swayed-Brushing sweat from his brow, he steadied himself. "I'll explain some other time. Right now I need the crown for a trade. Where is it?"
"They haven't got it," Charity said. "And they , ( claim they don't know where it is."
The news shook him. "But I watched them steal it."
Charity nodded. "Me, too. But all they came out with was this." She held up the crown. "A counterfeit. Not even gold."
"I know," said Hugh. "That's what I want." He stepped forward, stretching out his hand, but every step was a bit shakier.
"It's worthless," Joe said, bewildered. "You need the real one."
"That one's only worth thousands. This one's worth millions," his uncle explained. "To Starkey, anyway, and to our government." He neared Charity. "Hand it over."
"Sure," she said and reached out to drop the crown into his hand. At the last second she snatched it away. "Kwan!" she shouted, throwing it across the room.
Kwan caught the crown, and Hugh spun to aim at him. In that instant Charity kicked out, jabbing Hunt behind the knee with her heel. His legs buckled beneath him. He hit the floor with a loud thud, and the gun skidded from his hand.
Trying to gather his wits, Hugh crawled for his gun, but Kwan darted across the room and kicked the weapon out of his grasp. On his hands and knees, Hugh continued toward it, but Kwan barred his way to the weapon. The Chinese-American laughed as Hugh Hunt tried to pull himself up by grabbing Kwan's hand for support.
Suddenly Kwan's face twisted with pain. He sank to his knees as the boys' uncle rose up, his thumb and index finger pinching Kwan's hand. Thrilled, Joe realized his uncle had been faking his weakness to gain the advantage. Hugh shoved Kwan away and snatched the crown from him as he fell.
Charity scrambled for her gun, but Hugh reached his first. He spun and fired.
The floor light shattered, plunging the room into darkness. In a flash Hugh was out the door with the crown. "Kwan!" Charity shouted angrily. "Get up! After him! I'm not passing up a chance at millions."
The Hardys heard Kwan groan, followed by the noise of the big man getting to his feet. Then came pounding footsteps as he followed Charity out.
"What about us?" Joe called after them. There was no answer but the slamming of the downstairs door, followed by silence. "What about us?" he muttered in desperation, although no one but Frank could hear.
With a sizzle, acid dripped past him, burning a scar in his chair.
Chapter 16
Joe strained to move his chair, but the old wooden frame was too heavy to budge. A drop of acid spattered and hissed on the floor. He looked up into the darkness. The metal of the lamp was starting to go. They had minutes, perhaps seconds, until the acid dissolved the lamp and came raining down on them. "I can't overturn the chair," he told Frank. "Maybe I can stand up."
"Don't waste your time," Frank said. "If you're tied like me, you don't have the leverage. Are your hands tied in back of the chair?"
"Yes."
"Good. Try to grab my hands," Frank ordered. They strained until their hands touched, and their fingers locked together. "I keep telling you, Joe. Leverage will get you out of situations where strength won't do any good. Singly, all we have is strength. Together, we have leverage. Push."
They leaned back until the backs of their chairs touched each other, and then, slowly, they forced the chair feet back, too. Pressed against each other, they stood. Acid spattered all around them now, spitting liquid fire on their clothes, but they ignored the pain.
"Right?" Joe asked.
"Right to you, left to me," Frank said. "One. Two. Three. Shift." At the same instant, they threw their weight to the sides of the chairs, pushing up with their feet.
The chairs toppled over, throwing them to the floor on their sides as acid poured down on the spot where they had sat seconds before.
"You all right?" Frank asked.
"I'll need a new pair of shoes," said Joe, glancing at the steam rising where the acid had
"They haven't got it," Charity said. "And they , ( claim they don't know where it is."
The news shook him. "But I watched them steal it."
Charity nodded. "Me, too. But all they came out with was this." She held up the crown. "A counterfeit. Not even gold."
"I know," said Hugh. "That's what I want." He stepped forward, stretching out his hand, but every step was a bit shakier.
"It's worthless," Joe said, bewildered. "You need the real one."
"That one's only worth thousands. This one's worth millions," his uncle explained. "To Starkey, anyway, and to our government." He neared Charity. "Hand it over."
"Sure," she said and reached out to drop the crown into his hand. At the last second she snatched it away. "Kwan!" she shouted, throwing it across the room.
Kwan caught the crown, and Hugh spun to aim at him. In that instant Charity kicked out, jabbing Hunt behind the knee with her heel. His legs buckled beneath him. He hit the floor with a loud thud, and the gun skidded from his hand.
Trying to gather his wits, Hugh crawled for his gun, but Kwan darted across the room and kicked the weapon out of his grasp. On his hands and knees, Hugh continued toward it, but Kwan barred his way to the weapon. The Chinese-American laughed as Hugh Hunt tried to pull himself up by grabbing Kwan's hand for support.
Suddenly Kwan's face twisted with pain. He sank to his knees as the boys' uncle rose up, his thumb and index finger pinching Kwan's hand. Thrilled, Joe realized his uncle had been faking his weakness to gain the advantage. Hugh shoved Kwan away and snatched the crown from him as he fell.
Charity scrambled for her gun, but Hugh reached his first. He spun and fired.
The floor light shattered, plunging the room into darkness. In a flash Hugh was out the door with the crown. "Kwan!" Charity shouted angrily. "Get up! After him! I'm not passing up a chance at millions."
The Hardys heard Kwan groan, followed by the noise of the big man getting to his feet. Then came pounding footsteps as he followed Charity out.
"What about us?" Joe called after them. There was no answer but the slamming of the downstairs door, followed by silence. "What about us?" he muttered in desperation, although no one but Frank could hear.
With a sizzle, acid dripped past him, burning a scar in his chair.
Chapter 16
Joe strained to move his chair, but the old wooden frame was too heavy to budge. A drop of acid spattered and hissed on the floor. He looked up into the darkness. The metal of the lamp was starting to go. They had minutes, perhaps seconds, until the acid dissolved the lamp and came raining down on them. "I can't overturn the chair," he told Frank. "Maybe I can stand up."
"Don't waste your time," Frank said. "If you're tied like me, you don't have the leverage. Are your hands tied in back of the chair?"
"Yes."
"Good. Try to grab my hands," Frank ordered. They strained until their hands touched, and their fingers locked together. "I keep telling you, Joe. Leverage will get you out of situations where strength won't do any good. Singly, all we have is strength. Together, we have leverage. Push."
They leaned back until the backs of their chairs touched each other, and then, slowly, they forced the chair feet back, too. Pressed against each other, they stood. Acid spattered all around them now, spitting liquid fire on their clothes, but they ignored the pain.
"Right?" Joe asked.
"Right to you, left to me," Frank said. "One. Two. Three. Shift." At the same instant, they threw their weight to the sides of the chairs, pushing up with their feet.
The chairs toppled over, throwing them to the floor on their sides as acid poured down on the spot where they had sat seconds before.
"You all right?" Frank asked.
"I'll need a new pair of shoes," said Joe, glancing at the steam rising where the acid had
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