“Sounds like a plan,” Frank said. “I’d be more than happy to pay that guy back for what he put us through.”
The brothers quickly searched the brush on either side of the road. In no time Joe located a big rotting log. The two of them hauled it out of the woods and dropped it across the dirt road. They picked up a couple of stout branches to use as weapons and took up positions on either side of the rutted track. The boys chose concealed spots close to the road. That way, when the car stopped and the shooter got out, they’d be able to jump him from behind.
They tried not to shiver as they waited for the approaching vehicle.
The green-and-brown four-by-four roared out of the fog. The driver spotted the big log laid across the road and skidded the vehicle to a halt. He got out to look at the blockage. The man was dressed in a tan park ranger’s uniform and hat.
The Hardys came out of the woods and hailed the man. They held on to their sticks, since they’d never gotten a good look at the sniper. It seemed unlikely that this ranger would be the shooter, but . . .
“Hey!” Joe said. “Are you with the park service?”
The driver turned, surprised to see them. The brothers noticed that he wasn’t wearing a sidearm and surreptitiously dropped their sticks. The ranger peered at them through the fog and darkness.
“Are you Frank and Joe Hardy?” the man asked.
The brothers exchanged a puzzled glance. “That’s us,” Frank said.
The ranger smiled. “I was sent out to look for you boys,” he said, “but they told me you’d be out by Lake Kendall. How’d you get this far south?”
“That’s a long, wet story,” Frank said.
“We’d be happy to tell you once we’re in a nice, warm car, though,” Joe added.
“Hop in,” the ranger said. “I’ll get some blankets out of the back.”
The brothers helped the ranger move the big log out of the road, then the three of them got into the Jeep. The ranger grabbed some blankets from the back of the four-by-four. The brothers huddled together as the ranger turned up the heat inside the vehicle.
“That was pretty clever, putting that log across the road to get me to stop,” the ranger said. “You guys must be pretty resourceful. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised to find you alive. They told me that you jumped out of a plane, and one of you didn’t have a parachute.”
“Two planes, actually,” Joe said.
“We were chasing some airplane thieves,” Frank said, “but they got away.”
“They stole a plane belonging to one of our friends,” Joe added.
“Out at Scott Field,” the ranger said, nodding. “I heard about that on the news. They said the plane stolen this afternoon disappeared over the park.”
“Have there been any other planes that disappeared over the park before?” Frank asked.
“You mean aside from the one stolen last night?” the ranger asked. “Not that I’ve heard.”
“We were thinking of sometime earlier—this year or maybe last,” Joe explained. “Maybe even longer ago than that.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” the ranger said, “and I’ve been working here for five years. Why do you ask?”
Joe and Frank exchanged furtive glances and decided not to mention the plane under the ice at the moment. “No reason,” Frank said. “We’re just trying to see if there’s a pattern here.”
“Could we use your cell phone?” Frank then asked, noting one plugged into the cigarette lighter next to the Jeep’s two-way radio.
“Be my guest,” the ranger said. “The reception is pretty spotty out here, but I think we’re close enough to the relay tower for it to work all right. Help yourself. I’m going to call in the news that I found you and you’re okay.” He handed Frank the cell phone and picked up the two-way radio receiver for himself.
The ranger called into park headquarters while Frank dialed Jamal. The brothers arranged to have Jamal pick them up; the ranger called off the search-and-rescue operation that had been sent out to find the boys. The brothers then called their parents to let them know that they were okay.
“Jamal’s renting a car,” Frank told Joe. “He’ll meet us at the ranger station at the southern edge of the park.”
“I told the search-and-rescue guys to keep the media away,” the ranger said. “I figure you guys have gone through enough for one day.”
“Definitely!” Joe exclaimed.
In half an hour they arrived at the ranger station. Jamal showed up soon after that. He’d brought a fresh change of clothes for the brothers, who were more than glad to get out of their wet clothes.
“So, you told the rangers about the sniper in the woods,” Jamal said.
“We said that we thought someone was shooting at us,” Frank replied.
“They said that the property on the north side of the lake was private land and out of their jurisdiction, but they’d look into it,” Joe added. “They’re checking for the other parachutist too. But I doubt they’ll find him. It’s a pretty big area to search.”
“They seemed to think the shooter might have been a hunter who mistook us for a game animal in the dark,” said Frank.
“You guys don’t think so, though,” Jamal said.
“The person with the gun chased us,” Joe said. “You might fire one shot at a shape in the darkness by mistake, but not a half dozen.”
“So, do you think it was the parachutist?” Jamal asked.
Joe shook his head. “If that guy had a weapon handy, why did he attack me with a parachute?”
“Maybe he had an accomplice on the ground,” Frank said.
“Maybe they landed the plane nearby and came after you,” Jamal suggested.
“Could be,” Joe said, “though we didn’t see the plane land in the fog.”
“Hang on,” Frank said. “The tracks we saw on the ice might have been from a plane, right?”
“It’d be pretty risky landing on that ice,” Jamal said.
“But they’d need to pick up the second hijacker,” Joe said. “And shooting us might seem a good idea to the thieves—to get rid of witnesses.”
“It still doesn’t explain where the gun came from,” Frank said, “unless the pilot had it in the cockpit.”
“Criminals have been known to carry weapons,” Jamal said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Three quarters of an hour later they arrived back at Scott Field. The night was pitch-black. Patches of fog still limited visibility at the airfield. Jamal had borrowed the car he was using from Elise; arranging to rent one would have taken too much time.
“She was really glad you guys were okay,” Jamal said as he pulled the car into the administration building parking lot. “This whole thing really has her flustered.” They parked the car and got out. “She said I should slip the car keys through the mail slot in the door. She was going home to try to get some rest.”
“All the trouble with the show must be pretty stressful,” Joe said.
“I think she used the words ‘worst nightmare,’” Jamal said. He pushed the keys through the mail slot of the building. Frank checked the door, just to make sure it hadn’t been taped open again. It hadn’t.
“I’m surprised the whole airfield isn’t crawling with police and reporters,” Frank said.
“It was earlier, but you know how those media vultures are,” Jamal said. “They move on if there’s no fresh meat to circle.”
“Cops and investigators need sleep too, I guess,” Joe commented.
“I’m sure they’ll be back in force tomorrow morning,” Frank said. They cut around the building and headed toward the Cessna; Jamal wanted to check it one more time before they turned in.
As they passed by the old control tower, Joe stopped suddenly. “Look!” he said.
A shadowy figure was moving around in the darkened room at the top of the tower.
11 Tower of Peril
* * *
“Let’s check it out,” Frank said. The three fri
ends tried the door at the base of the control tower. It was open.
“Taped, just like the door to Flaubert’s office,” Joe said.
“These guys need to get some new tricks,” Jamal whispered.
“Sometimes the old tricks are the best,” Frank said.
They crept into the base of the tower, which appeared to be mostly storage space for spare parts and other items connected to the maintenance of the tower and its equipment.
Finding the stairs, they moved quickly up to the second floor, which housed the electronic guts of the control tower operations. The stairs from the second floor wound up one wall of the tower to the third-floor control deck. As silently as they could the teens ran up into the control room.
As they topped the stairs, they saw a black-garbed figure bent over one of the radar control panels at the far side of the room. The computer beside the panel was on, and the intruder seemed to be working at the keyboard. The black ski mask pulled over his head was proof—as if the taped door weren’t enough—that he was not part of the regular air traffic crew.
When he heard the boys’ footsteps, the surprised opponent rose quickly and flicked the computer’s off switch. He turned as the teens ran at him. By the time Frank got to him, the burglar was ready.
The masked man kicked the chair he had been sitting on at the group. It shot across the floor on its metal wheels and caught Frank and Joe in the legs.
As they staggered, the criminal grabbed a folding chair stacked against the wall nearby. He swung the chair into Frank’s back, and the elder Hardy crashed to the floor. The burglar tried to catch Joe on the backswing, but the younger Hardy seized the chair and shoved hard.
The burglar stumbled back across the room. Joe tried to pin the intruder against the wall with the chair. The burglar dropped suddenly and swept his left leg into Joe’s knees. Joe fell back, hard, but Jamal rushed in to take his place.
Jamal jabbed with his left, then aimed for the burglar’s chin with a right uppercut. The intruder countered the first blow, but couldn’t entirely deflect the second. Jamal’s fist caught him on the jaw. The burglar staggered back into the glass door leading onto the balcony.
As the Hardys got to their feet, Jamal bore in on their enemy. The burglar opened the door behind him and stepped out onto the mesh floor of the balcony. Jamal rushed onto the narrow walkway after him.
The burglar kept backing up, drawing Jamal farther around the balcony.
“Keep him pinned, Jamal!” Joe called as he and Frank rushed through the door after him. “We’ll circle behind!”
“Got it,” Jamal said, aiming another punch at the intruder’s head. The felon blocked the blow. Frank and Joe ran to the other side of the balcony to take him from the back.
When Jamal threw his next punch, the burglar blocked it and surged forward. He snapped his forehead into Jamal’s face, head-butting him. Jamal staggered back, and the intruder shoved him hard.
Jamal toppled over the balcony railing, barely grabbing hold of the steel rail as he went. He hung over the edge, his feet dangling in the air.
The intruder dashed past Jamal and back into the control tower.
“Jamal!” Joe cried as he and Frank raced to his rescue.
The brothers grabbed hold of their friend’s arms and quickly hauled him back up to the balcony. As they did so, the burglar ran down the stairs and out of the control tower.
“Thanks, guys,” Jamal said. “Sorry I lost him.” He looked dazed.
“We may catch him yet,” Frank said. “Are you okay?”
“Still seeing spots in front of my eyes from when he head-butted me,” Jamal said.
“Wait here,” Joe said. “We’ll catch the guy.”
He and Frank tore through the control room and back down the stairs. When they exited the control tower, they saw no sign of the burglar.
“I think I saw him go toward the east row of hangars!” Jamal called down to them from the balcony above.
“Thanks!” Joe yelled back. He and Frank sprinted toward the hangars and soon caught sight of the figure. He was darting between the buildings up ahead.
“This time he’s not giving us the slip,” Frank said. He sped up, and Joe ran to keep up. They darted into the narrow walkway between the two hangars where the burglar had disappeared.
As the Hardys came out from behind the buildings, a flash of movement to their right caught their attention. They thought it might be the burglar, but a moment later they spotted the guy up the alley, moving in the opposite direction. The brothers turned and ran after the man.
Before they had gone a dozen steps, though, a bloodcurdling scream split the damp air.
“Help! Help me!”
It was a woman’s voice, and it was coming from the other side of the service buildings behind the hangars.
For a moment the brothers hesitated.
The frantic cry sounded again. “Help!”
“Let’s go,” Joe called to Frank. He turned and ran toward the scream. Grumbling, Frank did the same; he didn’t want to lose the intruder.
They dashed between two of the cinder block support buildings and came out near the front of the cafeteria. As they emerged from the narrow alley, they saw a woman lying crumpled on the ground next to a large puddle of water.
“Are you all right?” Frank asked, rushing to the woman’s side.
The woman raised her mud-covered face, and they saw it was Rita Davenport. “A man came out of the fog and attacked me!” she said.
“What did he look like?” Joe asked.
“He was wearing black clothes and had on a black mask,” she said.
Frank scowled. “We knew the burglar had an accomplice,” he said. “There were two people aboard Brooks’s stolen plane. Did he hurt you?”
“I thought he was going to,” Ms. Davenport said, “but no. He just knocked me down. I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.”
“The two guys must have arranged to meet behind the hangar,” Joe said. “When we chased the guy from the control tower, they split up.”
“And one of them attacked Ms. Davenport,” Frank said. “Possibly as a distraction.” He helped the frightened woman to her feet.
“Whether they planned it or not, we’ve lost those guys now,” Joe pointed out.
“W-Would you please walk me back to my motel room?” Ms. Davenport asked. “Or maybe Mr. Manetti’s room. I just don’t feel safe alone.” She brushed her tangled blond hair away from her pretty face and looked at the brothers.
“Sure thing,” Frank said. “We’ll make sure you get back safely.” He and Joe escorted Ms. Davenport back across the airfield to the old motel. As they walked, they heard police sirens approaching Scott Field.
“Looks like Jamal got in touch with the police,” Frank said. “Too bad we don’t have much for them.”
“Helping Ms. Davenport was more important than catching that burglar,” Joe told him. “I’d hate to think that anyone got hurt, even if we were chasing a criminal.”
“Thanks again,” Ms. Davenport said as they reached the motel. “Mr. Manetti is in room forty-two.”
“No problem,” Joe replied. “But I wonder, what were you doing prowling around the airfield so late at night?”
“I wanted something to drink, and the machine at the motel was all out of the soda I like,” she replied. “I remembered that the machine near the cafeteria had the same brand, so I went there. It didn’t seem like a dangerous idea at the time.” She knocked on Manetti’s door.
“Just a minute,” a man’s voice called from inside. A moment later Tony Manetti, dressed in a bathrobe, appeared at the door. His hair was wet, and he had a towel in his hand. “Rita?” he said. “What’s going on?”
“A masked man jumped me near the cafeteria.”
“That’s awful,” Manetti said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Davenport said. “I just need someplace safe to sit and relax awhile.”
“Come on in,” Mane
tti said. “You can stay as long as you need to. Just let me get dressed.” Turning to the Hardys, he added, “Thanks for bringing her back to the motel.”
“No problem,” Frank said. Eyeing Manetti’s wet hair, he asked, “Where were you just a little while ago?”
“I was here, taking a shower, until you came,” Manetti said. “Why do you ask?”
“I was with Mr. Manetti until I went for my soda,” Davenport said. “We were talking about business possibilities at the air show tomorrow.”
“If there is an air show tomorrow,” Joe said. “With so much trouble, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was canceled.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Manetti said. “There are too many industry people meeting here. There’s important business to be done. For a lot of folks this is a make-or-break show every year.”
“Is it make or break for you?” Frank asked.
“Nah,” Manetti said. “I try never to put all my eggs in one basket. Anyway, thanks again, boys. I’ll take care of Rita now.” She stepped inside, and Manetti closed the door.
“Come on,” Frank said. “We’d better get back to Jamal.” He and Joe looked back toward the control tower. The police cars were gathering around it.
As they began to walk in that direction, a voice called them. “Hey, boys, what’s all the commotion about?” It was Jack Meeker. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he stood in a motel room doorway.
“Yeah, what’s going on?” growled Rock Grissom, appearing in another doorway. He was dressed in a robe and was rubbing his eyes.
“A break-in at the control tower,” Frank said.
“It seems to me that trouble must like you guys,” Meeker said. “It seems to follow you everywhere.”
“Isn’t this motel a little low-class for you, Mr. Meeker?” Joe asked testily.
Meeker smiled. “I like to stay close to the action,” he said. “Though I’ll admit, there’s more action here than I expected.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Frank said. “You should go back to bed.”
In Plane Sight Page 7
