Tagged for Terror (2 page)

"Next time, I get to pick the ride," he said in a raspy voice. "No more of these roller coasters that feel like plane crashes."

Frank managed to smile. "Are you okay?"

Joe nodded. "And I'm not bored anymore, either."

"Everybody out!" the pilot shouted.

Joe opened his seat belt, jumped up, and staggered toward the cockpit. "Is anybody hurt in th — "

"I gave an order!" Mapes barked as he stormed out of the cockpit. He grabbed Joe by the shoulders, spun him around, and shoved him toward the hatch.

"Calm down," Eddings said with cool authority. "You did it, Solomon. You got us down safely."

"My job's not done until everybody's off this plane," Mapes countered.

"So let's get out of here," Frank spoke up. He had already opened the hatch and was standing in the doorway.

A fire fighter poked his head inside and scanned the cabin. "Let's go, folks," he said impatiently.

A paramedic herded them away from the crippled jet as fire fighters doused the plane with fire-retardant foam that reminded Joe of whipped cream being shot from a spray can. The crash had almost ripped off the right wing. A trail of motor oil and metal fragments led back down the runway to the jet engine, which had been torn from the underside of the wing.

Joe realized it was a miracle that no one had been hurt. The paramedics apparently shared his opinion and insisted on giving all four of them a quick checkup before whisking them back to the terminal in an ambulance.

"I'd like to take a look at the landing gear," Frank said as he ambulance pulled away from the wreckage.

Mapes glanced at him. "Why?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Call it curiosity. When I almost get killed, I like to know why."

"Don't worry," Mapes responded. "That plane is my responsibility. I'll make sure the company mechanics go over it from nose to tail. We'll find out what went wrong."

Frank decided not to press Mapes. He could tell that Mapes already suspected that he and his brother were more than just summer help, and Frank didn't want to blow their cover before they got started.

A half hour later Frank and Joe were sitting in Hank Forrester's office. Hank, who was Eddings Air's security chief, was a beefy, red-faced man in his fifties, with thinning salt and pepper hair. Forrester stared at the Hardys across his wide desk before shifting his gaze to Michael Eddings, who was standing.

"I couldn't believe it when you called to tell me last night," the man said sourly. "And I still can't believe it now." He waved his hand at the Hardys. "They're just a couple of kids."

"So are a lot of our baggage handlers," Eddings replied. "They'll blend right in."

"That's right, Mr. Forrester," Joe spoke up. "Nobody will suspect that a couple of teenage luggage jockeys are really private investigators."

Hank Forrester's eyes locked on Joe. "Private investigators?" he snapped. "Where's your license?"

"Settle down, Hank," Eddings said evenly. "The boys are just here to do a little advance work for their father." He shot a warning glance at Joe. "Fenton Hardy will do the real detective work."

Eddings's assurances didn't satisfy the security chief, Frank knew. He didn't have to be a mind reader to guess that Forrester wouldn't have let them within a hundred miles of this case if not for direct orders from his boss.

Forrester reached into a drawer and tossed a large manila envelope on the desk. "Your ID badges and keys for a rental car are in here," he said flatly. "The car is in the employee parking lot. The license number is on a tag on the key ring. Your bags are already in the trunk."

"We reserved a room for you at the Georgia Inn," Eddings added.

Forrester nodded toward a pile of neatly folded clothes resting on a chair by the door. "Those are your uniforms."

Joe cleared his throat. "Uniforms?"

"If you're going to pretend to be a baggage handler," Forrester said, "you'll have to dress like one."

Frank smiled and stood up. "Thanks for all your help, Mr. Forrester. We won't take up any more of your time." He headed for the door and stopped to pick up the two pairs of blue coveralls with the Eddings Air logo on the back.

"You'll be working the morning shift, starting at six A. M. tomorrow," the security chief informed them.

Joe was about to groan when Frank cut him off. "That'll be just fine. We'll be there at six sharp."

Joe kept his mouth shut, got up, and followed his brother out of the office.

"Close the door on your way out," Forrester said to Joe.

The Hardys left the small suite of offices that Eddings Air had in the international concourse and wandered out into the main terminal.

"I get the feeling Forrester isn't going to be of much help to us in this investigation," Joe remarked as they strolled along a wide corridor bustling with people either going somewhere or coming back.

"You can't really blame him," Frank replied. "It won't help his reputation if we solve this case." He stopped and glanced around at the fast-food restaurants, magazine stands, and souvenir shops that turned almost every large airport into a shopping mall. "We don't start work until tomorrow morning," he said, handing Joe his uniform, "but we've been on the case since we left Bayport. Let's find out a little more about this airport." Following signs, they found the escalator that led under the terminal to the subway train that zipped back and forth among the five concourses and the main terminal. The electric train glided quietly to a stop, and the shiny metal doors slid open. The Hardys let the tide - of travelers herd them through the doors into the clean, carpeted train.

"Please move away from the doors and toward the center of the car," a robotic sounding voice said over the intercom.

The doors slid shut, and the train started to roll. "The whole train system is run by computer," Frank told his brother. "No conductors and no engineers."

"No seats, either," Joe observed. As he peered up and down the length of the car, a young woman with short honey blond curls and enormous green eyes caught his attention. She was wearing a blue Eddings Air uniform and seemed to be checking him out.

She smiled and moved closer. "Hi," she said. "How long have you been working for Eddings?"

Joe stared at her, dumbfounded. He and his brother had been in the airport less than an hour, and already a complete stranger knew they were on the case. Joe leaned toward her and whispered, "How did you know?"

She pointed at the coveralls he was carrying. "A dead giveaway," she answered in a hushed tone. "Only guys who work for Eddings Air wear outfits that color blue." Her deep green eyes flashed around the car, and then she leaned closer to Joe. "Why are we whispering?"

Joe smiled with relief. "Oh, I thought you meant—well, never mind what I thought. We just got hired as baggage handlers today."

"We start tomorrow," Frank said, joining the conversation. "I'm Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe."

"I'm Gina Abend," the young woman replied. "I'm a ticket agent. I've only been working for Eddings a few weeks myself."

Her smile widened. "Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't I take you to the employee lounge? You can meet some of your coworkers. I just got off duty."

"Sounds good to me," Joe said eagerly.

Amusement glinted in Frank's eyes. Joe never could resist a pretty girl.

"You go ahead," Frank said. "I'll get our bags and then join you."

Joe stared at his brother. "What do you mean? Our luggage is — "

"Probably collecting cobwebs by now," Frank said, cutting him off pointedly. "We still have picked up our bags right after our flight landed, instead of wandering around the airport like a couple of tourists."

Joe got the message. Frank wanted to check out the baggage claim area. "Okay," he said with a slight nod. "But don't take too long. Meet us in the lounge."

Gina explained where it was located.

The automated train reached the last con - course and then headed back. When it reached the baggage claim area, they all got off. Frank waved goodbye to Joe and Gina and followed the signs to the luggage carousels that carried suitcases, boxes, and bags around in circles on conveyor belts. He made a quick stop in a rest room to slip on his blue coveralls before checking out the carousels that handled the bags from Eddings Air flights.

Only a few bags were on the carousel, and no one was standing around waiting. Frank realized that he had shown up during a lull between flights. He stood off to the side and watched several expensive-looking bags go around and around on the carousel. Nobody touched them.

A glint of silver on one of the bags caught his eye. He stepped closer. There was a diamond-shaped silver tag on the suitcase. He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him, then picked up the suitcase to check the silver tag. It was simply marked: Hartsfield Atlanta, followed by the code: AABB45.

As Frank put the suitcase back on the carousel, he noticed that almost all the bags on the conveyor belt had similar silver tags. He stepped back and waited to see what would happen to the unclaimed baggage.

A chubby, red-haired man in Eddings Air coveralls appeared on a motorized cart. He glanced around nervously, then grabbed all the silver-tagged bags and put them in the back of the cart. As he started to drive off, Frank spotted an empty cart nearby. He sprinted over to it and flashed an ID card at the man standing next to the vehicle. "Sorry," Frank said, quickly jumping into the driver's seat. "I've got to borrow this for a minute." He took off before the man could protest.

The other cart turned into a restricted area of the terminal, where only employees were allowed, and Frank followed. He soon lost sight of the redheaded man because he wasn't familiar with the maze of corridors that confronted him.

"I was so close!" Frank said, banging his hands on the steering wheel.

Frank sighed. He decided to return the cart before heading over to meet Joe. Just then he spotted the cart with the red-haired driver coming out of a storage room. The cart was empty now!

Frank waited until the man was out of sight. Then he slipped out of his cart and raced over to the storage room. To his surprise the knob turned easily. He slipped inside.

The room was pitch-black, and Frank groped at the wall for a minute until he found the light switch. He wasn't surprised by what he saw when the bright lights blazed on overhead. The room was full of luggage. He picked up a smooth, black leather bag engraved with somebody's initials. A diamond-shaped silver tag was tied to the handle.

As Frank leaned over to take a closer look at the tag, a scuffing sound behind him made him freeze. Out of the corner of his eye Frank caught a glimpse of a shadow creeping up on him. He spun around to face the intruder and something exploded in his head. A blinding orange starburst blotted out the harsh overhead lights as the world went black.

JOE WASN'T surprised that at two in the afternoon the Eddings employee lounge was nearly empty. Two young men, both in blue coveralls, were sitting at a table in the corner. They stopped talking and turned to look at Joe when he walked in with Gina.

"Hey, Gina," one of them said. "Got a new boyfriend?"

"Guys, I want you to meet Joe Hardy," Gina responded, ignoring the comment. "He'll be working with you. Joe, this is Danny Minifee."

"Glad to meet you, Joe," Danny said, standing and shaking hands with Joe.

Joe took a quick impression of the stocky, deeply tanned young man. He guessed Danny was about nineteen, only a couple of years older than Joe. He had sandy-colored curly hair, wide brown eyes, and a broad, friendly face. He spoke with a deep southern drawl, the first Joe had heard in Atlanta.

"I'm Ted Nance," the other guy said. "Welcome aboard. The hours are bad, the pay is low, and the work is tedious. Other than that, this is a great place to work."

Ted was slim, dark-haired, and about the same age as Danny. Joe wouldn't have called him aloof, but there was something in Ted's tone that made Joe feel as if there was some inside joke that only Ted knew about.

"Danny and Ted are both baggage handlers," Gina told Joe. "Maybe they can give you a few tips."

"Sure," Ted responded. "Find another job. That's the best tip I can think of."

"Don't pay any attention to him," Danny drawled. "He doesn't complain on payday."

Ted shrugged. "It's a job. If you work the morning shift like we do, you get off by two. Then you have the whole afternoon and half the night to do whatever you want."

"What about sleep?" Joe responded.

Gina laughed. "Ted usually does that at work."

Ted put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "That's because I have to party for both me and Danny. When Danny isn't hauling suitcases, he's going to college or studying. This boy is going to be a doctor someday." His voice took on a heavy, solemn tone. "And after years of selfless dedication to learning the healing arts, he'll return to the poor but honest farming community where he was raised and tend to the needs of the sick, both human and livestock, finding a cure for cancer in his spare time."

Danny's broad face reddened, but he took the teasing with good nature. "Meanwhile Ted will stop goofing off," he said, "buckle down, and take over his father's financial empire."

"If I decide to buckle down and do anything at all," Ted replied. "For now, my father has sentenced me to hard labor while I think about what I want to do."

"The big question in my mind," Joe said, matching Ted's joking tone, "is whether we get to keep unclaimed baggage as a fringe benefit."

Danny's smile faltered.

Ted chuckled as he stood up and stretched lazily. "I'd keep that idea to myself if I were you. Management frowns on that sort of thing."

Danny got up a little stiffly. "We'd better get back to work or we'll be late."

Ted glanced at the clock on the wall and said: "I don't know why I agreed to work overtime today." He started to follow Danny out of the lounge. "Oh, now I remember," he called back over his shoulder. "We get paid time and a half for overtime."

"They're such opposite types," Joe observed after the two had walked away. "I'm surprised they're friends."