The Dangerous Transmission Read Free Page B

medicine cabinet. Inside was a large knife rack with a cubbyhole full of sharpening stones. He pulled the knife that Joe had found from his pocket, picked off the dollops of melted wax, and slipped the blade down into the empty slot.
    â€œThe weird thing is that I never use any of the knives in this case,” Jax said. “I have my own set. Taxidermists are funny about using their own knives. Dad’s are pretty special to me, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, so I don’t take them out. But I must have. I’d really hate to lose one—which I almost did. Thanks, Joe.”
    â€œThis is a really unusual studio,” Joe said, “but cool.”
    â€œMost of my jobs have been fun. I especially enjoy building an animal from scratch—making a form, and then fitting the hide over it. I did a really good dog for the Sherlock Holmes house. We’ll go see it sometime while you’re here.”
    Jax turned out the lights and led the Hardys out the back door of the shop and into an alley behind the building.
    â€œYou have your key, right?” Jax asked. “Go on up. I want to get the mail.” While Jax continued on to the lane and toward a jumble of old-fashioned mailboxes, Frank and Joe walked to the iron stairway on the side of the building that led up to Jax’s second-floor flat.
    Long snakes of fog swirled through the air, alternately hiding and exposing the moon. A damp breeze riffled through Frank’s open jacket. Chilled, he reached in his pants pocket for the key Jax had given him when the Hardys had arrived the day before.
    Frank stood on the landing in front of the door and pushed the key into the lock. He turned it, but the key wouldn’t budge.
    Frank looked at his brother standing halfway down the stairs. “I think Jax gave us the wrong key,” he told Joe. “This one won’t—”
    Wham! Frank couldn’t finish his sentence before the wind was knocked out of him. The door opened behind him and slammed hard into his back.
    He stumbled to one knee, then felt himself being pulled up from behind. He heard Joe call his name, but the voice sounded so far away. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the shocked look on Joe’s face.

3 Off with His Head
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    Joe had just a few seconds to brace himself before his brother’s body sailed into him. He stood his ground long enough to maintain some control over their inevitable fall. Then Frank’s head butted into him and the two tumbled back down the steps.
    â€œWhat happened?” Jax yelled, sprinting over to the steps.
    â€œMake sure Frank’s okay,” Joe ordered, scrambling to his feet. “Then call the police,” he called back as he raced along the walk to the lane. “Someone was in your house.”
    When Joe got to the lane, he stopped for a minute. There was no one in sight in either direction. He strained to hear through the thick, hovering fog. He thought he heard the clicking of footstepsin the distance toward the right. The Underground! he thought. Of course!
    Joe raced the four blocks to the Underground station. At each intersection he paused for a moment, listening for footsteps or the whirring of bicycle wheels or a vehicle motor. There was nothing.
    He clambered down the five flights to the Underground in record time. There were a few people waiting for the train, but he saw no one familiar. He didn’t recognize any of the people waiting as the person who slammed out of Jax’s flat and pushed Frank down the stairs. Of course, he hadn’t really seen the figure—but no one in the station looked at all suspicious. He decided to hang around there for a few minutes, though, to see if the person showed up.
    A peculiar loud noise interrupted the familiar sound of subway trains coming and going. Joe looked to his left and saw a strange-looking yellow car moving by itself about two miles an hour along the track. It had no