Double Exposure by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

patriot and hero. Now he didn't know what to think. How could he doubt the evidence of his own eyes?
    "Frank," he asked. "Do you believe what we just saw?"
    His brother took a long time answering. "I have to," he said finally. "But it doesn't make sense. Why would Janosik take a payoff? He doesn't seem like the kind of man who needs—or wants—a lot of money." He shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense."
    "Nothing about this case makes sense," Joe agreed.
    Frank knotted his hands together, frustrated. "I can't help the feeling that the clue we need is right in front of us, and we're just missing it. Maybe we ought to call in the police."
    "The police? You mean Considine?" Joe asked, opening the door to their hotel room. "I don't think he wants to hear anything more from us."
    He walked in the room and stopped suddenly.
    "Oh, I wouldn't say that," a familiar voice said. "There's a whole lot more I want to hear from you. Only I'd rather not talk here."
    The lights came on. Lieutenant Considine was sitting on one of the beds. Two uniformed police officers stood by the window.
    Considine motioned the two officers forward. "Let's take a little trip to headquarters, shall we?"

Chapter 13
    "I DON'T KNOW WHAT kind of police force you have in Bayport," Considine said, pacing back and forth in front of the small table where the Hardys sat—where they'd been sitting for the past four hours. "But here we don't look kindly on kids who fake graduate student IDs and break into hotels. I could throw the book at both of you!"
    Joe glared at the lieutenant but held his tongue.
    "Lieutenant, did you check those names we gave you — Gregor Krc, Finn Liehm?" Frank asked, taking another sip of the coffee in front of him. He'd almost nodded off twice during Considine's interrogation.
    "I'm not interested in fantastic conspiracy stories, or how the Czech secret police is invading Boston Common." Considine tossed their phony ID cards on the table. "Let's start with where you got these!"
    "Look," Frank began. "I told you—what's important here is that this Gregor Krc is on the loose and he intends to kill Janosik. Lieutenant, that's what you ought to be focusing on — "
    "Don't you tell me what my job is!" Considine roared, slamming his hand down on the table right in front of Frank. Coffee sloshed from the cup onto the table.
    His partner laid a restraining hand on Considine's arm.
    "I'm going to walk out of this room for five minutes," the lieutenant continued softly, stabbing a finger in Frank's face. "When I come back, you boys had better be ready to give me some answers." He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
    "The lieutenant gets a little intense sometimes." His partner, a detective named Mitchell, pulled up a chair and sat in front of them. "But he's an all-right guy." He smiled at Frank and Joe.
    "Maybe before he comes back, you could tell me a little bit more about why you checked into the Charles—in the room right next door to Janosik's."
    The brothers exchanged a knowing glance. They knew this game too well, having pulled it a few times themselves—the good cop - bad cop routine.
    "Like we said," Joe began, "we felt Janosik's life might be in danger. We knew that they— Gregor and Liehm, that is — were going to try to frame him somehow, so—"
    "Please," the detective said, holding up his hand. "No more talk about Janosik being framed — we've all seen the film on the local newscasts tonight."
    Joe glowered at him. "That's not the point, is it? This guy Gregor was crazy enough to shoot at me—and now he's after Janosik! It doesn't matter whether or not he took money from the CIA - his life's in danger!"
    "So you say." Mitchell stood and began pacing.
    "What about the kid whose skateboard I borrowed?" Joe asked. "His name's on it. Why don't you call and ask him about the shooting at the hotel?"
    The detective smiled faintly, as if to let Joe know he didn't believe that part of his story, either. "We'll