Pete gave a small nod.

“Well, at least we got away,” Jupe said.

“We’re not the only ones,” Pete answered, frowning. “When I got to the parking lot, the black Thunderbird was gone. Michael Anthony gave us the slip!”

 “Michael Anthony said he would call you today. So we’ve got to be here for the phone call,” Jupe said. He was busy hooking up a tape recorder to the cordless phone in Pete’s kitchen.

“But Jupe, give me a break. It’s Saturday morning,” Pete said. “I can’t wait here all day.” He looked longingly out the window at the blue sports car in his driveway. “That car’s not safe out there.”

Jupe raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“Guys were calling me all last night begging to drive it — I didn’t even know who half of them were.” Pete was obviously getting agitated because he poured orange juice in his cereal instead of milk. “I told my parents the car’s part of a case we’re working on. You know what they said?”

“What?” asked Bob.

“They asked me if they could drive it!” Pete said, taking a mouthful of the cereal. “Everyone wants to drive that car.”

“Yeah, I’ll be happy to take it for a spin while you hang around here,” Bob offered.

Pete rolled his eyes. “That car is probably the only reason you’re here today and not working at the talent agency.”

“That reminds me,” Bob said. “Sax wants to drive it, too.”

Pete was about to fling a spoonful of cereal at Bob when the phone rang.

“I told you he’d call,” Jupe said. He jumped to turn on the tape recorder. “Keep him talking as long as you can, Pete. He’s our only lead.”

Pete switched on the speaker phone so they could all listen. But it was Kelly calling from Lake Tahoe.

“The skiing is great, but I miss you, Pete,” she said. “Miss me?”

“Uh, sure,” Pete said. “But give me a break, Kel. I’ve got you on the speaker phone.”

“Oh. Hi, Bob. Hi, Jupe — I mean, Mr. Collegiate,” she added with a giggle.

Jupe snarled at the speaker phone.

“What have you been doing? Working on the Ark, Petey?”

“Nope,” Pete said, giving Jupe and Bob a wink. “As a matter of fact, I don’t even know where it is. I’m driving something else.”

“You traded cars already? That’s a record. What’d you get this time?”

“A Porsche.”

“Petey, we’ve got a bad connection. It sounded like you said Porsche.”

“1986. 911 Targa. A totally cool blue.”

“Come on, you guys. What’s the joke?”

“It’s true,” Bob said. “Pete’s got a Porsche. It’s the next installment from the guy who’s bribing him.”

Kelly was silent for a moment. “Pete, if you care about me at all, you’ll promise not to solve this case until I get home and drive that car.”

“See what I mean?” moaned Pete, looking at his friends.

“The way things are going,” said Jupe gloomily, “that’s a promise he can almost guarantee.”

At 10:15, the phone rang again. Bob answered. It was Valerie this time. She and Bob talked for about five minutes before they discovered that they didn’t know each other. Valerie had dialed the wrong number. However, they still set up a date to go see a movie.

“When I get wrong numbers, they want to sell me magazines,” said Jupe with a sigh.

A third phone call came at exactly 11:00. Jupe was nearest, so he answered. The voice on the other end surprised him. It was Chuck Harper, president of Shoremont College. The call-forwarding button on the HQ phone had bumped Harper’s call over to Pete’s house.

“Jupe, could you and your guys come to my office at four o’clock this afternoon?” Harper said.

“Of course,” Jupe said. Afterward he looked at the clock. Now they had the next five hours to wonder why President Harper sounded so worried — and why Michael Anthony hadn’t called.

For the rest of the day the phone didn’t ring. By two P.M., Pete was so fidgety he was driving Jupe and Bob crazy.

“Are you going to give up on this guy Michael Anthony, or what?” Pete asked as he repeatedly tossed the keys to the Porsche into the air and caught them again.

“I’m beginning to suspect he won’t call,” Jupe agreed. “He must have spotted us when we were tailing him yesterday.”

“What a shame,” Pete said, although a huge smile began spreading across his face. “All right, I’m out of here!”

 “Drop me at Sax’s,” Bob said. “I can’t make the four o’clock meeting. Gotta work tonight and tomorrow. And Monday.”

“Right,” Jupe and Pete groaned in unison.

The three of them piled into the Porsche and drove Bob to the talent agency. Then Pete and Jupe cruised until it was time to head for Shoremont.

The administration building was empty and quiet, as usual for a Saturday afternoon. Pete and Jupe found President Harper sitting behind his desk instead of on it. He was unbending paper clips at a rapid rate and wearing a very solemn face. With him was a second man, seated in a tall-backed leather chair.

“Jupiter Jones and Pete Crenshaw, this is John Hemingway Powers,” said President Harper.

Oh, yes, Jupe remembered, you are Mr. Check-book, who offered to pay for a new gym.

The man stood up. His height wasn’t impressive. He had dark wavy hair and a small mustache. He looked like any successful business executive in an expensive blue suit — except for his eyes. They were dark and seemed to bore into the two teenagers as he shook hands.

“I have been informed by President Harper that you received bribery money to enroll at Shoremont,” he said tersely to Pete. “And you,” he said when his eyes turned to Jupe, “are posing as a student to find out who sent the money.”

President Harper cleared his throat. “Mr. Powers and I played tennis this morning,” he explained. “And during the match, he mentioned that he wanted to contribute an additional sum of money — to increase Coach Duggan’s discretionary budget. I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea right now and tried to leave it at that. However — ”

Powers interrupted in a strong, to-the-point voice. “When someone tells me there’s something I can’t do, I start asking why.”

President Harper continued, sounding slightly uncomfortable. “Well, finally I decided it was only fair to let John know about our suspicions. Fortunately, John understands and respects the way we’re dealing with this problem. He has graciously offered to help with the investigation in any way he can. But of course he’s as concerned as I am to avoid a scandal.”

“Well?” Powers said, staring at Jupe and Pete. Jupe understood: John Hemingway Powers wanted to know what was going on — and he wanted to know now.

“I think we are getting very close to uncovering which players are receiving bribery money and who is behind the plot,” Jupe said, putting on his most confident face. “A man calling himself Michael Anthony contacted Pete in person. He gave Pete a car — ”

 “A Porsche,” interrupted Pete.

“And he also admitted that he is working for someone else. But we don’t know for whom yet.”

“Best guess,” Powers demanded.

“Coach Duggan,” said President Harper.

“True,” said Jupe, “but it’s also possible that Bernie Mehl is trying to frame Coach Duggan.”

“Yeah. We followed Michael Anthony to Costa Verde’s campus,” added Pete.

“Guys, I don’t care who it is,” said President Harper. “I just want you to get the proof you need and settle this fast. We’ve got to clean house before this leaks out. Because if the press finds out, they won’t clean our house. They’ll burn it down.”

Powers turned to President Harper. “Chuck, I’m convinced you’re going about this the right way. I think these guys are on the right track.”

Then Powers gave one of his penetrating stares. “I hope, young man, you won’t get the wrong idea about Shoremont. The things I learned here when I was a student helped me become what I am today. It’s a wonderful school. And if you really are an outstanding athlete, we’d be pleased to have you enroll — but not for money.”