Free Blood Relations by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

couldn't run in a straight line. He could beat the guy in a flat-out race — Joe was the fastest running back in Bayport High history. But there was no way he could outrun a bullet.
    Instead he ran weaving down the sidewalk until he reached the first alleyway and ducked into it.
    He didn't go far down it, though. Instead he pressed himself flat against the wall near the entrance and waited.
    The goon did exactly what Joe hoped he would. He ran into the alley in hot pursuit.
    His gun was still drawn but he didn't get to use it. Because that was the first thing Joe took care of when he jumped him. Joe gave the guy's wrist a vicious chop, and the gun fell to the ground. Joe continued to hang on to him.
    So far, so good—but then things that Joe hadn't planned on started happening.
    The first thing was, the goon was bigger than Joe had thought. Bigger, and stronger. A lot stronger. And quick.
    He shook Joe off like a dog shaking off water. He didn't bother bending down for his gun—he went after Joe with bare hands.
    Joe put everything he had into a left jab, then a right cross—but his one-two added up to zero. The masked man merely shook his head as if a gnat had given him a slightly annoying bite, then he bore in on Joe.
    His massive arms circled Joe in a powerful bear hug. Joe struggled for a second before he knew it was hopeless. The man's arms felt as if they were made of steel, and they were tightening like a vise. Already Joe couldn't breathe. In another couple of seconds, his ribs were going to crack. Joe didn't want to think what would happen after that.
    There was only one thing Joe thought to try — a move he had never tried before.
    He had seen it in kung fu movies and could only hope he had understood it.
    Here goes nothing, he thought on the verge of blacking out.
    He stretched his neck backward as a rattler would rear back before striking.
    Then he brought his head forward so that his forehead bashed against the goon's.
    In the shattering pain that followed, he only had time for one thought: If the other guy's head is as hard as yours, which one of you goes down?
     
    ***
     
    A security system can only be as good as the men running it. The guards at the building where Laser, Inc., had its offices were not very good. They were the kind of guards who would let any kid in, as long as they thought he was making a delivery.
    The kid had a pizza box cradled in his arms and whined that he'd never get a tip if it was cold when he got upstairs. The guards were sure it was just another pizza for those idiot engineers up in the laser designs division, so they let him through. If they had checked what the box held, they would have realized then that their careers in the security business had just ended.
    When the boy got to the thirty-second floor, he didn't stop at the laser lab. He went directly down the hall to the executive suites, cut the string on the pizza box, and opened it to reveal a very professional set of lock picks and a variety of other gadgets, both electronic and mechanical. It took the teenager only a moment to disable the security alarm and crack the lock on the presidential suite, and seconds after that he was standing in Walter Rawley's pitch-black office.
    A tiny quartz halogen lamp in hand, the young man went through one drawer after another, scanned dozens of files, even spent some time on Rawley's personal computer. As the office's floor-to-ceiling windows went from black to predawn gray, the young man clicked off the tiny lamp that had been his only company and looked about him as if still puzzled. There was a lot here, but there was a great deal more missing. And it was beginning to seem to him that the missing parts were about to turn into another puzzle entirely.
     
    ***
     
    Joe woke in pitch-blackness. Then a dim circle of red appeared. Without opening his eyes, he knew where he was. He was lying on a beach, his eyes shut against the burning sun. He had a throbbing headache. The tide must