Free Shadows at Predator Reef by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

others.”
    A short time later, Joe and I were in the back of Mr. V’s Rolls-Royce with half a million in cash each. Jonathan let Joe out in front of the construction site with the first briefcase, while I snuck around the corner with briefcase number two to provide backup if needed.
    Joe stood in the construction site’s empty parking lot and waited. After a few minutes, someone called out from the shadows. Whoever it was, they were trying to disguise theirvoice, but it sounded familiar—and it was definitely a man’s. I couldn’t quite place it, though.
    â€œDo you have the money?” the kidnapper asked.
    â€œHalf of it,” Joe called back. “You get the second half after I get the turtle.”
    â€œLeave the briefcase in the middle of the lot and then walk back to the street and I’ll bring out the turtle,” the voice said.
    â€œI need to see the turtle first.” Joe played it cool.
    â€œNo. The money first, then the turtle.”
    â€œNot gonna happen,” Joe said.
    â€œDo it now or the turtle is toast!” the kidnapper yelled.
    â€œNot until you show me Captain Hook,” Joe said, calling the turtle-napper’s bluff. “If you even have her.”
    The turtle-napper was getting flustered. This apparently wasn’t going the way he had planned. “I’m not messing around! The turtle gets it if you don’t give me the briefcase!”
    â€œYou don’t have her, do you?” Joe said.
    â€œI do so! Now give me the money!”
    â€œNo can do.” Joe kept his cool.
    The perp didn’t. “I have a gun! Now put down the briefcase!”
    If Joe was afraid, he didn’t show it.
    The turtle-napper stepped out of the shadows, and I gasped. It was the same hooded figure I’d chased across the harbor earlier that day. His face was still hidden by the hoodie and sunglasses, and his hand was jammed in thesweatshirt’s pocket holding something that could have been a gun. As a general rule, if someone really has a gun, they’ll show it to you, but there was no way to tell for sure if this guy was bluffing until he did or didn’t pull the trigger. There are some mistakes you never got a chance to learn from.
    â€œDrop the briefcase or I’ll shoot!” he yelled again, stepping closer.
    â€œHey, I know that voice!” Joe said.
    That’s when the perp panicked. He pulled his hand from his pocket. It wasn’t a gun at all. It was a chunk of brick. And he hurled it right at Joe’s head. When Joe lifted his briefcase to deflect the brick, the perp charged. The brick ricocheted off the case and glanced off Joe’s knuckles.
    â€œArgh!” he cried.
    I sprinted from my hiding place, trying to intersect Joe’s assailant. The assailant got there first and slammed into Joe. He was able to tear the briefcase out of Joe’s wounded hand, but he didn’t make it far. The second he got up to make a run for it, I leveled him with a clean tackle. He didn’t even see me coming.
    As he lay on the ground, trying to catch his wind, I yanked back his hood to reveal . . .
    â€œCarter?”

STILL MISSING
13
JOE
    F IGURES,” I SAID.
    Even with my knuckles throbbing from their encounter with the brick, I still couldn’t help laughing. No wonder the kidnapper had botched the ransom attempt. Carter was, to put it nicely, a bozo. Seriously, what had Aly ever seen in this guy?
    I looked at the bloody gash where the chunk of brick had clocked me and checked the sudden impulse to hit him. It’s okay to defend yourself if you have to, but I wasn’t about to sink to Carter’s level and sucker punch an unarmed person. I helped my brother hold him down instead.
    â€œLet me go!” he yelled.
    â€œThe only place you’re going to is jail. Now where’s the turtle?”I demanded. Frank and I held Carter down tightly. He wasn’t getting away.
    â€œI