Read Online Running on Empty by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Ads: Link
them?
"When I give the signal," Frank shouted, "open the back door."
"But - "
"Just do it!" Frank steadied himself and cocked back his arm. "Now!"
Emmy threw open the door.
With all the strength he could muster, Frank flung the crowbar in a deadly spinning arc toward the TransAm's windshield.
A look of surprise and horror crossed the two gunmen's faces. The crowbar smashed into the windshield, turning the shatterproof glass into a useless white mass of hairline cracks that covered the entire windshield.
Blackie lost control of the car and slammed into the side of a concrete wall. The car's hood crumpled and exploded open. One corner of the hood caught the air cleaner, ripping it from atop the carburetor. The fuel line leading to the carburetor broke loose, and gasoline sprayed the top of the hot engine. A second later flames erupted and grew larger, fed by the spewing gas from the fuel line.
The car scraped against a concrete wall. The entire engine compartment was in flames, and angry black smoke surrounded the TransAm.
Satisfied that the gunmen were out of commission, Frank closed the rear door.
Joe crashed the van through the wooden barricades and no trespassing signs and turned the van out onto the street. The van tilted on two wheels, then fell back hard on all four.
"Head for Royce's," Emmy yelled as she threw herself onto the small bench just behind Joe.
Frank eased his way forward and into his seat and turned to face her.
"Want to tell me what you were doing at the parking garage?" Frank's voice was steady, accusing.
"Saving your lives," Emmy replied with a smile.
"Were you?" Frank's eyes were hard, piercing.
Emmy's smile dropped. "Yes. I was."
Frank pulled the photo from his pocket. "Want to explain this?"
Emmy looked confused, then outraged. She snatched the photo from Frank.
"That's mine." Her voice was cold.
"The man next to you is your father, isn't he?" Emmy remained silent. "What's your connection with Smith?"
Emmy's reply was venomous. "That's my business, Frank."
"Now I'm making it ours," Frank replied, nodding toward Joe. "We've got a friend whose life is on the line. No one knew Joe and I were going to the garage except Smith. Then you show up. You've been tailing us. Why?"
Emmy's eyes narrowed as the full understanding of Frank's implication sank in.
"The photo proves you've known Smith for years. When did you transfer to the Southport Police Department, Emmy? Wasn't it just a few weeks after your father's accident?" Frank was playing a hunch. He had to find out what Emmy knew about Smith.
Emmy's creamy complexion turned a deep red. She was shaking with anger.
"I'll say this only once, Frank Hardy." Emmy took a deep breath and let it hiss out slowly. Her icy green eyes flickered and her bottom Up quavered. "I'm a cop. A good cop. And because I'm a good cop, I tailed you two hoping to get a lead on Smith's fence. Instead I end up pulling you two out of a death trap."
"And Smith?"
"Smith is a creep I knew a long time ago. I was the one who told Cronkite about him and his little chop shop business."
"You knew about the chop shop before you transferred from New York to Southport?"
"Not exactly, but I had a hunch. Smith was convicted of operating a chop shop five years ago. He wasn't out of prison a month when this latest one opened up. No one in Southport knew I was a cop. Cronkite thought it the perfect cover. I take over my father's auto repair and body shop and try to get inside Smith's gang."
"Why didn't it work?" Joe asked.
Emmy wouldn't relax. Months of frustration poured from her. "I don't know. Even though we've known each other for years, Smith won't have anything to do with me, except offering to buy my garage last week."
"You still think Max had nothing to do with sabotaging your car this morning?" Frank was beginning to change his mind about Emmy.
"I'm not sure about anything or anybody." Emmy stared hard at Frank.
"How did you know our last name is Hardy? Cronkite
"When I give the signal," Frank shouted, "open the back door."
"But - "
"Just do it!" Frank steadied himself and cocked back his arm. "Now!"
Emmy threw open the door.
With all the strength he could muster, Frank flung the crowbar in a deadly spinning arc toward the TransAm's windshield.
A look of surprise and horror crossed the two gunmen's faces. The crowbar smashed into the windshield, turning the shatterproof glass into a useless white mass of hairline cracks that covered the entire windshield.
Blackie lost control of the car and slammed into the side of a concrete wall. The car's hood crumpled and exploded open. One corner of the hood caught the air cleaner, ripping it from atop the carburetor. The fuel line leading to the carburetor broke loose, and gasoline sprayed the top of the hot engine. A second later flames erupted and grew larger, fed by the spewing gas from the fuel line.
The car scraped against a concrete wall. The entire engine compartment was in flames, and angry black smoke surrounded the TransAm.
Satisfied that the gunmen were out of commission, Frank closed the rear door.
Joe crashed the van through the wooden barricades and no trespassing signs and turned the van out onto the street. The van tilted on two wheels, then fell back hard on all four.
"Head for Royce's," Emmy yelled as she threw herself onto the small bench just behind Joe.
Frank eased his way forward and into his seat and turned to face her.
"Want to tell me what you were doing at the parking garage?" Frank's voice was steady, accusing.
"Saving your lives," Emmy replied with a smile.
"Were you?" Frank's eyes were hard, piercing.
Emmy's smile dropped. "Yes. I was."
Frank pulled the photo from his pocket. "Want to explain this?"
Emmy looked confused, then outraged. She snatched the photo from Frank.
"That's mine." Her voice was cold.
"The man next to you is your father, isn't he?" Emmy remained silent. "What's your connection with Smith?"
Emmy's reply was venomous. "That's my business, Frank."
"Now I'm making it ours," Frank replied, nodding toward Joe. "We've got a friend whose life is on the line. No one knew Joe and I were going to the garage except Smith. Then you show up. You've been tailing us. Why?"
Emmy's eyes narrowed as the full understanding of Frank's implication sank in.
"The photo proves you've known Smith for years. When did you transfer to the Southport Police Department, Emmy? Wasn't it just a few weeks after your father's accident?" Frank was playing a hunch. He had to find out what Emmy knew about Smith.
Emmy's creamy complexion turned a deep red. She was shaking with anger.
"I'll say this only once, Frank Hardy." Emmy took a deep breath and let it hiss out slowly. Her icy green eyes flickered and her bottom Up quavered. "I'm a cop. A good cop. And because I'm a good cop, I tailed you two hoping to get a lead on Smith's fence. Instead I end up pulling you two out of a death trap."
"And Smith?"
"Smith is a creep I knew a long time ago. I was the one who told Cronkite about him and his little chop shop business."
"You knew about the chop shop before you transferred from New York to Southport?"
"Not exactly, but I had a hunch. Smith was convicted of operating a chop shop five years ago. He wasn't out of prison a month when this latest one opened up. No one in Southport knew I was a cop. Cronkite thought it the perfect cover. I take over my father's auto repair and body shop and try to get inside Smith's gang."
"Why didn't it work?" Joe asked.
Emmy wouldn't relax. Months of frustration poured from her. "I don't know. Even though we've known each other for years, Smith won't have anything to do with me, except offering to buy my garage last week."
"You still think Max had nothing to do with sabotaging your car this morning?" Frank was beginning to change his mind about Emmy.
"I'm not sure about anything or anybody." Emmy stared hard at Frank.
"How did you know our last name is Hardy? Cronkite
Similar Books
