Free The Curse of the Ancient Emerald by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

wasn’t standing in the dark, watching us. But nobody was there. We started climbing.
    â€œHey,” whispered Amber. “What floor is this Civil War display on?”
    Frank paused and looked at me. I shrugged. Amber shook her head and headed back down the stairs. I watched over the banister as she used a small flashlight to scan the notice board and the flyers. Then she hurried back to join us.
    â€œTop floor,” she said.
    We crept up the stairs, pausing at every floor to listen. I have to admit, it was more than a little creepy. I know the Phantom was supposed to be good, but I couldn’t hear a single sound that seemed out of place.
    When we arrived at the top floor, I saw that the passage led both left and right. I counted the doors. Ten. The exhibit could be behind any one of them.
    Frank put his ear against the wood of the first door. He listened for a moment, then shook his head and moved to the next one. I was going to ask why he didn’t just open the door to check, but then I realized that in this silence, the noise of the door latch would sound like an explosion.
    We checked each door, but there wasn’t a sound behind any of them. Frank leaned in close to whisper. “We’re going to have to open the doors to check out each room. Chet, you and Amber wait at the bottom of the stairs in case he’s hiding somewhere else.”
    â€œUh, what are you going to do?” asked Chet.
    â€œTry and tackle him before he gets out of the room.”
    â€œGood luck,” whispered Amber.
    They tiptoed down the stairs, and Frank and I moved along the passage.
    â€œThe study would most likely be at the end of the corridor,” I noted softly. “A study usually has a view of some kind.”
    â€œGood point,” said Frank.
    We tiptoed across the carpeted hall to the last door. We were only halfway there when my radio crackled to life.
    â€œIn position,” said Chet. “Ready to grab any Civil War treasures that come our way.”
    Frank winced and lifted the radio to his lips. “Radio silence, please,” he whispered.
    When we arrived at the door, Frank put a hand on the handle and looked at me. I nodded, and he started to open it.
    But he didn’t get the chance.
    â€œ This is the police ,” blared a loud voice. “Identify yourselves!”

ROOFTOP RACE
11
FRANK
    I WHIRLED AROUND IN SHOCK. Joe stared at me with wide eyes.
    â€œI repeat, whoever is in the town hall, identify yourselves.”
    Our eyes dragged down to our radios, where the voice was coming from. And it was the unmistakable voice of Chief Olaf.
    â€œAnd if you’re going to rob the town hall, in the future, use a secure connection. Your chitchat is coming through every police radio in the station.”
    I quickly put my radio to my mouth. “Delta One. Abort. Repeat: Abort.”
    From the other side of the door came a terrific crash and the sound of shattering glass.
    I pushed the door open and saw a dark figure scrambling out the window. He turned on the windowsill and reached up, then pulled himself onto the roof. I ran forward to try and grab his legs, but he yanked them from my grip.
    My eyes were drawn to movement across the street. Police officers were pouring from the station, running toward the town hall, flashlights bobbing and weaving, cutting through the night. They were already more than halfway across the front lawn. There was no way Joe and I were getting out the traditional way.
    Besides, we had a robber to catch.
    I turned around and reached up to the roof. My fingers caught hold of the gutter, which I yanked on to test its strength. It held. I pulled myself up onto the roof and moved aside so Joe could join me. I kept low, hoping the police wouldn’t see my silhouette from below. The sky was still cloudy, so we were in luck.
    I scanned the rooftop and saw the Phantom to our right. He was taking his time. Joe and I set off after him, and I