Crime in the Cards by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

buy yourself a seat at the game.”
    â€œOkay. I’m in,” Chet said. He pulled the money out of his pocket and handed it to Gerry.
    â€œGreat,” Gerry said. He reached into his robe and searched around a bit. “How about I set you up with the Samurai Scorpion, the Fiery Phoenix, and the Rogue Lion?” he said. “I’m giving you a bargain on price there. Will those three fit in with your deck?”
    â€œYeah,” Chet said, nodding.
    Gerry handed him the cards and something that looked like a crumpled-up wig.
    Chet unfolded the wig and held it out in front of him. It was a cheap rubber gorilla mask. “What’s this for?” he asked.
    â€œMost of the players at these games don’t want to be recognized—it might hurt their tournament play,” Gerry said. “So I provide disguises. Do you like my outfit? I’m the Mystic Monk.”
    â€œYeah, okay,” Chet said. “Isn’t this all a bit melodramatic?”
    â€œHey!” Gerry said, throwing his arms wide. “This is Creature Cards—a world of magic and imagination. Loosen up, Chet-man. Go on inside. Follow the lights to the game area and deal yourself in.”
    Chet shot a final skeptical glance at Gerry. Then he chained up his bike and went inside. After Chet left, Gerry pulled a wad of cash out of his robes and began to count it.
    â€œCome on,” Frank whispered to Joe. “Let’s sneak inside.”
    The brothers cut back to one of the doors they’d noticed earlier. Joe updated the girls while Frank picked the lock.
    The Hardys crept through an empty storage room and a deserted store before coming to the mall’s central walkway. Benson’s Mini-Mall wasn’t in much better shape inside than outside. Ceiling tiles and old electrical fixtures dangled haphazardly. The carpeting stank of mold, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the empty halls.
    Peering out of the storefront window, the brothers saw a dozen people gathered around a sunken seating area in what had once been the center of the mini-mall. A circle of drop-lights ringed the playing pit. Most of the players wore strange masks and bulky clothing, to better hide their identities.
    The contestants sat huddled in small groups, ranging from two to five people. The players talked animatedly as they laid their cards out, attacking and counterattacking. Chet, seated with four other players, was studying his situation carefully. A demon-masked player in a black satin jacket laughed as he laid down a winning card.
    The Hardys crept closer to the game, trying to get a better look at the action. They stuck to the shadows and moved quietly so that the players wouldn’t spot them.
    â€œRecognize anyone?” Frank whispered. Joe shook his head. “Not in those get-ups. The masks muffle their voices, too. If we hadn’t seen Chet go in, I might not have recognized him.”
    The competition grew intense. The smaller games died away, and soon there was one seven-person game left, with everyone else watching. Through clever play and perseverance, Chet had kept himself in the match.
    Others in the group included the demon-masked man, a woman in a leather motorcycle jacket wearing a skeleton head, a vampire, an alien amazon, a rubber-faced ex-president, and a thin blond man in a blue down vest who wore no mask at all.
    The blond man, who seemed just a few years older than the Hardys, looked at the demon player and laid a card down. “My DireWurm will aid the Samurai Scorpion and join the siege against your Onyx Castle.” He sat back and smiled, obviously pleased with his play.
    Everyone sat silently for a moment while the demon-masked man pulled a card from the top of his deck and added it to his hand. He chuckled. “Looks like you’re all out of luck, then,” the demon said. “ Because my Scarlet Sorceress is summoning up my Bargeist.”
    The players watching the game