Speed Times Five by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

9 Collision Course

* * *

“Hey, you!” Joe called. He sprinted toward the saboteur and threw a punch at the man’s head. The man ducked out of the way and swung the wire cutters at Joe’s face.

Joe reeled back, almost running into Frank as the older Hardy charged forward. Frank spun out of Joe’s way and launched into a martial arts kick.

Frank’s kick caught the man in the right forearm, and the wire cutters flew from the saboteur’s gloved hand. The man staggered back, then turned and hopped over the first bicycle rack.

The Hardys leaped after him. The saboteur cleared three racks in succession like an Olympic hurdler. The brothers charged right after him, but their jumps weren’t as clean. Joe nearly got caught in the last rack, and Frank had to reach out to steady his brother.

The slip allowed the saboteur to open up a big lead on the Hardys. He disappeared into the shadows behind the registration building. Their legs aching, the Hardys sprinted after him.

“Which way did he go?” Joe asked as they skidded to a halt behind the structure. The building was a long log cabin camp office that Vince Bennett had pressed into service for the race crews. The surrounding woods crept up almost to the back of the building. The shadows under the boughs were black as night; those near the cabin were not much brighter. The brothers saw no sign of the saboteur.

“Let’s split up and circle the building,” Frank said. “Whistle if you see him.”

Joe nodded and lit out to the right, while Frank circled left. They met by the vending machines in front of the building without finding anything.

Joe shook his fist in anger. “Whoever he was, he was quick and clever,” Joe said ruefully.

“Maybe not clever enough,” Frank replied, his brown eyes peering into the darkness toward the camping area. He pointed toward a figure moving away from them through the small sea of tents. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

Joe nodded and the two of them sprinted quietly toward the figure. It was hard to keep the man in sight among the darkened tents, but the Hardys quickly closed the distance. Frank motioned that they should circle around either side, and Joe nodded his agreement.

Cutting through the tents, they soon got in front of the man and stepped out simultaneously from either side. The man jumped back as the brothers popped out in front of him.

“Robert Frid,” Joe said, recognizing the man by the light of the distant campfire. “What are you doing lurking around?”

“You almost scared me to death!” Frid said, clutching his chest theatrically. He was wearing a navy blue shirt and pants but no ski mask. His right pocket, though, bulged with an unseen object.

“What do you have in your pocket?” Frank asked.

Frid frowned at the older Hardy. “Popcorn. Not that it’s any of your business. What are you guys doing skulking around?”

“Just a little security patrol,” Joe said. “We found someone tampering with the bikes—and you’re the only person we saw near the bike rack.

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