CHAPTER XII

Dock Attack

“BIFF!” Frank cried out. As he dropped to a crouch beside the Hardys’ motionless chum, his nostrils caught a sickish-sweet odor.

“Is he alive?” Joe asked fearfully.

“Seems to be breathing okay.” Frank ripped off the gag. “My guess is he was chloroformed.”

Almost as Frank spoke, they heard the roar of a motor. A car zoomed off in the darkness.

“Looks as if that second code message meant just what it said!” Joe murmured in a tense voice. “Raid Lektrex plant!”

“Get Biff untied,” Frank said. “I’ll try to phone for a doctor and the police!”

Springing to his feet, Frank dashed toward the plant. The new wing jutted out from the left of the main building. On the right, farther back, stood the powerhouse with its high smokestack. Frank tried the front door. It opened readily.

Inside, the light switch failed to work. Frank shone his flash around the pitch-dark lobby, then sucked in his breath. Another victim, an inside plant guard wearing a badge, lay unconscious on the floor. Like Biff, he had been tied and gagged.

Frank paused long enough to remove the man’s gag and unfasten his collar. Then he darted to the telephone on the reception desk and snatched it up. There was no dial tone.

From his previous visit to Lektrex, Frank knew that the executive offices lay just beyond the lobby. He hurried down a corridor, probing with his flashlight. On the right was a large, glass-partitioned office with desks. At one end, his beam picked out a large safe. Its door was hanging loosely ajar!

Frank tried a phone on one of the desks. It, too, was dead. He ran back outside to rejoin Joe. Biff was now stirring and moaning.

“He’s coming to,” Joe said.

“Good. The thieves cut both the phone lines and the lights.” Frank told of the cracked safe and the unconscious guard. “I’ll tend to him as soon as I alert the police over the boat radio.”

He dashed back to the Sleuth and switched on their marine transceiver, using the police frequency. In moments he succeeded in making contact.

Frank was shutting off the radio when he heard a sudden noise. He whirled in time to see a dark figure sprint onto the dock. Suddenly the man picked up a broken piece of planking and hurled it!

Though Frank ducked, the board struck him on the head with stunning force. He toppled backward in the boat.

Meanwhile, Joe was still working on Biff. The lanky youth’s eyes opened and he struggled to sit up. “Easy, pal,” Joe said soothingly. “How do you feel?”

“Sort of sickish. Guess I’ll be all right, though, once I get over this wooziness.”

The boys broke off as a man came running toward them out of the darkness. “That’s Dan Cronin, one of the night guards,” Biff said. “He’s just coming on for the late shift.”

Cronin took in the situation quickly. Biff, now well enough to talk, explained that he had been patrolling outside the plant when someone had seized him from behind and clamped a rag over his face. “That’s all I remember.”

“I figured something was wrong, even before I got here,” Cronin said. He told the boys he had been walking along the river, on his way to work, when he heard the alarm go off. “But don’t worry. I’ve already kayoed one of the thugs. He was trying to get away in a boat.”

“In a boat?” Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “Good grief! That must’ve been my brother Frank!”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a motorboat engine racketed into life. Joe leaped up and sped toward the dock with Cronin.

Too late! The Sleuth was already shooting out across the river. Joe’s yell brought no answer.

“Are you sure that was your brother aboard?” Cronin asked.

“I don’t know—I couldn’t make out,” Joe said, perplexed. “If that wasn’t Frank, where is he?”

Both stared around the darkened shore area but could see no one. Puzzled and worried, Joe walked back with Cronin to Biff, who was now on his feet. All three entered the plant to attend to the other guard.

Cronin’s mate on the night shift soon arrived, and a police car pulled up at the plant a moment later. By this time, the inside guard whom Frank had discovered was able to tell his story.

“I was making my rounds when all of a sudden the lights went out,” he reported. “Turned out the phones were dead, too, so I hustled downstairs to check with Biff. As I came through the lobby, two guys jumped me—at least I think there were two. I never even got a look at ’em before they slapped a chloroform rag over my face.”

Joe, who was growing increasingly worried over Frank, asked the squad-car sergeant to have Mr. Hardy notified at once. “Even if my brother’s okay,” Joe explained, “Dad has taken on a security investigation for Lektrex, and I think he should know about the robbery.”

“Sure thing.” The sergeant nodded and told his driver to radio word to police headquarters. “Better have them alert Chief Collig, too.”

While the police checked the safe for fingerprints and searched the plant, Joe and Biff went back to the riverfront to keep watch. But neither Frank nor the Sleuth returned.

Meantime, the plant lights were restored. Mr. Hardy and Police Chief Collig arrived within seconds of each other. Both men listened intently to the stories of all involved.

“Any idea how much was taken from the safe?” Collig asked the inside plant guard.

“No, sir. Only the cashier could tell you that, or maybe one of the management.”

“I called Jason Warner, the president,” Mr. Hardy put in. “He and his wife were out, but their maid thinks she can reach him.”

Joe said, “Dad, I’m going out and try to raise Frank on your car’s short-wave.”

“Good idea, son. If the Sleuth doesn’t respond, we’d better organize a search.”

Twenty minutes of repeated calls brought no answer. As Joe reported failure, Mr. Hardy’s face became drawn and grim. He turned to Ezra Collig. “There’s nothing to be gained by waiting. Frank may be in serious danger. I’d like to use the police launch.”

“It’s on the way,” Collig said. ’And I’ve already alerted the Coast Guard.”

Presently the long, powerful launch came churning up to the dock. A spotlight blazed on its deckhouse. As Collig, Joe, Biff, and Mr. Hardy leaped aboard, the boat officer told his chief, “We just got a radiotelephone flash from the harbor master, sir. It may be a lead.”

“Let’s have it!” Collig snapped.

“A call came in from a cottager down at Green Point on the bay, just below the river mouth. Said he heard the noise of a motorboat putting in at a little brushy cove right next to his place. Seemed funny at this time of night, so he switched on his dock lights to try to see what was going on. He was just able to glimpse the boat as it went chugging away again.”

“Who was in it?” the police chief demanded.

Joe’s heart sank as the boat officer replied, “That’s why he called, sir. Apparently there was nobody aboard.”