Hostages of Hate Read Online Free PDF

answered with a grin. "I had to convince that guy, didn't I?" Joe nudged the unconscious Gustave with his foot. "What do we do about this guy?"
    Frank pulled off the Belgian's belt and pulled his arms together. "Tie him up, call Dad, and be out of here by the time he comes to collect Gustave." His face was hard as he looked at his brother. "We've got a date at the Hole-in-the-Wall. With Lonnie — and maybe the Dutchman."

Chapter 6
    THE HARDYS HAD some trouble finding a cab driver who was willing to go to the Hole - in - the - Wall. It was in a tough neighborhood and not very conveniently located from the conference center. It would mean a trip through heavy downtown traffic.
    But if their trip was slow, it was also scenic. Their route took them along the south side of the Mall, with all the white marble museums. Then the dome of the Capitol Building rose up on the side, and the cab cut over onto Pennsylvania Avenue.
    Government buildings began to thin out then. Once they were past the Library of Congress, Pennsylvania Avenue started changing. Neighborhood-type stores began appearing. And the farther they traveled, the more run-down the neighborhood became.
    "This is the street the president lives on?" Joe asked.
    "Well, not on this end of it." The driver grinned. He began to make another joke when the radio cut in with a new report on the hostage situation.
    "A videotaped set of demands from the Army for the New World Order has been discovered in a major network news office," the announcer said. "The leader of the group has explained that there will be no negotiations. Four members of his group presently in prison in France must be released, U.S. antiterrorist advisors must be withdrawn from foreign countries, and a million-dollar ransom is to be delivered to the plane."
    "Those guys are sure doing a number on us," commented the driver.
    But Frank was leaning forward in his seat, straining to hear the rest of the report.
    "These demands must be met within the next twelve hours," the announcer went on, "or, according to the tape, the International Airways jet—and everyone aboard—will be blown up."
    Frank and Joe looked at each other. "Twelve hours to find this guy," Joe muttered.
    "Are we getting near that address we gave you?" Frank asked.
    "Next corner," the driver responded.
    They looked down a row of shabby storefronts, some of them boarded up. On the corner was the candy store they wanted. Its side and front windows had been crudely filled in with cement blocks and the whole front given a quick once-over with white paint, now gone dingy.
    A crudely hand-lettered sign stood over the door.
    HOLE - IN - THE - WALL CANDY, SODAS
    Joe gazed from the sign to the store. "Great name. Describes the place perfectly."
    "At least the door is open," Frank said. "Somebody must be in there. Let's go."
    They stepped through the doorway and went from bright Washington sunlight into gloom. Whoever owned the place didn't believe in a lot of light. With the windows blocked up, the two forty-watt bulbs hanging from the ceiling didn't begin to light up the store.
    It smelled of dust and sweat. Frank squinted his eyes, making out a counter by the entrance and a soda fountain along one wall. "Hello?" he called.
    "How do?" As Frank's eyes got accustomed to the dimness, he realized a man was sitting on one of the fountain stools. He did his best not to stare as the man labored toward them on a cane.
    The man topped Frank's six-foot-one height and was incredibly heavy. Billows of fat rolled over the waist of the man's worn jeans and rippled under his torn undershirt. Tufts of white chest hair peeped out, too.
    Joe glanced at his brother, his thoughts evident in his eyes. Samples too much of his own candy.
    But as the man stepped into the light from the front door, both Hardys gasped. The man's right arm and half of his face were a mass of scar tissue.
    The man's lips curled into a smile as he looked into their faces. "Got this courtesy of the