Read Online Survival Run by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Ads: Link
working on a government project, the Network might have copies of his notes. If we could get the copies from the Gray Man, the Assassins would let Joe go."
Frank stared at her. "That's not what I meant."
"But that's the only way to save Joe," Gina said.
"There has to be another way," Frank insisted. "There's no telling what the Assassins might do with the information in Stavrogin's papers."
"What other choice do we have?" Gina responded. "I'm sure the Gray Man would like to send in his crack team of commandos - but at the first sign of a Network agent, Bob, or whatever his name is, will kill Joe." She shivered. "Behind that smiling mask is a coldblooded killing machine."
"There's no point in arguing now," Frank said, reaching for the door to the motor home. "The first thing we have to do is find the Gray Man."
Frank stepped inside and froze. Someone was there waiting for them, sitting comfortably in a swivel chair.
"Come in and have a seat," the Gray Man said mildly. "We have a lot to talk about."
***
After Boris had thrown him back in the dark, dungeonlike room, Joe stumbled over to the cot and sat down heavily on it. No doubt about it, this was not one of his better days. He had no idea what the Assassins had done with Frank and Gina, and it was just starting to sink in that maybe they were in over their heads this time.
He shook his head and told himself to concentrate on his current problem: How was he going to escape? He touched the wall behind him. It was cold, damp, rough, and carved out of solid rock. There was no escape through that.
Then his eyes were attracted by thin streaks of light that seeped in around the door frame. The door was the only way out. He remembered it had a simple lock. Joe figured the room had probably been a storeroom, and the Assassins hadn't planned on running a prison, so they wouldn't have installed a fancy lock.
That was fine with Joe.
He moved over to the door, knelt down, and unlaced one of his high-top sneakers. Running his eye along the left edge of the door, he located the spot where the bolt crossed the narrow gap between the door and the frame. Digging in his pocket, he found a dime, which he carefully tied onto one end of the shoelace. He removed the gum in his mouth and applied a tiny bit to the dime to hold the shoelace in place. Holding the other end above the level of the bolt, he swung the shoelace slowly back and forth, making sure the dime slipped into the gap just below the bolt on each swing. He swung a little harder each time, the weight of the dime acting as a pendulum.
When Joe had the momentum and the timing just right, he gave the shoelace a sharp snap. The dime zipped through the crack, whipped up and around the bolt, and then sailed back through the gap and into Joe's free hand, bringing the other end of the shoelace with it.
Joe tugged the shoelace tightly over the bolt and then slowly pulled back on the top half of the lace without allowing any slack in the lace. He felt the bolt slip out of the notch.
He took a deep breath and tugged the line to the right. The bolt moved a fraction of an inch. He tugged again. The bolt moved a little more. Carefully he worked the bolt back until it cleared the lock plate on the door frame. Joe pushed the door open an inch and peered out into the tunnel. He couldn't see anyone in either direction. So far, so good. He stepped out of the room and started moving cautiously up the passageway.
When he reached the fork in the tunnel, he heard footsteps and low voices coming from the direction of the mine entrance. He had to get out of sight quickly. There was a door a short way down the other branch. He padded over to it, slid back the bolt, and opened the door just wide enough to slip inside. He pulled the door shut and held the handle tightly, hoping no one would notice or care that the door was unlocked.
"What do you want now?" a weary voice with a heavy Russian accent called out from behind him.
Joe spun
Frank stared at her. "That's not what I meant."
"But that's the only way to save Joe," Gina said.
"There has to be another way," Frank insisted. "There's no telling what the Assassins might do with the information in Stavrogin's papers."
"What other choice do we have?" Gina responded. "I'm sure the Gray Man would like to send in his crack team of commandos - but at the first sign of a Network agent, Bob, or whatever his name is, will kill Joe." She shivered. "Behind that smiling mask is a coldblooded killing machine."
"There's no point in arguing now," Frank said, reaching for the door to the motor home. "The first thing we have to do is find the Gray Man."
Frank stepped inside and froze. Someone was there waiting for them, sitting comfortably in a swivel chair.
"Come in and have a seat," the Gray Man said mildly. "We have a lot to talk about."
***
After Boris had thrown him back in the dark, dungeonlike room, Joe stumbled over to the cot and sat down heavily on it. No doubt about it, this was not one of his better days. He had no idea what the Assassins had done with Frank and Gina, and it was just starting to sink in that maybe they were in over their heads this time.
He shook his head and told himself to concentrate on his current problem: How was he going to escape? He touched the wall behind him. It was cold, damp, rough, and carved out of solid rock. There was no escape through that.
Then his eyes were attracted by thin streaks of light that seeped in around the door frame. The door was the only way out. He remembered it had a simple lock. Joe figured the room had probably been a storeroom, and the Assassins hadn't planned on running a prison, so they wouldn't have installed a fancy lock.
That was fine with Joe.
He moved over to the door, knelt down, and unlaced one of his high-top sneakers. Running his eye along the left edge of the door, he located the spot where the bolt crossed the narrow gap between the door and the frame. Digging in his pocket, he found a dime, which he carefully tied onto one end of the shoelace. He removed the gum in his mouth and applied a tiny bit to the dime to hold the shoelace in place. Holding the other end above the level of the bolt, he swung the shoelace slowly back and forth, making sure the dime slipped into the gap just below the bolt on each swing. He swung a little harder each time, the weight of the dime acting as a pendulum.
When Joe had the momentum and the timing just right, he gave the shoelace a sharp snap. The dime zipped through the crack, whipped up and around the bolt, and then sailed back through the gap and into Joe's free hand, bringing the other end of the shoelace with it.
Joe tugged the shoelace tightly over the bolt and then slowly pulled back on the top half of the lace without allowing any slack in the lace. He felt the bolt slip out of the notch.
He took a deep breath and tugged the line to the right. The bolt moved a fraction of an inch. He tugged again. The bolt moved a little more. Carefully he worked the bolt back until it cleared the lock plate on the door frame. Joe pushed the door open an inch and peered out into the tunnel. He couldn't see anyone in either direction. So far, so good. He stepped out of the room and started moving cautiously up the passageway.
When he reached the fork in the tunnel, he heard footsteps and low voices coming from the direction of the mine entrance. He had to get out of sight quickly. There was a door a short way down the other branch. He padded over to it, slid back the bolt, and opened the door just wide enough to slip inside. He pulled the door shut and held the handle tightly, hoping no one would notice or care that the door was unlocked.
"What do you want now?" a weary voice with a heavy Russian accent called out from behind him.
Joe spun
Similar Books
