Joe seized Megan's arm and jerked, hard. Her mid-air flight abruptly took a different direction, and she was catapulted back towards the dock, where she collided solidly with Vanessa. Both girls went down, in a tangled confusion of arms, legs, and muffled cries.

The helmeted attacker revved the engine of his jet-ski, and swung about sharply, aiming his watercraft out into open water. His hand moved on the throttle, and he was off, scudding across the lake’s surface, plumes of spray spreading in his wake.

Frank had started towards Megan, but as her assailant fled, he swerved towards an unoccupied jet-ski nearby. Revenge was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted above all else to catch this guy and punish him!

"Hey! Here! Go after him!" came a shout, and the lanky young operator of the Jet-ski outlet, who looked to be about the Hardys' age, was tossing a tagged key toward Frank. "Go get the bas-" His words were swallowed up in the roar of a passing motorboat, but Frank got his meaning, loud and clear. He caught the keys, then glanced back at Megan and Vanessa, uncertainly, but Joe was shoving him towards the jet-ski.

"Go on – I'll look after them. Hurry up!" Joe gave him another push, and obeying his brother's words and his own deepest impulses, Frank jumped onto the saddle of the watercraft, shoved the key into the ignition, and twisted the throttle as the engine roared to life. He swung away from the dock and accelerated out across the lake, in furious pursuit.

"Vanessa…Megan…?" With Frank’s departure a certainty, Joe turned his attention to the girls, who were disentangling themselves, rubbing various parts of their anatomies. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yes, I think so…" "Yeah, just shaken up." Both girls were nodding.

Joe assisted Megan to her feet first, since she had ended up on top. She smiled at him, but he felt her trembling. "That was – scary." she admitted, and he hugged her reassuringly before turning to Vanessa.

"That was not only scary, it was criminal!" Vanessa exclaimed, as Joe extended a hand to help her up. "You could have been hurt badly – and at the least, you’d have ended up soaking wet, and it would have ruined Frank’s…" Her voice died away in shock, then she took a deep breath and started sputtering anew. "That camera again! What is it with that camera?"

Megan stared down at the little box hanging from its strap about her neck. "It’s just a camcorder, isn’t it?"

"It’s new, and it’s a nice model, but it’s certainly not worth all this!" Joe said hotly. "It’s like this guy’s picked on Frank to torment, or something! There’s nothing special about the camera!"

"Why would someone want to…?" Megan paused. With the Hardys, a reason wasn’t always necessary. Things just happened; people surfaced with long-held grudges, circumstances dropped them into wacky situations, someone needed help…or someone decided they were somehow a threat. This looked like the latter – but what threat did her boyfriend pose this time? 

Frank, meanwhile, was speeding out over the waters of Lake Tahoe. He had ridden a jet-ski before, but not often, and he had to concentrate fiercely on what he was doing. Out in front of him, much too far away for his satisfaction, he could see the other rider, his foe, bouncing across the water at a dangerous rate of speed. Frank twisted the throttle on his handlebars and picked up the pace a notch, undeterred by the water being kicked up by his own craft, which was hitting him in the face and occasionally dousing him completely.

That guy has to be the one behind all the thefts – he has to be! And he just tried to hurt Megan! NOBODY hurts Megan and gets away with it – nobody! Frank shook his head, impatiently clearing his eyes of water once more. He realized he was going to have to do some fancy riding to catch his prey; this guy was more experienced with a jet-ski than he was. But Frank was angry – more than angry; he was furious. The man had not only attempted to hurt Megan, he had also tried to kill Frank – twice! And the elder Hardy still had no idea why.

Up ahead, the other rider suddenly banked his jet-ski around in a wide half-circle and leaned over the handlebars, almost standing up on his watercraft. Frank squinted, unsure just what this maneuver was going to accomplish, but he tried to follow suit, and leaned forward as well, heading straight for his quarry.

The man appeared to be heading for a nearby dock, and Frank followed him, trying to watch out for tricks, but still increase his speed enough to catch up. The other rider slowed briefly near the dock, then swung his craft about and headed out into the lake once more, this time aiming straight for Frank!

Not about to fall for this stratagem, Frank held his position. He could see something dangling from the man’s left hand, but couldn’t quite make out what it was. As his enemy approached, Frank finally identified the mysterious object – it was a length of rope, evidently picked up from the dock. The other rider swung close to Frank’s jet-ski, and abruptly flung the rope at him!

Frank swerved automatically, in an attempt to avoid this snare, and again lost his grip on the handlebars. This time, his frantic clutches closed only on air, and Frank found himself tumbling into the cold waters of the third deepest lake in North America!

Cold! So cold! Freezing cold! Frank struggled against the shock of the chill waters. Even now, in mid-August, the lake temperature out here in the middle couldn’t be much above 65 degrees, and to Frank, it felt more like 40! His clothes weighed him down, threatening to pull him beneath the waves still chopping from the jet-skis’ passage. Doggedly, he trod water, kicking off his shoes to lessen the weight, and shaking the drops from his eyes, peering about to get his bearings.

Luck was with him – his abandoned jet-ski, throttled down automatically when his hands left the handlebars, was floating in the water a short distance away. Frank marshaled his strength and struck out for the little craft. When he reached it, he thankfully pulled himself aboard, and slumped forward, completely winded, his heart pounding in his chest. He was shivering with cold and shock, but anger and disbelief kindled fiery embers deep inside – he’d lost the guy again! After a few minutes, when he’d regained his breath, Frank disconsolately started up the jet-ski, swung it about, and headed back for the dock whence he had started – defeated once more.

*****

Fenton and Laura strolled along the sidewalk, heading for the Grand Tahoe Resort Hotel and Casino. Since the distance was less than a mile from the police station, they had decided to walk, and now proceeded, hand-in-hand, discussing the Caesars Palace murder as they went.

"There may be more here than the police want to admit," Fenton observed now, a grim set to his lips. "It’s not unheard of for organized crime to move into even these smaller places, although I believe it’s more prevalent in Las Vegas. Nothing to say that someone’s not attempting to move into the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe."

"True," Laura agreed quietly, allowing him to continue his musing aloud.

"Perhaps someone’s trying to shake Jacobs off – poison a few people, start a crime spree of thefts, murder one of his employees less than a mile from his resort – it’s something the Mob – any mob group, not just the Italian Mafia – would do."

"It’s all a little frightening, Fenton," his wife responded. "It’s one thing to look into a few cases of food poisoning, and something completely different to start investigating murder." She walked a few steps in silence, then continued. "I never feel entirely safe when you or the boys are looking into things like that. And just now, it’s worse – because of what happened, just last month. Linda’s being poisoned….it makes me so sad…."

Fenton stopped walking, and hugged her close. She hadn’t mentioned what, to him, was even worse than her sister’s death – her own near-fatal brush with poison, at the hands of Dominic Scarpetti – and that had been mob-influenced, too…well, Scarpetti had had mob associations, even though the poisonings were an entirely personal affair. He tightened his arms about her.

"I’ll keep you safe, darling – I promise I will. If this starts to look like it is the mob, we’ll be out of here and catching a plane from Reno, right away. I won’t risk you again!"

Fenton kissed her gently, and then they turned once again toward the Grand Tahoe. I sure hope it’s not organized crime again – that would be just too much, considering what happened with Laura’s family! He felt a stab of fear as he remembered the past events, and gripped her hand a little more tightly.

"Look – jet-skiers." Laura pointed towards the lake, from whence they could see the little watercraft in the distance, and hear the characteristic whine of their motors. "I wonder if the kids will actually get around to doing that? I know Frank wants to!"

Fenton chuckled. "They want to do everything there is to do. I fully expect to come up against the last day here, and be inundated with pleas of ‘Can’t we stay a few days more?’"

The Grand Tahoe Resort was large – four stories tall, and spreading over at least a full city block. It had been built with an eye to illusion – the illusion of rusticity. The outer walls were made to look like logs, to suggest a log cabin, although the sheen of the ‘logs’ revealed that it wasn’t quite as rustic as it seemed. The walkway from the sidewalk to the front entrance was evenly-set, smoothed-down rock – no chances of anyone tripping on this surface!

Masses of dwarf varieties of evergreen trees were clustered about the building, and beds of summer flowers brightened the landscape. Twin waterfalls cascaded down, one on each side of the main entrance. They splashed gently into matching pools which in turn flowed along the sides of the building. The whole atmosphere exuded tranquility and peace.

Inside, the décor was in warm shades of green and gold, echoing the ‘nature’ aspect of the outside. More trees and flowers, growing in enormous pots and planters, gave the impression that a casino had somehow sprung up in the middle of a forest!

It took the Hardys several minutes of wandering and sign-reading to locate the casino business offices. Evidently they weren’t placed where the general public had easy access to them – well, that made sense! Finally, they found them, and had just asked if they could speak to Mr. Jacobs, when the door to an inner office opened, and a man stepped out.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties, and was tall – perhaps 6’2", about Fenton’s own height – and blonde, with cool green eyes; and his well-built body was flattered by the expensively-cut dark gray suit he wore.

"Mr. Jacobs," the receptionist said. "These people would like to talk to you…"

Cameron Jacobs looked quizzically at the two, but when his eyes fell on Laura, they took on a sparkle of interest. He stepped forward, ostensibly speaking to both the Hardys, but with his eyes fastened on her.

"I’m Cameron Jacobs – and you are…?" He gave Fenton a quick glance and nod, then took Laura’s hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he bent over it, and briefly pressed his lips to the back. Somewhat startled, she instinctively pulled back, but his clasp tightened, holding her in place.

"Fenton Hardy – and my wife, Laura." Fenton grated. He didn’t much care for the predatory way Cameron Jacobs was regarding his wife. "I am a private investigator, and I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions about the problems which have been occurring aboard the Royal Tahoe, and other places you own, lately."

Jacobs finally released Laura’s hand, and she stepped back, hastily linking her arm into Fenton’s, trying to make it evident that she was with him. Jacobs’ eyes glinted with malicious humor; he didn’t seem to care that she was with someone else. He flashed an annoyed look in Fenton’s direction, then again turned to Laura and smiled warmly at her.

"Mr. Hardy, the trouble has all been taken care of – in fact, I’m positive that nothing else is going to happen. I found the problem. It was one of my delivery drivers, and he has been fired; in fact, was fired yesterday."

"Why didn’t you tell the police that?" Fenton pressed.

Jacobs shot him another annoyed glance. "I’m sure you must realize, Hardy, that negative publicity is the worst possible thing, to a place like the Royal Tahoe Resort. I didn’t want any more of it. I’m working very hard to turn business back around, after all this…’unpleasantness.’"

Laura felt a distinct repugnance, despite Cameron Jacobs’ undeniable good looks and charming manners. Even though he was ostensibly speaking to Fenton, his eyes rarely left her, and he kept attempting to touch her in some fashion – brushing against her, putting a hand on her arm. It made her extremely nervous.

"But I don’t wish to seem churlish," Jacobs was saying now. "Could I interest you in joining me for lunch?" He turned the full battery of his eyes and smile on Laura, again briefly glancing at Fenton to include him – with some reluctance – in the invitation.

"No – thank you," Laura quickly responded. "We’re meeting our sons for lunch."

"Not a problem," Jacobs countered smoothly. Apparently he wasn’t put off by the prospect of her having children. "They can be included – just call them, and have them drop by for the best meal in Tahoe."

"Perhaps another day." Laura said with finality, and was turning to leave when Fenton raised another question.

"What about Evan Reed, Mr. Jacobs? Didn’t he work for you?"

"Yes, he did," Jacobs admitted. "Too bad, he was a good employee. I’m afraid the boy may have gotten into trouble with gambling – run up debts with some of…well, some of those ‘undesirable’ people." His voice put the implied quotes into his words, and Laura and Fenton had no difficulty figuring out the implication: Evan Reed had been involved with bookies or loan sharks. "In any event, I must run – unless you’re sure you won’t reconsider, and accept my lunch invitation?"

"No, thank you again." Laura reiterated, and the two Hardys watched Cameron Jacobs stride out of his office without a backward glance. Slowly, they followed in his wake, back through the jingling clatter of the brightly-lit casino.

As they neared the big Wheel-of-Fortune near the main entrance, Laura felt herself being tapped on the arm, and turned to see a sweet-faced and rather bewildered-looking older woman clutching a little plastic bucket of nickels.

"Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have any idea where the ladies’ room is?" the woman inquired. "I’ve been sitting here for hours, and…well…."

Laura smiled warmly. "Yes, I saw the sign just back this way." She turned to Fenton. "I’ll be right back, honey—" and then back to the woman. " – it’s over in this direction; I’ll show you…." Fenton shook his head, smilingly, and paused next to the Wheel, waiting for Laura to return from her errand of mercy.

As Laura made her way through the crowded aisles of slot machines, she spotted her husband, gazing up at the flashing Keno board, apparently mesmerized in the numbers it was displaying. Suddenly, she let out a warning yell, and began to run towards him, as she saw the enormous Wheel of Fortune tilt and then start to fall, directly towards Fenton Hardy’s unsuspecting head!