In Plane Sight (6 page)

“Come on!” Joe said, sprinting after the plane. Frank and Jamal followed.

The plane spun in tight circles as it skidded in. The other wheel strut broke, and the belly of the aircraft smashed into the ground. The fuselage broke near the tail, and the plane bent in half like a jackknifed semitrailer.

Sparks filled the air, and flames sprang up near the broken tail section. The plane finally skidded to a stop about thirty yards from a row of show planes.

Rescue sirens filled the air as the Hardys and Jamal dashed toward the burning aircraft. The three boys were the first to arrive at the crash scene. The heat from the fire was uncomfortable. The pilot's cabin was intact, but there was no sign of movement inside.

“Give me a hand here!” Frank shouted, peering into the cockpit. The plane's automatic safety system had deployed upon impact, and cream-colored air bags shrouded the compartment. Inside, Amy Chow was groaning. Her helmeted head slumped to one side. “She's alive, but the catch is jammed.” He tried to open the compartment but then pulled his hands away from the lever and shook them. “It's hot too!”

Joe took off his letterman jacket and wrapped it around his hands. Jamal did the same with his leather aviator coat. Jamal grabbed the lever and yanked it hard while Joe seized the edge of the stuck canopy and heaved.

The cockpit hatch flew open. Frank reached in and dragged Amy out of the burning plane. Joe and Jamal took her legs and helped Frank carry her away from the fiery aircraft.

“Bet when she painted the flames on the side of that bird, Amy didn't know it'd be prophetic,” Jamal said as they laid her gently on the dry grass at the edge of the tarmac.

Amy groaned.

“The plane's safety systems probably saved her life,” Joe said.

“Her piloting did too,” Frank added. “I doubt I could have pulled out of a dive like that.”

“Me neither,” Jamal said. “I wonder what went wrong with the plane.”

At that moment Amy's brown eyes flickered open. She glanced around feverishly and tried to stand up. “What happened?” she said. “Where's the
Demon
?”

“Totaled,” Joe replied. “We pulled you out of the wreck.”

“The engine quit, and I lost control,” she said. “I couldn't steer the plane!”

“Take it easy,” Frank said. “An ambulance is on the way.”

Fire and rescue teams, which had been stationed at the field as a safety precaution during the show, arrived moments later. Firefighters began to hose down the remains of the
Screamin' Demon
as emergency medical technicians raced to Amy's side.

“Good work getting her out of that plane,” the lead EMT said to Frank. “We'll take it from here.”

The Hardys and Jamal backed away to give the medical personnel space to work.

“I'm okay,” Amy kept saying. “I'm okay.”

Elise Flaubert arrived shortly after the EMTs. The airport administrator eyed the group of medical technicians gathered around Amy but had the good sense not to interfere. “How is she?” Flaubert asked
the brothers and Jamal. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so,” Frank said.

“She didn't seem too badly hurt,” Joe added. “But there might be internal injuries.”

“What are you going to do to protect these other planes?” shouted a gruff voice. The teens and Flaubert turned and saw Jack Meeker striding across the tarmac toward them. Tony Manetti was following close behind. Neither man looked pleased.

“We need more fire trucks,” Meeker said. “The fire could spread to the other planes near the runway.”

“People have a lot of money tied up in those planes,” Manetti added.

“The rest of the Scottsville Fire Department is already on the way,” Flaubert said. “They've called for assistance from Jewel Ridge too. We're doing everything we can.”

“What about the show?” asked Rock Grissom, striding up to the group. “Some of us need to make a living here.”

Flaubert looked flustered. She glanced nervously around the field to where a handful of police and hired security agents were working to keep people away from the crash scene. “We'll do everything we can to keep the show going,” she said. “The other runways aren't affected. We should be able to continue with the rest of the day's events.”

“Is that wise?” Frank asked.

“Butt out, kid,” Grissom said. “You ain't got a stake in this show, like the rest of us.”

“We'll continue if at all possible,” Flaubert said. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to coordinate with the emergency services.” She turned on her heel and walked back toward the hangars near the administration building. Manetti, Grissom, and Meeker trailed after her, still badgering her and asking questions. Meeker shot a parting sneer at Jamal and the Hardys.

“Nice to see everyone is keeping this in perspective,” Joe said, meaning just the opposite. He, Frank, and Jamal looked toward the chaos on the far side of the field. Attendees and spectators mingled with newly arrived police and fire units.

“I'll be amazed if this isn't the end of the show for the day,” Frank said.

“I dunno,” Joe said. “Never underestimate the power of ambitious people.” He and the others watched as the ambulance carrying Amy left the field.

“Come on,” said Jamal. “We'd better check the Cessna. It'd be just my luck to have one plane stolen and another smashed up by debris or antsy crowds on the same day.”

The boys skirted around the police and fire lines and pushed their way through the milling crowds to the old Hawkins Air Service plane. They were pleased to discover it in one piece.

The same could not be said, however, for all the planes in the area. They overheard several people complaining to the police that their planes had been broken into during the commotion.

The three friends stayed with the Cessna until the crowds thinned out. By midafternoon the blaze consuming the
Screamin' Demon
had been extinguished, and the wreckage of the plane had been carted away. Grounds crews were still working on the north runway, but the other runways were open for business.

Two hours later Elise Flaubert, looking haggard but sporting a smile, announced that the Fly By & Buy would continue with its late-afternoon and evening schedule of events. An investigator from the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) arrived to look into the crash. He gave some orders and went over the scene briefly before cordoning the area off and going to the hospital to speak with Amy Chow.

The news about Amy was encouraging. Reports on the radio confirmed that—miraculously—she hadn't been seriously injured in the crash. The buzz around the airport was that she was intending to return to the show as soon as she could.

“Well, I guess if you need to shop for a new plane,” Joe noted, “this is the place to do it.”

Despite the good news about Amy, the mood at Scott Field remained grim. A number of planes
had been damaged by debris from the crash, and the simultaneous break-ins away from the disaster had many show attendees on edge.

“A lot of pricey custom planes were hit,” the teens overheard Rock Grissom say. “You can bet I'll be keeping both eyes on my aircraft from now on.”

“I wouldn't make too much of this,” Tony Manetti replied. “Most of the custom jobs happened to be parked on that side of the field. A thief would have had to take whatever was available.”

The two men walked away, continuing their conversation in hushed tones.

“Think there's anything to that?” Jamal asked.

“It could be like Manetti said,” Joe replied.

“And it would make sense for thieves to hit the most expensive planes,” said Frank.

“Which leaves our old Cessna out,” Jamal said. “I suppose I should be glad for small favors.”

The Hardys and Jamal took a short break at the campground. Their full schedule during the day so far had left them pretty beat. As the afternoon edged toward evening, they headed back to the show.

“I want to catch this new skydiving custom job that Clevon Brooks is showing,” Joe said.

“His planes are always worth seeing,” Jamal remarked. “He usually comes up with some new twist. The one he's showing today is supposed to have some slick automated features.”

“I wonder if that's the plane he was arguing with Grissom about,” Joe said.

“Could be,” Frank replied. “There's a spot down by the runway near the Cessna that should have a good view.”

The three boys watched appreciatively as Brooks's custom blue-and-gold aircraft with the big hatch on the side rolled out onto the tarmac and headed for the runway.

“That's the plane we looked at on the first day,” Frank commented.

“We'd better hurry if we want to see it take off,” Joe said.

They cut between a couple of parked service vehicles and slid around an unmanned refueling truck.

“When they free up the airspace,” Jamal said, “we should take another pass to look for my stolen plane again.” He rubbed his hand through his short hair. “Man! This whole day has just been unreal!”

“And I think it just got weirder,” Frank said, stopping suddenly.

Lying on the grass between the fuel truck and a parked plane was the body of Clevon Brooks.

7 Trouble in the Skies

Frank knelt beside the prone aviator and felt for a pulse. “He's just unconscious,” he said.

“But if Brooks is here,” Jamal said, kneeling next to Frank, “who's flying his plane?” Both of them glanced to where Brooks's custom aircraft was heading for the runway.

“Let's find out,” Joe said, sprinting toward the taxiing plane.

“Call the cops,” Frank said to Jamal as he rose and dashed after his brother.

The Hardys raced after the moving plane. It turned on the taxiway and headed for the runway. A startled cry rose from the crowd as the brothers sprinted toward the aircraft. Joe and Frank couldn't tell if the person flying the plane heard the shouts
or if he knew the Hardys were chasing him.

Brooks's customized skydiving plane reached the end of the runway and revved its engine for takeoff. Then it began to roll down the aging concrete, gaining speed as it went.

Joe dashed forward and ducked under the tail's horizontal stabilizer, aiming for the rear door on the plane's right side. He knew Frank was right behind him, but the aircraft was picking up speed, and he couldn't wait for his brother to catch up.

The younger Hardy grabbed on to the door handle of the rear hatch. The motion of the plane nearly pulled his arm from its socket, but he held on. The momentum yanked his feet up off the ground, and the toes of his shoes skidded over the patched concrete for a moment.

Joe pulled himself forward and pushed off the ground with his feet. His legs shot out in front of him and dangled wildly in the air for a moment. He twisted and managed to get his feet onto the fiberglass fairing covering one of the rear wheels. He clung there precariously, trying to pull the door open.

Frank sprinted under the tail and toward Joe. He was close now, but the plane's speed was picking up fast. Joe extended his free hand toward Frank, but the elder Hardy was too far away.

The plane lurched slightly as it hit a bump in
the runway, and its wheels left the ground. Joe tightened his grip on the rear cargo door to avoid falling off.

Frank made one final, desperate leap to catch his brother. He came up inches short and fell hard onto the tarmac.

Clevon Brooks's stolen aircraft lifted into the air, taking Joe with it. The younger Hardy clung to the side of the plane, his hands on the door handle and his feet on the wheel cover. As the aircraft climbed higher and higher, he struggled with the door.

Finally, Joe managed to wrest the back door open and, without looking down, pull himself into the rear of the stolen plane.

Panting for breath, he looked up just as a ski-masked figure charged at him.

Frank picked himself up off the concrete. The crowd roared with surprise at the unexpected stunt; they didn't realize it wasn't part of the act. The security guards and police knew, though, and Frank heard their sirens approaching.

He heard something else as well: an airplane prop, getting louder by the second.

Frank turned to see the old Hawkins Cessna barreling down the runway toward him. Jamal was at the yobe and had left the copilot's door open. He motioned for Frank to hop aboard.

The elder Hardy gauged his timing and jumped as the Cessna rolled past. He caught hold of the doorframe and pulled himself into the copilot's chair.

“Buckle up,” Jamal said. “We're going after that guy.”

“Good thinking,” Frank replied, doing as Jamal said. “Where's Brooks?”

“I left him with the EMTs,” Jamal said.

He pulled back on the yobe, and the Cessna 182 flew up into the air.

“Think you can catch Brooks's plane?” Frank asked.