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the spot where they'd been standing seconds before.
The entire house then began to sway and to crumple inward. Dozens of hands grabbed
Frank and Joe, hustling them away. More helped to move the injured Gray Man.
Frank and Joe stood at the entrance to the dead-end street, watching as the old brick
building collapsed completely.
"I'll tell you one thing," Joe said quietly as the roof fell in.
"What?" asked Frank.
"They'll never call that a safe house again."
75
By then, fire engines and emergency personnel were arriving. Tender hands
bundled the Gray Man aboard an ambulance. "You're coming along, too," said Perkins,
leading Frank and Joe to the medical people.
Doctors at the-hospital declared that Frank was merely shaken up. They were much
more grim about the Gray Man's condition and immediately wheeled him into surgery.
"Come on," said Perkins when he found the Hardys pacing around the waiting room.
"What now?" asked Frank.
"I'd say it was time for you two to wash up and get some fresh clothes and maybe
some rest. Then perhaps we should get you in to talk with the Chief."
"The Chief" turned out to be Sir Nigel Folliott, head of British Intelligence. Hollywood
couldn't have gotten a better actor for the part. Folliott was a man with a mane of ginger
hair going silver, and large, handsome features. As Perkins ushered the Hardys into his
huge wood paneled, book-lined office, Sir Nigel rose from his old-fashioned teak desk.
"I've been getting regular reports from the hospital on our friend," he said after
introductions had been made. "He's remarkably fit for such a nondescript-looking sort.
The doctors say he'll pull through."
Joe and Frank smiled at that.
"However," Sir Nigel went on, "he'll be in
76
hospital for some time. And he's still not conscious. I understand you joined his
investigation"-he coughed-"rather informally. So the question is, what do I do with you?"
"When, Sir Nigel, we have some questions," Frank said. "We came here after the
Assassins. Have any more been caught?"
"Frankly, no," Sir Nigel said. "We found the tunnel they used. hard to miss, actually.
They used too much explosive to seal off the digging and blew out one of the nearby
roads. Blasted thing went three blocks to an abandoned building. Well outside the cordon
we'd drawn up."
 So they got away, Joe said, disappointed.
"From that building, yes. From London . . . well, that's another story. We've sealed the
city. Buses, motorways, airports, even the shipping routes are being watched."
"You're saying it's impossible for them to escape?" Frank asked.
Sir Nigel shook his head. "Not impossible but very dangerous. If they want to escape
arrest, they'll have to lie low for the time being."
"That means they won't be able to have much to do with whatever is going on in
Bayport," Frank said. "I suppose that's a win."
"And you've already cost Al-Rousasa the reinforcements he was expecting-that pair
who tried to hijack your plane," Perkins pointed out.
"That's a victory, too." He smiled. "In case you're wondering, the
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people who were on the flight with you are now arriving in London-a little stiff from
having to sit around in the plane so long, but otherwise safe and sound."
"The surviving hijacker can't tell us anything more about the planned terror campaign
in the U.S.," Sir Nigel said. "We've passed everything we found on to your government.
"But the question still remains-what about you?" His face grew serious as he went on.
"Perkins told me a bit about your backgrounds and why you've involved yourselves in
this case. I tell you frankly, I don't approve of people with personal axes to grind."
"So what do you figure on doing?" Joe cut in. I "Do you want to keep us here?" His
scowl clearly showed what he thought of that idea.
"Sir Nigel," Frank said more diplomatically, "if you've informed the American
authorities of what's going on, maybe you should send us back to Bayport so that we can"
-he paused for a second-"give whatever assistance we can."
"What are you talking about? Give whatever assistance we can ?' Joe burst out. "I want
to kill-"
A look from Frank silenced him.
"Um, I mean, I really want to see this Al-Rousasa caught," Joe said. "And if there's
anything I can do to help-"
"We do know the town," Frank put in.
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Sir Nigel gazed at them seriously. "Under the Official Secrets Act, I'd be quite within
my rights to keep you. But under the circumstances, I'll accept your promise to tell no
one--no one about what took place after you left Bayport."
He smiled suddenly. "I can see that you both feel strongly about getting home. And that
was Perkins's suggestion as well."
He picked up an envelope from his desk. "These tickets are for the next flight.
Somehow, I suspected -you'd want to be on it."
Frank took the tickets gratefully. "You're right, Sir Nigel. Thank you."
Perkins was just opening the door for them when they heard a disturbance in the outer
office.
"I demand to see Sir Nigel!" a voice cried angrily. "That collapsed building was a safe
house for the Assassins, and I want to know-"
Frank recognized the voice and quickly shut the door.
"That's Dad," Joe whispered. "What do we do now?"
"Sir Nigel," Frank said, "I think we have a problem." Quickly he explained Fenton
Hardy's arrangements for them and where they were supposed to be. "So if our father
finds us here, we'll give away the whole show."
"Well, you are heading home now," Sir Nigel said with a conspiratorial smile. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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