Read What Happened at Midnight Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
What Happened at Midnight (13 page)
The farmer on whose property they had landed stepped up. “My name is Hank Olsen,” he said. “Was anybody injured?”
“No,” Frank replied. “Sorry about the plane coming down on your land.”
“That's all right. I haven't done any planting in that section yet,” the farmer explained.
Weber spoke up. “I'd like to telephone a report of the crash.”
“You can use the phone at my house,” Olsen offered. “I'll drive you there. My pickup truck is just on the other side of the hill.”
When they arrived at the farmhouse, the pilot called the control tower at Bayport field to report the accident. Frank phoned Mrs. Hardy to let her know where he and Joe were, and then got in touch with Chet Morton for a ride home.
“What!” Chet exclaimed in disbelief when he heard about the Hardys' adventure. “Say that again.”
“I said we had to bail out of Weber's biplane,” Frank declared.
Everyone watched the rescue
“Aw, come on,” his chum muttered, unbelieving.
“It's true,” Frank replied. “We need a ride home. Do you think your jalopy would hang together long enough for you to pick us up?”
“Hang together?” Chet retorted. “That's no way to talk about one of the finest pieces of machinery going. Where are you?”
Frank asked the farmer for their exact location. Olsen unfolded a road map and pointed to a spot about ninety miles northeast of Bayport. Frank traced the route with his finger and relayed instructions to his friend.
“Okay! I'm on my way!” Chet answered.
Nearly three hours passed before the Hardys spotted their chum's yellow jalopy bouncing along the narrow road leading to Olsen's house. Weber and the boys thanked the farmer and his wife for their hospitality, then started for Bayport.
As they rode along, the Hardys and Weber discussed their pursuit of Marr's plane. “I wonder if he ran into any trouble,” Joe mused.
“When I called control tower, I asked if they knew about the stretch of fog north of them,” Weber explained. “They did, and said it was only two or three miles across, with clear air on the other side.”
“And since Marr's plane was equipped with radio,” Frank interrupted, “the pilot would have received the latest weather reports. He knew he could fly through the fog bank and be in the clear again within a few minutes.”
“Do you think Marr knew he was being followed?” Joe asked.
“My guess is he didnât,” Weber said. “At least his pilot wasn't attempting any evasive action.”
“Sorry about your plane,” Joe said sympathetically.
“It was a great ship,” Weber declared sadly. “But I have enough parts to rebuild another one. That's some consolation.”
Chet dropped off Weber and the Hardys at Bayport field, where the pilot made arrangements to fly home. After expressing their thanks to him for his help and saying good-by, the boys walked toward their car.
“We'd better call Agent Keith before we go home,” Joe suggested, and they went inside to telephone.
“Too bad Marr got away,” the agent said when Frank told him about their recent adventure. “But I'm glad you and your brother are safe.”
Frank drew a notebook from his pocket and opened it. “I have the registration number of the getaway plane.”
“Good!” Keith said. “Let's have it. I'll check it out with the Federal Aviation Agency.”
Frank gave it and hung up. The boys went to the parking lot. In a moment Frank frowned. “I thought I left our car here.”
“You did,” Joe said with a sinking feeling. “Itâit's been stolen!”
The Hardys were momentarily paralyzed. Not only their fine convertible, but Mr. Wright's highly secret invention was gone!
Frank spoke first. “Come on, Joe! We must call the police.”
The boys ran to the administration building and telephoned. They were told by the sergeant on duty that state troopers had picked up a car fitting the convertible's description. “Will you Hardys go out to the end of Pleasantdale Road and look at it?” the officer requested.
Frank hailed a taxi which took them to the spot, then back to Bayport. The convertible was a sorry sight. Every bit of the upholstery had been slashed and the contents dumped out. Articles had been removed from the front compartment and the trunk. The spare tire had been ripped open.
“Too bad, fellows,” a trooper said.
“Yes,” Frank answered, testing the rack.
It was still bolted in place, but he winked at Joe, a signal he wanted to be alone for a further search. On a pretext Joe got the trooper around to the front of the car. Quickly Frank looked under the tire well. The box and invention were still there
Frank slammed the lid shut. He called out, “Joe, if this baby still runs, let's go home.”
The engine started promptly and the steering mechanism was undamaged. Frank signed a paper for the police, saying he was the owner of the car, then the boys rode off. As soon as they reached home, Joe carried the invention to the boys' room and hid it.
“I'm afraid that next time the gang's going to find this,” he told his brother.
“I agree,” Frank answered. “What say we ask Mother to put it in her safe-deposit box? I'm sure Dad would agree.”
Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude approved this idea and as soon as the bank was open the next morning took the invention downtown. A little later the phone rang. Mrs. Hardy was calling to assure her sons of its safety.
A few moments later Agent Keith telephoned. “We've lost Marr again,” he said. “The FAA looked up the registration number of his plane. It belongs to a fixed base operator at a small airport in Connecticut. Marr's pilot rented the plane for the day.”
“Did the owner see the pilot's flying license?” Frank inquired.
“Yes,” Keith replied. “The name listed was Harold Clark. It's a forgery! Such a license was never issued!”
“What about the plane?”
“It was returned sometime last night. The owner found it tied down on his ramp when he went to the airport early this morning.”
The Hardys were downcast by the situation. Marr had vanished and they did not have the slightest lead on him. Furthermore, their car was a wreck. They reported the damage to the insurance company and waited for an investigator to come.
“We'll have to rent a car while ours is being repaired,” Frank said.
He made the arrangements by phone and within half an hour a car stood in the driveway.
The boys had just sat down to lunch in the dining room when the telephone rang. Aunt Gertrude went to the kitchen to take the call.
“Yes, they're at home,” the others heard her say. Presently she darted into the room. “It's about Mr. Bickford!” she said quietly.
CHAPTER XVIII
Outsmarting the Enemy
MRs. HARDY and her sons lowered their eyes. They were sure Aunt Gertrude was about to announce that the kindly jeweler had died because of Marr's beating.
“Mr. Bickford isâisâ?” Frank asked.
“He wants to see you at the hospital,” his aunt replied.
“Then he's alive!” Joe exclaimed.
“Of course he's alive,” Aunt Gertrude said. “Very weak naturally, so I don't think you boys should stay long.”
“When are we to go?” Frank asked.
“Mr. Bickford got permission for you to come any time. He has something urgent to tell you.”
Curious as to why they were being summoned, Frank and Joe left immediately to see the elderly man. Mr. Bickford was partially propped up in bed. He looked ill, but he gave his visitors a warm smile.
“I'm so glad you came,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “The doctor said a ten-minute visit so I'll get right down to business. Sit down, please. I feel it my duty to warn you boys.”
“Warn us?” Frank asked. “About what?”
“That clerk who slugged me and his pals are determined to get you,” Bickford answered. “Stokeley thought he was in the shop alone, but I came in the back door quietly. He was talking on the phone and seemed to be giving orders.”
Mr. Bickford stopped speaking and closed his eyes. He began to gasp a little. Frank jumped up and pressed a cup of ice water to the man's lips. Mr. Bickford sipped it gratefully.
“Perhaps we should go,” Frank suggested.
“No, no, not yet. This won't take long,” Mr. Bickford insisted, opening his eyes again. “I must tell you. Stokeley was saying, âDon't tell me you couldn't help your bonehead mistakes. Just don't make any more! I want the Hardys on the whaler.'
“Just then Stokeley caught sight of me and hung up the phone. He turned livid, and before I could defend myself, he punched me, kicked, hit me with a stool, and acted like a crazy man. I blacked out and awoke here.” He closed his eyes and shuddered a little.
Frank and Joe stood up, sensing that Mr. Bickford was exhausted and had told all he knew.
“Thanks a lot,” Frank said. “Joe and I are certainly sorry we were the cause of the attack on you.”
“And we'll profit from your warning, you can bet,” Joe added. “Now take care of yourself.”
When Frank and Joe reached home, they at once told their mother and aunt about Mr. Bickford's report. “So you see, Aunt Gertrude,” said Joe, “that man Chris wasn't calling you an old whaler. He was talking about trying to get us boys on their motor whaler.”
“Hmm!” said Aunt Gertrude. “Well, just the same he has very bad manners. Doesn't know how to treat a lady.”
Mrs. Hardy was extremely concerned and said so. “I believe if Joe hadn't been rescued from that cave, those dreadful men would have put him aboard the whaler and taken him far away. Frank would have been next.”
“Exactly,” said Aunt Gertrude, “and I'm sure your father never intended you boys to become so deeply involved in this horrible case. I believe my brother would thank you, Laura, to forbid these boys from any further detective work against such men as Taffy Marr.”
Frank and Joe were fearful their mother might take Aunt Gertrude's advice. After several moments of silence, Mrs. Hardy answered. “Fenton expects his sons to follow through and see justice done. He doesn't want me to pamper them into being cowards. However,” she added, “I expect them to be cautious and alert. Frank and Joe don't deliberately run into trouble.”
The boys were relieved. Each kissed their mother and thanked her for her confidence. Now that the tension was over, Joe grinned and said, “Mother, we should have been born with extra eyes in the back of our heads, so we could see in all directions.”
“You could wear those special spectacles that reflect what's in back of you,” Aunt Gertrude suggested.
“But they don't work at night,” Joe replied, “and that's when most of the sluggings take place.”
The conversation was interrupted by the door-bell. Frank answered and was handed a special-delivery letter.
“It's for you, Mother. From Dad,” he called.
Mrs. Hardy opened the envelope quickly. Presently she said, “Good! Your father's coming home. That will solve a lot of problems.”
She read farther. “But not right away. He and Mr. Wright have to testify against two men suspected of stealing the antique plane.”
“Dad found it?” Joe burst out.
“Yes. Listen to this: âI have good reason to believe the hijackers are part of the gang I've warned the boys about. I'm sure these men have pals who are watching me, tapping my phone, and intercepting radio messages, so I decided to use the mail. In an emergency you can contact me in care of Elmer Hunt, president of the Oceanic Electronic Company, San Francisco.'” The rest of the note was for her personally.
Frank and Joe went upstairs and discussed their next move. Both agreed they should do everything possible to learn where the whaler was moored.
“I guess it wouldn't be too smart to use our Sleuth to hunt down the whaler,” Frank remarked. “We'd be spotted in a moment. And anyway we haven't fixed the horn yet.”
“I don't think it'd be good to take Tony's boat, either,” Joe said. He was referring to their school friend Tony Prito.
“How about arranging with somebody who has a cabin cruiser to help us make a search?” Frank suggested.
Joe's eyes twinkled. “Pretty expensive. How about the tug that nearly rammed you in the fog. Was there a name on it?”
“I'm not sure, Joe. I was pretty busy getting out of the way! But it seems to me I saw the word
Annie
on the side.”
Annie
on the side.”
The boys decided to go to the docks on their motorcycles. These were easier to maneuver and hide than their rented car.
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