Read The Flickering Torch Mystery Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Flickering Torch Mystery (2 page)
“He's going into Marlin Crag,” Joe observed. “Maybe we can have a little talk with him when we land.”
“I'll talk to him all right!” Chet said, flexing his muscles. “I'll show himâHey, there's the airplane junkyard!”
Excitedly he pointed below to a large enclosed area with piles of plane parts strewn about.
“Okay, Chet, we'll check it out as soon as we're finished at the airport,” Frank promised and radioed the tower for permission to land.
Soon they were in the office of Airport Manager Steve Holmes, a short, slender man with a high forehead. He identified the reckless pilot as Dale Nettleton. “But he's left already,” Holmes added, “so I'm afraid you won't be able to speak to him.”
“Too bad,” Frank said, then changed the subject. “Mr. Holmes, can you give us any information on the Scott and Weiss crashes?”
“Both flights originated in Morrisville, New Jersey. The reason for the accidents must have been bad weather conditions.”
“Where are the wrecks now?”
“I have no idea.”
A man came into the room and was introduced as Bill Zinn, the assistant manager. Of average build, he walked with a rolling gait, and his manner was breezy.
“Why are you interested in those two accidents?” he asked with a quick smile.
“We might be using this airport in the future,” Frank said casually. “So we'd like to know if there's any danger.”
“Like hitting the cliffs,” Joe said.
“No danger at all,” Zinn said affably. “Not if you know how to fly.” He turned and left the office seconds before a teen-age youth entered.
“Hi, Hal,” Holmes greeted him. “We were just speaking about the crashes.” He turned to his visitors. “Boys, this is Hal McGuirk. He's an airport buff and hangs around here all the time.”
“What do you know about the accidents?” Joe asked Hal.
“Really nothing. Except about a week before he crashed, I saw Scott spin down out of an overcast. He pulled up in time, but I wondered what caused it.”
Holmes looked surprised. “Did you tell the FAA investigators?”
Hal shook his head. “Nobody asked me.”
Frank said, “That definitely sounds like instrument trouble.”
“Well, fellows,” Chet pleaded, “let's get on to the airplane junkyard.”
“Okay, flyboy,” Joe said.
“Have you got enough energy to walk over there? It's at least a couple of miles,” Frank teased their chubby friend.
“Oh,” Hal said, “you flew in. I can drive you in my car, if you want.”
“Hey, that's great. Thanks a lot!” Chet grinned.
As the Hardys were saying good-by to the airport manager, Chet, impatient to get to the junkyard, opened the door and strode out. He nearly collided wth Zinn, who mumbled something and hurried off.
When Frank, Joe, and Hal came out of the office, Chet whispered to the Hardys, “That guy Zinn was eavesdropping on us!”
CHAPTER II
Engine Trouble
FRANK and Joe were dumbfounded. As they walked through the lobby, they saw Zinn enter a telephone booth at the other end of the long hall.
“I wonder what he's up to,” Frank mumbled to Joe.
They stopped for a quick sandwich, then continued on to the junkyard. It was located on gently sloping land surrounded by a sheet-metal fence. The place was crammed with fuselages, wings, engines and other parts from planes that had either been wrecked or retired because of old age. In one corner stood a boxlike structure, obviously the office. A giant crane was moving parts from one spot to another.
“Boy, this place is cool!” Chet exulted.
“The owner's name is O. K. Mudd,” Hal said. “Here he comes now.”
Approaching was a thick-set man in work clothes with a bullethead and bushy black brows. His slit eyes took in the visitors with quick movements. Then he flashed a wide smile.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
When Chet expressed an interest in buying airplane parts, Mudd invited them to look around while he went over to talk to the crane operator.
As Chet examined some fuselages, Joe poked through a pile of small engines. Suddenly Joe straightened up and gestured to Frank.
“Know what this is?” he asked, running a finger across the number of an engine.
Frank gasped. “Scott's engine. What do youâ?” He broke off when he saw Mudd approaching.
“Have you found anything that interests you?” he asked. “This engine here's no good, but if you want to look over there, you'll see a few in pretty decent shape.”
He pointed to a corner of the enclosure, where a mound of parts was covered with a heavy tarpaulin. As Frank and Joe walked toward the heap, Chet suddenly screamed, “Watch out!”
The giant crane had swung up over their heads with an airplane wing. The jaws opened, and the wing came hurtling down at the Hardys!
Frank threw himself to one side in a judo roll. Joe lunged in the opposite direction, but slipped in a patch of oil and hit the ground face down. Instinctively he clasped his arms over his head for protection.
The heavy plane wing smashed between the Hardys, sending up a cloud of dust.
Frank got up. “Are you all right, Joe?” he called out.
Chet and Frank pulled Joe shakily to his feet. He flexed the fingers of his left hand before replying, “I got a pretty good bang on the arm from the wing tip, but I'll live.”
They looked around. The crane had stopped. The operator was scowling at them from his cab and Mudd rushed over. “What do you guys mean getting in the way?” he stormed. “You might have been killed!”
The boys were flabbergasted. Joe exclaimed, “It wasn't our fault!” He pointed to the crane. “It was that stupidâ”
The junkyard proprietor flushed angrily. “Don't give me any of your lip, wise guy! Now beat it!”
Frank was suspicious of Mudd's unreasonable behavior, but decided that further argument would be futile.
“Let's go,” he muttered to his companions.
Hal, who had watched the whole thing in a state of frozen shock, led the way back to the car. “I don't know what got into old Mudd,” he said. “He's usually a pretty agreeable guy. He should have apologized instead of yelling at you. If I were you, I'd sue him for negligence!”
“He might have been afraid of just that,” Frank said, “and therefore wanted to shift the blame on us. By the way, what time is it? My watch stopped.”
“Four-thirty,” Joe replied.
“Five oâclock,” Chet said.
“That's funny,” Joe observed. “Mine stopped too!”
“And at the same time as mine,” Frank stated.
“Maybe it was the shock when you hit the ground,” Hal suggested.
“Possible. We'll have to take them to the watchmaker Monday.”
The Hardys thanked Hal. “We'll be back here soon,” Joe said. “See you then.”
“I won't be around for a while,” the boy replied. “Going to California to visit my aunt for two weeks.”
Joe grinned. “Lucky you. Have fun!”
Early Monday morning the Hardys took their electric watches to the jeweler. He examined their interior mechanisms and whistled in disbelief.
“The quartz crystal oscillators have been damaged,” he said. “Have you been fooling around with any radioactive material?”
“Not that we know of,” Frank replied.
“Maybe there was some in that junkyard,” Joe said.
The watchmaker was curious. “What junkyard has fissionable material? That could be quite dangerous.”
Frank evaded the question and said, “Can you fix the watches?”
“Yes. But it will take a couple of weeks.”
He took their names and address promising to send a postcard when the timepieces were ready.
As the Hardys drove home, Joe mulled over the jeweler's theory concerning the cause of the trouble with their watches. “We didn't get much chance to case Mudd's place,” he said. “He could have an atom smasher hidden somewhere for all we know.”
“There's something fishy up in Beemerville,” Frank agreed. “We'd better have another look-see.”
Sam Radley was waiting for them in the house. Fenton Hardy's assistant drew a cassette from his pocket. “I recorded this at Jack Scott's home,” he said. “I got interviews with his wife, son, and daughter. What they said doesn't solve the mystery of Jack's crash, as far as I can tell. Well, you boys might spot something I missed.”
The three adjourned to the Hardys' lab, where Joe placed the cassette in the machine and pressed the “on” button. They could hear Sam asking questions, and the members of Scott's family answering as best they could.
The first side of the tape told about Scott's background. His wife and children insisted he was an honest, hard-working man who enjoyed being a pilot. They stressed his clean flying record, which showed no accidents until his fatal crack-up against the cliff at Marlin Crag.
The tape petered out. Joe turned it over. Mrs. Scott's voice came through. She told about her husband's job.
“Jack flew a taxi service from Morrisville to Marlin Crag.”
“Mrs. Scott, did Jack always carry passengers?” Sam asked.
“No, sometimes he made deliveries.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know, Mr. Radley.”
“Do you have any clues at all?”
“There's only one thing I can think of. Several weeks before his accident Jack received a call. He took it in the hall while the rest of us were in the dining room. He carried on a long conversation, and sounded excited and angry.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about a flickering torch.”
“Did you hear any explanation?”
“No. Jack put the phone down, came over, and closed the door. We couldn't hear any more.”
“Did he mention the subject when he returned to the dining room?”
“No. He seemed upset, though. Obviously didn't want to talk about it. So I didn't ask.”
“Was that like Jack?”
“No, not at all. That's why I remember the incident.”
The tape went dead. “That's it,” Sam declared, snapping off the machine. “What do you make of it?”
“The flickering torch might be the vital clue we need,” Frank said.
“Sure,” Joe added. “Maybe Jack Scott meant a beacon. He might have referred to that oil refinery near Marlin Crag Airport!”
“The high pipe burning gas!” Frank exclaimed. “It's a flickering torch if I ever saw one.”
“Maybe the flame from the pipe lured Scott off course,” Joe said.
Sam agreed. “That's a possibility.”
“But how can we explain Scott's spin out of the overcast at the airport before his accident?” Frank asked. “Oh, I forgot you haven't heard about that, Sam.” Quickly he clued Radley in about Hal McGuirk's observation.
“That's odd,” Sam commented. “An experienced pilot isn't supposed to go into a sudden spin like that.”
“Maybe his gyro horizon conked out,” Joe said. “That would mean big trouble.”
The three probed the problem for a while without finding any solution. Sam promised to investigate the oil refinery before he left, and the boys decided to go ahead with their plan to revisit Mudd's airplane junkyard in Beemerville. They phoned Chet, who agreed to come along.
They got out their Geiger counter, a metal box about as large as a medium-sized dictionary. They made sure it was in working order and stowed it in the trunk of their convertible.
Then they donned special coveralls under their clothes to protect themselves against possible radiation.
“I'll take one for Chet, too, just in case,” Frank said.
Chet Morton was waiting when they arrived at his house. He quickly put on the coverall, then they set out for Beemerville.
“The car makes more sense than the plane on this trip,” Frank said as he kept the convertible wheeling steadily along.
“Better for a quick getaway, too,” Joe noted.
Chet glanced suspiciously at his two pals. “Listen, you guys, if this is a getaway car, don't get away without me!”
Joe grinned. “What's the matter? Getting cold feet?”
Chet pretended to be hurt. “When did I ever get cold feet?” he asked plaintively.
“This is your last chance to quit,” Frank said as he brought the car to a stop in a vacant alley behind the airplane junkyard. “We're headed for enemy country.”
He took the Geiger counter out of the trunk and led the way to the back gate.
“The place seems deserted,” Joe said. “Not even a watchman on duty.”
“Maybe Mudd's in the office,” Frank said and tried the gate handle. “Unlocked. Come on.” He pushed the barrier open and slipped through, closely followed by his companions.
They looked cautiously around. The crane was parked near the office. Frank gestured toward the pile where Joe had discovered the engine to Jack Scott's plane.
“That's our objective,” he said. “Let's not waste any time. No telling when we'll have Mudd's hired hands breathing down our necks. Chet, you and Joe stand guard. I'll make the test as fast as I can.”
Joe and Chet moved off while Frank advanced to the engines. Reading the numbers, he finally spotted the one from Scott's plane.
Gingerly he shifted the Geiger counter close to the engine. The box began to emit a clicking sound. Frank glanced knowingly at Joe and Chet, who were positioned some distance away.
Other books
What I Didn't See by Karen Joy Fowler
The Inner Voice: The Making of a Singer by Fleming, Renee
Saving Sophia by Fleur Hitchcock
Deep Fire Rising - v4 by Jack Du Brull
The Life Intended by Kristin Harmel
A Mighty Purpose by Adam Fifield
Rugged and Relentless by Kelly Hake
Lovers in Their Fashion by Hopkins, S F
Gemini by Chris Owen
The Mistress of Hanover Square by Anne Herries
