Infinity Clue Part 3

"Joe and I have a lot to discuss with the amba.s.sador. If we didn't think you could handle this as well as one of us, we wouldn't ask you to do it."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Chet beamed, and agreed to keep watch in the building.

The three boys returned to Boswell's office. The curator gladly granted Chet permission to stay that evening. He gave them a key to the bas.e.m.e.nt door, which would be locked for the night.

Frank and Joe then left Chet in the museum and met Fritz, who was waiting in his car out front. A short while later, they arrived at the gates of the German Emba.s.sy, which Fritz opened with a remote control switch on his dashboard.

"One of our new security gimmicks since the threats began coming in," he explained.

Inside the elegant emba.s.sy, Amba.s.sador Kriegler greeted Frank and Joe wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. An energetic man, he gripped their hands and shook vigorously.

"Excuse me for the way I am dressed," the amba.s.sador apologized. "I have been in the sauna. Be with you in a few minutes."

Fritz, proud of his Washington home, showed the two visitors around the building. They met Herman, the chef, who was already at work preparing dinner in the kitchen. Simmering pots and saucepans filled the room with delicious smells. Then Fritz took the brothers up a winding staircase to show them his room.

But before they got there, an electronic beeping signal came from a panel in the wall.

"Someone's climbed the fence," Fritz said in an anxiously hushed tone.

"Let's go," Joe commanded, pounding back down the staircase to the front door.

In a few seconds, all three boys were outside scanning the emba.s.sy yard, which was surrounded by a high fence. Upon a quick inspection of the grounds, it was clear that they were free of any intruders.

"Must have been a false alarm," Fritz deduced. "Sometimes a bird or squirrel will trigger the system. It's happened several times already and is becoming a nuisance."

Frank stood in the driveway and took one more look around. He wasn't sure at all that it had been a false alarm. Yet, the intruder clearly wasn't there now. The three youths returned inside.

The first course for dinner was a gourmet fish stew, which the amba.s.sador ladled out into bowls for his guests. Both Frank and Joe hesitated before trying the dish, but once they had tested it, they dug in hungrily.

Frank told Amba.s.sador Kriegler about the day's events, and asked whether he knew anything that might aid in their investigation.

Kriegler frowned thoughtfully. "I'm expecting to hear from your father again soon. When I spoke with him yesterday, he gave me the message for you and promised to call again this evening."

"And he didn't tell you anything more than was in the message?" Frank asked.

"No." Kriegler shook his head. "I know he was on the trail of something. When he called me, he seemed anxious to relay his information and get off the line as quickly as possible. He may have been making the call at some risk of being caught. I guess he thought it was important that you boys get to the museum in time to follow up on his lead."

Kriegler paused and ladled more stew into the sleuth's bowls. A fish head ended up in Joe's, pointing straight up at him. To be polite, Joe pretended not to notice, but he suddenly lost his appet.i.te for the delicious dish.

"As for the albino who seems to be on your trail," the amba.s.sador continued, "he sounds to me like a man known in terrorist circles as the White Rabbit, or Rabbit for short."

Joe snapped his fingers. "Because white rabbits are albino, pink eyes and all."

Kriegler nodded. "Not only that. He is also famous for his agility and quickness. I'm sure you learned that when you tried chasing him."

"What's his business?" Frank inquired.

"He's a bomb expert," the amba.s.sador replied. "He once worked as a mercenary soldier in Europe.

Since then, he's gone underground and hires out as a free-lance saboteur for terrorist organizations."

Kriegler's expression turned grave and he spoke slowly for emphasis. "He's a very dangerous man who takes a fiendish pleasure in inventing different types of bombs, and who has little respect for human life."

Frank and Joe shuddered. "I hope Dad calls tonight," Frank said. "This Rabbit may be part of the gang he's investigating."

Kriegler frowned. "You're right. And the infinity sign may be a trademark of sorts for the Rabbit."

"An emblem suggesting that there's no end to his destruction?" Joe wondered.

"I don't know," the amba.s.sador replied. "I'll check with my government for any further information on him."

Suddenly the same thought crossed Frank's and Joe's minds. Chet was alone in the museum right at this moment, and the Rabbit might be taking the opportunity to try a new bomb out on their best friend!

CHAPTER V.

A Lively Dummy The museum storage room was nearly dark. Only a light at the end of an adjoining corridor enabled Chet to see whether anyone entered through the bas.e.m.e.nt door.

Chet had borrowed an American Indian costume and sat cross-legged in a museum exhibit, pretending to be one of the dummies who were grouped around a fake camp fire in front of a tepee. Earlier, this had seemed like a great idea to Chet, a perfect disguise with a good view of the hallway. But after several hours, the costume was growing uncomfortable and his legs were getting cramped.

"Maybe I'll be a lying-down Indian for a while," he muttered under his breath, and stretched out, putting his head on the lap of one of the dummies.

On the far side of the storage room was an Eskimo, just visible in the dim light coming from the hallway.

Chet suddenly noticed that he seemed to be staring at him!

The young sleuth froze, locking his eyes on the dim figure dressed in sealskins. It moved! Chet screamed silently to himself. But when he strained to see the figure better, he could tell it remained rigid.

This is ridiculous, Chet thought; I'm playing with dummies, and I'm beginning to feel like one myself.

Next to Chet was a fake piece of meat roasting on a spit. It reminded him of how long it had been since they'd had lunch. He wasn't used to missing a meal.

Suddenly, Chet stopped breathing. The bas.e.m.e.nt door at the far end of the hallway opened, then closed gently. He remained motionless as a man approached, wearing a ski mask pulled over his face. The man pa.s.sed the doorway to the storage room and continued down the hall. Then his footsteps could be heard climbing a stairway to the main floor.

Chet breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever that man was, he didn't look friendly enough to tangle with. Chet decided to wait a few minutes, then he would sneak out to call Frank and Joe. But just as he was about to leave the room, the man began to descend the stairs.

Chet quickly resumed his cross-legged position in the Indian exhibit and waited for the night visitor to pa.s.s.

Then an idea sprang into the boy's head. This might be his big chance to capture the intruder! But the thought was quickly smothered when he saw the masked figure approach in the dim light. Why should I risk my neck? he argued silently with himself. It isn't even my case.

Just then the man apparently heard a noise. He ducked into the storage room and crouched behind the door, only a few feet from the Indian display! Chet's mind went into a panic. Should he jump the man and be a hero, or should he play it safe and just watch as Frank had instructed him to do? He tried to screw up his courage to attack the masked intruder. But before he could, he heard more footsteps coming from the end of the hall. They grew louder, then stopped.

All was quiet for what seemed to Chet like an eternity. The masked figure pressed himself against the wall, waiting without a sound. Chet's body ached from the rigid position he had a.s.sumed. He scarcely dared to breathe. Then the footsteps started up again, growing softer as they went back down the hallway.

Now's my chance, Chet thought as the sounds disappeared. But before he could jump up, his stomach let out a low grumble! Startled, the masked figure swung around toward the Indian display.

Grruuup! The boy's tummy betrayed him again.

The man took a step toward him to inspect the dummies. Chet knew he had to do something, or he would be caught! He watched as the masked intruder began to look closely at the figures, touching one after the other. He seemed to be almost as scared as Chet of what would happen.

"Wawawawawawa!" Chet let out a piercing war whoop and sprang to his feet. Then he began dancing like an Indian warrior around the fake fire.

At this, the strange man nearly jumped out of his skin. He shrieked, turned on his heels, and fled from the room. Chet stopped his rantings as the intruder ran down the hall and out the bas.e.m.e.nt door.

A second later, however, another figure appeared at the door to the room. It was a museum guard! "All right, what's going on in here?" he demanded, flipping on the light switch to reveal the young warrior standing amongst the dummies.

"I-I was just-" Chet began, but couldn't find the right words.

"You're coming with me," the guard announced and grabbed Chet by the arm.

An hour later, Frank and Joe arrived at the police station. Still in his Indian costume, Chet sat glumly on a bench in the waiting room.

"I'm glad to see you two guys!" Chet sighed. "I've never felt so stupid in my life!"

"How, Chief Sitting Fool," Joe quipped.

"Ah, cut out the jokes," Chet grumbled, "and let's get out of here."

"You're free to go?" Frank asked.

"Sure. They called Boswell's house and got the whole story. I tried explaining everything to that museum guard before he dragged me here, but he was so gung ho about his job, I couldn't get through to him."

"What about that guy you saw in the museum?" Joe questioned. "Can you describe him at all?"

"Just that he was medium height, medium build. He wasn't the man who attacked us."

"We know who that albino is," Frank explained. He related the amba.s.sador's story as they returned to the red sports car, which Fritz had let them borrow.

"Wow, he sounds too dangerous for me!" Chet remarked with a shiver as he sank into the front seat.

"We also called Sam," Joe spoke up, referring to Sam Radley, a detective who often a.s.sisted Mr. Hardy on cases. "He's going to dig up what he can about Dr. Werner."

"What about your dad? Has he been in touch with the amba.s.sador today?" Chet asked.

"He was supposed to call, but never did," Frank replied, his tone hiding his worry. "Must have been too busy to make it to a phone."

For a while, the three boys rode through the streets of the nation's capital in silence.

"Hey!" Chet blurted as his foot hit something crinkly. He bent down to pull a brown paper bag from beneath the seat. He opened it and his eyes lit up. "It's a can of food, and am I ever hungry!" Then he realized there was no can opener, so he sat back in his seat with a groan.

"Let me see that," Frank said anxiously. He reached over and grabbed the can from Chet. Examining it closely, he found a small figure etched in the bottom of the can. "It's the infinity sign!" he shouted, and instantly hurled the object out the window.

The can rolled into a sewer. A moment later, they heard a m.u.f.fled explosion and saw a flash of flames shoot from the sewer drain.

"That was too close for comfort!" Chet breathed, wild-eyed.

"I bet the Rabbit planted that thing at the emba.s.sy," Joe growled. "He must've got in and out of the premises so fast that we thought the alarm had gone off by accident."

"That man's becoming a real menace," Chet put in, now more angered than stunned. "I wonder how he knew we'd all be in here when the bomb was set to go off."

"He didn't," Frank spoke up. "There must have been a radio controlled detonator that the Rabbit could set off when just the right people were in the car."

When the trio returned to the emba.s.sy, they told their story to Fritz and the amba.s.sador. As a result, Kriegler had several security guards placed around the emba.s.sy.

In the morning, the boys sat down to a continental breakfast, which was no more than a cup of coffee and pastry.

"This isn't much to go on," Chet whispered to Frank and Joe.

"Come with me," Fritz said, noticing the chubby boy's dismay over the light meal. "We'll go out to the kitchen and rustle up some real grub, as you Americans say."

Chet followed Fritz in search of ham and eggs, while the Hardys discussed their plans.

"I'd like to go back to that meeting room the geologists were using," Joe said. "We didn't really have a chance to search it thoroughly yesterday."

"Good idea," Frank agreed. "I also wonder what that masked guy was doing in the museum last night. It certainly wasn't any ordinary business!"

After breakfast, Frank, Joe, and Chet returned to the Smithsonian in Fritz's car, having searched it for bombs before leaving. They unlocked the bas.e.m.e.nt door with the key the curator had given Chet, and returned to the geologists' meeting room. No papers were left lying around, and the wastebasket was clean.

Frank went to the blackboard. It had been erased, but a few faint lines were still visible. He studied the chalk markings, which seemed to be part of a map.

"Look over here," he said, stooping down.

In the lower corner of the blackboard, they could make out the words, "low clay."

"What do you imagine that means?" Joe asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe if we ask Simmons, he'll have an idea."

The boys left the meeting room and climbed the stairs to the museum's main floor. Rounding a corner into the front hall, they spotted a cl.u.s.ter of policemen.

"I wonder what's up," Frank murmured.

Seeing the young detectives approaching, the police turned to face them.

"That's them!" Boswell shouted, stepping out from amongst the cl.u.s.ter of officers and leveling his finger at the trio.

In an instant, the policemen surrounded the boys. "You're under arrest!" one of the officers thundered.

CHAPTER VI.