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Secret of the Red Arrow (Hardy Boys Adventures Series #1)
     

Secret of the Red Arrow (Hardy Boys Adventures Series #1)

4.0 8
by Franklin W. Dixon
 

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The Hardy brothers must dismantle a dangerous crime gang in this first book of a fresh approach to a classic series.

Teenagers Frank and Joe Hardy are supposedly “retired” from their detective work. But there is a new mystery in Bayport that needs their investigative expertise—and fast!

Starting with a bank heist, a series of alarming

Overview

The Hardy brothers must dismantle a dangerous crime gang in this first book of a fresh approach to a classic series.

Teenagers Frank and Joe Hardy are supposedly “retired” from their detective work. But there is a new mystery in Bayport that needs their investigative expertise—and fast!

Starting with a bank heist, a series of alarming pranks have popped up around Bayport. Ultimately harmless, the pranks turn out to be the work of Seth Diller, an amateur filmmaker who plans to make “zillions” from his reality-horror flick, which he’ll use to help out his brother, a wounded Marine.

But after the Hardy brothers put a stop to the Panic Project, there is a new outbreak of Seth-like pranks—only these have definite victims. All signs point to evidence of a crime gang in Bayport, and Frank and Joe undertake the most dangerous investigation they’ve ever encountered. It’s up to them to save their town—and themselves—before the Red Arrow gets to them first.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781442446151
Publisher:
Aladdin
Publication date:
02/05/2013
Series:
Hardy Boys Adventures Series , #1
Pages:
152
Sales rank:
209,488
Product dimensions:
5.10(w) x 7.50(h) x 0.50(d)
Lexile:
660L (what's this?)
Age Range:
8 - 12 Years

Read an Excerpt

THE HOLDUP

1

FRANK

IT’S FUNNY TO THINK ABOUT HAVING ENEMIES. Not funny ha-ha. Funny strange.

I was standing in line at the First Bayport Bank on Water Street. Dad had sent me here on an errand, explaining that the Hardy household believed in banking in person, not online. Mistakes were less common, he said, when the tellers had a face to remember. Even plain old Frank Hardy’s face.

I knew it was just an excuse to get me out of the house. “You’re spending too much time cooped up in front of a computer screen.” Dad, Mom, Aunt Trudy, and my brother, Joe, each told me that at least five times a day.

Well, they weren’t the ones who had to give a speech. That’s right: In one week, yours truly had to get up in front of the entire Bayport High School student body to present my American history paper on civil liberties, which my teacher, Ms. Jones, had called “exceptional.” I’d been really happy about that until I realized it would lead to mandatory public speaking. Thinking about it gave me turbocharged butterflies. I was embarrassed to admit it, but if there was one thing I truly hated, it was public speaking. D-day was right around the corner, and I didn’t even have a final speech yet. I pretended to be “researching,” but the reality was that I was turning into Joe: a world-class procrastinator.

The line in the bank was long, and the wait was boring. It had rained all morning, which meant drippy umbrellas inside. My sneakers were soaked through from the walk.

I took out my cell and texted Joe. We were going to meet up later at the Meet Locker to study. (That’s a coffee shop, in case you were wondering. A popular hangout, it’s open late, and they serve a mean Maximum Mocha.)

NO SIGNAL.

Typical, I thought. Bayport had become notorious for its spotty cell reception.

Staring down at my phone, I accidentally bumped into the person in front of me in line. “Sorry,” I said. The guy glanced back. Then, eyes widening, he turned to face me.

It was Seth Diller, Bayport High’s very own Quentin Tarantino.

“Oh. Hey, Seth,” I said.

He studied me with his strange, unblinking, pale-blue eyes. He looked very highly charged for some reason, like he’d beaten me to the Meet Locker and drunk about twelve espressos. A few inches shorter than me, Seth was wearing a black turtleneck so tight it made me wonder if his brain was being deprived of oxygen. Finally he dipped a nod in my direction. “Frank,” he said quietly.

I didn’t know Seth very well. But he always had a camera in his hand. He was president of the Bayport High AV Club.

His specialty was monster videos. I’d seen a couple on the club website. Lots of fake tissue damage and gross-out effects. Joe appreciated that Seth took the time to make all his effects “in the camera”—meaning not digitally. No CGI for Seth. He was a purist. Joe was a fan, me not so much.

“Working on any new monster masterpieces?” I asked, just to be friendly.

He nodded. “Yes . . . in fact, I’m cooking up something really special.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “That’s right. I’m hoping this new movie will break my record of eleven thousand four hundred fifty-six views on YouTube.”

I guessed that was impressive. “What’s it about?” I asked.

He frowned and gave a shrug. “It’s hard to describe.”

I figured he didn’t want to talk about it, so I just wished him luck and changed the subject. “Hey, how’s your brother doing?” Tom Diller, Seth’s older brother, had been badly wounded while serving with the marines in Afghanistan.

Seth grew quiet, and I was starting to feel sorry I’d brought up such a personal subject. That’s when we heard the screams.

“Everybody stay where you are!” a voice yelled.

Three men with guns, each wearing a mask from a recent slasher movie, had entered the bank. They were moving fast, pistols in their outstretched hands. One disarmed the security guard, dropped the guard’s gun in a trash can, and forced him to lie on the floor. Another locked the front doors. The third came toward us.

I’m not going to lie: I was shocked, and a little scared. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest like it was trying to break out. The truth is, I’d been in far stickier situations than this one, but you don’t exactly expect to run into a bank robbery on a Saturday morning in a sleepy little town like Bayport.

Seth, standing right beside me, stiffened and made a panicky sound in his throat. Seeing his fear brought me back to my senses. “Stay calm,” I whispered to him. “Do whatever they ask. Everything will be fine.”

He was fumbling in his pocket. Glancing over, I saw him take out his smartphone. Hands shaking, he hurriedly tapped the screen until a wobbly image of his own feet came up. He had enabled the video cam.

He was going to record the robbery.

“Seth, listen to me very carefully,” I said in an urgent whisper. “Do not do that. These men are wearing masks for a reason. Just put your phone away.”

But he wasn’t listening. He cupped his hand so the phone was partway concealed and held it low against his leg, angling out at the room, capturing the heist in action.

“Empty your pockets and your purses!” the third gunman yelled. He was my height and thin, wearing a bulky army jacket that didn’t fit. “Nice and calm, people. No sudden moves. We don’t want to hurt anybody.”

The gunman who had locked the doors joined him. “But we will shoot anyone who gets in our way!” he shouted. He rushed to one of the tellers’ windows and proceeded to collect money from behind the counter.

Army Jacket began taking valuables from the people standing in line. Rings, necklaces, and wallets disappeared into a canvas bag he was carrying. He made quick work of it. My mind was racing. What would be the reaction of the gunmen if they saw Seth recording them? It would depend on a million factors. How experienced they were. How nervous. How desperate. Were these men killers?

Army Jacket reached Seth, standing right by my side. I held my breath. The gunman paused only for an instant while Seth dropped his wallet and wristwatch into the canvas bag in one movement. He hadn’t seen Seth’s phone in his other hand. I breathed a two-second sigh of relief. Then Army Jacket was facing me.

Something strange happened then. Army Jacket just stood there, letting the moment drag on too long. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t take my watch or my wallet. He didn’t even seem all that threatening. He was just . . . staring at me.

Did he know me? It was possible. Even though my brother and I are supposed to be officially “retired,” we’d put away a fair share of criminals in our time. Maybe this guy had been sent to prison, courtesy of Frank and Joe Hardy, and had just gotten his release.

See, our dad, Fenton Hardy, was once a world-famous detective. Growing up, Joe and I would help him on his cases. Then we began tackling mysteries on our own. We were proud of our successes. But after one too many close calls, things started to get a little out of hand, for reasons having to do with private investigators’ licenses (we didn’t have any), insurance (none of that, either), and the threat of being sued by every hoodlum we ever put under a citizen’s arrest. Which is not how my brother and I wanted to spend the remainder of our teenage years, provided we’re lucky enough to survive them. Some of us even have hopes of college one day . . . of a scholarship . . . of a normal life.

So with a few phone calls, including references from our principal and assurances to the police chief and state attorney general, we “retired.” Officially, it stays that way—for all the Hardys. Our dad writes books on the history of law enforcement. And Joe and I go to high school.

That cozy arrangement, a.k.a. “the Deal,” lasted about a month before Joe and I started going crazy. Maybe being a detective is something in your blood. I don’t know.

Since then we’ve started taking the occasional case for a good cause or to help a friend, but we try to keep it confidential. And we deny everything. We don’t consider it lying, just being prudent. We haven’t told our dad, which makes me feel a bit guilty, but I get the feeling he suspects.

Not that it mattered right now. All that mattered was that Army Jacket’s arm had slowly fallen to his side. His gun was pointed at the floor. Like he’d forgotten about it. Now was my chance.

I was about to grab the gun and wrestle it out of his hand, but his accomplice hollered, “Hey! What are you doing?”

Shocked back into the moment, Army Jacket raised his gun again. My chance was gone. I’d blown it. I could see the tiny mouth of the black barrel, aimed between my eyes. He was about to fire!

Meet the Author

Franklin W. Dixon is the author of the ever-popular Hardy Boys books.

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Secret of the Red Arrow 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 8 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Ok
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Feels like really bad fanfiction. Stick to the Classics or the Casefiles from the mid 80 to the late 90s. Those were way better
Stardust_Fiddle More than 1 year ago
A modern reimagining of the classic Hardy Boys series, “Secret of the Red Arrow” is book one of The Hardy Boys Adventures. Frank and Joe Hardy are back on the case. Sort of. They have come to an agreement with their father and with local law enforcement and have retired. They won’t investigate anymore because their prior involvement has resulted in being sued too many times and has led to legal problems. Breaking this promise could result in their being sent to the J’Adoube School for Behavior Modification on Rock Island. However, when a classmate faces harassment that quickly becomes sinister, the brother duo can’t just sit back and let it happen. Soon they find themselves enmeshed in a dangerous case involving a mysterious, secret, and highly feared force called the Red Arrow, and they realize that maybe they should have taken everyone’s advice and left it alone. This reincarnation of the Hardy Boys attempts to breathe new life into the many series adaptations over the years, but it leaves something to be desired. The initial premise that the Hardy Boys are no longer allowed to carry out investigations is ludicrous, as is the Alcatraz-like consequence for doing so. It seems that Frank and Joe could and should have been revived with their detective status intact, as that is the basis for their characters. That oddity aside, this new series does bring the brothers into the twenty-first century, making use of the latest technology and teen lingo. Thus the stories appeal to a teenage and young adult audience. The chapters alternate between first-person narration by Frank and Joe, who still share a close sibling relationship but who also seem out of touch with their family. The close relationship with their father, which characterized the original series, is almost nonexistent, and Fenton Hardy is now a legal writer rather than a detective. Similarly, none of their original friends have been retained; in fact, the Hardy Boys don’t seem to have friends in this book, adding to their aloofness. Additionally, the idea that the brothers—especially being detectives—were not aware of the Red Arrow despite its continuous existence in Bayport and despite the fact that seemingly everyone else knew about it is simply not believable. While newcomers may enjoy the adventure and danger that are still present, readers familiar with the prior series will likely be disappointed.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Age:11 Hair:brown Eyes:brown Personality:funny kind caring sometimes harsh a freak adorkable lol!!! Past:i got adopted have alot of aunts an uncle and cousins Other:will need braces because my jaws are uneven weird right but true?!&#9786&#9787
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Results: HARRY WINS How: Stunning spell STUPITEFY
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I've been reading The Hardy Boys for quite a while, and this is the start of a great series. While it can be childish, its still feels like The Hardy Boys. Throw in a bit more danger like the original series, and you've got yourself a winner.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
With this fresh aproch, the hardy noys are fantastic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!