Read The Disappearing Floor Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Disappearing Floor (6 page)
“Wow! That phone tip of Dad's
must
have been a fake!” Joe exploded. “I'll bet Strang wanted to make sure Dad was safely sidetracked on Long Island before the gang pulled this new job!”
must
have been a fake!” Joe exploded. “I'll bet Strang wanted to make sure Dad was safely sidetracked on Long Island before the gang pulled this new job!”
Frank sprang to his feet. “Come on, Joe! We can do some more detective work tonight!”
CHAPTER VII
A Fast Fade-out
“WHAT do you have in mind, Frank?” Joe asked.
“You weren't sure Noel Strang was one of those men at the mansion tonight,” Frank explained, “but we do know we saw him this morning.”
“So?”
“If he was involved in this latest jewel robbery, he must have
flown
to Chicago. It's the only way he could have reached there in time. Maybe we can check that out at the airport.”
flown
to Chicago. It's the only way he could have reached there in time. Maybe we can check that out at the airport.”
“Smart idea!” Joe agreed. “WaitâI'll get the photo of Strangâwe can use it if we need to ask the airlines' personnel whether or not they've seen him.”
The Hardys reached the airport a few minutes before twelve. Joe said, “Let's start by checking the passenger lists for today's flights to Chicago.”
“Strang wouldn't have used his own name if he were en route to commit a crime,” Frank objected.
“Maybe not, but how about one of his aliases?” Joe pointed to a paper with typewritten data pasted on the reverse side of Strang's photo.
“Hey! That's a thought!”
At each of the airline desks, the boys asked to see passenger lists for all flights to Chicago since that morning. Neither Strang's name nor any of his known aliases was listed.
Joe showed one desk clerk the photo of Strang, but the man shook his head. “All the airline employes who are here now came on duty within the last hour.” Then he pointed to a porter who was lounging near a flight gate. “You might ask that skycap over there. And try Benny at the newsstand.”
“Thanks. We'll do that.”
The boys showed their photograph to the porter and the newsstand operator. Neither recalled seeing such a man.
“How about charter flights?” Joe asked, “Let's check on that at the information desk.”
The attendant on duty told the boys that they would have to inquire about this at the control tower. “That's where the flight plans are filed,” he explained.
Before the Hardys could visit the tower, Joe spotted a plane coming in.
“Skyhappy Sal!”
he exclaimed.
“Skyhappy Sal!”
he exclaimed.
This was a charter ship of the Ace Air Service, operated by Jack Wayne. Jack was a veteran pilot who often flew assignments for Fenton Hardy. The brothers were soon shaking hands with Jack and his passenger, Sam Radley.
“Good flight?” Joe asked the wiry investigator.
Sam nodded. “Fast and smooth. Your dad thought you boys might brief me right away so we can plan some action.”
“We can start now,” Frank told him, then gave an account of the events that had taken place in Bayport. He told of the jewel robbery in Chicago, and added, “Joe and I were about to ask the tower if Strang might have taken off for Chicago on a charter flight.”
“I can do that,” Jack offered. “I know the dispatcher.”
“Swell,” said Frank. “Here's a photo of Strangâone of the men in the tower may recognize him, if he took a special flight out of here today. In the meantime, there's something the rest of us can be doing.”
“What's that?” Radley asked.
“Check the airport parking lot and see if Strang's foreign sports car is here.”
“Good thinking, Frank,” Radley said approvingly. “Your dad will tell you that a smart detective never takes anything for granted.”
While Jack Wayne started off to the control tower, the Hardys and Sam Radley headed for the parking area. Although it was now past midnight, there were still several cars on the lot.
As Sam and the boys began their inspection tour, a man stepped into view from between two rows of parked cars. Bull-necked and powerfully built, he had crew-cut hair and was wearing a loud sports jacket. At sight of the detectives, he hastily turned and retreated.
Sam Radley was startled. “That was Duke Makin!” he whispered.
“The racketeer and con man?” Joe asked, having heard his father mention the name.
“Yes,” Sam replied. “I wonder what he's doing here.” His sleuthing instincts aroused, the detective strode forward to investigate. Frank and Joe followed eagerly.
Suddenly an engine roared and a car came zooming out of the darkness. Sam and the Hardys had to leap out of the way as it screeched past!
“That's Strang's sports car!” Frank shouted.
Makin was hunched at the wheel. A figure appeared to be huddled in the space behind the front seat, but the car whizzed by too quickly for a clear view. It swung out onto the road.
“Come on! Let's follow him!” Frank urged.
The Hardys and Radley ran to the boys' convertible, leaped in, and took off. But the chase seemed hopeless from the start. Makin, speeding recklessly, already was out of sight.
Frank gunned the convertible along for a few miles, but after they had passed several crossroads and turnoffs, all three agreed to abandon the pursuit as hopeless. Glumly, Frank headed back to the airport.
“What do you suppose Makin was up to, Sam?” he queried. “Think he could be in with Strang on the jewel robberies?”
Radley frowned and shrugged. “Must be some kind of tie-up, if he's using Strang's car. Trouble is, we don't even know for sure that Strang's involved in the robberies.”
“Looked to me as if someone was hiding in the car,” Joe remarked. “Maybe that was Strang himself, trying not to be spotted.”
“Could be,” Radley agreed. “But if so, why was he hanging around the airport parking lot at this time of night?”
When they arrived back at the airfield, Jack Wayne had important news. A charter planeâowned and piloted by a man named Al Hirffâhad taken off at 9:37 P.M. The flight plan listed its destination as Chicago, and the ship was carrying a passenger named Norbert Smith.
“One of the tower operators was down on the field at the time,” Jack went on, “and he saw the passenger getting aboard. He says the guy looked just like this photograph of Strang!”
“Now we're getting somewhere!” Joe exclaimed. “For one thing, Strang wasn't the fellow hiding in his own car.”
“Do you know this man Hirff?” Frank asked Jack.
“I've seen him,” the pilot replied. “He rented hangar space here about a week before I flew Sam down to Florida.”
“Jack,” said Radley, “could you stick around here and let us know when the plane gets back?”
The pilot nodded. “Sure. I have a cot in the office. Maybe I can get chummy with Hirff and pick up some information for you.”
“Good idea,” said Frank. “One thing more, Jackâkeep an eye out for a black foreign sports car with a dented trunk. It may come here to pick up Strang when he gets back.”
“Wilco!” the pilot promised.
Radley was to bunk in the Hardys' guest room overnight. As they drove home, the boys discussed the situation with him.
“The plane took off at 9:37,” Joe mused. “And the robbery took place at ten o'clock. It's a cinch Strang couldn't have made it to Chicago in time to pull the job!”
“Maybe he planned it that way,” Frank reasoned, “so he'd have a clear alibi in case his movements were checked. He could have had confederates steal the jewels. Then Strang showed up in Chicago immediately afterward to take charge of the loot and give the robbers a fast lift out of town.”
“You may have the answer,” Radley agreed.
When they arrived home, Mrs. Hardy greeted them with the news that her husband had radioed again. “He heard about the Chicago jewel robbery right after you left Long Island, Sam. He wants you to contact him at once.”
Radley and the boys hurried downstairs and warmed up the transmitter. Soon Fenton Hardy's voice came over the speaker. Frank and Joe quickly reported the latest developments.
“Great work, sons!” the detective congratulated them. “This is the first solid clue we've had that may link Strang with the jewel thefts.”
“Want us to have him picked up for questioning if he comes back to Bayport?” Frank asked, taking the microphone from Joe.
“No, the local police would have no jurisdiction. Anyhow, they'd need a warrant from Chicago,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Besides, unless Strang were foolish enough to be carrying the loot with him-which I'm sure he isn'tâwe still have no real evidence against him. Until we do, there's no sense tipping our hand.”
“How about me, Fenton?” Sam Radley put in.
“I'll probably need your help to cover all the angles in Chicago. Tell you what, Sam. If Strang is back in Bayport by eight tomorrow morning, stay there and work with the boys. Otherwise, hop the eight-thirty commercial flight to Chicago and I'll meet you at O'Hare Airport. Tell Jack to stick around and give the boys a hand.”
Radley breakfasted early with the Hardys next morning, then the brothers took him to the airport. Hirff's plane still had not returned, so Radley boarded the eight-thirty flight to Chicago.
Frank and Joe drove home and looked up Duke Makin in their father's crime file. They learned that Makin had served time on three different convictions, and recently had been released from Sing Sing. Since then, so far as the dossier showed, no charge was pending against him.
Next, Frank called a real-estate agent who was a friend of Mr. Hardy's and learned that the Perth estate had been handled by a realtor named Cyrus Lamkin. The boys drove to his office.
Lamkin sat at an old-fashioned roll-top desk. He was a pudgy white-haired man, whose vest was littered with cigar ash. “You're the Hardy boys, eh?” he said, rising to shake hands. “Fine man, your father! What can I do for you?”
Frank asked guardedly if he could tell them the present status of the Perth mansion.
“Why, I sold that just a few months ago,” Lamkin replied. “Good price, too. I imagine the owners were glad to get that white elephant off their hands! They're distant relatives of the original owner. Live out in Ohio.”
“Who bought it?” Joe asked.
“Man named Aden Darrow.” Frank and Joe gave a start of surprise as Lamkin went on, “He's rather quick-tempered, but a very brilliant man apparently. Used to be a professor at Western State University.”
The Hardys looked at each other in amazement. Why would a college professor associate with a known crook like Strang?
Lamkin went on, “Funny how a piece of property can suddenly arouse interest in the real-estate market,” he mused conversationally. “Take that Perth place. Vacant for years. Then Darrow comes along and buys it. And now you lads are asking about the place. Second inquiry I've had in just a few days.”
“You mean someone else besides us has been asking about it?” Frank inquired.
“Yes, a prospective tenant came in the other day. He wanted to rent it.”
“Someone local?” Joe asked.
“No, from New York.” Lamkin paused to consult his calendar pad. “A Mr. Delius Martin.”
Again Frank and Joe were startled. The name was one of Duke Makin's aliases!
After a short further conversation with Mr. Lamkin, the boys thanked the realtor and went out to their convertible.
“What do you make of it, Frank?” Joe said.
“Nothingâthe puzzle's getting more complicated all the time. A college prof rents the place, a notorious jewel thief moves in with him, and now we have to fit Makin in somewhere!”
The boys decided to check into Darrow's background. But first they drove to the repair dock to see how work was progressing on the Sleuth. The manager promised to have the boat ready in three days.
Frank and Joe spotted the
Napoli
moored nearby. They were hailed by Tony Prito, who suggested they all go for a brief swim.
Napoli
moored nearby. They were hailed by Tony Prito, who suggested they all go for a brief swim.
“How about it?” Joe said, turning to his brother. “Our trunks are in the car.”
“Okay with me!”
Tony took the
Napoli
down the bay a short distance and they anchored at a pleasant spot in a sheltered cove. A cabin cruiser lay at anchor not far away. Frank and Tony took a quick plunge, then climbed back aboard to sun-bathe. Joe continued swimming by himself.
Napoli
down the bay a short distance and they anchored at a pleasant spot in a sheltered cove. A cabin cruiser lay at anchor not far away. Frank and Tony took a quick plunge, then climbed back aboard to sun-bathe. Joe continued swimming by himself.
Like a seal, Joe cut his way down through the cool, refreshing water. Then he swirled back toward the surface.
Suddenly he felt himself seized from underneath. A brawny arm clamped itself around his neck in a choking grip and pulled him down!
CHAPTER VIII
Rock Hounds' Shadow
JOE struggled desperately. He had already used up most of the air in his lungs even before he was attacked. Now he was being gripped beneath the surface, unable to call or signal for help!
Joe kicked and threshed, but he could not free himself from his attacker's iron grip. The only result was a tightening of pressure against his Adam's apple and a vicious jab in the ribs. When Joe tried to squirm around to face his assailant, the man rolled with him.
Joe's lungs were soon near the bursting point. If only he could reach the surface!
Aboard the
Napoli,
Frank began to worry. “What's Joe doing down there?” he muttered.
Napoli,
Frank began to worry. “What's Joe doing down there?” he muttered.
“Maybe he met a mermaid,” Tony quipped lazily.
As Frank scanned the waters, he noticed an uprush of air bubbles about a hundred yards away. Wordlessly, he plunged over the side.
Cutting his way downward, Frank peered intently through the wavering transparent greenness. His heart pounded at what he saw. Joe was helpless in the grip of a goggled frogman!
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