Perfect Getaway by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

his bent body could muster. Dimitri watched with a smirk on his face, then climbed back into the jeep. Frank and Joe, both feeling queasy, followed him, and the jeep drove off.
    "Guess you've seen enough," Dimitri said. "You get the idea how we operate here."
    "Yeah, we've got the idea," said Frank, masking his disgust.
    "Sure do," agreed Joe.
    "Anyway, you won't be working out here," said Dimitri. "You've been assigned to the ranch house staff. Easy duty. You even have your living quarters there, so you don't have to live in the barracks. I'll take you there now to be briefed."
    When they reached the ranch house — a rambling, two-story, colonial-style structure built around a central courtyard — Dimitri offered a few words of caution. "Like I said, it's easy duty, but there is one hitch. You're going to be working right under the chief, and sometimes he's—well, a little extreme. The guys before you made the mistake of acting surprised at some of the stuff he did—and they're out guarding the jungle now, fighting mosquitoes. So, if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your noses clean and do exactly what you're told."
    Dimitri left Frank and Joe with the front door guard, who said to them, "You can pick up your gear and bedding and get settled later. The chief wants you right now. On the double."
    "Where do we go?" asked Frank.
    "Down that hall there and through the door at the end," said the guard. "It leads to the courtyard."
    "What do you think?" asked Joe as he and Frank started down the wide, high-ceilinged hall. "Is it worth fifty thousand a month?"
    "It's not bad," Frank said as the two brothers looked around at the sweeping Spanish-tiled stairways, huge oil paintings, and antique carpets. "But even that much money isn't enough to keep an organization like this going. Think about it. The house in Florida, the yacht, the private railroad, the ranch—it's got to cost more than a small country."
    "The world's greatest scam for the world's biggest crooks." Joe shook his head in disbelief. "Can you imagine how Karl Ross reacted when he got here and found out what he'd laid out his money for? A prison a lot worse than the one he was escaping. Not such a Perfect Getaway."
    "At least they haven't killed him," said Frank.
    "Yeah — but that's the question. Why haven't they? They've gotten all they can from him." Joe paused to straighten what looked like a small but genuine Rembrandt painting.
    "Lucky we got assigned to headquarters," Frank said. "This'll make it a lot easier to fill in all the blanks about what's going on here."
    "There's one blank I want filled in right away," said Joe.
    "What's that?" asked Frank.
    "What Dimitri said, that bit about the chief acting extreme," said Joe. "What could be more extreme than what we've already seen and heard around here?"
    Suddenly, through the half-open door leading to the courtyard, there came a hideous human scream.
    "You know, Joe," said Frank, "I've got a hunch we're about to find out."

Chapter 11
    THE ONLY INHABITANTS of the large central courtyard were half a dozen bright green parrots cackling at one another in the branches of a twenty-foot palm tree. The entire courtyard was filled with lush, tropical trees, flowers, and plants in an apparent effort to bring some of the jungle into the heart of the ranch complex. In the center of this miniature jungle, an elaborate fountain paved with hand-painted tiles sent streams of water up into the humid air.
    Frank and Joe were in no mood to enjoy the scenery, though. Another horrible scream pierced the air, and this time it was clear that the sound was coming from behind a closed door at the opposite end of the courtyard.
    "Come on," said Frank, and he led the way through the trees, causing the parrots to squawk indignantly overhead.
    "Frank, maybe we should — " Joe said as they reached the far door.
    "Ssh," Frank warned him and cracked the door open to peer inside. Just then another nerve-shattering scream washed