motorcyclist drew farther away. As he picked up speed, he gave a quick glance over his shoulder, as if to taunt the Hardys.
Thump! All of a sudden the motorcycle skidded to the left, swerving to avoid an open door on the right. The rider hit the car on the left and went flying onto the car's hood.
Frank and Joe watched as the briefcase hurtled into the air and made a crash landing on the ground.
Clutching his stomach, the motorcyclist rolled off the car hood. Frank and Joe both bolted out of the van and ran for the briefcase.
And at the same time, there was a screeching of tires in the traffic going in the opposite direction.
"Frank! Joe!" a familiar voice called out.
The brothers looked to their left. Cars going in the opposite direction were stopping to avoid a collision with a car that had halted in the fast lane — a car driven by Callie! Frank and Joe looked disbelievingly at her as she waved hello.
Around her, motorists blew their horns and screamed heatedly.
In that moment of distraction the motorcyclist had risen to his feet. Frank and Joe dove for the briefcase.
"Got it!" Frank grinned triumphantly as his fingers closed around the leather handle.
"Way to go!" Joe shouted.
Immediately they sprang to their feet, ready to do battle with the motorcyclist.
But he'd disappeared from in front of them. "Wha — Where'd he go?" Joe said, straining to see into the distance.
" Yeeeeaaaagh!" A scream rang out. Frank and Joe turned to their left.
There, where they had just seen Callie, was the motorcyclist, his arm firmly around Callie's neck!
"Don't try anything!" the man called in a gravelly voice, a snub-nosed automatic appearing in his other hand. "I'll use this if I have to." He backed up toward his motorcycle, which lay in the center of the road on the double yellow line.
As dozens of motorists stared dumbfounded, the motorcyclist looked at Frank and Joe from behind his dark goggles. Slowly he walked backward, clutching Callie.
"I'm backing up to my bike," he said. "And I expect to be met there by you two young gentlemen—with that briefcase. Understand?"
Frank and Joe hesitated. Immediately the motorcyclist tightened his grip on Callie's throat. She gagged and flailed with her arms, trying to break free.
"Of course, you don't have to listen to me," the man said with a demonic grin. "You can take the briefcase with you. But you'd better say a final goodbye to your little girlfriend—right now!"
Callie's eyes pleaded desperately. But as the man yanked her backward toward the bike, Frank stood, unmoving. With only seconds to decide what to do, Frank seemed to have become paralyzed.
Chapter 15
"FRANK! DO SOMETHING!" Joe whispered harshly.
Frank's eyes jumped to Callie. He tried to think of a scheme, a way to keep both the evidence and save Callie. But he realized there was no choice.
Slowly, he walked toward the motorcyclist, holding the briefcase out to him.
The motorcyclist stopped walking backward. "No bluffing, kid," he threatened. "Or you'll be sorry."
"No bluffing, Clifton," Frank said soberly. He held out the briefcase, but the cyclist made no move to take it. "How did you — "
"You gave yourself away," Frank told him. "Making the assumption that Callie was my girlfriend. A stranger would just as easily have paired her with Joe. But you met us before, at the Shore Inn. So you knew who she went with—and told me who you were, even in that biker disguise with the space helmet on."
"Very clever — but I'm getting the evidence. Take it, Callie," Clifton told his prisoner. "You'll tote it for me." Maintaining his grip on her neck, with the gun still held against her, he continued walking backward.
"Hey! What about her?" Frank asked.
"Don't worry," Clifton said with a sadistic laugh. "You'll get her as soon as I get to my bike. Fair enough?"
Right then two sharp sounds cut through the air—like a pair of gunshots.
"Lying little—" Clifton fell to the ground, dragging Callie down with
Thump! All of a sudden the motorcycle skidded to the left, swerving to avoid an open door on the right. The rider hit the car on the left and went flying onto the car's hood.
Frank and Joe watched as the briefcase hurtled into the air and made a crash landing on the ground.
Clutching his stomach, the motorcyclist rolled off the car hood. Frank and Joe both bolted out of the van and ran for the briefcase.
And at the same time, there was a screeching of tires in the traffic going in the opposite direction.
"Frank! Joe!" a familiar voice called out.
The brothers looked to their left. Cars going in the opposite direction were stopping to avoid a collision with a car that had halted in the fast lane — a car driven by Callie! Frank and Joe looked disbelievingly at her as she waved hello.
Around her, motorists blew their horns and screamed heatedly.
In that moment of distraction the motorcyclist had risen to his feet. Frank and Joe dove for the briefcase.
"Got it!" Frank grinned triumphantly as his fingers closed around the leather handle.
"Way to go!" Joe shouted.
Immediately they sprang to their feet, ready to do battle with the motorcyclist.
But he'd disappeared from in front of them. "Wha — Where'd he go?" Joe said, straining to see into the distance.
" Yeeeeaaaagh!" A scream rang out. Frank and Joe turned to their left.
There, where they had just seen Callie, was the motorcyclist, his arm firmly around Callie's neck!
"Don't try anything!" the man called in a gravelly voice, a snub-nosed automatic appearing in his other hand. "I'll use this if I have to." He backed up toward his motorcycle, which lay in the center of the road on the double yellow line.
As dozens of motorists stared dumbfounded, the motorcyclist looked at Frank and Joe from behind his dark goggles. Slowly he walked backward, clutching Callie.
"I'm backing up to my bike," he said. "And I expect to be met there by you two young gentlemen—with that briefcase. Understand?"
Frank and Joe hesitated. Immediately the motorcyclist tightened his grip on Callie's throat. She gagged and flailed with her arms, trying to break free.
"Of course, you don't have to listen to me," the man said with a demonic grin. "You can take the briefcase with you. But you'd better say a final goodbye to your little girlfriend—right now!"
Callie's eyes pleaded desperately. But as the man yanked her backward toward the bike, Frank stood, unmoving. With only seconds to decide what to do, Frank seemed to have become paralyzed.
Chapter 15
"FRANK! DO SOMETHING!" Joe whispered harshly.
Frank's eyes jumped to Callie. He tried to think of a scheme, a way to keep both the evidence and save Callie. But he realized there was no choice.
Slowly, he walked toward the motorcyclist, holding the briefcase out to him.
The motorcyclist stopped walking backward. "No bluffing, kid," he threatened. "Or you'll be sorry."
"No bluffing, Clifton," Frank said soberly. He held out the briefcase, but the cyclist made no move to take it. "How did you — "
"You gave yourself away," Frank told him. "Making the assumption that Callie was my girlfriend. A stranger would just as easily have paired her with Joe. But you met us before, at the Shore Inn. So you knew who she went with—and told me who you were, even in that biker disguise with the space helmet on."
"Very clever — but I'm getting the evidence. Take it, Callie," Clifton told his prisoner. "You'll tote it for me." Maintaining his grip on her neck, with the gun still held against her, he continued walking backward.
"Hey! What about her?" Frank asked.
"Don't worry," Clifton said with a sadistic laugh. "You'll get her as soon as I get to my bike. Fair enough?"
Right then two sharp sounds cut through the air—like a pair of gunshots.
"Lying little—" Clifton fell to the ground, dragging Callie down with
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