Ducking the blow, Joe struck out blindly. Hearing a grunt of pain, he knew his fist had made contact. Alerted to Joe's presence by the scuffle, the man by the tree joined in the fray.
Grabbing Joe in a headlock, he brought Joe to his knees and exerted pressure. Joe gave a strangled cry for help as a knee from the other assailant came crashing into his stomach. About to lose consciousness, Joe heard the distant wail of a siren.
His assailants, also hearing the approaching siren, released him and took off running, joined by Frank's attacker. After slowly rising to his feet, Joe staggered over to where Frank lay face down. He grabbed Frank's shoulder and gently shook it. Receiving no response, he shook a little harder.
"Easy," Frank said with a moan. He opened his eyes and was immediately assaulted by a stab of pain. Raising up on one elbow, he touched the side of his head. "Ouch!" he winced, making contact with his wound.
"Are you okay?" Joe asked with concern.
"I will be just as soon as we catch these guys," Frank vowed with a look of retribution.
"Freeze!" came a command with a familiar ring from out of the darkness. "Police!"
Joe grinned wryly at Frank then shouted, "Relax! It's only us."
"What are you two doing here?" Con demanded as he came over to where the boys were now standing. He was followed by two other officers. "We got a call about an attempted break-in."
"We saw a guy trying to climb in this window," Frank told him, indicating the window behind him. "We split up and he nailed me. What happened to you?" he asked Joe, suddenly remembering his earlier shout for help.
"I got ambushed by his two pals," Joe responded with a grimace.
"Did either of you get a good look at these guys?" Con asked them.
Frank admitted his foe was Conner. "And those two I grappled with were definitely two of the ones who kidnapped me," Joe added when Frank had finished.
"Are those the burglars?" broke in a crackly voice. Everyone turned to look at the woman who had come from the front of the building. She was small and plump with gray hair out-lining her pale face.
"Not exactly," Con answered her. "These two tried to stop the men who were trying to break into the premises."
"Oh, the Hardy brothers," she said with relief, getting a closer look at them. "I'm so glad you boys made it."
"You were expecting us?" Frank asked, perturbed.
"Since last week," she answered him with a smile.
"Excuse me," Joe said, recognizing the lady from the picture on Kurtz' desk. "I just met your brother Saturday."
"Sammy and I were talking about you boys early last week." Looking pointedly at the police she added, "But we'll talk more about that in a bit."
"I'll have a patrol car out here every hour for the rest of the night," Con offered, taking the hint.
"No sense in it," Ms. Kurtz told him crisply. "Those fiends won't be back now that Frank and Joe are here."
"But they won't be staying the night," Con stated.
"I know that!" she snapped at him, her green eyes flashing. "I may be a few decades older than you young man, but all of my senses are still intact."
"Yes'em," Con responded, swallowing nervously at being reprimanded like a schoolboy. "I just meant..." he began.
"Go away," she ordered, interrupting him. She held up her hand and waved him away. "The boys and I have some talking to do and it's not getting any earlier."
Frank and Joe followed her inside as the police drove away. "Now then," she said as the boys seated themselves on the sofa in the living room. "I'll get us all a drink and we can talk. Do you prefer coffee or soda?"
"Soda is fine," Frank answered for both of them. "Thank you."
When she returned a few minutes later she carried a tray on which were three sodas and a letter.
"Ms. Kurtz, why were you expecting us?" Joe asked as she sat down.
"Because of the chemical spill, of course," she told him, frowning at him as though she doubted his intelligence.
"Could you tell us about the spill?" Frank asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"Sammy worked at Dawson Chemical for years," she informed them. "He never had any problems when Larry Dawson was running the place, but when his brother took over a lot began to go wrong."
"Like what?"
"Little things at first," she answered. "Valves that were replaced by more faulty valves, packaging that disintegrated things of that nature. At first, Sammy thought Charles had merely switched to cheaper products in order to save money. But then other things started to go wrong. The fires you all ready know about, but there were also shortages in the inventory and mis-labeled products."
"What do these things have to do with a spill?" Joe asked, wishing she would get to the point.
"Sammy wasn't sure," she said, sighing and leaning back in her chair, looking older than she had outside. "He was going to see you two last Friday before his business trip." She smiled faintly at them before continuing, "We had read about your remarkable talent in the Bayport Times. Sammy figured if anyone could get to the bottom of this mystery, you two could."
"When was the last time you talked to your brother?" Frank asked.
"Friday morning," she replied. "He called me from the office and said he had overheard a conversation in Dawson's office."
"Did he mention what the conversation was about?"
"He said they were talking about a spill and it wouldn't be suspect because of all the other things which were going wrong."
"A chemical spill wouldn't be suspicious?" Frank asked incredulously as Joe nodded, knowingly. Frank looked askance at him.
"They've all ready had the warehouse fires, as well as minor stuff going wrong at the plant for some time. There would be an investigation into the spill but..." Joe broke off his explanation as Frank took over.
"But not into the cause behind it," Frank finished for him, his eyes twinkling in comprehension.
"What?" Ms. Kurtz asked, confused.
"The spill would be a cover up for something else," Joe said. "Because of the other things going wrong, it would probably be deemed an accident."
"To cover up for what?" she asked, seemingly in awe by what she was hearing.
"That's what we have to find out," Frank replied, then frowned. "Do you have any idea when this spill is supposed to take place?" he asked.
"No, I'm afraid not," she answered with a shake of her head. "I've told you all I know, which isn't much. Sammy felt if I knew more then my life would be in danger. However, he did tell me that if something were to happen to him then I should give this to you boys." She picked up the letter from the tray and handed it to Frank. "This is what I believe those men were after," she added.
He took the letter but did not open it. Instead, he rose and motioned for Joe to do likewise. "We'll do our best to get to the bottom of this," he promised.
"I know you will," she replied, smiling a bit sadly. Rising, she led the boys to the door and wished them well.
Back in the van, Joe took the wheel and Frank pulled out a penlight and opened the letter. Knowing his brother was just as curious as he, he read it out loud.
"Should you have this letter then things have progressed even further than I at first believed they might. By now you will have learned from my sister about the happenings at Dawson Chemical. However, there is much more I haven't told her for fear she would be in danger.
It is my belief that Charles Dawson was responsible for his brother's death. Charles had Larry killed because of something which is to happen within the next few weeks.
There is an airshaft in the closet in my office which links to Charles' office. While hanging up my coat one morning, I overheard part of a conversation which helped to explain some of the "accidents" at the plant.
Charles told his guest the fires were well-planned and no one would question the death. What he meant by this last remark, I am unsure. However, talk of a forthcoming spill was obvious.
Since all I had to date is what I have heard and learned from personally checking supplies, it would have been my word against his. Not enough to stop him.
It was my intention to have spoken with you as soon as possible. I am confident that if anyone can clear up this affair, then it will be the Hardy brothers.
Apart from his signature, that's it," Frank ended with a thoughtful frown. "Con told us Charles was in California when Larry was killed."
"Yeah, so?" Joe asked.
"How could he have been responsible for Larry's death? It was an auto accident."
"He could have caught a private jet or hired someone to do it, or any number of other ways," Joe answered, glancing at Frank. "Shouldn't you be more concerned about the forthcoming spill and the death that was mentioned?"
"Actually, I know a lot about it all ready," Frank told him, grinning.
"How?" Joe demanded in surprise.
"I know approximately what day the spill is planned for and I am pretty sure as to whom the target is. I just don't understand why Dawson would be mixed up in the plan."
"How?" Joe repeated his earlier question.
"You know too," Frank told an increasingly infuriated Joe.
"How would I know?" Joe asked, glaring at Frank who was openly laughing now.
"Think about it little brother," Frank instructed. "Who do we know is making a special trip to Bayport and requires strict security because he has been receiving death threats?"
"Prince Rashid," Joe answered with a grin that quickly turned into a frown. "But if he's the target, then so is Dad!"
Frank nodded, a worried look on his face. "We've got to warn him."
"There's still something I don't understand," Joe began, then stopped talking as he lowered his visor and gently applied the brakes.
"What's with this guy?" Frank asked angrily, squinting into the glare of the oncoming lights.
"Whatever it is, he better get over it quickly," Joe grunted as he pushed a little harder on the brakes and took the van as far over to the right as he could.
"He's coming on our side!" Frank shouted as the truck came straight at them.
Tired of playing cat and mouse on the lonely stretch of highway, Joe took his foot off the brakes and hit the gas. "You want to play chicken?" he asked the truck.
"What are you doing?" Frank screamed at Joe as he sped head on at the truck which was almost upon them.
