The Hardy Boys Casefiles : Dead on Target

Chapter 1

"GET OUT OF my way, Frank!" Joe Hardy shoved past his brother, shouting to be heard over the roar of the flames. Straight ahead, a huge fireball rose like a mushroom cloud over the parking lot. Flames shot fifty feet into the air, dropping chunks of wreckage-wreckage that just a moment earlier had been their yellow sedan. "Iola's in there! We've got to get her out!"             

 Frank stared, his lean face frozen in shock, as his younger brother ran straight for the billowing flames. Then he raced after Joe, catching him in a flying tackle twenty feet away from the blaze. Even at that distance they could feel the heat. 

 "Do you want to get yourself killed?" Frank yelled, rising to his knees. 

Joe remained silent, his blue eyes staring at the wall of flame, his blond hair mussed by the fall.

 Frank hauled his brother around, making Joe face him. "She wouldn't have lasted a second," he said, trying to soften the blow. "Face it, Joe."

 For an instant, Frank thought the message had gotten through. Joe sagged against the concrete. Then he surged up again, eyes wild. "No! I can save her! Let go!"

 Before Joe could get to his feet, Frank tackled him again, sending both of them tumbling along the ground. Joe began struggling, thrashing against his brother's grip. With near-maniacal strength, he broke Frank's hold, then started throwing wild punches at his brother, almost as if he were grateful to have a physical enemy to attack.  

Frank blocked the flailing blows, lunging forward to grab Joe again. But a fist pounded through his guard, catching him full in the mouth. Frank flopped on his back, stunned, as his brother lurched to his feet and staggered toward the inferno. 

 Painfully pulling himself up, Frank wiped something wet from his lips - blood. He sprinted after Joe, blindly snatching at his T-shirt. The fabric tore loose in his hand. 

Forcing himself farther into the glare and suffocating heat, Frank managed to get a grip on his brother's arm. Joe didn't even try to shake free. He just pulled both of them closer to the flames. 

 The air was so hot it scorched Frank's throat as he gasped for breath. He flipped Joe free, throwing him off balance. Then he wrapped one arm around Joe's neck and cocked the other back, flashing in a karate blow. Joe went limp in his brother's arms. 

As Frank dragged them both out of danger, he heard the wail of sirens in the distance. We should never have come, he thought, never.  

Just an hour before, Joe had jammed the brakes on the car, stopping in front of the mall. "So this is why we had to come here," he exclaimed. "They're having a rally! Give me a break, Iola."

 "You knew we were working on the campaign." Iola grinned, looking like a little dark-haired pixie. "Would you have come if we'd told you?" 

 "No way! What do you think, we're going to stand around handing out Walker for President buttons? "Joe scowled at his girlfriend.  

"Actually, they're leaflets," Callie Shaw said from the backseat. She leaned forward to peer at herself in the rear-view mirror and ran her fingers hastily through her short brown hair. 

 "So that's what you've got stuck between us!" Frank rapped the cardboard box on the seat. 

"I thought you liked Walker," said Callie.

 "He's all right," Frank admitted. "He looked good on TV last night, saying we should fight back against terrorists. At least he's not a wimp."  

"That antiterrorism thing has gotten a lot of coverage," Iola said. "Besides ... " 

" ... He's cute," Frank cut in, mimicking Iola. "The most gorgeous politician I've ever seen."