Terror at High Tide by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

included Dad’s key in the envelope with the note,” Alicia explained. “Dad must have had all his keys together on a chain when he was kidnapped.”
    â€œThe kidnapper couldn’t go into the safe-deposit box himself because he’d be recognized,” Joe whispered.
    â€œSo the kidnapper wants my dad to give up what he’s been working on so hard,” Alicia said hotly. “I’m sure the kidnapper wants to claim it for himself.”
    â€œShhh,” Callie said. “Keep your voice down.”
    â€œRoberto must be the culprit,” Alicia whispered. “He’s jealous of Dad, and he knows the alarm code at the museum. That’s why I’m here. I decided to sneak in to see if Dad was hidden in the secret passageway, since Roberto had mentioned that he’d built one.”
    â€œBut where’s the passageway?” Joe asked. “Maybe he just meant this closet.”
    â€œMaybe,” Alicia said, sounding disappointed.“I found the button to open the panel from the outside, but I couldn’t find any button or passageway once I was inside.”
    Frank backed up to give himself more room. He thought the closet was getting pretty stuffy. As he stepped against the back wall, he felt something give way under his shoe—like a button being pressed, he thought.
    At that moment Frank felt the wall shake. He caught his breath, his senses on alert. He couldn’t believe it, but the wall actually started to slide open behind him.
    â€œHey, guys,” he whispered, poking his hand through the empty space where the wall had been. “I think we’ve found our passageway.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Alicia said.
    â€œLet’s check it out.” With his fingers brushing the walls, Frank stepped into a musty dark tunnel that seemed about two feet wide. He felt his way for ten paces or so, then the tunnel turned a corner to the left. Still feeling along the walls, Frank suddenly stepped into thin air with one foot.
    â€œWhoa!” he cried as he struggled to keep his balance. “Stop, everybody. The floor’s gone.” Frank bent down and felt the hole with his hand. About six inches down, he touched a step. “C’mon, guys—there are stairs here.”
    Frank began the treacherous descent down thedark stairway, not knowing where it would lead. “Let’s hope these stairs aren’t sabotaged, like at the Corn Mill,” he said.
    â€œStop, Frank,” Callie whispered. “This is scary enough as it is. Don’t remind us of sabotage.”
    The stairs leveled off into another corridor—this one with a slippery dirt floor and dank air smelling of mildew. As Frank moved forward, cobwebs brushed against his face and something—he guessed it was just a spider—scuttled down his neck.
    â€œI kind of hope your dad isn’t in here, Alicia,” Joe said from the back of the line. “This place is more like a prison than a basement.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Callie asked. Everyone paused, listening to a scratching noise at the back of the tunnel.
    â€œI hope it’s not Roberto behind us,” Alicia said.
    â€œIt’s probably a rat,” Frank whispered as he heard a high-pitched squeak. “But let’s not wait around to find out. Here are more stairs—going up this time.” He started up a steep flight of dirt stairs.
    â€œYuck, Frank,” Callie said, making a spitting sound. “You just gave me a mouthful of dirt.”
    â€œSorry,” Frank said. He bumped his head on something flat and hard above him. What in the world? he thought—I hope this isn’t a dead end. Pushing up hard with the palm of his hand, hefelt the obstruction give way. “Hold on a second, guys,” he announced with excitement. “It’s a trapdoor.”
    Frank pushed the door up and open, then poked his head out. A blast of cool night air greeted him.