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“Give me and Frank time for a quick shower and we’ll hit the dining hall.”
    Dinner was an informal affair, with many competitors just grabbing some food and heading for their rooms. With two nights of camping out ahead, everyone wanted to get a good night’s sleep.
    Though it was difficult to count with people drifting in and out, it seemed to the Hardys that the field had thinned a bit already. After eating, Frank and Joe decided to check on their kayaks, while Chet and Jamal went to pack away the mountain bikes.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Jamal said. “We’ll have ’em street legal by the time we see you in St. Esprit.”
    â€œAnd we’ll double check the brakes,” Chet added.
    â€œGreat,” Frank said. “See you back inside in a couple of minutes.”
    Night had fallen while the Hardys were inside, and a pale half-moon was just peeking above the trees on the lake’s eastern shore. Big floodlights lit the boathouse near the docks, though the farthest slips remained in shadow.
    The brothers checked in with the boathouse guard, went inside, and gave their kayaks the once-over. The small, sleek vessels and double-sided paddles seemed to be in perfect working condition.
    â€œNo brakes to sabotage on these,” Joe said.
    Frank nodded and the two of them headed back toward the lodge. Light flooded through the big windows at the front of the A-frame, and shadows of the people within danced across the lawn outside.
    â€œBeautiful night,” Frank said, taking a deep breath of the cool air.
    Joe nodded. “Too bad we have to hit the hay early.”
    As they neared the side door, though, the sounds of angry voices from around the corner caught the brothers’ attention.
    â€œSsh!” hissed a woman’s voice. “Do you want someone to hear?” The conversation continued after that but in lower tones. The brothers couldn’t make out the words.
    Frank and Joe exchanged a glance. Both of them crept around the side of the building toward the voices. The back corner of the lodge came almost to the edge of the woods. The Hardys stopped at the bend and listened.
    A deep, masculine voice drifted around the corner. Even whispering, its tones carried through the night air.
    â€œWhat we need,” the voice said, “is to put some of the contestants out of the race.”

4 Water, Water, Everywhere
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    Anger flared in Joe’s eyes. He was about to charge around the corner to confront the conspirators, but Frank put his hand across Joe’s chest. The older Hardy put a finger to his lips, indicating that they should both keep silent.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” a female voice said warily.
    â€œI’m just saying,” the deep voice replied, “that accidents happen all the time in this kind of race.”
    â€œHe’s right,” another male voice said. “The fewer racers, the better chance we have to come out on top.”
    â€œYou’re both crazy,” the woman replied. “If we’re caught cheating, that’s end of the race—the end of everything. We might just as well shoot ourselves in the foot.”
    â€œI’m willing to do that,” the deep voice said, “if it’ll bring us the publicity we need.”
    â€œYou’ve been watching too much TV,” the woman said. “Do you think that any publicity is good publicity? Well, I don’t buy it. I’m running this team, and we’re going to play it my way. If any of you don’t agree, you can quit. I promise I won’t miss you.”
    Frank and Joe cautiously edged to the corner of the building and peered around. In the back, near a service door, stood a woman and two men. Dark shadows covered all of them. In the distance a light shone from the lodge’s parking lot.
    One of the men was tall and large, bigger than Chet. The other—a skinny man with long hair—leaned against the handlebars of a