The Arctic Patrol Mystery (2 page)
Read The Arctic Patrol Mystery Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
“Just practicing my karate chop,” Chet said
“Humph! I worry all the time about you.”
“We're only going to Iceland,” said Joe.
“Iceland?” Aunt Gertrude made a face as if the entire country were run by wild, long-haired Vikings. “You'll freeze to death up there, if you're not eaten by a polar bear!”
“Or lost on the stormy seas,” Joe added.
“Don't get smart, young man,” his aunt replied, and marched into the kitchen, where she put the remaining pie and the milk back into the refrigerator.
Frank remembered studying about Iceland in school and knew that the weather should be mild in April, although there were occasional storms in the area at that time of year. “Bring some heavy clothes just in case,” he told his friend.
“How about skis and snowshoes?”
“Forget it, Chet. I didn't say the North Pole!”
“What about the rest of the gang? Shall I tell them?” asked Chet.
Frank hesitated. “Dad cautioned us not to say anything to anybody.”
“Well, Tony and Biff will know the next day that we're gone,” Joe put in. “Suppose we tell them we're going away on a secret mission without saying where.”
“Okay,” Frank agreed. “Maybe we can have a get-together before we leave.”
“Good idea.” Chet said good-by and chugged off. He made a stop at the Bayport Hardware Store for some farm supplies before heading back home.
As Chet hefted a bale of peat moss to his shoulder and carried it to his jalopy, he nearly bumped into Fred Marney, who broadcast the news on the Bayport TV channel. Marney was well acquainted with the exploits of the Hardys and their friends.
“Hi, Chet. Getting the garden ready?” he greeted the boy.
“Not me. This is for my mother's roses. No time for gardening.”
“What? With spring vacation coming up?”
“Oh, I'll be busy,” said Chet and moved toward the car.
“Busy with what?” Marney persisted. “Another Hardy boys' case?”
Chet tossed the bale to the back of the car and turned to frown at the broadcaster.
“So I hit the nail on the head, eh?” the news-man persisted.
“I didn't say
anything!”
Chet said, sliding behind the wheel. “The trip to Iceland is nobody's business exceptâ”
anything!”
Chet said, sliding behind the wheel. “The trip to Iceland is nobody's business exceptâ”
Chet could have bitten off his tongue as Marney smirked and turned away. He had broken his promise! What would the Hardys say now? Well, maybe it was of so little importance that Fred Marney would forget it.
That evening, just before the TV newscast, Chet got a phone call from Tony Prito. “Listen, Chet, big doings at our place tonight. My mother's giving a pizza feast. The whole bunch will be here. I told Iola already. Come with your appetite.”
“Then you know about the trip?” Chet asked.
“Biff and I do, but that's all. Frank and Joe want to keep it a secret.”
“Yeah, I know about that,” Chet said limply. “I'll be there, but I don't know about my appetite.”
Tony Prito laughed as he hung up, and Chet tuned in the evening report. His eyes were glued to the TV screen. National news came first, then other reports of statewide importance, and finally an item about the Bayport city council. Chet breathed a sigh of relief. His secret had not been violated!
In the Hardy home Frank, Joe, and Mr. Hardy were watching the same program while the boys' mother and Aunt Gertrude were preparing supper. After the council report Fred Marney smiled at his viewers and said, “And now a little juicy tidbit for fans of the famous Hardy boys.” Frank and Joe froze and Mr. Hardy frowned deeply.
The reporter went on, “This time it's a trip to Iceland for Frank and Joe and, of course, their pal Chet Morton, too. Since this is not a junket for fun in the sun, we wonder what the detectives are up to now.”
“Holy crow!” Joe exclaimed and flicked off the set. “How did he find out about that?”
“I'm afraid this means trouble,” Mr. Hardy said, thumping a fist into the palm of his hand. “Well, what's done is done!”
“Do you suppose it was Chet?” asked Frank.
The answer came with the ringing of the telephone. Joe grabbed it. The voice on the other end was so low that he could hardly hear it. “What? ... Oh, it's you, Chet.... Yes, we heard.” There was a long silence while Chet explained.
Then Joe went on, “No, I don't think it'll wash out the trip, but Dad's very much upset. See you later.”
Joe told the others what had happened, which was not of much comfort to his father. After supper Mr. Hardy announced that he was leaving for an important secret meeting.
Frank and Joe showered and dressed for the party in the Pritos' rumpus room. Chet was bringing his sister Iola, and Frank was to pick up Callie Shaw at her home. Just as the boys started out to their car, they heard the phone ring.
Aunt Gertrude answered. After listening for a few moments, she said, “You shouldn't play pranks like this, Callie Shawl What is it youâ?” Then she turned to the boys with an astonished expression on her face. “Goodness, she hung up on me!”
“That couldn't have been Callie,” Frank said. “She wouldn't do a thing like that!”
“What did the caller say?” Joe asked.
“She claimed it was the White House calling Fenton Hardy.”
The boys climbed into their convertible, uneasy about the strange call. Had it been a joke?
“We'd better not mention this to anyone,” Frank said. Joe agreed.
A few minutes later they pulled up at the Shaws' house, and Frank hurried to pick up his pretty blond date.
When they arrived at Tony Prito's place, Frank parked in front of the house, and the three entered. Chet and his vivacious, dark-haired sister were already there. They all trooped down to the basement, where brawny Biff Hooper and good-looking Tony were playing a game of Ping-Pong.
Their dates were shouting encouragement to the two, when Tony sent a sizzling backhand shot which nicked the end of the table.
“You win!” Biff said and put down his paddle. “Hi, Frank, Joe! The news is all over town!”
When Frank remained silent, Tony said, “Hey, you guys, where's your bounce tonight?”
“The news shouldn't have gotten out,” Joe explained. “Well, let's forget about the whole thing and have some fun.”
The boys grabbed billiard cues and went to the large table which occupied one end of the basement. Callie, meanwhile, put on some dance records, and as the evening progressed, the fun increased until Mrs. Prito appeared carrying a large tray of red-hot pizza.
Frank touched Callie's arm. “I'd like to get out for a little fresh air before we tackle the goodies.”
“Me, too,” Callie replied. “It's stuffy in here.”
The couple stepped out into the star-studded evening. As they walked toward the front of the house, Frank noticed a car parked five feet from the curb, almost directly behind his convertible. All its doors were open.
Three men approached Frank as he walked forward. Callie lingered behind. When the man in the lead had almost reached Frank, he suddenly commanded, “Come with us!”
Callie stifled a scream and ran back into the house!
CHAPTER II
Thug for Hire
FRANK sized up the situation in a split second. The doors of the car stood open, and its motor was running. All prepared, Frank thought, to receive the kidnap victim.
The young detective dodged the man in front of him, raced through the clutching hands of the other two, and dived into the car. In a twinkling he had it in gear and floored the accelerator.
Whoosh!
Tires screeched as the car bolted ahead. It zigzagged wildly, its doors flying, until Frank gained control and spun around the corner. Now to get back to the thugs as quickly as possible !
Tires screeched as the car bolted ahead. It zigzagged wildly, its doors flying, until Frank gained control and spun around the corner. Now to get back to the thugs as quickly as possible !
Frank circled the block and returned to the Prito house, where everyone was standing on the front lawn.
Only one thug was in evidence, flat on his back, with Tony kneeling on his chest. Moments later two police cars, blinkers flashing, raced up. Bayport's Chief Collig jumped out, followed by his driver. Patrolman Riley leaped from the other car.
“What's going on?” Collig asked crisply. He was a portly, middle-aged man, a close confidant of the Hardys.
“A kidnap attempt,” Frank said.
“Here's the one we caught!” Tony said. “The other two got away.” He pulled the man to his feet. He was thin and of medium height with sunken cheeks and bulging eyes. Tony's hand twisted the thug's shirt front, until the man winced.
“Who are you?” Tony demanded.
“And your pals?” Joe added.
But the captive would not talk.
“We probably have a file on him,” Chief Collig said. He handcuffed the prisoner and turned him over to Riley. Then he went to his car and radioed headquarters. Returning, the police chief stated, “We'll search for the other two men, don't worry.”
“Thanks,” Frank said, and the young people went back to their party.
After refreshments, Frank and Joe dropped Callie off, then drove home. Mr. Hardy was not back yet, and Frank told their mother what had happened.
He had just finished when the lights of the detective's car swept the front windows as it pulled into the driveway. Mr. Hardy entered through the back door, looking serious.
When he heard about the kidnapping attempt, he shook his head. “I'm sorry I got you involved in this whole nasty business.”
“Don't worry, Dad,” Joe said. “We can take care of ourselves.”
Mr. Hardy seemed lost in thought for a moment, then asked, “Anyone telephone while I was gone?”
“No, dear,” his wife replied, but added quickly, “Oh, yes, someone did call. Gertrude thought it was a joke.”
Mr. Hardy glanced at her in alarm. “Where was the call from?”
“The White Houseâat least that's what the girl said.”
The detective gave a low whistle and shook his head again.
“What's wrong, Dad?” Frank asked sympathetically. He had never seen his father so dejected.
The detective managed a smile and looked at his sons. “I can't tell you now,” he said. “Later, perhaps.” He gave each boy a pat on the back, then climbed the stairs to his study.
Frank and Joe went to bed, wondering what it was all about. A little later they heard their father go to his bedroom and then make a telephone call on the upstairs hall extension. He spoke in low tones and they could not hear what he was saying.
In the middle of the night, both boys were awakened by Mr. Hardy's footsteps going downstairs. Joe leaped up and opened the door a crack. He heard his father greet two men in whispered tones. Then he led them upstairs to his study.
“Holy crow!” Frank whispered. “This is regular cloak-and-dagger stuff, Joe!”
“You can say that again!”
They returned to bed and slept fitfully until morning. At breakfast no mention was made of the mysterious callers.
Finally Mr. Hardy said, “Boys, I'm going on a special mission to Texas. There's something I want to give you to take to Iceland.”
Frank and Joe followed him to his study. He unlocked one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out what looked like a small transistor radio.
“What's that?” Joe asked.
“It's the latest in decoders,” Mr. Hardy replied, “and it works on the decibel principle.”
He explained that the high peaks of sound in any conversation were the keys to the code. “Once you have established these,” he said, “the message can be decoded by using this special book.”
He reached down again and handed Frank a small black codebook and a miniature tape recorder. “The recorder can be attached to a telephone or radio,” he concluded.
Father and sons went over the principles of the decibel machine. When they had finished, the detective said, “Boys, you must guard this machine and the codebook carefully. These may be a lot more important on the second case I'm investigating.”
“Is it connected with Iceland?” Joe asked.
“Very possibly. I want you to leave on tonight's Loftleidir flight to Reykjavik.”
Frank made reservations immediately. After their father had left, Joe telephoned Chet.
“We're leaving for Kennedy International Airport at six,” he said. “So bring your gear over to the house at five o'clock.”
By four all was ready at the Hardy home. As the boys were locking their suitcases, a call came from police headquarters. Frank talked to the chief, and when he had finished, relayed the information to his brother. The prisoner had been identified. He was from New York City, a thug for hire, and seemed fearful about mentioning his employer.
“The other two made a getaway,” Frank said. “They're probably in New York. Police there have been alerted.”
Half an hour later Frank and Joe were amazed to see Chet's car pull up in front quietly and without backfiring. “Oh, oh, there's the reason,” Joe said with a big grin. Frank looked out the window to see Iola at the wheel with Callie Shaw sitting beside her.
The Hardys ran out to greet them. Chet occupied the rear seat along with his suitcase, a flight bag, an extra heavy overcoat, and a small camera and a radio slung around his neck.
“I thought I'd better drive,” Iola said with a dimpled smile, “because we wanted Chet to start his trip in good health.”
“I just came along to say good-by,” said Callie, looping her arm through Frank's.
“Chet, bring the stuff over here,” Joe suggested. “We'll put it all in our car. Iola can drive it back and pick up the jalopy here.”
Other books
The Kid: A Novel by Ron Hansen
Luck of the Draw (Xanth) by Piers Anthony
The Saturday Wife by Naomi Ragen
A Study in Darkness by Emma Jane Holloway
Practical Jean by Trevor Cole
The Inquisitor: A Novel by Smith, Mark Allen
The Mystery Cruise by Gertrude Chandler Warner
Scandalous by Ferguson, Torrian
The Shapeshifters by Stefan Spjut
We're in Trouble by Christopher Coake