The Hardy Boys Casefiles : Dead on Target

Chapter 13

"TURN OFF THOSE flashlights!" Frank's voice never rose above a whisper, but it had the force of a cracking whip.

Frank took Callie's hand in the sudden darkness and led her back to the group. "We all move slowly and quietly to the right," he said, his voice barely audible.

They crept to the shelter of a big planter with a potted tree. "I guess he hasn't seen us yet, or we'd have been shot with darts," Frank said. "Do we split up to search?" Joe asked.

"Maybe we should - " Whatever Chet had been about to suggest was cut off by the sound of a store grille rattling up. It came from about a quarter of the way around the circle.

"Builder's Paradise-the hardware store," Joe whispered.

They inched forward until they could see the beam of a flashlight. A figure stepped from the store, burdened with a bag in each hand and a roll of wire over one shoulder. The flashlight was held awkwardly in the left hand, pointing downward. It gave enough light to show that the figure was male, but it failed to show the face.

Whoever it was turned away from them, heading for the escalator to the lower level.

Joe leaped to his feet. "Al-Rousasa!" he screamed impulsively, aiming his dart gun.

The figure whirled as Joe fired. The dart glittered in the beam of the flashlight but imbedded itself in the roll of wire.

Al-Rousasa didn't waste a second. He dumped the wire on the floor, tossing down a bag and the flashlight as well. The flashlight rolled on the floor, illuminating the search party as they charged along.

The Assassin ducked as Chet fired at him. He rolled behind a planter, digging into his remaining bag. When he popped up from behind the cover, a gun was in his hand. "Watch out!" Frank yelled.

But even as he did so, Chet gave a choking cry, throwing out his arms. He crumpled to the floor.

Callie fell to her knees beside Chet and dragged him behind a bench, as Frank stood over them, his gun aimed at the planter. Al-Rousasa had ducked down again. Tony crept forward, looking for a shot, while Joe frantically reloaded.

"Chet's unconscious, but still breathing," Callie reported. "He's been hit with a dart."

"A knockout dart for the dogs," Frank said. "We're lucky he wasn't carrying something more lethal." He snagged the bag the Assassin had dropped. Inside were plastic-wrapped blocks of what felt like clay - clay with a pungent smell, when he opened one of the packs.

"What is that stuff?" Callie asked.

"Plastique," Frank replied. "Plastic explosive." He raised his voice, calling to Al-Rousasa.

"We know why you're here. And we know that you only have a dart gun. We outnumber you, so why don't you just give up?"

Tony Prito had reached a place where he could both cover the escalator and get a shot behind the planter. "He's not there!" he shouted. "He got away!"

Frank threw down the bag of plastique. "Fan out!" he yelled. "We've got to catch this guy."

"What about Chet?" Callie said.

"He'll be out for the next couple of hours. We'll have to leave him." Frank stepped forward in a crouch, his gun drawn.

"We'd have seen if he decided to walk down the escalator." Joe stood beside his brother, his gun reloaded.

"And we'd have heard if he pulled another of those grille things up," Tony said. "He's probably lying very still, just hoping we'll miss him in the dark," said Callie as she caught up with them.