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staring at Danny. "Maybe one of these guys saw something." All three of them shook their heads. Danny knelt down next to Frank and Joe.
    "We were just bringing in a load of bags when we heard somebody hollering about an emergency and stopping the carousel. I hit the shut-off switch and came running."
    "This is Danny Minifee," Joe told his brother. "I met him in the employee lounge earlier."
    "These other guys are Abel Cantu and Evander Renshaw," Danny said.
    Frank smiled weakly. "Sorry we had to meet under such strange circumstances."
    "Hey, Danny," one of the two men said. Frank wasn't sure which name went with which face. "We'd better get back to work. People are waiting for their luggage."
    "Are you going to be okay?" Danny asked Frank.
    "My head hurts," Frank responded, "but other than that, I'm fine. Just give me a hand off this thing and you can start it up again."
    Joe and Danny helped Frank climb off the luggage carousel, and then Danny went back to the loading area. When the carousel started moving again and suitcases began to roll out, the small crowd lost interest in Frank and turned back to the important task of pouncing on their bags.
    A paramedic team showed up with a stretcher and an emergency aid kit. Frank faded into the stream of travelers, pulling his brother with him.
    "You really should let those guys take a look at you," Joe protested as they moved away from the baggage claim area. "There's no time for that," Frank insisted. "We have to get back on the trail before it gets cold." He told Joe about his discovery in the storage room. "We've got to get security down to that storage room right away. Whoever whacked me on the head isn't going to wait around to see if I tell anybody about the stash of stolen luggage. They'll move the stuff out as fast as they can."
    The Hardys headed straight for the Eddings Air offices, brushed past the startled receptionist, and burst into the security chiefs office.
    "What is it now?" Forrester barked as he rose out of his chair.
    Frank quickly repeated his story. Forrester listened in silence, tapping a pencil on his desk the whole time.
    "So you saw some luggage in a storeroom," Forrester said, "and got conked on the head. From that you conclude that you uncovered a secret cache of stolen bags and were attacked by one of the culprits.
    "But you don't know if the bags were stolen," the security chief continued, "and you didn't actually see anybody hit you. Are you sure you didn't just bump into something?"
    "Oh, right," Joe retorted hotly. "Then he staggered out of the storage room, made it all the way to the baggage carousel, and keeled over onto it." He turned to his brother. "Let's go. We'll bring back some of the evidence and stack it up in here."
    "Now, hold on," Forrester responded, his voice rising. "At this point I'm ready to follow any lead—no matter how slim. Show me this pile of loot you found."
    Frank led the way. He made a few wrong turns in the maze of corridors but finally found the storeroom. He knew it was the right one because the motorized cart he had commandeered earlier was still parked nearby. "This is it," he said, gesturing to the closed door. Joe tried the door. "It's locked." "That's strange," Frank said. "It was open when I was here before."
    Forrester pulled a large key ring out of his suit-coat pocket, flipped through the assortment of keys, slipped one into the lock, and pushed open the door. Murky darkness greeted them.
    Frank brushed past the security chief and hit the light switch on the left-hand wall. The harsh overhead lights glinted off the sparkling clean linoleum floor, revealing a wide-open space with absolutely nothing in it. "This is exactly what I was afraid would happen," Frank said bitterly. "We wasted too much time. They've already moved the stuff." Forrester shook his head and sighed. "I know you boys are trying to help, and maybe you can help if you stick to the program." He directed his gaze at Frank. "I wouldn't mention