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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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history."
Chapter 10
Joe looked blankly at the cops and guns. "Freeze?" he repeated, dazed. "What for?"
"Don't get cute with us," the officer growled. He pulled Joe's headset off and took him by the arm, dragging him to his feet and pushing him toward the wall of the building on the corner. "Lean into the building, hands up, legs spread."
Joe did as he was ordered while the officer deftly searched him. "What's this all about?" he asked, hoping he could stop the cop before he came to the microphone. "Look, officer, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. I was just making a run when all of a sudden the bike — "
"Save it," the officer ordered. His fingers closed on the mike taped to Joe's chest. He pulled Joe's shirt open and yanked the mike free. "See this?" he said, turning to the woman. "This guy's got to be one of the nuts we're after."
The woman officer snapped a pair of cuffs on Joe's wrists and turned him around.
"But I don't understand," Joe said loudly, wondering if Frank was picking up any of the conversation. "What do you think I've done?"
"Save it," the woman said sharply. "We know you were after the mayor with that bomb on your bike."
"After the mayor?" Joe repeated. He wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"Come on," the male officer snapped, "you think we're stupid? The mayor's just down the block, talking to a group of small business owners who are bent out of shape because you messengers keep running down people in front of their shops."
"And you think," Joe mumbled, "that I was going to ride a bike with a bomb on it into the mayor's meeting?" He shook his head, trying to clear it.
"You said it," the woman officer said calmly. "We got word that you guys were going to make trouble today. The mike is proof that you're in contact with somebody else." She took Joe's arm and began to walk him toward the squad car. "Unless you've got a better story, kid, you're going to the precinct to tell us who masterminded this stunt."
Joe planted his feet on the pavement. What story could he give them? That he, a seventeen-year-old high school kid, was actually working as a private detective? That he just happened to be disguised as a bicycle messenger? What lousy.
If they took him in, he could forget about the next couple of hours— maybe the rest of the day. He couldn't afford the time away from the case. He had to help Tiffany!
"Listen," he said urgently, "I've got to talk to the chief of police."
The woman's mouth dropped open. "To Chief Peterson?" she asked.
The burly cop barked a short, hard laugh. "This one's really a wacko," he said. He gave Joe a push. "Come on, stop stalling."
Joe took a deep breath. It was now or never, he knew. "My name is Joe Hardy," he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I'm working as a detective undercover. My brother and I helped Chief Peterson solve that epidemic extortion case last year." If he could talk directly to Samuel Peterson, his father's ex-partner, the chief would get him out of this jam in a hurry.
The burly cop took the woman by the sleeve. "How'd he find out about that extortion scheme?" he asked in a low voice. "They hushed that up tight, didn't they?"
The woman shrugged. "The kid sounds looney-tunes to me, but maybe we'd better check it out, just in case."
The officer pushed Joe toward the car. "Into the backseat," he said roughly.
As Joe got into the car, the woman officer slid into the front seat and picked up the microphone. "This is car seven twenty-one," she said. "We have apprehended a suspect. He says his name is Joe Hardy. Claims to be an undercover agent. Wants to talk to Chief Peterson."
There was a long pause as she listened to the static voice of headquarters.
"No, I'm not crazy," the woman said. There was another burst of static. "Yes, I know. But this kid does have some confidential information about a big case last year. We thought we'd better check it out. I'll stand by."
Joe sat back in the seat, watching through the wire screen that
Chapter 10
Joe looked blankly at the cops and guns. "Freeze?" he repeated, dazed. "What for?"
"Don't get cute with us," the officer growled. He pulled Joe's headset off and took him by the arm, dragging him to his feet and pushing him toward the wall of the building on the corner. "Lean into the building, hands up, legs spread."
Joe did as he was ordered while the officer deftly searched him. "What's this all about?" he asked, hoping he could stop the cop before he came to the microphone. "Look, officer, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. I was just making a run when all of a sudden the bike — "
"Save it," the officer ordered. His fingers closed on the mike taped to Joe's chest. He pulled Joe's shirt open and yanked the mike free. "See this?" he said, turning to the woman. "This guy's got to be one of the nuts we're after."
The woman officer snapped a pair of cuffs on Joe's wrists and turned him around.
"But I don't understand," Joe said loudly, wondering if Frank was picking up any of the conversation. "What do you think I've done?"
"Save it," the woman said sharply. "We know you were after the mayor with that bomb on your bike."
"After the mayor?" Joe repeated. He wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"Come on," the male officer snapped, "you think we're stupid? The mayor's just down the block, talking to a group of small business owners who are bent out of shape because you messengers keep running down people in front of their shops."
"And you think," Joe mumbled, "that I was going to ride a bike with a bomb on it into the mayor's meeting?" He shook his head, trying to clear it.
"You said it," the woman officer said calmly. "We got word that you guys were going to make trouble today. The mike is proof that you're in contact with somebody else." She took Joe's arm and began to walk him toward the squad car. "Unless you've got a better story, kid, you're going to the precinct to tell us who masterminded this stunt."
Joe planted his feet on the pavement. What story could he give them? That he, a seventeen-year-old high school kid, was actually working as a private detective? That he just happened to be disguised as a bicycle messenger? What lousy.
If they took him in, he could forget about the next couple of hours— maybe the rest of the day. He couldn't afford the time away from the case. He had to help Tiffany!
"Listen," he said urgently, "I've got to talk to the chief of police."
The woman's mouth dropped open. "To Chief Peterson?" she asked.
The burly cop barked a short, hard laugh. "This one's really a wacko," he said. He gave Joe a push. "Come on, stop stalling."
Joe took a deep breath. It was now or never, he knew. "My name is Joe Hardy," he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I'm working as a detective undercover. My brother and I helped Chief Peterson solve that epidemic extortion case last year." If he could talk directly to Samuel Peterson, his father's ex-partner, the chief would get him out of this jam in a hurry.
The burly cop took the woman by the sleeve. "How'd he find out about that extortion scheme?" he asked in a low voice. "They hushed that up tight, didn't they?"
The woman shrugged. "The kid sounds looney-tunes to me, but maybe we'd better check it out, just in case."
The officer pushed Joe toward the car. "Into the backseat," he said roughly.
As Joe got into the car, the woman officer slid into the front seat and picked up the microphone. "This is car seven twenty-one," she said. "We have apprehended a suspect. He says his name is Joe Hardy. Claims to be an undercover agent. Wants to talk to Chief Peterson."
There was a long pause as she listened to the static voice of headquarters.
"No, I'm not crazy," the woman said. There was another burst of static. "Yes, I know. But this kid does have some confidential information about a big case last year. We thought we'd better check it out. I'll stand by."
Joe sat back in the seat, watching through the wire screen that
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