Free The Shattered Helmet by Franklin W. Dixon

look!” Joe exclaimed.
    But before his brother could lean over to see any of the occupants, the car had sped on ahead. It was a maroon Buick sedan with New Mexico license plates. The Hardys memorized the number.
    â€œI’m sure that the driver was Cole,” Joe said.
    â€œLuckily we’re in this truck,” Frank said. “If that car had overtaken us when we were on our bikes— Wow!”
    â€œWhere do you suppose they’re going?” Tim asked.
    â€œThat’s another mystery,” Joe said.
    They approached the next truck stop and the Hardys scanned the area for any sign of the maroon car.
    â€œThere it is!” Frank said suddenly as he recognized the license number. “They must be in the restaurant!”
    â€œAre you going in to see?” Tim asked.
    â€œYes, but not through the front door. Joe and I’ll go around the back way. Evan and you had better stay here. This could be dangerous.”
    â€œYou know,” Frank said as he stepped down from the cab, “that guy in the back seat might have been Saffel.”
    â€œThat’s a wild guess,” Joe said. “But we’ll see.”
    They entered a screen door in the back of the place, which led to the kitchen. As the chef and a waiter stared at them, they mumbled apologies and entered a hallway leading to the dining room. At the end of the hall was a beaded curtain. From behind it came the murmur of voices.
    â€œCareful,” Frank whispered. They reached the curtain and peeked through the beads.
    Cole and the mysterious Greek were seated five feet away! But there was no sign of the blond man.
    Frank and Joe eavesdropped as Cole spoke. “Sofar so good. The boss’ll pat us on the back for bugging the Hardys and the Greek kid.”
    â€œDon’t get cocky,” the Greek answered in fluent but heavily accented English. “We have to find Buckles before they do or he’ll shoot us in the back!”
    The Hardys were thunderstruck!
    How did these men learn of their plans? Were they after the helmet, too, or did they just want to prevent the Hardys from finding it?
    The Greek, who was fingering a string of worry beads, spoke again. “The kid’s gone for the big stuff. If the Hardys show up again—
teliose!
”
    â€œYou mean it’s curtains for them?”
    â€œRight.”
    Suddenly Frank and Joe heard footsteps behind them. Turning, they saw the waiter approaching with a large tray of food held high in his right hand. The boys pressed flat against the wall to give him room to pass, but it was not enough.
    The man stubbed his toe against Joe’s foot. He lost his balance and tumbled toward the boy.
    Joe and the waiter fell headlong into the dining room!

CHAPTER X
Flash Flood
    T HE food flew into the air, some of it spattering onto Cole and the Greek. Both men jumped to their feet, cursing.
    As Joe arose from the slippery floor, they recognized him and bellowed abusive remarks.
    Joe raced back along the hallway. Frank was ahead of him. The Greek and Cole ran after them, slipped on some mashed potatoes and gravy, and fell to the floor. By the time they reached the back entrance, the Hardys were not in sight.
    Frank and Joe had made a dash for the truck, flung open the door and dived to the floor of the cab.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Tim asked in surprise.
    â€œThose guys are after us,” Frank said. “I think they were the ones who ran over our bikes. Tim. see what they’re up to.”
    The truck driver reported every movement of the disheveled pair as they searched the parking lot. “They’re looking for your bikes,” Tim said with a chuckle. “And are they mad!”
    Finally Cole and the Greek gave up the search and returned to the restaurant.
    Tim set off down the highway. After several miles he had to turn off in another direction so he stopped to let the Hardys out. The boys unloaded their bikes and thanked him for the