Shadows at Predator Reef by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

being sealed.
    Or was it? There was still a crack of light through the door where it should have been shut tight.
    â€œWhat the—” I could hear Burris say through the other side of the door. He was trying to shove it closed, but it wouldn’t budge the last couple of inches. That’s because the tire iron Jonathan had been carrying was wedged in the corner. Jonathan had dropped it when Burris conked him on the head. Burris hadn’t seen it. But we had.
    â€œNow!” I yelled. Not that Frank needed the cue. He’d already launched into motion along with me the instant he realized the tire iron was stuck in the door. Burris saw us coming and jammed the flare gun through the opening in the door to shoot. Frank and I both slammed into the door at the same time, sending him flying backward before he had a chance to pull the trigger. We barreled through the door and out of the container into freedom. I never thought fishy air could smell so sweet.
    Not that I had much time to savor it. Burris was back on his feet and diving for the flare gun he’d dropped in the container’s doorway. I dove for it too. Burris got there first.
    He grabbed the gun and stepped back as he lifted the weapon to shoot. He wasn’t paying attention to where he had been standing, though, and tripped over Jonathan’s body, tumbling backward through the door and into the container.
    My brother and I leaped into action. I quickly reached my foot around and kicked the tire iron outside the container asFrank slammed the door shut and threw the bolt, locking Burris inside.
    Mr. V’s butler had still managed to get revenge on Burris even though he was out cold. I’d have to make sure to thank him later when he woke up.
    I think it took Burris a second to realize his predicament before he started banging on the door, demanding to be let out. Yeah, right. I had to smile.
    â€œWhat do you think, bro? Should we see if Captain Lau has room on his ship for some additional cargo?” I asked Frank.
    â€œDon’t ships usually try to get rid of their human waste, not pick more up?”
    â€œCome on, guys, you know I was just kidding about the slave labor thing, right?” I could hear Burris’s muffled laugh from inside the container.
    â€œSure, Ron,” I said back. “We were kidding too. We’re turning you in to Chief Olaf, not Captain Lau.”
    â€œBe reasonable, guys. Can’t we work out a deal? We’ll split the proceeds from the turtle sale. You boys will be rich.”
    â€œTell us where Captain Hook is, Burris,” I said.
    â€œSure thing, guys, no problem, soon as you let me out. . . .”
    â€œYou’re not going anywhere. Now where is she?” Frank demanded.
    â€œWait, wait, how about this? I give you guys the turtle and we can split the reward money. That’s fair, right?”
    I could tell he was pressed right up against the door,so I gave it a good whack with the tire iron to set his ears ringing.
    â€œOw! Okay, okay, I take that as a no. You can keep the reward money. I don’t need it. You can just let me out and I’ll show you where the turtle is and we’ll keep this whole misunderstanding between ourselves, okay? There’s no need to even mention me.”
    â€œThis isn’t a negotiation. We just want the turtle,” I said.
    â€œAs long as we each have something the other wants, it’s still a negotiation,” he said.
    He had us there.
    â€œYou want to know where the turtle is and I want to get out of here, right?” he continued. “So I give you the turtle and you let me go free. You see, we’re negotiating! Everybody wins!”
    Even if we did take a chance and trust him to actually show us where Captain Hook was—which, by the way, we didn’t—he still had that flare gun and was as likely as not to light us up like a couple of sparklers the second we opened the door.
    â€œCome