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Informationen zum Autor Franklin W. Dixon is the author of the ever-popular Hardy Boys books. Klappentext Frank and Joe Hardy have been posing as extras on the set of the upcoming teen movie, "Deathstalker." The star, an ingenue named Anya, has already had her trailer burn down, and now someone keeps sending her threatening texts. Can they figure out who's behind the mayhem?Movie Mission Danger in the Dark T he city street was dark and deserted. The only sign of life was the pretty dark-haired girl hurrying along the sidewalk, huddled into her jacket. Then she paused and looked back. What was that? Had she just heard footsteps behind her? She listened for a second. Nothing. Sucking in a nervous breath, she started moving again. When she reached the corner, she glanced both ways. No traffic. No pedestrians. Nothing but the sleeping city behind her. The shadowy expanse of the park loomed on the far side of the street. She scurried across and ducked into the park. Once again she stopped short, straining her ears. This time she knew she’d heard footsteps. But when she looked back, there was no one there. As she kept walking, she could feel someone watching her. She rushed down the twisting path, heading deeper into the park. She dashed from one streetlight’s comforting glow to the next. Footsteps crunched on the path behind her. They were close. Way too close. This time she didn’t dare look back. She just walked faster, her breath coming in panicky gasps. ZZT! Suddenly the streetlight overhead blinked out, plunging the path into darkness. The girl let out a squeak of terror and scurried forward into the next puddle of light. ZZT! That light went dark too! The girl froze, her eyes huge in the faint glow of the moon far overhead. A second later rough hands grabbed her, and someone clamped a hand over her mouth— “Cut!” A short man in his fifties with a neatly trimmed beard beamed at the girl as her “attacker” moved away. “Nice job, Anya.” There was a smattering of applause from the onlookers huddled behind the movie cameras. The girl smiled and shrugged off her jacket, which was way too heavy for the warm evening. “Thanks, Jaan. That was kind of fun.” Meanwhile I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Wow,” I said to my brother, Joe. “That was a pretty cool scene.” “Yeah,” Joe agreed. “Now I get why Jaan was so stubborn about filming it all in one long take. It definitely feels scarier and more intense.” I nodded, glancing around the location set. That was what the movie people called it, anyway. It was really just a stretch of New York City ranging from Fifth Avenue to a few yards into Central Park. Some guards had roped it off from the public, and a handful of NYPD officers were standing outside to keep back gawkers. Even so, there seemed to be at least as many people inside the ropes as outside them: the actress Anya Archer, director Jaan St. John, various production assistants, camera operators, sound techs, makeup artists, bodyguards, extras, and even the film’s producer. And, of course, Joe and me. By now you’re probably wondering what the two of us were doing inside those ropes. We’re ATAC agents, not actors. ATAC—American Teens Against Crime—sends its teenage agents undercover to places where an adult agent would stand out like a polar bear at the equator. Places like a high school party. Or a skateboarding rally. Or a movie set where most of the lead actors are under twenty years old. This set fit the bill. The movie they were ...
