“It’s you! Thank goodness!” Aunt Gertrude ex· claimed.
Briefly Frank and Joe told what had happened to them. In turn they asked for particulars about the burglars at the factory, and whether their father had reported anything further.
“No,” Mrs. Hardy answered. “You’re to stand by until he calls. In the meantime you’d better get to bed.”
As the boys were putting on pajamas a little later, Frank said he thought the house should be guarded.
“That gang may still try something desperate —and before morning.” He slipped into slacks and moccasins. “I’m going downstairs,” he said.
“I’ll take a turn later,” Joe told him. “But call me if you hear anything.”
It was nearly two o’clock when Frank halted at a side window that looked out on the driveway. As he peered through the narrow space, he drew back quickly. Was it an illusion, or did he detect a motion in the bushes beside the garage?
Every muscle in the boy’s body tensed as he watched. The bushes parted and a man looked out. The dark figure stood motionless as if to listen, then made a “come-on” motion with his hand. Immediately the bushes parted again and a second figure emerged from the shadows. Together they tiptoed toward the house, hugging the shadows.
Frank raced upstairs to summon Joe. The younger boy, rousing instantly, hopped into slacks and loafers and hastened to the first floor.
“There they are!” Frank whispered, pointing to the space below the shade of the side window “They’re coming to the back door.”
“They can’t open it.”
“I unlocked it. We’ll jump’em.”
“Good strategy.”
The boys tiptoed into the kitchen and stood behind the door. Soon they heard a low voice say:
“We can’t fail this time. We’ve got to get Hardy’s reports ...”
“We’ll try the door, then one of the windows.” The knob turned. “What do you know? They left this door unlocked.”
The door opened slowly.
“Okay!” came a hoarse whisper. “This way. Don’t make a sound. And watch out for the two boys.”
As a dark figure appeared in the doorway, Joe charged like a young bull, hitting the intruder a solid blow and tumbling him onto the porch.
Frank followed with a flying tackle in the direction of the second man, but missed him. He dashed off through the yard and vaulted the hedge. Frank went after him.
Joe was still grappling with the man on the porch. The struggling prisoner suddenly jack-knifed his knees and was about to deliver a vicious kick at the boy’s head when the porch light went on and a voice shouted:
“Don’t you dare!”
A rush of footsteps was instantly followed by a sharp blow, and the man went limp as an empty glove. Joe jumped up.
Joe charged like a young bull
The light from the kitchen revealed Aunt Gertrude, her brother’s hickory stick in her right hand, standing over the prone figure.
“Try to harm my nephew, will you?” she said, waving the cane menacingly.
As the man moaned and tried to sit up, Joe gasped. The fellow was tall and had red hair!
“You!” the boy cried out. “The man who knocked out my friend Chet and me and took our two thousand dollars!”
The prisoner glared. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he muttered weakly.
“Oh, yes, you do,” Joe said. Aunt Gertrude handed him a rope and he bound the intruder’s arms and legs. “You’re one of the gang my father’s after. You’re smuggling rifles out of this country.”
For an instant there was a look of guilty surprise on the man’s face, then he denied ever having heard of such a thing.
By this time Mrs. Hardy had arrived on the scene, and suggested they go inside the house.
“This is all a mistake, lady!” the prisoner pleaded.
“We’ll let the police decide that.”
Before they could telephone headquarters, Frank came rushing into the house. “You’ve got him!” he cried, seeing the prisoner. “That practically proves we have the right car!”
“What car?” Joe asked.
Frank explained that when he chased the red-haired man’s companion along the street back of the Hardys’, the fellow had started to cross over to a parked car. He had changed his mind when two policemen loomed up beside it, and he had sped on.
“Was he caught?”
“No. He was too quick for Smuff and Riley and me.”
“Smuff and Riley?”
Frank nodded. “They were given this beat to patrol, and actually found a blue car with a scratch on the door. It fits the description of the one parked near Chet’s farm.”
The prisoner’s jaw opened in astonishment. Frank went on, “If he won’t tell us who he is, the motor vehicle department will.”
“It’s not my car!” the man cried out. “It belongs to ...” Suddenly he realized he had said too much, and from then on kept sullenly silent.
“Where are Smuff and Riley?” Aunt Gertrude asked. “Bring them here to take this—this cutthroat away!”
Officer Riley came in, puffing from the exertion of pushing the car around the comer. Smuff was guarding it at the curb.
“A prisoner, eh?” Riley beamed. “You sure got him tied up for delivery.” He laughed at his own joke. “Well, I’ll take him to headquarters.”
“Just a minute,” Frank said. “I believe the rest of the gang may have been brought in by the Coast Guard. I’ll make a phone call.”
He went to the hall telephone and spoke to the lieutenant, first telling him of the red-haired man’s capture, then asking if the launch or speedboat or yacht had been boarded.
The officer said his men had returned empty-handed. The suspected craft had too much of a headstart. He assured Frank, however, that a plane would be sent out at daybreak to check on the yacht.
Frank hung up, but stayed at the telephone. In a loud voice he said excitedly, “Oh, that’s just great, Lieutenant! Now our prisoner will certainly talk!”
He returned to the kitchen. Continuing his hoax, he said to their captive, “Quite a racket you fellows were carrying on. How did you ever get tangled up in such a dangerous business? Uncle Sam has taken a hand in it now!”
The man glowered, but remained silent.
Both Frank and Joe tried to force a further confession from him, but he remained obdurate. Finally Frank said:
“We may as well turn you over to the police. They have ways of making people talk. Riley, how about calling headquarters for a car to take this guy down?”
“Sure thing, Frank,” the officer assented. “Then I’ll go outside and tell Smuff what’s happened.” He went to the telephone. While he was gone, Joe said:
“I wish we could keep our prisoner here until we hear from Dad.”
The man greeted these words with an evil snort.
“Your dad, eh? Fenton Hardy! I knew we’d get around to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen here. If you promise to let me go, I might be able to make a little deal with you folks.”
“We don’t go for deals,” Joe said. “But what’s on your mind?”
“It’s simple. In exchange for my freedom I’ll give you some important information. I’ll tell you where they’re holding your father!”
CHAPTER XIX
Danger in North Woods
“DAD captured?” Joe shouted in disbelief.
The man nodded, smiling evilly. Mrs. Hardy turned white, and Aunt Gertrude put an arm about her.
“How do we know you’re not lying?” Joe asked evenly.
The man shrugged. “That’s up to you.”
The Hardys moved out of earshot of the criminal for a whispered conference. All agreed that the story of the factory theft might have been a means of luring the detective into a trap.
“We’ll check on this burglary,” Joe said. “Where was it?”
“In Hambleton at the airplane motors
factory.”
“I’ll call the police.” Joe hurried upstairs to his father’s study. But neither the local nor State Police had heard of the theft. Joe came downstairs and relayed the news to his family.
“I can’t believe Dad would walk into a trap that easily,” said Frank. “Wait a minute. I want to look for something in his files.”
He went to the study and unlocked Fenton Hardy’s filing cabinet, which he had permission to do in case of emergency.
Thumbing through the files, Frank noted that Mr. Hardy was under contract to direct plant security work at the Hambleton company where secret government work was being carried on.
The name and private number of the company’s president were listed. Frank quickly dialed.
Mr. Hartwick answered. When Frank had convinced him of his identity, Mr. Hartwick said:
“Yes, Frank. There has been a burglary here. We’re keeping it secret to tackle the problem from the inside first.”
“Is Dad all right?”
“Yes, so far as I know. He’s out here now.”
“Will you find him and have him phone home? Something important has come up here.”
As Frank hurried down the stairs he heard scuffling in the kitchen. The redheaded man was trying desperately to get away.
“Your trick didn’t work,” Frank announced. “I know where my father is.”
Frank told the others that Mr. Hardy was safe. Just then the telephone rang. Moments later Frank heard the calm voice of his father at the other end of the line.
Frank quickly told all that had happened to them on the ocean and later. Fenton Hardy listened in amazement. When the boy had finished, the detective said:
“You boys have done a great job. Now there are two things I want you to do. Try to find out something about the helicopter. And meet me here at noon.”
“Yes, Dad.”
As Frank said good-by, a prowl car stopped in front of the house. Two policemen jumped out and hustled the prisoner into the car.
The Hardy home became quiet once more as the four occupants retired for some much-needed sleep. Frank and Joe did not awaken until nine o’clock. As soon as they were dressed, Joe telephoned the Coast Guard. After a long conversation he hung up.
“The Coast Guard’s flying boat located the yacht,” he told Frank.
“Did they stop it?”
“Landed alongside and boarded her.”
“What did they find?”
“Nothing! Everything was in order and the captain, named Haxon, denied any connection with a helicopter. If the yacht was carrying smuggled goods, the captain probably got scared and ordered it dumped overboard. Anyway, the plane’s keeping an eye on the yacht as she goes down the coast.”
A desperate effort to find a trace of the helicopter drew a blank.
“It’s a private helicopter—very private,” Joe concluded. “And flies only at night. But we’ll find it, just as soon as this burglary business is settled.”
At eleven-thirty the boys started out to meet their father. The factory was surrounded by a high wire fence. As Frank drove up to the main gate, he was stopped by a uniformed guard.
The guard studied the boys’ identifications for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
The brothers were soon ushered into Mr. Hartwick’s office. Their father and the company president were seated at a desk, minutely examining something with a magnifying glass.
“Hello, boys,” the detective greeted them. “Mr. Hartwick, I want you to meet Frank and Joe, my two assistants.”
The boys shook hands with him, and the detective continued. “Burglars broke into this plant last night and stole a quantity of secret airplane gadgets being made for use in United States military planes. As they left, one of them dropped this.”
He held up a twenty-doIlar bill. “Ever see this before?” He handed the money over.
Frank looked at the serial number, comparing it with the list in his wallet. “I’ll say so! This is one of the bills I gave to Chet.”
“Just as I figured,” the detective said. “Either the extortionists and the burglars are the same people, or they’re associated in some way. Boys, I want you to do something for me.”
“Yes, Dad?”
“Tour this plant as if you were on an inspection trip of some kind. Keep your eyes open for that phony salesman you saw at Chet’s farm, or anybody else you’ve caught a glimpse of in this mystery. We think one or more of the gang we’re after may be working right here.”
Guided by a junior executive, the boys went from one department to another, but nobody answered the description of any of the suspects. Frank and Joe. were completing the tour in the packing department when Joe stopped short and pointed.
“Frank, look at that engine over there!”
“That’s just like the one we saw in the shack in the woods!” his brother said in a low voice.
The boys hastened back to their father and voiced their suspicions. The detective looked at Mr. Hartwick. “Have you missed any motors?”
“Several,” Mr. Hartwick replied. “But we thought they were lost by the trucking company. We’ve sent through a tracer but haven’t heard a thing yet.”
The Hardys were convinced the motors had been stolen and hidden in North Woods.
“We won’t put off our trip to the woods any longer,” the boys’ father said. “I only hope those suspects haven’t moved out.”
The company president thanked the Hardys for their help and they left the factory. They arrived home to find Aunt Gertrude standing on the front steps, an envelope in her hands.
“A state trooper brought this a second ago,” she said. “It’s for you, Fenton.”
Mr. Hardy opened the envelope, his eyes taking on a look of satisfaction as he read the enclosure. “Even better than I thought,” he said, explaining that he had asked for a list of any recent factory thefts along the Atlantic seaboard. “This note says there have been thefts in five airplane and three rifle manufacturing plants. The thing to do now is fit the pieces of this puzzle together.”
After a hasty luncheon, Mr. Hardy asked his sons to come to his study. Reaching into his gun case, he pulled out two pistols.
“Take these. You may need them if the wolves attack. I’ll make out the appropriate permits for you to carry them. We’re on a dangerous mission.”
“Dad, do you think these thefts of airplane parts and rifles are tied up with the mystery of the wailing siren?” Frank asked.
“Yes. I’m sure they’re being shipped out of the country on that yacht.”
“With the help of the helicopter?” Joe asked excitedly.
“That’s what we have to prove. It may be a difficult matter to locate the helicopter. But the clues you boys have picked up seem to tie together neatly,” Mr. Hardy said admiringly.
He checked his own pistol, then picked up a peculiar-looking weapon, which he put into a shoulder holster.
“This is a special gun,” he said. “It doesn’t kill —just shoots a gas that acts as an anesthetic.”
With admonitions from Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude to be careful, the three hurried to the boys’ car. Frank took the wheel and drove to the trail which the campers had taken. With Joe in the lead, they started off through the woods.
Upon reaching the brook, they crossed it and went in a straight line toward the wolf-man’s cabin.
The Hardys pressed quickly and silently through the dense woodland for half an hour. Suddenly they became aware of distant howls.
“The wolves!” Joe said.
“They’ve picked up our scent!” Frank cried out.
The boys loaded their pistols. Mr. Hardy led the way, halting suddenly behind a thorny bush.
“The wire stockade!” Joe whispered.
Before them was the enclosure, from which came the howling of the excited wolves.
Mr. Hardy took out his shoulder gun. “Temporary sleep won’t harm these beasts!” he said. “While I�
��m giving them a taste of this gas, you boys see if their owner’s at home and keep him. busy till I show up.”
As the detective crept forward through the heavy brush, Frank and Joe angled off in the direction of the cabin. When they had almost reached it, they halted.
Before them, framed in the dark doorway, stood the bearded wolf-man. He stepped out, quickly followed by another man, who was small, stooped, and unshaven. When they saw the boys, both men stopped short.
“I thought I told you trespassers to stay away from here!” the wolves’ owner shouted at them angrily.
“We’d like to talk to you,” Frank said.
The smaller man grinned at his companion through two broken teeth. “Who are they, Krack? Friends of yours?”
Krack! Another piece of the puzzle suddenly dropped into place. The man from the launch had mumbled Krack—gun—Krack!
“The only things that talk around here are the wolves,” Krack said cuttingly. He motioned with his hand. “Come here, Saber!”
At his command, the wolf stalked through the doorway. It eyed the boys savagely, whining for his master to give the word and he would be at their throats.
The boys thrust their hands into their pockets. The pistols were ready. They would use them only in case ...
Suddenly Saber pricked up his ears. Krack took notice.
“There’s somebody at the stockade, Jezro!” he cried out. Then he bellowed at the wolf. “Stockade, Saber! Kill!”
Gooseflesh rose on the Hardy boys as the brute dashed toward the stockade. They had forgotten to warn their father about this killer!
CHAPTER XX
A Surprise Capture
THE Hardy boys stared in horror as the wolf bounded toward the stockade.
They raced after it, pistols poised to shoot if they could sight the animal. Suddenly, from near the cage, came the report of a gun. There was a yelp of pain, then complete silence.
When Frank and Joe reached the clearing, their father was not in sight. The caged wolves lay in a stupor. Saber was dead.
Krack and Jezro arrived on the heels of the boys. They stared transfixed at the sight. Then Jezro gave a crazy laugh and dashed off among the trees.
The Wailing Siren Mystery Page 10
