High-Speed Showdown by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

his seat and took in a lungful of the salt-tinged breeze. He half wished that he and Frank were simply taking a ride for the fun of it. Then he reminded himself that part of what he felt was the excitement of the chase. Connie and Angelo were up to something, he was sure of that. But they hadn’t counted on having Frank and Joe Hardy on their trail.
    Frank broke in on his brother’s thoughts, saying, “Those buoys must mark the start and finish line.” He steered between the two bright yellow markers. “Ready, set, go! ” he added, shoving the throttle all the way.
    The nimble runabout took off between twin sheets of spray. As the bow lifted, Joe sat up straighter to get a better view of where they were going. The next yellow buoy was already in sight. So was a sport fishing boat that was approaching them bow-on. Frank backed off the throttle and turned a few degrees to starboard. The fishingboat moved to its starboard, too, following the rules of the road that allowed the two boats to pass each other safely. As soon as he was past the other boat, Frank picked up speed again.
    â€œSee anything?” he called, over the noise of the engine.
    Joe shook his head. He had grabbed a pair of binoculars from the locker, but he was having trouble holding them steady with the boat under way. He scanned the area ahead of them. Good thing it was a weekday, he thought, since it meant there weren’t that many pleasure boats out. Most of them he could eliminate on the basis of their profiles. Then he noticed a low, dark shape about a mile away, almost dead ahead. He studied it as the motion of the waves made it vanish and reappear. It didn’t seem to be moving.
    Joe tapped Frank on the shoulder and pointed. Frank nodded, then adjusted his course to pass close to the other boat. As they drew nearer and the outlines of the boat became easier to make out, Joe became more and more sure that it was their quarry. As Captain Bill had said, there weren’t often that many big inflatables in the area.
    â€œThat’s Connie and Angelo,” Joe announced when they were about a hundred yards away. “But what are they up to?”
    He could see that Connie was kneeling in the bottom of the boat, leaning way out over the side. Angelo was crouched next to her, with somethinglong and narrow in his hands. As Sleuth drew nearer, he straightened up and glanced over his shoulder, then sprang to the controls. The engine must have been idling in neutral. Almost instantly, it roared to life. The boat surged forward.
    Then, just as Frank shoved Sleuth’s throttle all the way open, the motor on the rubber boat stalled. A passing wave slowly turned it broadside, directly in the path of the Hardys’ speedboat.
    Joe saw Angelo leap toward the stern of the boat and tug at the motor’s manual starter, frantically trying to get his boat out of the way of the larger boat barreling toward it. Connie was thrown off balance by the sudden shift in the boat, and with a cry for help, she tumbled into the water.
    â€œLook out, Frank!” Joe shouted, seeing Connie fall in headfirst. “Turn! We’re going to hit them!”

8 Collision Course
----
    All Frank’s attention had been focused on overtaking the other boat. Now, suddenly, he had to avoid running into it—and Connie! Clenching his jaw, Frank used his left hand to turn the wheel hard to starboard, while his right hand fell to the throttle and eased it back to idle speed. Sleuth bucked like a startled stallion and heeled to the right. It missed the smaller boat by only a few feet.
    Just then a wave rolled under the bow, catching it at an angle. For one moment Frank was sure that the boat was about to become airborne. Then the bow slapped itself down on the water. Frank felt the force of the impact in his spine and the base of his skull.
    He twisted his head to look over his shoulder. “Joe?” he called. “Are you okay?”
    Joe was