Free Hostages of Hate by Franklin W. Dixon

to go down in character.
    O'Neill jerked out his .38 Special. "You little creep!" He swung the pistol up and caught Joe on the side of the head. Joe crumpled to the ground. O'Neill brought the gun around for another blow.
    Frank had no choice. He launched off on his right foot, his left foot sweeping up. The high kick caught O'Neill in the forearm, swinging the gun off course.
    Twisting around, O'Neill aimed at Frank. But Joe threw himself at the government man's knees. They both went down in a heap, O'Neill clubbing Joe again.
    Frank jumped forward, and O'Neill revealed his own martial-arts training. He launched a snap kick at Frank's head. This wasn't a blow meant to stun. It could injure, even kill.
    Frank barely saw the foot coming at the side of his head. But O'Neill's timing was off. There was the briefest hesitation in his attack, and that saved Frank's life.
    He scrambled desperately away, and O'Neill's heavy shoe just grazed his ear. Frank jumped back. As O'Neill regained his feet, the gun came up again, and this time Joe was in no shape to help. Frank tried a desperation play, his right leg sweeping around in a circle to catch O'Neill behind the knees.
    The government man toppled to the ground. Frank swung him around, one arm immobilizing O'Neill's gun hand. His fingers reached for the pressure points in the neck. Seconds later, the agent sagged, unconscious.
    Frank felt no triumph. If he had had troubles before, he had major ones now. Breaking and entering—or, rather, exiting—and now attacking a federal officer. If Frank couldn't free the hostages after all this, he'd probably be better off flying away with the hijackers.
    Pia bustled in and frisked the unconscious government man, digging out his wallet. While she withdrew to examine the papers, Joe came over from the car, carrying a couple of pairs of handcuffs. "We're in luck," he whispered. "The car's empty."
    Frank shook his head again. "I'm still not thinking straight. It never even occurred to me to look."
    Joe grinned. "I think I know why he didn't want Peterson or his driver around. Looks like O'Neill wanted all the glory for capturing us."
    "Well, I don't know how this will look on his record." Frank jerked O'Neill's wrists behind his back and cuffed them. He used the other pair of handcuffs on the government man's ankles.
    "Help me get him in the car," he whispered to Joe. "Then we've got to get out of here."
    "Right," said Joe. "Somebody is sure to report your roadside karate demonstration."
    As the Hardys tucked the government man into the backseat of the car, Pia reappeared with O'Neill's ID in one hand and his gun in the other.
    "U.S. Espionage Resources," she said flatly, bringing up the gun. "He deserves to die."
    "No time," Frank said quickly, smacking the barrel with the flat of his hand, forcing it down. "We must get out of here. And a shot will make more people remember us."
    He took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around the pistol, taking it from Pia. "No fingerprints," he said. Then he took the wallet. "And no identification."
    Winding up, he flung both gun and wallet far off into the underbrush. "Now, we climb."
    The ascent up the other side of the ravine was a nightmare. Now gravity was against them, and they were already tired. They were covered with sweat by the time they reached the top. Frank's face showed thin streaks of white where the sweat had cleaned away some of the ground-in dirt.
    Just as they reached the top, the scream of police sirens cut the air. They looked down to see three cruisers pull up beside the black car.
    "You were right," Pia told Frank. "We had to get out of there."
    "And now we must get out of here," Frank said, agreeing. "Where do we go?"
    "We're almost there," Pia said. "Follow me."
    She led the way out of the park, cutting around a large house. "The Turkish Embassy," she said. "Good. Here's Sheridan Circle."
    They stepped onto the street and saw a large open space before them. In the center was a