Daredevils

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Unfortunately, Slim Billy was not about to oblige Frank’s wishes. Without warning, a gunshot rang out and a bullet kicked up the dirt at Frank’s feet.

  He must be wearing night goggles, Frank thought. He can see me, but I can’t see him.

  As if in answer to Frank’s unspoken request, Slim Billy fired up a powerful electric lantern. He shone the beam around the top of the hill.

  In silhouette Frank could see Slim Billy standing over the still body of Terrence McCauley. He could also see that the young stuntman was bound at his wrists and ankles.

  As if that weren’t bad enough, what Frank saw next caused him to shudder. Bound and gagged and standing shoulder to shoulder on a narrow six-inch ledge with their backs flattened against the cliff face were the three missing parents. The drop to the rocks below was only about thirty feet. But tied up as they were, if they fell they would be seriously injured if not killed outright.

  “Kids today just do not listen,” Slim Billy shouted. “You were all supposed to come together. Instead this joker shows up all alone,” he said as he jabbed Terrence with his boot. “And now we’re still one Hardy short.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Frank said.

  “Well, I’ll just change my plans,” Slim Billy said. “First, drop that rope you’re holding,” he said, indicating with his revolver the equipment that Frank was carrying.

  Frank let the rope drop to the ground. However, as he did so, he surreptitiously gave some slack to the end with the grappling hook.

  “So what’s your new plan?” Frank asked Slim Billy. If he had calculated correctly, Joe was still probably out of position. He needed to buy his brother a little time.

  “Nothing too elaborate,” Thompson responded. “Nothing like the traps I set up before. I think I’ll just shoot poor Terrence here and then I’ll trigger some explosions that’ll send your folks to their graves. I’ll leave you and your brother to pick up the pieces while I escape out of the country. That’ll teach you to meddle in my business.”

  “So how did you set up your stunts?” Frank asked. “Some were absolutely brilliant.” He needed to keep Thompson’s attention riveted on him. An ego stroke or two could do the trick.

  “Come on, none of them were all that tough,” Slim Billy said.

  “Humor a stupid kid like me,” Frank added.

  “Remote-control stuff, mostly,” Slim Billy explained. “I love explosives. Bomb in the trailer refrigerator—expensive but not that hard to acquire. M-80 through the window—no problem. Okay, so trying to run you off the road in that truck I stole from Silver Lining may be a bit too straightforward, but, hey, you work with what you got.

  “I cut the strap on Terrence’s parachute pack and hitched small explosives to the steering and brake lines on the semi,” Slim Billy continued. “The trickiest part was shooting him out of the sky with that remote-controlled airplane.”

  “Speaking of airplanes,” Frank said. A loud buzzing sound suddenly filled the sky. Instinctively, Slim Billy took his eyes off Frank to locate the noise.

  His eyes locked on Brian McCauley’s model Zano 2000 just in time. Slim Billy ducked as a large, sleek model airplane came buzzing straight at his head.

  Frank used the distraction to make his move. He dropped to the ground and with one fluid motion grabbed the grappling hook, rolled to his feet, and threw the steel object with pinpoint accuracy. The hook flew to the top of the cliff. One of its sharp tines cut into Slim Billy’s left leg. With a mighty tug, Frank jerked the rope attached to the hook, sending Slim Billy tumbling to the ground with a shout of pain.

  The injured man struggled to get to his feet. At the same time, he tried to raise his gun. However, the model airplane buzzed him once more, keeping him pinned to the ground and knocking the gun from his hand.

  After using the remote control one last time to make the Zano 2000 plummet to Slim Billy’s chest, Joe dropped the unit and ran up to where the villain lay. He kicked the gun out of Thompson’s reach.

  “Don’t you just hate it when one of your own traps comes back to bite you?” Joe said, beaming as he dropped down beside Thompson. He rolled him over and put a knee into the small of the man’s back. Then he used the rope that was attached to the grappling hook to bind Thompson’s arms and legs together.

  “Just like in the rodeo,” Terrence murmured as he regained consciousness.

  “How you feeling?” Joe asked as he untied his friend.

  “Groggy and bruised, but I’ll be okay.”

  “Good,” Frank said as he came panting up the hill, “because this isn’t over by a long shot.”

  16 One Last Bang

  * * *

  “Bad guy caught, case closed,” Terrence said.

  “Nope,” Frank responded.

  “I heard him say something about explosives,” Joe added.

  Terrence shook his head. “Our folks!”

  “Bound and gagged on a narrow ledge with dynamite strapped to them,” Frank said. “And with a perfectionist like Slim Billy, I’m betting there’s a timer attached to the explosives, just in case his remote control failed.”

  The three young men went to the edge of the cliff and peered down into the darkness at the tops of their parents’ heads.

  “Get some light,” Frank ordered.

  Joe retrieved the flashlight that Terrence had dropped when Slim Billy knocked him out. He returned to the cliff edge and shone the beam down.

  “You guys okay?” Frank asked.

  “Are they okay?” Joe chuckled nervously. “They’ve got dynamite strapped to them.”

  “I meant, are they all conscious,” Frank explained. He looked down at the three parents.

  Each adult nodded.

  “Good,” Frank said. “We won’t have to haul dead weight up here.”

  “So you have a plan?” Terrence asked.

  “Yeah,” Frank replied. “What you’ll have to do is lower me down the side of the cliff so I have both hands free.”

  “You!” Terrence protested. “I’m the stuntman here. I’m going over the side.”

  “Nope, me,” Joe said. “Terrence is too heavy.”

  “You’re stronger than I am,” Frank said to his brother. “I’d feel better if both you and Terrence held the line.” Frank began to wind the rope around his waist. “Plus, there’s no time to argue,” he said as he tied the rope into a reliable knot.

  “First thing when I’m down there, I’ll disarm the explosives and then we can haul our folks up.”

  “Slim Billy is a genius when it comes to rigging explosives,” Terrence said.

  “I sure am,” Thompson said from the ground. He seemed amused at the young men’s predicament.

  “Never mind him,” Frank said. “We’re going to do this just fine.”

  “When we lower you down,” Terrence suggested, “ungag my dad first. He should be able to talk you through the process.”

  “Good idea,” Frank said.

  The three friends peered over the cliff edge once more.

  “Let’s do it,” Frank said.

  Joe and Terrence took a firm grip on the rope and braced their legs against giant boulders. “Good luck,” they both said as they slowly lowered Frank over the side.

  “How are you doing?” Frank asked, hanging next to Brian McCauley as he undid the gag around his mouth.

  “Just dandy,” the man replied, moving his jaw back and forth to get the circulation going. “Okay, let’s not waste time. Work fast but carefully.”

  The first person Frank was to release was Mrs. Hardy. Bracing his feet against the ledge his mom was standing on, Frank removed her gag and waited for Brian McCauley’s instructions.

  “You see the green wire that runs from the first stick of dynamite into the timer?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I see it,” Frank answered.

  “Good. What you need to do is lift the wire gently, but don’t break it.”

  Frank reached for the wire.

  “Wait!” Br
ian exclaimed. “Did you bring something to cut it with?”

  Frank squeezed his hand into his back pocket. He removed his Swiss army knife and opened the wire-cutter tool.

  “Good,” Brian McCauley said.

  “Hurry up down there,” Joe shouted from atop the cliff. “Our arms are giving out.”

  “After I release Mom and you haul her up, I’ll have a ledge to stand on.”

  “Get back to work,” Brian directed.

  Once more Frank gently lifted the green wire.

  “Okay, now strip off the covering very carefully. Don’t cut through the wire.”

  Frank did as he was instructed. When he had removed the green plastic covering he saw that the wire inside consisted of several twisted strands of copper.

  “Now what?” Frank asked.

  “Put the knife in your mouth,” McCauley said. “You’ll need two hands for this next step.”

  When both of Frank’s hands were free, McCauley continued.

  “Carefully separate the strands from one another. There should be five. Untwist them very carefully. Now cut the one in the middle,” Brian McCauley instructed.

  Frank took the knife from his mouth. He positioned it around the center wire and neatly snipped it.

  Immediately, there was a noise like a clock winding down.

  “Booby trap!” Brian McCauley screamed.

  Frank’s instincts took over. Realizing that Thompson had rigged the timer to wind down to zero if the device was tampered with, Frank simply tore the dynamite from his mom and threw it toward the rocks below.

  It exploded mere feet away, the force of the blast throwing Frank into his mother and against the cliff wall.

  “I’m losing my grip!” Joe screamed.

  Joe and Terrence struggled to maintain their hold. Terrence swiftly wrapped the slipping rope twice around his own arm.

  “Ahhh!” he screamed as the rope bit into his skin.

  “I’m solid again,” Joe said as he recovered his hold on the rope.

  “What happened?” Frank asked Brian.

  “He’s got this wired up so strangely,” Brian replied.

  “Or he changed the wire casing colors so we’d have trouble disarming them,” Frank suggested. “Why don’t I just rip all of the explosives free?”

  “Too dangerous,” McCauley answered. “Carefully untie my hands, get topside, and then toss the rope down so your mom can be hauled up. I’ll examine the device strapped to me so when you come back down to disarm it I’ll know a little more.”

  Frank did as he was told. After his mom was safe on top of the cliff, he tied the rope back on his own waist and was once again lowered over the cliff.

  “We’ll need to work fast,” Brian McCauley said. “We’re almost out of time.”

  “Do his dynamite first, son,” Mr. Hardy instructed after Frank removed his father’s gag.

  Frank knew better than to argue with his dad.

  “I have this one figured out,” Brian McCauley stated. “After you disarm it, get up top and send the rope back down. I’ll free your dad.”

  Frank worked swiftly, following Brian McCauley’s instructions. The stunt coordinator was soon free from his trap.

  Ten minutes later all three parents stood beside their sons and the trussed-up Slim Billy Thompson. They all sat down and rested while Joe walked out to the highway to flag down help.

  Thirty minutes later, Joe returned.

  “I got a passing motorist to put in a call to the police.”

  “Uh, could somebody at least turn me on my back?” Slim Billy asked sheepishly. “All the blood is pooling in my forehead.”

  “I should just throw you over the edge,” Brian McCauley spat into the face of the former stuntman.

  “Not necessary, Brian,” Mr. Hardy said. He put a restraining hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “With more than a dozen counts of attempted murder hanging over his head, I think Slim Billy will be spending the rest of his days in jail,” Frank added.

  “He’d better be,” Terrence said. “If he thinks he was somehow paying me back for the accident that ended his stunt career, he doesn’t even want to know what I’ll do to him for putting our parents in danger.”

  “Speaking of danger,” Joe said, “do you think they’ll redo Daredevil Fest now that the accidents have been cleared up?”

  “I hope so,” Terrence said. “If for no other reason than I won’t have to hear Antonio Lawrence whine for a whole year about how he got cheated out of a chance to beat me.”

  “Beat you?” Joe laughed. “Hey, if the tournament is back on, you’ll both have to worry about beating me!”

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A MINSTREL PAPERBACK Original

  A Minstrel Book published by

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

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  Copyright © 2000 by Simon & Schuster Inc.

  Front cover illustration by Bill Schmidt

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  ISBN: 0-671-03861-3

  ISBN: 978-1-4814-0198-2 (eBook)

  First Minstrel Books printing January 2000

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