Line of Fire by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

their hands under their legs.
    "I learned that from watching TV," Denny said. "Everybody makes their captives sit that way. It's supposed to be almost impossible to get back on your feet very quickly."
    Denny grinned as he started working his way down to them, using the fallen beam as a rough ladder. But it wasn't a friendly grin, and his gun remained trained on them all the way down.
    "I suppose my mom told you I'd be here," Denny said when he finally reached the ground.
    He stood over them, but not too close. Not close enough for Frank or Joe to lash out and bring him down.
    "This was my secret place, you know," Denny went on. "My mom is the only one who knows about it. She hated the idea of my coming here. Partly it was fear that the building would fall on me, I think." He smiled. "And, of course, she was afraid of what it would do to my mind."
    He shook his head. "You know what I used to do here? I'd bring my old plinking gun and shoot at cans. Just like my dad and I used to do. I guess it made me feel he wasn't completely gone — Don't," Denny suddenly said. He aimed his gun at Joe, who had been trying to edge closer to him while he made his speech.
    Joe sat very still.
    "Denny — " Frank said.
    But Denny ran right over his words. "Know what I've been doing here now?" he asked. "Target practice."
    He pointed to a row of cans set up on some pieces of torn and pockmarked concrete. "My firing range away from home. Actually, I was testing out something I'd read in a gun magazine. Sort of a New Wave pistol silencer."
    Denny kicked something between the Hardys — an empty two-liter soda bottle. It was discolored and had a hole in its bottom.
    "That's your basic hardware," Denny explained. "A big plastic bottle. Of course, you have to weaken the load in your bullets, too, so they don't make as big a bang."
    "Which is easy enough for you, with your own reloading machine," Frank said.
    Denny nodded. "You got it, Frank. It's really impressive. Hardly more than a pop when the gun goes off. But the bullets still move fast enough to do their job."
    His face was grim. "It was just going to be an experiment, you know. A little reloading project. I had the forty-five shells fixed up a month ago and was waiting to borrow a friend's gun to see if the silencer really worked. Just for the fun of it."
    He laughed bitterly. "Then, what luck on my birthday! I got a forty-five Army Colt from my mother. A laser sight from Crowell. And I find out the last five years are a lie. That the man who's been helping our family is the one who got my father killed."
    Denny took a deep breath. "I've been a good shot for as long as I can remember. A winner at the sport of shooting." He smiled. "You know, I was never a hunter. I never felt like one. It was always a game. I've never shot at anything alive. Only at bottles or targets. And now I've got a gun, bullets, a silencer, and a reason to use them."
    "You can't shoot Lucius Crowell," Frank said. "Even if he did let this place burn down."
    "It's not like he lit a match, you know," Joe added. "And he did try to save everyone."
    "But he didn't save everyone, did he?" Denny said. "He killed my father, just as surely as if he'd dropped him in one of the acid vats over there." Denny jerked his head toward one of the melted monstrosities in the corner.
    "Oh, I know, he's spent five years trying to make it up to me. Our house. Money. Presents. He used to take me to shooting meets, getting me interested in the sport. He was even encouraging me to take up chemistry, so I could work for his company. That's how I recognized the chemicals he was keeping here, and what they would do if any ever got mixed together."
    His hand was white on the grip of his gun. "It's lucky some of the stuff wound up in the bay. Otherwise, the whole town might have been blown off the map. It taught him a big lesson. Now he's got the safest plant in the country. Now, when it's too late. Well, he can try to make it up for five years or for