Read Online Strategic Moves by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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other bed was empty. A lone window had its bland yellow curtain drawn. The room was bright white and sterile-looking, and it smelled like alcohol.
"The others?" Joe smacked his lips. His throat was dry.
"They are fine," Krylov answered. "Thanks to you."
Joe pushed himself up on his elbows. "No, I mean, where are they?"
Frank walked into the room, a cold can of ginger ale in either hand.
"Hey, brother," Frank said with a grin. "I thought you'd like this when you came to."
Joe took the drink. It felt heavy, but he lifted the can to his lips and drank long and deep.
"That's good," he said after a moment, wiping his lips with the back of his arm. "Someone want to explain what happened?"
"From what the others have said," Fitzhugh replied, "it appears that you turned up the gas furnace without checking to make sure the pilot light was on. The room filled with gas and nearly killed all four of you."
"Was it just another accident that the pilot light was out?" Frank asked skeptically. "Two near misses in one day, and you're not suspicious?"
Fitzhugh coughed. "Well, I must say that it does seem rather coincidental."
"More like intentional, don't you think?" Joe said. Then he polished off the ginger ale.
"Impossible," Krylov said.
"Why?" Joe said, scooting off the bed and standing.
"We have been watching the area," Krylov responded.
"In fact," the Gray Man added, "I've been watching your room since early afternoon. No one went in or out." He chuckled. "You know you can trust me."
Frank wasn't so sure. He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the lighter again. "Where has Aleksandr been?"
"He has been called back to the Soviet embassy in London," Krylov replied.
"Why?" Frank wanted to know.
"Confidential," the Soviet agent said flatly.
"I'm getting just a little tired of this," Frank blurted.
The three agency heads stared at Frank, all looking startled.
"What do you mean, Frank?" Gray asked.
Frank looked at Krylov. "You told us earlier today that you wanted Ziggy and Petra out in the open so as not to arouse the suspicion of school officials or the press."
"What about it?" Krylov asked.
"You're just using them as bait," Frank said pointedly. "Trying to bring the kidnappers out in the open."
"Such impertinence," Fitzhugh huffed.
"And you," Frank continued, looking at Fitzhugh. "I know the English are famous as masters of understatement, but you've raised it to an art form. You explain everything as an accident or a coincidence. Just what kind of intelligence agent are you?"
"Frank!" the Gray Man barked.
"You're not innocent in all of this," Frank shot back. "I don't know what your angle is, but you've got something up your sleeve, and I intend to find out what it is. Let's go, Joe." Frank walked swiftly out of the room.
Joe followed, catching up with his brother as he headed down the stairs.
"Hey, there's hope for you yet," Joe said with a smile.
"What are you talking about?" Frank's face was flushed, and his voice was hoarse.
"I'm the one who's supposed to get angry and shoot off my big mouth, but your little outburst back there was great."
They opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and walked outside into the night air.
"Don't believe everything you see or hear," Frank said, his smile broad and devilish.
Joe showed surprise. "That was all an act?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"I want to see who panics first." Frank thrust his hands into his pockets as they walked on.
"Far out," Joe said with a laugh. "I'd take my hat off to you if I wore a hat." Joe looked around. They had passed the Brasenose dorm and were headed east on the High. "Hey! Where are we going?"
"We've been moved," Frank explained. "We've been assigned to two guest cottages on the Corn. You, Ziggy, and I in one, Petra and Katrina in the other. Fitzhugh thought it best to keep us all together and away from the university."
Joe sighed. "Nothing like putting all your eggs in one basket and then shooting at them."
"Yeah. You still have the
"The others?" Joe smacked his lips. His throat was dry.
"They are fine," Krylov answered. "Thanks to you."
Joe pushed himself up on his elbows. "No, I mean, where are they?"
Frank walked into the room, a cold can of ginger ale in either hand.
"Hey, brother," Frank said with a grin. "I thought you'd like this when you came to."
Joe took the drink. It felt heavy, but he lifted the can to his lips and drank long and deep.
"That's good," he said after a moment, wiping his lips with the back of his arm. "Someone want to explain what happened?"
"From what the others have said," Fitzhugh replied, "it appears that you turned up the gas furnace without checking to make sure the pilot light was on. The room filled with gas and nearly killed all four of you."
"Was it just another accident that the pilot light was out?" Frank asked skeptically. "Two near misses in one day, and you're not suspicious?"
Fitzhugh coughed. "Well, I must say that it does seem rather coincidental."
"More like intentional, don't you think?" Joe said. Then he polished off the ginger ale.
"Impossible," Krylov said.
"Why?" Joe said, scooting off the bed and standing.
"We have been watching the area," Krylov responded.
"In fact," the Gray Man added, "I've been watching your room since early afternoon. No one went in or out." He chuckled. "You know you can trust me."
Frank wasn't so sure. He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the lighter again. "Where has Aleksandr been?"
"He has been called back to the Soviet embassy in London," Krylov replied.
"Why?" Frank wanted to know.
"Confidential," the Soviet agent said flatly.
"I'm getting just a little tired of this," Frank blurted.
The three agency heads stared at Frank, all looking startled.
"What do you mean, Frank?" Gray asked.
Frank looked at Krylov. "You told us earlier today that you wanted Ziggy and Petra out in the open so as not to arouse the suspicion of school officials or the press."
"What about it?" Krylov asked.
"You're just using them as bait," Frank said pointedly. "Trying to bring the kidnappers out in the open."
"Such impertinence," Fitzhugh huffed.
"And you," Frank continued, looking at Fitzhugh. "I know the English are famous as masters of understatement, but you've raised it to an art form. You explain everything as an accident or a coincidence. Just what kind of intelligence agent are you?"
"Frank!" the Gray Man barked.
"You're not innocent in all of this," Frank shot back. "I don't know what your angle is, but you've got something up your sleeve, and I intend to find out what it is. Let's go, Joe." Frank walked swiftly out of the room.
Joe followed, catching up with his brother as he headed down the stairs.
"Hey, there's hope for you yet," Joe said with a smile.
"What are you talking about?" Frank's face was flushed, and his voice was hoarse.
"I'm the one who's supposed to get angry and shoot off my big mouth, but your little outburst back there was great."
They opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and walked outside into the night air.
"Don't believe everything you see or hear," Frank said, his smile broad and devilish.
Joe showed surprise. "That was all an act?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"I want to see who panics first." Frank thrust his hands into his pockets as they walked on.
"Far out," Joe said with a laugh. "I'd take my hat off to you if I wore a hat." Joe looked around. They had passed the Brasenose dorm and were headed east on the High. "Hey! Where are we going?"
"We've been moved," Frank explained. "We've been assigned to two guest cottages on the Corn. You, Ziggy, and I in one, Petra and Katrina in the other. Fitzhugh thought it best to keep us all together and away from the university."
Joe sighed. "Nothing like putting all your eggs in one basket and then shooting at them."
"Yeah. You still have the
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