Shadows at Predator Reef by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

said.
    â€œI’m sure you are,” Alfred said. It was hard to tell if he was peering down his nose at us or if it was just the way his face looked. “Mr. Valledor is a very busy man. I don’t suppose you have an appointment?”
    â€œNo, but I think he’ll want to hear what we have to say,” Joe told him.
    â€œWe’ll see.” Alfred sounded unconvinced. “And who might Mr. Valledor have the, ahem, pleasure of meeting unannounced?”
    â€œYou can tell him it’s the Hardy boys,” I said. “He knows who we are.”
    He replied by slamming the big door in our faces. He opened it again a couple of minutes later.
    â€œFollow me,” he said.
    We walked through the mansion’s grand entrance hall into a large study, where Mr. V was seated with Ron Burris and Laura, the assistant we had met earlier.
    â€œThe young men you wished to see, sir,” Alfred announced.
    â€œThank you, Jonathan,” he said to Alfred, whose name turned out not to be Alfred at all.
    Mr. V motioned for us to come in. “This is a welcome surprise. When I heard the doorbell, I assumed it was another reporter hounding me for an interview about Captain Hook.”
    â€œSir,” Alfred (aka Jonathan) interrupted, seeming rather put out by the whole affair. “Will there be anything else?”
    â€œYes, Jonathan,” he said. “We were just wrapping up here. If you could see Ron and Laura out?”
    This seemed to be news to Ron.
    â€œBut Bradley, we still haven’t figured out what we’re going to do about the delays at the underwater hotel site in Helsinki,” Ron protested.
    â€œI trust you to handle it,” Mr. V said. “Right now I’d like to speak to Frank and Joe.”
    Ron had been nice before, but now he looked at us like we were a couple of mosquitoes intent on annoying him.
    â€œBradley, there’s a lot of money at stake here. I really think we need to focus on what’s important. I know you’re concerned about the turtle—we all are—but—” Ron didn’t get to finish the sentence.
    â€œBut I pay you a very good salary to handle my company’s public relations,” Mr. V snapped. “What I choose to do with my private time is my business.”
    â€œYes, sir, I understand,” Ron mumbled. He closed his briefcase and walked out of the study, hanging his head like a kid who’d been sent to his room without dinner.
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want me to stay, Mr. V?” Laura asked, sounding more like an overprotective parent than a young assistant.
    â€œThank you, Laura, but I think the Hardy boys and I should be just fine on our own,” he replied.
    â€œI’ll be on standby if you need me,” she said, forcing a smile as she followed Ron out the door.
    â€œSir?” Jonathan asked.
    â€œYou too, Jonathan, thank you,” he said. “I’ll call you if we need anything.”
    Jonathan gave us another nasty look before leaving us alone with Mr. V.
    â€œMy apologies for my staff’s lack of hospitality. Running a company can be a bit like being the head of a household, and like many large families, I’m afraid my team and I tend to be a bit dysfunctional at times. And with the news cameras pounding down the door about Captain Hook, we’re all a bit on edge,” Mr. V. said. “So, have you made any progress?”
    Joe didn’t answer. Instead he pulled out the dirty handkerchief with Mr. V’s initials on it.
    â€œI’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Mr. V said as he stared at the handkerchief. “Is that mine?”
    â€œWant to guess where we found it?” Joe asked.
    â€œI don’t have any idea, why—”
    â€œI’ll give you a hint. It was somewhere it shouldn’t have been,” Joe said.
    â€œIn a tunnel under four hundred thousand gallons of water,” I added. “Maybe you