Free The Dangerous Transmission by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

fog was a little thinner here. They could see across the tracks into the windowsof the apartment building on the other side.
    Within minutes, they were in a small restaurant called the Fire Pit. It was not quite ten o’clock.
    Tables and chairs surrounded the crackling fire in the center of the room. Curls of heat wrapped around the diners and helped them forget the gloomy air outdoors.
    â€œFish and chips is it for this place,” Nick told the Hardys. “I insist that you get it. If you don’t like it, I’ll eat it for you.”
    They placed their orders and drank hot coffee while they waited.
    â€œSo, Jax will be all right, don’t you think?” Nick asked.
    â€œThat’s what the doctor said,” Joe said.
    â€œAnd what about you?” Nick asked Frank. “What is a rotator cuff, anyway, and how do you hurt it?”
    â€œIt’s a band of four muscles that are strung together,” Frank said, forming a circle with his hands. “They make a ring around the shoulder joint and give it support. It actually looks like a cuff made out of muscles.”
    â€œHow did you injure it?”
    â€œI fell,” Frank answered, without missing a beat. “I fell hard on my shoulder and kind of twisted it.”
    â€œWas this when you tumbled down the stairs last night?” Nick asked.
    â€œYeah,” Frank lied. “That’s when it happened.” He just didn’t want to share any of the evening’searlier events with anyone until he’d talked to Jax.
    â€œHave you figured out who did it yet?” Nick asked. “Jax told me you two are detectives. Do you know who broke into Jax’s flat and tossed you down the stairs?”
    â€œNo, not yet,” Frank said.
    â€œJax said you caught Pierre Castenet sneaking around later,” Nick said. “That guy’s a real nutcase.”
    â€œHe’s pretty weird all right,” Joe agreed. “And he really wants to get his hands on the Molar Mike.”
    â€œWell, I hope you don’t have it on you, because he’s heading our way,” Nick said.
    Frank and Joe followed Nick’s gaze and saw Pierre storming toward them. He was wearing the same red-and-white workout suit he’d been wearing the last time they saw him.
    He stopped at their table and bumped Joe’s chair. “Okay, what’s going on?” he said in a loud voice. Several people at nearby tables looked over with startled expressions.
    â€œHey, Pierre, what’s happening?” Joe said. He sat on the edge of his chair, ready to spring. Pierre seemed to be in the mood for a fight.
    â€œThat’s my question,” Pierre snarled. “Are you two following me?”
    â€œWe’re just here for some fish and chips,” Frank said. “Why? Should we be following you? Have you done something we don’t know about yet?”
    â€œAbsolutely not!” Pierre bellowed. Out of thecorner of his eye, Frank saw one of the waiters and another man coming over.
    â€œI already told you everything,” Pierre said. “And I told Scotland Yard too. And thanks to you, my hotel room was searched and my passport was lifted. I told them I didn’t see anybody else around Brighton’s flat. But apparently they don’t believe me. So I’m warning you just this once. Stay off my back, or you and Jax Brighton are going to be very sorry!”
    â€œExcuse me, gentlemen,” the man with the waiter said. “I’m the manager of this restaurant. Will you please take this discussion outside? You’re disturbing the rest of my customers.”
    â€œI don’t need to take anything outside,” Pierre said, still staring at Joe. “It’s settled. Leave me alone . . . starting now .” Pierre spun around and stomped out of the Fire Pit.
    The manager scuttled after him, and the nearby diners went back to their meals.
    â€œWell now, this place is fun,