The Firebird Rocket (14 page)

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

BOOK: The Firebird Rocket
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Ponsley was so stiff that he had to be pulled out of the back seat by Chet and the Hardys. “Oh, my aching back!” he complained. “Mike, why did you ever have to come to a place like this?”
“I like this country,” Mike said with a grin. “What do we do next?”
“Fly back to America at once!” Ponsley declared. “Michael, your father can't wait to see you.”
Moran nodded. “And I can't wait to see him and Mom.”
“I'd better fly to Sydney to check in with the Australian authorities and confirm my clearance at Woomera,” Dr. Jenson said.
Frank said, “And I think we should go with you in case the gang tries to kidnap you again. Until they're behind bars, I know Dad would want us to act as your bodyguards, Dr. Jenson.”
The scientist smiled. “I'll be happy to have you. It makes me feel a lot safer.”
On the plane to Sydney, Mike Moran told them about some of his experiences and how he had run out of money and accepted the job Bruno offered him.
“Did you tell him the police were after you?” Frank asked bluntly.
Mike stared at him for a moment. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Bruno said you did.”
“You spoke to him?”
“No. We overheard him saying it.”
“Well, it's not true.”
Frank had doubts but changed the subject. “Now you can help your father in his political campaign,” he suggested.
“I'll be glad to,” Mike said. “After my experiences down under, politics will be a tame game. But that's all right. I don't want to get involved with any more criminals.”
At the Sydney airport, Ponsley and Moran said good-by and went to catch a plane for the United States. The boys accompanied Dr. Jenson to police headquarters and then returned with him to the airport to await a flight to Adelaide, where they would transfer to another plane for the Woomera rocket station.
While they were sitting in the terminal, a voice announced over the loudspeaker: “Call for Joe Hardy! Call for Joe Hardy!”
“Who can that be?” Joe wondered.
“You'll find out when you answer,” Chet said.
After checking with the information desk, Joe went to the designated phone booth and picked up the receiver. “Joe Hardy speaking.”
“Listen, punk,” growled a disguised voice, “you and your brother better get out of Australia! And take your fat friend with you—or all three of you will wind up in the hospital! Or in coffins!”
CHAPTER XVII
Woomera Welcome
JOE started to ask who the speaker was but the phone clicked off at the other end. Replacing the receiver, the boy returned to the others and quickly described the warning call.
“The helicopter gang knew we were with Dr. Jenson,” Chet said. “They could have called ahead of us to alert another member. He may follow us, so we'd better be on our guard.”
Frank nodded thoughtfully. “But do you know what this means? Unless they called their accomplice while they were still in the air, they escaped the police!”
“I'm going to get in touch with the Alice Springs police right away,” Joe said and hurried off to a phone booth. He managed to reach the officer in charge. “Did you capture the Stiller gang?” he asked.
“No such luck. We found the Cutler station abandoned. Obviously other gang members arrived with cars to help evacuate everyone. So far we haven't traced the helicopter or its crew.”
Joe groaned in disappointment. “Any clues in the house?”
“Nothing. It was cleaned out except for some fingerprints. There were a lot of ashes in the fire-place and bits of paper, but nothing conclusive. They obviously burned anything incriminating.”
“And no hint to where they might have gone?”
“None. But we're working on the case and will find out sooner or later.”
Joe thanked the officer and hung up. When he joined his brother and the others, they could tell from the expression on his face that something had gone wrong.
“The Cutler gang escaped?” Frank asked.
“Without a trace. They burned all the evidence and were gone when the police arrived.”
“They must have been prepared even before the helicopter went off to chase us,” Frank muttered.
“Do you think they'll make another attempt to kidnap Dr. Jenson?” Chet asked.
“It's possible. We have to be very careful.”
The scientist turned pale when he heard that his captors were still at large. “I'm glad you fellows are with me,” he said. “And I'll feel better yet once we get to Woomera. The security there is so tight, I doubt that any of the gang could get in.”
His companions nodded, and they kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might be following them. They boarded the plane without noticing anything suspicious.
The plane flew over the desolate terrain of Southern Australia, then made a big circle to the coast over Gulf St. Vincent and into Adelaide for a landing at the airport. There, a message was waiting for Dr. Jenson.
“Professor David Hopkins is here to meet me,” he declared after reading the note.
“Dr. Jenson, who is this professor?” Frank asked. “Do you know him?”
“We can't take chances with strangers,” Joe added.
Jenson laughed. “I've never met him, but I know he's a famous scientist. He's one of the experts I came to Australia to meet. Hopkins works out the astronomical tables for interplanetary probes and will help track the Firebird.”
“The man who is meeting us here could be a phony,” Frank objected.
“Don't worry,” Dr. Jenson assured him. “I know what Hopkins looks like. I've seen several pictures of him.”
“Good,” Frank said. “I'd hate to walk into a trap.”
Jenson led the way to the waiting room, looked around, then waved to a man sitting on a bench. It was obviously Hopkins. Frank was relieved by the gesture.
The scientist was a short-sighted individual wearing steel-rimmed glasses. He came forward and introduced himself.
“Dr. Jenson, the Sydney police informed us that you were coming,” he said. “I couldn't wait to see you, so I flew down to Adelaide. We're all so glad to hear that you survived your ordeal unharmed!”
“So am I,” Jenson said with a smile. He shook Hopkins' hand, introduced the Hardys and Chet, and gave Hopkins a brief rundown on his escape from the Cutler Ranch. “The boys came along as my bodyguards,” he concluded.
“That's a splendid idea in view of the danger,” Hopkins declared emphatically. “Now then. We'll fly to Woomera in an official plane. The station's in the desert, where the rockets can be safely tested.”
The plane was a medium-sized, propeller-driven craft, just large enough for them to squeeze in behind the pilot. After taking off, they headed northwest over Spencer Gulf and Port Augusta into a region of lakes that broke up the arid, sun-bitten terrain of western Australia.
After their long, cramped flight drew to an end, Hopkins pointed out the window and said, “This is the Woomera prohibited area. It's a very large tract of land, absolutely barred to visitors who don't have official permission to enter.”
“I know why,” Chet boasted. “Your rockets are top secret! Space probes! Spy-in-the-sky! All that hardware!”
Hopkins smiled. “You seem to know about this.”
Chet puffed his chest out. “I built a rocket myself and won the high school science competition!”
The Australian smiled again. “Perhaps some day you'll be working here as a scientist.”
Chet looked pleased. “I would—”
“We're about to land,” the pilot interjected. He maneuvered the plane in line with the run-way, set down the wheels, and taxied to the terminal. Hopkins oversaw his companions' clearance by the Woomera security staff, then took them in his car to their hotel.
“This town sprang up overnight,” he said as they drove along. “Even the trees you see were planted. Now we have homes, apartments, swimming pools—everything from a post office to a hospital. We'll go out to the rocket range in the morning,” he added upon drawing up to the curb to let his passengers out.
It was decided that Dr. Jenson would share his room with Chet for security reasons, and the Hardys asked for adjoining quarters. However, the night passed without an incident, and Hopkins picked them up, as promised, early next day.
They drove to the central installation and saw rockets of all sizes at launch sites. Some stood upright, ready to fly into orbit. Others were canted at an angle that would keep them from reaching outer space.
Hopkins took the boys into a building and led them to its main room, which contained rows of sensitive instruments. Scientists and technicians were seated at consoles, checking the readings. “This is the control room,” he said, “and these instruments monitor our rockets.”
A man in a white coat was bending over a telemetry computer. When he heard Hopkins' voice, he straightened up and looked around. The Hardys stared in surprise. He was Professor Young!
“Adrian!” Young exclaimed, stepping over and shaking Jenson's hand. “I'm so glad the Hardys found you! Good job!”
Frank and Joe smiled and Chet looked a little disappointed because he had not been mentioned.
“Well, I want to welcome all of you to Woomera,” Young went on. “I came here to follow the Firebird flight because I was afraid you wouldn't make it!”
“I almost didn't,” Jenson said, and told Young about his experiences since he was last heard from.
Young looked grim. “NASA will do everything to see that your kidnappers are brought to justice. Please give me all the details of your capture.”
He questioned Jenson and the boys very closely for an hour. At the end, he said, “Adrian, I take it you still have no idea why the Stiller gang kidnapped you.”
Jenson shook his head. “I wish I could tell you. But I can't.”
“When Cutler and his men are found, they may talk,” Frank suggested.
“Let's hope so!” Young declared fervently. He invited Jenson to come into his office for a briefing about the Firebird. Then he turned to the boys. “While Dr. Jenson and I are talking, I'll bet I know what you fellows would like to do.”
“I'd like to see a rocket launching!” Chet said.
“I figured that,” Young said with a smile. “You're in luck. There will be one in about five minutes. Come along with me.”
He escorted the boys to a special observation window through which they could see a huge missile poised on its launch pad. Then the two men disappeared while the Hardys and Chet waited expectantly, their eyes glued to the rocket.
The nose cone was painted dark green and the booster was white with the name
Wallaby
on it. A supporting gantry moved back, leaving the rocket standing by itself on the launch pad.
An Australian scientist came up to watch. “You're Americans, aren't you?” he asked.
Frank said they were.
“I thought so from hearing you speak. That rocket is named for a small kangaroo, the wallaby. It will put a weather satellite into orbit.” He stood near them while preparations for the launching continued. At last everything was ready.
“Here we go!” Chet cried. “The countdown!”
A voice intoned the numbers: “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero! Lift off!”
Exhaust gases poured out onto the launch pad in a dense white cloud. The rocket started straight up, slowly at first, then gathered momentum, and increased its speed. Soon it was hurtling through the sky high above the earth.
The scientists and technicians in the control room cheered loudly and the boys joined in.
“That's a beauty!” Joe said enthusiastically. “I hope she makes it into orbit!”
“So far, so good,” reported Frank, who was following the flight through a pair of binoculars offered him by the Australian. “It looks like a perfect flight.”
“I'll show you how perfect,” the Australian said when the rocket had disappeared from view. He took them to a battery of instruments to check the moment the booster rocket fell away and the nose cone continued into orbit.
Young's voice sounded behind them. “Everything is going as planned. The flight is A-okay.”
He and Jenson had come up without being noticed, and stood looking at the instruments over Frank's shoulder.
“It's an important flight for us,” Jenson said. “The data it sends back will be used to plot the flight of the Firebird.”
Everyone in the control room relaxed. They began to discuss the Firebird, its revolutionary nuclear engine, and the path it would take deep into space. Young showed the boys around, introducing them to Australians and Americans responsible for space programs conducted jointly by the two nations.

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