Passport to Danger Read Online Free PDF Page B

handle, a comb, a knife, or the barrel of a gun. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He dropped the portfolio onto the stack of books displayed at the front of the bookstall and pretended to page through it slowly. And all the while, he listened.
    â€œI know who you are,” the voice behind him said. “And I know what you’re doing. This will be the only warning you get. Stay out of the situation at Le Stade. It is none of your business. Do as I say if you want the ‘American family trio of detectives’ to remain intact.”
    Frank nodded. He hoped to keep the person talking a while longer. Maybe then he could get aclue as to who it was. So he decided to risk a conversation.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “What is it you think we’re doing?”
    There was no answer from behind, but he still felt something jammed in his back.
    â€œWhat do you mean by the situation at Le Stade?” Frank said, trying again to get the person to talk. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Again there was no response. Suddenly Frank felt the object leave his back. The person had left. As quickly as the threat arrived, it was gone, the bruising pain in his back with it. Frank whirled around, scanning the area for clues. He couldn’t tell which one of the dozens of people moving away was the one who had delivered the message.
    Frank met Joe as he came out of the computer café. When he told his brother what had happened, both looked around the bookstall, hoping to find a clue. But they found nothing. Plus, the person was impossible to find in the crowd of strollers.
    â€œOkay, we’re going to have to be very careful from now on,” Frank concluded. “Dad was right. We’ve been totally found out. Anyone keeping up with the news knows who we are.”
    Frank looked around. He felt edgy as he scanned the crowd. Then he looked back at Joe. “Did you find what you were looking for in the computer café?” he asked.
    â€œSure did,” Joe answered, showing Frank a printout from the computer he’d been using. “It’s a biography of Montie Roberts. Something’s been nagging me about that gold walnut, and I found out what it was.”
    Before Frank could read the printout, Joe pulled it back. “Listen to this,” he said. “Montie wasn’t always a university coach. He had once coached at a boarding school outside of London. That school’s arch-rival was another private school with an English walnut in its crest.”
    Then Joe read directly from the printout. “‘Before every game with his rival, Monster Montie’s pep talk always ended with his pulling a real walnut from his pocket and placing it on the floor. Then he lifted his size nineteen brogan off the ground and slammed it down on the walnut, crushing it to bits.’”
    â€œThat pretty much gets the message across to the team, doesn’t it?” Frank said.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Joe agreed. “When he left that school, the team gave him a golden walnut as a keepsake and good luck charm. The bio says he’s carried it ever since.”
    â€œUntil yesterday,” Frank said.
    â€œIt’s got to be his,” Joe said. “There’s probably no one else in Paris carrying around a golden walnut.”
    â€œSo the question is, what was Magnificent Montie doing hanging around the fireworks crew?” Frank wondered.
    â€œYou know, if he is behind all this, he must havesent the guy to threaten you just now,” Joe pointed out.
    â€œHe swears he was set up,” Frank reminded his brother.
    â€œYeah? Well, that’s getting harder to believe, isn’t it?” Joe said.
    The Hardys hurried on to meet Jacques at the Conciergerie, where the Victoire members were assembling outside a huge Gothic palace with pointed towers. “I can see why Isabelle Genet picked