He and Frank had stayed awake into the early morning hours, talking about what they needed to do. Agents Sims and Martin—or whoever they really were—both snored so loudly that the Hardys were sure that any forest creatures that might have been curious about these intruders were kept away by the noise.

  Neither Joe nor Frank could pinpoint where things had not gone according to plan. First of all, they honestly didn’t expect the Wilkersons to be gone. The possibility had entered their minds, of course—but Detective Kitimat’s friend hadn’t seen the Wilkersons leaving Hudson’s Hope in a car. And it had never occurred to him that the Wilkersons would head right into the forest from just beyond their cabin.

  That would have been enough of a challenge without the added complication of two men who had initially fooled them into believing they were FBI agents.

  “That was really stupid of us,” Joe muttered under his breath.

  In normal circumstances, he knew, that would never have happened. He and Frank were very familiar with what FBI identification badges looked like and would easily have been able to recognize one that was phony. Of course, when Frank asked to see the men’s IDs, Joe knew, he was hanging upside down in a net trap and Frank was wondering if these two guys were going to do something rash. He was probably just so relieved that the men said they were FBI agents that he did no more than give the badges a cursory glance.

  Joe wouldn’t even be thinking about any of this, of course, if he hadn’t stepped into the trap. Normally he was much more cognizant of his surroundings—but when you’re being chased through an unfamiliar forest by men brandishing guns, you do tend to be a little less focused than usual, he told himself. The trap was responsible for his losing the walkie-talkie, too, so they couldn’t communicate directly with Detective Kitimat.

  It was Frank who had figured out why Detective Kitimat probably hadn’t shown himself. “I’m sure he overheard these guys say they were FBI agents,” he’d said. “That changed the whole dynamic of our situation.”

  Joe had nodded in agreement. “Especially if he had also heard about this super-secret Witness Protection Program,” he said. “He might think that they wouldn’t want anyone else to know about it.”

  “We have to get away from these two guys, Joe, and find the Wilkersons,” Frank had said. “My gut tells me I can believe that they’re trying to get to this secret location so they can become a part of this special Witness Protection Program that nobody is supposed to know about. But we have to make sure that these two guys don’t find them first.”

  Both Frank and Joe thought that real FBI agents would probably know more about this program than these two did.

  Joe could see that the two men were starting to wake up, so he shook Frank’s shoulder. “Wake up,” he whispered. “I need to tell you something before our phony FBI agents get too close to hear what we’re staying.”

  Frank stifled a yawn. “Okay,” he said. “What?”

  “Once we’re on the trail,” Joe said, “we’re going to “accidentally’ make life miserable for them.”

  “How so?” Frank asked.

  “We’re going to be the worst hikers in the world,” Joe whispered. “We’re going to let branches go in their faces and we’re going to slip and slide whenever we can—but not before we’ve grabbed hold of one of them to help keep us from falling.”

  “Sounds like a winning idea,” Frank said. He stood up. “Hey, you guys hungry?” he shouted.

  “Yes,” the two phony agents said. They were standing now, but they still sounded groggy.

  Frank tossed them two bags of trail mix, and the two men dug in immediately.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Agent Sims asked.

  “Well, we didn’t come prepared for bacon and eggs,” Joe said. He stood up. “Sorry.”

  “We need to be on the trail, anyway,” Frank told them. “The Wilkersons will be starting out soon too, and we don’t want them to get too far ahead.”

  “We actually need to move faster than they do,” Joe added. “It’s really a simple law of physics.”

  “Huh?” Agent Martin said. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “If we walk at the same speed they’re walking, we’ll never reach them,” Frank explained. “We have to walk faster than they do.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Agent Sims said. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  The Hardys put on their backpacks.

  “Actually, we’re waiting for you guys,” Joe said. He grinned at them. “Ready?”

  Frank could tell that both agents wanted to make a smart retort, but they didn’t. Instead they walked across the clearing and got behind Frank and Joe.

  “Show me their tracks again,” Agent Martin said after they had been walking for about fifteen minutes. “You guys aren’t trying to get us lost, are you?”

  Joe hadn’t been prepared for that question. Up until now, he had honestly felt that the two phony FBI agents believed everything they had said.

  The Hardys stopped.

  “There they are,” Joe said. He pointed to the tracks—he was sure they were from the Wilkersons.

  “Okay,” Agent Sims said. “We were just checking.”

  “That was a dumb thing to say,” Frank told him. “Why would we try to get us lost?”

  “Yeah,” Joe added. “We’re planning to join the Wilkersons ourselves and go where they go.”

  “You don’t think anybody will try to stop us, do you?” Frank asked. “After all, we’re not running from any criminals, like the Wilkersons are.”

  Agent Sims shook his head. “Naw, it won’t be a problem,” he said—a bit quickly, Joe thought. “They won’t mind if you want to spend the rest of your lives there.”

  “Yeah, it’s just up to you,” Agent Martin added. “I hear there are a lot of people there who’ve just dropped out of society.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Frank said. “That’s what my brother and I are planning to do.”

  “Come on. We’re wasting too much time,” Joe said. He picked up his pace to a fast walk. “We’ll never find them if we have to keep stopping to explain all of this to you guys.”

  Just then, Frank and Joe had to part a couple of low hanging branches in order to stay on the trail. In unison, they let the branches go as the phony agents came even with them.

  The two men let out loud, ear-piercing howls and immediatley grabbed their faces.

  “Hey! Watch it!” Agent Martin screamed. “Are you two crazy or something?”

  “What happened?” Frank cried. “Are you two all right?”

  “No, we’re not all right,” Agent Sims said. “My face is on fire!”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Frank said in as innocent a voice as he could muster. “I honestly didn’t know you were that close behind me.”

  Joe could see huge red welts on the faces of both men. He knew just by looking that it must have been really painful.

  “There’s probably a stream up ahead,” Frank said. “You can put some cold water on your faces. That’ll help.”

  “Well come on, then,” Agent Martin said. “I’ve never had anything hurt me this much.”

  The two phony FBI agents were now walking side by side with the Hardys, looking ahead expectantly for the water that Frank had promised them.

  It was another fifteen minutes before Frank heard the rush of a mountain stream. “It won’t be long now,” he said.

  Joe was almost feeling sorry for the two agents, because the welts on their faces had swollen considerably. Still, when they reached the stream, which was wider than he thought it would be, he decided that it was time to create another problem for Agents Sims and Martin.

  As Agent Martin gingerly stepped out onto the rocks at the side of the rushing water, Joe followed him closely, and, just as Agent Martin leaned over to scoop up a handful of the cold water, Joe pretended to slip, shouted, “Don’t let me fall!”, and knocked Agent Martin into the middle of the cold water.

  “AAAAAGGGGHHHH!” Agent Martin screamed.

  Frank and Agent Sims rushed to the bank.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Joe said. “I was about to fall, and I thought I could keep from doing it by holding on to Agent Martin.”

  “I saw the whole thing,” Frank said quickly. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “You clumsy idiot!” Agent Sims screamed. He was stretched out on the muddy bank, reaching his arm out to Agent Martin, who now was standing in the middle of the frigid rushing mountain water. “Grab hold, Jersey!” Agent Sims shouted.

  “I’m trying, Willy!” Agent Martin shouted.

  Frank looked at Joe. Jersey? Willy? he mouthed and rolled his eyes.

  Finally Agent Martin was able to reach Agent Sims’s hand so he could be pulled out of the water.

  Joe was prepared for an onslaught of angry words, but Agent Martin was shivering so much that he was unable to get anything out of his mouth.

  “Should we build a fire and let him dry off?” Frank suggested.

  “No!” Agent Sims said, baring his teeth. “He’ll dry off while we’re running through the forest.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “Let’s walk down this way. There may be a narrower place to cross.”

  Frank had already seen that this was exactly what the Wilkersons had done, because the tracks led in the direction he was now headed—but it hadn’t seemed to occur to the two phony FBI agents to ask about that. The only thing that seemed to be on Agent Martin’s mind was staying warm. From time to time, they came into sunlight, and Joe noticed that Agent Martin slowed down—but Agent Sims would always gruffly tell him to speed up.

  Gradually Frank and Joe edged far enough ahead of the two men that they could whisper to each other without being heard.

  “The Wilkersons must not have crossed the stream, because their tracks are moving away from it now, heading toward that ravine over there,” Frank said. “I don’t think they’re too far away, either.”

  “Then I think it’s time we make our move,” Joe said.

  “The problem is, how are we going to do it so that they don’t immediately know what has happened?” Frank said. He stopped and glanced back at the two men. “You two all right?” he shouted.

  “Yeah, keep going,” Agent Sims shouted back. “Don’t worry about us.”

  “That’s what we’re planning on doing,” Joe muttered. “That’s exactly what we’re planning on doing.”

  “I think I know how we can do it, because that brush up ahead is really thick,” Frank said. “It’ll be easy to get lost.”

  “Yeah,” Joe agreed. “It’ll take them a while to realize that we’re gone.”

  Frank and Joe started walking a little faster, but not so fast that the two men would notice. When they reached the thick underbrush, they plunged through it, glad that their clothing—for the most part—would protect them from getting badly scratched. Then they sped up.

  When Frank thought they were far enough into the brush that they couldn’t be seen, they started down the side of the steep ravine.

  “Are we going to lose the Wilkersons’ trail, Frank?” Joe asked.

  “No,” Frank said. “Right before they reached this underbrush, they veered to the right. I saw the broken grass, but I don’t think those two bozos will notice it. They’ll just plunge into this brush after us.”

  “You’re sure we can find their tracks again?” Joe said.

  “I’m positive,” Frank said. “We’ll cross this ravine, but those guys will stay on this side of it.”

  The going was rough because they had to contend with the thick tangles of vines and branches and the steep plunge of the side of the ravine—but finally they reached the bottom. They found that the floor was full of water, but not so much that it was impossible to cross.

  Immediately they crossed over and began climbing up the other side of the ravine. Finally they reached the top.

  “Now we just need to make our way out of this underbrush, and we’ll be back on the Wilkersons’ trail,” Frank said.

  Another fifty feet and they were onto more manageable terrain.

  “That’s amazing,” Joe said. “I would have thought this was almost impenetrable.”

  “It looks that way,” Frank agreed. He had stopped and was searching the ground. Finally he said, “There they are.”

  “Those tracking classes you took at the national park last year have really paid off, haven’t they?” Joe said.

  “You got that right,” Frank said. “Come on!”

  They picked up their pace, following the Wilkersons’ tracks—then Frank stopped. “Oh, no!” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” Joe asked.

  “Look!” Frank said. He pointed to the ground. “These tracks are doubling back on us now.”

  “What does that mean?” Joe said.

  “It probably means that the Wilkersons didn’t continue on in this direction, because the terrain got too rough,” Frank said. He looked around. “They’re going back toward the ravine.”

  “So they crossed over and then returned?” Joe asked.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Frank said. He took a pair of binoculars out of his backpack. “There’s a spot just a few feet back where we can see across the ravine,” he said. “I want to find out what’s going on over there.”

  The Hardy boys backtracked. When they reached the spot that Frank had mentioned, they stopped.

  Frank scanned the top of the cliff with the binoculars. “Oh, no!” he said. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Let me see,” Joe said.

  Frank handed him the binoculars. Joe could clearly see Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson and Darren, dressed for hiking, with large packs on their backs. Moving the binoculars to his left, he could also see the two phony FBI agents. They were out of the heavy brush and were at the edge of the ravine too. And the two groups were heading right toward each other.

  “We have to warn them!” Frank said.

  Joe was just about to shout a warning across the ravine to the Wilkersons when they were suddenly surrounded by two armed men.

  9 The New Plan

  Everything happened so fast that neither Frank nor Joe had time to register exactly what was going on—and then a third man appeared.

  “Detective Kitimat!” Frank said. He looked at the two other men. “Who are these guys?”

  “These are Agents Martin and Sims out of the Seattle, Washington, FBI office,” Detective Kitimat said as he pointed out each man. “We sort of ran into each other on the trail. I’ve known these two men for a long time.”

  “What?” Frank and Joe said in unison. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “What do you mean?” Agent Sims said.

  “Could we see your identification, please?” Frank said.

  Joe could tell that the two men thought this was a waste of time, but they didn’t say so and they quickly produced their FBI identification.

  This time, both Frank and Joe scrutinized the badges very carefully.

  “Well, I guess you really are who you say you are,” Frank said.

  “Unlike that other Agent Martin and Agent Sims,” Joe added.

  “Now what are you talking about?” Agent Martin asked.

  Frank quickly told them the entire story of what had happened with the two phony FBI agents, from the time he and Joe encountered them in the Wilkersons’ cabin, to when they had escaped.

  Agent Martin and Agent Sims looked at each other.

  “The fact that they knew exactly who’d be coming for the Wilkersons means there’s a leak somewhere in this chain of command—and it explains a lot about what happened to us,” Agent Sims said. “We’ll have to find the leak quick and get it plugged.”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked. “How’d they get to the Wilkersons’ cabin before you guys?”

  “We were driving into Hudson’s Hope when we were pulled over by the British Columbia Provincial Police,” Agent Martin said. “The whole thing’s smelled fishy from the very beginning, but we thought that maybe somebody out of Hudson’s Hope just didn’t get the message.”

  “It’s happened before,” Agent Sims added. “Most of the time the law enforcement agencies of our two countries work very well together, but sometimes you have people in these little towns who get territorial and do everything they can to stymie your investigations.”

  “They resent their own country’s agencies that are above them,” Agent Martin said, “and when you’re not even a member of a police force in their country, you can really run into a brick wall.”

  “This particular officer had been ‘tipped off’ by someone,” Agent Sims said. “He kept telling us that some American FBI agents were coming into town, planning to take Canadian law into their own hands.”

  “We’re working with the British Columbia authorities on this case,” Agent Martin told them. “We kept showing him the papers, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “Finally we convinced him to call a number in Victoria, and he did,” Agent Sims said. “Then he apologized, more or less—but of course by then we had been delayed enough that the Wilkersons were already gone when we got to their cabin.”

  “But we could tell by the tracks leading away from the cabin that several people had headed into the woods,” Agent Martin said, “so we immediately started after them.”

  “They found me,” Detective Kitimat said, “and then we found you two.”

  “This whole thing is getting more and more bizarre,” Joe said. “Those two phony FBI agents kept talking about an ultra-secret Witness Protection Program that very few people know about.”

  Frank could tell that the two FBI agents were stunned by what they had just heard. “Are they right?” he asked them point blank.

  “Look,” Agent Martin said, obviously frustrated by the turn of events, “we need to find the Wilkersons, and we think they’re around here somewhere. Can this explanation just wait until then?”

  “Well, Frank and I can tell you exactly where the Wilkersons are,” Joe said. He turned and pointed across the ravine. “They’re over there, on the other side.”