garbled it could have come from Mars. But there was another sound.
"And you do want to - "
"Stop there!" Frank said.
Joe already had. There had been two high-pitched squeals in the background. He rewound and played again. They listened closely to the squeals.
"They sound like screams!" Joe said.
Frank shook his head. "My guess is the scraping of a table leg against the floor, or some feedback into the mike."
"Or a dog barking, or an elephant bleating, or the squeak of grease as this nut twirls his handlebar mustache." Joe slumped into the brown leather chair by his father's desk. "It could be anything! That scrambler is mixing up any noise that comes through the mike."
Something was dawning on Frank, but he couldn't tell Joe. Not just yet. "I guess we're going to have to do what the man says, Joe," he said in a loud voice.
Joe looked at him as if he'd just lost his mind. "But we don't know - "
"We'll find him. I've got to go check the secret phone file."
"Secret phone - "
Joe's answer was interrupted by the loud tramping of footsteps on the living room floor.
"Hey! What's going on?" a voice boomed.
Frank ran out of the room, leaving a bewildered Joe to follow him. "Chet!" he called.
When he got to the living room Chet Morton was standing there, dumbfounded. His broad shoulders had gone slack, making his potbelly jut out even more than usual. Drooping from his left hand was a half-eaten slice of pizza. "What did you guys do to this place?"
Behind him Phil Cohen was squeezing his thin body behind an armchair to unplug a lamp whose bulb had shattered. Biff Hooper was standing on the opposite side of the room from Chet. Together they looked like two useless pillars of a building that had collapsed around them.
"I wish," Frank said with a rueful smile. He quickly told them what had happened. They listened with a mixture of dread, disbelief, and anger.
"We'll trace the call!" Chet said, jutting his pizza forward to emphasize his point. "My dad knows a guy who works for the phone company - "
"Phil," Frank said, cutting Chet off, "can I talk to you out in the backyard?"
Tilting his head quizzically, Phil said, "Sure."
Frank turned to his brother. "Joe, you and the guys straighten up. We'll be right back."
Frank moved through the house with Phil close behind. Together they stepped into the backyard.
"What's this all about?" Phil asked.
"I need your expertise," Frank replied. "About electronics."
He pulled open the garage door and reached around to flick on the light. Mrs. Hardy's car stood on the left side, dwarfed by the shelves that reached upward all around it. Each shelf was stuffed with boxes and boxes of tools, gadgets, and equipment. Frank reached into an unmarked metal box on a bottom shelf.
"I can't believe you can find anything in this mess," Phil commented, shaking his head.
"Actually, it's very easy," Frank replied. "The trick is living in this house for eighteen years." He pulled out a long, sturdy metal loop with a rubber handle and a small white gauge.
Phil asked, "What are you going to do with an inductance coil?"
"Can it detect a current hidden behind a hard surface, like a wall?"
Phil shrugged. "Sure. It's a closed electric circuit with no juice of its own. But if you hold it near an electric circuit, it picks up current, and the meter jumps. What do you need it for, Frank?"
"Follow me," Frank answered.
He ran back to the house. Holding the coil, Phil followed him to the living room. There, Joe, Chet, and Biff were setting up furniture.
"What's going on?" Joe asked.
"No clues back there," Frank answered.
"I could have told you that," Joe said, giving Frank a bewildered look.
But Frank was walking away from him toward a small table by the couch. On the table was a message pad, a pen, and a telephone. Wordlessly, Frank looked at Phil and pointed to the wall behind the table.
Phil nodded knowingly and began to run the inductance coil along the wall.
Before anyone could ask any
"And you do want to - "
"Stop there!" Frank said.
Joe already had. There had been two high-pitched squeals in the background. He rewound and played again. They listened closely to the squeals.
"They sound like screams!" Joe said.
Frank shook his head. "My guess is the scraping of a table leg against the floor, or some feedback into the mike."
"Or a dog barking, or an elephant bleating, or the squeak of grease as this nut twirls his handlebar mustache." Joe slumped into the brown leather chair by his father's desk. "It could be anything! That scrambler is mixing up any noise that comes through the mike."
Something was dawning on Frank, but he couldn't tell Joe. Not just yet. "I guess we're going to have to do what the man says, Joe," he said in a loud voice.
Joe looked at him as if he'd just lost his mind. "But we don't know - "
"We'll find him. I've got to go check the secret phone file."
"Secret phone - "
Joe's answer was interrupted by the loud tramping of footsteps on the living room floor.
"Hey! What's going on?" a voice boomed.
Frank ran out of the room, leaving a bewildered Joe to follow him. "Chet!" he called.
When he got to the living room Chet Morton was standing there, dumbfounded. His broad shoulders had gone slack, making his potbelly jut out even more than usual. Drooping from his left hand was a half-eaten slice of pizza. "What did you guys do to this place?"
Behind him Phil Cohen was squeezing his thin body behind an armchair to unplug a lamp whose bulb had shattered. Biff Hooper was standing on the opposite side of the room from Chet. Together they looked like two useless pillars of a building that had collapsed around them.
"I wish," Frank said with a rueful smile. He quickly told them what had happened. They listened with a mixture of dread, disbelief, and anger.
"We'll trace the call!" Chet said, jutting his pizza forward to emphasize his point. "My dad knows a guy who works for the phone company - "
"Phil," Frank said, cutting Chet off, "can I talk to you out in the backyard?"
Tilting his head quizzically, Phil said, "Sure."
Frank turned to his brother. "Joe, you and the guys straighten up. We'll be right back."
Frank moved through the house with Phil close behind. Together they stepped into the backyard.
"What's this all about?" Phil asked.
"I need your expertise," Frank replied. "About electronics."
He pulled open the garage door and reached around to flick on the light. Mrs. Hardy's car stood on the left side, dwarfed by the shelves that reached upward all around it. Each shelf was stuffed with boxes and boxes of tools, gadgets, and equipment. Frank reached into an unmarked metal box on a bottom shelf.
"I can't believe you can find anything in this mess," Phil commented, shaking his head.
"Actually, it's very easy," Frank replied. "The trick is living in this house for eighteen years." He pulled out a long, sturdy metal loop with a rubber handle and a small white gauge.
Phil asked, "What are you going to do with an inductance coil?"
"Can it detect a current hidden behind a hard surface, like a wall?"
Phil shrugged. "Sure. It's a closed electric circuit with no juice of its own. But if you hold it near an electric circuit, it picks up current, and the meter jumps. What do you need it for, Frank?"
"Follow me," Frank answered.
He ran back to the house. Holding the coil, Phil followed him to the living room. There, Joe, Chet, and Biff were setting up furniture.
"What's going on?" Joe asked.
"No clues back there," Frank answered.
"I could have told you that," Joe said, giving Frank a bewildered look.
But Frank was walking away from him toward a small table by the couch. On the table was a message pad, a pen, and a telephone. Wordlessly, Frank looked at Phil and pointed to the wall behind the table.
Phil nodded knowingly and began to run the inductance coil along the wall.
Before anyone could ask any
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