old barn where the Circle was holding its emergency meeting and get Biff away. Jeanne, with Aunt Gertrude watching over her, was remaining at the Hardy home. Once Joe called in with the good news about Biff, they were supposed to alert the cops.
Leaving the van a safe distance from the abandoned apple orchard, Joe moved quietly through the night-darkened fields. Then he cut through the orchard itself.
Up ahead stood a big ramshackle barn. The light of several candles showed, flickering, inside the deep shadows of the old structure.
Then Joe had his lucky break.
Something — someone passed between him and the candles in the barn. Joe ducked behind a tree. Peering around it, he made out two robed figures.
"Come on, Chad, we're late."
"In a minute. I'm not going to break my neck because Kevin Branders says so."
"Kevin won't like that."
"Well, too bad. Who died and left him boss?"
The other figure sounded dubious. "I don't know, Chad. Look what happened to Jeanne Sinclair."
"Maybe Branders can get away with pushing girls around, but just let him try me. Everyone says I'm the best boxer at Chartwell."
Oh, please, Joe said to himself.
"Fine—but I'm going in. See you inside, Chad."
"Yeah, yeah, Willie."
Very carefully Joe moved closer, darting from apple tree to apple tree.
Chad was a lean, dark-haired young man of about eighteen. Joe didn't know him. He was standing at the edge of the orchard, about to slip his black hood on.
Joe made a quick decision.
Then he went walking right up to him. "Hey, Chad," he said.
"Huh?" Chad started to turn. "Who — "
Joe punched him twice, short jabs to the chin.
Chad wobbled, moaned once, and then his eyes rolled up and closed, and he fell to the weedy ground.
"Sorry about that, Chad," Joe said. "I guess the boxing class at Chartwell hasn't gotten up to that move yet."
Swiftly Joe tugged off the kid's robe. He used Chad's belt to tie his arms around a tree and improvised a gag out of his sweater.
A moment later Joe had on the robe and the hood and was walking into the meeting of the Circle.
There were only nine others standing in the ragged circle made by the candles planted on the rough stone floor of the beat-up old barn. Six of them were boys, three, girls. Joe scanned the circle. One guy was much taller and stockier than the others — something even the black robe couldn't disguise. That had to be Biff. Now to move over to him . . .
But just as Joe took a place at the edge of the group, one of the hooded figures moved to the center of the circle, where a glass bowl was resting on an overturned apple barrel.
The guy raised his right hand. "Brothers and sisters," he began, and Joe recognized the voice as that of Kevin Branders. "Brothers and sisters of the Crimson Circle of Twelve, we have been summoned here tonight because our group faces a grave and most serious challenge."
Joe shifted from one foot to the other, trying to see if he recognized any of the other masked figures.
"In order to grow and thrive," continued Kevin, "a group, like the trees in this orchard, must be pruned and cut from time to time. Better that one dies than have the group perish. So I suppose you should know that this very day we have had — a pruning."
Joe swallowed hard, looking around the circle of kids. He couldn't see their faces beneath the hoods. But just from the way most of them were standing, he could tell that they were scared out of their minds.
"We had traitors in our group," Kevin went on. "People who lost their nerve, who would have turned us over to the police. They left messages and even gave away the place of our headquarters."
Worried murmurs rose from the hooded kids.
"We've taken care of the problem," Kevin cut in, calming them down. Hidden by his hood, Joe smiled. Let Kevin think that.
"But there's still more treachery to be punished." Joe's shoulders tightened as Kevin's voice rose. "Believe it or not, we have a spy right here in our midst."
He turned to point