Free Disaster for Hire by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

shoulder hard into Theo's chest, knocking him down and sending the gun clattering into a corner. Chet wrenched the flashlight away from the distracted guard and brought it down on the man's arm as he raised his pistol. Then he rammed an elbow into the face of the disarmed gunman, who fell to his knees, all the fight knocked out of him.
    Screaming, Alma rushed the man with the Uzi, clawing at his eyes. Peter jumped on the guy's back, pinning the man's arms to his sides, hanging in with grim determination. The man, bleeding from the scratches that Alma had left on his face, tried to shake Peter loose, but the boy wouldn't let go.
    The remaining guard leveled his pistol, hoping for a clear shot at one of the young demons. But in the dim light the action boiled so rapidly around him that he dared not shoot.
    While he hesitated, Chet threw the long multicell flashlight at him. It struck him a glancing blow that didn't do much damage. But it was followed immediately by Chet himself, who slammed the guard against the wall of the cellar and knocked the wind out of him.
    Theo was tough and agile, quickly getting up and going for the gun lying in the corner. When Frank tried to hook an arm around his leg, he kicked back, landing a heel on Frank's forehead hard enough to leave him briefly stunned.
    Now Theo had eyes only for his gun — he wouldn't hesitate to shoot the wrong person. But as he strode toward the gleaming automatic, a hand reached out to trip him up. Aleko, only partially conscious, was still in the fight. Theo landed hard, the gun a few feet beyond his outstretched hand.
    Snarling in frustration, Theo jerked his foot loose from Aleko's grip and kicked back with his heavy boot on Aleko's arm. Then he started to crawl forward but stopped short and sagged in defeat. Frank Hardy, bleeding slightly from a cut on his forehead, stood with the silvery pistol in his hand. He fired a single shot, which split the air with an ear-shattering roar. A moment later all the guns had been collected by Peter and Chet. Alma knelt beside her brother as he started to come around.
    Nicholas Kaliotis lay motionless, the sleeve and body of his shirt marked by a spreading stain of red. Frank started over to him. "Mr. Kaliotis? Nicholas?"
    When Peter and Chet also turned to Nicholas, Theo saw his opportunity. With a single lithe movement, he was on his feet, and before anyone could react, he had an iron grip around Alma's neck, and a knife at her throat. Furious at his own carelessness, Frank trained his gun on Theo, who sneered, pulling Alma back toward the foot of the stairs.
    "No, no, young American, don't be hasty. I am going to take my leave of you now—but I am certain that we'll be seeing each other again, quite soon."
    Keeping his eyes fixed on the guns held by Frank, Chet and Peter, Theo climbed the steep flight of stairs, pulling Alma up step by step, using her as a shield. When he reached the top landing, he held the knife against Alma, and reached back with his other hand to push open the door. With one last malevolent stare at Frank, Theo vanished through the doorway, leaving Alma standing alone and trembling. "C'mon, Frank, let's get him," urged Chet. But Frank let his gun hand drop to his side. "No, we'd never catch him — he knows this city, and we don't. Besides, we have some people who need looking after. He'll keep, for the moment. Alma, are you okay?"
    Alma had her arms crossed, hugging herself tightly. She took a ragged breath and said, "Yes, I think so. I am not hurt, only ... I was very frightened. But I am well." She started back down the steps.
    Peter was kneeling by Kaliotis. "Frank! He's alive. His eyes are open, and I think he's conscious."
    Frank got down next to Kaliotis, who looked up with a mixture of pain and remorse. The man panted with effort. In spite of his shoulder wound, he reached out with his other hand to grip Frank's arm. "You must believe that I never thought he would shoot. I was wrong, and you were