The Crowning Terror by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

signs of Charity, Joe crept from the study, down the hall, and out the front door. Kwan and Tony were nowhere to be seen. Quickly Joe checked his map and began to run in the direction of Market Street.
    From a second-story window Charity watched and smiled.
     
    ***
     
    As inconspicuously as he could, Frank Hardy struggled with the cord that bound his wrists in front of him. Standing in the lobby with Frank, the Russians paid little attention to him. Instead, they watched the early-evening street, waiting until it was relatively clear of people so they could smuggle him out of his uncle Hugh's building. "You stay here," Feodor said to Hunt. "Better you not be seen with us. Who knows who is watching? We pick you up night after tomorrow night."
    "You want me cooped up for two whole days?" he replied with some amazement. He spoke directly to Feodor, avoiding Frank's gaze. Oleg stepped behind Frank, nuzzling the boy's ribs with his gun, and Frank stopped straining on the cord. "Just what do you expect me to do all that time?"
    "Stay. Study plan," said Feodor. "You have one chance to make it work. If you fail — "
    "I don't get the antidote, and I die," Hugh continued. "Don't worry. I plan to live."
    Feodor grinned. "Is good. We study plan, too. Oleg, you have plan?"
    Proudly Oleg patted his coat breast pocket with his free hand. He put his face close to Frank's, and Frank could feel the Russian's moist breath on his ear. "We have plan for you, too," Oleg whispered and dug the gun deeper into Frank's ribs. "You make noise, we finish you right here. Bang, bang."
    With a curt nod, Hugh Hunt vanished back into the building. Frank couldn't believe his eyes. He understood why his uncle would pretend not to recognize him, but the man was showing no interest in rescuing him. His uncle was not going to help him.
    Oleg jostled Frank over to the limousine at the curb. Feodor walked ahead, carefully checking the block for witnesses. There were none. He opened the back door of the limousine, shoved Frank inside, and slid in beside him. As Frank righted himself in the seat, Oleg moved around to the driver's seat.
    "Why all this fooling around?" Frank asked. "Why not just kill me and get it over with?"
    "Kill you?" Feodor said and chuckled. "We not kill you. You have ... " He paused, thinking ... "Sports accident! You swim, eh?"
    "Sure," Frank said.
    Feodor laughed again. "Maybe you live, then. We give you little bump on head, let you jump. Ever go off Golden Gate Bridge? No, eh? Water very cold, wake you up maybe. Current very strong, drag you out to sea." He shrugged. "Maybe not. You swim well, maybe you make it."
    The Russian's mirthful belly laugh made Frank's skin crawl as the nylon rope bit into his wrists. He looked around, for a way to escape and found nothing.
    Nothing except the figure charging down the street behind them.
    ***
     
    Breathless from running, Joe Hardy neared his uncle Hugh's apartment. He hoped Frank was still there. Questions kept bouncing around in his head. But between his brother and himself, he felt sure they could sort out the answers.
    He stopped suddenly and gaped at the limousine passing him. In the front was the short man who had driven the getaway car in New York. There in the back, as he expected, was the man with the eye patch. With Frank.
    "Frank!" he shouted as he turned and ran after the limo. It was no use. On the now-quiet street, the limo easily pulled away from him. Gasping for breath, he came to a halt and watched the limo vanish into the distance.
    A car sped up to him, and he waved his arms to flag it over. But the car continued by without slowing down. Another car passed, and then a motorcycle. The cyclist, his face hidden behind a black visor, turned his head to watch Joe wave, but both car and cyclist continued on.
    Joe began to run again, but he knew it was hopeless. Without transportation, he had no way of catching up to the limo.
    Then he smiled. The cyclist had pulled into a parking space