Read Online Blood Relations by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Ads: Link
rounded the corner into the kitchen, Joe caught his foot in a scatter rug and down he went. Frank tripped over him and sprawled spread-eagle on top of Joe.
"He got away!" Frank said, scrambling to his feet.
All they could do now was wonder who had saved them. They rushed back into the front hall.
A moment later Greg and Mike charged in through the front door.
"Whew, that was close," Greg said. "We watched through the window for as long as possible. We were hoping you'd disarm him so we wouldn't have to risk your lives by trying something."
"But when he was about to shoot, we had to gamble on him panicking," said Mike.
"It was a good gamble," said Frank. "He's not crazy, he's a pro. And a pro's first rule is to survive."
Joe shook his head, astounded by his brother. It was just like Frank to start in analyzing events rather than asking the obvious first question. Joe did it. "How did you guys get away from the kidnappers?"
"We had a little luck," Greg said. "Greg's being modest," Mike said. "Luck didn't have anything to do with it. Greg waited till there was just one guard, then he faked the guy out by pretending to have a stomachache. When the guard came to check, Greg got the drop on him, and we got out of the apartment they were holding us in. Callie said it sounded like Greg had been taking superhero pills."
Greg smiled modestly while his brother recounted their adventure.
Smiling was the last thing Frank felt like doing. He had a hard time keeping the sharpness out of his voice when he asked, "Callie? How did Callie find out?"
"As soon as we were free, we contacted Dunn," Greg explained. "He told us Mom was hiding out at Callie's, and we headed right over there. When we arrived, they told us what had happened."
"Then Mom told us you were going to pay a call on this William Clark guy," Mike said, continuing the story. "When we were being held prisoner, we heard them mention him a couple of times. We tried to call you, but you'd already left, so we rushed over here to see if you needed help. Guess it was a good thing we did." "Sure was," Joe said.
"Look," Frank said impatiently, "we have more important things to worry about. Starting with the late Mr. Clark. Now we do have to call the police, but before we do, let's see if we can find those financial records Max talked about." "Shouldn't we let the cops do that?" suggested Joe.
"I'd rather pursue this on our own a little further," Frank said. "If Mr. Rawley is a spy, and discovers the police are after him, he'll head for the border. I don't want to risk that. I think it's better that we get all the goods on him first, so that when the police come, it'll be with handcuffs."
"I'm glad you have a good reason," said Joe, teasing. "I'd hate to think you were just trying to outdo old Greg here."
"This is a case, not a competition!" Frank said indignantly. "Why would I want to do that?"
"No reason," Joe grinned. "No reason at all."
"Come on, guys," Greg said. "Let's get going and see who can find the records first."
"That's the wrong way to look at it," Frank said. "We have to work together. And be sure not to leave fingerprints everywhere. The police are going to be all over this place."
But despite what he said, he felt himself moving into action like a sprinter off the starting line. The others were moving too, fanning out through the house.
Less than ten minutes later, Frank's voice rang out through the bungalow. "I found it!"
His voice came from the kitchen. Joe, Greg, and Mike joined him there. He was standing with a small microfilm canister in his hand. The canister was covered with flour, so were his hands. An open tin of flour was on the counter in front of him.
"It wasn't hard to find," Frank said. "This William Clark was a real tidy guy. You know that by the way he kept this house. The whole place is immaculate, as though he vacuumed it every day. But I spotted a trace of flour on the kitchen counter. He must have been in a hurry when he stuck the
"He got away!" Frank said, scrambling to his feet.
All they could do now was wonder who had saved them. They rushed back into the front hall.
A moment later Greg and Mike charged in through the front door.
"Whew, that was close," Greg said. "We watched through the window for as long as possible. We were hoping you'd disarm him so we wouldn't have to risk your lives by trying something."
"But when he was about to shoot, we had to gamble on him panicking," said Mike.
"It was a good gamble," said Frank. "He's not crazy, he's a pro. And a pro's first rule is to survive."
Joe shook his head, astounded by his brother. It was just like Frank to start in analyzing events rather than asking the obvious first question. Joe did it. "How did you guys get away from the kidnappers?"
"We had a little luck," Greg said. "Greg's being modest," Mike said. "Luck didn't have anything to do with it. Greg waited till there was just one guard, then he faked the guy out by pretending to have a stomachache. When the guard came to check, Greg got the drop on him, and we got out of the apartment they were holding us in. Callie said it sounded like Greg had been taking superhero pills."
Greg smiled modestly while his brother recounted their adventure.
Smiling was the last thing Frank felt like doing. He had a hard time keeping the sharpness out of his voice when he asked, "Callie? How did Callie find out?"
"As soon as we were free, we contacted Dunn," Greg explained. "He told us Mom was hiding out at Callie's, and we headed right over there. When we arrived, they told us what had happened."
"Then Mom told us you were going to pay a call on this William Clark guy," Mike said, continuing the story. "When we were being held prisoner, we heard them mention him a couple of times. We tried to call you, but you'd already left, so we rushed over here to see if you needed help. Guess it was a good thing we did." "Sure was," Joe said.
"Look," Frank said impatiently, "we have more important things to worry about. Starting with the late Mr. Clark. Now we do have to call the police, but before we do, let's see if we can find those financial records Max talked about." "Shouldn't we let the cops do that?" suggested Joe.
"I'd rather pursue this on our own a little further," Frank said. "If Mr. Rawley is a spy, and discovers the police are after him, he'll head for the border. I don't want to risk that. I think it's better that we get all the goods on him first, so that when the police come, it'll be with handcuffs."
"I'm glad you have a good reason," said Joe, teasing. "I'd hate to think you were just trying to outdo old Greg here."
"This is a case, not a competition!" Frank said indignantly. "Why would I want to do that?"
"No reason," Joe grinned. "No reason at all."
"Come on, guys," Greg said. "Let's get going and see who can find the records first."
"That's the wrong way to look at it," Frank said. "We have to work together. And be sure not to leave fingerprints everywhere. The police are going to be all over this place."
But despite what he said, he felt himself moving into action like a sprinter off the starting line. The others were moving too, fanning out through the house.
Less than ten minutes later, Frank's voice rang out through the bungalow. "I found it!"
His voice came from the kitchen. Joe, Greg, and Mike joined him there. He was standing with a small microfilm canister in his hand. The canister was covered with flour, so were his hands. An open tin of flour was on the counter in front of him.
"It wasn't hard to find," Frank said. "This William Clark was a real tidy guy. You know that by the way he kept this house. The whole place is immaculate, as though he vacuumed it every day. But I spotted a trace of flour on the kitchen counter. He must have been in a hurry when he stuck the
Similar Books
