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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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could see was wild gray hair peeking from beneath a patterned head scarf. Joe was amazed that such a frail-looking person could manage the heavy load she was toting. What did she have in there? Books? Bricks?
"That's much better." The woman slipped on her glasses and looked up at Joe with surprisingly young-looking eyes. She lifted the lid of the basket Joe was holding and yanked out a MAC-10 submachine gun.
Backing away, the old woman pointed the gun at Joe's chest. "Time for you to get off the train."
Joe stared. "But it's still moving."
The gun barrel poked him in the chest as his captor nodded. "That's exactly the idea."
Chapter 11
Joe stood frozen as the little old lady - who was, he realized a bit too late, actually a small man in disguise - opened the metal door. The machine gun poked Joe again in the ribs as the man said, "Had me worried there for a while. We had three drop-off points set up but passed two of them without a sight of you. Thought I'd have to do something right desperate to get one of you Hardys off alone. But third time lucky, I guess."
He glanced out the open doorway. "There'll be a car waiting for us. When we see a yellow lantern by the tracks, off we go."
"I don't think so, Granny." Joe dropped into a sudden crouch, swinging the hamper with all his strength.
The basket smashed into the gunman's hand, knocking the MAC-10 out of his grasp. It spun away, seemingly sucked into the darkness beyond the doorway.
The metal door stood open and flapping. Now the sound of the speeding train was enormously loud.
Dodging, Joe swung the basket again.
The phony granny glasses flew free, hitting the corridor floor. As the two struggled, the glass lenses were stomped into crunchy fragments.
Joe fought desperately. At least he had succeeded in moving the fight away from the doorway. His opponent fell backward, cracking his head on the wall. Joe moved forward, confident of victory. Unfortunately, he walked right into his enemy's last attack.
An outflung foot caught Joe in the waist. The blow took the wind out of him and sent him staggering backward.
He tried to grab the sides of the doorway. Instead he caught only chilly air.
Joe went sailing off the train.
He twisted as he fell, landing on his side with a tremendous jolt. Landing on a slanting, pebbly slope beyond the tracks, he went rolling downward about fifty feet. Finally he came to a stop beside a dark roadway.
The train went roaring on its way without him.
Frank looked out the compartment window as the train slowed to stop at a small rural station. The brightly lit platform was empty except for a fat man in a long black overcoat. He wore a checkered cap with earflaps and was holding an empty bird cage. Two passengers got off the train, both bundled in shapeless overcoats. Soon the train was pulling out of the station, and they were rolling again through the darkness.
"I guess Joe found his drink, and a place to sit down and enjoy it," Karen said, glancing at her watch.
"When it comes to finding supplies or a place to hang out, Joe has a sixth sense," Frank told her. "He probably found - " Frank managed to cut his voice off before he said, "some pretty girl." Instead, he finished the sentence with, " - a snack to go with his drink."
"You're probably right," Karen said.
Frank sighed. This had been an especially rough day - getting rapped in the head, running around, spending long hours searching for clues. The sounds of the train wheels on the tracks began slowly fading. The rattling and the swaying died down.
With another sigh Frank's head dipped forward.
Karen's hazel eyes were troubled. "He's been gone quite a while," she said quietly, not wanting to wake Frank.
Karen watched the darkness roll by outside for a few more minutes. Finally she got to her feet. "I think I'll go look for him."
***
The next thing Frank knew, he was being roughly shaken.
"Wake up! Wake up!" a frantic female voice cried in his ear.
"Who? What?" Frank said
"That's much better." The woman slipped on her glasses and looked up at Joe with surprisingly young-looking eyes. She lifted the lid of the basket Joe was holding and yanked out a MAC-10 submachine gun.
Backing away, the old woman pointed the gun at Joe's chest. "Time for you to get off the train."
Joe stared. "But it's still moving."
The gun barrel poked him in the chest as his captor nodded. "That's exactly the idea."
Chapter 11
Joe stood frozen as the little old lady - who was, he realized a bit too late, actually a small man in disguise - opened the metal door. The machine gun poked Joe again in the ribs as the man said, "Had me worried there for a while. We had three drop-off points set up but passed two of them without a sight of you. Thought I'd have to do something right desperate to get one of you Hardys off alone. But third time lucky, I guess."
He glanced out the open doorway. "There'll be a car waiting for us. When we see a yellow lantern by the tracks, off we go."
"I don't think so, Granny." Joe dropped into a sudden crouch, swinging the hamper with all his strength.
The basket smashed into the gunman's hand, knocking the MAC-10 out of his grasp. It spun away, seemingly sucked into the darkness beyond the doorway.
The metal door stood open and flapping. Now the sound of the speeding train was enormously loud.
Dodging, Joe swung the basket again.
The phony granny glasses flew free, hitting the corridor floor. As the two struggled, the glass lenses were stomped into crunchy fragments.
Joe fought desperately. At least he had succeeded in moving the fight away from the doorway. His opponent fell backward, cracking his head on the wall. Joe moved forward, confident of victory. Unfortunately, he walked right into his enemy's last attack.
An outflung foot caught Joe in the waist. The blow took the wind out of him and sent him staggering backward.
He tried to grab the sides of the doorway. Instead he caught only chilly air.
Joe went sailing off the train.
He twisted as he fell, landing on his side with a tremendous jolt. Landing on a slanting, pebbly slope beyond the tracks, he went rolling downward about fifty feet. Finally he came to a stop beside a dark roadway.
The train went roaring on its way without him.
Frank looked out the compartment window as the train slowed to stop at a small rural station. The brightly lit platform was empty except for a fat man in a long black overcoat. He wore a checkered cap with earflaps and was holding an empty bird cage. Two passengers got off the train, both bundled in shapeless overcoats. Soon the train was pulling out of the station, and they were rolling again through the darkness.
"I guess Joe found his drink, and a place to sit down and enjoy it," Karen said, glancing at her watch.
"When it comes to finding supplies or a place to hang out, Joe has a sixth sense," Frank told her. "He probably found - " Frank managed to cut his voice off before he said, "some pretty girl." Instead, he finished the sentence with, " - a snack to go with his drink."
"You're probably right," Karen said.
Frank sighed. This had been an especially rough day - getting rapped in the head, running around, spending long hours searching for clues. The sounds of the train wheels on the tracks began slowly fading. The rattling and the swaying died down.
With another sigh Frank's head dipped forward.
Karen's hazel eyes were troubled. "He's been gone quite a while," she said quietly, not wanting to wake Frank.
Karen watched the darkness roll by outside for a few more minutes. Finally she got to her feet. "I think I'll go look for him."
***
The next thing Frank knew, he was being roughly shaken.
"Wake up! Wake up!" a frantic female voice cried in his ear.
"Who? What?" Frank said
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