The Firebird Rocket (11 page)

Ponsley's feet became entangled with one another, and he fell headlong into the sand. The kangaroo leaped clear over him! The boys yelled at the top of their lungs to frighten the creature, and, after landing on its strong hind legs, it hopped rapidly away into the distance.

The Hardys helped Ponsley up and brushed the sand off his suit. He was indignant about the kangaroo confrontation, and for the rest of the drive he kept insisting that they should never have ventured into the Outback.

They crossed the Sandover River and continued north until Frank spotted a large warning sign: CUTLER RANCH—KEEP OUT!

“Maybe we shouldn't drive in there,” Chet advised.

“Hey, we've come all the way from Alice Springs to check this place out,” Joe reminded him. “Besides, it's almost dark already and no one will see us.” He switched off the headlights and turned up a rutted drive leading to the property. He drove slowly till they reached a wire fence with a gate. Beyond it stood the ranch house.

Joe stopped the car and the boys strained to look at the building. Suddenly a light snapped on in one window.

“I don't think it would be wise to barge up to the front door and knock,” Frank commented.

“Right,” Joe agreed. “We'll have to sneak in.”

Ponsley shook his head. “You do as you please. I'll stay here.”

“That's okay,” Frank told him. “Joe, why don't you park behind that pile of rocks over there so the car will be out of sight.”

Joe did and the boys got out, leaving Ponsley huddled in the back seat. The three youths headed for a point well to the right of the gateway. The fence was made up of five taut wire strands.

When they reached the gate, Frank and Joe got down on their hands and knees and crawled under the lowest strand. Chet followed, but the wire caught him in the back. “I can't move!” he muttered to his friends.

“We'll get you loose,” Frank whispered. “Just a minute!” Bracing himself with his feet, he lifted the taut wire as far as he could. Joe took hold of Chet's collar and tugged it. The wire released the boy, who shot forward on his face into the sandy soil on the opposite side of the fence.

“Okay, let's go!” Frank said.

“Wait. I lost a shoe!” Chet pleaded.

Joe slapped his forehead. “What a time to pick!” He felt around in the darkness, found the shoe, and pushed it into Chet's hand. “Tie it right this time,” he warned. “You'll run like a lame duck with one shoe on and one off.

Chet did and the boys slipped from the fence across the yard to the lighted window, which was open halfway. Carefully stationing themselves in the darkness to one side of the light, they peered into the room.

A sofa stood against the wall, facing a big sideboard holding a number of decanters. In one corner a roll-top desk was open, revealing a series of pigeonholes filled with documents.

Six men sat around a table. Frank craned his head to get a better look at them. Then he whispered excitedly, “There's Tinted Glasses!”

“And Salty, the friendly sailor who almost killed us with his cargo!” Joe added. “And there's the guy who tried to scare us away from Cutler Ranch!”

One of the men spoke, addressing Tinted Glasses. “I've got to hand it to you, Stiller. Everything's worked out just as you said it would.”

Stiller nodded. “Sure, Bruno. But it would be better if Salty had picked the Hardys off on the dock!”

“I 'd them set up,” Salty declared. “They were lucky to get out of the way when I dropped that bale on them!”

“Well, make sure you carry out your assignments without any slip-ups in the future!”

“Sure I will,” Salty said sullenly. “It's my neck as well as yours, you know.”

“The next job is the most important of all,” Stiller continued. “It's the last one. And everything's riding on it.”

“I'll be glad when it's over,” Bruno declared. “I want to get back to Wisconsin.”

Stiller nodded. “I feel the same way. I'm tired of trailing the Hardys halfway around the world.”

Salty chuckled. “Me, I'm luckier than you Yanks. Australia's 'ome to me.”

Stiller frowned. “Your captain doesn't suspect you, does he?”

“No danger, mate. When you led the ‘ardys down to the docks and tipped me the wink, I just slipped ashore long enough to get 'em off your back and set ‘em up for the kill. All the skipper knows is, I'm an able seaman what knows 'ow to off-load cargo.”

The door from the hall opened and a man and woman came in. The man was burly with long arms and large hands. The woman was short and dark with an intense expression. Both looked pleased as they shut the door.

Stiller addressed the man, “Well, Cutler, have you got the final marching orders for us?”

“I sure have,” Cutler grinned. “I've just been on the phone to Sydney. We're to finish the job tonight!”

“You finally got clearance to dump him in the Outback?” Bruno said. “Good. The desert will take care of him.”

Stiller gave a wolfish grin. “That's right,” he chortled. “It's as lethal as Death Valley back home in California.”

“Dr. Jenson will never see the Firebird fly,” Mrs. Cutler smirked.

“Right. The boss will come here to extract the missing information, then we'll dump him out among the snakes and lizards and leave the sun to finish the job.”

The seedy man from Alice Springs shook his head doubtfully. “I'm not so sure that we'll be home free after the job,” he spoke up. “I don't like the idea of the Hardys being in Alice Springs. I tried to scare them off when they started to get nosy, but we can't be sure it worked.”

Cutler frowned. “Too bad this cowboy had to open his mouth about the ranch,” he muttered.

“Well, they can't come out here to tonight,” the seedy man went on. “I called the car rental agency and they were all out of transportation. But the Hardys just might show up here in a day or two and snoop around.”

“By that time we'll be rid of Jenson,” Stiller assured him. “And we'll destroy any incriminating evidence before tomorrow morning. I agree. We can't be careful enough. These guys are pretty smart. I still don't know how they got out of the Australian Arms Hotel without our seeing them!”

“And what gave them the idea to come to Alice Springs?” Bruno asked. “I know Jenson had no chance to leave word when Jim and I took him out of that fleabag hotel on Wallaby Drive. He was so doped he couldn't have written his own name, even if he had had a piece of paper.”

“Maybe they just guessed,” Bruno suggested.

“I don't know,” Cutler said. “I have a bad feeling about this. Stiller, you'd better burn the lists of clients. The stuff about our previous kidnap-pings and the smuggling job could send us all up for life. Also, for as long as we're still here, we'll post a guard down at the road.”

The Hardys listened outside the window with bated breath. Chet felt a cramp in one of his legs. He turned to place his weight on the other leg, stepped on a twig, and made a slight rustling noise.

Those inside looked in the direction of the sound. “What's going on?” Cutler snarled.

“Maybe someone's outside the window!” Mrs. Cutler cried. “Somebody might be spying on us!”

She rushed across the room to the window, while the boys ducked around the corner in the nick of time. Mrs. Cutler lifted the lamp and thrust it through the opening. Leaning out, she surveyed the area for a minute or two. Finally she pulled her head in, put the lamp down, and said, “Nobody's there. It must have been the wind blowing through the bushes.”

The boys tiptoed back to the window as Cutler turned toward the gang. “What about our new man—the one guarding Jenson?”

“He's okay,” Bruno declared. “I recruited him myself.”

The boys felt their hearts pounding with fear as they listened to the criminals. Frank plucked Joe's and Chet's sleeves and motioned to them to move back from the window. They stopped near the fence where they had sneaked in.

“We've got to help Dr. Jenson!” Frank urged.

“How?” Chet queried. “We don't know where they're holding him. Could be anywhere in the farmhouse from the basement to the attic.”

“We'll have to climb into the house and search it,” Joe suggested.

Frank agreed. “Let's case the place and see if there's a way in. I tell you what. I'll scout the fence and see if there's an escape route. You two circle the ranch house in opposite directions and check the windows and doors. We'll meet here in a few minutes and compare notes.”

“Right,” Joe said. “Come on, Chet.”

The pair went off into the darkness while Frank walked up to the fence and began following the strands of wire to guide himself around the perimeter of the yard. About every twenty-five feet he came to a post, but there was no break in the fence until he reached the gate in front. It was fastened by a chain and a padlock, but no guard was at the gate as yet.

“They must think no one but the gang will ever get out here,” he thought. He continued around the fence to the place where they had sneaked in.

Joe, meanwhile, had gone to the left of the house. His path took him to a cellar door, a sloping wooden oblong obviously covering a small flight of stairs to the basement. Taking hold of the metal handle, Joe strove to lift the door. It was locked!

Farther on he passed a pickup truck and a station wagon. Noting that the keys were in both, he reflected, “These guys must really feel safe. Wouldn't it be something if the crooks' cars were stolen!”

Chet circled the house around the right side. He tried the dark lower windows only to find that they would not move. Then he stepped back for a view of the upper windows, which were inaccessible from the ground. “Not even a corner drain-pipe to climb,” he thought, disappointed.

Moving on, he met Joe sneaking toward him. Consulting in whispers, they decided to join Frank at the fence.

“If we can get Jenson out,” Frank reported, “we'd better make a run for it down the road. Otherwise we could get lost in the desert.”

“We may not be able to get him out,” Chet said. “The ranch is buttoned up.”

“I think the cellar door is our best bet,” Joe stated. “Maybe we can spring the lock while they're all in the front room.”

Frank nodded. “And then we'll have to jump the guy guarding Jenson before he can alert the gang. Let's hope it works!”

The three crept stealthily back to the house, edged around to the cellar door, and tried to wedge it open. Suddenly an uncanny scream made their hair stand on end!

“What's that?” Chet gasped.

A cat raced past, pursued by another. Noisily they vanished into the bushes and the boys breathed in relief.

“Wow!” Frank whispered. “They nearly gave me heart failure!”

The boys started to work on the cellar door once again. Joe took out a small set of pocket tools he carried for such emergencies, slipped the end of a tiny chisel between the edge of the door and the jamb, and levered skillfully until the spring of the lock snapped back. Elated, he began to lift the door.

A sound came from the rear of the ranch house, and Joe immediately eased the cellar door down into place again. The boys sprang up, pressed themselves flat against the wall, and froze as the back door opened.

Cutler came out on the patio. He held a flashlight in his hand and played it over the yard from the fence to the house. Foot by foot the light advanced across the ground to the cellar door. The boys stood stock-still, not daring to move a muscle! Now the beam shone inches from Chet's shoes, moving toward him!

At the last moment it wavered to one side because Mrs. Cutler emerged from the house and joined her husband on the patio. “What was that screeching sound?” she demanded.

“That's what I'm trying to find out,” Cutler replied. He flipped the beam from the ground to the bushes, barely missing Chet's belt buckle.

Suddenly two pairs of eyes gleamed through the bushes and one of the cats began to growl.

“Only a couple of cats,” Cutler informed his wife. “Nothing to worry about.” He snapped the flashlight off and they went back inside.

Chet let out a sigh of relief. “Boy, that was a close call. I thought we were goners for sure!”

“If he'd aimed that flashlight a little higher,” Joe whispered back, “he could have taken our pictures.”

“There's no time to lose,” Frank warned. “Let's make sure they're all in the front room. If one of them is prowling around, we're in trouble.”