No Clues
On leaving the hospital after questioning the agent of the Gerka, Andy,
Bert and the secret service chief walked over to Andy’s office. There
they discussed plans for additional precautions in the guarding of the
Goliath.
“I’m convinced now,” said Andy, “that the plane we sighted this
afternoon was a Rubanian ship. Either the pilot had made a non-stop
flight across the Atlantic or he stopped at some remote place where
there was little chance that news of his landing would spread, took on
additional fuel, and continued here.”
“The fact that we were up sky-larking may have prevented a bomb attack
on the Goliath,” said Bert.
“That’s possible,” conceded Timms, “but I doubt that Rubania would dare
to use such an open and violent method. An air attack would mean war
with popular sentiment of the world with the United States.”
“A more likely explanation,” said Andy, “is that the agent who is to
carry on the actual campaign of destruction against the Goliath arrived
in the plane we sighted.”
“I’m inclined to believe as you do,” Timms told Andy. “Our first step,
after doubling the guards around Bellevue, will be to trace this strange
craft. I’m hopeful that the radio appeal will bring results.”
“I know it will,” said Bert confidently.
“Dad will be back within a day or two,” said Andy, “and I’ll be mighty
glad to turn the responsibility of this whole affair over to him. When
he’s back on the job, we’ll take a whirl at finding this unknown agent
of the Rubanian Gerka who is to destroy the Goliath,” he told Bert.
Timms was busy with a long-distance call to the department of justice in
Washington, informing his chief there of the latest development at
Bellevue. When he finished, he turned to talk with Andy and Bert.
“Half a dozen army pursuit planes, fully equipped for combat, will drop
down here tomorrow morning,” he said. “They’ll remain until the Goliath
is ready to take the air and after that at least two of them will
accompany the big ship on all of its trial flights. In addition, an
anti-aircraft battery with complete night lighting equipment will arrive
before sundown tomorrow.”
“That ought to insure us against the success of any attack from the
air,” said Andy.
“From the air, yes,” conceded Timms, “but our danger will lie from an
attack within. Everyone who comes on the reservation from now on will be
doubly checked.”
By ten o’clock that night every possible precaution to safeguard the
Goliath had been taken. The military guard around the grounds of the
National Airways reservation had been doubled, and extra watchmen had
been placed at the hangar. It didn’t seem humanly possible for anyone to
get within the lines without discovery.
Descriptions of the mysterious plane had been broadcast hourly from the
principal radio stations and a mass of information had been received,
telegrams having been relayed from the radio stations to which they had
been sent.
These messages were checked, one by one, against the large map which had
been hung on one wall of Andy’s office. On this map had been worked out
the probable course of the strange plane. It had come out of the
northeast, swung over the home of the Goliath, and then darted away in a
southeasterly direction, heading toward the mountains.
Telegrams which failed to indicate a plane in this general line of
flight were consigned to the wastebasket. The few that might furnish
information were studied carefully but in a majority of cases the
description of the plane which the sender of the message had seen failed
to come close to that of the machine they sought.
Timms found several messages which appeared worth telephone calls to the
senders but on each occasion he was doomed to disappointment.
“I thought you said we’d have some definite news before midnight,” he
told Bert.
“There’s nearly two more hours,” replied the radio operator hopefully. “I
won’t concede defeat until the last minute.”
Timms snorted and turned to another handful of telegrams that had just
been forwarded. He was half-way through the pile when an exclamation
brought Andy and Bert to his side.
“Read that,” said the secret service agent, tossing a yellow sheet to
them.
The message had been sent from Alden, a small town in the mountains of
southeast Kentucky.
“Plane crashed near here early tonight. Description appears to tally
with that broadcast. From wreckage it must have been a low-winged
monoplane, painted gray. No trace found of pilot.” The message was
signed by Frank Hacke, editor, the Alden Advocate.
“Who said the radio wouldn’t bring results?” demanded Bert. “This message
looks like a real tip.”
“It does,” agreed Timms, reaching for the phone and placing a long
distance call for the editor of the Alden paper.
Half an hour elapsed before the operator was able to get the call
through and Timms fumed with impatience. When the wire was finally
cleared for his conversation, he fairly leaped at the telephone.
Question after question was fired over the wire and Andy and Bert, from
the very tenseness of Timms’ attitude, knew that the secret service man
was getting valuable information. His final words were highly
significant.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible. If I can fly in, have auto lights
turned on to mark the boundaries of a field that is safe for a landing.”
Timms banged the receiver on the hook and turned to Andy and Bert.
“We’ve found the wreckage of the gray plane,” he said. “It smacked into
the side of a mountain about three miles from Alden. The editor of the
paper was one of the first ones to reach the scene but they were unable
to find any trace of the pilot. We’ve got to get to Alden at once for we
mustn’t let that flyer get away. He’s the man who is slated to bring
about the actual destruction of the Goliath.”
The words rang through Andy’s head. The pilot had somehow escaped in the
crash. It was possible to crack up a ship without injury but it was more
likely that the man they sought had jumped while the plane was in
flight, drifting down in his chute and leaving the plane to crash to its
own destruction.
Andy heard Timms asking if he could fly him to Alden that night. He
replied almost mechanically and then hastened out of the office and down
the field to rout out several mechanics, who rolled his red sportster
out on the concrete apron and checked it thoroughly. The motor sent
echoes blasting through the stillness of the night as Andy himself
tested it.
He was joined several minutes later by Bert and the secret service
agent.
Timms climbed into the forward cockpit and Bert started to crowd in with
him.
“Sorry, Bert,” called Andy. “You’ll have to stay on the ground this
trip. The Ace is only a two-place job and I can’t afford to overtax its
capacity tonight. I’ll need all my speed and climbing ability in dodging
over the mountains.”
Bert was keenly disappointed but he knew the truth of Andy’s words and
he dropped back to the ground.
“I’ll warn Alden that you’re coming by air,” he said, “and they’ll be
sure to have a field marked in some way.”
“Fine,” yelled Andy. “See you tomorrow.”
Flame licked around the exhaust vent of the motor as Andy opened the
throttle. The Ace came to life with a quick flirt of its tail. The
riding lights gleamed sharply in the night; then were swallowed in the
haze of dirt swept up from the field by the wash of the propeller.
Alden was just a little under an hour of fast flying from Bellevue and
Andy opened the Ace up until they were skimming through the half clear
night at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. The lights of Bellevue
disappeared as if blotted out by the hand of an unseen giant and they
were alone in the sky.
Andy had plotted a compass course and he followed it closely for Alden
was tucked away in the mountains and he could easily miss the village if
slightly off course.
By the end of the first half hour the clouds had cleared and a thin moon
tried vainly to dissipate the blackness of the night. Lights on the
ground were few and far between with midnight almost at hand. The air
was raw and Andy snuggled deeper into the sheepskin he had donned for
the trip. He checked the time and compass again. Alden should show on
the horizon any moment if his calculations were correct. Another two
minutes passed and he sighted a glow of light to the left. He nosed the
Ace over and dropped lower.
Lights below flashed on and off. He blinked his riding lights and those
on the ground answered. There was no way of detecting the direction of
the light wind and Andy had to take a chance that there were no bad
ground currents. He skimmed over the field to determine its length. It
appeared to be on a side-hill for level stretches of land were few and
far between in that section of the state. The field was long enough for
an easy landing and he cut the motor and slid down the invisible trail.
He was going in too fast and he opened the throttle and zoomed into the
sky for another try. The second time he stalled all the way down,
drifted over the top of the car whose lights marked the near end of the
field, and dropped to an easy landing. He swung the Ace around and
taxied back over the uneven field. A group was waiting when they climbed
down from the cockpits.
Fred Hacke, the editor, stepped up and introduced himself. With him was
Sheriff Jud Barnes, a six foot two man of the mountains who was proud of
his great, booming voice.
“Get in my car,” said the sheriff, “and I’ll run you over to the hill
where that airplane busted.”
For half an hour they bounced over a rough mountain road and were glad
enough when the sheriff stopped the car and led the way through a patch
of timber. The grade was steep and they were compelled to rest several
times. Finally they came to a small clearing, crossed this and just
beyond saw a darker mass against the trees. The sheriff turned his
flashlight on a tangled pile of cloth and metal, the broken remnants of
the machine Andy had chased only a few hours before.
The editor and his party came up and they made a thorough inspection of
the wreckage. Motor numbers and the name of the maker had been filed
away, the plates on the fuselage had been removed and every means of
absolute identification taken off. In spite of this Andy and the secret
service agent were positive that the plane was of Rubanian make and that
an agent of the Gerka had been at the controls when it had been sighted
at Bellevue.
“We haven’t found the flyer yet,” said the sheriff. “Maybe he spilled
out somewhere before the wreck. We’ll search the hills in the morning.”
“I don’t think it will do any good,” replied Andy. “The chap that was
flying this machine undoubtedly took to his parachute. He may have
landed some miles away. If the controls were locked before he jumped,
the ship could have cruised alone for three or four minutes on a quiet
night like this.”
“We’ll have a look anyway,” said the sheriff, and Andy and Timms decided
to remain at least until noon to see if the searching parties discovered
anything of importance.
They returned to Alden, took a room at the hotel, and slept until dawn.
Andy went out to the field where they had landed and went over the Ace
carefully while Timms accompanied the sheriff into the hills.
The secret service agent returned at noon and announced that the search
had proved fruitless. There were no more clues, either at the scene of
the wreck or in the nearby hills, and they decided to return to Bellevue
at once.
Andy got the Ace off the improvised airport without trouble and they
headed for home through the bright rays of the spring sun. As they sped
over the tree-covered hills, Andy flew mechanically, his mind busy on
the new problem which confronted them. There was no question now. The
Goliath was in serious danger and every means at their command must be
used to protect the great airship, destruction of which would mean the
ruin of the National Airways, which had invested millions in its
construction. But more than the mere financial loss which it would mean
was the month of labor by the loyal crew, the years of planning on the
part of his father and Captain Harkins, and his own love for the great
craft.
An attack from the air was improbable for the Rubanian agent had wrecked
his own plane deliberately. Whatever happened would be caused by someone
who had easy access to the hangar and Andy resolved that he would be
doubly vigilant in the days to come.