A Game Called Chaos by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

break into our van,” Joe said. “Doesn’t ring true to me, Frank.”
    â€œMe neither,” said the elder Hardy. “Let’s take her inside and let the police sort it out.” He took Sam by the arm and urged her toward the apartment door.
    â€œThis really isn’t necessary,” Sam said. She tried to pull away, but Frank’s grip held her gently in place.
    As they walked toward the apartments, Chelsea poked her head out of the lobby door. She had the pizzas in her arms. “Hey, guys,” she said. “What’s going on?” Then her eyes went wide. “Look out!”
    At the same moment Chelsea screamed, Frank and Joe heard the roar of a car engine behind them. They turned in time to see a blue sedan barreling down on them at full speed.

8 Crack Up
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    Frank pushed Sam one way, and he and Joe dove in the other direction. The speeding car whizzed between the two groups, missing them all.
    Before it could change direction or brake, the car slammed into a concrete pylon at the bottom of one of the parking lot’s light poles. The sedan’s engine revved for a couple of seconds more, and then the engine died.
    Frank and Joe got up and looked at the wreck. “Oh, man!” Joe said. “Whoever’s inside there must be really messed up.”
    The brothers ran to the car to try to rescue the driver. Chelsea dashed over to join them. “Frank! Joe! Are you all right?”
    â€œBetter than whoever’s in here,” Joe said, tryingto open the crumpled driver’s-side door. He tried to peer inside, but the front and side windows of the car had shattered into a million spiderwebs of glass.
    All Joe could see was a large white blob in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t make out the driver’s head, or even his arms, just an indistinct shape. He feared that the person inside had been crushed beyond recognition.
    He let out a relieved sigh when he realized what had really happened. “The air bag deployed,” Joe said. “But it’s blocking my view. I can’t see anything else.”
    â€œNeither can I,” said Frank. He had been trying to look into the passenger side of the car. But that side had crumpled against the pylon. The wreckage prevented Frank from seeing inside. “Maybe the driver’s still alive,” he said, joining Joe on the driver’s side of the car.
    Chelsea looked at the car, then at the brothers. “This is Steven Royal’s car,” she said, a note of fear and sadness in her voice.
    â€œWhat a way to end a case,” Joe said. He pulled on the door handle, but the door didn’t budge.
    â€œLet me help,” said Frank.
    He and Joe positioned themselves so they could both get a good grip on the door handle.
    â€œOn three,” Frank said. Joe nodded at him. Frank counted. “One . . . two . . . three!”
    The brothers pulled hard on the door, and slowly it creaked open, metal scraping against metal. The air bag fell away from the seat as the door opened.
    â€œHoly cats!” Joe said. “There’s no one inside!”
    Sure enough, the driver’s seat was empty.
    â€œJust like in A Town Called Chaos,” Chelsea muttered.
    â€œCars can’t drive themselves,” Frank said, turning his scientific eye to the sedan’s steering column. “There has to be some kind of remote-controlled steering device here.”
    â€œI’m sure there is,” Joe said. “But maybe we’d better let the police poke around inside the car. They’ll be here any minute.”
    Now that he was listening, Frank could hear police sirens; they weren’t very far off. Someone in the apartments must have called them.
    â€œWell, they won’t be able to shrug this off,” Frank said. “Whether it was Royal controlling this car or someone else, this stunt could have seriously hurt us.”
    â€œAnd Sam,” Joe said. He