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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

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BOOK: Mystery of the Flying Express
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The detective got up from his chair and peered out the window. “I came up here secretly to give you the news about Sam Radley. Now I'd better get back to Shark Harbor and see if I can pick up his trail.”
“How do we fit in, Dad?” Joe asked.
“Up here, you can watch out for Nepo and Zigurski. Either of them could be the key to this puzzle.”
Suddenly Frank put his finger to his lips. “Sh! Listen! A prowler!”
Someone was moving around outside the cottage. Footsteps sounded softly as if the person was trying to avoid detection.
Fenton Hardy whispered, “I can't let anyone see me here. I'll hide under the bed.” He got down on the floor and squirmed out of sight.
Frank stepped quietly to the door and jerked it open. A bent figure stumbled into the room.
“Mr. Malarky!” Joe exclaimed as the big man caught his balance.
“What a nice surprise,” Frank added with a smile. “We'd like you to meet Chet Morton.”
They shook hands and Frank went on, “We thought you had forgotten about us using your cottage. So you remembered after all!”
Big Malarky was embarrassed. “I nearly did forget you,” he confessed. “When my secretary reminded me you boys were here, I came over to see if you were comfortable.” With a sly grin he added, “See any more outboard motors?”
The Hardys laughed and Joe said, “Guess we all can make a mistake, Mr. Malarky.”
Frank assured him that everything about the cottage was just fine. There was a bit more small talk about boating and then Malarky left.
“That's a Virgo for you,” Chet observed. “Passion for details.”
“Think Malarky's on the up-and-up, Dad?” Joe queried as his father crawled out from under the bed.
Mr. Hardy brushed his palms across the knees of his trousers, and straightened up. “I'm not too sure. He certainly sounded like a prowler. On the other hand, this is his cottage and you fellows are his guests. He had a plausible enough reason to be down here.”
“I still suspect him,” Joe asserted. “He may be a Virgo with a passion for details, as Chet says. But we know him as a tough operator who doesn't like competition. He's practically admitted that he's out to ruin Spencer Given and destroy the hydrofoil.”
“I agree,” Frank said. “Why should Big Malarky be concerned about our comfort? It's just as likely that he was snooping around for information about our connection with the Flying
Express!”
“I'll leave that point to you,” Fenton Hardy told them, “and take off while the coast is clear.”
He opened the back door, took a look around to be sure no one was lurking near the house, and quickly slipped out.
The boys turned in early, and were fast asleep when their alarm system came to life. Frank was the first to hear it.
He shook Joe and Chet, and the three gathered around the receiver.
“No ducks this time,” Chet murmured. “Men are out there on the dock.”
“Let's listen,” Joe advised in an undertone. “Maybe they'll give themselves away if we don't go barging in on their summit conference.”
Several voices came through at once until one, who seemed to be the leader, called for silence.
“Get the boats going!” he ordered.
“What about the Flying
Express?”
another voice demanded. ”Isn't that caper still on?”
There was a scuffling noise as if the speaker was being roughed up.
“You fool!” the leader raged. “Mention that again and you'll end up keeping company with the flounders!”
“Okay, okay! Leave me alone! It was only a slip of the tongue! Won't happen again!”
“It better not!”
“Forget it,” came a third voice. “We've got enough to do tonight. No sense fighting among ourselves when we've got the Hardys to deal with!”
The men fell silent. Motors began to purr.
“They're probably going to raid the Starfish Marina!” Chet exploded. He dashed from the cottage.
Joe followed him, while Frank rushed to the nearest public phone and called the police. Then he joined Joe, Chet, and Al Hinkley at the marina. They were standing on the jetty counting the lines of boats at anchor.
“They're all accounted for.” Hinkley was puzzled. “Are you fellows sure you heard a gang of raiders?”
“I'd like to ask the same question,” said a stern voice behind them. It was the constable. “You said boats were being stolen. Well, how many are gone?”
Frank gulped. “It seems like none.”
“But there's something fishy about this,” Joe burst out. “Half a dozen motors were running.”
Frank slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “A diversionary tactic. That's what it was! They foxed us into congregating here, while they're making the real hit elsewhere.”
“But where?” Chet asked.
“Good night!” Joe exclaimed. “The Flying
Express!
We'd better get over there double-quick!”
They piled into cars and sped to the hydrofoil dock. Spencer Given was standing there, gazing forlornly over the water. Shoulders sagging, he turned toward the group running toward him.
“You're too late!” Given's features contorted with rage. “The Flying Express has been stolen!”
CHAPTER XVI
Clever Clues
“I wAs in my office at the dock when I heard the hydrofoil motors rev up,” Given explained. “She was in port all day for minor repairs. I snapped on the lights and came running out to the berth—just in time to see the Flying Express vanish.”
“Did you get a look at the thieves?” Frank asked. “Could you identify them?”
“No. They were already in the pilot house before I realized what was happening.”
“We'll put out an all-points bulletin,” the constable promised him. “A hydrofoil's not easy to hide. Yours must be somewhere along the coast not far from here. Someone will spot her.”
He went off to sound the alarm, setting in motion an intense search by squad cars and Coast Guard boats. By dawn, however, they all had failed to find the Flying Express.
“We don't have any idea where they are,” the constable informed Given by telephone. “But we'll keep trying.”
Frank, Joe, and Chet, who had joined the search by car, came back with the same disturbing news. Given, wringing his hands, finally went to his lodgings in Providence. The boys remained alone on the dock as the sun began to rise over the bay.
“Is this Malarky's work?” Chet wondered aloud.
“Nothing's impossible where Malarky's concerned,” Frank replied. “But we have no evidence tying him to the theft. That's what we need—evidence. Let's look around.”
“Any idea what we're looking for?” Chet asked.
“Could be anything. I don't imagine these pirates left a calling card. But maybe they accidentally dropped a clue.”
Joe stooped and pulled a greenish paper from between the boards of the dock. “Here's something—a dollar bill! Might not help us with the case, but it'll help fill my piggy bank. Finders keepers!”
The bill was neatly folded. Joe opened it, turned it over, and started to put it in his pocket. Suddenly something caught his eye.
“Frank! Chet!” he called to the others. “There's an odd bit of writing on the reverse side. I can make out a few letters.”
The three put their heads together and Joe pointed to the bottom of the bill where the words ONE DOLLAR were printed in large capitals.
“Take a gander at the N in ONE,” he said. “Underneath it somebody has marked the letter I in black pencil. And below that, the letter G.”
“Notice this,” Frank added. “The first S in STATES has a circle around it. So has the R in AMERICA. Joe, I've got it! Those letters make the initials SR!”
“Sam Radley!” Joe blurted. “He must have dropped the dollar bill to give us a lead!”
“What about the rest of the message?” Chet asked.
Frank studied the bill carefully. “I wonder if we've been trying to read these other letters the wrong way around. Let's try it this way.”
He turned the dollar bill lengthwise. “When we put the bald eagle at the top, the N in ONE ceases to be an N. It becomes a Z. Right?”
“Right!” Joe agreed. “And with the I and G we get ZIG!”
“Zigurski!” Frank exclaimed excitedly. “Hooks and his gang grabbed Sam Radley!”
Joe was galvanized. “Let's look around some more,” he urged. “Sam may have dropped another clue. He'd want to leave us a clear track to follow.”
Finding nothing more on the dock, the boys climbed down a ladder to where the water lapped against the pilings. Paper, sticks, and other debris floated on the tide.
“I think I see something,” Frank said. At the bottom of the ladder, he took a firm grip on one rung. Leaning far over he snatched a brown leather object from the water.
“Look, Joe, a wallet!”
They climbed back to the dock. Frank spread the wallet out on his knee. The initials SR were stenciled in gold letters on one flap.
“Sam Radley!” Chet gasped.
“Not much doubt about that,” Frank said, “but this will be the final proof.”
He carefully slid a number of papers from the inner pocket. They were sodden from their stay in the water, but still legible. Frank extracted a driver's license and held it up for the others to see.
The name Radley was perfectly clear!
Frank looked grim. “Now we're certain that Sam is in the clutches of Hooks Zigurski's gang! And they think Sam is Dad!”
“That means Sam is in real danger!” Chet finished the thought.
“No doubt,” Joe said. “But where did the gang take him?”
“My guess is the hydrofoil,” Frank said. “Chances are that Sam dropped his wallet into the bay before boarding it to keep his kidnappers from learning his true identity. Could be that they called him Fenton Hardy and he decided to play along with the mistake.”
“That means we'd better catch up with the Flying Express fast and rescue Sam!”
The sun was well up by now. Word that the hydrofoil was missing had spread in Providence, and curious people came down onto the dock. They buzzed around, exchanging rumors and gossip.
“That's where she was,” one man remarked, pointing to the empty berth of the
Flying Express.
“She must be jinxed,” another argued. “She's had too many accidents!”
“Will she ever make the run back to Bayport? Or is she gone for good?” asked a third.
Frank said, “This talk's getting me down. I see Mr. Given has come back. Let's find out if he's learned anything new from the authorities.”
Given obviously had not slept. He had dark circles under his eyes and a strained look on his face.
“No,” he answered their questions, “I haven't had any further contact with the police or the Coast Guard. For all the good they've done, the Flying Express might have vanished from the earth!”
“Still, they've only been on the case for a few hours,” Frank pointed out.
“And in the darkness,” Joe added.
Chet started to say something about the cor junction of the planets in Pisces—Given's sign of the Zodiac—but Joe nudged him sharply and whispered, “This is no time to talk astrology!”
Just then Big Malarky came striding up, surrounded by a group of his husky aqualantes. Feet apart and hands on hips, he confronted Given with a mocking smile.
“So,” he smirked, “the
Flying Express
has flown the coop! Now isn't that just too bad!”
Given turned purple with rage. “You won't be laughing for long, Malarky! I'm having you arrested on charges of harassment and robbery. You've stolen the
Flying Express!”
Malarky stopped grinning. “Are you accusing me of being a crook? Why you little punk, I oughta toss you into the bay!”
“Just try it! Just try it!” Given shouted, forgetting his vow never to tangle with his bigger opponent.
Malarky pushed him toward the end of the dock. Chet stepped forward to pull Given back, and took one of Malarky's blows full in the chest. Chet fell over backward, hit his head with a sharp crack on the edge of the dock, and went over into the bay.
“He's unconscious!” someone yelled. “He'll drown!”
Frank and Joe both leaped forward, but a man from the crowd got there before them. Hitting the water in a clean dive, he grabbed Chet and pulled him to the pier. Helped by a dozen willing hands, Chet was lifted onto the dock. There a policeman who had just arrived gave him first aid. When Chet's rescuer climbed out of the water, the Hardy boys gasped. He was Henry Chassen!
“Seems we owe you another debt of gratitude,” Joe commented.
Chassen smiled modestly. “Think nothing of it. You were ready to go in after Chet Morton. I just happened to beat you because I was nearer to the scene of the accident. I'm glad to see Chet's coming around.”
“We thought you'd left town,” Frank said, “since we didn't see you around the Decor Shop. Your landlady didn't know where you were, either.”
“I was doing some landscapes of the cape. One day's trip down the coast, that's all.”
“You didn't happen to go with Rance Nepo, did you?”
“No. In fact, I understand he's away on his vacation. Why do you ask?”
Frank and Joe explained their suspicion of Nepo. Chassen expressed surprise and added, “I really don't know him very well. I've bought some equipment in his store, but that's about it.”
BOOK: Mystery of the Flying Express
13.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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