No Way Out (6 page)

Frank pulled Khayyam to a stop and tumbled from the saddle as an explosion of whistles and yells burst from the stands. He raced toward the fallen piper, kicking the man's lance away from the action.

The piper rolled his body into a standing position, but he seemed unsteady as he wiped the dirt off his arms and legs. Then he appeared to get his bearings again as he looked at Frank. His glare drilled into Frank's eyes.

“Bruce David MacLaren!” Alan yelled, stomping up behind Frank. Joe and Ray joined them from the sidelines. “Get off my property. You're not welcome here!”

“You'll not tell me what to do,” MacLaren bellowed. His bushy auburn beard bristled as he spoke.

“I will on my own property,” Alan thundered back. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

“It's amazing how much these old costumes can hide, isn't it?” MacLaren said with a sneer. “They make a perfect disguise.”

As Frank watched the two men, Shorty pulled up in an all-terrain vehicle. Next to him sat one of the security guards Alan had hired for the tournament.

“Well, your cover is blown now, and you're not welcome on my land!” Alan repeated. “Ever! You're through making trouble for me and my family.”

Alan turned to the ATV. “Shorty, get him out of here,” he ordered.

MacLaren took a step forward. Then he looked from Alan to Frank and back to Alan. He backed up and glared for a few more seconds. “This is not over, Chezleigh Alan Horton,” he finally snarled. “I know it … and you know it too.” Then he spat on the ground as a final insult and stomped away toward the exit.

Alan nodded to Shorty, and the trainer guided the vehicle slowly behind MacLaren as he marched across the field. The spectators booed and yelled at the man being thrown out of the party. MacLaren pumped his fist at the crowd in a dramatic gesture of defiance.

“We'll take the horses back to the pen,” Frank offered. “They need cooling down.” Alan nodded to them with a grim half smile. Then he waved to the crowd and walked to the microphone.

As the Hardys and Ray walked Abiyad and Khayyam off the field, Alan assured the crowd that the excitement had only just begun. “Just a little preview of the thrills in store for us all,” he said. “Didn't I tell you this tournament would be fantastic?' The crowd responded with more cheers and whistles.

“Dad's great, isn't he?” Ray said as he walked with the Hardys. “Nothing seems to get him down for long.” In spite of his friend's positive words, Frank could see that he was worried.

“He's totally cool,” Joe agreed. “But what's the story behind this MacLaren jerk? Obviously you guys have had problems with him before. Is he another Mazemaster competitor?”

“No, but he's been trying to get my dad in trouble for years,” Ray said. “Dad has this fantastic collection of medieval paraphernalia and artifacts, and MacLaren's jealous, that's all. Plus, he's accused Dad of purchasing some of the pieces from unscrupulous dealers.”

“Meaning that the sellers were selling stolen goods?” Frank guessed.

“That's what MacLaren claimed,” Ray acknowledged. “He says the pieces were stolen from museums and private owners and then sold to Dad and other collectors.”

“And he thinks your dad knows the stuff is stolen property?”

“Yes,” Ray admitted. “But it's not true, of course. My dad has always sworn that every purchase has been legal by international law and by the laws of each item's original country.”

“He should be able to prove that if anyone has any doubt,” Joe pointed out.

“And he can,” Ray said. “He's got full documentation on everything.”

“That should be enough to satisfy MacLaren,” Frank said. “What's his problem?”

“He claims the documents and receipts are all
fake,” Ray answered. “His father used to make the same claims against my grandfather. Bruce MacLaren insists that our family is responsible for removing historical artifacts from his country, chiefly from his family. But the real truth is that MacLaren's ancestors were thieves and pirates. Nearly everything they ever had of value was stolen by them to begin with. In the last century, a lot of their stuff was sold off to pay attorney fees to keep them out of prison and to pay off gambling debts. Bruce MacLaren himself has quite a reputation around the casinos of Europe.”

“Sounds like the bad blood between your family and MacLaren goes back for quite a while,” Joe commented.

“Yeah, but we can handle it,” Ray said, his jaw so tight that Joe could see a muscle tremor. “He sued us last year, but the judge threw out the case.”

As they neared the pen, Frank spotted the bagpipe. He felt a twinge in his hip as he remembered leaping out of Abiyad's path. He reached down and picked up the instrument. As he examined it, he told Joe and Ray about chasing after MacLaren earlier.

“One of these pipes is cracked,” he said, looking at the bagpipe. “No big surprise. Hmmm, look at this.” He wet his thumb and rubbed the side of the mouthpipe.

Joe and Ray looked closely at the place Frank
pointed to. “It's a
B
,” Ray said, “in Old English script, like the one on the arrow shaft you found.”

Frank rubbed off more of the wet dirt that had packed against the mouthpipe. “Here's a
D
and an
M
,” he said.

“Bruce David MacLaren,” Ray said.

“Looks like it's definitely his,” Joe agreed. “Bagpipes are expensive—and musicians are usually so careful with their instruments. It's pretty amazing that he'd just throw it away like that.”

“Yeah,” Ray said, nodding. “And this is the guy who's supposed to be so interested in preserving artifacts and family treasures. I told you he's a liar. I can't believe he was able to get in here. And I wonder what happened to the piper we hired.”

“We'd better check that out,” Joe said. “MacLaren seems pretty vicious. No telling what he might have done to keep the regular piper off the field.”

“Could MacLaren have been the guy you saw running into the woods after the flaming arrow hit its mark, Joe?” Frank asked.

“It's hard to say exactly, because he was so far away, but he could have been,” Joe answered. “He's about the same size.”

“Does your dad still have the arrow shaft?” Frank asked Ray. “I'd like to have Officer Chester see it.”

“I saw him put it in his desk in the library,” Ray answered. “We can check it out when we get back to the house.”

“So far, MacLaren has gone after your father through the legal system. But that scene on the field was different.”

“Frank's right, Ray,” Joe said. “It might have all been an act, but it looked like he was going after your folks with that lance. Who knows what might have happened if Frank hadn't stopped him.”

“And shooting fire over a crowd of people was a really risky move,” Frank pointed out. “If Bruce MacLaren was the archer, the dispute between him and your dad may have escalated to a new and dangerous level.”

After Abiyad had rested, Frank and Joe entered the jousting competition. A natural athlete and a practiced horseman, Joe got better with each heat, ultimately eliminating everyone else and taking home the prize for his division of amateur jousters.

Riding Khayyam, Frank came in fourth, so dinner that evening with their hosts and the other winners was a celebration. Joe's prize was an authentic burgonet, a lightweight steel helmet once worn by Scottish highlanders. One of the most popular helmets of the sixteenth century, it had a long, wide visor but was very open in front, offering plenty of fresh air for the long rides. Frank won a leather belt with a dragonhead buckle.

After dinner, Alan and Ray went to the maze to
oversee the repairs, and Penny and Kay ran the evening games in the stadium.

Frank and Joe divided their time between being spectators and investigators. They split up and canvassed all the vendors for news of Vincenzo Black-stone. Several said they wouldn't be surprised to find out that he was on the island, but no one admitted to actually seeing him.

Frank also checked with Shorty, who reported that the original piper had shown up claiming to have been knocked out and tied up by someone. “Frankly, I don't believe him,” Shorty confided. “I've got a feeling he was paid off by MacLaren to stay out of the way.”

Joe checked in with Skip Jennin at the film studio, who said the Hardys could come in any time on Sunday and view all the footage they wanted.

When the Hardys finally hit the sheets that night, they agreed that they knew more than they had the night before. But their investigation had rustled up a new twist—in the shape of a redheaded piper.

“Joe! Frank! Wake up!” Kay's frantic voice jolted Joe to an instant alert. He sat straight up in his bed and shook the Saturday night sleep out of his brain.

“Joe!” Kay's voice called again from the other side of the door. “Oh, please wake up.” The sound
of a pounding fist against the old wooden door got him out of bed.

“Coming,” he called back. “Just a minute.” He pulled on his jeans and headed for the door, punching Frank's shoulder along the way. “Let's go, Frank. It sounds like trouble.”

When Joe opened the door, Kay was already in the middle of a sentence.

“—and then we finally realized,” she said. Her voice was loud and her words were fast. “We can't figure out what happened! There's nothing, no clue. You've got to help us!”

“Slow down,” Frank said gently as he joined Joe at the door. “Of course we'll help. What happened?”

“It's Dad,” Kay said. Her glance darted from Joe to Frank and back to Joe again. Her voice was suddenly soft and shaky, as if she were trying to swallow her words. “He's disappeared!”

“You don't know where your dad is?” Joe asked. “Have you checked the maze? the stables? that secret study upstairs?”

“No, it's not like that,” Kay insisted. “He's really gone. I'm afraid something's happened to him. I just know it. Come downstairs—Mom and Ray are in the sunroom.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “Let us get cleaned up. We'll be down in a minute.”

The Hardys cleaned up, pulled on fresh jeans and sweaters, and were in the sunroom in minutes.

“Hey man, thanks,” Ray said, clapping Frank on the back as he walked in. “This is really serious. I'm glad you guys are here.”

“We are too,” Frank assured him. “Okay, what's going on?”

“Mom, tell them about last night,” Kay urged.

‘Well, I got a headache during the last jousting match and came back to the house early,” Penny said. She rubbed her head while she talked, and her hand trembled.

“I had some tea and toast, took some medicine, and went to bed,” Penny continued. “I didn't hear any of you come in—I was really out, I guess.” She got up and walked over to the window. The sun shot long streaks of warm light across the marble floor.

‘When I woke up this morning, I realized that Alan had never come into the room during the night,” she concluded, turning back away from the window. “His side of the bed was undisturbed. The clothes he'd worn last night were missing. His wallet and cell phone were not on the dresser—but he always puts them there when he goes to bed.”

Penny looked at the twins. “He's gone,” she said simply. “Just gone. I've called his cell phone a dozen times and always get the voice mail. I've left a message each time, but he hasn't called back.”

“But that doesn't necessarily mean something's happened to him,” Frank said. He tried to keep his voice calm and assuring. Penny looked as if she was barely controlling her feelings and might break down any minute.

“Isn't it possible that he's just working somewhere on the grounds and forgot to check in?” Joe asked. “Maybe he left his cell phone off and just hasn't picked up the messages yet. He's doing everything he can to get the maze opening back on schedule. Maybe he started working out there and didn't feel like stopping.”

“That's the first place I looked,” Ray said. “He's not there, and there's no sign that he was there last night.”

“There's a half-eaten sandwich in here,” Kay said. She led the others into the kitchen and showed them the plate on the extra-long wooden table that ran down the center of the huge room. “And this is his mug—there's some coffee still in it. But I don't know whether it's from last night or this morning.”

‘We've called all over the estate,” Ray told the Hardys. “Shorty's apartment is above the stables. He said Dad wasn't out there last night, and the horses are all accounted for.”

“None of the security people saw him,” Kay said.

“We've got fifteen vehicles altogether,” Ray added. “Three cars, three trucks, two tractors, four golf carts, one motorcycle, and two ATVs. They're all here, all parked where they should be.”

“We've got lots of bikes, and they're all out there too,” Kay pointed out.

“The scary thing is that there's no note, no phone
call,” Penny said quietly. She poured coffee for everyone and passed around a tin of raisin scones. “He always calls or leaves a note if he's going to be late or gets tied up somewhere,” she added.

Frank took a swig of hot coffee. “Okay,” he said. “He's out there somewhere. Let's find him. Penny, you take another look through the maze. No offense, Ray, but it pays to double-check each place. Kay, go over everything. Look for new damage, any branches that have been broken since the mess from the night before last.”

“And check the security shed,” Joe told them. “See if everything looks normal there. If someone got in the maze last night, he or she would have to disarm the security system.”

“Okay,” Kay said. “What are you guys going to do?”

“We'll check around the estate again and make some calls to people in the village,” Frank answered. “Is there a landscaper we can call, for instance? Where would your dad go to get replacement hedges for the maze? We can also check with taxi services. We'll call the police, too, and see if your dad's reported anything about his confrontation with Bruce MacLaren.”