make me sound like a first-class weenie."
Frank grinned. "You haven't worked your way up to first class yet."
***
Before going back to the motor home, the Hardys decided to stop at the Network camp. Even though the Gray Man had made it clear that the Hardys were definitely not welcome within a thousand miles of the Network operation, Frank and Joe wanted to make sure everybody was all right after the rocket attack.
Joe was prepared for the worst. A rocket designed to blast apart thick steel tank armor could do a lot of serious damage. But he wasn't prepared for what they found.
"It's as though the Network camp was never here," Joe said after they had combed the area for any sign of the men and gear that had been there earlier in the day. The only indication that anything other than birds and bears had touched this part of the wilderness was the ring of scorched trees and the smoldering crater left by the antitank rocket.
"Of course," Frank muttered. "I should have thought of this. They wouldn't stay here after the rocket attack. They'd move the camp to a safer location, and hopefully one where the Assassins couldn't find them."
"And any plans to rescue Dr. Stavrogin would have to be put on hold," Joe added.
Frank nodded. Suddenly he felt very tired, and his body ached in a dozen places. "It's been a long day," he said wearily. "Let's get back to our own base camp, have something to eat, and go to sleep."
"That sounds like a good plan to me," Joe agreed, climbing back on his bike.
They soon discovered they were going to have to wait a little longer than they had anticipated. And any hopes they might have built up about Gina waiting for them with a nice, hot dinner were quickly forgotten, too.
"What happened to the motor home?" Joe cried out when they reached the rickety bridge over the stream near Stavrogin's cabin. "It's gone!"
Chapter 8
"There's probably a perfectly logical explanation for this," Frank said calmly, studying the vacant spot where they had left Gina and the motor home a few hours earlier.
"It may be logical," Joe responded, "but that doesn't mean we're going to like it."
"Let's try to reason this out," Frank said. "Where could Gina have gone?"
Joe sat down in the grass by the roadside. "Maybe she got tired of waiting for us to come back."
"That's a possibility," Frank conceded. "Here's another: Somebody scared her off or forced her to leave."
"The Network?" Joe ventured.
"Or the Assassins," Frank said grimly.
Even though he was bone tired and sore all over, Joe got up and climbed back on the battered dirt bike. "We'd better start looking for her."
Frank squinted at the sun on the horizon and shook his head. "It'll be dark soon. We'll start in the morning."
***
Frank and Joe spent the night in Stavrogin's deserted cabin. In the morning there was still no sign of Gina or the motor home.
"I'm starving," Joe complained as he helped Frank take off the bent front wheel of the dirt bike. Using some tools they had found in the cabin, they managed to work most of the wobble out of the wheel.
Frank slipped the wheel back onto the fork, tightened the axle nuts, and reconnected the front brake line. "That should hold it until we get to Big Bear," he said.
Joe looked at him. "Why are we going to Big Bear?"
"To get a new wheel and something to eat," Frank replied, swinging his leg over the seat and starting the engine. "And to ask some questions," he added.
An hour later the Hardys found themselves at the counter of the Mooseburger Café. They had just dropped Frank's bike at the gas station for repairs and been told that it would take around a week to get a new wheel. The café was deserted except for a large man in an apron who lumbered over and handed them menus. He had long blond hair tied back in a braid, and Joe counted five gold hoops piercing his left ear.
"What'U it be?" the man asked in a deep, friendly voice, smiling down on the Hardys and flashing several gold