over to the open side of the warehouse. He was silhouetted against the darkening sky, easing the machine down to the end of the loading bay.
The van backed up to the dock, then Singh and one of the other guys stepped out of the back doors, carrying something between them. Neither Frank nor Joe could see it clearly. But it seemed to be a collapsible metal frame on wheels.
They set it up on the floor of the bay. Several grunts later, they had the box on their collapsible stretcher and wheeled it into their van.
Singh waved goodbye to the manager, then he took off.
After driving the forklift back to the far wall, the warehouse manager strolled back to his office.
joe could hardly wait for him to close the door. He'd found a crowbar, and he was itching to get the top off the mystery crate. He popped out of his hiding place.
Frank appeared, too, and headed past Joe to the door. "I'm going to tell Shauna what's going on," he whispered. "She's probably getting worried out there."
"Uh, right," Joe agreed. He tapped the crowbar in his open palm. "Well, I'll get started on the crate."
"Just do it quietly," Frank said. "Any sound of splintering wood will bring our friend out."
As if on cue, a muffled noise came from inside the office — the sounds of a war. Joe grinned as he heard a cavalry bugle, gunshots, and war cries. "He must have a TV in there," he said. "As long as the shooting keeps up, we can afford a little noise."
Nothing appeared to be stirring outside — then Frank caught a flicker of movement. It was Shauna, peeking round the corner of the building.
"Frank!" she gasped. "I didn't know what had happened to you."
"We pulled a switcheroo," he explained to her. "The box they left with wasn't the box they came for."
"Where's Joe?" Shauna wanted to know.
"Inside, opening the real crate. We want to know what these guys were supposed to get."
Curious, Shauna started toward the door. Frank gently took her arm to stop her. "We need you out here still. Our box isn't going to fool those guys very long — just till they open it up. Keep an eye out for them. As soon as you see them coming, warn us. Okay?"
Shauna pouted for only a second but then had to admit that Frank was right. "But I want a blow-by-blow description," she warned.
Frank grinned. "Joe has an instant camera. He'll take pictures."
He went back inside to bring his brother up to date. Joe had loosened all the nails on three sides of the box, and was working on the last one. He chuckled when Frank told him of his promise. "Well, I've got the camera right here," he said, touching a pocket in his summer-weight jacket. "I suppose we'll need the evidence, anyway."
Joe pried up the last of the nails, then silently pulled the lid of the crate free. He propped the lid against a pile of boxes, then turned back to watch Frank burrow through packing material.
"So, what is it?" Joe asked.
Frank had finally scooped enough of the packing stuff out of the way and stared down.
"Would you believe a coffin?" he asked.
Chapter 11
FRANK AND JOE both leaned in and began sweeping the packing material out with their arms. Together, they cleaned off the whole top, creating a snowstorm of polystyrene peanuts.
The box inside the crate was dull silver in color, about seven feet long and three feet wide. The top was in two sections, with a hairline crack between them.
As he stared down at the grim-looking shape, Joe Hardy had to admit that his brother's first guess was right. They were looking at a coffin.
"Well, this explains what Singh was talking about," Frank said. "Remember when he was talking with the manager? He said something like, 'Sadness is our business.' "
Joe nodded. "Yeah. I guess if we looked up Forte Brothers in the phone book we'd find out that they're funeral directors."
"Probably," Frank agreed. He stared at the coffin for a moment, poked against the top, and then looked over at his brother. "You have your Swiss army knife? I need a
The van backed up to the dock, then Singh and one of the other guys stepped out of the back doors, carrying something between them. Neither Frank nor Joe could see it clearly. But it seemed to be a collapsible metal frame on wheels.
They set it up on the floor of the bay. Several grunts later, they had the box on their collapsible stretcher and wheeled it into their van.
Singh waved goodbye to the manager, then he took off.
After driving the forklift back to the far wall, the warehouse manager strolled back to his office.
joe could hardly wait for him to close the door. He'd found a crowbar, and he was itching to get the top off the mystery crate. He popped out of his hiding place.
Frank appeared, too, and headed past Joe to the door. "I'm going to tell Shauna what's going on," he whispered. "She's probably getting worried out there."
"Uh, right," Joe agreed. He tapped the crowbar in his open palm. "Well, I'll get started on the crate."
"Just do it quietly," Frank said. "Any sound of splintering wood will bring our friend out."
As if on cue, a muffled noise came from inside the office — the sounds of a war. Joe grinned as he heard a cavalry bugle, gunshots, and war cries. "He must have a TV in there," he said. "As long as the shooting keeps up, we can afford a little noise."
Nothing appeared to be stirring outside — then Frank caught a flicker of movement. It was Shauna, peeking round the corner of the building.
"Frank!" she gasped. "I didn't know what had happened to you."
"We pulled a switcheroo," he explained to her. "The box they left with wasn't the box they came for."
"Where's Joe?" Shauna wanted to know.
"Inside, opening the real crate. We want to know what these guys were supposed to get."
Curious, Shauna started toward the door. Frank gently took her arm to stop her. "We need you out here still. Our box isn't going to fool those guys very long — just till they open it up. Keep an eye out for them. As soon as you see them coming, warn us. Okay?"
Shauna pouted for only a second but then had to admit that Frank was right. "But I want a blow-by-blow description," she warned.
Frank grinned. "Joe has an instant camera. He'll take pictures."
He went back inside to bring his brother up to date. Joe had loosened all the nails on three sides of the box, and was working on the last one. He chuckled when Frank told him of his promise. "Well, I've got the camera right here," he said, touching a pocket in his summer-weight jacket. "I suppose we'll need the evidence, anyway."
Joe pried up the last of the nails, then silently pulled the lid of the crate free. He propped the lid against a pile of boxes, then turned back to watch Frank burrow through packing material.
"So, what is it?" Joe asked.
Frank had finally scooped enough of the packing stuff out of the way and stared down.
"Would you believe a coffin?" he asked.
Chapter 11
FRANK AND JOE both leaned in and began sweeping the packing material out with their arms. Together, they cleaned off the whole top, creating a snowstorm of polystyrene peanuts.
The box inside the crate was dull silver in color, about seven feet long and three feet wide. The top was in two sections, with a hairline crack between them.
As he stared down at the grim-looking shape, Joe Hardy had to admit that his brother's first guess was right. They were looking at a coffin.
"Well, this explains what Singh was talking about," Frank said. "Remember when he was talking with the manager? He said something like, 'Sadness is our business.' "
Joe nodded. "Yeah. I guess if we looked up Forte Brothers in the phone book we'd find out that they're funeral directors."
"Probably," Frank agreed. He stared at the coffin for a moment, poked against the top, and then looked over at his brother. "You have your Swiss army knife? I need a
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