1. Dancing with Death
2. Dive In
3. X Marks the Spot
4. No Time to Lose
5. No Guts, No Glory
6. Food for Thought
7. Space Race
8. Zero Gravity
9. Cowboy Up
10. Spinning Wheels
11. High Stakes
12. Bad Blood
13. A Need for Speed
14. Losing Grip
15. Running on Empty
16. With a Bang
Dancing with Death
I never thought I’d die at the ballet.
Yeah, I admit it. That was the thought running through my head when I found myself strangling to death thirty feet off the stage. A bunch of tutu’d ballerinas were directly below me. I hoped I wouldn’t take any of them out when I went SPLAT.
I struggled to free myself, my legs flailing around like a windmill. But it was no use. My arms were tied together in front of me with electric cords. My head and neck were squeezed between the rock-hard thighs of whatever you call the male version of a ballerina. Ballerino? Ballet dude?
The lack of oxygen was making me giddy. Or maybe it was the music. A dress rehearsal was going on below me. Swan Lake. Until my brother Frank and I came to the ballet school, I’d never heard of it. Now I could hum it in my sleep.
I twisted my shoulders, trying again to jerk myself free. Falling thirty feet and breaking a bunch of bones didn’t seem like much fun. But it was better than strangling to death.
“Quit it,” the balletic baddie growled. “Trust me, you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
Easy for him to say. Little sparks of light were popping in front of my eyes. The cables and lights above the stage swam giddily in front of me. I gave another weak kick. I knew I should be fighting harder, but my body was starting to feel rubbery and numb.
My eyes fluttered shut. It was too much effort to keep them open. The popping sparks got brighter. I only hoped Frank would catch my killer and make him pay. Fleecing a bunch of eager young wannabe ballerinas out of their money was bad enough. But murder . . .
“Ai-yiiiii!” A shout came from somewhere close by.
My eyes flew open—just in time to see Frank making like Tarzan, swinging in on the rope from the stage curtain!
“Oof!” the bad guy grunted as Frank’s boots connected with his midsection. Ballet Boy flew backward, tumbling off the beam where he’d been sitting while he strangled me.
That released my neck. I felt myself start to fall too. Another rope swung past me, and I automatically reached out and grabbed it. Ow. I’d almost forgotten my arms were tied. They broke loose as I grabbed on, but the cords took, like, half the skin off my wrists and hands.
“Joe!” Frank shouted as I hung there, too beat to do more than hold on. “Are you okay?”
I looked over. He’d swung onto another beam.
Then I looked down. My would-be killer was lying on the stage surrounded by shrieking ballerinas. One of his legs was twisted at a pretty funky angle. I guessed it was going to be tough to keep up those muscles in traction.
That thought gave me the strength to start climbing. “I’m cool,” I told Frank hoarsely. “And I think we’re done here. Time to pirouette on home—another case closed.”
• • •
“I still don’t see why they couldn’t find any female agents to deal with that stupid ballet case,” I complained.
Frank reached up to adjust his shades, then turned his head to look at me. We were lying on a couple of lounge chairs at the Bayport Community Pool. It was a hot summer day and the place was packed. But we’d found a private spot off behind the deep end where we could discuss our latest case without anyone overhearing. We’d arrived home the night before too tired to do more than fall into bed.
“I already told you, Joe,” Frank said. “They couldn’t find a female ATAC agent who could do the ballet thing well enough to pass for a serious student. That’s why they decided to go another way and send us.”
ATAC stands for American Teens Against Crime. Our father, Fenton Hardy, started it after retiring from the NYPD. It recruits teenage agents to go undercover in places where an adult investigator would have trouble blending in. Frank and I didn’t have to be recruited—we signed on as soon as Dad told us about it.
The problem is, we have to keep our work with ATAC totally on the down-low. Nobody’s allowed to know what we do. Not even the rest of the family. That causes some complications, especially when Mom and Aunt Trudy start asking questions. But the rewards of the ATAC gig definitely make up for its drawbacks.
Well, most of the time, anyway. “It’s bad enough we had to deal with all that ballet,” I grumbled, not quite ready to let it go. “But then you get the sweet deal of playing personal trainer, and I’m stuck pretending to be a janitor!”
Frank shrugged. “Not my call, bro. I was just playing the role I was assigned.”
“Whatever.” I rubbed my sore neck. “I just hope our next mission isn’t going undercover as a couple of shampoo boys at some beauty school.”
Frank grinned. “No way. They’ll probably send us to a Mr. Nice Guyz concert disguised as presidents of their fan club.”
“Dude, don’t even joke about that!” I was actually sort of impressed that Frank knew who Mr. Nice Guyz was. He doesn’t exactly keep up with all the latest bands. Not that I kept up much with that particular one myself—I’m not really into blow-dried boy bands. “No, I’ve got it,” I went on. “We’ll probably have to investigate some wrongdoing at the next big shoe sale at the mall.”
Frank chuckled. “Hey, it’s just part of the deal,” he reminded me. “We go where they need us, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I just wish they needed us in, say, Hawaii. Or maybe a surfing convention in Jamaica.” I squinted around at the crowded scene surrounding us. “Unfortunately, it’s looking like we’ll have to settle for this place and our boring backyard for the rest of summer vacation.”
Frank didn’t answer. He was staring at something out in the pool.
Following his gaze, I saw that he wasn’t watching something after all. He was watching someone. A girl around our age. She didn’t look like much of a swimmer—she was sort of thrashing around out there—but from what I could see, she looked superhot. Once again, I was sort of impressed. Frank isn’t exactly Mr. Smooth when it comes to the ladies. Actually, he has this annoying habit of not even noticing them much of the time. Okay, that’s not the annoying part. The annoying part is that they usually notice him. I guess a lot of girls out there go for the strong, silent, nerdy type.
Frank stood up. “Where are you going?” I asked, jumping to my feet as well. I wasn’t about to let him beat me to a hottie!
“It looks like she’s having some trouble,” he said.
Before I could answer, the girl started thrashing around more violently than ever. “Help!” she shrieked. “I’m drowning!”
Dive In
“Hang on!” I shouted.
Acting on instinct, I raced to the edge of the pool and dove in. Luckily, the girl was only a few yards from the edge of the pool where Joe and I had been sitting. I reached her in about three strokes.
She stopped thrashing when I got there. I grabbed her under the arms, making sure her head stayed above water.
“Just relax,” I said. “I’ve got you.”
She sort of gurgled and nodded. Her body relaxed, allowing me to drag her along with me.
I turned and struck out for dry land, holding on to the girl with one arm and swimming with the other. By the time we reached the edge of the pool, a small crowd had gathered.
“It’s okay,” Joe was saying to the onlookers. “My brother is trained in water rescue.
”
That was true. Both of us had taken a course when we’d signed on with ATAC. We’d also learned a bunch of other cool stuff, from rappelling to judo.
“Hey, what’s going on?” The lifeguard on duty pushed his way forward.
I grimaced. Said lifeguard was Brian Conrad. He’s this guy we know from school. I’d been a little surprised to show up at the pool and see that he’d landed a job as lifeguard. He normally isn’t the helping-people type. Or the holding-down-a-job type, for that matter.
“Can you grab the edge?” I asked the girl, ignoring Brian.
She nodded and reached for the edge of the pool. “Thanks, I’m okay now,” she said. “I can get out myself.”
“No, hang on, I’ll help you.” Joe was already reaching for her hands.
“Hey, back off, amateurs.” Brian had reached us. “Pulling people out of the pool is my job.”
Joe shot him a look. “If we had to wait for you to actually do your job, she’d be at the bottom of the pool right now.”
“Whatever. Come on, babe.” Brian reached for the girl.
She shook off his hand. “I’m fine,” she said coolly, hoisting herself out of the pool in one graceful motion.
She was amazing-looking. I tried not to stare.
Joe wasn’t even trying. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head.
The girl turned to me, still ignoring Brian. “Thank you so much for coming to my rescue,” she said, putting a hand on my arm.
“That’s my brother.” Joe shouldered past Brian to get closer to the girl. “He’s a real hero. We have a lot in common that way. How about if you sit down and catch your breath, and I’ll tell you all about it?”
“Forget it, Joe Hardhead,” Brian said. “This girl needs medical attention. I’ll take over from here.”
The girl gave him an icy look. “I already said I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”
Before Brian could respond, she took me by the arm and dragged me after her. Joe followed. Most of the other onlookers drifted away, the excitement over.
I glanced back over my shoulder at Brian. He was sort of gritting his teeth. He took a few steps after us. But just then a big, beefy-looking guy in his twenties appeared. He was wearing swim trunks and a whistle.
“Yo, Conrad,” he barked. “Why aren’t you at your post?” He pointed to the empty lifeguard stand.
Joe snorted with laughter as Brian started to whine excuses at his boss. “Nice,” he commented. “Wonder how long Brian’s going to last at this job?”
The girl didn’t seem interested in any of that. She dropped my arm as we reached a lounge chair with a flowered bag on it. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a large hardcover book.
“I wish I had something better to give you to show my thanks. But this will have to do.” With that, she shoved the book into my hands.
I glanced down at it. It looked like some kind of sweeping historical novel. Not really my thing—not that I was about to tell her that.
“Um, thanks,” I said. “But it was really no big . . .”
My voice trailed off. She’d just grabbed the bag off the chair and rushed away. “Be sure to read that book, okay?” she called back over her shoulder. “Do it for me!”
“Hey!” Joe called after her. “Come back. You didn’t even tell us your name.”
“Give it up, Joe,” I said as the girl disappeared around the corner. “If you wanted her number, you missed your chance.”
He frowned. “Maybe her name and number are written inside the book,” he suggested. “She seemed pretty eager for you to read it.”
The guy never gives up hope. Mostly just to appease him, I flipped open the cover. My eyes widened immediately, and I slammed the book shut again.
“What?” Joe asked.
I tucked the book carefully under my arm. “Come on,” I told him. “I think we’d better head home.”
• • •
“As soon as I opened that book and saw the DVD stuck inside, I figured we’d just received our next mission,” I commented as I sat down in front of the video game console on my desk.
Joe and I were in my bedroom at home. We’d rushed back from the pool to find the house empty. Aunt Trudy was weeding the flower garden out back, but we’d sneaked past without letting her know we were home. Sometimes that was easier than answering her questions. Okay, make that most of the time.
Joe shook his head as he flopped onto the end of my bed. “I can’t believe that girl was an ATAC agent,” he said. “Dude, why can’t she be my partner instead of you?”
Ignoring him, I slid the DVD out of the book. The label made it look like a concert video from the latest Mr. Nice Guyz tour. All our ATAC assignments come on CDs or DVDs. One play is all we get to take in the details of our next assignment. After that, they revert to whatever’s on the label—movie, music, video game, whatever. So it’s key to pay attention the first time.
Paying attention isn’t always Joe’s strong suit, so I glanced back at him. “Ready?” I asked, my finger poised over the start button.
“Let’s do it.” He sat up and leaned forward. “And let’s hope that it isn’t another girly assignment.”
The DVD began with the usual welcome from our ATAC boss, who went by the name Q. After that, the briefing started.
“Welcome to a whole new galaxy of action and excitement,” a voice intoned to a background of wailing guitar-heavy music. The picture on the screen jumped to a shot of a hilly, brushy outdoor track of some sort. Several mountain bikes raced past, jumping and skidding along the track. Then the shot jumped to a steep, icy mountain, with several skiers whooshing past at top speed. After that, the scene shifted again, this time to crashing waves with surfers riding in on longboards.
“Awesome!” Joe blurted out, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Still worried it’s going to be a girly assignment?” I joked.
Then I shut up, because the voice was speaking again. “Welcome to Galaxy X,” it said. “A brand-new theme park certain to be a dream destination for anyone who craves some radical excitement in their lives.”
“Whoa, Galaxy X? I’ve heard about that place,” Joe said. “It’s being built on some island off the Carolina coast, right?”
I nodded. “I’ve heard of it too. It’s supposed to be the brainchild of Tyrone McKenzie.”
“The music producer?”
“Uh-huh.” I’d just read a story about McKenzie and his pet project in a news magazine. Hitting pause, I searched my mind for the details. “The place is supposed to be a dream come true for teenage boys. There are regular theme-park-type attractions like roller coasters and stuff, but it goes way beyond that.”
“I know!” Joe put in. “I saw a whole story about it on TV last week. There’s going to be a huge BMX track, rock-climbing walls, a totally cool skateboard park, a wave pool, cliff diving, street luge, snowboarding . . .”
“Sounds like fun.” I pressed the button to start the recording again.
The announcer told us pretty much everything we’d just discussed. Basically, Galaxy X was going to be a testosterone paradise. In addition to the X Game–type stuff and the roller coasters, there would be a huge arcade, tons of food, awesome 3-D movies, and lots more.
“Sounds like fun, right?” the voice on the DVD said. “Well, apparently somebody doesn’t think so. Tyrone McKenzie has been receiving threats from someone who doesn’t want Galaxy X to open at all. When these threats were limited to e-mail and blogs, Mr. McKenzie wasn’t concerned. However, recently there has been some graffiti and other vandalism at the site itself, and with the grand opening approaching, he called the authorities. And that’s where you come in. . . .”
“Yes!” Joe jumped to his feet and pumped both fists in the air. “Galaxy X, here we come!”
“Hang on,” I cautioned him. “We don’t want to miss the rest of the message.”
But there wasn’t much after that. The announcer explained that Joe and I w
ould be heading down to Galaxy X immediately, arriving just before the start of something Tyrone McKenzie was calling “Preview Daze.” That was when the park would be open only to various young, hip celebrities, reviewers, and other media types. Joe and I would be posing as radio contest winners who’d scored tickets to the preview. We were supposed to blend in and investigate—find out if there was any real danger behind the threats.
Finally, Q reappeared onscreen. “Be careful, agents,” he warned in his usual super-serious way. Then he shot the camera a quick “hang loose” sign with one hand and cracked a smile. “And have fun.”
With that, the screen went black. “Wow, this is great,” Joe said, hopping around the room like the ball in a pinball machine. “This has to be the greatest mission ever!”
“Not exactly,” I said. “Based on what we just heard, we don’t even know what we’re supposed to be looking for.”
Joe shrugged. “So what? That’s nothing new—our missions are usually mysterious like that. Look at the big picture, man. Even if this McKenzie dude is being totally paranoid and it’s just a few disgruntled bloggers behind the trouble, we still end up with a few free days of hanging out with celebs and having an awesome time testing out all those cool attractions before the place even opens to the public.” He grinned and lifted one hand. “And here we thought we’d be stuck here and bored for the rest of our summer vacation!”
I couldn’t help grinning back and giving him a high five. “Okay, maybe you’re right,” I admitted. “It definitely beats ballet.”
X Marks the Spot
“Awesome!” I cried as the chopper banked for a turn, swooping down and skimming along the coast. We were so low I could see the waves breaking on the rocky shoreline.
Frank and I were in Tyrone McKenzie’s private helicopter, flying over the barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina. Our pilot was a young ex-military guy with a buzz cut and a fun-loving attitude. As soon as he’d realized we were game for some fun, he’d started showing off his skills. We hadn’t even arrived at Galaxy X yet, and this mission was already a blast!
Galaxy X Page 1
