A Game Called Chaos Read Free

sliding-glass doors that led onto a balcony that overlooked the river. Royal apparently used the room as a workplace, too; a computer sat atop an old desk near the far wall. The whole place looked as though a hurricane had hit it.
    Papers lay scattered all over the floor. The drawers of the desk had been pulled out, emptied, and left open. Pictures hung crooked on the walls, as if someone had searched behind them. The cushions had been removed from the overstuffed sectional couch and left on the rug. Looking toward the adjoining dining-room/kitchen area, Joe could see that someone had searched the pantry, too.
    â€œChelsea, did the police search the condo when you called them?” Frank asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” she replied. “They said they’d checked and had seen no sign of foul play.”
    â€œThen my guess is that whoever we heard in this room a minute ago ransacked the place,” Frank said. He bent down and examined the lock on the outside door. “Looks like it’s been picked by someone who doesn’t really know what he’sdoing. Plenty of fresh scratches around the lock hole.”
    A subtle movement on the far end of the balcony caught Joe’s attention. One of the sliding doors had been left slightly ajar. “Look,” Joe cried, pointing to a figure on the balcony. “There he is!”

2 Royal Friends and Foes
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    The Hardys sprang into action, bolting across the room and pushing open the sliding door. When the man on the balcony turned and saw them, he jumped over the railing.
    â€œHe must have made it onto the fire escape,” Joe said. “I’ll follow. You try to stop him out front.”
    â€œRight!” Frank replied. He darted back through the apartment, almost knocking Chelsea over as he headed for the front door.
    Joe was right—there was a fire escape about six feet below the balcony. By the time he leaped onto it, the culprit had reached the ground and was beginning to run toward the parking lot.
    There was no way Frank would reach the guyin time if he had a car nearby. Joe had only one thing to do. Climbing over the railing of the fire escape, he tried to pick a soft-looking spot on the manicured lawn below. Then he jumped.
    The ground didn’t turn out to be as soft as he’d hoped, and Joe had the wind knocked out of him. He hadn’t broken anything, though. “Hey!” he called after the man he was chasing. The man looked back and stumbled a bit, but continued running.
    Joe scrambled to his feet and resumed the chase. The man was angling for the far corner of the parking lot now, and Joe knew that would give Frank and him a chance. As Joe hit the asphalt parking lot, he spotted Frank coming out of the front door. The culprit hadn’t seen Frank because he was making a beeline for the lone car parked on the far side of the lot.
    The man reached the car, a white Toyota compact, and fumbled with his keys. Frank got there just as the man finally got the door unlocked. “Hold it!” said Frank, leaning on the car door so it couldn’t be opened wide enough for the man to get in.
    The man spun and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. Frank balled up his fist, ready to throw a punch if the guy made a false move. As Joe reached the car, the man said plaintively, “I give up! Don’t hurt me!”
    Joe almost laughed, but Frank remained stern. “Who are you? What were you doing in Royal’s condo?”
    The man relaxed a bit. “I . . . I could ask you the same thing,” he said.
    â€œLook, you,” Joe said, taking a menacing step forward, “don’t give us any trouble.”
    The man backed up and raised his hands again, even though it was obvious to both Hardys that he had no idea how to defend himself in a fight. He was only about five-foot-eight and had curly reddish hair and a rectangular-shaped face. He wore a gray hooded sweatshirt and