No Way Out by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

will age it so you’ll know how you’ll look thirty years from now. Or I can change your face any way you want—different nose, different eye color.”
    He clicked the computer mouse a couple of times. “Or I can do this,” he said. He turned the straight-on face of Blackstone to a profile shot. Then he pulled the profile image of the man behind the stands around to a facing shot. All four heads belonged to the same man: Vincenzo Blackstone.
    He printed several copies of the images for the Hardys, and they thanked him and left.
    â€œThis is real evidence,” Joe said as he revved up the SUV.
    â€œComputer-adjusted photos don’t hold up in all courts yet,” Frank said. “But they sure help police home in on a suspect. It looks like Blackstone not only is in the vicinity, but seems to be working with the fire-eater.”
    â€œThat’s how he operates,” Joe reminded his brother. “He hires other people to do his dirty work.”
    â€œI want to talk to that talent agency in Halifax and find out more about the fire-eater,” Frank said, dialing his cell phone, “but it’s Sunday. I’ll bet they’re not open.” He listened for a few minutes,then left his name and number on the agency’s voice mail, adding that it was urgent that they call back. “Officer Chester might be able to track down the agency owner today, though,” he said, closing his phone. “And the fire-eater might even be working at EagleSpy again this evening.”
    â€œLet’s split up as soon as we get there,” Joe suggested. “We should each take a packet of the mug shots and the profile shots.”
    â€œYou find Officer Chester first—tell him what we know, show him what we’ve got. Don’t forget to give him the message that Blackstone sent you. I’ll find a Horton and see if the fire-eater is working today. If he is, I’ll go after him right away.”
    Joe drove back to EagleSpy in record time. As they pulled in, one of the gatekeepers stopped them. “Hey, you’re Joe Hardy, right?” he asked.
    â€œI am,” Joe answered.
    â€œI’ve got a message for you,” the young man said, and handed Joe a note.
    Joe thanked him and read the brief message. “It’s from Shorty. He says he found something that might help identify the man who ran into the woods Friday night. Shorty’s working all day, but wants to meet me at his flat at about seven.”
    â€œSounds good,” Frank said. “You’ve got about an hour and a half to find Officer Chester.”
    Joe let Frank out near the stadium and continued on to return the car to the vehicle court.
    Frank hurried inside the stadium and found Kay. “Is the fire-eater working today?” he asked.
    â€œYes, later this afternoon. But I thought I saw him in the bazaar a little while ago. Why?”
    â€œI just want to talk to him. See you later,” Frank said, hurrying off.
    â€œWait a minute,” Kay called after him. “I’m coming with you.”
    Frank and Kay wove in and out of the crowd that shuffled along in the bazaar. Occasionally, Frank would stop at a booth and ask a vendor about the fire-eater. A few recognized the photos and said they’d seen him earlier. One person had seen Blackstone and the fire-eater pass by ten minutes earlier.
    â€œBlackstone!” Kay yelled.
    â€œKeep your voice down,” Frank warned her. “We don’t want them to know we’re following them.”
    â€œBut they have to be just ahead. Come on! We’ll lose them.” She zigzagged through the shoppers before Frank could stop her.
    â€œKay, wait!” Frank yelled, racing after her. “Stop!”
    â€œI see his ponytail,” Kay called back. “The fire-eater’s. He just went around that booth. Hurry, Frank,” she said as she disappeared from Frank’s sight.
    Her scream felt like a