Too Many Traitors (6 page)

"We've been set up," Joe said. "And our only hope is to prove that."

"I want to believe you. But I've already spent too much time talking about this." His face hardened. "Now, take out your pistol and throw it down the hill, Frank. Yes, I can see you've got one."

With two fingers Frank pulled the pistol from his pants pocket and cast it away. "We don't want to hurt you," he said.

"That's nice," the Gray Man said. "I'd hate shooting you too."

Joe took a deep breath and charged. Maybe the Gray Man's reluctance would slow down his trigger finger. ... He leapt in, feinting with his left. As the Gray Man slapped Joe's left arm aside, Joe drove a powerhouse right at the Gray Man's stomach.

But before the punch could land, the Gray Man swerved. His elbow hooked down around Joe's wrist, and the Gray Man's hand wrapped around Joe's shoulder. He spun on his heel and jerked forward. With a loud slap Joe slammed facedown into the dirt. The Gray Man had decked him without even using his gun.

Elena screamed and scampered off.

Frank circled slowly around the Gray Man.

Their eyes locked and focused. He's going to beat me, Frank thought as he stared at the look of confidence on the man's face. No, he told himself. He's psyching me out. I'm going to win. I have to win. With a sharp cry Frank hurled himself forward, kicking out at the Gray Man's gun hand.

Once again the Gray Man didn't use his gun. His free hand shot out and cracked into Frank's chest, knocking him backward. Frank landed on his back with a thud.

"Finished?" the Gray Man asked. Angrily, Frank and Joe got to their feet. "Let me put it another way. You are finished." The gun was pointing dead at them. "Prove your innocence when you get home."

"No!" Elena shouted. She stood a few feet away. In her hand was the gun Frank had thrown away. "Get your hands up," she told the Gray Man. "Now!"

The Gray Man dropped his gun and cupped his hands together in back of his head. Joe scooped up the gun, and Frank yanked the camera from around the Gray Man's neck. With Elena keeping the gun aimed, the Hardys led the agent to a tree.

"Sorry we have to do this," Frank said. He pulled the Gray Man's arms back around the tree and tied them with the camera strap.

"We'll have a chance to talk again," the Gray Man called after them as they ran back to their car. "Real soon."

Moments later the car screeched back onto the main road, passing a gray sedan parked at the junction. "The Gray Man's," Frank said. "He's a very slick tail. I was looking, and never knew we were being followed."

"Think he'll be all right up there?" Joe asked. "Maybe we shouldn't have left him tied up."

"Him? He's probably free already," Frank said, rolling his window down. "You know, we're running out of time. We really have to figure this thing out."

"I've been thinking about this mole in the KGB," Joe said, glancing out at the rocky hillside as they rushed past. "Suppose he found out about the exchange? If I were in that guy's shoes, I'd want to stop it."

Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Frank snapped his fingers. "Sure, that makes sense. He could learn a lot by putting himself close to Martin — maybe in disguise."

"Exactly, he could disguise himself as a chauffeur," Joe said. "Yeah, why else would that chauffeur pass a note to us and claim it was from Martin—for that matter, what other reason would he have for going around wearing a false beard and nose? He killed Martin, and he probably got the information everybody seems to think we got."

"Maybe not," Frank said. "This guy didn't take off. He hung around after Martin was dead. Remember the next day? Why would he do that if he had the data? I'm betting our mole doesn't have it yet."

Joe thought about it. "So we can still catch him."

"Right." To Elena in the back seat Frank said, "We're going to head back to our hotel. We'd better split up at that point. You're in this thing too deep as it is."

"Too deep to leave," Elena told him. "The Russians think I betrayed them. If they find me now, they'll — " She shuddered. "No, I'm safer staying with you two."

"We won't let anything happen to you." Joe glanced in the rear-view mirror. A small red car was speeding along on the empty stretch of road behind them. "Frank? I think we might have company," he warned.

After looking in the mirror, Frank frowned. "Yeah, I noticed that car before, right after we left the Soviet consulate. Could be nothing, but then again — "

The red car sped up, zipping suddenly to the left to pass them. Frank glanced at it suspiciously, reaching for one of the pistols.

But a woman he'd never seen before was driving the red compact. Her eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and long dark hair swirled over her face and fell to meet a high collar that covered her neck.

She smiled warmly at Frank, and she raised a cigarette holder with a long cigarette in it to her lips.

Frank relaxed. "Nothing to worry about," he decided.

A thick swirl of smoke spat from the tip of the cigarette and shot across the space between the two cars. The smoke hit Frank in the face.

He coughed, suddenly let go of the wheel, and clutched at his throat with both hands.

The red car was already past them, speeding away.

For an instant Joe stared at his choking brother. "Frank, what's wrong?"

Frank tried to catch his breath but couldn't. "Smoke," he gasped. "Poison — " He fell against the steering wheel of the speeding car. "Woman — KGB — poisoned me — "

From the backseat Elena pointed and screamed.

Joe glanced up through the front windshield and grabbed for the steering wheel.

The road ahead took a sharp curve around a cliff. Far below the road was a stretch of bright blue sea. If Joe didn't get control, they'd be off the road and in the air.

Desperately, Joe tried to steer the careening Audi.

The car swerved wildly across the road. Its motion threw the unconscious Frank against his brother.

Joe lost his grip on the wheel.

Right in front of them now was a low wooden rail. The car was rushing straight at it.

The rail was all that stood between them and the long drop to the rocky beach.

JOE SHOVED AGAINST his brother's unconscious body and got one hand on the steering wheel.

He gave it a sharp twist and with his other hand yanked at the emergency brake.

The Audi rattled, shuddered, and scraped against the wooden railing. Then it groaned and jerked to a stop, just inches from the edge.

Joe jumped out and glanced down the road as he hurried around the front of the car. "There's a truck blocking the road down there — holding up that red car. We can still catch her."

He ran to the driver's side, opened the door, and tugged Frank out from behind the wheel.

"I'm going to put him in the back, Elena. You drive," he told her.

A moment later they were off.

The road ahead was clear again, and the red car was growing ever smaller in the distance.

Elena slammed the gas pedal to the floor. "We should take him to the hospital," she suggested. "He may be dying."

"I'm sure he is," Joe said in a low voice. "But if he was right about that woman being a KGB assassin, a hospital won't help him. By the time they find what poisoned him, he'll be dead. No, our only hope is to catch up to the assassin."

They were reaching more heavily traveled roads now. The red car moved slower, but even so, the distance between it and the Audi kept growing.

"She is losing us," Elena cried. "How can she help your brother?"

"When KGB assassins use poison, they always carry an antidote, in case they should accidentally poison themselves," Joe replied grimly. "She's got it, and it's the only thing that will save Frank."

The street widened into a boulevard, with a grassy strip between the two sides of the road. The red car was still in view, far ahead. "You are a spy!" Elena said to Joe. "How else could you know so much about the KGB?"

Joe chuckled in spite of himself. "We're not spies, Elena, just ordinary Americans. There are plenty of books published about the KGB and how they operate. I've read one or two of them."

His smile faded as the red car vanished from sight, and he looked at his brother.

Frank was still breathing, but in a shallow, uneven way. His skin was tinged with blue. "He's suffocating." Joe's fists clenched as he looked for the red car. But it was gone. "We've failed." "Not yet!" Elena said, determined. She spun the steering wheel left and hit the gas again. The Audi bounced on the low curb and sped onto the boulevard's center strip. The Hardy's car skidded wildly on the grass, its tail swaying back and forth, but Elena gripped the wheel and kept control.

They sped along the center strip, passing the traffic clogging the road, tearing through shrubs and flower beds. The red car came back into view—still far ahead. Joe bent forward in his seat. "Go," he urged Elena, and she sped even faster. Frank's life was in Elena's hands.

"Look out!" Joe shouted suddenly. Elena took her eyes off the red car and saw a clump of trees dead ahead, covering the width of the center strip. There was no way through it, and no time to stop. Elena slammed her foot on the brake and froze. Barely slowing, the car hurtled on toward the trees.

Joe reached over, spinning the steering wheel. The car swerved left, ran off the median, and sped headlong into the oncoming traffic. Cars ran off the road to avoid the Audi, and horns blared as it zipped past them. Elena stared straight ahead, her hands still gripping the wheel.

"Snap out of it!" Joe barked. "Frank needs you." At the sound of his voice Elena shook as if waking from a dream. With a gasp she slammed the brake and turned the wheel, and, tires screaming, the Audi pulled back onto the median, on the other side of the trees.

"The red car," she said, pointing to a compact on the right side of the median. Joe saw the dark-haired woman in it and smiled without humor.

"She's slowed down," he said. "She must think she lost us. Is she in for a surprise!"

The Audi jumped off the median and swung into traffic, sideswiping the red car. The woman looked up, startled, her face still obscured by sunglasses and wisps of black hair. But her lips tightened in anger as she saw Joe's face, and she aimed the cigarette holder toward him.

"Hit her again," Joe ordered, and Elena rammed the Audi into the red car a second time. The cigarette holder tumbled from the woman's fingers in the impact. It hung in midair for a second as she desperately grabbed for it. She missed. The holder fell out the car window and shattered on the ground, spewing glass pellets which broke and gave off wisps of poisoned smoke. In trying to catch the holder, the woman let go of her steering wheel.

The little red car screamed across the lanes and smashed into a storefront, scattering fruit and vegetables all over the street. As the Audi pulled to a stop behind it, Joe looked at Elena admiringly. "Where'd you learn to drive like that?" he asked.

"American television," she replied. Then her eyes widened as the woman scrambled from the red car. "She's getting away!" Elena shouted.

"Not if I can help it," Joe replied. "Stay here with Frank." He leapt from the Audi and ran after the woman, who sprinted down the line of stores.

Joe closed in. The woman turned into the nearest alley and vanished from sight for a moment, but Joe wasn't worried. He knew she couldn't outrun him. He rounded the corner—and stopped.

The woman was gone.

It's not possible, he thought. The alley ended at a brick wall, and there was no way over it. Cautiously, Joe tried the doors on the alley. None opened. The woman couldn't have escaped.

Finally, he tried a pair of old wooden doors set into the ground. They swung up to reveal wooden steps and a dark basement below. He listened. From deep in the darkness came a muffled panting.

The woman was there.

He slowly moved down into the pitch-black of the basement. There was no sound now. Two steps, and no sign of the woman. Three steps.

Strong hands grabbed his ankle, tugged, and Joe pitched down the last stairs. He rolled, landing faceup, and in the dim light he caught the faint gleam of a small revolver aimed at him.

"You will not live to blackmail me," came a gritted whisper from the dark. "You, your brother, Martin—you should never have played games with me." A finger tightened on the trigger.

Joe kicked fiercely and knocked the gun into the air as the shot rang out. He did a backward flip and landed on his feet as the woman started up the steps. Without thinking, Joe lunged at her, grabbing at her purse and her hair. Both tore loose in his grip, and he fell back down the stairs, landing on the basement floor with a thud. The woman vanished into the alley.

Seconds later Joe emerged into the light. He started back to the Audi.

"Quick," Elena said as she saw him. She held Frank, whose breathing had all but stopped. "You got the antidote from the woman?"

Joe opened the purse, rifled through it, and brought out a small clear bottle with Russian lettering on it. "This had better be it," he said, and handed it to Elena, who opened it and forced the contents through Frank's lips.

Frank sputtered and convulsed as the liquid flowed into his mouth. With a great spasm he went limp in Elena's arms.

"He's not breathing," Elena said, terrified. "I think he's dead!"

"Am — not," Frank mumbled, and opened his eyes. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," Joe said, relieved. "You just got poisoned by a KGB agent."

"Joe caught her," Elena said excitedly.

Joe flushed and shook his head. "No, I didn't," he admitted. "And it wasn't a her."

"What?" Frank and Elena said at the same time.

Joe held up the wig. "A disguise. When she spoke, she had a man's voice—also disguised— and she wore men's shoes. I got a pretty good look at them. It was a man disguised as a woman."

"The chauffeur was a disguise too," Frank said. He sat up weakly in the car. "Probably the same person. And that assassination attempt means he's probably a member of Department V."

"Or was," Joe said. "It could have been Vladimir."