Mystery of Smugglers Cove (4 page)

“You'd break an axle before you were halfway down the track,” Biff predicted.

Joe and the newcomers went inside and joined Frank in the living room.

Noticing the books about the Florida Keys on the table, Chet peered quizzically at the young detectives. “What gives? You guys going on a vacation?”

“I bet you're on another case,” Biff declared.

“You're right,” Frank said. “And it started right here in Bayport.” Quickly he and his brother briefed his pals on the Wester mystery.

“Hey, can I come along?” Chet asked enthusiastically.

“Count me in too!” Biff added. He waved a fist in the air. “I'd like to get a few rounds with those crooks!”

“We're likely to run into a gang of smugglers,” Joe warned.

“Smugglers, jugglers, they're all the same,” Chet declared. “If it's a gang, you and Frank can use a couple of backstops.”

The Hardys agreed that four would be better than two on Key Blanco, and that Chet and Biff would be welcome to go along if it was
okay
with their parents.

“We'll find out and get back to you as soon as we can!” Chet promised as he and Biff stormed out of the door. “Keep your fingers crossed!”

Frank and Joe went into the study to consult their father.

“I hope Chet and Biff will be able to go,” Fenton Hardy said. “From what I hear, Key Blanco is a rough place, and you can use all the help you can get. Anyway, I'll alert the Key Blanco police that you boys will be posing as smugglers.”

Later, Chet and Biff phoned to say they could go, and the four youths agreed to meet at the airport the following morning.

Their flight for Miami took off promptly. Their seats were located at the rear of the plane. The four friends relaxed and watched the states of the East Coast fall behind as the plane thundered toward Florida.

Half an hour into the flight, Frank stood up to get a soda from the galley. When he returned, he put his drink down excitedly. “Hey! See those two guys sitting up front? One is tall and muscular, the other one fat. And he's wearing the same checkered pants as one of the heavies we ran into at the Bayport Hotel!”

Joe whistled. “Those pants looked so horrible on a shape like his that I can't believe this passenger is another man with the same bad taste!”

“What you're trying to say,” Chet spoke up, “is that these people are the same men who tied up Raymond Wester?”

“Very likely!”

“I wish we could hear what they're saying,” Joe said. “But if we go up there, they'll recognize us.”

“They wouldn't recognize Biff and Chet,” Frank declared. “How about it, fellows? Want to do a little detective work for us?”

Biff stood up with a grin. “There's nobody sitting behind them,” he stated. “I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, buddy. ”

Biff made a circle with his thumb and index finger to show he had everything under control. Then he strolled casually up the aisle and slipped into the empty seat. The passengers in front of him had their heads together and were talking in low voices.

“Bringing the Hardys into the case was a dumb idea,” the fat man grumbled. “Morphy flubbed it when he left that photograph and said they were the couriers he hired to take the painting to Key Blanco.”

“He thought it would fool everybody,” the tall man said with a shrug. “Morphy figured that Raymond Wester would sic the police on the Hardys. Unfortunately, he hired them instead!”

The fat man gritted his teeth. “And you know, Tom, our trick to force him into taking those kids off the case didn't work either.”

“You're right. Instead of giving up, they'll probably stick to this assignment like a couple of bulldogs. They have a reputation for never giving up. What if they find out me and Nitron took the picture?”

“They might find out more than that! Suppose they get wise to the whole smuggling operation? I still say we shoulda finished ‘em off in Bayport. Those scare tactics the chief wanted us to use were strictly for the birds!”

Tom sighed. “We gotta follow orders. And if the Hardys catch up with us, we'll toss ‘em to the alligators!”

Biff clenched his fists on hearing the evil remark. That's what you think! he thought angrily while listening closely to the continued conversation.

“The sooner we knock off the Hardys, the better I'd like it,” the fat man was saying.

“Here's what we'll do, Fatso, if the Hardys give us a hard time,” Tom proposed. “We'll kidnap ‘em and take 'em to—”

Biff leaned forward to hear better. Tom noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye and suddenly whirled around to confront him!

Just then the plane shuddered in a downdraft and tilted over on its nose. Biff was thrown against the seat in front of him when the plane dipped to one side in the violence of its descent. The next moment he tumbled into the aisle!

Fatso and Tom hit the wall separating them from the galley. There were confused shouts from the other passengers as the plane hurtled toward the ground.

“We're gonna crash!” Fatso yelled in terror.

Then the pilot regained control of the craft. The plane leveled out, and zoomed upward again to a safe altitude. The travelers calmed down and the two men fell back into their seats with sighs of relief.

Biff scrambled to his feet as Tom stared at him suspiciously.

“Kid, were you eavesdropping on us?” the tall man growled.

“I lost my balance when the plane started to go down,” Biff replied apologetically. “I did a nose dive into the seat behind you and then got thrown out into the aisle. I didn't hear a word you said.”

“Well, you better go back to your seat and stay there,” Tom warned him.

“And use your seat belt,” Fatso added. “That way you'll stay put instead of draping yourself all over us!”

Biff grinned as if to say he was embarrassed by the accident. He made his way down the aisle and joined his friends. Quickly he reported what he had heard the two men say.

“They're the guys from the hotel all right,” Frank said. “And they're smugglers! How do you like that?”

“The tall guy, Tom, was in on the picture heist,” Chet noted. “Apparently he and Nitron were the couriers Morphy hired.”

“And Morphy's definitely their accomplice,” Joe said.

“I wonder who the chief is,” Chet said. “Must be the top man on the smugglers' totem pole.”

Frank was puzzled. “But why did they talk about alligators? There aren't any ‘gators on Key Blanco. They're in the Everglades.”

“Let's shadow these guys when we arrive in Miami,” Joe suggested. “They might lead us to the rest of the gang.”

Suddenly Chet looked up and saw the two men advancing toward them along the aisle.

“Frank and Joe, watch out!” he hissed.

Catching on instantly, the Hardys took defensive measures. Joe hastily picked up a newspaper he had been reading and handed part of it to his brother. They put the pages over their faces and pretended to be asleep.

The men came closer and stopped at the line of seats occupied by the boys from Bayport. Biff got ready for action by clenching his hands into a pair of fists and was about to tell the Hardys that a free-for-all was coming. Just then Tom called to a flight attendant.

“Where're the pillows for the seats up front?”

“Yeah, how do you expect us to sleep?” Fatso barked.

The pretty, dark-haired woman smiled soothingly. “I'll bring you a couple of pillows right away.”

The two men retired to their seats and the boys looked after them with relieved grins. “The coast is clear,” Biff announced, and Frank and Joe dropped the newspaper.

“They didn't see you,” Chet declared. “You ducked under those pages just in time.”

Joe looked at the section he had been using and chuckled. “What do you know. The sports page. Joe Hardy was saved by the baseball scores.”

Suddenly Chet's eyes lit up. “I see the chow coming, fellows! Get ready for the feast!”

The flight attendant pushed a cart from the galley up to where they were sitting and handed them trays with fruit juice, chicken, vegetables, and an apple tart.

The other three began to eat in a leisurely manner, but Chet pitched in with great gusto. In rapid succession the contents of his tray disappeared. After he downed the last piece of apple tart, he leaned back blissfully in his chair, patted his stomach, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

Frank chuckled. “Chet and food always go together. ”

“Like ham and eggs,” Biff agreed.

The plane crossed the Florida border and soon the Tamiami Trail became visible snaking its way across the state.

When they landed in Miami, the Hardys again took refuge behind the newspaper pages, since the two smugglers started for the rear exit. The boys waited till Tom and Fatso had filed past, then brought up the end of the line where they could watch the men without being noticed.

The pair went through the lobby to a rent-a-car desk. As they were making arrangements for a car, Frank did the same at the counter of another company. Starting their car at a safe distance, the young detectives were able to follow the smugglers as they pulled away from the terminal in a blue compact.

Biff drove, with Chet beside him. Frank and Joe occupied the rear seat to avoid being seen.

“I have a hunch the smugglers are going to Key Blanco, too,” Frank said as the lead car headed south through Miami Springs toward Coral Gables.

“Good,” Joe said. “This way it's no detour for us. All we have to do is follow them.”

“That's easier said than done,” Biff grumbled. “This traffic's terrible.”

He maneuvered their car through Coral Gables, keeping the blue compact in view but not getting close enough to be seen and arouse suspicion.

At a major intersection, the light turned amber. The blue compact picked up speed and raced through. Biff tried to follow, but the signal changed to red and he was forced to slam on the brakes. The smugglers vanished on the other side of the light!

“Oh, rats. We've lost them,” Biff said, disappointed. “What do we do now?”

“Forget them,” Chet suggested. “Who needs them anyway? I'll solve the case once we get to Key Blanco!”

His companions, who were used to Chet's boast-fulness, laughed, then decided to take his advice since they had no alternative. They left South Miami, Kendall, and Perrine behind and paused for a snack at a fast-food restaurant in Cutler Ridge. Then they rolled south again along the main route, making good time until they were near Homestead.

Suddenly the blue compact came into view up ahead.

“There they are!” Biff cried out. “We've caught up with them.”

“Don't lose them again,” Joe urged.

Biff stepped on the gas and drew closer to the smugglers than he had before. “I'll have to stick to them,” he said. “But it'll be dark soon, so they probably won't spot us that easily.”

As the two cars whizzed along the highway, Frank said, “I wonder why they're in such a hurry!”

“I have a feeling we'll find out,” Chet predicted.

There was no one between the two vehicles as they entered Homestead. The compact took a route to the center of town. Biff kept up the pursuit.

Suddenly the blue car swerved sharply to the right, turned a corner, and was lost to sight. It happened so quickly that Biff nearly drove past the corner. He hit the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the right as hard as he could, his tires squealing as he made the turn.

They found themselves in a dark alley with sheer brick walls on both sides. A flashlight blinking in the middle of the road forced Biff to a jolting stop. The boys could see the tail lights of another car parked about twenty yards ahead of them.

The flashlight moved and its beam hit Biff in the eyes before swinging over to Chet. Out of the pitch blackness, Tom's voice snarled at Biff:

“Kid, you've tailed us far enough! This is the end of the chase for you and that fat kid next to you!”

“It's an ambush!” Joe whispered to Frank hoarsely. “But he hasn't seen us. Duck!”

The Hardys hit the floor just before the beam of the flashlight played over the rear seat. Finding it empty, Tom turned back to Biff and Chet.

“We saw you kids tailing us on the highway,” he snarled. “So we set a little trap for you, and you ran right into it. Now, what are you up to?”

Realizing they were dealing with dangerous men, Biff decided to try to talk his way out of the ambush.

“We weren't tailing you,” he replied innocently. “Matter of fact, we're on our way to the Florida Keys for a little vacation. You see, my aunt lives there and she invited us to stay with her for a couple of weeks.”

Chet caught on instantly. “We were talking about the Everglades and I guess my friend didn't pay much attention to the road. So he made the wrong turn into the alley. I hear the Everglades are really nice. Lots of alligators.”

Tom coughed nervously. “What do you know about alligators?” he demanded.

“Oh, some guys wrestle them,” Chet replied with a silly grin. “That's what I'd like to do. I'd love to make the alligator wrestling team.”

“Very funny,” Tom scoffed.

Biff rambled on. “You might be caught by poachers,” he said to Chet. “There's lots of those in the Everglades, too!”