A buried secret becomes a big problem for Frank and Joe in the twenty-fifth book in the thrilling Hardy Boys Adventures series. Frank and Joe are on a history club trip to New York City, and their first stop is the Prohibition Museum where they’ll hear about how smugglers building getaway vehicles led to the rise of modern stock car racing. During a tour of damp escape tunnels beneath the museum, Frank slips and breaks a wall panel with his elbow, revealing a hidden compartment containing documents from the 1920s! The documents reveal that The Gilded Top Hat—the speakeasy which later became the Prohibition Museum—wasn’t actually owned by the Faccini brothers who were arrested for its bootlegging operations. The museum curator is eager to investigate this lead into the speakeasy’s history, and never ones to turn down a good case, Frank and Joe volunteer to help out. But before long, someone steals the documents and sends the boys warnings to stop digging into the past. Can Frank and Joe uncover the truth before it’s buried for another hundred years—and the boys along with it? Franklin W. Dixon is the author of the ever-popular Hardy Boys books. Chapter 1: The Big Apple 1 THE BIG APPLE JOE NO MATTER WHAT, I AM getting a big, crispy, gooey slice of New York City pizza on this trip. That is the number one priority, as far as I’m concerned,” I told my brother, Frank. He was sitting across from me on the Amtrak train from Bayport to Manhattan, looking over the itinerary for the Bayport High History Club trip. It was a jam-packed four-day weekend of visiting museums and historical sites around New York City, especially those relating to the Jazz Age and Prohibition. Mr. Lakin, one of our favorite teachers, was running the trip. A while back, we’d helped him get out of a tight spot when he was framed for murder during a historical reenactment. Now—even though we weren’t regular members of the History Club—if there were activities going on that also involved a major dose of fun, he made sure to let us know. “We came all the way to New York and the thing you’re most excited about is… pizza?” Frank said, looking up from his sheaf of papers. “It can’t be that much better than the pizza in Bayport, can it?” “Believe me,” I said, mouth watering as I remembered the last time I was in New York and stopped for a classic dollar slice, “it can.” Frank shook his head but laughed. “Well, the Tenement Museum is on the Lower East Side, so that’s kind of near Little Italy, I think. We can probably go for your pizza afterward.” He paused. “Now you’re making me hungry.” “I’ll get snacks!” I said. I’d been itching to get out of my seat and walk around for a while. “Chet, want to come?” Our friend Chet Morton was sitting across the aisle and I knew he was always up for a snack run. “Oooh, yeah. I could go for some chips.” He got up to join. The train clackety-clacked on the tracks as we made our way to the dining car, grabbing hold of the backs of empty seats as we went by to keep our balance. It was kind of like surfing. Train-surfing. We couldn’t decide on a reasonable amount of munchies, so the two of us went back to our seats with our arms full of chips, pretzels, M&M’s, popcorn, fruit snacks, and a few sodas. Frank got up to grab some of my haul from me before the leaning tower of snackage spilled and went rolling all over the train car. We tore into our loot, occasionally passing bags across the aisle and over seat-backs to our other classmates, and watched telephone poles and trees and suburban neighborhoods pass by outside the windows. “Well,” Frank said, between handfuls of popcorn, “I, for one, am excited about going to the Gilded Top Hat. I heard the entrance is super hidden, like you’d never be able to find it if you didn’t know what you were looking for. It’s not even explained on the website; you have to call and book a tour and then they send you instructions.” I had to admit, the idea of going through some kind of secret entrance into a covert bar where flappers and gangsters went to party to avoid Prohibition laws did seem exciting. It was a museum now, but at one point, the Gilded Top Hat had been the real thing. “Mr. Lakin told me we should ask the tour guide about NASCAR,” I said, looking over at Chet, since I knew he was a fan. “NASCAR?” he said, leaning over, just as I thought he would. Frank offered him the bag of chips he was holding and Chet grabbed a handful. “What does a museum about bootlegging have to do with stock car racing?” I had to admit, it was fun to be the know-it-all for the moment. “Alcohol smugglers had to have cars that were really fast and maneuverable. So they souped up their engines to make them as supercharged as they could to lose anybody who might be chasing them.” “Huh,” Chet said appreciatively, before popping some chips into his mouth. “Who knew!” “The next and final station stop is New York Penn Station. Please gather your personal belongings and p