Frank, Nancy, and Joe stared at each other for a moment and then with lightning quick reflexes dashed down the stairs to where the explosion came from. They found Jean staring at a mutilated package on the floor.
"What happened?" Joe asked quickly.
Jean shrugged. "This package came in the post and when I opened it up it exploded."
Frank knelt down in front of the remains and sifted through it analyzing it. "The address label was printed, we won't be able to trace that. Probably some sort of flash paper with a slight explosive as well." Frank continued and found a note.
STAY AWAY FROM THE FORT AND ABBEY- IF YOU WANT TO LIVE. . . .
"Well, that's friendly," Nancy commented.
"Look at how it's worded," Joe pointed out. "They don't know where it is either! Only that it's at the fort or the abbey. If we can put some of those clues together we'll be ahead of them."
Just then Felicia walked through the door holding a bag from the market. She looked at the package quizzically. "What happened?"
Jean explained and retold the story he had told the Hardys and Nancy. When he finished Felicia raised an eyebrow. "How. . . interesting."
Nancy shifted uncomfortably. This was strange. "Hey, Frank, Joe, let's go up and see if we can find anything else."
Frank and Joe nodded and proceeded to follow Nancy up the staircase as Felicia called to them that dinner would be ready shortly.
"What do you think that was about?" Frank asked as they walked back into the library.
Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe we've already worn out our welcome, with Felicia at least."
"It's possible," Frank replied as he studied the note they had found. He quickly shifted the topic to the note. "What I want to know, is how the CIA should know that Boswell's guard is dead, or rather, has taken the secret to the grave. I get the impression that this note is addressed to the CIA assuming that they only know sketchy details. Nothing specific, like who operated with him, what their secret codes were and all that."
Nancy nodded. "I think you're on to something. I don't think that Boswell expected the CIA to start out blindly though. They would have known some things. If perhaps only some of the people he worked with, or where to find this clue, something."
"Maybe not," Joe said frowning thoughtfully. "Put yourself in Boswell's shoes. Your death, or perhaps your escape is imminent. You may never return. You have perhaps already hidden the cache earlier. You've sent out clues, codes, signals, to fellow spies and connections on how to find the cache. Stuff that only they would know. Time passes on, things are getting a lot worse in general than expected, but you still have time. Maybe most of your connections have been wiped out. What do you do?"
"He would have to send the clues or location to the Allies," Frank said. "Whatever intelligence there is in France is failing. It's not safe to trust the cache to it anymore."
"Yes," Joe replied. "He would send it to foreign intelligence in a hope that the cache would be recovered. Who would he stretch out to?"
"The American CIA," Nancy replied.
"Bingo," Joe said. "He would leave it to an intelligence agency that perhaps knew of his existence, would come looking for what he had hidden, but did not know enough. They would find his clues though, and the clues would lead them."
"Good point," Frank said. "That means that supposedly we should be able to find it with whatever clues were directed to the CIA. Only one problem, this may not be the only clue."
"So!" Nancy burst out catching on, "Boswell would know that some of the clues would be lost or destroyed. He would make it so that the CIA could find it with only one clue, one piece of evidence. We have two!"
"Exactly." Joe said. "Not only that, the clue should lead to the guard he left behind."
Frank considered it and nodded in agreement. "Which means. . ." he said as he picked up the knife/letter opener, "that this should have something if it's a clue for the CIA." There was a faint pop as a compartment in the handle opened and a piece of paper fell out. Frank picked it up, examined it, and began to laugh.
"What?" Nancy asked.
"It's the same note, just a copy," Frank chuckled.
Nancy looked at the figurine and the knife in turn. "That means that the knife and the figurine should lead to the same place or person." she observed.
"A carver or woodworker maybe," Joe mused. "Maybe an antiques dealer, or an art dealer, or an artist."
"Not antiques Joe," Frank pointed out. "The figurine and knife are only fifty years old. Hardly antiques then."
"I'm afraid that we aren't just going to be able to guess this stuff off the top of our head," Nancy sighed. "These clues were given on the assumption that the majority of Boswell's associates would be hanging around when the CIA came. All they would have to do would be to connect these to one person and voila!"
"Not only that," Joe added. "How old would you be if you were a spy? Twenty five, thirty? Maybe older. Take all the spies' ages, add sixty years to that and you're well above the average mortality rate. Assuming that they died naturally of course."
"So we'll just have to operate assuming that our only possible connection is dead." Frank said, summing it all up.
"I guess so," Nancy said gloomily as they heard Felicia call them for dinner.
********
Frank, Nancy, Joe, Felicia, and Jean hiked up the narrow trail to Fort de Buoux. Felicia motioned over towards the wall and jumble of boulders on the right. "Those are some of the ancient burial tombs. They're carved into solid rock. There's about one hundred stone sarcophagi left. You can see about a dozen of them if you get close enough."
"I don't think we're that interested right now," Joe said as they continued up the narrow trail.
Nancy stepped forward close to Joe. "Maybe there isn't a guardian. Maybe the 'taken to the grave' reference means that Boswell buried some clue or another in one of the tombs."
Joe and Frank shrugged. "If we don't find anything interesting we'll check them out on our way out."
Nancy nodded as they approached the gatehouse. They each paid ten francs for admission to the guard. They then stepped forward and over to the cliff. "What an awesome view." Nancy said in an admiring tone.
Felicia nodded. "I just love this view. When uncle Alfred came to visit while looking for the cache I would often just sit here and admire it. If you don't mind I think I'll just sit down and wait for you guys."
"Why don't I stay with you," Jean suggested in a concerned voice. "This could be dangerous."
Felicia rolled her eyes. "Whatever Jean." She turned to Frank, Nancy and Joe. "I hope you don't mind. Good luck on finding anything though."
The trio left the two siblings and entered the fort. Several tourists were already exploring and looking around. "Do you think that any of these people might be the enemy?" Joe asked in a whisper.
"Probably," Frank replied. "Watch your step."
Joe looked down and stepped over a stone that he had nearly tripped over. "Whoops. . ."
They continued to search the whole grounds over several hours until they had one last place left to explore. "Let's go up into the watchtower," Frank said. "It's the only place we haven't searched so far."
"Sounds good to me," Nancy agreed.
"It's probably there somewhere," Joe said hopefully.
They walked back through the fortress towards where the stone spiral staircase that led to the top began. Their way was blocked however. A man of about seventy years of age was sitting on the third step up and effectively blocking any entrance to the tower. He was fiercely whittling away at a stick.
Frank, Nancy, and Joe gave each other uncomfortable glances. Nancy stepped forward. "Excuse me, but could you possibly just let us past you?"
The old man stopped whittling and looked up at them, glaring. "The past? Yes. . . the past." A faraway look grew in his eyes. "The past. . . history." He stood up abruptly and stalked off muttering about 'the past' to himself.
Frank arched and eyebrow. "What was that about?"
"He's an oddball if I ever saw one." Joe commented as they climbed the tower to find nothing. "It looks like we'll have to look in the abbey tomorrow."
"Oh well, maybe we'll find something there." Nancy said hopefully has they descended to meet with Felicia and Jean.
They found the siblings where they had left them. "Find anything?" Felicia asked.
"I'm afraid not," Joe replied.
"Better luck next time," Jean said smiling as he stood up. "For now, let's go home."
They were just passing the guardhouse when Nancy stopped. "I just want to ask the watchman something. I'll be down in a moment. Go on ahead."
The others nodded and Nancy stopped to talk with the security guard. "Excuse me sir," Nancy said. "Do you happen to know anything about a seventy year old man . . ." she described him to the guard and their incident.
The guard laughed. "That's just Claude. He's harmless."
"What do you know about him?" Nancy inquired.
The guard shrugged. "He's been hanging around longer than I've had this job. He's kind of, well you know. . . a couple of eggs short of a dozen. Usually goes out of his way to avoid tourists."
"Then why was he on the staircase and acting like that?" Nancy asked.
The guard shrugged once again. "I said usually, every once in a while something or another will set him off, make him angry, or scare him. When that happens he goes and sits on the staircase. He's also kind of hard to communicate with, no one knows why though."
"Thank you," Nancy said.
"No problem at all," the guard said waving as Nancy set off down the trail.
She was greeted by Frank who was running up. "Nancy!" he panted, "Joe fell, I think he's hurt!"