Frank and Joe walked down the driveway to where Chet, Biff and Tony were working on the jalopy. Just as the Hardys approached, Chet put the hood down.
“Looks like we're just in time,” Frank said. “Is she road worthy?”
“Better than ever!” Chet exclaimed. “I was just about to take her for a spin.”
Joe explained to the three boys that they needed to make a trip to Elmira to look at a racecar that was just put up for sale. Chet quickly volunteered to drive, and Tony volunteered to stay behind in case the Hardys needed someone to do some online research while they were gone.
Frank, Joe, Chet and Biff quickly headed down the state highway, past the Seneca Lodge where Mr. Cohen was staying, and towards Elmira. Chet opened it up a little and let the new carburetor under the hood bring the old jalopy well in excess of the speed limit.
“Easy there big fella,” Joe said. “This isn't the backstretch at The Glen! Let's leave the speed for the professionals!”
“Good idea,” Chet said and he backed the speed down to the legal limit. After a few more minutes, Chet noticed a motorcyle quickly approaching from behind. Before the boys knew it, the motorcycle was alongside and the rider was peering over at them through his full-face helmet. He reached into his leather jacket and in an instant a loud bang was heard and the jalopy was out of control!
Chet fought for control as the motorcyle sped off into the distance. The mysterious rider had shot out the front tire of the jalopy and Chet nearly found himself in the same ditch the Hardys ended up in just a few hours earlier.
“Did you get the license number on that motorcycle Joe?” Frank said as he struggled to catch his breath. “I couldn't get it. All I know is that was some sort of foreign motorcycle.”
“I didn't get the license either, Frank. We need to report this to the local police. I am afraid we've gotten ourselves into something we might not be able to get out of.”
Chet had climbed out of the jalopy and was visibly shaken. He trembled as he looked at the tire that was now torn to shreds under the front fender.
“Chet, that was some dandy driving right there,” Joe said reassuringly. “I don't know many men outside of a professional racecar driver that could have saved that. Maybe you have a new career in front of you.”
The Hardys quickly got the jack out of the trunk and Biff and Chet quickly changed the tire. In less than ten minutes, the boys were back on the road to Elmira.
The followed the directions on their GPS down a narrow lane to a small ramshackle house. In the driveway was parked a blue pickup truck that was nearly as old as Chet's jalopy. It hardly looked like the place a valuable racecar would be kept, even if it was stolen.
They knocked on the door and were met by a gray-haired gentleman that appeared to be several years older than their father.
“You the boys I spoke to on the phone?” he said gruffly. “You want to look at the racecar?”
“Sure thing,” Joe said. “We're working with a man from New York that wants to enter a car in the race this weekend.”
“Let's go out to the barn and I'll show you what I have.”
The four boys walked to the barn with the older gentleman, who had yet to offer his name.
“I am Frank Hardy, this is my brother Joe and our friends Chet and Biff,” Frank said. “May we ask your name?”
The man kept walking toward the barn at the back of the property. The boys started feeling nervous since their strange host offered no response to their query.
As they reached the barn, Frank noticed the door was ajar. Just as the old gentleman went to reach for it, the door opened quickly from the inside! The man was knocked backwards and a man wearing a motorcycle helmet and leather jacket sprinted past him and dashed into the woods!
Joe took off into the woods after him without giving any thought to what the rider had done to the front tire of Chet's jalopy just a few minutes earlier. Joe, a star on the Bayport High School track team, quickly caught up to his adversary and attempted to tackle him.
But before Joe could subdue him, the man swung and connected to Joe's jaw with a solid right hook! Joe fought back and landed a solid jab to the man's ribs, but the helmet meant for protection on the road meant Joe had no chance. The man swung Joe around and took one more wild swing, connecting solidly into Joe's solar plexus!
Joe crumpled to the ground and the man disappeared into the woods. Frank arrived on the scene and helped his brother to his feet. They walked the short distance back to the barn where Chet and Biff were assisting the old gentleman with a slight cut to his forehead.
“This is Oma Kimbrough,” Chet said. “He owns a racecar that he keeps here in the barn.”
“And I don't have my hearing aids in boys, so that's why I didn't hear you as we were walking to the barn. Many years of being around these loud racecars have cost me much of my hearing I'm afraid.”
“Hear that Chet,” Joe said.
“He does now, ask him again in fifteen years!” Frank laughed.
“In any case, the years have finally caught up to me and maintaining a racecar is just not something I can do so I decided to put it up for sale since many racers are going to be in the area this week. Chet here told me you were thinking this might be Mr. Cohen's stolen racecar but I have all the paperwork inside. I am glad to show you if you'd like.”
“That won't be necessary Mr. Kimbrough,” Frank said. “We'll take you on your word. Besides, if you're car was the stolen one, why would someone be trying to steal it for the second time today?”
Frank and Joe filled Mr. Kimbrough in on the details of the theft earlier in the day, and then discussed the theory that a ring of racecar thieves was operating in the area.
“I don't come out to the barn as often as I used to, but I have noticed some of my things have come up missing lately,” Kimbrough said. “Nothing major, but a tool here or a piece of equipment there. I figured I loaned it to someone and just didn't remember but now that you're saying there are thieves in the area it's putting me on edge.”
“Mr. Kimbrough, we're relieved you're okay,” Joe said. “Thank you for your time, you've been a lot of help.”
“And if you don't mind, maybe I could come back tomorrow and look under the hood of that beast in there,” Chet said.
“Actually, that is a great idea Chet,” Frank said. “Now that we know that car is a target, having at least one of us here is smart.”
Kimbrough and Chet agreed to meet again the next day and the boys climbed back into the jalopy for the ride back to the Hardy lake house.
Frank called Tony Prito from the back seat.
“Tony, have you seen anything from our dad come in via email?” he asked.
“No, I haven't. No word at all. But Mr. Cohen is here. He said there is a new development in the case. You should get back here as quick as possible.”
The boys said their goodbyes to Mr. Kimbrough and Chet agreed to come back the next day to tinker on the car. They made their way back to the lake house as quickly as Chet could get them there, all the while keeping a leery eye out for any trouble.
“The last two times we've been on this road, we've ended up in a ditch and been shot at,” Joe said. “Let's hope we get home in one piece!”
The ride passed uneventfully and they eventually swung onto the long, winding driveway to the Hardy lake house. When the car came to a stop, the first person to greet them was Mr. Cohen. He was breathless when he arrived at the car.
“Boys! They found the pickup truck!” he said as the boys climbed out of the jalopy. “It was abandoned in a field just north of here. Nothing was taken from it from what I can tell.”
“Interesting that they'd ditch the pickup truck,” Frank said. “Maybe it's the one thing that would be the most easily tracked by the authorities.”
“We should definitely debrief with the police,” Joe said. “We also need to tell them about our little run-in with the mystery motorcyle rider, both on the road and at Mr. Kimbrough's farm.”
The Hardys updated Mr. Cohen on the near accident on the road and the fight at the farm with the motorcycle rider.
“Have you ever done any business with anyone that rides a foreign motorcycle?” Frank asked.
“Not that I can remember, but I live in New York City,” Cohen said. “Most people take a taxi when they're in the city so it's possible that someone I know has just such a motorcycle and I don't know about it.”
The boys said their goodbyes to Cohen and then headed to the local police department. There they met with Chief Tom Rotsell, and they filled him in on their brush with the motorcyclist.
“We have heard there was a chance a violent ring of racecar thieves would follow the circuit up here to New York,” Chief Rotsell said. “We have been in touch with some other jurisdictions around the country, and it sounds like their M.O. Sorry that you boys have borne the brunt of their violence to this point. We'll do whatever we can to help you find Mr. Cohen's missing car and to keep you boys safe.”
The boys headed back to the lake house following their talk with Chief Rotsell. On the way back, Frank decided to stop by the Seneca Lodge to follow up with Mr. Cohen on the recovery of the pickup truck.
When they pulled into the parking lot, they immediately saw the black dually at the back of the lot, covered nose to tail in mud.
“It looks like they did some off-roading with this pickup,” Joe surmised.
“They did,” Cohen said, as he approached them as the boys inspected the truck. “This truck isn't designed for that at all. It's meant to pull. I am surprised they were able to get it off road at all.”
“Joe, look at this, the mud on the sides looks like it's all been scratched off by brush,” Frank said. “Wherever they took this truck, the path lining the road was shrouded by trees or other small bushes.”
“I wouldn't at all be surprised if wherever that road is, it leads straight to a large stash of stolen racing equipment,” Joe said.
Cohen said he had been in touch with a few of the other team owners on the circuit and they too had discovered missing equipment. “Maybe not a complete racecar, but many of them have lost spare engines, wheels, tires, other equipment that could go missing without raising eyebrows,” he said.
The boys said their goodbyes to Cohen and said they would be in touch with him soon. They finished their drive back to the lake house. The sun was setting and they had wanted to spend some time on the lake before dark.
“Call Tony and have him get the Sleuth ready,” Frank said to Joe.
When they got back, all five boys headed out onto the lake. They found a secluded cove and spent an hour swimming off the bow of the boat. The boys started the engine to head back to the lake house just as the sun was setting. As the Sleuth started to pick up speed and rounded a point to head out of the cove, a speedboat suddenly aimed right towards them!
“Frank, look out!” Joe screamed over the sound of the engine and the waves.
Frank cranked the helm to the left. The speeding boat passed but the Sleuth was tossed violently in the wake.
“Is everyone okay,” Frank asked after regaining control of the boat.
No one answered.
