The Firebird Rocket (9 page)

They could tell from the relief coloring that the town nestled in the foothills of the Macdonnell Ranges, at a point where a number of streams converged. The illustrations indicated that all around Alice Springs there were homesteads, mines, and cattle ranches.

Ponsley was aghast. “Impossible!” he cried, thumping the table with his fist until the ruby on his finger seemed to be a streak of red in the air. “That town is over a thousand miles from here!”

“A long trip,” Joe agreed.

“Too long!” Ponsley snapped. “You have to stay in Sydney and continue the search for Mike Moran!”

Frank shook his head. “Mike will have to wait,” he said firmly. “Jenson comes first. Besides, Mike said he was leaving town. Chances are he's not in Sydney anyway.”

Ponsley groused and grumbled, but finally gave in. “I'll go with you,” he decided. “I'm not the detective around here. I need you boys to solve my mystery. I'd better stay with you so I can be sure you start looking for Mike the minute you find Jenson.”

“Fair enough,” Frank said and paid the bill. He asked the waitress about the nearest travel bureau, which happened to be around the corner.

The boys were unable to book a scheduled flight for the next day, but the clerk referred them to the pilot of a small private plane, who had just come in to pick up possible fares.

“I belong to the Royal Flying Doctor Service,” the pilot told them. “The RFDS flies doctors, nurses, and medicine over the Outback wherever someone is ill or injured. Planes are the only way to get around quickly in that area.”

“You must be like the bush pilots in Alaska,” Joe surmised. “They cover a lot of territory.”

“Quite similar,” the pilot agreed. “Well, I operate out of Alice Springs and will be flying back there tomorrow morning. I'll be glad to take you.”

“We'll need four seats,” Frank said. “A friend of ours is coming, too.”

“That's okay. I have enough room.”

The boys thanked the man and left the travel agency. “What say we call Chet to tell him the latest news, and then see a few more of the sights on the way back to the hotel?” Frank suggested.

“Good idea,” Joe and Ponsley agreed. They called from a public phone booth, then strolled along the Elizabeth Street shopping area, glancing at items in store windows and enjoying the bustle of the city. They paused at a fishmonger's barrow.

“Anything on the menu from the Great Barrier Reef?” Frank inquired.

“Too far away, mate,” the man laughed. “My fish come from Ulladulla, down south of here. How about some tasty snapper or John Dory? Blimey, you'll find 'em delicious!”

“Okay, you've convinced us.” Joe chuckled.

They all bought fish sandwiches and munched them hungrily. Then they deposited their paper napkins in a trash bin and walked on.

Suddenly Frank spotted someone watching them from the opposite side of the street. The older Hardy boy recognized the man with the beard and the tinted glasses!

“Our shadow from Princeton!” he told his companions.

“The guy who tried to run us down!” Joe exploded. “Let's get him!”

The boys turned and hastened to the corner to cross Elizabeth Street. Ponsley brought up the rear as fast as he could. But the light turned red just as they arrived at the intersection and the flow of traffic compelled them to wait. By the time they got across, they could barely glimpse their quarry almost a block away.

“He's heading toward the waterfrontl” Frank cried.

The Hardys and Ponsley ran after him. A sign, HARBOUR BRIDGE, pointed the way to the busy eight-lane steel span connecting Sydney to the North Shore.

Presently they came to the dock area, where ocean liners and tramp freighters were tied up at the piers to disgorge and take on passengers and cargo. Across the waters of Sydney Cove on their right could be seen the dazzling new opera house, looking like a cluster of pointed white concrete sails.

As the boys slowed to get their bearings, they almost bumped into a sailor who was hurrying in the opposite direction.

“Sorry, mates! I didn't see you coming,” he apologized.

“Did you happen to pass a bearded man with dark glasses?” Frank asked him.

The sailor shoved back his cap and scratched his head. “Don't recall noticing anyone like that,” he replied, “but if you want to come back to me ship for a minute, I'll find out if anyone saw him.”

“That's mighty kind of you, but weren't you going the other way? We don't want to hold you up.”

“That's all right, cobber. I was just going on shore leave. Nothing that urgent.”

Ponsley sat down on a wooden bollard to catch his breath. “I need a breather after all that running,” he said. “You two go on. I'll wait here.”

The boys accompanied the sailor to his freighter, which was moored nearby. On its stern was the name
Sydney Cove.

The sailor grinned. “Recognize that name?”

Frank and Joe shook their heads. “Should we?” the younger Hardy boy asked.

“Maybe not, seeing as ‘ow you're Yanks. But there once was a ship called
Sydney Cove
that sank. Only three 'ands survived to tell the tale. So now some say every ship with that name is jinxed.”

Frank laughed. “We don't believe in jinxes.”

The sailor grinned. “Then you got nothin' to fear. Come on aboard. You can call me Salty, by the way. Everyone else does.”

He led the way up the gangplank to the well deck, where the captain was giving orders to his bosun and deck hands. One of the men was attaching a huge bale to a cargo boom near the open hold.

“What're you doing back aboard, Salty?” the officer bellowed.

“Just ‘elpin' out these two Yanks, sir. They're lookin' for a bearded man with dark glasses. Anyone see 'im go by?”

The skipper and crewmen, who had stopped work, shook their heads. The boys thanked them and left the ship. They saw Ponsley coming toward them across the dock.

“I've seen enough of Sydney,” he declared. “I'm going back to the hotel. Want to share a taxi with me?”

“May as well,” Frank answered. “Looks like we've lost that creep we were chasing.”

As they turned to go, the freighter's cargo boom swung out over the side with a heavy bale in its cargo net. The net opened just above the three and the bale hurtled down on them!

FRANK caught a glimpse of the bale as it tumbled out of the cargo net. “Watch out!” he shouted.

Frank and Joe lunged into Ponsley, pushing him out of the way and knocking him over backwards. The three went down in a tangle of arms and legs as the heavy cargo slammed into the dock a few feet away from them!

The Hardys got up but Ponsley lay still. Joe leaned over and shook him by the shoulders. “Mr. Ponsley, are you all right?” he asked, worried.

Ponsley groaned and stirred feebly.

“He's stunned,” Frank judged. “He'll come around in a minute.”

Salty hurried down the ship's gangplank to join them. “Blimey, I'm sorry!” he panted. “Someone swung the ruddy boom too far out. The net's not supposed to open till the operator presses the button. I don't know what ‘appened. That bale might've 'urt you somethin' terrible!”

“It would have squashed us like beetles,” Frank said. “But we're okay.”

Ponsley sat up and opened his eyes. “Speak for yourself!” he cried. “I can hardly see! Good heavens, I think I'm going blind!”

Joe noticed that Ponsley's spectacles had been knocked off when he fell. The younger Hardy picked up the gold pince-nez, made sure the lenses had not been broken, and placed them back on Ponsley's nose.

“How's that?” he asked.

Ponsley adjusted the glasses with his thumb and forefinger. “Why, I can see again!” he said, relieved.

“We're not hurt, Salty,” Frank told the sailor. “But I don't want to be in the way the next time your cargo net goes haywire.”

Salty nodded and went back to the ship. Since Ponsley was more determined than ever to return to the hotel, they took a taxi to the Australian Arms.

When they stepped into the Hardys' room, they found it empty!

“Where's Chet?” Joe wondered.

“We'd better find out—fast,” Frank replied tensely as he called the hotel desk. The clerk denied any knowledge of Chet's whereabouts. “Perhaps he went out for a newspaper,” the man suggested.

The Hardys and Ponsley waited for an hour to see if Chet would come back, but there was no sign of him. Finally Frank jumped to his feet. “Joe, what if Chet has been kidnapped?”

“A dreadful thought!” Ponsley interjected.

As they considered what to do next, a key scraped in the lock. Somebody was trying to get in without being heard!

“It may be Chet's kidnapper!” Frank whispered.

The Hardys tiptoed across the room and stationed themselves on each side of the door, waiting for it to open.

The knob turned and the door swung inward. The mysterious visitor stealthily entered the room.

“Chet!” Frank and Joe cried in unison.

Their rotund friend closed the door quietly. Placing a finger on his lips, he jerked his head in the direction of the window, and led them over to it. He motioned them to stand back so as not to be seen and pointed to a department store across the street.

Two men were standing in front of it, watching the hotel. Another joined them and pointed at the boys' window. He had a black beard and wore tinted glasses! When a policeman came along, the men pretended to look at the display of clothes behind the glass panels. When he had passed, they resumed their vigil.

Chet tugged Frank's sleeve and drew his friends away from the window. “I noticed them right after you left,” he reported.

“Obviously they stayed here while Tinted Glasses shadowed us through Sydney,” Joe said.

“Maybe we should call the police,” Chet suggested.

Frank shook his head. “They can't arrest these guys just because they're standing down there watching us. Besides, Tinted-Glasses and his partners might not know where Jenson is. Their only job may be to keep us from finding him. If we get tied up in a hassle between these guys and the law, that may be just what they want. It'll keep us from looking for Jenson.”

Turning to Chet, Frank explained the clue they had just received, which pointed to Alice Springs as the next focus of their search.

“Gosh, stop to think of it,” Chet said, “those lookouts may even be trying to find Jenson themselves—by shadowing
us!”

“That's possible.” Frank agreed. “Either way, I think our best bet is to give 'em the slip.”

“How?” asked Joe.

His brother turned back to their chubby pal. “Does the hotel have a rear door?”

“I checked that,” Chet replied. “Two more guys are out there in the alley. They look like they're ready to jump us if we leave.”

“The roof!” Joe said. “Maybe we can try that.”

Chet shook his head. “I went up there. There's a lookout on the opposite building. He's watching the fire escape. And there's no other exit.”

“Then we're trapped!” Ponsley exclaimed.

“We are,” Chet agreed. “But I've worked out an escape route!”

“How?” Frank asked.

“Just grab an overnight bag with a change of clothes and come with me,” Chet said mysteriously. “Hurry up!”

Ponsley went to his room and was back shortly. The boys had each packed a small bag and were ready. Chet motioned them out of the room and locked the door carefully. Then he led the way to the freight elevator. They took it down to the basement, and followed Chet to a storeroom.

A tradesman was lifting empty crates into a truck backed up to the exit.

“These are the friends I told you about,” Chet addressed him. “Since we left our belongings in our room, you know we're not trying to gyp the hotel. We're coming back.”

“Righto,” the man replied. “You paid me. Now I'll carry out my part of the bargain. Get into the truck, all of you, and lie low.”

Chet climbed into the vehicle and edged his way toward the cab. Ponsley came next, then Frank and Joe. They crouched down behind the load of empty crates and the driver slammed the tailgate up. Then he went around to the cab, started the engine, and slowly moved the truck away from the hotel.

Through a crack in the tailgate Frank could see the two men in the alley watching the back door of the hoteL

“We outsmarted them after all!” he said with a chuckle. “They'll be standing there forever!”

The driver took them to George Street, where he stopped and let them off. “This is as far as you go,” he said. “Good-by and good luck!”

The boys jumped out and thanked the man, then the truck sped away.

“I saw the truck coming up to the back door when I was in the basement,” Chet revealed. “I figured the driver might make a deal with me, and he did.”

“Good thinking, Chet,” Joe complimented him.

Chet looked pleased. “What next?” he asked.

After a council of war, they decided to go to the airport and spend the night at a motel. From there, they phoned Inspector Morell and asked him to have the bearded man and his cohorts picked up for questioning. But an hour later Morell called back to report failure. Apparently the crooks had discovered that the Hardy boys and their friends had gotten away, and had abandoned their stakeout of the hotel.