Hostages of Hate by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

moving steps. Then he knew where they were heading — into a station for the Metro, Washington's subway system.
    Frank brightened. Grabbing a train would be the perfect way to lose Peterson. Of course, they'd have to buck the ticket lines. Unless - Frank shrugged. They were already on the run from the government. What difference would it make if they beat the fares?
    He followed Joe straight to the turnstiles. But Joe didn't take a running jump. Instead, he dug out his wallet and produced a small card.
    When Frank saw the computerized plastic strip on the side, he recognized it as a Metro fare card! Where had Joe gotten it?
    Now wasn't the time to ask. Joe slipped the card into a sensing device, and the turnstile barrier swung open. Then he flung the card back.
    Frank snatched the card in midair, then inserted it. As he ran through the turnstile, he could see Peterson charging up. The government agent was groping in his jacket. Frank went pale. He couldn't be thinking of shooting — not in this crowded space!
    But no, no one was that crazy. Peterson whipped out his own fare card. Frank didn't watch him, though. His attention was on the blinking lights on one of the platforms. That meant an incoming train!
    Behind him, he heard a wild yell. Frank turned to see Peterson tumbling to the ground. He had tripped over a commuter's feet. Frank didn't get a good look at the commuter — he was wearing a gray suit. Could it be? No. The Gray Man couldn't have tailed them.
    Frank joined Joe in the crush on another escalator, heading for the train that was pulling in. They rushed for the doors, managed to squeeze in. The doors hissed closed, just as Peterson reached them.
    He was still pounding on the doors as the train pulled out.
    Joe grinned at Frank. "Lucky I had that old ticket, huh?"
    "Where did you get it?" Frank wanted to know.
    "A souvenir, I guess you could call it. Last time I was down here, I used one of those automated machines to get a fare card. You know— you slip a bill in, push buttons to show how much money goes on the card, and get change."
    Joe shrugged. "I put a five in the machine, but it wouldn't give me any change. So I wound up with five dollars on my card. I didn't use it up, so I held on to it. No machine gets away with cheating me!"
    Frank smiled. "So, when you saw the Metro entrance you knew we could get on."
    "Yeah," said Joe. "The problem is, where do we get off?"
    "Three stops," Frank said, squinting at the system map. "Then we change trains."
    "To throw Peterson off our trail?"
    Frank nodded. "And to head for our next contact."
    Joe looked puzzled and opened his mouth to speak. Then he looked at all the ears around them and shut his mouth.
    A short time later, the Hardys rode an escalator up to the surface again. "Dupont Circle," Frank said. "This is about as close as the Metro comes to where we're going."
    "Which brings up a question. Where are we going?" Joe asked. He followed Frank around a huge traffic circle, then down a block of turn-of-the-century houses. "Pretty nice," he said, looking around. "But we've gone two blocks, and you haven't answered my question yet."
    He sighed. "We managed to get away, but we've got no weapons—unless you count the plastic explosive I wiped off onto my handkerchief. They even took away the can of Mace. We're going up against a bunch of terrorists with machine guns. To top everything off, we're going in blind. We didn't have time to get anything out of Lonnie. We don't know who to see or where to find this Dutchman."
    "If we get the Dutchman, we'll have a hostage ANWO can't ignore," Frank answered. "And Lonnie did tell us about his contact." He grinned. "First of all, Lonnie gave us a name—Pia. A girl's name."
    Joe stared.
    "Remember?" Frank said. "Lonnie said he couldn't help us. We had to see Pia. And we'd have to go to Georgetown. He was just about to give us her number when he heard the sirens."
    "So, we've got a name and a neighborhood— but a pretty big