The Last Laugh Read Free Page A

got a look at the getaway vehicle."
    Frank's expression brightened. "Good going. What was it?"
    "A silver van, one of those new ones with a real sleek aerodynamic design. It had a gray-tinted wraparound windshield, so I couldn't see inside."
    "Did you get the license number?" Frank asked.
    "Nope." Joe shook his head. "The van pulled out too fast."
    Using a handkerchief, Frank held up a smoke bomb. "I picked up one of these as evidence," he told Joe. "I hope it'll tell us more about the kidnappers than your ball bearing."
    "Is that the smoke bomb Flame Fiend set down in the lobby?" Joe asked.
    "Yes." The look on Frank's face grew thoughtful. "Didn't it seem odd that he set that one smoke bomb down so carefully when Dreadnought just flung the others around?"
    Joe nodded. "Yeah, I thought so, too."
    A sudden babble of voices caused Frank to look up at a small crowd of people that had gathered near them to stare at the smoking ashes of Barry Johns's collection of comic-book artwork. Frank had already moved away when he noticed Chet's friend Tom Gatlin. Gatlin seemed nervous and was looking around furtively. Suddenly he slipped through the Crowd and out of sight.
    Frowning, Frank absently rolled the smoke bomb around in his hand. He was about to mention Gatlin's behavior to Joe when an idea struck him.
    "Hey, this bomb feels too light," he said, shaking it beside his ear. He heard a rustling sound.
    Chet walked up then and eyed him nervously. "Take it easy with that thing," he warned. "It might go off."
    "The pin's still in it, Chet," Frank replied as he turned the smoke bomb over to examine the bottom.
    Then, as Chet watched uncertainly, Frank grabbed the top of the grenade and began to unscrew it.
    "Are you crazy!" Chet exclaimed, but Frank paid no attention. As he suspected, the bomb was hollow. Inside was a small envelope made of metallic silver paper. Frank opened his handkerchief and carefully shook the envelope into it. Touching the metallic paper only with a handkerchief, Frank opened it and withdrew a small square of white paper. Then he set the envelope down beside the hollow grenade and carefully unfolded the paper.
    "What's it say, Frank?" Joe asked impatiently.
    Frank read silently, then handed the note to Joe with a grim expression.
    In neat computer printout type, the note read: Mrs. Barry Johns,
    You will give us $500,000 in two days, or your husband's a dead man. We mean business. Ransom-delivery instructions to follow.
    The Human Dreadnought.

Chapter 3
    Joe Hardy stared in disbelief at the note in his hand. "This has got to be the weirdest kidnapping I ever heard of.
    "It's real, though, unfortunately," Frank said.
    Taking the ransom note back from Joe, he set it and the metallic-paper envelope on the floor. He fished around in his shoulder bag and drew out a small black leatherbound notebook and pen. Frank copied the ransom message in the notebook, making notes about the appearance of the envelope and note paper.
    The wail of approaching sirens cut through the air. Glancing through the glass-and-chrome doors at the front of the lobby, Joe saw two black-and-white police cars and a couple of red fire trucks rumbling toward the convention center. Soon some San Diego cops were shooing people out of the way of the firemen, who rushed in carrying big-tank fire extinguishers. They relaxed when they realized that, despite all the smoke, the fire was out.
    A tall cop with a thin mustache quickly took charge. Frank stowed his notebook, picked up the dummy grenade and ransom note, and walked over to the cop.
    "Officer, there's just been a kidnapping!"
    "What?" The cop regarded Frank dubiously through dark aviator shades. "We got a call only about a possible fire here. Who got kidnapped?"
    Joe stepped up beside his brother. "It was Barry Johns, the guest of honor at this convention," he told the cop.
    "I think this is a ransom note for Johns," Frank added. He held out the note and fake smoke bomb to the tall police officer,