surrounded by a small wad of explosive. The exposed charge dangled from the timer box at chest level, sure to kill him if it went off. Frank pushed the thought from his mind and scratched away to find the next connection.
"One to go," he breathed. But dig as he would, he couldn't find a wire.
"Come on ... " At last, a wire! But where was the detonator? He traced the wire as far as hedared lean, and it didn't end. "We'll have to set up around the other side of the pillar," he said.
It wasn't easy to reassemble the pyramid without resting first, but Frank was insistent. "We can't wait for this. I'm not sure about all these circuits." Frank climbed into the new position, digging away. There was the detonator, halfway around the pillar. With delicate moves, he worked to isolate it.
Below him, Chet Morton began to moan. "Chet?" Joe turned to his partner in the pyramid.
Chet was gasping, and his shoulders trembled. "I wasn't kidding about aftereffects," he managed to choke out. "I think I'm going to. . ." His hands slid against the surface of the pillar, and the whole pyramid swayed sickeningly.
At the top, Frank lurched, clutched, and pulled the wire free. An insistent beeping started inside the timer.
"Callie! Get a foot onto my shoulder! Tony, shift over!" Joe commanded, grunting as he took the extra weight. Chet, ashen-faced, was able to bear up under the reduced load.
"Frank, what's going on up there?" Joe wheezed, leaning his head into the pillar. "Tamper alarm." Frank Hardy stared in horror. "It's gonna blow." He reached out as far as he could, grabbed the wire, and pulled. The timer ripped free. "Everybody down!" The pyramid disintegrated beneath him.
Frank landed on his feet, sprinting to the door. "Get behind the pillar! Hands over ears!" Was it his imagination, or were the beeps growing louder? He slapped the explosive-coated detonators around the doorknob. Was it enough plastique? Or too much?
"How much time?" Joe asked, peering around the pillar. Frank was already running back. "None." Behind him, the door erupted!
Chapter 16
FRANK HARDY STARED fuzzily around him. The blast had sent him flying onto the sprawled bodies of his friends. They lay on the floor, coughing from the dust and smoke, looking like a bunch of coal miners. He pulled himself up to examine the door. Had the plan worked?
His heart almost stopped when he saw the door still standing. Then he saw the smoking holes around the doorknob.
The bolt in the lock still held the section with the doorknob in place. But the door itself had been blown loose by the plastique. All they had to do was pull on it.
"Ouch!" Frank croaked, yanking his fingers away. "It's hot!"
Using a piece of torn jacket to protect his hands, Frank pulled the door free. "Now! Up!" he said.
They rushed up the stairs, then onto the Food Floor. The cavernous black pit they'd crossed the night before was flooded with light, packed with people, and full of noise. The rally had started!
"How will we ever get through?" Callie said. "I'll show you," Joe said, ramming his way into the crowd.
Some people gave them angry looks as the Hardys and their friends shoved them aside. Many more gave way nervously at the sight of five dirty, tired-looking kids in rumpled clothes.
At last they reached the police barricades and climbed right over. "Hey, you little punks!" Officer Con Riley froze in surprise. "Joe? Frank?"
"Let us pass, Con," Joe said, darting around him. "This is an urgent message." He turned to the podium and stared. It was empty.
Then a lane opened in the crowd on the opposite side of the floor. People began chanting "WALKER, WALKER!" "Looks like the candidate was delayed," Frank said.
Waving from the middle of a police escort was Philip Walker, accompanied by Fenton Hardy. And hustling them along, with frequent worried glances at his watch, was Al-Rousasa, alias Inspector S. Butler.
"STOP THAT MAN!" Joe yelled, pointing at Butler. He, Frank, and the others rushed around
"One to go," he breathed. But dig as he would, he couldn't find a wire.
"Come on ... " At last, a wire! But where was the detonator? He traced the wire as far as hedared lean, and it didn't end. "We'll have to set up around the other side of the pillar," he said.
It wasn't easy to reassemble the pyramid without resting first, but Frank was insistent. "We can't wait for this. I'm not sure about all these circuits." Frank climbed into the new position, digging away. There was the detonator, halfway around the pillar. With delicate moves, he worked to isolate it.
Below him, Chet Morton began to moan. "Chet?" Joe turned to his partner in the pyramid.
Chet was gasping, and his shoulders trembled. "I wasn't kidding about aftereffects," he managed to choke out. "I think I'm going to. . ." His hands slid against the surface of the pillar, and the whole pyramid swayed sickeningly.
At the top, Frank lurched, clutched, and pulled the wire free. An insistent beeping started inside the timer.
"Callie! Get a foot onto my shoulder! Tony, shift over!" Joe commanded, grunting as he took the extra weight. Chet, ashen-faced, was able to bear up under the reduced load.
"Frank, what's going on up there?" Joe wheezed, leaning his head into the pillar. "Tamper alarm." Frank Hardy stared in horror. "It's gonna blow." He reached out as far as he could, grabbed the wire, and pulled. The timer ripped free. "Everybody down!" The pyramid disintegrated beneath him.
Frank landed on his feet, sprinting to the door. "Get behind the pillar! Hands over ears!" Was it his imagination, or were the beeps growing louder? He slapped the explosive-coated detonators around the doorknob. Was it enough plastique? Or too much?
"How much time?" Joe asked, peering around the pillar. Frank was already running back. "None." Behind him, the door erupted!
Chapter 16
FRANK HARDY STARED fuzzily around him. The blast had sent him flying onto the sprawled bodies of his friends. They lay on the floor, coughing from the dust and smoke, looking like a bunch of coal miners. He pulled himself up to examine the door. Had the plan worked?
His heart almost stopped when he saw the door still standing. Then he saw the smoking holes around the doorknob.
The bolt in the lock still held the section with the doorknob in place. But the door itself had been blown loose by the plastique. All they had to do was pull on it.
"Ouch!" Frank croaked, yanking his fingers away. "It's hot!"
Using a piece of torn jacket to protect his hands, Frank pulled the door free. "Now! Up!" he said.
They rushed up the stairs, then onto the Food Floor. The cavernous black pit they'd crossed the night before was flooded with light, packed with people, and full of noise. The rally had started!
"How will we ever get through?" Callie said. "I'll show you," Joe said, ramming his way into the crowd.
Some people gave them angry looks as the Hardys and their friends shoved them aside. Many more gave way nervously at the sight of five dirty, tired-looking kids in rumpled clothes.
At last they reached the police barricades and climbed right over. "Hey, you little punks!" Officer Con Riley froze in surprise. "Joe? Frank?"
"Let us pass, Con," Joe said, darting around him. "This is an urgent message." He turned to the podium and stared. It was empty.
Then a lane opened in the crowd on the opposite side of the floor. People began chanting "WALKER, WALKER!" "Looks like the candidate was delayed," Frank said.
Waving from the middle of a police escort was Philip Walker, accompanied by Fenton Hardy. And hustling them along, with frequent worried glances at his watch, was Al-Rousasa, alias Inspector S. Butler.
"STOP THAT MAN!" Joe yelled, pointing at Butler. He, Frank, and the others rushed around
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