The Borderline Case (Hardy Boys Casefiles, No 25)
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toward the Mercedes." Phil examined the area, marking a spot with his toe. "About here, you'd get lots of echo, and it'd be harmless." "Excellent," Prynne said. "You stay here with one of the AK-forty-sevens. When your explosion goes, fire a few short bursts, just to add to the noise and general confusion. After that, act at your own discretion. Understood?" Phil nodded and went to work. "You know," Joe said, "it would be a good idea if I knew a few words in their language." "Serbo-Croatian."
three white tiles and one black one. When the ancients had to choose one person from a group to suffer an unpleasant fate, they put tiles or rocks in a pot, like so. He dropped the tiles into the pot and shook it up. "Then each member of the group would pick a tile. The person with the bad luck to draw the black tile—that one would suffer. Now we relive this old Greek custom. Fun, eh?" Frank reached for the pot, but Theo shook his head. "Oh, no, my friend, you may only observe our little
enemy. The diversion had worked! Seconds later heavy fire erupted from the tower, and the attackers, now totally rattled, turned back to face their original target. Joe nudged Clea. "I think Phil and Prynne are giving us some cover. Let's take advantage of it and get out of here. Stay low and move slowly—at first." They put some distance between the fortress and themselves before they felt it was safe to take off across the jagged terrain at a rapid clip. The noise of shooting soon faded
mortar, stacking shells beside it. "Where's Theo?" whispered Chet. Frank whispered, "Maybe he's over where the shooting is coming from." "We'll have to drive those men away from that field piece, that's the first priority," the Gray Man said. They poured a hail of bullets over the heads of the two men, who immediately abandoned their position, dashing for cover. The Gray Man called out, "Hold your fire!" The chattering of the guns stopped. "Frank, you and Chet stay here and keep anyone from
was Spiros's seventeen-year-old daughter, Clea. She had her father's glossy black hair, which she wore long and loose. It framed a beautiful face, with golden skin, highlighted by huge dark brown eyes. She was wearing a brightly colored skirt and a snow-white blouse. When Joe Hardy's turn came to be introduced he shook hands with the father and son, saying he was pleased to meet them. Then Joe was face-to-face with Clea. He took her hand and said, with his warmest smile, "I'm really pleased to