Trouble in Warp Space by Franklin W. Dixon

problems we don’t know about.”
    “I’ll admit, he wasn’t at the top of my suspects list,” Frank said, “but I’ve got the bruises to prove he was up to no good.”
    “So, where is he?” Chet asked.
    “He got away,” Joe said, “after pushing Frank off the engine room balcony.”
    “Good thing Joe caught me,” Frank said, “though I wish we could have stopped Pekar, too.”
    “Maybe he’s still on the lot,” Iola suggested. “We should call the front gate.”
    “Good idea,” said Joe. They found a studio phone and called the guard post. “We’re in luck,” he said, hanging up. “They say Pekar hasn’t left.”
    “Let’s find him, then,” Chet said. “We’ll split up and—”
    “No,” Frank said. “He’s a kung fu expert. We should stick together.”
    “Maybe he headed for the makeup room,” Iola said.
    “That would make sense,” Joe said. “He’d probably want to remove his mask, as well as cover up any other evidence before leaving.”
    The teens walked through the darkened soundstage toward the door leading to the makeup room in the adjoining brick building.
    They hadn’t gone too far, though, when Iola spotted someone hunkered in the shadows beside the stage wall. Joe and Frank sprinted forward, ready to resume their fight.
    “All right, Pekar,” Joe said, “this is where you get your comeuppance!”
    Pekar was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his legs splayed out in front of him. He didn’t respond.
    “Joe,” Frank said, “he’s out cold.”

12 A Shocking Turn
    “How can he be unconscious?” Chet said. “You said he was fighting with you just a few minutes ago.”
    “Maybe we hurt him more than we thought,” Joe suggested.
    “I don’t think so, Joe,” Frank said. “If he passed out after the fight, where’s his mask?”
    “What mask?” Iola asked.
    “The alien getup we saw him in earlier,” Joe said. “He was wearing it when we fought.”
    “Well, I don’t see it anywhere,” Chet said.
    “He was wearing gloves when we fought, too,” Frank said.
    Joe nodded. “But he’s not now. And his clothes are different.”
    “He’s coming around,” Iola said.
    Sure enough, Stan Pekar coughed and his eyes fluttered open. “Who hit me?” he asked groggily.
    Frank and Joe looked at each other. “You mean in the engine room?” Frank asked.
    “Engine room?” Pekar said groggily. “What are you talking about?”
    Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you just . . . see us on the engine room set?”
    Pekar shook his head and winced. “I don’t think so. I’d finished with the sets and was headed back to makeup. . . . Then suddenly I’m seeing stars.” He gingerly rubbed the back of his skull.
    “Did you leave your mask somewhere?” Joe asked.
    “No, I’m still . . .” Pekar touched his face with his fingers. “Hey! Where’s my mask?”
    “Someone took it,” Frank said.
    “And then got into a running battle with us throughout the soundstage,” Joe added.
    “Did you get him?” Pekar asked. He struggled to stand. Chet and Iola helped him to his feet.
    “No,” Frank said. “He got away.”
    “Not before busting up some sets, though,” Joe added.
    Pekar rolled his eyes. “Oh, no! That’s the last thing we need!”
    “We thought we were fighting you,” Frank said. “He was wearing your mask.”
    “I wouldn’t last two rounds with you guys,” Pekar said.
    “Well, this guy went the distance,” Joe said, “and then some. We were lucky to get away with just bruises.”
    “Big guy, was he?” Pekar asked. He was looking more alert by the moment.
    “Not really,” Frank said, and realized the man they had been fighting was much slimmer than Pekar. “But he knew what he was doing in a fight.”
    “He knew his way around the sets, too,” Joe said.
    Pekar rubbed the back of his head again. “I’d say he was pretty good at clubbing people from behind, as well.”
    “Why’d he take the mask, though?”