Falsely Accused (The Barclay Family Adventures 2)

Falsely Accused BY

Ed Hanson

THE BARCLAY FAMILY ADVENTURES Series 1

Series 2

Amazon Adventure

African Safari

Danger at 20 Fathoms

Disaster in Oceania

Desert Ordeal

Falsely Accused

Forest Fire

The Floodgates

Hostages

Free Fall

Lost at Sea

Hurricane

Mountain Blizzard

Iron Mountain

The Pass

Mystery at Bear Lake

The Swamp

Ransom

Tornado

Sunken Treasure

Development and Production: Laurel Associates, Inc. Cover and Interior Art: Black Eagle Productions

Three Watson Irvine, CA 92618-2767 Website: www.sdlback.com Copyright © 2005 by Saddleback Educational Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

ISBN 1-56254-802-6 Printed in the United States of America 10 09 08 07 06 05 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

CONTENTS CHAPTER

PAGE

1 Jack’s Second Chance . . . . . . . 5 2 Aaron’s Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 3 A Mysterious Truck . . . . . . . . . 16 4 A Bank Robbery . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 5 The Prime Suspect . . . . . . . . . . 28 6 Looking for Clues . . . . . . . . . . 33 7 Jack Tells His Story . . . . . . . . . 38 8 Aaron’s Discovery . . . . . . . . . . 43 9 Making a Deal . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 10 Dishonor Among Thieves . . . . 56 11 The Crook Is Caught . . . . . . . . 61

MEET THE BARCLAYS

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Paul Barclay A fun-loving father of three who includes his kids in his adventures whenever he can.

Ann Barclay The devoted mother who manages the homefront during Paul’s many absences as an on-site construction engineer.

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Jim Barclay The eldest child, Jim is a talented athlete in his third year of college on a football scholarship.

Aaron Barclay A high school senior, Aaron is inquisitive, daring, and an absolute whiz in science class.

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Pam Barclay Adopted from Korea as a baby, Pam is a spunky high school freshman who more than holds her own with her lively older brothers.

CHAPTER 1

Jack’s Second Chance Jack Sinclair climbed into his pickup truck for the drive into Springfield. At dawn, the summer air was still cool and fresh. But Jack knew it was going to get much, much hotter once the sun was high in the sky. Jack had come a long way from his lonely years as a teenager in Florida. Back then he’d made his living poaching wildlife in the Everglades. That wasn’t legal, of course, and many people would say it wasn’t right. But it was the only thing Jack knew how to do. He might have kept on doing it, too—if it hadn’t been for some really bad luck.

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Because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Jack had been convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. He’d gone to prison. Then, while he was on a work detail near the Everglades, Jack had escaped into the swamp. There, he’d hijacked an airboat—one that had been rented by the Barclays. Pretending to be their tour guide, he took the family on a high-speed journey through the swamp. That wild ride ended in a crash. Aaron, the Barclays’ younger son, was pinned under the wreckage of the airboat! But Jack didn’t run. Risking his own capture, he knew he had to help Paul Barclay save Aaron’s life. But he wasn’t captured. In fact, that turned out to be the luckiest day of Jack’s life. Why? Because he and Paul formed a friendship. Later, with Paul’s help, Jack’s wrongful conviction and jail sentence were overturned. Once Jack was set free, Paul helped him get a job and pull his life together. That 6

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was just the second chance Jack Sinclair had needed. He would always be grateful to Paul Barclay and his family. All that had happened years ago. Since then Jack had left Florida and moved north to be closer to his adopted family. He now had a small construction business that was growing slowly but steadily. In fact he’d recently won an important contract. His company had been hired to put up all the interior walls in a new fivestory condominium building. The job would keep Jack and his crew busy for the next year. The Fargo Building, as the new structure was to be called, was located in the downtown area of Springfield. It would sit on a two-acre lot between an office building and the Springfield Bank. This was a prime location. Real estate agents had begun to sell some of the units before they were even built. Arriving at the building site, Jack drove his pickup truck down the ramp 7

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and into the basement. When finished, the basement would serve as the garage for the condo owners. But right now it was just a large, open area where workers parked their cars. From there, they used the stairs to reach their various work areas. Jack wondered why two armed security guards were keeping watch over the basement area. Then, shrugging, he went on to join his crew. Today they were framing units on the first floor. At noon, the group broke for lunch. Jack sat with his foreman, John Gates. Both men looked out at the vast area of the Fargo Building’s first floor. Through the open studding, they could see from one end of the building to the other. Between bites of his sandwich, Jack paused. “John, why do you suppose the first floor of this building looks so much larger than the basement?” “Gee,” John answered, “I never really noticed. Do you think it actually is larger?”

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“It sure looks bigger to me,” Jack replied. “Maybe it’s an optical illusion.” “That’s probably it,” John said. Later that afternoon, Jack’s curiosity got the better of him. He paced off the width of the first floor, counting 170 feet. Then he went down into the basement. One of the guards eyed him suspiciously. Jack smiled and said, “I forgot something in my truck.” When the guard turned away, Jack counted his steps as he walked. The far wall was 160 feet wide. Back upstairs, Jack returned to work. But he couldn’t keep his mind off his discovery. Something is really fishy here, he thought to himself. Why have security guards patrolling an empty basement? And why, when the outside walls were the same, was there a 10-foot difference between the basement and the first floor?

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CHAPTER 2

Aaron’s Theory Paul answered the phone on the second ring. A familiar, cheerful voice on the other end said, “Hi, Paul.” “Jack!” Paul answered with obvious delight. “How are you doing?” “I’m fine, Paul. I was thinking of driving over to Rockdale in the morning. I’ve been wondering if you still serve those great Sunday morning breakfasts.” “We sure do, my friend,” Paul said. “Can you be here about 9:30?” “I’ll be there,” Jack answered. “See you in the morning.” It was just 9:15 when Jack pulled into the Barclays’ driveway. Aaron was hard at work washing his dad’s car. He was

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accompanied by Charlie, the newest member of the family. “Hi, Jack!” Aaron called out. “I don’t think you’ve met Charlie yet.” The yellow Lab bounded across the lawn. His tail was wagging and there was a bright sparkle in his eyes. As Jack got out of his truck, the friendly dog leaped into the front seat. Aaron laughed. “Charlie loves to go for a ride,” he explained as he dragged the dog out of the truck. “Come on in, Jack. Dad and Jim are waiting for you. Looks like it’s an all-male breakfast this morning. Mom and Pam are away on a trip.” “Oh, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing both of them.” Inside, the four men dug into stacks of pancakes, crispy bacon, and fried eggs. “You Barclays are really something!” Jack exclaimed. “How do you all stay so fit eating breakfasts like this?” Jim grinned. “We don’t eat like this all

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the time. Our big Sunday breakfasts are an exception,” he said. Charlie had worked his way under the table. There he waited for any handouts that might be offered. Usually, he didn’t have a very long wait. Aaron was a soft touch when it came to Charlie. Later, when the dishes had been cleared, Paul said, “How’s your business going, Jack?” Jack took a long sip of his coffee before speaking. “Just fine, Paul. But I wanted to talk to you about something rather strange I’ve noticed.” “What do you mean, strange?” “Well, for one thing, there are always security guards stationed in the basement area of the new building. And that just doesn’t make any sense, Paul. There’s nothing down there. Right now it’s just one big, open space.” “Hmm,” Paul mused. “That really does seem odd.”

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“And there’s more.” Jack continued. “For weeks now I’ve sensed that the basement wasn’t as large as the first floor. The exterior walls of both floors are the same. On Friday afternoon, I paced off both areas. And sure enough—the basement is 10 feet narrower.” “If you have the same exterior walls, how can that be?” Jim asked. Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me, Jim,” he replied. “I can’t explain it.” Jack pulled out a blueprint of the building and laid it on the table. After studying the plan, Paul shook his head. “You’re right, Jack,” he said. “This doesn’t make sense.” When no one offered a solution to the mystery, Jack hopped up. “After such a great breakfast,” he said, “the least I can do is wash the dishes.” “I’ll give you a hand,” Jim offered. “And while you guys are doing that, I’ll put my superior mind to work solving

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your puzzle,” Aaron said with a smile. Tucking the blueprint under his arm, he left the room with Charlie at his heels. Half an hour later, Aaron returned to the kitchen. He had a triumphant smile on his face. “I have an ingenious solution to your mystery, Jack,” he announced. “Okay, let’s hear it,” Jack replied. “Well, first let me warn you that it’s pretty far out. So you’ll all have to keep an open mind.” “Gee, Aaron, enough with the drama and suspense,” Jim complained. “What’s your theory?” Aaron took a deep breath and started. “Ten feet of space can’t just disappear, can it? I’m guessing that a false wall has been built in the basement. Now the question is, why? Jack, have you ever noticed the business that’s right next door to the Fargo Building?” Jack scratched his head and thought

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about it. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “Is it an office of some kind?” Paul and Jim were listening closely. “No, no, Jack! It’s the Springfield Bank,” Aaron said as he looked at his father. “What if someone dug a tunnel between the Fargo Building and the bank? A robber could come up through the floor and get right into the bank vault! The guy could escape with millions! Of course, the tunnel would have to be cleverly hidden so it couldn’t be detected. I say that’s the reason for the false wall.”

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CHAPTER 3

A Mysterious Truck Paul, Jack, and Jim sat speechless for a minute. It was a truly bizarre idea—and yet, it did make some sense. Aaron’s idea would explain both the missing 10 feet and the heavy security. Finally, Paul spoke up. “No, Aaron,” he said, “that’s ridiculous.” But Jack didn’t agree. “Now wait a minute, Paul. If it were true, it would be a brilliant plan. Imagine tunneling into the bank vault on a Sunday. The bank would be closed. No guards would be on duty! And no one would even know there’d been a robbery until Monday morning when the bank reopened.” “Jack’s making a valid point, Dad,” Jim

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added. “I think we should at least check out the possibility.” “And how do you propose to do that?” Paul asked. “I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Jack interrupted. “Let me snoop around a little this week. At least now I know what I’m looking for. I’ll call you if I find anything.” All agreed that this was probably the best move. During the rest of Jack’s visit, the subject of the Fargo Building didn’t come up again. It was early afternoon when Jack finally stood up to leave. “I guess I’d better be heading back now,” he said. After warm goodbyes and handshakes, he got back in his truck. Soon he was driving down the highway toward Springfield. **** At work on Monday morning, Jack paid close attention to everything that was

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happening around him. For the first time, he noticed a big, gray truck parked against the wall in the far corner of the basement. The words Dunn Electrical were painted on the side panel. He wondered about that. At this stage of construction, no electricians were needed on the job. Jack hesitated. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. As a test, he decided to ask John Gates to lend him a hand. “John, could you do me a little favor?” he asked the foreman. “Sure,” John replied. “What do you need, Jack?” “There’s an electrical truck parked in the basement,” Jack replied. “I’d like you to go take a good look at it for me.” “What’s this about?” John asked. “Just humor me for the moment, will you, John?” Jack asked. “Okay, boss, you got it!” John replied as he headed for the basement.

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Following John, Jack watched very discreetly from the bottom of the stairs. When John got about 30 feet from the truck, a security guard ushered him back to the stairs! This is really incredible, Jack thought to himself. Could Aaron’s wild theory possibly be right? John followed Jack back up the stairs. “Well, that was strange,” he said. “Now tell me what this is all about, Jack.” “I’m not sure,” Jack replied. “Probably nothing. Just forget about it for the time being, will you, John? I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.” **** Tuesday morning Jack noticed that the mysterious truck was still parked in the same corner of the basement. It was then that he formed a plan that would change his life. Jack decided that, late that night, he’d sneak into the basement of the Fargo Building. In the cover of darkness he wanted to check out the truck and

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investigate the possibility of a false wall. It was just past midnight when Jack neared the construction site. Parking a block away, he slowly made his way along the empty street. The basement area of the Fargo Building was dark and appeared to be deserted. Jack inched his way along the wall, keeping a watchful eye out for any movement in the room. He was about 100 feet from the truck when he spotted a small flicker of light inside the cab. Just a few seconds later, the light was gone. Jack realized that someone sitting in the truck had just lit a cigarette. He hadn’t expected to find anyone on guard in the middle of the night! This presented a new problem. Jack continued to work his way closer to the truck. He wasn’t really sure just what he’d do once he got there. As he got closer, he dropped to his hands and knees and started to crawl. After creeping around the passenger’s

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side of the truck, he looked up in total amazement. There in the wall was a fourfoot hole! Hidden behind the truck, the hole had been unnoticeable. Now Jack peeked at the man in the cab. Having put out his cigarette, the fellow now seemed to be dozing off. Well, it’s now or never, Jack thought to himself. He climbed through the hole and peered into a wide corridor. Halfway down the passage some men were carting wheelbarrows full of dirt out of a tunnel. After pushing their wheelbarrows to the far end of the corridor, they were dumping them out. Jack was stunned. They don’t even have to truck the dirt out, he thought to himself. There’s plenty of room to store it right behind the fake wall. I’ve got to get out of here right away and notify the police! But just as Jack turned to leave, he felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. Knocked out cold, he instantly fell to the ground.

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CHAPTER 4

A Bank Robbery It was noon on Thursday and no one had heard from Jack. Paul was getting concerned. He had tried calling Jack’s apartment several times but got no answer. What’s going on? he thought to himself. If I don’t hear from him this evening I’ll drive over to Springfield tomorrow. About 10:00 P.M. Paul told Jim and Aaron he was going to Springfield in the morning. They both asked to go along. The Barclays arrived at the Fargo Building about 9:00 A.M. Paul asked one of the guards where they could find Jack Sinclair. After checking a roster list he said, “His crew is framing up on the first floor. You’ll have to wear these hardhats if you

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want to go up there. Sorry about that— safety regulations, you know.” Paul and the boys put on the hardhats and headed up to the first floor. They saw half a dozen men working—but Jack was nowhere in sight. One of the carpenters walked over and asked if they needed help. “Yes,” Paul answered, “my name is Paul Barclay. I’m looking for Jack Sinclair.” “Oh, Mr. Barclay! What a pleasure it is to meet you. Jack has spoken of you often. I’m his foreman, John Gates.” “Hi, John,” Paul replied with a smile. “Good to meet you, too. These are my sons, Jim and Aaron. We’re looking for Jack. Do you know where he is?” John nodded at Jim and Aaron. “I wish I did,” he said, turning back to Paul. “I haven’t seen him since we quit for the day on Tuesday. He hasn’t shown up at work for the last two days.” Paul didn’t like the sound of that. “Really? That’s not like Jack! Have you

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reported him missing?” he asked. “Well, no, Mr. Barclay. After all, he is the boss. I figured he must have had some personal matters to take care of. I thought it was best to keep the crew working. We have a deadline on this job, you know.” “Of course,” Paul answered. “But please take my phone number. Will you call me if you hear from him?” “Sure thing, Mr. Barclay,” John replied. “And if you see him first, please have him contact me. He was acting a little strange, and I’m beginning to worry.” “Strange how?” Paul asked. “Well,” John replied, “he wanted me to take a look at an electrical truck in the basement. I did as he asked, but the guards wouldn’t let me near it. When I asked Jack what was going on, he told me to just forget about it for the time being.” **** After turning in their hardhats, the Barclays headed back to the car. “What are

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we going to do now?” asked Aaron. Trying to mask his concern, Paul said, “I don’t know, son. I really don’t know.” On the drive back to Rockdale, Paul was deep in thought. Jim and Aaron, sensing their father’s worry, said very little. Finally, Paul broke the silence. “When we get home, I think I’ll go down to the police station,” he said. “I want to have a long talk with my old friend, Chief Bell.” The boys were relieved. “That’s probably a good idea,” Jim said. Paul dropped off his sons at the house and headed to the police station. He and Roy Bell had been close friends for years. Paul knew that Roy’s advice would be invaluable. Entering the station, Paul stopped a young officer he knew. “Hi, Carl. Do you think the chief can fit me into his schedule today?” “Hello, Mr. Barclay. No, I’m afraid you won’t be able to talk to Chief Bell until

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Monday. He’s out of town attending a police seminar. We don’t expect him back until late Sunday evening.” “Well, thanks anyway, Carl. It’s nothing that can’t wait until Monday,” Paul said as he left the station. I’m probably making a big thing out of nothing, Paul thought as he drove home. Jack is a grown man. Certainly, he doesn’t need to report to me. His foreman is probably right. Jack must be off somewhere taking care of personal business. I’m going to stop worrying about this. **** While waiting for his coffee to perk on Monday morning, Paul snapped on the TV. He yawned as he turned on the local news. What he heard almost made him choke. “In a daring weekend robbery, thieves stole between 27 and 28 million dollars from a Springfield bank. Apparently, the robbers tunneled under the bank from

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the half-constructed Fargo Building next door. Police say they entered the vault through a hole in the floor. “Police believe the heist must have taken months to plan. They estimate that a gang of at least nine to ten members had been necessary to pull off the job. This morning, Channel 6 News learned that an arrest warrant has been issued. Police have targeted one of the contractors on the Fargo Building. Now considered a prime suspect in the case, Jack Sinclair has not been seen since the middle of last week.” Paul felt sick as he stared at the television. He shook his head in disbelief. Then he picked up the telephone and put in a call to Roy Bell.

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CHAPTER 5

The Prime Suspect Paul sat in Chief Bell’s office and told him the full story of last week’s events. Roy listened intently, occasionally interrupting Paul to ask a question. “Believe me, Roy,” Paul pleaded, “Jack couldn’t possibly have done this. He’s the one who suspected that something was fishy in the first place.” “I’ll tell you what, Paul,” Chief Bell said. “I’ll call the chief over in Springfield. Maybe he can squeeze us in this afternoon. Of course, he’s probably working overtime on this bank robbery. But if he has the time, I’ll ride over with you. He needs to hear your story. Then maybe he’ll tell us what evidence they have against your friend.” 28

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Paul was grateful for the offer of help. “That would be great, Roy,” he said. Chief Bell was already dialing the phone. The Springfield Police Department was twice the size of Rockdale’s. Technically, however, the two chiefs were equals. Yet even so, Chief Bell could make no demands of Chief Robert Harvey of Springfield. Chief Harvey agreed to a short meeting that afternoon. When all three men were settled in the Springfield chief’s office, Roy turned to Paul. “Why don’t you tell the Chief your story?” he suggested. Paul told Chief Harvey the whole story—just as he’d told it to Chief Bell. While Paul was speaking, Harvey never said a word. He just stared at Paul with his steely gray eyes. When Paul was finished Chief Harvey stood up and walked to the window. With his back turned to Paul he said,

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“Think about it, Mr. Barclay. Has it ever occurred to you that Sinclair told you that story just so you wouldn’t suspect him?” Paul started to respond, but Harvey turned around and held up his hand to stop him. “It’s a done deal, Mr. Barclay. We have enough evidence to convict your friend Sinclair ten times over.” Paul listened closely. “First of all, it appears that this isn’t the first time Sinclair has been in trouble.” Again, Paul opened his mouth to respond, but the chief kept right on talking. “Sinclair would be a suspect even if he didn’t have a record. His fingerprints are all over the digging tools found in the tunnel. Did you know that he’d just put $5,000 down on a new car to be delivered in Mexico? In his apartment this morning, we found detailed drawings of the tunnel. And he’d made notes estimating the time it would take to reach the vault. Oh—and

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there were also travel brochures and maps of Mexico. It sure looks like your friend was planning to skip the country.” Paul couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But he knew that there was no point in arguing with Chief Harvey. Obviously, the man was convinced that Jack was guilty. To him it was clearly an open-and-shut case. As they left the office, Roy Bell thanked Chief Harvey warmly. Roy and Paul walked to the car without saying a word. They were 10 minutes out of Springfield before Paul finally spoke. “Roy, this is a set-up,” Paul said. “Someone is trying to frame Jack. And I know that Harvey’s your friend, Roy—but he’s allowing the real thieves to get away while he focuses on Jack.” Chief Bell looked doubtful. “How do you explain all the evidence?” he asked. “That’s easy. Let’s suppose Jack was snooping around and got caught. The real

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thieves could easily have planted his fingerprints on the tools in the tunnel. And he probably had his wallet with him. The IDs inside would give the thieves his name and home address. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak into his apartment to plant the notes and the tunnel diagram. And ordering a car would be no big deal.” “That’s all very interesting, Paul,” Roy Bell responded. “But, unfortunately, you can’t prove any of it.” “No, not now I can’t,” Paul said sternly. “But I will, Roy. You can bet on that.”

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CHAPTER 6

Looking for Clues Paul pulled into the station parking lot to drop off the Chief. One of the officers was walking across the lot to his patrol car. He stopped and said, “Chief, you probably haven’t heard the latest news on the bank robbery. The Springfield police picked up Sinclair ten minutes ago. It just came in over the radio.” Chief Bell turned to his friend with a grim smile. “Well, Paul, it looks like you have your work cut out for you.” “You can say that again, Roy,” Paul answered as he waved and drove off. At home, Paul was happy to see that Ann and Pam had returned from their trip. After kissing his wife and daughter, he said, “You missed all the excitement.” 33

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“I guess so,“ Ann replied. “The boys have been telling us all about it.” “Jack’s just been arrested,” Paul told Ann. “Chief Harvey in Springfield is convinced that he’s guilty. I’m afraid that he’s really in a lot of trouble.” Pam interrupted her father. “But Jack would never rob a bank!” she exclaimed. “I know that, dear,” Paul said with a smile. “Now all we have to do is prove it.” “What can we do, Dad?” asked Aaron. “Well, there are a number of things we should do, son. And if we all help out, it will go a lot faster.” Then Jim spoke up. “Jack is like a member of the family, Dad. Just tell us how we can help.” “Okay. You and Aaron call John Gates, Jack’s foreman. Arrange for a time to meet with him. See what he can remember about the two security guards. I figure they had to be part of the robbery team.” “No problem, Dad.”

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“Ann, you and Pam put a call into Bert Littlefield. He’s a private detective that I’ve known for years. Ask him to find out everything he can about Victor Stone.” “Who’s Victor Stone?” Ann asked. “He’s the construction engineer who was in charge of the Fargo job. The way I figure it, someone very high up in the organization had to have planned this. Stone is a strong possibility. And be sure to tell Littlefield to hurry. We need to know something in the next two or three days.” “Great idea, Dad! So what are you going to do?” Pam asked. “I’m going to hire a lawyer to represent Jack. Then the two of us are going to visit him in jail. We need to listen to his side of the story—and find out where he’s been for the past five days.” “Wow! This is getting exciting,” Pam piped up. “Our whole family is working together to solve a crime.” “Yeah,” Jim added. “Let’s just hope

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that we’re successful—for Jack’s sake.” The next morning the family went in three different directions. John Gates had suggested that Jim and Aaron meet him for an early breakfast. It was 6:30 A.M. when the Barclay boys pulled into the Depot Diner. John was waiting for them. They took a corner booth and ordered breakfast. Jim quickly explained the purpose of their visit. “We know that Jack is innocent,” Jim said. “We’re hoping you’ll have some information that could help prove it.” John nodded. “You know, I always thought one of those guards looked familiar. After you called, I really started thinking about it. Then it came to me. It was Doug Harrington! He was a senior in high school when I was a freshman. He didn’t know me, of course. But he was captain of the football team, so everybody knew him. Doug had a scar on his chin, so that’s how I recognized him. He’s a

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bit heavier now, but there’s no doubt about it. It was definitely Doug.” “That’s very helpful, John. Have you had any other thoughts?” Jim asked. “Yeah,” John replied. “Remember that truck I told you about? The one that was parked in the basement? I remembered the name painted on it—Dunn Electrical.” “Great,” Jim said. “Anything else?” “Look—I brought my old high school directory for you,” John said. “It lists Harrington’s old address. I thought that might help you find him.” “Thanks, John. I’ll tell my dad to give Jack your regards,” Jim said. “Please do. And tell him not to worry about the job. The crew is working very hard, and we’re right on schedule.” Bert Littlefield told Ann that two days wasn’t enough time to complete a detailed search. But he promised to do his best. As she and Pam drove off, Ann wondered how Paul was making out.

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CHAPTER 7

Jack Tells His Story Paul spent part of the morning in Ken Goodrich’s office. He and Ken had been friends for many years. And Ken had the reputation of being just about the best criminal lawyer in the area. After agreeing to represent Jack, he immediately got on the phone to the Springfield police. A meeting with his new client was set for early that afternoon. Ken and Paul drove to Springfield, had lunch, and were at the police station at one o’clock. They were seated at a table in an interrogation room when Jack was led in. He looked awful. In the eight days since Paul had seen him, Jack had lost at least five pounds. He hadn’t shaved in days and

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looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. After hugging Jack, Paul introduced him to his attorney. Jack nodded toward Ken. Then he turned to Paul and said, “You always seem to be bailing me out of trouble.” “Hey, don’t worry about that now, Jack,” Paul responded warmly. “Just tell us what happened—and where you’ve been these last few days.” “I’ll tell you everything I can—but my memory is pretty foggy. I think that I must have been drugged.” “Just do the best that you can, Jack,” Goodrich said. “Every little bit of information may be important.” Jack told his story. “Some time after midnight Tuesday, I sneaked into the Fargo Building. There was a strange truck parked in the basement that I wanted to check out. I saw someone in the truck— probably one of the guards. When I got closer, I saw that the truck was

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blocking a big hole in a fake wall! Then I climbed through the hole and looked around. Some men were removing dirt from a long tunnel.” At that point, Ken Goodrich interrupted him. “Could you describe any of the men you saw?” “No, they were too far away.” “What happened then?” “Someone must have hit me hard. The next thing I remember is waking up in a small room with a splitting headache. My hands and feet were tied. I could hear faint voices coming from another room, but I couldn’t make out the words.” “And then?” “That’s about it. The next thing I remember is the police picking me up. All I was doing was trying to get into my apartment. My mind was a fuzzy blur. I don’t even remember how I got there. All I wanted was to wash up and get some clean clothes before going to the police. I

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didn’t even know the bank had been robbed until they charged me.” “But, Jack,” Goodrich said, “you were gone from Wednesday morning until Monday morning. That’s five days.” Jack became agitated. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Mr. Goodrich,” he said. “It’s all a blur. I just can’t remember.” “Okay, Jack, don’t worry. We believe you,” Ken replied. “Is there anything else you can tell us?” Jack thought for a minute and said, “There’s one thing. The truck that I mentioned said Dunn Electrical on the side panel. I thought that was odd since no electricians were working on the job yet.” Ken Goodrich and Paul thought about everything that Jack had told them. “I guess that’s it for now, Jack,” the lawyer said. “It sure sounds as if you were set up. I’ll try to arrange for a bail hearing so we can get you out of here.” As they were leaving, Paul said, “Hang

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in there, Jack. We’ll work it out.” That evening the Barclays sat around the dinner table comparing notes. “I guess the best lead we’ve come up with is this Doug Harrington character,” Paul said. “Tomorrow I’ll check out his high school address. We’ll see where that leads. It’s my guess that he was definitely in on the robbery.” Ann looked worried. “Why are you doing this on your own, Paul? Shouldn’t you be getting the police involved in this?” she asked. “Sure—as soon as we have something positive, Ann. But right now we still can’t prove that Jack is innocent.” “Oh, there’s something else,” Ann added. “I checked to see if Victor Stone was still working on the Fargo project. I was told that he’s on a leave of absence due to illness.” Paul raised his eyebrows. Isn’t that convenient? he thought to himself.

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CHAPTER 8

Aaron’s Discovery The directory John Gates had given Jim was from Westfield High School. Westfield was about 25 miles north of Springfield. It had once been a thriving industrial city built around several big woolen mills. Unfortunately for the town, the mills had closed and moved down south many years ago. The lower wages and taxes there had increased the owners’ profits. But Westfield’s crime rate had risen right along with unemployment. The little town’s best days were behind it now. Paul had a plan. He was afraid the locals might not cooperate with his search for Harrington. So he would pretend to be a reporter doing an article on former star

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athletes. He’d ask for information about the athletes’ past glory days, where they were now, and how they were doing. He figured that this was as good a ploy as anything else. Jim and Aaron wanted to go along. Paul had agreed—but only if they waited in the car while he made his inquiries. Not being familiar with Westfield, it took Paul a while to locate Cutter Street. Finally, he found the right number. He parked down the street from the old duplex and went up to the door. On the third ring a man in his 60s answered. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want it,” the man said bluntly. “No, sir, I’m not selling anything,” Paul answered. “I’m trying to locate someone who used to live at this address. Doug Harrington is his name.” “I’ve been here for five years now. There’s never been anyone by that name at this address.”

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“He was a young guy when he lived here. That was 12 years ago,” Paul said. “I can’t help you. But you might try old man Perkins across the street. He’s lived there for 20 years or more.” And with that, he slammed the door shut. Paul crossed the street and knocked on the door. To his surprise, the man who answered looked years younger than his neighbor across the street. “Mr. Perkins?” Paul asked politely. The man looked annoyed. “Yeah, what do you want?” he growled. “Well, sir, I’m trying to locate Doug Harrington,” Paul replied. “He used to live across the street.” “What do you want him for?” Perkins asked, his voice still gruff. “Is he in some kind of trouble?” “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Paul responded. “I’m doing a story on former high school athletes, and I wanted to be sure to include him.”

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Suddenly, the man looked interested. “Oh, why didn’t you say so? That boy was one of the finest football players ever to come out of Westfield High.” “Do you know where he lives now?” Paul asked. Perkins rambled on as if he hadn’t heard Paul’s question. “He played tight end, you know. The kid had great hands. If the pass was anywhere near him, that boy could catch it.” “Yes. So I’ve been told. Do you know where he lives now?” Paul asked again. “Yeah, he moved to Springfield. He’s got a trailer on some land just north of town. I’ll get you the address.” Paul thanked Mr. Perkins and headed back to the car. “I’ve got the address,” he said to the boys as he opened the door. “But, Dad—exactly what are we going to do when we get there?” Aaron asked. “I’m not really sure yet, Aaron,” Paul said with a slight smile. “But we’ll think

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of something. Don’t we always?” They found Harrington’s place on an acre of land off a country road. The trailer was parked in a far corner, up a short driveway. To call the place “seedy” would be complimentary. The whole property was littered with old vehicles, some broken-down farm machinery, and four shabby sheds or outbuildings. Was Doug Harrington now running a junkyard? There was no car in the driveway and the place looked deserted. Jim was curious. “Let’s check out those outbuildings,“ he suggested. “Sounds good to me,” Aaron agreed. “But just what are we looking for?” “Anything that can connect Harrington to the Springfield Bank,” Paul replied. He pulled off the road near some trees. As they got out of the car, Paul said, “This will go a lot quicker if each of us checks out a different building.” Dodging junk along the way, Aaron ran

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toward the largest shed. He swung open the unlocked door and peered in. As a shaft of light illuminated the pitch-black interior, Aaron stepped inside. Like the yard outside, the shed was filled with trash. Near the back wall a gray canvas was draped over a large object. Pulling the canvas aside, Aaron found himself staring at a panel truck. The words Dunn Electrical were painted on the side. Then the old shed door closed behind him. Aaron whirled around and saw a bulky man glaring at him. “Who the heck are you?” the man growled. “And what do you think you’re doing in here?” Aaron was frozen in fear. He tried to yell but nothing came out. It was Doug Harrington! Aaron tried to reach the door by darting around him. But before he could get away, a large, meaty arm caught him by the neck. Aaron struggled to breathe as the grip on his windpipe

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tightened. He was close to passing out when the door of the shed flew open. Paul flew into a rage at the sight of Harrington trying to strangle his son. He attacked the big man with a fury that surprised even Jim. The fight lasted less than a minute. Finally, Jim said, “He’s had enough, Dad.” As Paul eased up, Jim pulled his father off the larger man. By now, Aaron had caught his breath. “Look what I found,” he said. Paul and Jim stared at the Dunn Electrical truck. They knew it was the evidence they needed to tie Harrington to the robbery. Once their prisoner was safely tied up, Paul called the Springfield police on his cell phone.

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CHAPTER 9

Making a Deal For the second time in the past few days, Paul took a chair in Chief Harvey’s office. The piercing look in the chief’s gray eyes hadn’t changed. But now there was a softer tone to his voice. “Normally, Mr. Barclay, I’m not too happy when civilians interfere with our work. But in this case, I have to say you did a good job. Tracking down Harrington and finding the truck was good detective work—but it was foolhardy.” “I’m sorry, Chief,” Paul said sincerely. “I guess I should have called you first.” “You’re right on that score, Paul. Think about it. If Harrington had had a gun, I might well have had three murders to

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investigate—along with a bank holdup.” “What about Jack Sinclair?” Paul asked. “Will you release him now?” “Not yet. First, I need to hear what Harrington has to say. I’ll keep Chief Bell up to date on what’s happening. Why don’t you stay in touch with him?” Aaron shook his head in wonder as they left the police station. “Boy, this has been quite a day!” he exclaimed. “We not only tracked down Doug Harrington, we even apprehended him.” “Yeah,” Jim added. “And in the process we discovered that Dad can still throw a wicked right hook.” Father and sons were all smiles as they climbed in the car. **** Doug Harrington was waiting in one of the interrogation rooms at the station house. Robert Harvey came in with two cups of coffee. He offered one to Harrington and then sat down across the

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table from him. For a few moments the two men sipped their coffee in silence. Then the Chief spoke up. “Mr. Harrington, I’d advise you to listen closely to what I’m going to say. I’m only going to say it once. We know that you were in on the robbery. There are witnesses who can identify you as one of the phony security guards. The truck that blocked the hole in the fake wall was found hidden on your property. Make no mistake—you’re looking at 15 years behind bars, maybe more.” Doug Harrington didn’t say a word. He just stared down at his coffee cup. “But there may be a way out for you. We don’t think that you planned the job. And we know that you didn’t do it alone. What we really want is the top guy. We’re willing to cut you a deal.” For the first time, Harrington raised his eyes and looked at the Chief. Harvey continued. “You tell us

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everything you know about the heist— names, how the money was split, every little detail. If you do, I’ll recommend a greatly reduced sentence.” “Do you mean it? I’d serve only a few months in jail? No more time than that?” Doug Harrington asked. “I’d say less than a year,” the Chief confirmed. “But there’s just one more thing you’ll have to do.” “I knew there was a catch. What’s that?” Doug asked suspiciously. “You’d have to return your share of the loot. As I’m sure you can imagine, the bank has every right to get its money back.” Then Chief Harvey got up to leave. “Think about it. You’re awfully young to spend the next 15 years behind bars,” he said on his way to the door. Before the Chief had left, however, Harrington spoke up. “You’ve got a deal, Chief,” he said. **** 53

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When Paul and the boys arrived home, Ann was bubbling over with excitement. Aaron tried to tell her about capturing Doug Harrington, but Ann was intent on telling her own story first. “Bert Littlefield called an hour ago. He thought you might want to know what he had discovered so far. It seems that Victor Stone has a serious gambling problem. He was deeply in debt to loan sharks and bookies. One bookie, in fact, was holding a $20,000 marker! He told Littlefield that Stone paid off that debt on Monday.” “No kidding!” Paul exclaimed. “Isn’t that interesting?” “And there’s more,” Ann went on excitedly. “After I got off the phone with Littlefield, I did some further research on Stone. He hasn’t shown up anywhere. Apex Construction doesn’t know where he is, and there’s no answer at his home. He seems to have disappeared.” “Probably with millions of dollars of

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stolen money,” Paul said in disgust. “Now do you want to hear about our day?” Jim asked. “Go ahead, dear. I’m all ears.” “We were looking for evidence at Harrington’s place,” Jim began excitedly. “Then he came home and caught Aaron.” “Yeah, Mom,” Aaron interrupted. “And he was trying to strangle me when Dad burst in and beat the crap out of him.” Ann pretended to be shocked by his choice of words. “Aaron, do you have to use such crude language?” she sighed. “Okay, Mom,” Aaron said with a laugh. “Dad gave him a sound thrashing. Is that better?” Pam giggled. “Oh, Aaron! It may be better language,” she said, “but it’s not nearly as descriptive!”

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CHAPTER 10

Dishonor Among Thieves Doug Harrington looked around the room nervously. He was surrounded by law enforcement personnel. As he started to speak, several tape recorders could be heard snapping on. “I know you guys want the name of the person who planned the bank job. But I can’t give you that. I never met the man or even heard his name. None of us did. We were all recruited by a small-time hood named Jerry Blake. He was the only one who knew the boss.” Chief Harvey, who was conducting the session, looked at Harrington sternly. “Is that so? What were the details of your arrangement?” he barked. 56

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“Blake was looking for eight guys to do about ten days of work. He promised to pay us $500,000 when the job was done. We had to sign on before we were told any more. I agreed to it because it sounded like easy money. The first step was to build that fake wall. But we had to wait to do that until the building inspectors approved the basement. Then we went to work and had the wall up in one weekend.” At that point, Harvey interrupted him. “That’s a big job for one weekend.” “Yes, sir,” Harrington replied. “But you’ve got to remember that a group of us worked all through the night. The thought was that no one would notice ten missing feet in such a wide building. After the fake wall was built, we started working on the tunnel.” “And during this whole time period your only contact was with Jerry Blake?” Harvey asked. “Yes, sir,” Harrington said firmly. “We parked the truck in the corner to block the 57

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hole. My job, along with one other guy, was to make sure that no one came near the truck.” “Was Jack Sinclair part of your group?” Harvey asked. “No!” Harrington replied. “We caught him snooping around there one night and knocked him out. Framing him was Blake’s idea. He figured that if the police were convinced it was Sinclair, they wouldn’t be looking for us.” “What happened after the robbery?” the Chief prodded. “We loaded the money into the Dunn Electrical truck and drove across town to an old warehouse,” Harrington responded. “It was there that Jerry Blake paid us off, as promised. He put the rest of the money in his car and drove off. I never saw him again. After that, I took the truck to my place and hid it in a shed.” “Mr. Harrington,” Chief Harvey went on, “did any of you know how much

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money was taken from the bank?” “No, sir—not exactly,” Harrington replied. “We were told that the take was approximately 10 million. The deal was that the guys who did it would split up half and the brains behind the heist would get the other half.” “Would it surprise you to know that 26 million dollars was actually stolen?” Harvey asked. Harrington frowned. “Yeah, I heard that on the TV,” he grumbled. “We sure got taken on that one.” Then Chief Harvey’s assistant came in and interrupted the interview. “Excuse me, Chief, but I thought you’d want to know this right away. We just pulled a body out of the river. The ID in the guy’s wallet says his name was Jerry Blake. He’d been shot twice at close range.” “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Harvey said with a sigh. Jack was released by the Springfield

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Police Department that afternoon. It was the second time in his young life that he owed his freedom to Paul Barclay. **** The next day the false wall was torn down, and work on the Fargo Building continued as usual. Thanks to Doug Harrington’s testimony, most of the gang members were quickly arrested. The previous evening, Paul had given Chief Harvey the information he had about Victor Stone. Now the police believed that Stone had planned the job and murdered Jerry Blake. Everyone assumed that he’d fled the country with more than 20 million dollars. Six months later, Victor Stone was still at large.

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CHAPTER 11

The Crook Is Caught It was a snowy December morning when Paul got an unexpected call from Roy Bell. “Good morning, Paul. How are you doing?” “Well, I’m just fine, Roy,” Paul replied. “What’s up?” “I have some interesting news for you,” Chief Bell said. “I thought you might like to know that Victor Stone was arrested yesterday.” “No kidding!” Paul exclaimed. “Yes,” Bell continued. “He was living in Vancouver, Canada, under an assumed name. He’ll be brought back here tomorrow to stand trial for the Springfield bank robbery.” 61

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“Will the bank recover its money?” Paul asked. “A good part of it, I think,” Bell replied. “Of course, by now Stone’s probably spent at least a part of it.” “Why aren’t they trying him for the murder of Jerry Blake?” Paul asked. “They would in a moment—if they had any evidence. But what they don’t have is the murder weapon. How about it, Paul? Maybe I should recommend that the Barclay family be put on the case,” Bell said with a laugh. Paul laughed, too. “Don’t bother, Roy,” he said. “This family is out of the detective business for a while.”

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COMPREHENSION QUESTIONS Who and Where? 1. Who had once been a poacher in the Florida Everglades? 2. Who first suggested that the basement might have a false wall? 3. Who claimed to have “enough evidence to convict Jack Sinclair ten times over”? 4. Where did the police find detailed drawings of the tunnel? 5. Who was Jack Sinclair’s foreman?

Remembering Details 1. What new structure was Jack helping to build in downtown Springfield? 2. How much money was stolen from the Springfield bank? 3. What did Bert Littlefield do for a living? 4. In all, how long was Jack missing? 5. Where did Aaron find the Dunn Electrical panel truck?

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