The Mystery of the Black Rhino by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

starved.”
    â€œLet’s have something sent up, boys,” Mr. Hardy suggested. “I’m hungry, too, but I want to unpack, check over some of my material for my lectures, and call your mother.” He thought for a minute. “On second thought, maybe we’d better call your mother and Aunt Gertrude first. If they heard what happened from watching the news, they’ll be really upset.”
    â€œGood idea, Dad,” Frank agreed. “Knowing Aunt Gertrude, she’d be on the next plane to Nairobi.”
    Joe rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Africa is ready for Aunt Gertrude,” he said.
    Frank laughed. “Would you mind if Joe and I ate in the Thorn Tree Café, Dad? You told us it’s pretty good.”
    â€œThat sounds like a super idea. Your mother and I loved it,” Mr. Hardy said. “You might as well get your trip started. I’m going to be plenty busy, so you won’t want to keep waiting on me to do things.”
    The Hardy boys took turns in the bathroom, rested for about a half hour, then dressed and headed for the Thorn Tree Café. They were seated at once, ahead of a couple who had been in front of them—but since the couple didn’t seem to mind, Joe didn’t bother to protest for them. Obviously the name “Hardy” was already opening doors in Kenya, just as it did in the United States.
    In the center of the café there was a live thorn tree, from which the café got its name. Its huge branches acted as a sort of canopy. To the trunk of the tree, as was the tradition, were attached messages from various guests to other expected guests. Some of the messages had been there for years. The tradition dated from an earlier time, when Kenya was a British colony. Then almost everyone who came to Nairobi stayed at the New Stanley Hotel, and, because of the scarcity of telephones and other means of communication, this was about the only way to get information to friends.
    â€œToday you can use cell phones,” Joe remarked. “The world has seen a lot of changes.”
    The Hardy boys looked over the menu, thendecided to take a chance on what the waiter suggested.
    He suggested mushkaki, small pieces of grilled and marinated meat off the skewer. With it, they had ndizi —plantains, and maharagwe —red kidney beans cooked with coconut.
    Just as they were finishing, Joe looked up and saw Jackson strolling down the sidewalk.
    The Hardy boys looked at each other and nodded.
    Frank quickly signed the check, leaving a generous tip, and they left the café to follow Jackson.
    Jackson turned at Mama Ngina Street and headed toward Moi Avenue, the main thoroughfare of central Nairobi.
    Even though the street was crowded, the Hardy boys had no problem keeping Jackson in sight. After two more blocks, he turned into the doorway of a small shop. When the Hardy boys reached the shop, they read the sign above the door: MOMBASA CURIOS .
    Frank gave Joe a puzzled look. “He doesn’t look like the type of person who’d be buying souvenirs,” he said.
    Joe nodded. “I say we check it out.”
    When they entered Mombasa Curios, a bell jangled above the door. The shop was typical of its kind, with shelves full of wooden masks, carved animals, blankets, and various kinds of beaded work. Most of it looked relatively inexpensive.
    After several minutes, when no one appeared, Frank called, “Is there anybody here?”
    A door opened at the back of the shop, and an elderly Indian man appeared.
    Joe had a sense of déjà vu from Fifth Avenue Africana.
    â€œI’m sorry. I was unpacking some goods in the back. I didn’t hear you,” the man said. “Things have been very slow today. In fact, you’re the first people who have even come into the shop.”
    The boys looked at each other.
    Why was this man lying to them? Frank wondered.

6 Riot!
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    â€œWell, we’ll just look around then, if