Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
"It's only a matter of time before someone shows up with the key."
"There is only one duplicate," Elena said.
Joe looked over the room, stopping at a glass door set in the wall. Behind the door was a fire extinguisher, hose, and ax. "Get a load of this."
Frank pulled open a file drawer and started rifling the files. "Let's see what he keeps in this. Any way out of here, Joe?"
"Maybe." Joe drew aside the thick curtains covering the windows and rapped on the glass with his knuckles. "Bulletproof. A cautious guy, this Vladimir." Joe looked out the window and smiled. Outside was the fire escape he had hoped to find.
"Bingo!" he said. "Our ticket out of here." Joe slid the window open and looked down. Far below, men were scrambling over the lawn. "Maybe not. They're already waiting for us down there."
Frank grabbed a handful of files as the pounding on the door grew louder. He walked to the window and looked up. The fire escape continued up and curved onto the roof. Keys were now jingling outside the door.
"We've got no choice," Frank said. "We go up." They climbed onto the fire escape, which wobbled under their weight. But it seemed as if no one below saw them as they scaled the ladder to the roof. The roof was flat, with several pipes sticking out of it, and a large shedlike structure in one corner. In the structure was a door.
Stairs from inside, Frank realized. So they'll be coming at us from two directions. If only we could wreck the fire escape, he thought. But that would take tools they didn't have.
"Bad move, brother." Joe stood at the far edge of the roof, looking down and holding the AK47. "It's too long a drop to the ground—" He stared glumly at the nearest building, twenty feet away. "And the next roof's too far to jump to."
Anxiously, Frank turned in a circle, studying the roof. There had to be some way to escape, he insisted to himself, but he knew he was wrong.
His shoulders slumped. "I hate to say it," he said finally. "But unless we grow wings in the next few seconds, we're trapped."
JOE PEERED OVER at the roof next door, so near and yet so far. "Look at those pipes," he said. "If only we had a rope or cable, we could lasso a pipe on the roof next door and run a line across to it."
"We can!" Frank cried, excited. He dropped the files to the roof. "I need the rifle."
Puzzled, Joe threw the AK47 to his brother. Frank snatched it in midair as he ran to the fire escape. "What are you doing?" Joe asked.
"No time to explain," Frank answered. He pointed at the door to the stairs. "Whatever you do, keep that door closed!" Then Frank was gone, climbing down the fire escape as it bounced beneath his feet.
He slipped back into Vladimir's office. Outside, keys clanged as the doorknob rattled. They're trying to find the right key, Frank realized. Vladimir must not be in the building any longer. Frank opened the fire closet in Vladimir's wall and pulled out the fire hose.
He turned the metal ring attaching the hose to the wall until the hose came free. The tough canvas hose would make as good a line as any.
As Frank gathered up the hose, he heard a key finally turning in the lock. He had to keep the guards from coming through the door.
His glance fell on the heavy bookcases with their thick books stacked around the doorway. With a grin he pulled the trigger on the AK47, spraying the top shelves. The books absorbed the bullets.
But the guards outside didn't know that. Frank could hear frantic commands as the men threw themselves to the floor.
Frank snatched the ax, and with a swift flick of his wrist he spun the wheel in the fire closet. A jet of water rushed from the wall where the hose had been and sprayed across the office. That ought to slow them down, he thought as he dashed to the window.
He was wrong. Like trained combat troops, the Russians rolled into the room and took positions on the floor. As Frank stepped onto the fire escape, they locked their sights on him and fired.
Vladimir's window fell into place behind Frank, and the shots bounced harmlessly off the bulletproof glass. Seconds later Frank climbed onto the roof.
"Great!" said Joe when he saw the fire hose. Frank handed him the ax instead.
"They're right behind me," Frank said. "But that fire escape's about to go. I don't think anyone's checked it in years. Try to pry it loose from the building with the ax."
"I do not understand," Elena said as Joe worked at the bolts holding the fire escape to the building. "How do we escape?"
"We're going to go hand over hand across this hose to the next building," replied Joe.
"I can't do it, my arms are too weak," Elena said.
"You'll hang onto me, and I'll take us both across. But right now I need some help. ..."
Frank knotted one end of the hose around a pipe and tested it. The hose held. He tied the other end of the hose in a slipknot.
Joe groaned. "It's too late." The first Russian was slipping out of the window onto the fire escape. He grinned viciously up at Joe. The Russian's foot slammed down on the first rung of the ladder.
Under his weight the fire escape gave way. Flailing amid the falling metal, the Russian grabbed the window ledge and stopped his fall, but the fire escape crashed down to the ground.
"False alarm," Joe said. "How's it going on your end, Frank?"
"I think I've got the range," Frank said. He swung the looped end of the hose over his head like a lariat, then let go and flung it across to the other roof.
It bounced off a pipe, slipped off the building, and fell.
"Here," said Joe, taking the hose from Frank. "Let me show you how it's done."
"Hurry!" Elena screamed. Footsteps were pounding up the inside stairs.
We only need another minute, thought Frank. He studied the door to the stairwell. It had no lock. Metal braces stuck out of either side of the doorframe, but they were useless without a bar to hold the door closed.
A bar! he realized. He snatched up the ax and ran to the door. "Get back!" he ordered Elena, and she moved to the side. The door swung open, and Frank kicked out, driving a man back into the stairwell. Elena threw her weight into the door and slammed it shut, and Frank rammed the ax handle into place across the two braces.
"That won't hold them long," he told Joe. "Any luck?"
Joe focused on a curved pipe on the far roof.
He threw the hose across the alley. It caught the pipe. He pulled it taut.
"Let's go," he said. Frank scooped up the files as Elena rushed to Joe's side.
"Grab onto me," Joe said to Elena. "And hold tight." He lowered himself and Elena onto the hose and started to inch across the rope.
After only a foot of very slow going they heard the sound of wood splintering. The ax handle was breaking.
"You'll never make it all the way across," Frank whispered. "You'll get gunned down."
"We have to try," said Joe.
"Maybe not," Frank answered. And he signaled them to hurry back.
As Joe worked his way back the short distance, Frank said, "Here's my plan...."
***
With a crack the ax handle split and shattered, the door swung open, and Russians swarmed onto the rooftop. They stopped, staring at one another in confusion.
Aside from the Russians, the rooftop was deserted.
Konstantin strolled onto the roof, and the Russians snapped to attention. He walked to the hose, still stretched to the far building, and looked over the edge of the roof. On the ground, halfway across the alley, were files and the AK47. On the far roof were more scattered files.
"How could you let them escape?" roared an angry voice behind him. Konstantin turned to see Vladimir standing in the doorway.
He waved Vladimir to the roofs edge. "They have reached the next house. Your men should search the streets. On foot they cannot get far." Almost as an afterthought he added, "They seem to have some of your files."
"What are you waiting for?" Vladimir told his men. "Bring them back."
The Russians raced down the stairs. Vladimir followed them slowly. On the roof Konstantin gazed at the nearby houses in the peaceful Spanish morning. Below, a wave of Russians broke through the streets. "Clever boys," Konstantin said, chuckling, then abruptly turned and went downstairs.
***
"All gone," Frank said. He rolled off the top of the structure that housed the stairwell, landed on the roof, and stretched his legs.
"I was so afraid," Elena said as Joe helped her down. "Lying so still, trying not to make a sound — "
Joe dropped to the roof. "You did fine. That was a good idea, Frank, throwing the files and rifle off the roof to make them think we'd made it to the other side."
"There was almost nothing in the files we could use," Frank said. "And the rifle wouldn't have done us much good against all those men. We didn't have anything to lose. This place should have cleared out by now. How can we get away from here?"
"I have a car parked just a block away," Elena said.
"Sounds like our best shot," Frank agreed. Going downstairs, they moved cautiously through the almost deserted consulate.
Elena turned onto a narrow dirt road. A short distance farther she pulled the Audi to a stop. "Well, where do we go?" she asked.
"Let's get out of the car for a minute and then discuss it," Joe answered her.
"We have to find the Network—if we can," Frank said. "They're at the bottom of this whole mess."
"You're right," said a deep voice. "But the Network found you instead." Both Frank and Joe recognized the man who appeared just behind them. Usually he wore a gray suit and a rumpled trench coat. That day he was in short sleeves, with a camera around his neck — a typical tourist. His specialty was appearing completely unremarkable, just one more face in the crowd. But he really was a dangerous agent.
"The Gray Man!" Joe said. Whenever they dealt with the Network, they had always worked through him. "Are we glad to see you! You've got to help us clear our names."
"I can't, Joe." He drew his hand from his slightly baggy pants. He held a small pistol. "I have my orders," the Gray Man said. "You're coming with me."
"YOU'RE KIDDING!" JOE said. But the Gray Man's expression told him it was no joke. "Take us in for what?"
"Washington thinks you killed our agent here," the Gray Man explained. He waved the gun to signal them to raise their hands. "I'm to bring you in before the Spanish grab you. We don't want this to become more of an incident than it already is."
Frank slowly edged left. "Do you think we did it?"
The Gray Man shrugged. "What I think doesn't matter. To the Network you're outsiders. And that makes you suspect. The theory is you got greedy, stole the data Martin gave you, and decided to go into business for yourself. He tried to stop you and you killed him."
"Business?" Frank said. As the Gray Man's eyes followed Frank, Joe eased to the right. "Like selling the data? We don't even know what it is. How are we supposed to sell it?"
"You're not stupid, Frank, so don't play dumb with me," the Gray Man said. "In his last message, Martin said he passed the data on to you. If he said he did, he did."
Frank pondered the Gray Man's words. Had Martin passed the information to them without their knowing it? Was it in something he said? Or something he gave them? He reached for his pocket, and the Gray Man took aim at him. "Slowly," the Gray Man said. "Two fingers." Frank nodded, and dug into his back pocket with his thumb and index finger. Their itinerary was still there. He pulled it out. "This is the only thing Martin gave us," he said. "If this isn't it, I don't know what it is."
"Give it to the girl," the Gray Man ordered. Frank handed the paper to Elena. "Bring it here." She walked to the Gray Man, who took the paper in his free hand. As Elena returned to Frank, the Gray Man shook the paper open and studied it.
"This was printed from a computer," the Gray Man said. He crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground. "That wasn't Martin's style. To keep up his cover as a writer, he used a battered old manual typewriter. The E and the J were crooked. He didn't write this. Stop playing games."
"The chauffeur said Martin gave it to him to give to us," Joe insisted, taking another step to the right.
"Chauffeur? The Network didn't arrange for a chauffeur."
Frank's jaw dropped. "Arrange? It was part of the contest I won."
"You won because you were the only entry," said the Gray Man. "It wasn't my idea. The Network needed a go-between for this exchange, someone who wasn't publicly connected to us.
"One of our people suggested you. When I told them you wouldn't go along with it, they created the phony contest. Once you were in Malaga, Martin would handle you."
He sighed. "I objected to the plan, but I was outvoted."
"Because your agent had to be rescued," Frank said. "I can understand that, but the Network still had no right to involve us."
"Who told you about our agent?" The Gray Man asked, suspicion creeping into his voice. "I thought you didn't talk to Martin about it."
"As a matter of fact, it was a guy named Konstantin," Frank said, inching left.
It was the Gray Man's turn to be surprised, and for a moment it showed on his face. "Konstantin's here?" he said.
Joe nodded. "Do us a favor," he said. "Talk to us. Pretend for a minute that we walked into the middle of this, and tell us what's going on. Maybe if we know what this information is, we can tell you where to find it."
"I owe you that much," the Gray Man replied. "Martin had discovered the name of a mole — a double agent—inside the KGB. He was working for the Chinese too. That's why they were willing to let our man go.
"Stop it," he said suddenly.
Joe and Frank froze. They were standing directly opposite each other, with the Gray Man in the middle. The Gray Man knew that they had been trying to outflank him all along. "We're not going back with you," Joe said. "The only way to take us is to shoot us."
The Gray Man shook his head. "Don't be stupid."