The Hardy Boys Casefiles : Dead on Target

Chapter 16

FRANK HARDY STARED fuzzily around him. The blast had sent him flying onto the sprawled bodies of his friends. They lay on the floor, coughing from the dust and smoke, looking like a bunch of coal miners. He pulled himself up to examine the door. Had the plan worked?

His heart almost stopped when he saw the door still standing. Then he saw the smoking holes around the doorknob.

The bolt in the lock still held the section with the doorknob in place. But the door itself had been blown loose by the plastique. All they had to do was pull on it.

"Ouch!" Frank croaked, yanking his fingers away. "It's hot!"

Using a piece of torn jacket to protect his hands, Frank pulled the door free. "Now! Up!" he said.

They rushed up the stairs, then onto the Food Floor. The cavernous black pit they'd crossed the night before was flooded with light, packed with people, and full of noise. The rally had started!

"How will we ever get through?" Callie said. "I'll show you," Joe said, ramming his way into the crowd.

Some people gave them angry looks as the Hardys and their friends shoved them aside. Many more gave way nervously at the sight of five dirty, tired-looking kids in rumpled clothes.

At last they reached the police barricades and climbed right over. "Hey, you little punks!" Officer Con Riley froze in surprise. "Joe? Frank?"

"Let us pass, Con," Joe said, darting around him. "This is an urgent message." He turned to the podium and stared. It was empty.

Then a lane opened in the crowd on the opposite side of the floor. People began chanting "WALKER, WALKER!" "Looks like the candidate was delayed," Frank said.

Waving from the middle of a police escort was Philip Walker, accompanied by Fenton Hardy. And hustling them along, with frequent worried glances at his watch, was Al-Rousasa, alias Inspector S. Butler.

"STOP THAT MAN!" Joe yelled, pointing at Butler. He, Frank, and the others rushed around the podium.

Butler stared at the charging kids with an expression of complete shock on his face. He whirled to face Philip Walker-and found Fenton Hardy standing in his way.

Joe almost reached him, but the terrorist dived through his own astonished police escort and disappeared into the crowd. The surprised cops tackled the kids, wrestling them to the floor. The crowd began to scream as they watched what seemed to be a terrorist attack.

But over all the noise came the furious voice of Fenton Hardy. "Frank! Joe! Why are you here?" His eyes widened as he took in their condition. .. And what are you doing?"

Joe tore loose from the policeman who was sitting on him and pointed into the crowd. "Watch out for Butler." "The cop?" Fenton Hardy asked. "He's no cop,'" Frank shouted. "He's an Assassin!"

Fenton Hardy's lean face tightened as he realized what Frank had said. "You're saying he's one of the Assassins? Where did you learn about them? And why are you still in Bayport?"

"We stayed to investigate Iola's murder, Dad. Butler is the one who did it, except he's really called Al-Rousasa, and he's got a hundred pounds of plastic explosive set under that podium. " Fenton Hardy looked more appalled than shocked. "The Bullet!" he exclaimed. Immediately, he called Con Riley over. "I want half of this detail to stick to the candidate like glue. The other half is to come with us."

"Hardy! What's going on here?" Philip Walker's deep, penetrating voice went perfectly with his appearance. His long dark hair, with just a trace of silver in it, was brushed straight back, and his square chin showed a deep cleft. He was the perfect Hollywood casting for a senator-and maybe for president.