CHAPTER II
Safe House
Frank and Joe were surprised how calmly their mother instructed them to the location of the safe house. They rode in the boys' convertible towards the town of Gresham, a few miles out of Bayport. Readers of What Happened at Midnight will recall the pivotal role that strange place played. Gresham was an old farming village, with traces of its past still visible in picturesque barns and fields. By now, though, it was mostly a ghost town.
"Perfect for a safe house," Joe muttered as he followed his mother's directions off the main road and down an uneven dirt path. There, behind overgrown brush was an abandoned ranch style farmhouse.
"How long have you and Dad known about this place, Mother?" Frank asked in wonderment.
"It was property on my maternal side, son," Mrs. Hardy replied. "Your father thought we should keep it for such emergencies as now."
Inside, the house was furnished with a modern refrigerator, hot plate, furniture, radio and television set.
"Boys, please park the car in the old barn out back. I'm going to dust up here."
Frank unlocked the enormous creaking barn doors as Joe slowly drove the small convertible up the thick ramp made of earth and dirt, once used for moving horses in and out of the barn.
When Frank ignited the lantern, the young sleuths whistled at the sight before them. A bay of the most up-to-date electronics was arranged, replete with a short-wave radio, telex machine, telephone, reel-to-reel audio recording system, television, film projector, and large projector screen.
The boys gaped as they walked further into the barn, passing a six foot by ten foot map of the United States.
"An electron microscope, Frank!" Joe marveled. "And is that a ballistics analysis console, too?" Joe noticed Frank poring over a machine. "What's that?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Frank said bemused.
"That's a DNA spectrophotometer, boys," a voice said from behind.
"Sam Radley!" they called in unison.
"I'm sorry we're not seeing each other under better circumstances," Sam said, shaking their hands grimly. Radley often assisted Fenton Hardy on private investigations. "Your father was planning to unveil this setup when you graduated from Bayport High," he added.
"We got this from Dad," Frank said, handing Radley the telex sheet.
Radley nodded. "Yes, it's a doomsday scenario, I'm afraid."
"Did Dad see the attack on the president?" Joe asked anxiously.
"I'm not sure, Joe," Radley responded. "We're in a bit of a waiting game. You see, your father had been tracking the alleged suspect for several months."
"This Oswald fellow?" Frank asked.
"That's right," Radley replied. "A strange character, but someone who got mixed up with the wrong people at the wrong place and time."
"Who's behind all of this?" Joe queried.
Radley shook his head. "That is the million dollar question." Radley paused. "I'm not sure how much I can divulge to you."
"Sam, we understand. If there's anything—" Frank stopped himself as the telex machine alert buzzed. The three hastened over to the device as it printed out a strip of text.
Joe read it aloud. "Officer down in DAL. LHO implicated. LHO innocent of all charges. Proceeding to Galveston. Stay alert. FH."
The boys looked at Radley. "Why is this Oswald being set up? And by whom?"
Radley shook his head slowly. "It's hard to say. Listen, fellows: your father is in real danger."
"How do you mean, Sam?" Frank asked.
For the next several minutes, Sam Radley described Fenton's work the last few months. "This all started when we received an anonymous tip from an informant for the Miami police department. Your father knows the detective there, Detective Kaye. This informant had sensitive information that a plot was underway to assassinate the president."
Frank and Joe exchanged a long glance. "Whatever for?" Joe asked finally.
"We don't exactly now. Things started moving quickly. Your father was spending a lot of time in the South. I was traveling back and forth from Miami to out west, tracking an arms route along old Route 66," Radley explained.
"We didn't know any of this," Frank said, astonished.
"Your father wanted to keep it that way. He thought he might be able to foil the plot." Sam paused. "The problem is, we don't know who we can trust."
Frank looked at Joe. "Blind eye and ear." Joe nodded. "Even the FBI?" Frank asked.
Radley nodded. "Our normal contacts went mum awhile ago. Something was in the air. The only one who didn't seem to care was the president himself. He is…he was…a very confident individual."
The three then talked about the supposed manner in which the president was shot. Evidently, according to Radley, Oswald was lying in wait in a cocooned sniper's nest on the sixth floor of the office building where he worked, along the president's motorcade route. He fired three shots, hitting both the president and Texas governor, who was still alive but wounded.
Oswald then casually left the premises, took a bus to a boarding house nearby, changed his shirt, and a few minutes later shot and killed a Dallas police officer. The suspect now of two murders fled to a moviehouse, where he was promptly arrested.
"This is not what happened?" Frank asked.
Radley was pensive. "This is likely the template that will be sold to the public, Frank. It does not mean it is true."
"Good night," Joe said. "What is happening?"
"I'll need to check in with one of our contacts in Texas," Radley said. "I'll come over to the house shortly."
The boys complied and attended to their mother, who was already fixing up a snack of cheeses, crackers, grapes and lemonade for the boys and Sam Radley. As the boys ate in the kitchen, the television news broadcasted reports out of Dallas. However,following orders from Mr. Hardy to avoid the news media, the audio was on low.
Jus then the house doorbell rang. Frank and Joe stopped chewing. "Is it Sam?" Joe asked.
"He's still out back," Frank answered, standing up.
"Shall I answer it?" Joe asked.
"I will," Frank said, as he slowly approached the front door. Joe tiptoed to behind a curtain, poised to strike if needed.
"Who's there?" Frank called out in a gruff voice.
A low voice answered on the other side. "Empress 12. Urgent."
Frank and Joe breathed a sigh of relief and managed a grin. They opened the door. Chet Morton stood at the patio holding boxes of pizza pies.
"Boy, you're a sight for sore eyes, Chet," Joe said.
"I come bearing gifts," Morton replied.
As the rotund boy was welcomed in, Mrs. Hardy handed Chet a large glass of lemonade.
"I called the Morton farm and asked if Chet could come out here. I thought you two could use some company."
"And how!" Frank replied, giving his mother a hug.
The short respite of pleasantry was interrupted when Sam Radley entered from the back. His expression was glum.
"What is it, Sam?" Mrs. Hardy asked with concern.
"I just received a memo from our contact in Houston, Ma'am. It seems Fenton has been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?!" everyone exclaimed in unison. Frank and Joe instinctively took their mother's elbows and set her down at the closest chair.
"We have to get to Texas now, Frank!" Joe finally said with determination in his voice.
Frank nodded. Before he could speak, Radley interrupted him.
"There is one other thing you should know," Sam Radley slowly said.
"Yes?" Frank asked.
Radley took a long pause before he locked eyes with Frank. "Your father is one of the conspirators."