Free The Dangerous Transmission by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

isn’t it?” Nick said, grinning at the Hardys.
    Frank and Joe looked at each other. They each knew what the other was thinking: He’s warned us—stay on guard. Frank nodded his head and then looked around the room. “It seems Mr. Castenet got a little too close to the fire pit.”
    â€œYou know, this building is ancient,” Nick said. “It’s been a public gathering place of one form or another since Henry VIII.”
    A waitress brought a tray heaped with large cones of newspaper. Each cone was lined with wax paper, and it cradled huge chunks of fried fish. Nestled around the fish were dozens of equally huge chunks of potatoes—crispy brown on the outside, soft and mashed on the inside.
    All three of them agreed it was just what they needed. They sprinkled malt vinegar down into the cone and dove into their hearty meal.
    â€œSpeaking of the ancient royals,” Nick said, “the exhibit is still on for Sunday. The Palace won’t be cleaned up by then, but they moved the exhibit to the Waterloo Block. That’s the same building where they exhibit the crown jewels. I hope Jax gets back on his feet soon. I need his help.”
    â€œWe’re checking in on him again in the morning,” Frank said. “If he’s awake, we’re going over first thing.”
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    By the time they finished eating it was ten thirty, and Nick announced he had to get home. They all went across the street to the above-ground Underground station. Nick went toward the tracks for the eastbound train, and the Hardys went to the tracks for the westbound.
    The fog was very dark and dense. Joe could feel it creeping into his eyes and through his teeth. It had a musty, sooty taste.
    Visibility was so bad that he could only hear thetrains rattling into the station. He couldn’t see them until the engines plunged the trains through the fog curtain a few yards away.
    Joe looked around and realized that he and Frank were the only ones left on their side of the tracks.
    A chill rippled along Joe’s arms, and he wished he’d worn a warmer jacket. “I’d forgotten how the weather is in London. The air is so cold and wet,” he said.
    He looked to his left, where Frank had been standing, but he saw nothing but the greenish-gray cloud-fuzz of fog.
    â€œFrank? Hey, where did you go?” A nervous chuckle seemed to stick in his throat.
    He heard a shuffling noise on his left, and then a couple of footsteps.
    â€œThere you are,” Joe said. “I was beginning to think . . . Mmwhoomph! ”
    He felt two hands wham into his side, forcing the end of his sentence out with a gush of air. For an instant he couldn’t breathe.
    Finally he was able to manage a huge gulp of wet air. All he could think about was grabbing the person who’d given him the side chop. He started to turn, but it was too late. He felt another blow jamming into his side again.
    A wave of pain flooded through Joe’s body. The ground suddenly seemed to fall away under his feetas he sailed off the platform. A black object flew out into the emptiness with him. He fell onto the cold subway tracks, and a black shoe landed a few feet away. He felt the tracks vibrating beneath him. With an ear-splitting whine, the train barreled through the tunnel opening . . . and then through the fog . . . moving directly toward him.

10 Trapped in the Web
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    â€œJoe! Joe, where are you?” Frank called across the tracks.
    Joe shook his head. It was like the fog had seeped inside his brain. It seemed to take forever for him to become aware again. First he felt the subway tracks under him. Then he heard Frank in the distance, calling his name. But Frank’s voice was quickly drowned out by the rumbling of the train coming toward him.
    At once all his senses surged. He knew he didn’t even have time to stand up. With a powerful lunge, he rolled