Nightmare in Angel City (8 page)

"This way," the tour guide said, pointing the tourists out the door. "We have lots more to see before we go back to the rockets."

Frank and Joe hung back, watching as the rest of the audience left. "Go with them, Callie," Frank said. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "We'll catch up as soon as we can, but someone needs to stick with the tour in case we don't find anything."

"Oh, all right," Callie said with a sigh. "Be careful."

"We will," Frank replied. "Whatever you do, don't get separated from the tour."

After one last, doubtful look, Callie followed the others out. Frank and Joe started back up to the stage as Peter reappeared from the curtains.

"What are you boys doing here?" he asked uncertainly. "The tour's moved on." Peter wasn't smiling now.

"We want to talk to you about your gun," Frank said.

Suddenly Peter spun and bolted through the curtains. The Hardys ran up the stairs, pushing through the black cloth backing the stage. The backstage area was cluttered with mannequins and half-finished sets. Smears of paint had been carelessly left everywhere. "There he goes!" said Joe as Peter ducked behind some woodwork. Sprinting, Joe began closing the gap between them. Peter reached an emergency door. It swung open, and Joe knew they'd lose him if Peter got outside.

He dove, sliding across the smooth, paint-spattered floor, and tackled Peter. They fell together to the floor. Desperately, Peter kicked Joe away. Joe scrambled to his feet and watched in awe as Peter performed a perfect backflip. In one motion he stood up and swung at Joe. Joe ducked the blow and slammed his fist into the young man's stomach, forcing the wind out of him. Peter dropped to his knees, clutching his gut.

"Now can we talk about the gun?" Joe asked as he and Frank surrounded him.

Still kneeling, Peter held up his hand. "I didn't know it was real," he said. "Not until you shot it during the act."

"You didn't seem too surprised about it," Joe said, and raised his fist menacingly.

"It's part of my job," Peter protested. "Even when things don't go right I have to make everything seem routine."

"Is killing tourists routine around here?" Joe shouted at him. "How come it happened when we were onstage? Why'd you choose us?"

"I didn't," Peter said. "I follow signals. The tour guides figure out who's the likeliest to go along with us, and they point out volunteers to me.

"So our tour guide set us up?"

"I don't know," Peter insisted. "She checked with Mr. Bates first, and he okayed it."

"Bates?" Frank said, puzzled. "Who's that?"

Peter stared at him. "You never heard of Stuart Bates? He's chairman of the board. He runs Meteoric Studios."

"Why would he bother with something like this?" Joe asked.

"He likes to come around to watch the crowds," Peter explained. "I don't know why. He never talks to me."

"You saw him okay us for the act?"

"It was funny. It looked to me like he suggested you, and your guide went along with it."

Frank took it all in. "When did Bates take over Meteoric Studios?"

"Eight or nine years ago," Peter said. "He saved the studio when it was about to go bankrupt. He financed the picture that put Meteoric back on its feet."

Joe unclenched his hand. To Frank he said, "Remember what we heard? That was almost a decade ago."

Frank nodded. "Two million dollars would go a long way toward financing a small movie. I bet the chairman of the board can get into the wardrobe anytime he wants "So he gets us into a deadly situation and switches the gun," Joe guessed. "Makes sense."

"No," said Peter. "Mr. Bates was in the audience the whole time. He couldn't have touched the gun."

Both of them turned to Peter. Joe grabbed his collar and jerked him to his feet. "You've been lying to us. You were the one who rigged the gun."

"No!" Peter insisted. "I don't touch the guns. It's Jim. The ninja. He sets up all the props."

"So where — " Joe began. But he had no chance to finish.

"Joe," Frank yelled.

A black-gloved hand had shoved a stiletto through a flat that Joe was standing in front of.

Joe threw himself to the floor and rolled away just in time to see the knife slash down at him.

Frank caught the hand, slammed it twice against his leg, and the hand dropped the knife. Joe kicked it away. With a shout Frank spun and jerked the arm over his shoulder. The ninja tore through the flat and landed with a thud on his back.

He kicked up, catching Frank in the shin and knocking him off balance. Joe clipped the ninja in the arm with a right hook, and the ninja stumbled back, stopping in front of a chair. He picked it up and brought it down hard against Joe's shoulder.

Joe stood there, as surprised as the ninja was that he was unharmed. "A breakaway chair," he said amazed. "Another prop."

The ninja ducked Joe's punch, only to walk into a karate chop from Frank. He reeled back into some more flats. Frantically, he pulled on them, and they cascaded down on the Hardys. By the time Frank and Joe freed themselves, the ninja was gone.

"That solves the mystery of the switched guns," Joe said, getting to his feet. He picked up the fallen switchblade. "At least he lost his toothpick."

"Oh, no," said Peter. His eyes rested on a young man, who lay unconscious in his underwear, bound and gagged behind the fallen screens. "That's Jim!"

"Then who was in the ninja suit?" Frank wondered out loud. Quickly, they untied the young man and slapped his cheek to wake him up. His eyes finally fluttered open.

"Who did this to you?" Joe asked.

"Never saw him before," the young man said weakly. "Never."

"You'll be okay," Frank comforted. "What did he look like?"

"Didn't see much. Only a patch over an eye."

Frank and Joe looked at each other in dismay. "Patch!" said Frank. To Peter he said, "Can you take care of your friend?"

"Sure."

"How do we get to where the tour is now?"

"They should be looking at the computerized special effects generators now," Peter said. He gave them directions, and the Hardys ran through the emergency door.

"Great," said Joe. "If we're right about Bates, we've got two killers loose on the grounds."

"And we left Callie alone." Frank's voice was tight as he led the way. "We've got to find her." They reached another building and flung open the door.

The tour was gathered around a television screen, watching pictures of people chosen from their group being projected into computer-generated backgrounds. Frank grabbed the tour guide's arm.

"Where's Callie?" he whispered.

Confused, she replied, "Who?"

"The girl I came with," he snapped impatiently. "She's supposed to be here."

The tour guide gazed across the crowd and pointed toward an open door at the far end of the hall. "She was over there just a minute ago. I have to ask you not to leave the tour again. If there's any problem — "

Before she could finish, Frank hurried out the door. It opened onto a small green lawn lined with food stands. Frank turned in circles, surveying the area, but Callie was nowhere.

"Callie," he called out. There was no answer. "Callie!"

"Frank," Joe said. He stopped by a waste basket, pulled out a videocassette, and held it up for Frank to see.

Frank's heart sank. "She would never have given that up unless she — unless she — "

He couldn't bring himself to say it. Callie was gone.

"HEY!" A MAN in a work suit shouted. "You can't go in there!"

Callie Shaw ignored the warning. Her lungs burned and her legs ached from running, and she needed a place to rest. From the moment she had seen Patch, dressed all in black except for his head, she had been on the move, racing from set to set in Meteor Town.

The sign on the barricade said Out of Order. No Admittance. Recklessly, Callie climbed over the gate, rolled onto the ground, and looked behind her to see if the man decided to pursue her. She was safe. And there was no sign of Patch.

She relaxed and sat with her back to the gate.

Would anyone find the tape, she wondered. Even if Patch caught her, she suspected, he wouldn't kill her until he knew where it was. If she escaped, chances were she could collect it before anyone noticed it was there. In the meantime she had time to think. Had Patch run into Frank and Joe? If so, what had he done with them?

Just then a black-gloved hand clapped onto her shoulder through the chain-link gate, and Callie screamed. "Callie," Patch whispered triumphantly. "Come out and play." His fingers dug into her skin.

She drove her fingernails into the back of Patch's hand. He snapped it away, and Callie was on her feet, running again. She didn't need to look to know Patch would quickly be over the fence and on her trail.

Think, she told herself as she ran for her life. What would Frank and Joe do?

She came to the top of a hill. Below were the tracks for the tourist trains. She scampered toward them. Eventually, the tracks would loop back to the exit, showing her the way out.

All I have to do, she told herself, is stay ahead of Patch until I get there. Easy to think, she knew from experience, but harder to do.

The tracks led into the set of a small town. To her left Callie saw a library, and to her right a town hall with a bell tower on top. The streets were lined with stores: a five-and-dime, a pharmacy, a grocer's at the end of the block. Quickly, she dashed across the square and up the steps of the town hall.

No one here but us, Callie," Patch called menacingly as he entered the square. Callie hurled herself through the entrance to the town · hall and slammed the door behind her.

The ground slid out from under her, and she dropped six feet to a rough landing in the dirt. As she sat up and brushed herself off, she looked up to see that the building was only a false front. It looked solid and real, but in reality it was as false as her hopes of safety were.

"Could have told you, Callie," Patch said as he rounded the far end of the line of buildings. "I've been in Meteor Town lots of times. I know where everything is." He laughed, and the sound rang brutally in Callie's ears. She cupped her hands over them to blot it out, and ran.

The tracks led to a waterfall and disappeared into it. Dead end, Callie thought. She looked back to see Patch closing in on her. She was trapped.

Then she remembered the wall of rock the train had gone through on the tour. If that was an illusion, what was the waterfall? Crossing her fingers, she plunged forward.

The icy water struck her, and she let out a yell of astonishment. Water poured down from sprinkler pipes over the entrance. The waterfall was real enough, another trick to surprise the tourists with. She slogged out of the water and into the darkness of a tunnel that backed up to the falls. The tracks were almost invisible in the gloom. She tapped them with her foot as she stumbled along. The tracks curved to the left. Callie followed them.

She froze.

Ahead, from a hole in the ceiling, light poured in. The ceiling had collapsed, and rubble, piled from floor to ceiling, covered the tracks and blocked the tunnel. Desperately, Callie dug into the pile, but it was too big. She wouldn't be able to dig a way through before Patch caught up with her, and he barred the way back.

This time, she knew, she was trapped.