Free Blood Relations by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

off balance, Joe wrenched his wrist again, and the blackjack dropped to the concrete platform.
    Meanwhile, the rumble of the train had resumed. Joe, though, couldn't turn to see what was happening down the platform. He still had to deal with the masked goon, who had managed to twist his hand free and throw a right cross toward Joe's chin.
    Joe blocked it with his left forearm and drove his own right deep into the goon's stomach. The masked man collapsed like a balloon losing air.
    Joe followed his right with a left hook to the point of the goon's jaw.
    A deep grunt emerged from the ski mask. The guy had a head like a rock, Joe thought angrily, and he lashed out with a right to the jaw, putting every ounce of his muscle behind it.
    The goon shook his head again, as if he couldn't believe this was happening to him. He started to cock his fist as if Joe hadn't even touched him. Then slowly his fist turned limp and fell, and he crumpled slowly to the platform.
    Joe didn't pause to savor his triumph. He turned around fast—and saw that the doors of the train had finished closing, and the subway was moving away with a sudden burst of speed, as if to make up for the time lost by its delay.
    At the same time, Joe saw something else — something that made him run to catch up with the departing train.
    The platform was empty. Dunn and the microfilm were gone.
    Then the train was gone too. Joe couldn't catch up with it.
    He stood watching the rear light until it vanished in the darkness—until another thought hit him.
    Frank.
    He had never run faster than he did in making a dash for the other end of the platform where Frank had been stationed.
    But even as he ran, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
    The feeling was right.
    Frank was gone too.
    They had jumped him, dragged him away.
    Joe didn't have time to check his attacker. He had to find a phone, call the Rawleys, warn them. He spotted one on the platform and raced for it. When he got to it, he saw the Out of Order sign.
    Joe went up the subway stairs three at a time. He had to hunt for a phone out on the street, or maybe in an all-night grocery, if one was around.
    He emerged from the subway and stood a moment, taking in deep lungfuls of cool night air. He looked around him, and down the deserted street he saw a phone booth. He ran to it, pulled open the door, and grabbed the receiver off the hook with one hand while he reached into his pocket for change with his other.
    He had no hands free when he heard the booth door yanked open behind him.
    He had only time enough to turn to see the recovered ski-masked goon standing there with one hand on the door handle and the other bunched into a fist heading straight for his jaw.
    The fist seemed to explode in the center of Joe's brain, and Joe saw—nothing.
    Nothing but shooting stars of pain in endless pitch-blackness!

Chapter 12
    IT WAS ANIMAL instinct that made Joe grab his attacker's knees as he went down.
    It was animal instinct—the will to survive— that made him tighten his grip and hold on as the attacker tried to kick himself free.
    Joe's head began to clear.
    With returning strength flooding through him with every beat of his heart, Joe pulled his attacker down.
    Locked together, they rolled out onto the sidewalk.
    Joe broke free of the attacker's hold on his head. He was on his feet a split second before the attacker managed to get on his.
    The man in black never made it all the way up. Joe's hand chopped down on the back of his neck. Joe had to admit that the martial-arts training that Frank had pushed him into taking paid off now and then—and this was one of those times.
    Panting, his head still slightly fuzzy, Joe tried to focus on what he should do next. But before he could, the question was answered for him. Another man in a black jogging suit and ski mask emerged from the subway, carrying a gun.
    Unfortunately, the goon spotted Joe at the same time as Joe saw him.
    Joe had to run for it. But he knew he