The Great Airport Mystery (2 page)

CHAPTER II

“WHO are you?” Frank demanded. He snapped on his flashlight and directed the beam toward the mysterious figure. He was not the man who had set the flare.

“Drop that light!” the stranger ordered gruffly.

Frank tossed the flashlight to the ground. The man then played a bright light of his own on the Hardys' faces and slowly stepped toward them. As he approached, the boys could see that he was armed with a double-barreled shotgun.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

“Our car turned over,” Frank began, “and we're looking for—”

“What's that you say?” the man shouted, cocking an ear toward Frank. “Speak louder!”

“I said our car turned over,” Frank shouted, “and we are—”

“Your car turned over?” the stranger interrupted. “How did that happen?”

“The wheel of an airplane struck the roof.”

“Airplane? What airplane? Speak louder!”

The stranger was apparently so hard of hearing he had not heard the noise. On the other hand, the boys wondered if he could be connected with the mysterious events that had occurred earlier and was bluffing. They decided to force the issue. Frank told him briefly about the roadblock, the red flare, and the low-flying plane. He also mentioned seeing a man run off the road into the woods, and said that later they had thought they were being shot at.

“You're both crazy,” the stranger sneered. “I didn't see any airplane or red flare.”

He then motioned with his flashlight for the boys to walk on past him. “You'd better get out of here right now, if you know what's good for you! You're on private property!”

“We didn't notice any fences or signs around here,” Joe retorted.

“I don't care what you didn't notice!” the man shouted. “Get going!”

As the boys walked past him, they managed to catch a closer glimpse of his face. They saw that he was middle-aged, and pale and haggard.

Frank asked that he and Joe be allowed to find a couple of poles. The stranger hesitated, then gave permission.

Frank and Joe soon located several fallen saplings. They picked two of the strongest and dragged them to the car. They then positioned the saplings under the convertible and pushed against them with all their strength. At first it seemed hopeless, but after another powerful lunge, the car began to move, then shivered to an upright position.

The brothers stopped for a moment to catch their breath. They noticed that the stranger was watching them from the edge of the woods.

“Get going!” he yelled angrily.

Frank tugged at the jammed door on the driver's side. Finally it opened. The boys got in and Frank turned the ignition key. After a few seconds the engine came to life. Except for the draining off of some fuel and oil, the car seemed to be in safe-driving condition. Frank maneuvered it carefully for a few minutes, then gathered speed and set off for home.

“Wow!” Joe sighed. “I like excitement, but tonight was enough to last me for a month.”

Trying to find some answers to all that had happened, the brothers discussed the mystery, but were unable to arrive at any conclusions. As they got closer to home, their thoughts shifted to the telephone call from their father. What could the case be? Their faces lit up in anticipation.

Nearly three hours later the boys reached Bayport, where they lived. As they entered the living room of the Hardy house, their mother greeted them. She was an attractive, slender woman, who tried to take the adventurous life of her family philosophically. Mrs. Hardy could not help worrying, however, over the dangers she knew they must encounter.

“Hello, sons,” she said in a relieved voice.

“Hello, Mother,” the boys answered, and Frank added, “Sorry to be so long driving back, but we took a short cut that turned out to be time consuming.”

“My goodness, what happened to you two?” she asked in alarm as they bent down to kiss her. She pulled them closer to a lamp. Joe had a large swelling near his temple, Frank an ugly bruise under his left eye.

Mrs. Hardy wanted to call the doctor, but the boys assured her that their injuries were not serious. In order not to upset her further, Frank said they had been bruised when he had stopped the car short.

Miss Gertrude Hardy, sister of the boys' father, entered the room. She was a tall woman who secretly adored her nephews but constantly scolded them for not being cautious enough in their sleuthing. Occasionally her dire predictions of danger came true! At seeing their injuries, she immediately said, “Ice packs for both of you!”

“Please, Aunty, not until we talk to Dad,” Frank pleaded.

The brothers hurried to their father's study. Mr. Hardy looked up as they entered.

“Hello, boys,” he said. “Glad to see you back. Sorry I had to break up your visit.” Noticing their injuries, he asked, “What happened?”

Joe told Mr. Hardy about their adventure while Frank began to hunt through the identification files. Several minutes later he held up a card.

“I found it!” he exclaimed. “Joe, I'm sure this is the man with the flare who ran into the woods!”

Joe looked at the photograph mounted on the card. “You're right!”

Frank handed the card to his father. Mr. Hardy took it and leaned back in his chair. He was a handsome, athletic-looking man.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “I seem to remember this man. He's an ex-convict known only by the name of Bush Barney—no aliases. He served a three-year term for robbery.”

“I wonder,” said Joe, “if there's some connection between Bush Barney and that airplane we saw. Could the pilot have been dropping stolen merchandise to him?”

“It's a possibility,” Frank replied. He reached for the telephone and began dialing a number. “I'm going to check with the control tower at Bayport Airport to see if they know of any aircraft that is overdue.”

Frank identified himself to the tower operator on duty, then questioned him. He was told that all flight plans to and from Bayport had been properly closed. The tower operator also said that transient aircraft, as well as those permanently based on the field, had been accounted for. Frank hung up, disappointed that he had not uncovered a lead.

Meanwhile, Mr. Hardy had been jotting down a few notes on Bush Barney. “Perhaps,” he said, “the incidents you have told me may be linked to a new case I have coming up. That's why I asked you boys to come back.”

Mr. Hardy stated that earlier in the day he had received a visit from a Mr. Albert Allen, president of the Stanwide Mining Equipment Company. The plant was located on the north edge of Bayport Airport, and manufactured mechanical and electronic tools and other equipment for the mining industry.

Mr. Allen had told the detective he was certain he had unearthed a racket within his company. He had been getting complaints from customers about shortages in orders. In each instance, a typed note had been enclosed in the shipment promising that the shortage would be made up at a later date. But the promise had never been kept, the customers said, and they needed the material.

“What sort of material have the shortages involved?” Frank asked.

“Mostly small, but expensive, components,” his father answered. “Especially electronic parts with a high platinum content.”

Mr. Allen, the detective continued, had ordered an examination of the company's books. Everything had tallied.

Recently he had had a meeting with a Mr. Cosgrove, whose firm was one of Stanwide's largest customers. Mr. Cosgrove had threatened to sever business relations with Stanwide because of the shortages. The publicity resulting from such a move could be extremely damaging to Stanwide, Mr. Hardy said—even more damaging than the loss in orders.

“It sounds like an interesting case,” said Joe. “When do we begin?”

“Tomorrow,” Mr. Hardy said. “First we're going to stop at the doctor's office and have him check those bruises of yours. Then we'll drive out to Stanwide to meet Mr. Allen. I'm arranging to have you boys pose as company employees.”

“Employees?” queried Frank.

“Yes,” his father answered. “Actually, you are going to be doing a factory investigation job.”

CHAPTER III

THE next morning, after the doctor had assured Mr. Hardy that the boys were fit, the detective and his two sons proceeded to the Stanwide Mining Equipment Company for a meeting with Mr. Allen. Soon they were being ushered into a spacious, paneled office.

A graying, distinguished-looking man arose from behind a desk and extended his hand in greeting. Mr. Hardy introduced Frank and Joe. After handshakes Mr. Allen gestured for all of them to take chairs.

The tall executive studied the boys for a moment, then glanced at Mr. Hardy. “I've already made arrangements for your sons to be hired as summer employees of our firm.”

“Good,” Mr. Hardy answered. “I'm convinced that this is the only way the case will be solved—by someone working on the inside.”

“Our posing as employees,” Frank spoke up, “will allow Joe and me to investigate without anyone becoming suspicious.”

“I hate to think that any of my employees may be mixed up in this,” Mr. Allen said with a sigh. “However, I'll do anything to help clear up the mystery.”

“Dad tells us that most of the shortages are of parts that contain platinum,” Joe remarked.

“That's correct,” replied Mr. Allen. “It's understandable, too, for they would be the most valuable.”

“Where do you obtain your platinum?” Frank queried.

“We purchase it in large quantities from a firm in Canada.”

As they discussed the case, Mr. Allen noticed the brothers glancing at a strange voodoo figurine mounted on the wall.

“I see you boys are interested in my little curio,” he said.

“Yes, we are,” Frank admitted.

“The figurine is more to me than just an ornament,” Mr. Allen said sadly. “It is also a reminder of a tragedy that occurred several months ago.”

The Hardys listened intently as he related the story. His firm owned a subsidiary company known as Stanwide Research and Development Laboratories. Its function was to conduct exploratory mining work in various parts of the world.

Recently, an expedition had been sent in one of the firm's aircraft to Ile de la Mer, a small uninhabited island far out in the Caribbean. During the return trip the plane had developed engine trouble and crashed into the sea. Only the copilot, Lance Peterson, had survived. The pilot, Clint Hill, and three mineralogists had gone down in the sinking aircraft. Lance Peterson was now chief pilot for the company.

“I considered Clint Hill not only a loyal employee,” said Mr. Allen, “but also a close friend. It was Clint who sent me the figurine. I was shocked and grieved when he was lost.”

Mr. Allen sat silent for a few seconds, then came back to the case at hand.

“Now, about your employment,” he said to the boys. “Your father asked me to select jobs that would give you as much freedom to roam around the plant as possible. I think an assignment as plant messengers would fill the bill.”

“That's perfect,” Mr. Hardy agreed.

Mr. Allen asked the boys when they would like to start.

“How about tomorrow?” Frank suggested. “The sooner the better.”

Mr. Hardy informed his sons that right now he and Mr. Allen were going .to examine the firm's employee files for possible suspects. He suggested that in the meantime Frank and Joe become acquainted with the layout of the plant.

Mr. Allen had one of his office clerks take the young detectives on a brief tour of Stanwide. Then they were introduced to Art Rodax, the man who was to be their boss. Rodax was heavy-set, with thinning hair and a sour-faced, belligerent expression. He seemed to develop an immediate dislike for the two new employees.

“Factory messengers, eh?” he blurted. “I don't need any more help.”

“But we've already been hired,” said Joe. “We start tomorrow morning.”

“Then I guess there's nothing I can do about it,” Rodax growled. “But let me catch you lying down on the job just once and you won't last a day.”

He was still grumbling when the boys left to return to Mr. Allen's office.

“Boy!” Joe exploded. “I'm sure glad we aren't really going to be working for that sourball.”

“Me too,” said Frank. “He'd make a starving man lose his appetite!”

Mr. Hardy told the boys that his examination of the employee files would take longer than expected. Since Mr. Allen had offered to drive him home later, he suggested that his sons take the car and go now.

“When I get home I'll let you know if I find out anything,” the detective promised.

“Okay, Dad,” said Frank. “Joe and I want to stop at the airport on the way back to double-check with Lou at the tower on all of last night's flights.”

Light rain was falling, and a heavy prefrontal fog was beginning to move in as the Hardys arrived at the field. They walked to the tower and climbed the winding steps to the top.

As they entered the control room, Lou Diamond, the tower chief, waved a greeting. A short, stocky, good-natured man, with crew-cut red hair, he nevertheless had an air of authority.

“You boys picked a fine day to pay us a visit,” he said with a laugh. “In a little while that fog will be so thick you can walk on it.”

The Hardys peered through the tinted panes of glass enclosing the control room. Already the ramp area immediately below was vanishing in a milky fog.