A Game Called Chaos Read Online Free Page A

us.”
    â€œWhy should I do that?” Rosenberg asked, sounding suspicious.
    â€œBecause we want to help Royal out, just like you,” Joe said. “And if we do, you might benefit.”
    Rosenberg pulled a piece of paper out of hisdesk drawer. “You boys make a good team,” he said, handing the paper to Frank.
    Frank scanned the paper. “Mind if we keep this?” he asked.
    â€œGo ahead,” Rosenberg said. “I can always print another.”
    Frank nodded, then said to Joe, “We’d better check in with the police.”
    â€œRight,” Joe said. “Here’s our number in case you need to reach us.” He scribbled the phone number of the van on a piece of paper and handed it to Rosenberg.
    Rosenberg stood as the Hardys left his office. “Tell the cops I was helpful,” he called after the brothers. “I don’t want any trouble.”
    When they reached the van, Frank took the wheel and handed the paper to Joe. “See what you make of the note at the bottom,” he said.
    â€œAnother riddle!” Joe said.
    The King is in the counting house; the Queen is in the dungeon. Their fortunes may be reversed when all the roosting bats come home. Side you with Ignorance or Knowledge? Seek not the apprentice, but the master.
    â€œThis certainly seems to imply that Royal is in the money,” Joe said. “But who is the Queen inthe dungeon? Chelsea? She certainly is in hot water.”
    â€œMaybe,” Frank agreed. “If she found Royal—and/or the game prototype—her fortunes would certainly be reversed. There’s so much we don’t know about this case yet. I hope Chelsea can shed more light on it.”
    Joe nodded, then said, “The return address on both the messages Royal sent are different, but I’m betting they came from the same machine. Do you think Phil could trace them?”
    Frank smiled. “You bet he could. Call him and put him on it. I’m sure he’ll take the time to help his cousin, even though he’s working.”
    Joe called Phil Cohen on their car phone and gave him the info he needed. As they talked, Frank picked up some burgers and drinks from a drive-through. When they arrived back at the condo, the sun was setting and Winters’s car was gone. They didn’t see any signs of the police, either. They found Chelsea sitting on a picnic bench by the parking lot; she looked tired.
    â€œThe cops wouldn’t let me stay in the condo,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure where you guys would end up, so I just hung out here.”
    â€œToo bad they kicked you out,” Joe said. “I was hoping to poke around Royal’s place a bit more.”
    â€œI did some more snooping while you were gone,” Chelsea said. “But I didn’t turn up anything useful.”
    â€œWe brought you some food,” Frank said, handing Chelsea a bag with a burger and drink. “We also put in a call to Phil, to see if he could trace your e-mail and another one that was sent to Rosenberg.”
    â€œGreat. Thanks,” she said, managing a weak smile. “I’m beat. Why don’t we head back to my place and eat there. You can fill me in on what you found.”
    â€œGood idea,” said Joe.
    They all piled into the van and headed to Chelsea’s apartment, which wasn’t far away. Her home was both newer and smaller than Royal’s, and it didn’t have a view of the river.
    The three of them finished eating, and then the Hardys filled Chelsea in on what they’d found out. Afterward she told them what had happened at the condo after they’d rushed off to see Rosenberg.
    â€œBasically, the cops questioned Winters and me,” she said. “He stuck to the story he’d told us—except when he told it to the police, he left out his being inside the condo. I just told the police the truth. Since they knew I’d been worried about Royal,