Extreme Danger

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “We wanted to question Carter Bean,” the officer explained. “When the hospital tried to find him, they discovered he was gone—and one of their ambulances was missing.”

  Chet came over to join us. He looked a little stunned—no pun intended. “How did the police get here so fast?” he asked.

  “You didn’t call them?” asked Joe.

  “No, I never got the chance. I got jumped by some guy with a stun gun. He must have stolen my cell phone.”

  “So who called the police?” I asked.

  “I did,” said a voice behind us.

  It was Maxwell Monroe.

  The reporter strolled up and smiled. “I had reasons to suspect Bean,” he told us. “After Ollie was killed, I dug up all the old articles about him in our records. Then I saw that Carter Bean was the ambulance hero who saved Ollie’s leg, and I got suspicious. But I didn’t have enough to go on for a cover story. So I told the cops they should question the guy. You can read all about it in tomorrow’s paper.”

  My mind was reeling with questions. But I never had a chance to ask them. Carter Bean started yelling as two of the police officers tried to handcuff him.

  “Careful! You’re hurting me!” he cried. “You’re hurting me!”

  “Well, Carter,” I said. “Maybe you should call 911.”

  15 Heroes

  Okay. So we caught the bad guy. Mr. X was safely behind bars. The Big Air Games were a huge success. Our mission was accomplished.

  Still, I was totally confused. Why was Ollie poisoned? Why didn’t Carter save Ollie’s life, like he did for the others?

  “Maybe Eddie Mundy can tell us,” Frank said.

  We got up early the next morning and sneaked out of the hotel room while Chet was still sleeping. We had agreed to meet Eddie at an out-of-the-way diner to discuss the details of the case. He was already waiting for us when we arrived.

  “Eddie! My man!” I said. “Looking good, dude.”

  Without the red bandanna, Eddie was like a totally different person. His hair was neatly combed, and instead of skateboard gear, he wore a button-down shirt and khaki pants.

  Frank and I, of course, still had the blue hair and the Mohawk.

  “Hey, Frank, Joe,” he said as we slid into the booth. “I think I owe you guys an apology. I thought you knew I was an ATAC agent after I dropped that hint.”

  “What hint?” I asked.

  “In FDR Park, I said it was ‘extremely dangerous’ to ask questions,” he explained. “From the looks on your faces, I thought you understood. I was referring to the name of our mission.”

  “Actually,” I said, “that only made me suspicious. You?” I looked at Frank. “Definitely,” he agreed. “But now I get it.”

  Then we asked Eddie about the murder of Ollie Peterson. We wondered why it seemed different from the other attacks. Why would Carter want Ollie dead?

  “Here’s our theory,” Eddie began. “Ollie may have resented Carter for becoming a hero after the accident in 1990. Some of the papers barely mentioned Ollie’s awards and reputation in the skateboarding community. They focused on this young resourceful paramedic, fresh out of school. He was a poor kid from Philly who worked a bunch of night jobs to pay for medical school … an everyday hero who saved a man’s leg and looked good in photographs.”

  Frank and I nodded.

  “Okay, so years later, Ollie has his own skateboard shop,” Eddie continued. “He probably forgot all about the kid who got famous from his tragedy. Then one day Ollie buys the evening edition of the Freedom Press, and there’s that same paramedic—and he’s a big hero again. So what does Ollie do? Well, we traced his phone records and found out that he called information and got Carter’s number. He called Carter and talked for two minutes, then dialed up the Freedom Press.”

  “Maxwell Monroe told us that Ollie left a message at his office,” said Frank. “He wanted to talk to the reporter about Mr. X”

  “Ollie obviously suspected Carter Bean,” said Eddie. “We believe that he called Carter on the phone to question him or accuse him—or maybe just harass him. Either way, Carter felt threatened. Ollie had to be silenced. So Carter stole some medication from the hospital and slipped a fatal dose into Ollie’s coffee.”

  I let it all sink in. “Okay,” I said. “That explains Ollie. How did you know we were meeting Mr. X at midnight in Love Park?”

  “I was following you,” Eddie answered. “I was even there in the dance club last night. Man, your friend Chet is one crazy dancer.”

  “He’s also the mystery biker in black,” I added.

  “That was some mean riding,” said Eddie, laughing. “I freaked when I saw you guys head for the Monster Loop.”

  “You freaked?” said Frank.

  I asked Eddie another question. “What about Jenna and her friends? They all scattered when the cops showed up. But why were they there in the first place?”

  Eddie gave me a sly smile. “You’ll have to ask Jenna yourself”

  “I plan to.”

  We talked a little more about ATAC and some of our missions. When it was finally time to go, Eddie reached under the table and pulled out a box.

  “I have a little souvenir for you guys.”

  He slid it across the table. I laughed when I saw the wrapping paper. It was the front page of the Philadelphia Freedom Press. The headline read, MR. X X-POSED! MANIAC MEDIC BUSTED BY DAREDEVIL DUO. There was a picture of Carter in handcuffs next to one of Frank and me chasing Chet through the Monster Loop.

  “Open it,” said Eddie.

  We tore away the paper and laughed again. It was a first aid kit full of bandages.

  “I found it on the curb last night next to Carter’s ambulance,” Eddie explained.

  We thanked Eddie for the memento and rushed back to the hotel. Then we dashed up to our room to pack our stuffand check out.

  We’d almost forgotten about Chet. He was still sleeping—and snoring and mumbling. I had to laugh. And I had to mess with him a little too. So I took a long gauze bandage from the first aid kit and tied a big bow in his hair.

  “Shouldn’t we wake him?” Frank asked. “We can’t just leave him here like this.”

  “But he looks so peaceful,” I said.

  “And so pretty,” Frank added.

  We sneaked out of the room, trying not to laugh too hard. Then we headed to the elevator with our backpacks and helmets. Jenna had left a message that she’d meet us in the lobby at ten o’clock—and she had a surprise for us. When we got downstairs, we found her sitting on the steps with Jebediah Green.

  “Jeb! Dude!” I said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad. Just a little sore,” Jeb said with a smile. “How’s the Daredevil Duo?”

  Frank rubbed his knee and winced. “Just a little sore. Thanks for sending us those clippings, man. They helped us figure out who Mr. X was.”

  “Ah, yes. The Maniac Medic,” said Jeb, holding up a copy of the Freedom Press. “That’s one twisted dude.”

  While Frank and Jeb laughed over the headlines, I took Jenna aside to say good-bye. We swapped e-mail addresses and home phone numbers and agreed to stay in touch. I promised to visit her in Atlantic City before the end of the summer. Then Frank interrupted, saying we had to hit the road now.

  I looked into Jenna’s eyes, hating to say goodbye. “Tell me something,” I said. “Why did you follow me to Love Park last night with your skateboard buddies?”

  “Because I knew you were looking for trouble,” she answered. “And because I wanted to help out. And because I care about you.”

  I smiled. “Good answer.”

  She cares about me!

  Frank cleared his throat. “Time to go,” he said.

  Jenna kissed me on the cheek and gave Frank a hug. Then we waved good-bye to Jeb and headed down to the parking garage. On the way I noticed that Frank was quieter than usual. I asked him what was up.

  “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe I’m just a lit
tle jealous. I mean, the mission’s over, and you have this new friend who just happens to be a gorgeous girl and an extreme skateboard champ. And what do I have?”

  I tried to cheer him up. “You have a parrot waiting at home for you, Frank.”

  He reached over and messed up my Mohawk.

  The ride home was a nice way to unwind after the extreme dangers of our mission. The sky was clear and blue, and our motorcycles—I swear—seemed to enjoy cutting loose on the wide-open highway. In just a couple of hours we roared into our hometown and turned down the road to our house.

  Aunt Trudy’s Volkswagen was sitting in the driveway looking good as new. Dad must have driven it through a car wash after he had it fixed. I was glad the repairs hadn’t taken long. As a joke, my brother and I parked our motorcycles right behind the VW, blocking it in. Just to drive Aunt Trudy a little crazy.

  “Home sweet home,” said Frank, pulling off his helmet and fluffing his hair.

  “It’s our crib, Frank. Get with the times.” I took off my helmet and followed him to the porch.

  The old house looked exactly the same.

  Frank and I, however, did not.

  Mom screamed when she saw us. “Oh, my gosh! What did you boys do to your hair? Frank! You’re blue!”

  Frank walked across the living room and gave her a kiss. “You dye your hair too, Mom.”

  “I do not.”

  “I’ve seen you touch up the gray.”

  “Not me. I don’t have any gray hair. And if I did, I wouldn’t dye it blue. Green, maybe, but never blue. And you!” she said, pointing at my head. “What made you think it’s the 1980s? You’re not in a punk band. People don’t wear Mohawks anymore.”

  “Sure they do, Mom,” I said, giving her a kiss. “Your son wears one.”

  Dad sat in his chair, laughing. He was always happy when we got home safe and sound after a mission—and always a little concerned. “Welcome back,” he said. “I can’t wait until your Aunt Trudy sees you boys.”

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  My dad rolled his eyes. “Actually, you might want to hop back on your bikes and travel across the country for a while.”

  “Why? What’s up with Aunt Trudy?” asked Frank.

  Mom started to laugh. “Ask your parrot.”

  Just then, we heard a bloodcurdling shriek upstairs—and the flapping of wings.

  “Get off of me!” Aunt Trudy screamed. “Get your stinking claws off me, you darn dirty bird! Off! Off!”

  Playback came swooping down from the staircase and flew around the room. The parrot circled three times, squawked, then landed on top of Frank’s new blue hairdo.

  “Playback! Don’t mess with the hair! I just styled it!” Frank lifted the parrot off his head and set him down on the mantel above the fireplace.

  I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Frank and I turned around to greet Aunt Trudy.

  “I’ve had just about enough,” she was saying. “Those boys better bring back a cage for that winged demon or I’m going to … AAAAAUUUGH!!! Stay back, you, or I’ll chop you in half, I swear! I know judo!”

  Aunt Trudy waved her arms wildly in the air.

  “Aunt Trudy, it’s us,” said Frank, laughing.

  Our aunt stopped waving and squinted at us. “Of course I knew it was you. I was just … just playing along.” She straightened her shirt and hugged us. “Did you remember to get me the Band-Aids?”

  I reached into my backpack and handed her the first aid kit that Eddie had given us.

  “Oh, my, these look so professional. Like the kind you see in hospitals. Thank you very much.”

  “Oh, it was nothing,” I said.

  Frank glanced at me and laughed. We turned to go upstairs and unpack.

  “Wait, I’m not done with you two yet,” said Aunt Trudy. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bucket of warm soapy water.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “This is for cleaning up after that parrot of yours,” she explained, handing us each a sponge. “I told you that bird was going to poop all over the house. Look! Right here on the table! And look! On the carpet! And oh my goodness, look! He’s pooping right now on the mantel!”

  Frank and I started laughing.

  “Well, if you think it’s so funny, then you should have a load of laughs cleaning it up,” said Aunt Trudy. “And you might think about using the sponge on your hair while you’re at it!”

  Frank and I took the bucket and sponges and started scrubbing the mantel. What could we do?

  Dad turned on the television. “Boys! Look! It’s the Big Air Games!” Frank and I turned to see the videotaped footage of our Monster Loop jump, ending with the helmeted Chet’s wipeout.

  Mom shook her head. “Anyone who would do something like that is just crazy,” she said.

  “But Mom, that’s the Daredevil Duo and their sidekick, Hatchet,” I said, winking at Frank.

  “I don’t care who they are. If you want to talk about real courage, I saw something on the news yesterday about this paramedic who saved two of those extreme sports kids at the park. Now that’s what the world needs today. Real heroes.”

  Playback squawked.

  “Heroes! Heroes! Heroes!”

  Frank and I looked at each other.

  “Get back to work, boys!” said Aunt Trudy. “That poop isn’t going to clean itself up.”

  Cleaning up crime? I’m into it. Cleaning up parrot poop? Not so much. But hey, a job’s a job. Glancing at Frank’s hair, I smiled and went back to sponging.

  Exciting fiction from three-time

  Newbery Honor author

  Gary Paulsen

  Aladdin Paperbacks and Simon Pulse

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing

  www.SimonSays.com

  Bobby Pendragon is a seemingly normal fourteen-year-old boy. He has a family, a home, and a possible new girlfriend. But something happens to Bobby that changes his life forever.

  HE IS CHOSEN TO DETERMINE

  THE COURSE OF HUMAN EXISTENCE.

  Pulled away from the comfort of his family and suburban home, Bobby is launched into the middle of an immense, interdimensional conflict involving racial tensions, threatened ecosystems, and more. It’s a journey of danger and discovery for Bobby, and his success or failure will do nothing less than determine the fate of the world….

  PENDRAGʘN

  by D. J. MacHale

  Book One: The Merchant of Death

  Book Two: The Lost City of Faar

  Book Three: The Never War

  Book Four: The Reality Bug

  Book Five: Black Water

  Coming Soon: Book Six: The Rivers of Zadaa

  From Aladdin Paperbacks · Published by Simon & Schuster