In Plane Sight (7 page)

Jamal shrugged. “Depends on how skilled the pilot flying it is. We've got a chance, though.”

Frank and Jamal watched as Joe pulled himself inside Brook's plane. Frank let out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe Joe will be able to take the guy out,” Jamal said.

“Let's hope so,” Frank replied. “Then maybe we can find your plane and wrap this case up.”

“You think there's a connection between Brooks's plane being stolen and ours being stolen?”

Frank nodded. “Clearly something strange is going on at Scott Field. We've had a break-in, two stolen planes, a fist fight, and a crash, all within a day. The question is: What's the connection between all this?”

Joe got to his feet just in time; the masked thief was trying to push him out of the open door. Joe dodged out of the way and yanked the door shut behind him.

The thief clouted Joe on the jaw and forced him to reel back. His head hit the wood paneling on the rear bulkhead. Lights flashed before his eyes, but he recovered in time to block the masked man's follow-up blow.

Joe hammered his fist into the guy's belly. The thief swung as he doubled over, but Joe sidestepped past the blow.

The interior of Brooks's plane had an open floor plan. There were two doors in the rear: the cargo hatch that Joe had come through and a wide door on the opposite side of the plane. The stowage rack opposite the big door had several parachutes in it.

Six leather seats, similar to those in the stolen Hawkins plane, lined both walls. Two wood-paneled partitions separated the pilot from the rear of the plane. Joe saw someone moving beyond the partitions but couldn't get a good look at who it was.

“So, there are two of you,” Joe said to the winded thief.

The bandit didn't reply but came at Joe again. He threw a haymaker at Joe's head. The younger Hardy ducked and counterpunched, landing a one, two combination on the thief's jaw. The criminal staggered back into the rack of parachutes.

Joe smiled and stepped toward the stunned enemy.

Suddenly the plane dipped to the side, and Joe fell back against the big jump door. A mechanical whir filled the cabin. The door Joe was pinned against began to open.

Frank and Jamal set their sights on the larger plane.

“Whoever's flying that thing's no ace,” Jamal said.

“Lucky for us,” Frank replied.

They'd been slowly gaining on the aircraft but hadn't managed to come alongside it yet. Jamal had kept in touch via radio with the Scott Field control tower. The authorities seemed none too pleased with Jamal's sudden departure, but there was little they could do about it.

“The theft of Brooks's airplane will probably keep them from coming down on us too hard,” Frank said.

“Let's hope,” Jamal replied. “All I need is
more
trouble. Man, am I gonna have a story or two for my father when he gets back.”

“Here's wishing those stories have happy endings,” Frank said grimly.

Jamal nodded. “Hey, I think I see someone struggling inside the aft cabin.” He and Frank peered intently at the windows near the rear of the stolen plane.

“You're right,” Frank said. “That would explain why Joe hasn't overpowered the pilot yet.” He clenched his jaw. “If only I'd gotten aboard with him!”

“I bet Joe's thinking the same thing right now,” Jamal said.

The stolen plane quickly veered to the left, and Jamal had to move quickly to keep up.

The thief Joe was fighting grabbed on to the parachute rack to avoid falling. He laughed as the door behind Joe slowly slid open.

Joe rolled aside, grasped the jump handle next to the door, and hung on for dear life. He pulled himself out of harm's way just as the door opened completely.

The black-masked thief seemed none too secure in his own position. He hung precariously from the parachute rack, his feet dangling toward the open door. The pilot must have sensed his comrade's distress, though, for the blue-and-gold plane suddenly straightened out.

The thief let go of the rack and grabbed the straps of one of the parachutes. He came at Joe, swinging the parachute like a weapon. Joe ducked the blow, but the felon caught him on the backswing.

Joe lashed out with his hands, grabbing the parachute's canvas cover to steady himself and keep from toppling out the open door.

Just then the stolen plane hit an air pocket and lurched. Joe and the masked thief tumbled across the deck, out the open door, and into the autumn sky.

8 The Long Fall

Frank's heart jumped into his throat as he saw his brother fall out the jump door of the stolen plane.

“Oh, man!” Jamal gasped.

“Keep the plane level!” Frank called. He unbuckled himself and dived over the back of the seat into the rear of the Cessna. He yanked frantically on something stowed under the plane's seats.

“What are you doing?” Jamal asked, a note of panic in his voice.

“I'm going after him,” Frank said. He emerged with a parachute clutched in each hand.

“That's crazy,” Jamal said, “but I'd do the same if it were my brother. Get going!”

Frank opened the plane's passenger door and,
checking to make sure he wouldn't hit the wing struts or the tail, jumped out.

Joe and the masked thief plummeted through the sky, each clinging desperately to the straps of their shared parachute.

The felon twisted in the air, pulling hard, trying to yank the chute from Joe's grip.

“Cut it out!” Joe yelled, unsure if the thief could hear him. “We can get out of this if we work together!”

The thief only fought harder. Joe struggled toward him through the air, fighting the rushing of the wind. He reached for the felon's hand. As he did, the thief spun around and kicked him.

Joe lost his grip on the parachute. The thief, struggling to put on the parachute, quickly drifted away from him.

Joe looked down. The ground was still a long way off.

Cold wind whipped against Frank Hardy as he struggled to put on one of the parachutes with his hands. He could see Joe and the thief tumbling through the air far ahead of him.

Suddenly the thief broke free from Joe, and the two separated. In his hand the thief clutched the pair's sole parachute.

For a moment Frank's concern for his brother nearly overwhelmed him. His concentration lapsed, and the wind ripped the second parachute from his hand. Frank watched helplessly as it sailed away into the clouds.

A moment later he saw the thief's parachute open above him, while Joe continued to free-fall through the air.

Frank fastened the remaining chute around his body and dived after his brother.

Joe forced himself not to panic. He'd been in some tight spots before, but this was certainly one of the worst. He called to mind all the things he'd learned when he first started skydiving. None of them seemed pertinent to jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

He knew he could control his descent by splaying his body in the air. He lay flat, parallel to the onrushing earth, and stretched his arms and legs out on both sides. This increased his wind resistance and slowed him down slightly—but not enough to keep him from being killed at the end of the fall. The air around him was bitterly cold. It chilled him right through his clothing.

The chances of living through a jump without a working chute were very small. The stories Joe remembered of people surviving such a plunge all involved a soft landing. He began looking around
for something to land on that might merely break some bones rather than kill him.

Lakes and ponds were out of the question. Even during the summer, falling into one from this height would be like hitting a brick wall. There was a big lake almost directly below him, but it was frozen and covered with a fine sheen of snow.

A big snowdrift might cushion his fall, but there hadn't been enough snowfall yet to form anything suitable. Trees were the next best option, but most of the trees in the area had lost their leaves and looked more like spikes than a soft pile to jump into. Pine trees seemed little better.

The weather was too cold to find a good patch of mud or a newly plowed field. Joe gritted his teeth and shook his head in frustration. He had no good options.