086-The Mystery of the Silver Star by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-07T15:11:59+00:00

Chapter 11

Big Trouble in the Big Apple

"What happened?" Frank asked, remembering his promise to Callie.

"Keith wouldn't tell me," Aunt Gertrude replied. "But he was terribly upset. He was saying that they were out to get him. If I'm any judge of people, I'd say Keith is really about to crack up."

"Okay. What does he want us to do?" Frank asked.

"Go to New York right away. I'll give you the address."

Suddenly the crowd at El Caballo Blanco started cheering in the background. Frank could barely hear his aunt over the phone "Okay, Aunt Gertrude," Frank shouted. "I got the address. Tell Mom to use our van if she needs it because I don't know when we'll be back with her car."

"Be careful!" Aunt Gertrude cried just before Frank hung up.

Frank and Joe didn't say much as they drove into New York City. Instead, the events of the day went on instant replay in their heads. And neither of them wanted to think about Molly Frankel's new prediction.

About two hours later, they reached the West Side Highway in Manhattan and then got off near the Twelfth Avenue piers. From there, it was only a few blocks to Thirtieth Street, where Keith had said to meet him.

But when Frank and Joe drove into the dark, empty parking lot at Thirtieth Street, there was no Keith, no camper, no other cars in the lot, and no signs of life.

"Let's get out of here," Joe said. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Calm down," Frank said. "Keith's probably just late."

A metal trash can fell over somewhere in the darkness and rolled and clanked until it hit the chain-link fence surrounding the parking lot.

"Do you think Keith got lost?" Joe asked. "We could call him, but we don't know what hotel he's staying in."

Click. The sound was unmistakable. It could be only one thing — a switchblade knife springing open. Before Frank could start the engine, the whole car shook as someone leaped onto the hood.

Joe reached for the flashlight under the passenger seat and shone its strong beam into the laughing face of the man on the car hood. He was tall and young, and his brown hair was stringy. He wore a grimy T-shirt, but the knife blade he held was clean and shiny in the flashlight beam.

Sitting in a crouched position on the hood of the car, the young man shouted, "I want this car!"

"We didn't bring the title," Frank shouted back.

Suddenly a group of seven young men approached the car. One of the men stuck his head through the open window on the driver's side.

"Don't move, man, or I'll cut you."

This second voice was so close to Frank's ear that he could feel the man's breath. Frank froze, and the gang's leader jumped off the hood of the car. Quickly, Joe leaned down and flicked a toggle switch under the dashboard. Frank sighed with relief. Now all he and Joe had to do was wait. Finally, the stringy-haired man leaned his hand against the hood of the car again.

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