The boys stood without talking for a while. Finally Frank said, “There’s only one possibility and that is to clear the boarded-up windows. Maybe we can escape through one of them and climb down one of the other walls.”
The young detectives wrenched the boards loose from each window, but were disappointed. The ground and the roof remained inaccessible.
“There goes our last chance,” Joe said, discouraged. “We can’t climb up or down, and the only stairs are guarded!”
Suddenly Frank had an idea. “Do you have a pencil?” he asked his brother and Chet.
“Yes, here,” Joe said. “Why?”
Frank pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and scribbled a hurried message. “Help. We are being held prisoners in the warehouse!” Then he leaned through the window and tossed the paper out. It drifted down onto the deserted street.
“Do you have any more paper?” Joe asked, excited.
“No. Do you?”
“No.”
Chet did not have any either, and Frank said, “Let’s ask the others.”
The two scientists were involved in a serious conversation. Dr. Young had scribbled a number of equations on a piece of scrap. He looked up in surprise when the boys approached him. “This is all I had,” he declared. “What do you need it for?”
They explained, and he said, “Forget it. This place is obviously so deserted that no one would find it anyway.”
“It was a good try,” Chet said. “And we have nothing to lose, right?”
“I suppose so,” Young muttered, but he did not seem convinced.
They sat in silence for a while, overwhelmed by the hopelessness of their situation. Joe stared out the small window, his mind desperately trying to find a solution. Suddenly he sat up straight.
“Hey, did you see that?”
“See what?” Frank asked.
“The rope! In front of the window!”
“What?” Everyone looked in the direction of the opening, at the same time noticing a scuffling of feet on the roof.
“Someone’s up there!” Frank exploded, as the rope came into view again, swinging back and forth wildly in the empty space.
“He’s climbing down!” Joe shouted.
Young and Jenson stood up. They were about to rush to the window when a man shinnied down the rope, braced his foot against the wall, pushed back, and swung forward in a wide arc through the opening into the loft.
Everyone stared in amazement as the newcomer landed and bounced in an upright position. He looked at them with a big smile.
Jenson and Young hastened over, and Frank cried out, “Dad!”
“Mr. Hardy?” Chet mumbled, his mouth agape. “Is it really you?”
“Mr. Hardy!” Young stammered. “Are—are you here alone?”
“Yes,” the detective replied, looking intensely at the scientist.
“Dad, how did you get here?” Joe asked. “We thought you were still in Florida at the Space Flight Center!”
“I discovered a clue that led me to Australia. Then I got a line on the gang ringleader. I followed him till I came to this place.”
“Why did you post yourself on the roof?” Joe wanted to know.
“I knew the gang was using the warehouse as a hideout, and I had reason to expect them to bring you here. When they left this morning, I followed them but lost them. So I came back and decided to wait. I climbed up to the roof, tied a rope around the big weathervane, and eventually saw the gang taking you up to the loft.”
“You think we’ll get out of here safely?” Jenson asked anxiously.
Fenton Hardy nodded. “We will, except for the one rocket scientist who’s at the bottom of this mystery.”
Jenson turned pale. “I don’t understand. Are you accusing me?”
“Not you, Dr. Jenson.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Fenton Hardy looked straight at Young. “Professor, you’re facing criminal charges in Australia and the United States!”
CHAPTER XX
Surprise in Port Augusta
As THE boys and Jenson stared in utter astonishment, Fenton Hardy pointed a finger at the professor. “You were behind the whole thing!”
“Prove it!” Young sneered.
“I will, and you’ll spend time in prison! You’re under arrest!”
“That’s what you think, Hardy!” Young snapped viciously. “This is your last case. We’ve got you outnumbered. You’re finished!” Pulling a whistle from his pocket, he blew a shrill blast that echoed through the whole building.
Bruno’s voice responded from the landing at the top of the stairs. “Okay, chief,” he said and turned the massive key in the lock. He pushed the door open and entered, covering the group with a revolver while Young moved over to join him.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Led by Stiller, the rest of the gang came in. The Cutlers brought up the rear with puzzled looks on their faces. “What’s going on?” Cutler asked.
“We caught a real big fish this time,” Young chuckled. He pointed to the Bayport detective and asked Stiller, “Do you know who this is?”
Stiller grinned. “Sure. That’s the gumshoe Fenton Hardy, who sent me to jail ten years ago. I’ve been itching ever since to get even!”
“You were guilty,” Mr. Hardy reminded him. “You got what you deserved.”
Stiller scowled. “I’d have got away with it except for you. Now I’ll take care of you and your punk sons, too.”
“This is your chance for revenge,” Young said. “Get them out of here. I don’t want to see any of them again, ever!”
“It’ll be a pleasure!” Stiller snarled.
He and his gang moved forward. Frank doubled his fists. “We may as well go down swinging!”
Joe assumed a karate stance with upraised palms and challenged the gang, “You won’t take us without a fight!”
Stiller looked at Cutler. “Shall we finish them off here?” he asked roughly.
Cutler shook his head. “I had to rent this dump. Any evidence of a crime committed here might be traced to me. We’ll take them to the woods out in back. There’ll be plenty of cover out there.”
Cutler glanced at Young. “Sure you’ve got all the dope you need from Jenson?”
Young nodded impatiently. “Don’t worry about that. He’s given me the final equations. Come on —let’s finish this job so I can get back to Woomera.”
The gang began to circle the boys and Mr. Hardy held up a hand. “Don’t resist,” he told the boys.
The advice surprised the three so much that the gang members were able to break through and overpower them after a brief struggle.
“Tie ’em up again and do a better job this time,” Mrs. Cutler commanded as Bruno picked up the ropes and handcuffed the prisoners.
“Dad!” Frank cried out. “Why did you tell us not to fight?”
“There’s no need to resist,” Mr. Hardy said. “Didn’t you hear tires screech down below?”
The gang froze in dismay, then Cutler dashed to the open window and looked down. “It’s the cops!” he cried. “Let’s get out of here!”
He and Mrs. Cutler ran from the loft and down the stairs, followed by other members of the gang. But the police already had the building surrounded. A detective sergeant and several uniformed constables arrested and disarmed the crooks as they tried to escape. The prisoners were herded back upstairs, and the captives were untied.
“You’re right on time, sergeant.” Fenton Hardy grinned.
“No trouble, sir. Mr. Moran alerted us a couple of hours ago.”
“Mr. Moran?” Frank asked incredulously.
“That’s correct,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Here he comes.” He pointed to Michael, who had followed the police to the loft.
Chet’s mouth dropped open. “Mike! Wh-what are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story,” Mike said with a smile as the criminals were handcuffed and taken downstairs by the officers.
Profes
sor Young stared at the newcomer. “You double-crossing rat!” he fumed. “You were supposed to be working for us!”
“Sorry, professor.” Mike grinned coldly. “I happen to be working for the U.S. government. And it was my assignment to investigate the Cutler-Stiller gang for a series of international kidnap-pings and other offenses. I didn’t know then they were behind the Jenson disappearance.”
“Fantastic!” Frank exclaimed. “So you got a job with them—saying the law was after you?”
Mike grinned. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth, Frank. Now I can because my assignment is over and I’m a free agent again.”
“What about Mr. Ponsley?” Chet asked.
“I had to let him know because I wasn’t going with him.”
“But how did you meet with Dad?” Joe inquired.
“After I left Ponsley at the airport, I phoned my superior at the U.S. Consulate,” Mike went on. “He instructed me to assist Mr. Hardy in the Jenson case and the rounding up of the gang. So I met your father in Sydney and told him all I’d learned. We combined forces and flew into Port Augusta yesterday evening. By pooling all we knew, we were able to trace Stiller’s mob to this warehouse—but we still didn’t have the evidence to convict Young.”
“You’ve got it now,” said Chet. “Boy, what a case! So that’s why you couldn’t let your dad know what you were doing or where you were.”
Mike nodded. “But it’s all over now.” He glanced at the two Hardy boys. “By the way, your deductions about that bank security guard were correct. Thurbow has confessed that he was the one who tipped off the robbers about the alarm system, and that he switched those chemicals in the hope of putting the Hardys out of action.”
By now all the crooks had been taken downstairs except for Young. When a constable approached him with a pair of handcuffs, the scientist made a sudden break for the window. He squirmed through, grabbed the rope still dangling outside, and in seconds had shinnied down to the ground.
The constable leaned out the window and took aim with his gun.
“Don’t shoot!” Mr. Hardy warned. “We want him alive!”
Frank edged past them and went down the rope after the fugitive. Young headed for the woods behind the warehouse, and Frank followed at top speed. Joe, meanwhile, flew down the stairs, hoping to head Young off. The others followed.
The prisoners were being loaded into police cars in front of the warehouse. The constable paused to explain the latest turn of events to the sergeant, while Mr. Hardy and Chet followed Joe around to the rear of the building, just in time to see Frank disappear into the woods.
“Young must be ahead of him!” Joe said as they hurried after the young detective.
Frank lost sight of Young among the trees, but a path led him through the underbrush and he went forward until he came to a fork, where he had to guess which way Young had gone. He decided to take the left branch. A hundred yards in he caught sight of the fugitive.
Young, glancing over his shoulder, noticed Frank. Puffing from exertion, he darted from the path into the underbrush. He stumbled and tripped in the thick shrubbery, but he refused to slow down because he could hear his pursuer forcing his way through after him.
Young reached the right-hand path, looked around, and then ran back toward the fork, hoping to confuse Frank.
Joe, meanwhile, had taken the right-hand path, his father and Chet the left. The boy ran until he reached a towering tree, where he paused to get his bearings. He heard a rustling sound and looked up.
Young leaped down on him!
The rocket scientist hit the younger Hardy between the shoulders, and the pair went down amid leaves, vines, and plants. Stunned by the collision, Joe felt Young’s hand closing around his throat and choking off his breath. Grimly he struggled to break the hold. The man had a strategic advantage over him, and Joe gasped convulsively. The branches of the tree above him seemed to swing wildly as if whipped about by a heavy storm; then everything darkened and Joe went limp.
Suddenly he felt a hand pull him by the shoulder. He seized a wrist with his last bit of strength.
“Hold it,” Frank said. “It’s me!”
“Where’s Young?” Joe croaked.
“He ran off when he saw me coming—back toward the warehouse. We’ve got to get him. Think you’ll make it?”
“Sure, now that I can breathe again!” Joe rubbed his throat and the boys raced up the path. They reached the open space behind the warehouse and spotted Young jumping into the gang’s pickup. Two policemen hurried around the corner, but Young got the truck going and roared straight at them, forcing them to spring out of the way.
The man powered toward a side road near where the Hardys emerged from the woods.
“Don’t get in front of him!” Frank warned his brother. “He’ll run you down!”
“I won’t,” Joe replied, “but this will! Give me a hand, Frank!”
Together, they levered up a fallen log from the ground and hurled it under the front wheels of the speeding truck. The vehicle struck the log with a thump, careened wildly to one side, and jolted to a halt in the underbrush.
The Hardys pounced on Young and dragged him out of the driver’s seat. Realizing he could not escape again, he surrendered without a struggle. He too was loaded into one of the police cars in front of the warehouse, where Frank and Joe rejoined their father and Chet.
The Australian police detective complimented the Hardy boys on their quick thinking and fast action. “Now we have the whole gang,” he added with satisfaction.
Young gave Fenton Hardy a venomous stare. “What made you suspect me?” he rasped.
“Frank and Joe asked me to check out Smoky Rinaldo. He’d found all the clues at the Aerospace Lab that seemed to incriminate Dr. Jenson, and he could easily have planted them himself. But he turned out to be clean, as far as I could tell. Then I realized you could have planted the clues just as easily. What’s more, you were the only person who could have kept the gang tipped off about Frank and Joe’s moves. For that matter, you were probably the one who stole that pass Stiller used to get into the Aerospace Lab.”
“So Stiller followed us around the lab,” Frank commented. “And, on orders from Young, he shadowed us at the Nassau Club.”
Joe looked at Young. “You put on an act at the Princeton Library! You told me Stiller got out of the elevator and ran upstairs. Instead, you probably warned him to leave through the front door while you sent us on a wild-goose chase!”
Young glared at him but said nothing.
Frank spoke up. “And you told Stiller that we would be flying to Sydney so he could resume his job in Australia. By the way, was it you who phoned us at Sydney Airport and threatened us after we’d returned there with Mike Moran and Dr. Jenson?”
“What do you think?” Young snapped.
“I think he’s right,” Chet broke in. “I also think it was you who made that phone call to the hotel here in Port Augusta to keep Frank and Joe busy while your gang kidnapped Dr. Jenson from our room.”
“Right,” said Joe. “By that time, his private pilot was probably already flying back to Woomera to pick him up and bring him here.”
“And later,” Chet said to Young, “you tried to push me out of the warehouse window. If you weren’t handcuffed, I’d punch you right in the nose!”
Dr. Jenson spoke up with indignation. “Arthur, why did you go through that miserable play acting up in the warehouse loft just now?”
“Because I needed the last Firebird equations you’d been working on. That’s why. So I pumped you for the information in order to handle the project on my own.”
“But I don’t understand. Why was that so important to you?”
“I can answer that,” Mr. Hardy said. “In case you didn’t realize it, Young’s been working for a foreign power. When their intelligence agents picked up news of the Firebird’s development, they approached Young and paid him to eliminate you, Dr. Jenson, so he would be the one controll
ing the project. He was then to devise a scheme to foul up the launching in such a way that it would take NASA a long time to find out what went wrong. Young was supposed to turn over all our plans to this power so they could build a Firebird rocket of their own before we could recover from the foul-up and thus be ahead of us in this area of our space program.”
Frank shook his head in disgust. “It’s a good thing we prevented him from going through with his scheme,” he said. Frank was proud that he had had a part in solving the case, but also felt the familiar emptiness he always experienced when a case was finished. Would there ever be another mystery for the Hardy boys? Frank did not realize at this moment that their help would soon be needed in The Sting of the Scorpion.
“Well, Dr. Jenson,” Joe said, “now the tables are turned. You’ll be in charge of the rocket launching.”
“And it’ll be right on schedule!” Chet added enthusiastically. “I’m sure it’ll be a great success!”
Frank nudged his friend and grinned. “Not like yours at Bayport Meadow, Chet!”
The Firebird Rocket Page 12
