Danger in the Air
The landing field at Bellevue was shrouded in heavy shadows of the
fast-coming night when Andy dropped his Ace sportster down after the
futile pursuit of the strange plane.
Merritt Timms, the secret service chief, was waiting for them when the
young engineer and the radio operator climbed out of the fuselage.
“Did you get the department of commerce number on the fellow I saw you
chasing?” he asked.
“I should say we didn’t,” replied Andy. “He was too fast for one thing
and for another, he didn’t have any number on his wings that I could
see.”
“Outlaw plane?” asked Timms.
“Yes,” replied Andy, “and a strange machine. I’ve never seen one exactly
like it. I’m going over to the office and see if I can check up on its
design. I’ve some guide books there that may help us.”
“How’s the Rubanian agent that was winged earlier this morning?” Bert
asked the secret service man.
“He’ll come through nicely,” replied Timms, “and probably spend about
the next five years in a military prison wondering what it is all
about.”
“Have you had a chance to talk to him?” Andy wanted to know.
“Not yet. I’m going over after supper. Want to come along?”
“Yes,” said the young engineer. “How about you, Bert?”
“Count me in,” replied the radio operator. “It’s too bad he’s wounded.
I’d like to give him a punch on the nose after all the damage he did to
my radio room.”
“I don’t blame you,” chuckled Andy. “He certainly did mess things up but
if he had been very intelligent he’d have recognized the installation
for the Goliath and have smashed it all to pieces. I guess we’ve been
lucky after all.”
When they reached the office Andy dug some reference books on airplane
design out of a box and sat down to hunt for a description of the type
of craft that he had encountered only a few minutes before.
“I don’t think it was an American-made machine,” he said, “so we won’t
waste time hunting there. Let’s try the foreign designers first.”
British, French, Italian and German divisions failed to furnish any
designs similar to the craft he had pictured in his mind’s eye.
The Russians had a low-winged monoplane but the wing mounting was too
high to answer the description of the craft Andy and Bert had seen.
Andy turned on to the section devoted to the aviation activities and
designs of the Rubanian air force. Here was something nearer what he
sought. Pictured on one page was a low-winged machine with a streamlined
fuselage that very nearly answered the description of the machine he had
seen. A footnote added that planes of this type were in production at
the Blenkko works near Kratz, the Rubanian capital, but that it was
possible minor changes might be made in them when they were put through
actual air tests.
“How does this picture strike you?” Andy asked Bert.
“Looks almost exactly like the monoplane we chased,” replied the chubby
radio operator.
Merritt Timms was intensely interested in the description of the
Rubanian plane.
“I’m not surprised,” he said, “and I have a hunch we’ll find that it was
a Rubanian monoplane.”
“But how could it get clear over here?” asked Bert.
Timms pointed at the specifications of the monoplane which were printed
under the picture.
“Cruising range 7,000 miles,” read Bert.
“That would give a good flyer an ample margin to fly from Rubania to
Bellevue,” said Timms, “and such a feat isn’t at all impossible.”
“You talk as though you thought the Goliath was in great danger of
damage by Rubanian agents,” said Bert.
“I don’t think now; I know,” replied Timms gravely, “for you may be sure
that there is danger connected with anything in which Alex Reikoff,
dictator of Rubania, is interested. Will you write a brief description
of this plane?” he asked, turning to Andy.
“It won’t take five minutes,” promised Andy.
“Thanks,” said Timms. “I’ll have a complete description broadcast and
we’ll be sure to pick him up somewhere. He can’t fly on forever and
he’ll find that disobeying Uncle Sam’s orders and flying over a
forbidden area is not to be joked with.”
Andy wrote a brief but thorough description of the mystery plane and
Timms departed to get his message on its way to the broadcasting
stations from which a complete description and warning to watch out for
the gray monoplane would soon be sent to hundreds of thousands of
listeners.
“Think Timms will be able to pick up the flyer of this Rubanian plane?”
Bert asked.
“It will be something out of the ordinary if he doesn’t,” replied Andy.
“Timms may be a little slow to get started but once he is on the job he
is like a bull dog; he never gives up.”
Andy made sure that all of the precious specifications for the Goliath
were in the big steel vault before he locked the office. They walked
down to the one hotel, where they had made their home while in Bellevue,
and cleaned up for supper. A regular mess hall had been built at the
plant for the crews, who worked, ate and slept in the buildings erected
beside the hangar, but technicians and crew foremen lived at the hotel.
The two long tables in the dining room were well filled when Andy and
Bert entered and they were joined a minute or two later by Timms.
“The alarm will be all over the country in another fifteen minutes,”
said the secret service man, “and we ought to have some news either
tonight or the first thing in the morning.”
Structural experts, gas experts, motor specialists and expert fitters
were at the table and the talk, as it always did, centered on the
Goliath, how much progress had been made that day, what they would do
the next and to speculation on the exact day the big ship would take the
air and what would be its destination on its first official flight.
“Any news on where we’ll go on our first long trip?” one of the motor
experts asked Andy.
“Sure,” replied the young engineer. “We’re going to the North pole to
exchange mail with the submarine Neptune this summer.”
“What!”
“Quit your kidding.”
“Say it again.”
“You’re dreaming.”
These and a chorus of similar exclamations greeted Andy’s quiet
statement. He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that most of the men
in the room thought he was joking and he had to repeat his statement two
more times before they took him seriously.
“Wait a minute,” he added. “I’ll read you the telegram that came this
afternoon.”
He pulled the message from his pocket and read his father’s words. When
he had finished they were all grave. There was no question now. They
were going to the North pole on their first great test of the new
airship. Every man in the room knew something of the dangers of a polar
flight and they admired Andy’s father for his courage in sending the
Goliath on such a voyage.
“We’ll make a lot of flights to various cities in this country,”
explained Andy, “before we start on the long trip north so the ship will
have a thorough test and we’ll know just exactly what she’ll do.”
“She’ll do everything the specifications call for and more too,”
exclaimed one of the rigging foremen and his words represented the
sentiment of every expert in the room for they all had explicit
confidence that the Goliath would live up to expectations of her
designers and builders.
“When do you think we’ll be ready for the test flights?” one of the
helium experts asked Andy.
“With the polar trip definitely decided on,” replied Andy, “we’ll have
to be in the air before the end of the next sixty days. That means we
can’t afford even a single hour’s delay on the assembly schedule and we
may have to lengthen the shifts in order to get through.”
“We’ll work 24 hours a day if we have to,” said one of the enthusiastic
foremen, for after nearly two years of exacting construction work, they
were all anxious to see the Goliath test its wings.
The remainder of the supper hour was devoted to heated discussions of
the various features of the dirigible, and who would be selected for the
crew. Every man in the room hoped that he would get by the final weeding
out process and win a permanent berth on the world’s largest airship.
Timms was waiting for Andy and Bert after supper in the lobby of the
hotel.
“I’m going over and talk to the Rubanian,” he said. “Better come along.”
They were about to leave the lobby when the program of dance music which
was coming in on the radio stopped abruptly for a station announcement.
“Wait a minute,” said Bert. “They haven’t stopped for the usual station
identification. They cut that piece off in the middle.”
They went closer to the receiver and it seemed as though the announcer
in the station miles away had seen their movement for he started his
announcement at once.
“We have just received a special bulletin,” said the voice on the ether
waves. “A powerful monoplane, of low-winged construction, was sighted
just at sunset near Bellevue, Ky. It was flying over a restricted area
in violation of department of commerce rules. The machine is fast and
slate-gray in color. There appeared to be only one man in the machine
and from the description at hand it is evidently of foreign make. It is
possible that some European flyer, on a secret long-distance flight, has
crossed the Atlantic, and, unaware of the department of commerce
regulation, flew over Bellevue, home of the giant airship Goliath. Now,
news hounds, get busy and let’s see what you can find out about this
strange, low-winged monoplane. Any information should be sent direct to
this station. Our program of music will continue.”
The voice stopped and the dance band which was featured at that hour on
the air resumed.
“That ought to get results,” said Andy. “Anyone listening in on this
program who has heard or seen a plane in the last two hours will
undoubtedly send in a report.”
“We’ll have a lot of misinformation,” said Timms, “but a real clue may
develop.”
“How many stations carried that announcement?” asked Bert.
“The message was sent to about 50 of the major broadcasters,” replied
Timms, “and every one of them will put it on the air.”
“In other words, you covered the whole country,” grinned Bert.
“That’s what I hoped to do,” replied Timms. “Now we’ll see just how much
value the radio is to the secret service in an emergency when we need
the cooperation of the public.”
“You’ll have something definite before midnight,” predicted Bert, who
was quick to rise to the defense of his chosen profession.
“It’s seven-thirty now,” said Andy, glancing at the clock in the lobby.
“That gives you four and a half hours.”
“That’s enough,” replied Bert. “If there isn’t some real clue by that
time I’ll buy your suppers tomorrow night.”
“And if you win?” Andy asked.
“Then I’ll eat supper tomorrow night and the next on you two,” grinned
Bert.
“I’ll buy your suppers for a week,” promised Timms, “if we know by
midnight where this mysterious plane went.”
The doctor in charge of the little emergency hospital which was a part
of the National Airways equipment at Bellevue informed them that Dubra,
or Cliff Bolton as he had been listed on the payroll, was resting easily
and in condition to talk.
The Gerka agent was in a private room and a soldier was seated across
the hall, facing the door. The windows were barred and there was little
chance that Reikoff’s secret agent would go free until Uncle Sam decided
he had paid the penalty for his treachery.
Dubra was propped up on pillows, reading an evening paper. He looked up
expectantly when they entered but the moment he saw Timms he became
sullen. The radio down the hall was plainly audible and Andy recognized
the music of the dance band they had heard over the receiving set at the
hotel. Unquestionably Dubra had heard the emergency announcement. Andy
wondered if there had been any connection between Dubra’s attempt to
wreck the hangar that morning and the arrival of the Rubanian plane. It
was logical to believe that it was part of a carefully laid out plot. He
had thought the Goliath safe from an air attack by a jealous foreign
country but if the gray plane they had sighted that afternoon proved to
be a Rubanian ship, they would have to station several fast army pursuit
ships at the field or perhaps install searchlights to ward off any night
attack. Possibilities of destruction of the Goliath by an air attack
were limitless and Andy grew sick at the thought that the great ship,
which represented the labor and love of hundreds of men, was in danger
and he looked at the wounded agent of the Gerka with little sympathy.
“How do you feel tonight?” Timms asked Dubra.
“How do you suppose?” was the sullen reply. “I’ve got two bullet holes
in my right leg and another in my left one.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get one through the heart,” replied Timms
cheerfully.
“You’ll suffer for this outrage,” promised Dubra, whose eyes shifted
from the secret service agent to Andy, then to Bert, and back to Timms.
“Just as soon as my government learns of this unwarranted attack you’ll
be in enough trouble to last you the rest of your life.”
Dubra’s bravado angered Timms, who spoke fiercely.
“Shut up and listen to me,” said the secret service agent. “You’re a
Rubanian resident who posed as a naturalized American. You entered this
country unlawfully, you’re a secret agent of the Gerka, you attempted to
commit murder this morning when you turned on the power of the hangar
door and almost killed a half dozen men working on it, you attempted to
escape from a military reservation and were shot when you failed to obey
repeated commands to halt. A full report of this has been forwarded to
the department of justice. You’ll be lucky if you don’t spend the rest
of your life behind the bars at a military prison for remember, Dubra,
that military, not civil, courts will deal with your offense and army
courts are well known for the severity of their sentences on scoundrels
such as you.”
The concise, bitter indictment by Timms broke Dubra’s spirit of bravado
and the agent of the Gerka cringed as he thought of his black future.
“How much were you to be paid for wrecking the hangar?” asked Timms.
Dubra refused to answer.
“How much?” Timms repeated the question.
Still no answer.
“All right, boys,” said the secret service agent. “We’ll just turn off
the light and leave Dubra alone in the dark tonight. He has plenty to
think about. Oh, yes, I’ll tell the orderly down the hall Dubra’s to
have no water to drink and any calls from this room are not to be
answered.”
Timms reached for the light switch and Dubra suddenly changed his mind.
“I’ll talk, I’ll talk,” he cried, “only don’t leave me alone in the
dark. Something might happen. What do you want to know?”
“Are you the only agent of the Gerka in the plant now?” asked Timms, his
words snapping through the quiet of the room.
“Yes,” replied Dubra so quickly that the others were convinced he had
told the truth.
“And your job was to wreck the hangar and delay construction until
another and more powerful agent could get here and finish the job of
sabotage against the Goliath?” went on Timms.
This time there was no reply to the question and Dubra turned his face
toward the wall.
“I’ll give you a minute to make up your mind,” said Timms.
The seconds ticked away and there was no sound from any of the four in
the small room.
“Make up your mind,” warned Timms. “Ten more seconds and the lights go
out.”
The secret service chief, Andy and Bert turned to leave the room. They
were on the threshold when Dubra called them back.
“My job was to wreck the hangar,” he confessed, the words coming slowly
and evidently with the greatest reluctance.
“Who is going to attempt to wreck the Goliath?” demanded the secret
service chief.
“I don’t know,” whispered Dubra. “The Gerka doesn’t work that way. Each
of us is assigned a specific task to carry out independent of anyone
else.”
“Then you don’t know who flew that gray monoplane over here this
afternoon?” asked Andy.
“I didn’t know a monoplane came over.”
“Don’t lie,” said Timms. “If you didn’t hear the noise you certainly
heard the announcement over the radio just a few minutes ago. Did you
expect someone to make a long-distance flight from Rubania for the
purpose of destroying the Goliath?”
“I didn’t expect anyone,” replied Dubra.
“But someone else was to carry out the attack on the Goliath?” persisted
Timms.
“Yes,” whispered Dubra.
“That’s enough for the present,” said Timms. “Let’s go, boys.”
“You promised Dubra some pretty rough treatment if he wouldn’t talk,”
said Bert when they left the hospital.
“It was bluff, pure and simple,” smiled Timms, “but he’s in a precarious
situation and is smart enough to realize that his case will be handled
by a court-martial. He’s between two fires. If he talks too much his own
organization, the Gerka, will revenge themselves on him. If he refuses
to talk to us, his penalty will be doubly severe.”
“At least the talk with Dubra did one thing,” said Andy gravely. “We
know for sure that the Goliath is in grave danger and that the man
selected to carry out its destruction has not yet arrived at Bellevue.”