Free Collision Course by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

anything."
    'You read my mind, brother." Joe smiled, and put the diving mask back down over his eyes and nose. He glanced at his diving watch and said, "See you in thirty." Then he slipped under the waves and was gone.
     
    It was a short, easy swim to the rock fall. Frank was just pulling himself out of the water, thinking how nice it would be to let his clothes dry ' in the sun, when he heard the faint whine of an outboard motor. He turned to see a boat approaching from the direction of the Bayport marina. Tracing a line from its wake, Frank could see that it was headed straight for the floating marker, bobbing up and down in the swells, that the police divers had attached to McCoy's sunken race car.
    Frank lay flat on his stomach and crawled around a large boulder. Whoever it was, Frank Wasn't ready to announce his own presence. He hoped his brother was alert enough to notice the oncoming motorboat—and patient enough to stay out of sight and wait for the intruder to make a move.
    Joe sighted the wreckage lying upside down on the ocean floor, the wheels turning slowly in the deep currents. Like it doesn't know it's not going anywhere, Joe reflected as he closed in on the object, his legs pumping up and down, beating a steady rhythm through the water.
    He enjoyed the silent solitude of the sea. It gave him a chance to let his mind wander. So he was annoyed when he heard the muffled churning of a propeller disturbing the water nearby. He stopped kicking and hovered a few feet above the' bottom. Looking up, he could see the sunlight reflecting on the surface and the hull of a boat cutting a wake through the water.
    The boat stopped directly above the wreck site, and Joe watched as an anchor sank rapidly, trailing air bubbles as it fell. Instinctively, Joe held his breath so that he wouldn't leave a telltale path of air bubbles. He looked around, veered away from his original course, and glided down behind an outcropping of rock.
    A school of fish feeding on the surrounding plants stirred up the water, allowing Joe to breathe again without being detected. Then he'f waited, knowing what would come next.
    Sure enough, after a few minutes, something else splashed through the surface and descended toward the overturned race car. It was a diver. It could even be somebody I know, Joe thought. But with the wet suit and diving mask, I can't see his face or even the color of his hair!
    Joe let the current gently push him to the other side of the outcropping so he could get a better-look at the diver. He was moving slowly along the under side of the vehicle, brushing his hands over all the mechanical parts. Like he's looking for something he dropped, Joe thought. Or something he doesn't want anybody else to find.
    The diver finished his inspection of the exposed shaft and axles. But Joe didn't see him move anything. Then the man—or woman kicked under the wreck and wriggled, head first, to the cockpit. The ocean carried the sound of metal banging on metal back to Joe's ears, and the diver soon reemerged. Now Joe could clearly see that he was holding something in his left hand.
    With his right hand, the mystery diver sheathed a knife he used to pry the thing loose. He ppated in the water for a moment and then pushed off from the submerged race car and shot straight up toward the waiting motorboat.
    Joe burst from his hiding place, swimming furiously after the diver. If he doesn't see me, Joe prayed, I can catch him by surprise and grab the Evidence.
    Joe could see that he was too far behind. The diver would reach the surface—and the safety of his boat—before Joe got there. But there wasn't any choice. Got to go for it, Joe urged himself. Joe kicked as hard as he could and reached the rope that attached the anchor to the vessel above. He gripped it firmly and started hauling himself up, hand over hand. Added to the powerful mown of his legs, the straining muscles in his arms pelped him gain on the unknown diver. Joe kept his eyes