Free Trouble in the Pipeline by Franklin W. Dixon

about things around here."
    "Maybe too much," a rasping voice hissed from behind them. When they pivoted around, they were smack up against a huge, towering guy.
    "Maybe Mr. Hammond should hear just how much you know about things around here." The man had a thick wool cap pulled down over a square, fleshy face. When he took his hands out of his pockets, Joe stared. These were the biggest hands Joe had ever seen, thick and broad, with bulging knuckles and callused skin. If this guy made a fist, it would nearly be the size of Joe's head.
    "Come on, you two," the man growled. "We've got a date with Mr. Hammond."
    One huge paw shoved at Joe's shoulder, forcing him to walk in front.
    Joe's fists clenched. How could he not have known they were being tailed? He was furious.
    "Don't try anything, pal," the thug warned. "I'm holding on to the girl's arm right now. But I could just as easily grab her neck." He laughed. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Chapter 12
    "PLEASE, JOE, DO what he says." Cindy sounded terrified. When Joe glanced back, he saw the tears that lined her eyes.
    "Keep walking," growled the man. "Never mind what's going on back here." Joe forced himself to step out. He could hear Hammond's goon wheezing as he lumbered along behind.
    Joe's mind flicked frantically from one plan to another. He had to nail this guy. But how? He was stuck out front, and the guy had Cindy for a hostage. Anything Joe might do to let Cindy get away would get him creamed. But he couldn't just run for it and leave Cindy. Nor would he be delivered to Spike Hammond, all wrapped up like a Christmas present.
    Somehow, he had to get the edge on this guy. He'd have to watch and hope for an opportunity.
    The streets they were on now, down by the docks, were narrow and gray. Low buildings, mostly warehouses, squatted under the arctic sky. Many of the roads were dirt—grass, moss, and lichen grew wherever cars and feet hadn't trampled them.
    "Turn here," Hammond's goon commanded.
    Joe followed his directions. They were walking away from the waterfront and toward the center of town. It was quiet and deserted, but not too far off they could hear the sound of music and men's laughter. Maybe there was a chance after all.
    To set things up, Joe decided on a little distraction. "So tell me," he said over his shoulder as he continued to walk, "does Hammond give you a piece of his action?"
    "None of your business."
    "Hammond's raking it in with his bribe scam," Joe went on. "I hope you're getting some."
    "I do all right. I'm on retainer," the goon said in a proud voice.
    "Like a lawyer," Joe said. "But I bet he doesn't pay your medical expenses."
    "Why should he?"
    "Because someday someone will knock your stupid head off, and the doctors are going to have to sew it back on."
    Joe had timed the zinger perfectly. They'd just reached an area with fast-food joints, stores, video-game parlors, and a movie theater. Man-mountain couldn't do anything to him here.
    He could hear the thug's teeth grinding together. "Just keep your mouth shut, punk. I'll take care of you later."
    They were passing a video-game parlor as a crowd of men came spilling out onto the sidewalk. They were laughing and cheering as two of them broke into a sparring match. The fighters held their fists high and danced in circles around each other, ducking and weaving, flicking hard knuckles toward grinning faces. It was all in fun — none of the jabs were connecting. But the crowd made a big thing out of each near-miss.
    One of the fighters lost his balance and bumped into Joe. A chance! Joe spun the off-balance boxer back into Cindy and the goon. The guy found himself with his arms around Cindy, and before he could get loose, Joe jumped in.
    "Keep your hands off my friend's girl," he yelled, taking a huge wind-up with his right hand. The punch was more like a slap. Everyone in the street heard the crack of Joe's hand on the boxer's cheek.
    The crowd became quiet — too quiet. They were mad.