Read Online The Crisscross Crime by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page A

copy machine. Why would bank robbers be involved in counterfeiting?
    Con suddenly turned back toward the door. Frank and Joe heard the same thing he did—lots of commotion outside.
    An officer burst into the room. “Con!” he shouted. “Come on! The alarm’s going off at Empire Federal!”
    Con sprinted out. “Which branch?” he called.
    The Hardys heard the other officer’s answer. “Out on Ridge Road.” Then the voices were lost under the clamor of slamming car doors and gunning engines.
    No discussion was needed. “I’ll drive,” Frank said as the brothers rushed to the van to join in the chase.
    Frank bounced the van over the curb and into the street in hot pursuit of three or four police cruisers.
    â€œThey’re taking Smith Street north,” Joe said. “That must be the quickest way to Ridge.”
    Passenger cars up ahead pulled over to let the police cruisers fly past. The Hardys followed before the opening in traffic closed.
    â€œI could use blocking like this in football games,” Joe joked.
    â€œYou’d get a lot more yards if you didn’t trip over your own shoelaces,” Frank teased. He cut the wheel hard to the left, keeping a safe distance as the screaming cruisers up ahead pitched single file onto Ridge and roared up the street.
    Frank’s tone got serious. “Answer the phone,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe phone, it’s ringing.”
    â€œOops, didn’t hear it.” Joe flipped open the cell phone. “Yes?” he said loudly, his finger in his free ear to block out the sirens.
    â€œJoe, it’s Biff. You got to get over here, man.”
    â€œWe’re kind of in the middle of something,” Joe shouted.
    Biff’s voice sounded urgent. “I’m downtown,” he said. “At the sub shop. There’s a freaky-looking guy across the street, and I’m positive he’s casing out Empire Federal.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œJoe, I’m not imagining things. You’ve got to get over here. I called the cops, but they blew me off.”
    â€œHang tight,” Joe said, flipping the phone closed.
    â€œTurn around,” he said to Frank.
    â€œWhat’re you talking about? We’re almost there.”
    â€œI think the police are headed to the wrong branch of Empire Federal,” Joe said. “Biff spotted somebody casing the downtown branch.”
    Frank had to make a decision. If they quit following the police now, they would miss out on what was happening at the Ridge Street branch. “Biff says he saw something suspicious? That’s all we’re going on?”
    Joe nodded.
    Frank clenched his jaw and hit the brakes. As the van skidded to a stop, he wrenched the wheel around and gunned the engine. Seconds later they were headed back in the direction they had come from—toward downtown Bayport.
    â€œI hope Biff’s right,” Frank said.
    Downtown, everything seemed strangely quiet compared to the wailing of the police sirens. Frank pulled the van to the curb about half a block from the sub shop.
    The Hardys got out, acting casual, then walked over to meet Biff. Without being too obvious, they glanced over at the stately, four-story stone building that housed the downtown branch of Empire Federal Bank. Few other people were out on the sidewalks in the midafternoon heat, and the Hardys didn’t see anyone outside the bank.
    They found Biff sitting at a window booth in the sub shop. From there he had a clear view of the front entrance to the bank.
    â€œOkay,” Frank said, settling into the booth. “What’s up?”
    Biff leaned forward, his huge shoulders hunched up by his ears. “He was over there, I swear.”
    Joe threw up his hands. “You mean he’s gone now?”
    Biff looked embarrassed. “He was really creepy looking, Joe. He had thick red hair, you know. It was, like, all over the