Hostages of Hate (12 page)

A low groan went through the group of passengers.

"Wait a second! What's that noise?" asked Mrs. Thayer, shushing everyone.

They all listened intently. There it came again—a clunk, a rasping sound that grew into a loud grinding noise. The whole plane began to shake wildly. Then the whine of the jets died away. The airliner coasted along until it came to a stop, about two-thirds of the way down the runway.

"There's smoke coming from one of the engines," Professor Beemis reported, craning his neck out the window. "And the most unbelievable trail of garbage you ever saw, stretched out behind us."

The passengers whistled and cheered. From the distance came the sound of sirens as police cars raced to barricade the runway. The airport's fire engines and crash trucks came roaring up, too.

"They gave it their best shot, but we beat them," Callie said. "We've won!"

"Not so fast!" a voice called from the first-class area. It was the Dutchman. "I have something you should see. Will you allow me into your cabin?"

"What's up, pal?" called Joe. "You want to surrender?"

"Let us just say I want to end this," the Dutchman shouted back. "I promise, no gun play. Here." A harsh black shape came flying through the doorway, clattering to the floor. Lars's Uzi.

"We've got Habib's gun, and the Dutchman is clean," Joe said. "Unless Lars is toting a pistol in his back pocket."

He shrugged. "We'll be ready for him." Stepping back and well to the side, Joe aimed his machine gun to cover the door.

"Okay, Dutchman," Frank yelled. "Come on in."

The pudgy figure of the head terrorist appeared in the doorway. "Wrecking the engines to ruin our escape." He shook his head. "I would never have thought of that. I'm afraid you've destroyed an International Airways plane, however." The Dutchman shrugged his shoulders, lifting up the briefcase he held in his right hand.

"Why don't you put that case down?" Frank said. "I want to see what you've got hidden in your other hand."

"Oh, gladly," said the Dutchman. He put the case down at his feet. In his left hand he held— Frank's detonator.

"This is the bomb we brought aboard. And I think you know what I have in my hand." The terrorist's voice was almost gentle, as if he were lecturing on a minor subject.

"You thought you were so smart, trading your detonator for ours." Now the Dutchman's voice hardened. "Using a different frequency to set your bomb off. You were too smart. Lars and I built a new detonating charge, using the plastique you crammed into my mouth. I won't be captured and made a fool of."

He raised his hand, his thumb poised over the blasting button. "You see, it doesn't matter that you destroyed this plane. Because I will finish the job."

CALLIE THREW HER arms around Frank, holding him close. They were just too far away to do anything.

Joe Hardy threw away his gun and hurtled himself at the Dutchman.

"Fool!" sneered the terrorist. He pressed the button on his detonator.

Nothing happened.

The Dutchman gawked at his hand. He pressed the button twice more — three times. Then he went for the briefcase bomb.

But Joe was standing in front of him. "You were pretty brave with that bomb at your feet. Ready to blow us all to kingdom come. Let's see how well you do with these bombs." He raised his fists.

"Now this one I call the Big Bang — " He rammed his left fist into the Dutchman's paunch. The terrorist gasped and folded in half, still clicking away with the detonator.

"And this one I call the Big Boom. Now I'm going to lower it on you." Joe brought his right fist down on top of the Dutchman's head. The terrorist crashed to the floor.

"All right, Joe, that's enough. He's lost it all, and he knows it. Let it go at that." Frank came down the aisle to join his younger brother.

"Uh-uh," said Joe. He reached for the briefcase. "I'm going to open this and feed him every flavor of plastique that's in there. And I'll make sure he swallows it all."

"No way." Frank put his foot on top of the case. "For all we know, they may have a booby-trap set in this so it explodes if it's opened. Leave him for the cops."

Callie stood beside Frank. "That was really something," she said to Joe. "Jumping him like that. It's almost as if you knew the bomb wouldn't go off."

"Well," said Joe, trying to look modest and heroic.

Frank laughed. "He did know the bomb wouldn't go off. So did I. Right after the Dutchman said he had used the plastique we'd stuck in his mouth to make the detonating charge."

"What?" Callie whirled around.

"Come on, Callie." Frank grinned. "Where were we going to find any plastic explosive?

Frank did have a little CN stuck to his hand after our fight with Lonnie, this crew's bomb maker. But not enough to do anything useful."

"Sure, it was useful," Joe cut in. "I was able to match the exact same color and texture with the modeling clay I bought when you sent me out."

"M - m - modeling clay?" Callie sputtered.

"Yeah. Looked like CN, felt like CN — 'Course, it didn't taste like CN. But then, I guess our friend here never tried nibbling on any of his bombs."

Callie was still in shock. "You mean, you had him thinking it was a bomb, and all along it was modeling clay in his mouth?"

"You got it." Frank's eyes twinkled as he grinned.

The Dutchman made a strangling sound down on the floor.

"Sounds like he's still got it," said Joe. "Maybe he's got some caught on his tonsils." He went over and picked up his gun. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to visit our friend Lars."

Apparently, Lars had lost all his fight when the big explosion failed to come. Moments later, they could hear Joe's voice over the last remaining loudspeakers. "This is your honorary captain speaking. The last terrorist has surrendered, and I've just spoken with the police. They're moving a set of passenger stairs up to the front hatch.

Why don't you start lining up to get off this crate?" He laughed. "At least there won't be much in the way of luggage!"

The passengers burst into excited chatter at the thought of finally escaping from the plane. Mrs. Thayer started trying to pat her hair into order.

Pauline Fox stopped beside Callie and Frank. "I want to thank you, kids. First for saving my life. And second for giving me the story of my career! Wait till I catch up with my camera crew. If this doesn't win me an award — " She shook their hands and joined the line.

As the passengers started filing forward, several stopped to thank the kids. "I don't even know your names, and you saved us all," one woman said.

"We all worked together to save ourselves. If you hadn't helped stop those engines ... " Frank smiled and shook his head.

"Well, won't you at least go out ahead of us?" another passenger asked.

Again, Frank shook his head. "I think the cops might get nervous if they saw anybody coming out of the plane with a machine gun. Besides, we still have these goons to guard."

"We'll take care of them," a voice from behind him said.

Frank turned around to find Roger O'Neill clambering through the escape hatch. "We set up a ladder back here," the government man explained. He moved a little stiffly, as if he had a bad set of bruises.

A crew of policemen followed O'Neill. And after them came Fenton Hardy, with a look of fury on his face.

"Uh - oh," Frank heard Joe whisper as he came to turn Lars over to the cops. "We're in trouble now."

Fenton Hardy crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at his sons. "It's not enough that you run off like a pair of vigilantes when my back is turned. But then, after I specifically ordered you — "

"They did save us, Mr. Hardy," Callie said, cutting in desperately. "They saved everybody on the plane."

"I can understand your gratitude to these two," Fenton Hardy said to her. "What I can't understand is how they expected — "

"Actually, Fenton, if you're going to blame anyone, it should be me." Agent O'Neill looked as if saying those words hurt him even more than his bruises. "I recruited them after we left the Hole - in - the - Wall. Because so many of the ANWO terrorists were young people, I thought they might be able to infiltrate the group. Everything they did — everything — was under my orders."

Frank and Joe stared at the Espionage Resources agent. Why was he lying to get them off the hook? Frank had been expecting O'Neill to have them thrown in jail.

Then the answer appeared from the crowd of cops behind O'Neill. A man in an airport security guard's uniform turned around. He was an ordinary sort, the kind of guy who disappears in a crowd. But this guy winked at the Hardys.

It was the Gray Man.

Frank and Joe immediately got the message. A little more interagency politics, a deal cut between Espionage Resources and the Network. And, although Espionage Resources might get the credit on TV, the Hardys suspected that the people who counted would know that Network agents had really gotten the job done.

"Actually," Frank said to O'Neill, "I hope you can keep our names out of this. We worked under your orders, so you should really be the hero."

"Oh," said O'Neill. "Urn. Well, I suppose we can arrange something like that." He began to smile. "I will need a final report, though, before we go public with the story of the rescue."

"Sure," said Frank. "And there's one other person to be picked up." He gave the address of the house near Sheridan Circle. "There's a girl tied up in the living room — Olympia Morrison. She was our contact to the Dutchman."

"Good, good. Fine. Where is our press officer?" O'Neill asked.

"I guess I owe you boys an apology," Fenton Hardy said. "Your actions are much more understandable now that I know you were working with Agent O'Neill." He glared at the government man. "You might have told me."

"Sorry, Fenton," said O'Neill, lying desperately. "It was on a need-to-know basis only. You might have tried to get involved. We couldn't risk it."

"Well," said Fenton Hardy. "I want you boys to promise me one thing. You won't do any more work for these people. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad," the Hardys promised. "We won't do any work for Espionage Resources."

The Gray Man smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

"Now, what's all this about a girl?" Callie wanted to know.

"Oh, it was terrible, Callie," Joe said. "We both tried to romance this girl to find out where the secret headquarters was. And I — " He hung his head. "I struck out. She wanted nothing to do with me. She wanted a dashing man of action— like Frank here."

"Oh yeah?" Callie's hands were on her hips.

"It's not the way it sounds," Frank said, beginning to explain.

"Really?" said Callie.

"I told you," Joe said with a grin. "You should have stuck with Pia and quit while you were ahead."

He quickly retreated as Callie glared at him.

Frank and Callie stood staring at each other in the now-empty plane.

"You know," Callie finally said, "sometimes you can be a real jerk."

"There was nothing going on with Pia," Frank said. "She wound up trying to shoot me—twice."

"I know that," Callie said. "I was wondering how long you were going to wait before you kissed me."

Frank didn't need a second invitation.

Moments later, they headed out of the plane together, laughing.

"Remind me to rescue you more often," Frank said.

"Don't hold your breath," Callie retorted. "After this adventure, I just want a good long rest."

"The seminar will be over soon," Frank said. "Then we'll hop a plane home — "

"No way!" Callie cut him off. "You can come along with me if you want, but I'm telling you right now, I'm going home by bus."

Frank shrugged. "Okay, Greyhound, here we come. But if somebody wants to take the bus to Havana - "

The End.