“Yeah, a belly flop on concrete will do that to you.” Frank told Joe what happened at the hotel.

  “Whoa,” Joe said under his breath. “Did you get a good look at the guy?”

  Frank shook his head. “I don’t even know for sure if it was a guy, but I think so. My first view of the intruder was as he backed out of our room. Then when we were in the stairwell, I was behind him—or her.”

  “No hair color or anything?” Joe prompted.

  “No. The person had one of those short pointed caps pulled down over his head—like the ones the Finnish fans wear. Black jeans, dark green jacket.”

  “That could be anyone,” Joe pointed out. “Becky even wore one of those hats, remember? They sell those caps at one of the kiosks.”

  “I did find a couple of things,” Frank said, reaching into his pocket. “Do you recognize this?” He showed Joe the short gray cord.

  “No,” Joe said. “Why?”

  “I found it in our room,” Frank answered.

  “You think the intruder dropped it?”

  “Or the maid,” Frank offered. “They’re the only people who’ve been in our room since we left.”

  “We hope so, anyway,” Joe added. “You said you found a couple of things. What else have you got?”

  Frank took out the silver triangle with the hole along the edge. He turned it over in his hand. There were two raised numbers on one side: “1” and “7.”

  Joe took the object and studied it. “Could be a sort of identification tag.”

  “Maybe for a safe deposit box,” Frank suggested. “The hole might be for a keyring.” He took it back and returned it to his pocket.

  “Do you think the intruder dropped it?” Joe asked.

  “Maybe,” Frank said. “It was in the stairwell. It could have been dropped by anyone, really.”

  “And the cord could be from something the maid uses,” Joe said. “We don’t have much, do we?”

  Frank shook his head. “Did you print all the photos of the crash?” he asked.

  “I did,” Joe answered. “And it looks like the cockpit wasn’t damaged too severely. They design these cars now so that the front end takes a lot of impact. It’s amazing.”

  “Did you see the drinking bottle in any of the photos?” Frank asked.

  “I magnified the print of that area. It looks as if it’s collapsed, but still there.”

  “So we could check it out,” Frank said.

  “If we can get to it before someone else does,” Joe added.

  “I don’t want to tell J. J. anything about this,” Frank said. “Not until we know more.”

  “Are you saying you don’t trust J. J.?” Joe asked, lowering his voice even further.

  “I’m saying I don’t know him. And until I do, I want to be cautious. Look, someone targeted us today. How many people know we’re interested in this whole Manion/Hugh business?”

  “Well, J. J., and Noah.”

  “Exactly,” Frank said. “Plus anyone they might have told.”

  “Right, I’m following,” Joe said, nodding.

  “So let’s keep our suspicions about the drinking bottle to ourselves for now. If we get in to see the car, I’ll distract J. J. while you check it over.” He glanced in J. J.’s direction. “It looks like he’s winding up his call.” The Hardys went back to where J. J. was pacing.

  “Right now?” J. J. said into the mouthpiece. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” He flipped the phone shut. “They’re getting ready to shake down the backup car,” he told the Hardys. “Plus Manion checked himself out of the medical center. Except no one seems to know where he went.”

  “Can we get in to see his car?” Frank asked. “Is it in the garage?”

  “Yeah,” J. J. said. “They picked it up right after the crash and took it straight to the garage. Come on—this’ll be a good time to check it out. Most of the team is in a dinner meeting to discuss the backup car. They’ll be up in the suite. The rest are out looking for Manion. I’m supposed to wait in the garage in case he shows up there and talk him into going back to the medical center for observation or at least up to the suite to rest.” He paused for a moment, then chuckled. “Fat chance.”

  J. J. eased them through the security checkpoint and they headed straight for Manion Cristal’s garage. The garage was locked when they arrived. J. J. unlocked the door, and after the three of them were inside, locked it behind him.

  Joe was relieved to see that no one was there. Mechanics had taken apart some of the mangled car, but the cockpit was pretty much intact. It was sitting on a worktable along the back wall.

  Joe headed straight for the cockpit. He could hear Frank and J. J. talking behind him for a few minutes. Then J. J.’s ringing phone and beeping pager took over the job of keeping him distracted.

  Joe visualized the schematics he’d studied of the dashboard and walls of the Formula One cockpit. Then he started his search. Not only was the drinking bottle missing, but the lever Manion pushed to release the fluid was missing too. Were they destroyed in the crash? Joe wondered. Or has someone else already cut them away?

  Frank joined Joe at the worktable while J. J. talked on his phone. Joe told his brother that the drinking bottle was missing. “My photos show it was in the cockpit right after the crash, so someone’s removed it since then,” he concluded.

  “And was taken from here,” Frank said. “J. J. said the wrecker took it directly from the track back to this garage.”

  “So who removed it?” Joe wondered. “Was it one of Manion’s mechanics? If so, it should be over on that other table with the rest of the salvaged parts, and it’s not. Maybe investigators took it because they also suspect that Manion was poisoned.”

  “Or maybe it was the poisoner getting rid of the evidence,” Frank suggested.

  The Hardys poked around the rest of the garage, checking out bits and hunks of wreckage for the missing drinking apparatus. They found no trace of the drinking equipment.

  “Did you find anything telling?” J. J. flipped his phone shut.

  “Not really,” Joe said, “aside from the fact that some parts of the car aren’t here.”

  “I’m not surprised,” J. J. said, looking around the room. “They’ve been working pretty hard on it since the crash, trying to find out what happened. Everything the crew removed is over on that table.”

  “I checked there,” Joe said.

  “Security people have been here too,” J. J. said. “And even the police, in case it was sabotage. They might have taken some things.”

  J. J.’s pager beeped. “Look, I need to go,” he said, checking the pager display. “They want me to find Manion. I can’t really leave you guys here by yourselves. How about helping me track down the escaped patient?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Joe said, looking at his brother.

  “You two go,” Frank said. “I need to get to the Velodrome or I’ll lose my track time.”

  “Okay,” Joe said as J. J. answered yet another call. “I’ll hang out with J. J. Maybe I can find out more about the crash. I’ll see you later at Bill Katt’s press party.”

  • • •

  After putting in a good two hours of practice at the Velodrome, Frank went to the American team’s press party. It was ten o’clock by the time he arrived. He found Joe at the buffet table.

  “Just in time.” Joe greeted Frank with a sandwich piled high with cold cuts and cheese. “How was practice? You showed ’em who’s boss, right?”

  “It felt good,” Frank said. “I’m pretty psyched about the race. And I’m starving.” He heaped some chips and fruit on his plate next to the sandwich his brother had made for him. “How did it go with you and J. J.? Any clue as to where Manion is?”

  “Nope,” Joe answered. “It’s like he just vanished. Do you think something else might have happened to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. “It’s so weird that he’s just disappeared.”

  “You talking about Manion?” Bill Katt asked, walking up. “It’s weird, isn’t it? I told you this would be a crazy Grand Prix. Where do you suppose he is? The pits are full of rumors.”

  “I have no idea,” Frank answered. “Do you have any guesses?”

  “I suspect he went home to Monaco to recover from his crash,” Bill offered. “Wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll be back in a day or two. He wouldn’t miss this race for anything. Are you getting enough food? Please enjoy yourselves. Kellam will be by later.” He moved on to speak to an adjacent group.

  “Where does J. J. think Manion is?” Frank asked Joe. “He surely has some idea.”

  “He says he has no clue,” Joe said, “but—”

  Joe stopped talking when he saw Noah hurrying up to them. He looked like he’d been hit with a bolt of electricity. His eyes were wide, and he spoke in a low voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

  “Are you ready for this?” Noah said. “Hugh Conney’s been arrested.”

  6 Tracking Trouble

  * * *

  “Arrested?!” Joe repeated. “The Rabbit? What for?”

  “I’m not sure,” Noah answered, “but it has something to do with Manion Cristal. They took Hugh downtown a few minutes ago. I’m going there myself as soon as I find my cameraman. I’ll be right back.”

  The room erupted with activity as others heard the news. One by one, reporters and photographers put down their plates of food and rushed for the door.

  “Have you heard the news?” Becky asked, joining Frank and Joe.

  “Yes,” Frank said.

  “Look, I have to get downtown,” Becky said to the Hardys. “But I need to talk to you, and it’s got to be private. Let’s go outside.” She led the Hardys out of the suite and down to a secluded spot near the west stands.

  “I’ve checked you two out,” she said, her voice very low. “I know all about your background. You’re not only investigative reporters—you’re investigators, period.”

  “How did you find that out?” Joe asked.

  “That’s my job,” Becky said. “I’m in international publicity and public relations. My job is knowing people—who they are, what they do. I have a network of sources all over the world. I know all about your background as detectives.”

  “Look, Becky—,” Frank started.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone else, not even Noah. And I don’t intend to if you’d like to stay undercover.”

  “For the time being, yes,” Frank told her.

  “Done,” she promised. “But, do me a favor. Help me prove that Hugh is innocent. I know that man. Yes, he’s very competitive. He’s as much of a hothead as Manion, and he’s not above a little trick now and then. But he would never do anything illegal—anything that would actually keep him from racing. And I honestly don’t think he could ever hurt someone. Please help me.”

  Frank and Joe exchanged looks, then nodded at each other. “We’ll take a look at what’s going on,” Frank told her.

  “But you’ve got to be straight with us,” Joe said. “Tell us everything you know, and don’t hold anything back.”

  “I will,” Becky assured them. “Now I’ve got to get downtown. I’ll probably be up half the night meeting with the team. Can we get together for an early breakfast?”

  “I can’t,” Frank said. “I’m racing in the morning at the Velodrome. How about lunch?”

  “Okay,” she said. “Depending on what I find out downtown, maybe I can come to the race, or at least meet you there afterward. We’ll have lunch and I can tell you what I know.”

  “We’ll need everything,” Frank stressed. “I want information about all that’s happened to your team so far.”

  Becky smiled and tried to feign confidence. Frank could see, though, that she was really worried. She hurried out of the room without speaking to anyone else.

  “So what do you think?” Joe asked his brother.

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. “I keep coming back to the fact that although both drivers have been threatened, Manion’s the only one who was actually hurt.”

  “And now he’s missing,” Joe added.

  “Right. We definitely need to find out what that’s all about,” Frank said. “It could answer a lot of this mystery.”

  “Well, J. J.’s sure that Manion is an innocent victim,” Joe said. “And Becky’s sure The Rabbit’s an innocent victim. But somebody’s got to be guilty.”

  “So let’s find out which one,” Frank said. “We’re keeping Becky’s request to ourselves, right?”

  “Right,” Joe agreed. He looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet J. J. in a few minutes. He said he had a lead on what happened to the drinking bottle in Manion’s car.” Joe fished a small card out of his wallet and showed it to Frank. It had a dark gray stripe along one side.

  “A swipe card?” Frank asked.

  “It’ll get us into the paddock whenever we want,” Joe said. “J. J. got it for us. He put his job on the line for this, though. If anyone from his team finds out he gave us a card, it could be a problem.”

  “It’s worth the risk to him,” Frank reasoned. “He knows that if we can clear Manion, he’ll be a hero.”

  “Does it feel like we have too many ‘clients’ all of a sudden?” Joe said, grinning. “We’ve been asked to clear both drivers.”

  “Hey, the more information we get, the quicker we find the truth,” Frank said.

  “Look, you need to meet J. J.,” Frank said. “I’ll go to the press briefing about Hugh’s arrest. You keep the van, and I’ll ride downtown with Noah.”

  “Don’t forget you’ve got a bike race tomorrow morning,” Joe said. “It’s already ten-thirty. It’ll probably be midnight before either one of us finishes up. Why don’t you have Noah take you back to the hotel after the briefing? I’ll keep the van. You need to hit the Velodrome at full speed tomorrow.”

  “Good idea,” Frank said, smiling. “I’ll give you a call if there’s any change. Speaking of my bike, it’s in the van. Could you bring it upstairs when you get home?”

  “Don’t worry—it’ll be safe,” Joe assured his brother.

  “You guys want to ride downtown with us?” Noah asked, walking up with his cameraman.

  “Frank will,” Joe said. “I still have to work with some photos from the crash.”

  Joe watched Frank and Noah leave for the police press briefing. Then he walked from Bill’s suite to Manion’s garage. A couple of mechanics were inside, still pulling apart the wrecked car. They seemed startled to see Joe.

  “Hey, who are . . . oh, yeah, you’re that friend of J. J.’s.” While one of the men addressed Joe, the other stood in front of the wreckage as if to protect it. “You’re some kind of journalist, right?”

  “A photographer,” Joe said. “But I’m not here on business. See, no camera.” He held up his hands. “I’m meeting J. J. here.”

  “He’s in a team management conference right now,” the other man said. “He’ll probably be tied up for a while.”

  “No problem,” Joe said. “I’ll just hang around here until he’s finished.”

  The men went back to work, turning their backs to Joe. “So, are you going to be able to salvage anything?” he asked them. “Any parts that can be used in another car?”

  “Look, if you don’t mind,” one of the men said, “we need to get our jobs done here. We’ll probably be here most of the night as it is. We don’t really have time for chitchat.”

  Joe could tell that without J. J. around to grease the skids a little he was seen as an outsider. He gave his questioning a rest for about ten minutes, then tried again to start a conversation. But the men wouldn’t talk.

  Finally, after a hushed conversation between the mechanics, one of them walked over to Joe. “How about waiting outside for J. J.,” he said. He guided Joe firmly toward the door and nudged him through it. The door closed and Joe heard the lock turn.

  “Okay, then,” Joe said under his breath. “Message understood.”

  He waited for a while, then checked his watch. It was ten-fifty. I wonder what’s going on at Hugh Conney’s garage, he thought. All the management’s probably downtown . . . He decided to wander over and check it out.

  At first it looked very dark inside, with no signs of activity. The garage had only one window. It was located on the back wall of the garage and was painted black on the inside. Joe stayed in the shadows. He knew that he was even less welcome here than he was at Manion’s garage.

  As he drew closer, Joe noticed a tiny scratch in the paint blacking out the one window. It was too small to actually see through, but it did glow periodically with a faint light. That could be coming from some sort of flashing monitor or gauge inside the garage, he thought. But maybe not.

  He stepped closer and turned his ear to the dusty window. There’s someone shuffling around in there, he noticed. Maybe the person’s holding a small flashlight or a lighted match?

  He pressed his ear hard against the black window, holding his breath so he could hear the shuffling noise. The intermittent glow behind the tiny paint scratch suddenly disappeared, and the shuffling sound seemed to get closer.

  Joe looked around. It was very quiet, and he seemed to be the only person in the area. He darted behind a parked car near the garage. He could still see the garage door through one of the car’s windows.

  The stony silence was suddenly pierced by the sounds of voices coming from his left. Joe was breathing very fast now, his chest pumping in rhythm with his heart. He glanced around for a larger shield and spotted a dumpster ten yards away.

  As he crept away from the car, he heard a low click—like the turn of a doorknob. Suddenly a muscular arm wrapped around Joe’s neck from behind. Joe’s knees buckled, and he fought for his breath. He managed to push back up quickly and regain his balance.

  Joe tried to suck in some air, but he could feel his throat constrict from the pressure of his attacker’s forearm. Twisting and attempting to pull away just made the big arm pull tighter against his throat.

  Joe grabbed at the arm with both hands, but it was like trying to pull away a steel rod bolted to wood. The struggle became harder, and finally he couldn’t breathe at all.