responded in unison.
"Now, lift your arms above your heads, both of you," the officer ordered.
Frank and Joe instantly obeyed, and the officer quickly frisked them.
"Good," he said, stepping back and indicating that they could lower their hands. "Some recruits disregard instructions and arrive armed, which is bad news for everybody. Some guys are too dumb to live."
"Not us, sir," said Frank fervently.
"We know how to obey orders," Joe seconded.
"That's a very healthy attitude — healthy for you," said the commander. "Now, let's move it."
He led the way off the yacht onto the gangway that stretched between the ship and shore. As soon as they were on land, the commander nodded to a crew of men in nearly identical khakis, who started unhooking the gangway, getting ready to wheel it away.
The commander marched Frank and Joe toward the opening in the forest where the cargo was being taken. The light was still too dim for them to see what was in the jungle shadows.
Only when they reached the edge of the forest could they see what was waiting for them.
Waiting among the trees was a train — a small diesel locomotive with a passenger car and a string of five boxcars.
"Put your eyes back in your heads — it's real," snapped the man. "All aboard."
Frank and Joe climbed into the passenger car. It was the kind seen in old black-and-white European movies, with a passageway running beside several separate compartments. Each compartment contained seating for six, three seats facing three more.
As they passed the first compartment, they saw Igor sitting inside, flanked by stone-faced men in khaki. He was trying to look at ease, but sweat was pouring down his face.
"You two are in luck," the commander said. "You get a compartment all to yourselves. There aren't many passengers this trip. Make yourselves comfortable. See you in a couple of hours when we reach the ranch. Your orientation starts there."
Frank and Joe sat facing each other on the faded blue plush seats of the compartment. Both peered out the window. All they could see was a thick rain forest of very tall trees.
Frank slid open the window, stuck his head out, and looked upward. After several moments, he pulled his head in again. "Pretty clever. They've extended nets between the tops of the trees on both sides of the tracks and covered the nets with foliage. Looks like they've laced the top branches together, too. They've made sure that nobody can spot the tracks from above. It's as if we're in a tunnel."
There was a gentle lurch, and the train started moving.
"Remember how Alex mentioned their underground railway, Joe? I read about the original one — the operation that helped runaway slaves escape from the South before the Civil War," Frank said. "Guess you could call this the underworld railway."
"Yeah, the Crime Rail Express," said Joe. "Just wish I knew where it was heading."
Frank nodded in agreement as he squinted out the window, but he could see less and less as the light at the opening of the tunnel faded behind them. The train sped on, deeper and deeper into the darkness of the unknown.
Chapter 10
"BET YOU ALL are a mite curious about this railway," said the tall man in a cowboy hat and the now-familiar khakis. He had met them as they got off the train at a distant corner of the ranch.
But even if the Hardys had not been told, they would have been able to guess that this man, introduced only as "Chief," was in absolute control of this huge highland ranch at the edge of the jungle.
"Yes, Chief," Frank and Joe answered as they had been instructed to do.
"Real interesting story, that railway," said the man. He was smiling with his mouth, but his eyes stayed hard. He kept Frank and Joe standing at stiff attention while he paced in front of them, the jungle a backdrop. He was making sure they knew who was in charge there. "It was built by an American about ninety years ago. He saw those little countries here in Central America all split by civil