Joe turned to Don. He was surprised to see Don cowering, backing up, frightened. He began to regret having Don along.
"Pl - please," Don stammered. "D - d - don't kill me. Please."
"You coward." Joe sneered.
"I don't want to die!" Don blurted out and fell to his knees.
Joe was disgusted.
"Stand up, West," Stewart ordered.
"No, no, no," Don cried. Then he turned to Joe. "Don't let him kill me."
Joe was tempted to hit Don, to shut him up. Then he saw the slightest wink from Don's eye. Suddenly Joe knew that Don was only pretending to distract Stewart.
"I said stand up!" Stewart moved toward Don.
Don grabbed for Stewart's knees, and Joe kicked out at the magnum in Stewart's right hand. Stewart stepped back, and Don landed on the floor. Joe's kick connected with the magnum, and the gun flew from Stewart's hand and exploded.
"No!" Callie screamed and fell to the floor.
"Callie!" Frank rushed to Callie. The bullet had grazed her left temple.
"Don't move, punks," Stewart growled. He pulled back the hammer of Riley's gun and held it to Don's head.
Joe stopped and stepped back, his hands held up. "Okay, just take it easy."
"I'll take it easy, punk," Stewart spit out. He knelt and picked up his magnum. "Enough of this! Time to die."
"Stewart!" Officer Riley gasped from the top of the stairs.
He stumbled down, nearly falling. Frank saw a thin line of dried dark blood on the side of his forehead.
"Drop it, Stewart," Riley said with authority.
Stewart laughed and fired Riley's gun at Riley. Con flew backward and slid down the stairs.
"No!" Frank yelled and leapt for Stewart. Stewart swung around and caught Frank across the temple. Frank slumped to the floor.
"Frank!" Callie screamed and crawled over to him, cradling the unconscious Frank in her arms.
"Change of plans, folks." Stewart cackled. "Officer Riley was killed with his own gun by Frank Hardy." He pointed the .357 automatic magnum at Frank. "And I killed Frank Hardy!"
Chapter 13
Con Riley kicked out just as Stewart started to pull the trigger. The bullet hit the ceiling and bits of concrete and gray dust fell on Frank and Callie. Riley groaned and collapsed.
Joe sprang on Stewart and knocked him against a desk. He clamped his hands on both of the man's wrists to keep Stewart from pointing the .357 at him.
Don ran to Frank. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Frank groaned. Then he turned and saw that Joe was now struggling with Stewart. "Joe - "
Don ran to help Joe. The magnum exploded again, and Don yelled as he grabbed for his shoulder.
Joe turned. He was distracted just long enough to give Stewart time to twist around. Joe's back was now against the desk.
Joe pushed Stewart away, and he flew backward, tripping over Riley and falling onto the stairs. He dropped Riley's gun. Joe kicked it away.
Stewart raised the magnum and fired. Joe dived behind the desk, the corner exploding in wooden splinters and chips.
Joe popped back up immediately, but Stewart was gone. Joe could hear the fleeing footsteps of the bad cop as he reached the top of the stairs.
Joe ran to Don. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it grazed my shoulder. It just burns a little." Don grimaced. "I'll be okay. Check Riley."
Joe dashed to Officer Riley. He checked the police veteran's chest and was shocked to find no blood. Joe ripped open Con's shirt to find a bulletproof vest.
"Is he okay?" Frank asked, joining Joe.
"Yes. How's Callie?"
"I'm fine," Callie said, holding Frank's handkerchief to her head.
"Look at this, Frank." Joe directed Frank's attention to the bulletproof vest.
"So?"
"So I thought I hit something hard, like metal, when I fought with Bobby Mock at the hotel room. Remember?"
"It wasn't metal," Frank said. "It was a bulletproof vest."
"Right."
"Is there a phone down here, Don?" Frank asked.
"Yeah," Don said.
"Good. Call the police station. Tell them we have an officer down and need assistance."
***
Frank and Joe walked into the darkened entryway of their home. Joe flipped on the living room light and threw himself in an overstuffed chair.
"I feel like I've been awake forever," Joe said, sighing.
"Me, too," Frank agreed as he yawned.
"You make sure the doors and windows are locked," Chief Collig ordered Officer Murphy. Murphy disappeared down the hallway as the police chief stood in front of Frank and Joe.
"What now?" Frank asked.
"Now you two go to bed and let real cops handle police business. You're lucky I don't throw you in jail for obstruction of justice." Frank didn't like the slight smile on the chief's face.
"What about Officer Riley?" Joe asked.
"He may be guarding a crosswalk for a while - "
"Is he all right?" Frank interrupted.
"The bulletproof vest saved his life. He's got a couple of cracked ribs, but he'll survive."
"Good." Frank sighed.
"Doors and windows locked," Officer Murphy reported as he entered the living room.
"Outside," Chief Collig said, pointing behind himself. He turned to Frank and Joe. "You two get a good night's sleep," Chief Collig said, his voice soft.
"What about Stewart?" Frank asked.
"We'll find him. Officer Murphy will be outside in his patrol car. You two stay home. Good night." Then he walked out the door.
"Now what?" Joe asked.
"Stewart's not going to try anything," Frank said, standing.
"How do you know?"
"He wants us too badly to risk getting caught at our house."
"You have a plan?"
"We'll take Chief Collig's advice and then sneak out in the morning," Frank said as he headed up the stairs.
Joe followed. He didn't know what Frank had planned, if anything, but he was too tired to care.
***
Frank and Joe rose at six a.m. Frank looked out his bedroom window. A patrol car sat at the curb. Frank smiled. Officer Murphy's head was back against the headrest, his eyes closed, his mouth open.
"He's asleep," Frank said.
"How do you plan to get the van out without waking him?" Joe asked.
"Put it in neutral and let it roll out into the street, then start the engine and peel out. By the time Officer Murphy realizes what's happening, we'll be gone with the wind."
"Solid," Joe replied.
They headed down the stairs.
"I want to call Callie and make sure she's okay," Frank said.
Frank picked up the receiver and punched in Callie's private number. Then he noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine. Someone had called. Frank put the receiver down and punched the Play button on the answering machine.
A moment later Laura Hardy's voice spoke from the machine, "Frank. Joe. We got your message, and your father wanted me to call to tell you he's renting a car and driving back after he sleeps a couple of hours. It's," - she paused - "eleven o'clock now. Your father said he should be in around seven or seven-thirty in the morning. He'll meet you at that truck stop. He said you'd know which one. Aunt Gertrude and I are driving back tomorrow. You two take care. 'Bye."
Frank shut off the machine.
"What message?" Joe asked.
"We didn't leave a message," Frank said sternly.
"Stewart," Joe hissed.
"Right. Mom must have called before we got home last night. I knew I should have checked the answering machine." Frank picked up the phone and punched the number of the Philadelphia hotel where his parents were staying.
"What are you doing?" Joe asked.
"Calling Mom. Perhaps she knows what the message said."
"How are you going to ask her about that without alarming her about Stewart?"
> "I'll think of something."
Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude had already checked out of the hotel, a desk clerk informed Frank.
"What now?" Joe asked.
"First we get past Officer Murphy," Frank replied and headed for the kitchen.
"We've got to find Stewart and fast," Joe said.
"If Stewart's the one who left that message for Dad, then he'll be waiting at the truck stop."
"Which one?" Joe asked as they stopped at the back door.
"We'll try the one on Highway Nine; that's where Dad would come in from Philadelphia."
They ran out the back door and sneaked around to the front. Using the van as cover, they opened the side door and hopped into the vehicle.
Joe put the van in neutral and silently rolled it out into the street. Then he flipped the ignition switch forward, fired the van to life, threw the shift into first, and stomped on the accelerator. The tires screamed as the van lurched forward and sped off.
Frank didn't know how Officer Murphy had reacted, and he didn't care. He could imagine Chief Collig's volcanic reaction when Murphy reported the incident, though.
Five minutes later Joe guided the van into the large parking lot of Trucker's Pit Stop, a truck stop just west of Bayport.
"Look for a rental car, something with Pennsylvania tags," Frank said.
Joe slowly snaked the van down and through the rows, but they found nothing.
"Maybe he's not here yet," Joe said after several frustrating passes.
"He should have been, if this is the truck stop Mom was referring to. Try around the back."
Joe turned and headed to the rear, back behind the large garage and oversize car washes.
"Look!" Joe said, pointing to a light blue sedan.
Martin Mangieri, his telltale black leather jacket and long dirty blond hair, was shutting the trunk of the sedan.
Joe pressed the accelerator, and the van lurched, moved, the tires squealing. Mangieri turned and horror filled his eyes as the black van sped toward him.
He ran to the front of the sedan and hopped into the driver's seat.
Joe hit the brakes, and Frank jumped from the van. He grabbed the door handle on the driver's side of the sedan and lifted it just as Mangieri locked the door. Then Joe saw his father's briefcase lying on the seat next to Mangieri.
"He's got Dad!" Frank yelled.
Mangieri smiled as he started up the car. He threw the car into reverse and shouted through the rolled-up window, "Your old man's dead, Hardy! Dead!"
Chapter 14
Frank slugged the driver's window but managed only to hurt his knuckles.
Mangieri laughed, and the blue sedan jetted away from the curb.
Frank hopped back into the van, and Joe turned it around.
"Dad's briefcase is in the front seat. I think Mangieri's got Dad in the trunk."
The Hardys always kept the engine and transmission finely tuned, and the hot-rodded van responded with a clean, even burst of speed and power. The van swooped down behind the blue sedan like a black bird of prey.
Mangieri glanced into the rear-view mirror. Joe could see the fear in his eyes. Mangieri must have given the car more gas because it, too, suddenly burst forward. In a second he was putting some distance between it and the van.
"He's not going to slow down!" Frank yelled above the roar of the van's fireball engine.
"That sedan's faster than it looks."
The sedan jerked to the left, then back to the right.
Joe saw why a split second later. A large branch torn from a tree sat in the middle of the road. Joe didn't have time to turn the van. They slammed into the branch and flew into the air.
"Whoa!" Frank yelled and clutched his seat. The van smacked back down on the pavement, the shocks groaning and creaking against the sudden impact. Then the van began to swerve.
Joe fought to keep the van under control. He let up on the gas pedal and lightly pressed the brakes. The large vehicle responded to Joe's gentle touch and straightened out.
Mangieri had used the extra time to gain more distance. Joe again pressed the accelerator hard. The gap between the two vehicles slowly and steadily decreased.
Frank grabbed the CB and turned the channel button to nine, the emergency channel.
"I'm calling the cavalry," Frank announced as he pressed the button on the hand mike. "Mayday! Mayday! Any Bayport police. This is Frank Hardy. We are chasing a suspected kidnapper in a stolen car." Frank glanced at the corner street sign as the van zoomed past it. It was just a blur, but he was able to make out the letters well enough to say, "We're on Highway Nine headed west. The suspect's car is a light blue, late model sedan. Pennsylvania plates. A rental. I repeat, we are chasing a stolen car. The kidnap victim is inside, he may be hurt. Need assistance." He released the button. Frank was set to repeat the announcement when the CB buzzed.
"This is Bayport Police Department, please repeat your message. Over."
Frank began to repeat his message but was cut short.
"Frank Hardy!" boomed the angry voice of Chief Collig. "Where are - "
Frank shut off the CB.
"So much for that idea."
"Where's he headed?" Joe asked above the noise.
"Looks like away from Bayport," Frank replied.
Joe glanced at the speedometer. The digital speedometer flashed 70 MPH.
"C'mon, baby," Joe said under his breath to the van. He pressed the accelerator closer to the floor.
They inched closer to the sedan. The light blue digital speedometer flashed 75, then 80. Every nerve and muscle in Joe's body seemed to contract at once. One bad move - a quick swerve by Mangieri, another branch in the road, anything to cause Joe to lose control - and the black van would become their coffin.
When the van was a foot from the blue sedan's rear bumper, Mangieri's car responded with more speed.
Joe's eyes flashed. He couldn't safely go any faster.
Mangieri slowed a little. Joe pulled the van to the left and tried to edge up to Mangieri. He had to back off when he saw oncoming traffic headed toward him on the two-lane highway.
"Try to get on the other side of him!" Frank shouted.
Joe had been thinking the same thing. With traffic on his left and the van on the right, Mangieri would be trapped. Joe whipped the van to the right and was soon beside Mangieri.
"He's trapped!" Frank said.
Mangieri jerked his head from left to right.
Joe glanced at the car. He could see his father's leather briefcase lying on the passenger seat.
Just then Mangieri stomped the brake, sending the rear of the car into a violent fishtail. The sedan bounced off the van, and hot, white sparks shot out. The cars whipped back and made contact again. This time a high-pitched scream accompanied the crash as the sedan's fender was torn from its body.
Joe pushed his brake flat, and the van jerked, slowing.
Mangieri tried to speed up, but his car had lost its power.
"Now it's our turn," Joe announced.
"Careful," Frank warned. "Dad could be in the trunk."
"I'm just going to get in front of him," Joe said.
He pressed down on the accelerator and easily began to pull ahead of the sedan. He glanced over at Mangieri.
"Look out!" Frank yelled.
Joe jerked his eyes forward. The shoulder of the road had turned into an exit ramp, which curved sharply to the right. Joe's mind raced with decisions. Mangieri was on his left, the exit was on his right, and fifty feet straight ahead was a concrete pillar. He had to get in front of Mangieri before he hit the pillar or else he'd have to go off at the exit ramp.
Joe knew they didn't have enough time to give the van more speed to get all the way in front of Mangieri. They'd have to take the exit. He lightly pressed the brakes and felt the brake pads grab the wheel disks. They had to slow before taking the sharp right turn.
Just then Joe's foot and the brake pedal slammed to the floor as the brakes turned
to mush.
"The brakes are gone!" Joe yelled. "I can't turn into the exit. We'll flip over."
Dead ahead the concrete pillar rose like a giant tombstone.
Chapter 15
Joe pressed on the emergency brake pedal. He did it slowly or else the brakes would grip the wheels in a deadly lock that would send the van rolling like a large tin can.
The van jerked and then slowed. At the last possible second Joe spun the wheel and made the edge of the ramp. Mangieri had disappeared over the hill. The van coasted to a stop.
Frank brought his fist down on the dash. "What happened to the brakes?" His question was almost an accusation.
"I don't know!" Joe shouted back.
He hopped from the van and dived under the front end. He rose a moment later, a small, oil-drenched twig in his hands.
"What is it?" Frank asked.
"This must have broken off the branch we hit and stuck in the brake line," he explained, showing Frank the twig.
"Brake lines are metal," Frank replied.
"Not the brake lines going directly into the brake cylinder of the wheel. They're rubber."
"Can you patch it?"
"No." Joe got in and slammed the door shut. He snapped the twig with his fingers and tossed the broken pieces out the window. "We'll have to get a new one. But not right now." Joe turned the van in a hard right turn and hit the accelerator to go back onto the highway.
Frank knew that Joe was an expert enough driver to continue the chase using the emergency brake.
"Where is he?" Joe asked as they topped a Hill. The blue sedan had vanished.
"I'll keep an eye on the exits," Frank said.
They drove for another thirty minutes but still couldn't find the blue sedan. Mangieri could have taken any number of exits heading in any number of directions.
"Head back to Bayport," Frank said after another fifteen minutes.
"What?" Joe shouted.
"Mangieri would have headed back to Bayport as soon as possible."
"Give me one good reason why. We're not going to give up searching for Dad!"
"We're not giving up searching for Dad. Use your head, Joe. Mangieri has only one place to go - Bayport!"
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