The Firebird Rocket (15 page)

Chet eagerly asked as many questions as he could think of and the scientists cooperated goodnaturedly with the boy. Finally, in the late afternoon, the young detectives escorted Dr. Jenson back to their hotel. They had a pleasant dinner, then retired to their rooms. Before going to bed, Frank telephoned Alice Springs again.

“Any clues yet?” he asked the officer in charge.

“We found the helicopter abandoned in the Outback,” was the reply. “It was registered in the name of Bartel. At this point we haven't been able to establish yet whether that's a fictitious name or not. But there's no trace of the gang.”

“I was afraid of that,” Frank said. Slowly he hung up and told Joe what the officer had reported.

“I just hope that dodging the police will take up all the gang's time and attention,” Joe commented. “This way they won't be able to follow us.”

Joe's hopes, however, were dashed the following morning when a loud knock sounded on the door. Dr. Jenson and Chet burst in. The scientist looked pale and shaken, and his hand trembled slightly as he held out a piece of paper to show the boys.

“This was slipped under the door of our room,” he exclaimed. “They're going to kill mel”

FRANK and Joe stared at the message. It was pieced together with letters cut out of a newspaper, a method the crooks had used before, and read: THE FIREBIRD WILL DIE, AND SO WILL YOU!

“They haven't given up,” Joe stormed. “And they know where we are. It looks as if security isn't tight enough, even here at Woomeral”

“Maybe Arthur can help,” Jenson said. Suddenly he sounded tired and depressed.

“Look,” Frank told him, “don't worry about the gang. That's what we're here for.”

Jenson smiled wanly. “Okay, I'll let you worry. Do you think it's safe to go downstairs and have some coffee?”

The group went into the cafeteria, and less than an hour later the official limousine picked them up. They were driven to the rocket range, where they met Young in the laboratory.

He was agitated when he saw the note. “This is unbelievable!” he exploded. “But they won't get away with this. I won't let them!”

“You didn't get a note like this?” Frank inquired.

“No,” Young said, and he turned pale. “Not yet.”

“What are you doing for your own safety?” Joe added.

“I traveled with the two men who guarded me in Princeton,” Young replied, “and we're sharing a room. That, of course, may not discourage the gang from coming after me, too.”

“What are we going to do?” Jenson asked.

“I'll talk to the security people here and arrange for a hideout where the four of you can stay until the gang is captured,” Young replied. “I'll figure out a way we can communicate with each other, and also request closer protection for myself. Just wait here while I make a few phone calls.”

Young disappeared into his office and returned a short time later. “All set,” he declared. “The private pilot who flew me here will take you to a safe place down in Port Augusta. No one will suspect you're there, and the local police will keep an eye on it. Please don't leave until I contact you.”

Soon Jenson and the boys took off, and less than an hour later they landed at the Port Augusta airfield, where a car was waiting. The pilot himself drove them to a hotel on the outskirts of town. He pulled into the rear and backed up closely to the door.

The boys had noticed a large sign out front that read: CAPTAIN COOK'S FLAGSHIP. The ancient three-story building needed a coat of paint, the windows needed washing, and the lawn needed mowing.

“This is not exactly a first-class joint,” Chet commented.

“Why did Professor Young send us to a place like this?” Joe wondered.

“Obviously he thinks no one would look here for an eminent scientist,” Frank suggested.

They went in and found a surly clerk at the desk. He glowered at them as they signed the register, and told them their room was on the third floor.

“The only phone in the hotel is this one on the desk,” he snapped. “You can have sandwiches from the kitchen. Water and ice are in the basement. Take the stairs up, and don't ask me if there's a lift. There isn't.”

“He's about as friendly as that brown snake Ponsley met in the Outback,” Frank said sarcastically as they climbed the stairs. Finding their door number, they entered a dusty room with four cots, and a window that was stuck. Joe and Chet had to force it up by pushing together.

Jenson looked around and sighed. “I hope we don't have to stay here very long.”

“Stiller and his friends might be rounded up at any time.” Frank reassured him. “Then we can leave.”

Joe punched one cot with his fist. “This'll be like camping out in the Bayport Woods,” he grumbled.

Chet clicked his teeth. “I'm thirsty. I'll go get some ice water in the basement.”

He went out, carrying a cracked jug that had been sitting on a small table. Joe locked the door and put the key on the bureau. Frank and Jenson sat down on two cots and discussed the situation, wondering what would come next. Suddenly the floorboards in the hall creaked and footsteps approached.

“I didn't think Chet would be back that fast,” Joe said.

The steps came closer and stopped outside their door. However, the caller did not knock.

“Whoever's out there must be eavesdropping on us!” Jenson whispered nervously.

“Shhh!” Joe warned, putting his finger to his lips. He and Frank tiptoed over to the door. Joe stationed himself flat against the wall next to it, while Frank turned the knob quickly and flung the door open.

Outside stood the desk clerk!

“What's the idea of eavesdropping on us?” Frank demanded.

“Who's eavesdropping? I came up to tell you there's a phone call for Frank and Joe Hardy. You can take it at the desk.”

“Then why didn't you knock?”

“I wanted to make sure no one was around. I was told to be cautious and not to draw attention to this room.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Jenson spoke up. “Arthur doesn't want anyone to know we're here. He's being careful.”

“It's possible,” Joe commented.

The desk clerk glared at them. “I delivered the message,” he grated. “Now I've got other things to do.” He walked out and disappeared down the hall. The Hardys followed him after warning Jenson to lock the door and not to open it for anyone except Chet until they returned.

“This call must be from Professor Young,” Joe said as they descended the stairs. “Maybe the police caught the gang!”

They took the lower stairs two at a time and ran to the desk. The clerk was not in sight and the phone lay on its side off the hook.

Frank lifted the instrument to his ear and Joe stood close enough to listen in. “Hello?” Frank said.

A disguised voice replied, “Listen, Hardy! You and that stupid brother of yours don't seem to have sense enough to save yourselves, much less protect Jenson!”

“Who is this?” Frank demanded.

“The same person who called Joe Hardy at the Sydney airport.”

“What are you calling about now?”

“You all disregarded my warning,” the man retorted. “I gave you a chance to save your necks and you didn't take it. You decided to stay in Australia. All right, now you'll stay permanently. Six feet under!”

The man continued his threats. Frank put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “Joe, do you recognize his voice?”

“It's disguised,” Joe replied. “I don't know him from Adam.”

Frank removed his hand from the telephone and said, “Who's going to make us stay permanently?”

The man hung up without answering and the Hardys stared at one another in puzzlement.

“This means we can't stay here either,” Frank said. “We'd better phone Professor Young!”

Joe called and described the threat. Young was disturbed. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “I'll phone my pilot to go back for you right away. He's still in Port Augusta. All of you had better go to the airfield with him before the gang gets to the hotel!”

“Will do, professor,” Joe said. “See you later.” He and Frank hurried upstairs and knocked on the door of their room. There was no answer. Joe tried the knob and found the door was locked.

“Dr. Jenson!” the Hardys called in unison.

Frank looked grim. “Something's happened. We'll have to break in!”

He kicked the door until a panel splintered under the impact. Reaching through, he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. The room was empty!”

Footsteps in the hall made them whirl around. Chet came in, carrying his jug. “The ice water comes out in a trickle,” he complained. “Say, what have you done to the door?”

“Dr. Jenson is gone!” Frank said. “Did you see him downstairs?”

“Or anybody else?” Joe added.

Chet shook his head. “I was all by my lonesome.”

“There's only one other way out,” Frank said. “Through the window!”

The Hardys rushed over and saw that a sheet had been torn into strips and knotted together to form a rope. One end was tied to a radiator. The other dangled over the windowsill to the ground.

“Dr. Jenson got out through the window!” Frank exclaimed. “We've got to catch him!”

“But why would he do that?” Chet asked.

“I have no idea. All I know is that we must get him!” Frank said. He left a bill on the dresser for the damage to the door, then gripped the improvised rope, and shinned to the ground with the celerity of a squirrel. Joe followed at the same speed, then looked up.

Chet was hesitating.

“Hurry up or stay behind!” Joe urged.

Faced with the choice, Chet climbed down. He got hold of the torn sheet, and squeezed through the window, shutting his eyes tight. He dangled over empty space. “It's a three-story drop,” he quavered.

“Slide down! Let gravity take over,” Joe advised. “You'll make it in no time.”

Chet had almost reached the bottom when one end of the torn sheet snapped. He plummeted down with a loud yell. Frank grabbed his shoulders and Joe caught his legs, and the three ended in a tangle on the ground.

“Good show!” said a familiar voice behind them as they struggled to their feet. The boys froze. It was Stiller! He and his gang had them surrounded! In the background, Salty was guarding Jenson, whose hands were tied.

“We laid a trap,” Stiller smirked, “and the smart Hardys walked right into it!”

Frank realized what had happened. “You guys must have sneaked in the back way before we ever got that call. And somehow you fooled Dr. Jenson into opening the door while your confederate kept us talking down at the hotel desk.”

“That's right.” Stiller gloated. “We pounded on the door and pretended you two had had an accident. When Jenson opened, we grabbed him and left that knotted sheet dangling out the window before we ducked down the back stairs again. One of my men actually climbed down the sheet so he could lock the door from the inside. You fools fell for the trick and plopped right into our arms!”

Jenson and the young detectives were taken to two parked cars. At the wheel of one was the hotel desk clerk!

“So you're in the gang, too,” Frank accused him.

The clerk grinned. “I am now,” he said as the captives were pushed into the cars. “It pays well.”

“Where are you taking us?” Frank asked Bruno, who sat next to him.

“Shut up!” his guard answered and jabbed him viciously in the side with his elbow.

Frank winced in pain and asked no more questions. The cars were driven to an abandoned warehouse several blocks away. It was a five-story building. Most of the windows were broken or boarded up.

The gang marched the captives inside and up a flight of dark stairs to the loft at the top. One man was posted to guard them while his companions left. About an hour later, the other crooks returned with a new prisoner. The boys gasped as they recognized him.

“Professor Young!” they cried out in disbelief.

Dr. Jenson stared at his partner. “Arthur! So they've got you too! How on earth did it happen?”

“A fake phone call right after I talked to Joe,” Young replied. “The caller pretended to be with the Port Augusta police. He said they had a line on the gang and were ready to close in. He wanted me to fly here immediately to help identify them as soon as they were captured. But the person who met me at the airfield when I landed turned out to be my kidnapper.”

“We tricked you as easily as we tricked your friends here,” Stiller sneered at him.

“What are you going to do with us?” Chet asked.

“Finish you off, what else!”

FRANK and Joe looked at each other. Both realized that they would have to fight their way out. Frank counted the gang members that were in the room with them. Stiller, Salty, Bruno, the hotel clerk, and another man that Stiller had called Bartel. “The owner of the helicopter, no doubt,” Frank thought and wondered vaguely where the Cutlers were.

The Hardys knew they had a chance to subdue their adversaries if Young helped. Jenson was handcuffed. With a yell to Joe and Chet, Frank threw himself on the man nearest him. Joe did the same, and Chet, who caught on immediately, flattened Salty with a blow to the chin.