The Great Airport Mystery (9 page)

Mr. Allen arrived at the hangar and was aghast at the situation. He immediately placed a long-distance call to the Sun-Plat Tool Company in California, which was supposed to receive the air shipment. An official there told him the cargo plane had not arrived at the nearby airport. He assured Mr. Allen he would notify him the instant any information concerning the flight was received.

Turning from the telephone, Mr. Allen said to the Hardys, “I don't mind telling you I'm pretty worried about this whole thing.”

The boys followed him to Peterson's office, which they thoroughly searched. In the top desk drawer, Frank discovered a notation stating that Mr. Allen had ordered an earlier departure.

“I never gave such an order!” the executive declared. The young sleuths noted that the notation was typed, making it difficult to identify the writer.

They next went with Mr. Allen to interrogate the night watchman, who said Peterson had told him nothing. “I thought it was a funny time for him to be taking off, but it's not up to me to question the actions of our company's chief pilot.”

“No, of course not,” said Mr. Allen.

Using a master key, he searched Lieber's locker but found no clues. Frank suggested they check the bills of lading for the Sun-Plat shipment. They scrutinized the records for more than an hour, but the results gave no hint of any tampering.

“Well,” Frank said, sighing, “there's nothing more we can do here.”

After assuring Mr. Allen they would continue tracking every possible lead locally, the Hardys returned to Randy.

“Sorry our flight has been grounded,” Joe said wryly.

“Too bad. Well, I'll just return the plane,” the pilot replied philosophically. “I'll be around if you fellows need me again—maybe next time we'll have better luck.”

The boys, feeling somewhat let down, drove off. Frank suggested they go to the camera shop and examine the photographs Mr. Freeman was keeping for them.

“It's a long shot,” he said, “but maybe those pictures will tell us something.”

The boys arrived just as Mr. Freeman was opening his shop. He went to the wall safe, opened it, and handed them the negatives and prints. Joe picked up a magnifying glass from the counter. Mr. Freeman handed Frank another.

Meticulously the Hardys studied each of the aerial photographs. Several minutes passed before Joe suddenly cried out, “Look at this!”

Frank took the print and peered at it through his glass. Joe pointed to the rectangular pasture over which they had flown low before the engine of their aircraft had failed. “What do you see in the pasture area?”

Frank moved his magnifying glass slowly for a better focus. “I don't notice anything special,” he announced. “Unless you mean those three parallel lines running through the center of the pasture. They appear to be ruts, or grooves.”

“Exactly!” Joe said. “What are they?”

“The lines could have been made by a three-wheeled farm tractor,” Frank answered.

“Or maybe a small airplane!” Joe suggested.

“I wonder,” said Frank, then added, “Randy Watson told us the pasture was too short for any airplane to operate out of.”

“I know. That's what has me baffled.”

Mr. Freeman, who had been watching the boys with interest, began glancing at some of the photographs. He asked in what locality the pictures had been taken. When the Hardys told him, his face broke into a wide smile.

“I thought I recognized the area,” he remarked. “When I was a boy, spelunking was one of my favorite pastimes. I used to go there a lot.”

“Spelunking?” Frank asked curiously. “You mean you went exploring caves in that area?”

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Freeman answered, obviously pleased at recollecting some of his childhood activities. “There are several fine caves to be found in those hills. However, it's been so many years since I was there, I wouldn't be able to locate any of them now.”

“How large are the caves?” Frank asked, with increasing interest.

“The ones I explored were rather small,” the shop owner explained. “I promised my parents I wouldn't tackle anything too deep. So I can't say just how large the bigger caves are.”

The boys thanked Mr. Freeman for his help, then started for home. Both were excited at learning of caves being in the area where they had seen Bush Barney. Perhaps, they speculated, the thieves were using a cave to hide their loot!

“There might even be one near the pasture we flew over!” Joe exclaimed. “And if I'm right about the deep grooves having been made by the wheels of a small plane, maybe it's possible the pasture is being utilized as a makeshift runway after all!”

“I have an idea!” said Frank. “Why don't we rent a helicopter and get a really close look at that area? But first let's go home and tell the folks about our change of plans.”

Mrs. Hardy was elated to see her sons and to learn that their plane trip had been canceled.

Aunt Gertrude wore a self-satisfied grin. “Good thing,” she said. “Now you boys will have time for a lunch that will make up for the breakfast you raced through this morning.”

The Hardy family sat down to a meal of delicious homemade soup, followed by hamburgers, then gingerbread topped with applesauce and whipped cream. While they were eating, Frank and Joe related their conversation with Mr. Freeman, and told of their theory concerning a cavern hideout.

Mr. Hardy was interested at once. “A cave would be perfect for storing stolen merchandise,” he agreed. “Incidentally, I've learned that tract of land is part of an abandoned farm, but the whereabouts of the owner is not known.”

The boys discussed their plan to explore the area by helicopter. Their father approved, and suggested that they ask Randy Watson to make arrangements for hiring a craft and pilot.

Frank was about to make the call when the telephone rang. He picked it up. An eerie voice at the other end said, “Is this the Hardys' house?”

“Hi, Chet!” Frank said with a chuckle. His friend was imitating Clint Hill's voice.

But as the unearthly voice continued, Frank realized it was not Chet‘s! The words it spoke turned his blood cold.

CHAPTER XIII

CHILLS ran up and down Frank's spine and he stood motionless. He was about to answer that he did not know the whereabouts of Peterson, but then his momentary fright left him and he changed his mind. Frank decided to question the mysterious caller and perhaps get a lead as to his identity.

“I'll make a bargain with you,” the young sleuth proposed.

“What kind of bargain?”
asked the voice, still in an eerie tone.

“I'll give you some information about Peterson,” said Frank, “if you'll tell me who you really are.”

There was a long pause.

“Forget it!”
said the sepulchral voice.
“I'll find that double-crosser myself!”

“Wait!” Frank urged. “Don't hang up!”

But a sharp clicking sound brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Disappointed, Frank shrugged, then dialed and made arrangements to rent a helicopter. In a few minutes he rejoined his family. They discussed the weird call from the “ghost.”

Mrs. Hardy looked distressed, while Aunt Gertrude expressed contempt. “These people who play tricks on the telephone!”

“You say that this person called Lance Peterson a double-crosser?” Mr. Hardy asked.

“That's right, Dad,” Frank answered. “I wonder if our ‘ghost' actually is in cahoots with Peterson and Lieber, and was supposed to go with them aboard the plane, then found they'd suddenly left without him.”

Father and sons continued to discuss this new development and its connection with the case, but failed to arrive at any conclusion. Presently Randy Watson telephoned and said he had made arrangements for Frank and Joe to fly in a helicopter the following morning. A minute later Mr. Allen called to tell the boys that authorities in the United States, Canada, and Mexico had been alerted to look for the missing company plane.

“As yet nothing has been reported,” he said.

The next day Frank and Joe went to Bayport Airport. As they walked onto the parking ramp of Ace Air Service, Randy met the brothers and introduced them to Mack Carney, their pilot, young and well-built. A short distance away stood a small, three-place helicopter. Its cockpit was enclosed in a fishbowl-shaped Plexiglas canopy.

As the boys walked toward the craft, they glanced at the sky and noticed that a cloud cover was developing. Conditions to the south and southwest appeared especially bad. There, the bases of some clouds were darkening to an almost bluish black.

“Looks like a storm,” Joe commented. He feared that their flight might be delayed because of weather.

“There shouldn't be any problem,” Mack reassured him. “I've already checked the forecast. Ceilings and visibility are not expected to drop below visual flight rules at any time.”

He told the Hardys that scattered thunder-storms were predicted for the area, but that these could easily be avoided. By midafternoon the weather system was expected to move out to sea, with rapid clearing behind it.

Minutes later, the helicopter was aloft. The loud clapping of the whirling rotor blades, mixed with the noise of the engine's muffler, bothered them for a few minutes. But gradually, as the craft gained height, turned and headed northwest, they ceased to think about it. The brothers settled back to enjoy the unobstructed view offered by the transparent canopy, and to watch the pilot.

“I'd like to learn to fly one of these,” Joe commented.

The flight took a bit longer than their previous trip to the area by airplane. As they flew into the sector they wanted to investigate, Frank scanned the ground below. He spotted the pasture in the aerial photograph and pointed it out to Mack. The pilot bent the helicopter into a series of turns around the field.

As he leveled the craft out on an easterly heading, Joe glanced to his right. Suddenly the boy detective sat rigid in his seat and stared from the window with an expression of disbelief.

“Look!” he shouted frantically.

The pilot spun the helicopter around to face in the direction Joe was pointing. Moving toward them was a black, funnel-shaped column of air, stemming from the base of an intensely dark cloud.

“It looks like a tornado!” Frank yelled.

“It is!” Mack exclaimed. “They generally move in a northeasterly direction, about thirty to forty miles an hour. We might be able to outrun it.”

He whirled the craft around, but was greatly alarmed to find that their route of escape was blocked by the surrounding hills. The dark cloud base moving swiftly overhead cut off the possibil ity of climbing out over the top of the higher terrain.

“The tornado's getting closer!” Joe shouted

“What'll we do? That tornado is getting closer!” Joe shouted.

“We'll have to head for the ground!” the pilot replied grimly.

As the menacing funnel approached, the surrounding air became turbulent. Mack struggled with the controls as the craft was thrown about viciously. Frank and Joe braced themselves as best they could, while the pilot tried to establish a controlled descent.

Suddenly Frank and Joe looked out to see a strange phenomenon. The funnel-shaped column seemed to divide in half, as if sliced by an invisible knife. The upper half veered off in a northeasterly direction, while the lower half maintained its original path, passing close to the bobbing helicopter.

“I'm losing control!” Mack shouted. “Hang on! We must be close to the ground!”

The violent jolt of landing almost knocked the helicopter's occupants unconscious. They sat dazed for several minutes before regaining their senses.

Then, gradually, the three became aware of a complete calm. The tornado and dark cloud had disappeared, and not even a breeze was stirring. The sky showed signs of clearing.

“Wow!” said Joe. “I hope that never happens to me again!”

“We're lucky to have got out of this in one piece,” Mack said grimly

He got out of the helicopter, followed by the Hardys, and began to examine the craft for damage. The boys, glancing around, realized that they had landed on a corner of the pasture.

“How's the copter?” Frank asked.

“The landing gear is sprung, and there's some structural damage here and there,” Mack observed. “It doesn't appear to be serious, but I'd better give the craft a thorough inspection before we attempt to fly it out of here.”