Yes," Considine had a grim stare for the newcomers. Both shifted in their seats, looking uncomfortable. "I've talked with the authorities here at Harvard, and based on both your records, and the good words of Mr. Hardy here," — he nodded at Fenton — "the university people and the district attorney's office are willing to drop all charges against you two. Under one condition."

  Chris looked up unbelievingly. "Name it."

  The Beast nodded his assent.

  Considine smiled. "You are both directed to report to the superintendent of continuing education, for teaching assignments in computer education. You'll each be required to teach five hundred hours of classes."

  Larry gulped. "I've never been very good at communicating with other people."

  "Well, here's your chance to learn," Considine said. "Their equipment may not be as fancy as what you're used to—"

  "I know where they can get more—if they want it," Chris said. "A whole basement full."

  Considine nodded. "I'm sure they'd be delighted to accept."

  Frank and Joe exchanged smiles.

  The door to the room opened again, and Alexander Janosik walked in.

  "Mr. Janosik!" Joe exclaimed, standing. "What brings you here?"

  The old man was wearing a Harvard sweatshirt that made him look like a grandfatherly undergraduate. "I came to thank you all for everything, and to ask you to attend my closing speech tomorrow at the symposium."

  "We really should be getting back home," Fenton Hardy said regretfully, looking at his watch.

  "Dad," Joe pleaded. "Can't we stay and hear the speech?"

  "Well, wrapping this case up is a good excuse for a celebration, isn't it?" Fenton smiled. "All right, we'll stay in Cambridge tonight."

  "Now you're talking. I'll even treat you and the boys to dinner," Considine said.

  "No, no." Fenton shook his head. "My treat."

  "Maybe Mr. Janosik would like to join us, too," Frank suggested.

  Janosik bowed. "I would be honored."

  Fenton smiled at his sons. "I'll call your mother and tell her not to expect us home." He turned to Chris. "And there's something else I'd like to tell her about, too."

  "Where should we eat?" Frank asked.

  "I know this pizza joint right around the corner," Chris suggested.

  "I think something a little nicer," Fenton said. "Maybe an Italian restaurant, or — "

  "Hamburgers!" Janosik proudly proclaimed. "Very American. Especially with the cheese and bacon — excellent."

  Joe clapped him on the back.

  "How about it, Frank?" Chris asked. "Bacon cheeseburgers all right with you?"

  "Frank likes his burgers plain — don't you, Frank?" Joe teased.

  Frank shook his head, knowing when he was beaten. "Bacon cheeseburgers sound fine."

  The End.

 

 

  Franklin W. Dixon, Double Exposure

 

 

  Thank you for reading books on GrayCity.Net
Share this book with friends