Joe took chances, dropping farther, straining to catch pipes. Once he bounced off a tube he'd aimed for and nearly went tumbling down through the maze. But he managed to grab on to another pipe and hang there for a moment, catching his breath. Looking down, he realized he'd nearly reached the compressor.
Below him, White was scrambling around on a large pipe, lashing Scott down. Scott fought against the ropes, but he was obviously scared about setting off the bomb on his stomach.
White tied the final knot around Scott's neck and looked up. Seeing Joe coming fast, he leapt off the big pipe like a spider monkey. Catching a thin pipe several yards away, he swung himself down into the darkness like Tarzan and silently disappeared.
Joe covered the last of the distance to Scott's pipe with a series of hair-raising jumps. He landed on all fours about a yard away from where Scott was tied.
"Scott, my brother's coming to help you out. I'm going after that maniac," he yelled. "Frank's coming."
Scott nodded, but Joe could see the panic in his eyes. The poor guy must be half out of his mind by now, Joe thought. He's been a captive for almost a month, building bombs for terrorists—and now he's a human bomb.
Joe continued his wild descent. Sandy White was still ahead of him, dashing through the tangle of pipes at the bottom of the station. He'd reached the floor but still had to climb over some broad feeder pipes as he headed for a side door.
Joe realized that White had made a mistake by going straight down. He still had to struggle across the floor. And that gave Joe a chance to catch up. He began angling his way down through the overgrown monkey bars, cutting a course to just above the doorway.
He glanced back. Frank had reached Scott and was struggling to untie him, balancing on the pipe and tugging at the knots at the same time.
Now it was up to Joe to win the race to the door. Joe remembered from the blueprint how this door led to a flight of stairs up to ground level and an exit to the pumping station. The area outside the station was open space.
Joe figured White would want to run a good way before finally detonating the bomb. He wouldn't know how far the exploding compressor would throw debris and would want to be a good distance from the building. Joe bore down, leaping and swinging through the pipes, almost in a trance now, knowing that his brother and Scott were depending on him.
White reached the door just seconds before Joe was in position to drop on him. The terrorist rammed into the exit with his shoulder, setting off an alarm.
Neither of them paid any attention to the shrill, bone-jarring siren. Joe swung down by the doorway and pushed through. He knew White was probably running up the stairs to the exit.
Clawing his way up the steps, Joe could feel his lungs burning with desperate fatigue. Now there was another door ahead of him. He rammed through to find a wide, empty space outside the building.
There was White, sprinting toward a helicopter with the North Slope logo. His escape vehicle had parked far out from the building. Its engine was already running, and a side door was open. White glanced over his shoulder, saw Joe, and forced his pace a bit faster. Joe didn't know if he could catch him. He only knew he had to.
From above came the clattering sound of another chopper. Joe looked up. It was Virgil. Spike Hammond stood in the open bay with the MAC-10 in his hands.
The North Slope pilot saw them, too. He turned up the throttle and lifted a few inches off the ground. Obviously he expected Sandy White to dive into the chopper headfirst, and then he'd take off.
Joe heard a shot. The engine of the North Slope chopper screamed to a halt. The blades whirred around helplessly, and the nose of the copter smashed into the ground. Hammond had hit a bull's-eye.
White stumbled to a halt. Joe could see his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The men in the damaged chopper bailed out of the open door and made a run for it. White watched his comrades scatter. He looked up to see Virgil's copter hovering. He faced Joe, who was sprinting toward him.
A thought flicked across Joe's mind as he sprinted toward White, This is where an Assassin is the most dangerous, when he's got nothing to lose and nowhere to go.
For a second Joe couldn't figure out why White was just standing there. Then he watched as the terrorist's hand flashed into his pocket. It came out with the detonator.
Joe put his head down and charged like a bull. But he knew he was too far away to stop him. White pressed the switch. Joe expected to hear a terrifying, expanding boom, the blast that would take out the compressor, Scott—and Frank Hardy.
Instead—there was nothing.
White stared, pushing the switch again and again. Still nothing.
A surge of joy erupted through Joe. He bore down on White like a freight train. Frank had done his job now it was Joe's turn. He was going to take this Assassin alive!
White threw the detonator switch away and bit down on something in his mouth—hard.
He's got a hollow tooth—and a suicide pill! thought Joe as he forced a little more speed out of his aching legs.
But White didn't go into convulsions in front of Joe. Apparently he was having trouble with the cap on his tooth. He was yanking on it with his fingers as he backed away from Joe.
Joe barreled up, realizing he'd have just one shot at stopping this guy. Still running full tilt, he reared back, then unleashed his right fist in a wild haymaker with all his weight behind it.
He caught White in the side of the jaw, snapping his head to the side. One punch was all he needed. White was out. And the poison pill was on the ground. Joe's punch had jarred the hollow tooth loose. When the Assassin was flung back, the tooth cap—and its deadly little filling—flew out of White's mouth.
***
Frank and Joe sat on either side of Scott as they waited for their plane at the airport. Cindy was with them, too. "I can't believe what you guys have done," she said. "It was nice of you to let Mr. Hammond turn Sandy White in."
Frank shrugged. "Yeah, well—he was pretty upset once he realized how he had been used. And he was in pretty deep trouble. This might help him. He'll probably still go to jail, but he won't have such a guilty conscience."
Joe grinned. "By the way, who's in charge of Trans-Yukon?"
"All the men who were fired came back and elected someone to run the company. They offered Scott a big job," Cindy said, smiling.
Scott Sanders shook his head till his long dark hair tumbled into his brown eyes. He looked like a young, handsome kid—until you saw the dark bags and fatigue under his eyes.
"No way!" he said. "All I want to do is go home and see my folks. Give me some time. Maybe I'll come back in a couple of months."
"Did they really give you a hard time?" Cindy asked sympathetically.
"Well, they lost all their explosives experts when they had an accident, so they kept me working pretty hard. I was tired, which is not the way to be when you're fooling around with bombs. And they never left me alone. That was hard, too."
"Man!" Joe exclaimed. "I don't know how you stood up to all that."
Scott looked at Joe with deep feeling in his eyes. "Well, then, Joe, we're even. I don't know how I can thank you and Frank for what you did. I owe you everything."
Joe patted him on the back. "We're just glad it worked out, and that we were able to stop those crazies. The authorities are collecting all the mines. And it turns out White is a big cheese in the Assassins. Once they've gotten all the info out of him, they hope to put a big dent in our friendly neighborhood terrorists."
Their plane was announced, and they began to gather their belongings.
Joe took Cindy by the hand. "If you'd like to come to Bayport sometime, let me know." He grinned. "We're not all that far from New York."
Cindy smiled. "Well, I was thinking about going to college in the East — who knows?" She shrugged. "It sounds good, but awfully far away."
"Far away from Alaska, maybe," Joe said. "But you'd be a lot closer to the rest of the world." Everyone laughed.
"Where's Virgil?" Frank asked, looking around. "He said he'd be here. We didn't have a chance to say goodbye."
"I don't know," Cindy said. "But you'd better go. Please write!"
Frank and Joe and Scott trudged across the tarmac to their plane. At the foot of the stairs, the attendant took their bags and stowed them in the baggage compartment. They climbed aboard and took their seats.
As the plane began to taxi toward the runway Scott and the Hardys looked out the windows and saw Cindy waving from the observation deck.
Then the plane took off, and they were on the way home.
Frank leaned back in his seat, finally able to relax—until he glanced out the window. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a speck in the sky.
"Looks like a helicopter." Joe's voice was casual, but he sat up straight. The chopper came closer and closer to the plane. Could it be a revenge attack from the Assassins?
It was close enough now to see inside the pilot's bubble.
"Holy smokes!" Joe laughed. "It's Virgil!"
The native Alaskan was grinning broadly as he waved goodbye to his friends.
"Look, there's Tanook," Frank said. "He's in the passenger seat!"
Tanook sat tall and proud next to his master. His pink tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and his fierce blue eyes stared quizzically at the passing plane. Frank and Joe laughed. Tanook's head cocked to the side, and then he seemed to bark.
"So long, Tanook!" Frank said. "So long, Virgil," Joe said quietly, almost to himself.
The chopper pulled away. In a matter of seconds it was lost in a bank of clouds.
The End.
Trouble in the Pipeline Page 10
