Free Brother Against Brother by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

piece of junk!" Frank shouted, stomping on the pickup's gas pedal. He spun the wheel and the truck squealed out of the parking lot. A storm of gravel flew from under the tires. Frank hoped the gravel might block Patrolman Higgins's aim.
    He glanced back for a second, expecting to see a bullet with his name on it. Instead, he saw the counterman shove Higgins's arm up. Frank gave a sigh of relief. Apparently, the counterman didn't want any bullet holes in his precious pickup.
    Frank pushed the steering wheel, as if that would somehow make the pickup gain some speed. "Come on, you old clunker! We can make it."
    In the rear-view mirror, Frank saw Officer Higgins making for the highway patrol car. The counterman stood by the diner, waving his hands, jumping up and down.
    "With my luck," Frank muttered, "I'll be arrested for stealing this hunk of junk and not paying for that steak."
    The pickup groaned its way up a hill as the lights on Patrol Car 28 went on. In the mirror, Frank saw it roar out of the parking lot, spinning clouds of dust.
    If I had to steal something, Frank thought, I should've stolen the patrol car, instead. At leastv it has some power.
    He grinned at the image of Officer Higgins trying to chase him in the wheezing pickup. But his grin disappeared at the first scream of the siren behind him. Of course, he realized, stealing a patrol car would have landed me in jail.
    Then he caught a glimpse of the revolving red lights on top of the cop-car closing the distance between them. Of course, if Higgins catches up with me, I'll still be in a ton of trouble!
    Frank checked the rear view mirror again. The patrol car was gaining on him. Not too difficult, since the pickup speedometer was indicating a mere forty-five miles per hour. Higgins flashed his lights at Frank, insistently pointing to the side of the road.
    The patrol car came so close that Frank could hear its roaring engine. Then Higgins's voice came blaring over the rooftop speaker: "Okay, son, just pull over. Your little prank is finished. Pull over and there won't be any problem. Come on, kid, give yourself up and the judge might be more lenient."
    "Oh, thanks a lot!" Frank said. His eyes desperately scanned the landscape ahead. If he could just make it to the top of the rise, he might be all right.
    "Pull over right now!" Higgins barked. "I'm warning you, son. Right now! I'm counting to five, then I'll shoot your tires out! One, two, three — "
    Frank pressed the accelerator pedal again, and the truck spurted over the rise. The patrol car did the same. By now, it was so close, it nudged the pickup on the rear bumper.
    "I'm not going to pull this off," Frank said to himself, despairing. "Well, I gave it my best shot—"
    Suddenly car 28 sputtered. Hearing the sound, Frank watched the scene in the rear-view mirror. The patrol car jumped ahead, stopped, sputtered, jumped ahead again, and then died. Stone cold dead in the middle of the road!
    Inside the patrol car, Higgins kicked the transmission back into park and turned over the ignition. The engine wouldn't catch. Over and over Higgins tried to start it—with no success. He slammed his hands against the dashboard in frustration, then picked up the mike.
    "I'll get you, kid!" he roared after Frank.
    Up ahead, putting some distance between Higgins and the pickup, Frank grinned with relief. The potato had blocked the patrol car's exhaust pipe. And the exhaust gases, with nowhere else to go, had damped down the engine.
    "All right," Frank whispered, congratulating himself.
    But his grin soon faded. He'd lost a lot of time. And he wasn't going to make any of it up, chugging along in this heap. Joe would be long past the county seat before Frank even got there— unless the hit man caught him first.
    That thought set Frank to work like a madman squeezing every bit of speed from the pickup. The road began to rise and fall like a roller coaster. At the top of an especially high hill, Frank pushed in the clutch and