Mystery of Smugglers Cove by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

demanded.
    â€œWe’ve got them stashed away on the Florida coast south of Miami,” Frank replied quickly. “They’re too hot to handle right now. When the heat’s off, we’ll run them down here in our boat.”
    Nitron nodded. “Okay. You seem to know what you’re doing. ”
    â€œWe’ve sold our share of hot goods,” Chet declared.
    â€œAnd we haven’t been caught yet,” Biff maintained.
    Nitron rubbed his chin. “I could use you four,” he stated. “How about working for me?”
    â€œOkay by me if it’s worth our while,” Frank replied.
    â€œIt will be. The name’s Ignaz Nitron. I’ll pay you a hundred each for tonight,” Nitron went on. “Then you’ll get a cut when I complete the deal I have in mind.”
    â€œWhen do we start?” Joe inquired.
    â€œRight now!”

9
    A Dangerous Mission
    â€œMy men will be over soon,” Nitron went on. “We have a cargo to pick up and need extra hands.”
    As he finished speaking, there was a knock on the door and three men filed into the cottage. They looked at the Bayporters curiously.
    â€œI just hired these guys,” Nitron explained and introduced the men. Then he signaled for everyone to leave. The group went to the cove and boarded the boat. Junior Seetro untied the rope, threw it onto the deck, and jumped in after everyone else had gone aboard. Nitron started the engine and soon the smugglers sailed out of the cove.
    They followed a course past Key West, Boca Chica Key, and Sugarloaf Key. Just before Big Pine Key, Nitron turned off the motor. Glancing at his watch, he said, “We’ll wait here for the go-ahead.”
    Some time later a signal came from the shore. A bright light was aimed at a certain point on deck. It blinked on and off at different intervals.
    The Hardys realized that someone on Big Pine Key was communicating in Morse code, which they had mastered during their detective training. HONDA COVE NINE O‘CLOCK was the message. Then the light went out.
    â€œWe don’t go in till nine,” Nitron stated. “So we gotta kill time. If you want to listen to music, you can use my cassette player below.”
    The boys went down into the cabin, and a few seconds later Junior Seetro joined them. “I’m glad we got a break,” he said, plopping into a chair.
    â€œWhy, don’t you like to work for Nitron?” Frank asked.
    Junior shrugged. “Having to watch out for the law all the time is getting to me. I’ve never been in prison, but I know a lot of people who have. I’d rather not join them.”
    â€œTrue,” Joe spoke up. “But where else can you make this kind of dough?”
    â€œSometimes I wonder if it’s worth it,” Junior replied, putting a tape into the player. “Anyway, I have no choice.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Chet asked curiously.
    Junior sighed. “Aw, nothing. Forget it.”
    Since the young man did not volunteer any more information, the Hardys decided not to prod him for the time being. Instead, they all began to talk about the group they were listening to.
    At eight-thirty Nitron started the motor and headed toward Big Pine Island. Darkness had fallen over the tropical sea, and they could hardly make out where they were going. Nitron entered a shallow cove. Knowing the area like the palm of his hand, he guided the boat expertly to the narrow beach.
    Junior jumped onto the sand holding the guide rope, which he tied to a tree. Then everyone went ashore. Nitron signaled with his flashlight.
    â€œOver here!” a muted voice called out.
    The smugglers walked toward a secluded spot surrounded by mangroves, where a man stood beside a number of stacked, wooden crates. He came forward and shook hands with Nitron.
    â€œEverything here, Roberto?” Nitron asked.
    â€œEvery last crate,” Roberto replied. “Now let’s finalize the