The Pentagon Spy

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Hammerley was amazed at the spectacle. “My goodness, young man, you really know how to do justice to a meal!” he commented.

  “Chet’s had a lot of practice,” Joe stated.

  Later, as night was falling, the boys left the house and went to the barn. They climbed up to the loft and discussed their strategy. They agreed to rotate one-hour watches—Joe first, Chet second, Frank third, and then back to Joe to repeat the series.

  Then they went to the skylight and peered out. Dark clouds drifted across the face of a full moon, causing the trees in the woods to throw ghostly shadows over the landscape. From down below came the scream of a wildcat hunting for its prey in the underbrush. Bats flitted in the night sky, zooming through the moonlight and disappearing into the darkness. Far off, a bell tolled mournfully in a church steeple.

  “Let’s keep the light out,” Frank suggested and sat down. “It might scare the thieves away.”

  “But I’m scared without it!” Chet declared. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Want to sleep in the farmhouse?” Frank needled.

  Chet looked at him darkly but didn’t reply. Finally he said, “What if the thieves outnumber us?”

  “We have a phone to send an SOS,” Frank told him. “Besides, the hex is on our side.”

  Being reminded of the hex sign over the barn door made Chet feel more uneasy than ever. Frank and Joe could not help but tease their pal, and they began to discuss how witches used hex signs to cast spells on their victims.

  “Strange things happen at the crossroads in the dark of the moon,” Joe intoned. It was a sentence he had read in the book on mystical lore.

  Chet shivered. “Please, fellows, let’s talk about something else. The only thing I want is—”

  His companions never found out what he wanted because he was interrupted by a sound on the roof in the vicinity of the weather vane. They jumped to their feet and quickly opened the skylight. They were about to climb out onto the roof, when they realized what had made the noise.

  A large horned owl sat on the arrow beside the copper eagle. It glared at them, hooted hoarsely, spread its wings, and sailed off into the moonlight.

  Frank and Joe broke out into relieved chuckles. “Some thief!” Joe said.

  “It certainly didn’t do my nerves any good,” Chet grumbled, wiping perspiration from his face.

  The three settled down again to wait in the darkness. Chet yawned. He kicked some of the hay in the corner into a makeshift mattress. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced and lay down. He closed his eyes and soon only his snoring disturbed the silence of the barn loft.

  Joe glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch. “Time for me to stand guard, Frank. You can turn in if you want to.”

  “Good idea,” Frank said. “I could use a little shut-eye.”

  But before he could get comfortable, a creaking noise came from downstairs. “Sh!” Frank warned, putting a hand on Joe’s right arm. The Hardys sat motionless, straining their ears.

  “It must have been the door,” Joe whispered. “Maybe the wind did it.” But then they heard a step creak on the lower stairs, then another, and another!

  “That’s not the wind,” Frank hissed. “Someone’s coming up the stairs!”

  In their detective work, the boys had developed a technique for dealing with situations like this. Noiselessly they tiptoed to the door and positioned themselves on either side of it.

  The stealthy footsteps drew closer and stopped on the landing outside. Frank and Joe felt their spines tingle and they breathed in muted gasps, while their eyes remained fixed on the door.

  It began to swing inward very slowly, inch by inch. When it was half open, a dark form slipped through into the loft! The Hardys could see the intruder was a man but did not recognize him. They sprang into action. Joe grabbed the stranger by the elbows, pulling his arms behind his back, while Frank got him around the waist.

  However, their adversary was quick and strong. He wrenched free of Joe’s grip and jumped clear of Frank. Then he bolted out the door! Frank hit him with a flying tackle, and the two rolled over and over down the stairs to the landing below.

  The kicking and pounding had awakened Chet. He and Joe rushed down the stairs after the two combatants to join the fray. Seconds later Chet immobilized the intruder with a headlock!

  6

  Helicopter Caper

  “All right, I give up!” the captive sputtered. “Just let go of me!”

  The voice sounded familiar to the boys, so they quickly pushed the intruder up the steps and into the loft where they shone the light on him. He was Crow Morven!

  “What in the world are you doing here?” Frank exploded.

  “I came for my jacket,” the man replied. “I must have left it in the loft.”

  “But why did you sneak up the stairs?” Joe demanded. “Why didn’t you just call out and let us know you were here?”

  “I figured you were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up. Did you have to pounce on me like that?”

  “You threw a few punches yourself,” Chet accused him. “And if you’d let us know who you were in the beginning, we all could have saved ourselves a lot of bruises!”

  “I know,” Morven muttered. “But after you jumped me I wasn’t sure whether it was you or the gang of thieves. After all, they could have come in and subdued you. Anyway, have you seen my jacket?”

  “You were wearing it over at the house,” Joe reminded him. “I saw you put the flashlight in your pocket.”

  “Oh ... yes. Now I remember. I must have left it out in the pasture,” Morven said, slapping his forehead with his hand. “Well, sorry about the bruises. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he turned on his heels and left.

  Joe snapped the light off again. “I don’t trust that guy,” he declared. “He didn’t forget his jacket. He was up to no good when he came sneaking in here!”

  “And remember how he tried to keep us away from the Flashing Arrow?” Frank asked. “Why would he do that if he was on the level? Maybe he took the collar off and didn’t want us to find out.”

  Chet nodded. “Joe, when he bumped into you, it wasn’t an accident, either. He was probably trying to knock you off the roof.”

  “I felt that all along,” Joe admitted.

  The boys agreed to keep an eye on Morven. After the excitement of the fight, none of them felt like sleeping. It occurred to Frank that it would be a good idea to check out the rest of the barn. “Morven could have dropped something downstairs before coming up,” he said. “One of us can stay here while the other two investigate.”

  They decided that Joe would remain on guard while Frank and Chet scouted through the lower levels. Frank took out his pencil flashlight. Using its narrow beam, he led the way down the stairs.

  At the bottom, they found a dozen stone steps, descended them, and ended up in a basement constructed from large cinder blocks. Chet yelled as something jumped onto his shoe. Frank whipped the flashlight around and the beam picked up a rat scurrying out of sight.

  Pressing on, the boys discovered farm machinery and a long bench holding tools for working on the machines.

  “This must be the repair shop,” Frank judged.

  Chet slapped a tractor with the palm of his hand. “Boy, I’d like to drive this baby out in the field! I’d show them how to make furrows!”

  He got into the driver’s seat of the tractor and began to experiment with the controls in the darkness, while Frank played his light on the ceiling.

  Varrooom! Suddenly the tractor engine sprang to life and the machine began to move, plowing forward into a pile of crates before Chet managed to brake to a halt! It all happened so fast that Frank could only stare at his friend, who was now festooned with straw that had fallen over him from one crate. The pile tilted at crazy angles over his head, and Chet looked horror-stricken at a broken crate in front of him.

  “I just turned on the ignition, and it took off!” he decla
red defensively.

  “You must have kicked it into gear without noticing it,” Frank said, suppressing a chuckle.

  “I guess so.” Chet backed the tractor to its original position and jumped down to inspect the crates he had hit. “Only one is smashed,” he said with relief.

  “They can use it for kindling,” Frank encouraged him.

  Chet pushed his hand through his hair to remove the straw and ran a finger around his collar. Then the two boys continued around the basement in the darkness. The flashlight showed dust and cobwebs everywhere except over one cinder block, where the mortar around the block had been pried loose and removed.

  “This looks like a hiding place!” Frank exclaimed excitedly. “Let’s see what’s in it.”

  Together they shifted the block back and forth and drew it from its position in the wall. Frank shone his beam into the cavity. They saw a parcel wrapped in brown paper inside.

  “Maybe it’s a bomb!” Chet said in alarm.

  “I won’t take any chances,” Frank promised. Picking up a long, thin stick from the floor, he stood to one side of the cavity and prodded the brown paper off the parcel. Underneath was a white cube about six inches square on each side.

  “That’s no bomb,” Frank muttered. Reaching in, he lifted the cube out, examined it, and began to chuckle. The whiteness was the reflection of waxed paper. Removing it, he held up a couple of sandwiches.

  “One of the farmhands must have put it behind the cinder block to keep the rats away,” Frank surmised.

  He put the sandwiches back in the paper covering, replaced them in their hiding place, and with Chet’s help pushed the cinder block into its old position. Then the boys proceeded toward the rear door of the barn, where the machinery entered and left. It was locked. Slowly, they continued along the wall and finally arrived back at the steps.

  “Let’s go up to the next level,” Frank suggested. “I don’t think there are any clues down here.”

  Chet nodded, and they climbed the stone staircase to examine the ground floor. This part of the barn was used for storing grain. Frank and Chet shuffled forward cautiously, passing bins of wheat, oats, rye, and corn.

  At the end of the row of bins, Frank turned right in the darkness, guided by the narrow beam of his flashlight. Chet, who was behind him, had caught his sleeve on a nail, which held him up for a moment. When he reached the place where Frank had turned, the light was too far away for him to see. He went left, expecting to catch up with his friend. Suddenly something clapped him on the shoulder, making him stop in paralyzed fright.

  “Is th-that you, Frank?” Chet whispered tremulously.

  There was no answer. He reached up and felt a soft pressure inside burlap sacking. The truth dawned on him. The corner of a large sack of grain had shifted under its own weight, sloped over as he passed, and struck him on the shoulder!

  Running the back of his hand across his forehead, Chet hurried on until he saw a dim light in the wall of the barn. He figured it must be the open door to another room and that Frank was in there. Quickly he stepped through and, with a terrified scream, plunged into darkness! He landed on a pile of corn in the silo.

  Groggily he struggled to his feet and discovered that the aperture of the silo was too high for him to climb through. “Frank!” he yelled. “Frank, help me!”

  The older Hardy boy, having circled the room, was near enough to hear Chet shouting. Hastening to the spot, he shone his light down into the silo. Chet stood there, ankle-deep in corncobs. His mouth was open and his eyes were glazed.

  “Chet, are you inspecting the corn for the horses and cows?” Frank asked with a chuckle.

  “Just get me out of here!” Chet pleaded.

  Frank spotted a rope on a hook and lowered one end to his friend. Then he wound the opposite end around a pulley used in lifting heavy sacks of grain and helped Chet scramble out.

  “I’ve had it!” Chet declared emphatically. “I want to get out of here pronto!”

  “We haven’t finished investigating,” Frank pointed out. “There’s the second floor—”

  “Oh, all right,” Chet grumbled. “But don’t lose me again!”

  They ascended the stairs to the next level of the barn. Here they made a rapid inspection of lighter farm implements—shovels, hoes, rakes, crowbars, pruning hooks, and so on.

  “Nothing here either,” Frank said finally. “Let’s get back to the loft and see what Joe’s doing.”

  But when the two arrived, Joe was gone!

  “Where in the world is he?” Frank said worriedly as he put on the light and looked around the loft. “He wouldn’t leave without letting us know!”

  “Maybe the thieves got to him while we were gone,” Chet said nervously.

  “It’s possible,” Frank replied somberly. “We were in the basement long enough that they could have hustled him down the stairs without our knowing it! If so, I’d better get on their trail. You stay here, Chet, while I run outside and see if I can find out what happened!”

  Frank was heading for the door when a dark shape loomed on the roof against the rising moon. The figure raised its arm as if to spring through the skylight!

  “Frank!” Chet quavered. “Don’t go!”

  Frank turned. “What’s up?”

  Speechlessly Chet pointed to the dark shape on the roof. As they stared, the figure swung down through the skylight into the loft. It was Joe!

  “I thought that owl we spotted might have knocked the weather vane off center,” he said. “So I went out to see before it tumbled down to the ground. What a windfall for the crooks that would have been! Did you find anything downstairs?”

  “Nothing,” Frank reported. “Chet even checked out the silo.”

  Their rotund pal squirmed as Frank described the incident to Joe. “Knock it off, fellows, will you?” Chet pleaded.

  “Don’t worry, we know we can count on you,” Frank mollified him. “And now it’s your turn to stand guard.”

  Chet parked himself on the floor with his back to the wall, while the Hardys lay down to sleep. Squinting through the skylight, he could see dismal clouds scudding across the moon. A rising wind shook the shingles of the roof with a mournful sound. Chet shuddered and felt relieved that he was not alone in the darkness of the barn loft.

  The minutes slipped away slowly. Everything was still, and Chet began to nod. Soon a snore arose from his corner. Fast asleep, he did not hear a faint sound in the night sky that grew louder as it approached.

  Suddenly a terrific clatter erupted overhead, waking the three boys. The noise continued past the barn, started to die away, then came back with a thunderous roar that shook the building.

  Frank and Joe leaped to their feet and rushed over to the skylight. Chet dived under the pile of hay. The noise diminished once more, and the Hardys climbed onto the roof. In the moonlight, they could see a helicopter circling for another approach to the barn. Again the clatter became deafening.

  “What’s that chopper doing?” Frank shouted in consternation over the noise.

  “I don’t know!” Joe yelled back. “The pilot must be a complete fool! He’ll hit the barn!”

  The helicopter came directly toward them. Someone on the inside played out a cable on a winch. It dropped ten feet and swayed back and forth under the chopper, which hovered over the roof. Four curved prongs spread out at the end of the cable.

  “He’s got a grappling hook at the end!” Frank shouted. “They’re after the Flashing Arrow!”

  The chopper moved slightly and the cable swung toward the weather vane. Then the grappling iron struck the copper eagle with a loud clang. It missed. The whirlybird passed over the barn with only feet to spare, flew off far enough to circle around, then started back toward the weather vane, lower than ever. Joe could see the painted legend on its side: JF333.

  The boys were scrambling up the roof in a frantic effort to reach the weather vane first. At the apex, they edged their way along the route they had taken with M
orven during the day. It was even more dangerous in the darkness, but the boys gritted their teeth and pressed on as fast as they could, with Frank in the lead.

  As he approached the Flashing Arrow, the chopper came directly toward him. It was so near that he could see the face of the pilot at the window, but the darkness prevented him from distinguishing his features.

  Frank had almost reached the weather vane when the grappling iron swung toward it from the opposite side. The metal claws closed beneath the arrow of the weather vane and grabbed it as the man at the winch jerked the cable upward!

  Desperately Frank lunged forward, his arm outstretched and his fingers grasping for the weather vane. But he missed by inches as the grappling hook plucked the Flashing Arrow from its bar. The winch rolled in the cable, drawing its prey into the interior of the chopper.

  Then the helicopter moved up and disappeared into the darkness!

  7

  The Charging Bull

  Frank slumped over the apex, breathing heavily. Joe almost lost his balance from the wind caused by the chopper’s blades, and for a few moments the brothers rested in silence. Then they made their way back to the loft.

  “I hate to tell Mr. Hammerley what happened,” Frank muttered.

  “I know,” Joe said. “But we have no choice.” He lifted the phone and listened. Then he jiggled the instrument. “It’s dead!” he declared.

  Frank walked to the skylight and hauled in the wire. “It’s been cut. Judging by the length, it was severed down below. I’ll go over to Mr. Hammerley and tell him. You and Chet might just as well stay here.”

  He left the barn and walked to the house, where he pressed the doorbell. Getting no response, he pushed the bell several more times. Then he banged the knocker and hammered on the door with his fist, at the same time shouting, “Mr. Hammerley! Mr. Hammerley!” Still, no answer came from inside the house.