Frank looked at him, trying to penetrate Doyle's aviator shades with his gaze. He chose his words carefully. "I'm a guy who needs your help. I can't make you help me - I can't even ask you. I wouldn't ask anybody to risk his life flying into a target area during a naval barrage."
Frank slapped the release button on the shoulder straps of the copilot's seat. "My brother's on Kahoolawe, and that's where I'm going. If you won't take me, I'll figure out some other way to get there."
He started to take off the headset. Doyle's voice came through the earphones. "Hold on a second. You didn't answer my question. Who are you?"
"What difference does it make?" Frank asked.
The pilot grinned. "If we're going to get killed together, we should be on a first-name basis, don't you think?" He took his right hand off the control stick and held it out. "My friends call me Skydog."
Frank grasped Doyle's hand. "Thanks," he sighed. "My name's Frank Hardy. Whatever it costs, I'll find some way to pay you."
Doyle pulled back on the control stick and the helicopter banked up and away from the pier. "Forget it." He laughed. "If I had a dollar for every grunt I pulled out of a fire zone, I'd be a rich man. Besides, I can't stand those armchair admirals and their pretend wars. Somebody should put some howitzers on that island and start shooting back. That'd give them something to put in their reports!"
Frank watched as Doyle worked the controls. It looked a lot like flying an airplane - except there seemed to be an extra lever by the left side of the seat. All of the pilot's controls were also duplicated on the copilot's side. Frank glanced over to his left and saw a lever next to his seat, too. He reached down and touched the handgrip.
"You know anything about flying?" Doyle suddenly asked.
Frank shrugged. "I took a few lessons back home. I could land a single-engine plane if I had to, but this looks a lot trickier."
That was an understatement. The dizzying array of dials, gauges, and switches were a total mystery to Frank.
Doyle nodded. "It takes a special breed to be a chopper jockey. Helicopters can do a lot of things airplanes can't - like hover, fly backward, and take off and land vertically. So they need more controls. It takes two hands and two feet all working together to fly this baby."
He patted the control stick in front of him. "This is the cyclic pitch control. Moving this changes the angle of the main rotor blades. You push it forward and you go forward. You pull it back, and you go backward. Simple, right?"
"So far," Frank replied. "But how do you turn?"
The pilot pointed at his feet. "See those pedals?
80
They control the tail rotor. Press one and you increase the tail rotor thrust, and you turn one way." He pushed down on the left pedal and the helicopter banked to the left. "Press the other, and you decrease the tail thrust."
"And you turn right - right?" Frank said.
"You got it," Doyle replied. "Now all you need to know is how to make it go up and down."
Frank smiled. "I bet that lever next to the seat is the missing ingredient."
"Right again," Doyle said. "That's the collective pitch control. Pull it up, and up we go." He gripped the lever and pulled. The helicopter soared upward.
Then abruptly he pushed the lever down. The helicopter swooped in a steep dive. Frank's stomach felt as if it had just jumped into his throat. He clutched at the control stick in front of him. It was the closest thing he could hang onto.
The bearded pilot eased the lever up, and the helicopter pulled out of the dive just before they hit the water. "Yee - ha!" he yelled. "This is the only way to travel!" The waves rushed by just a few feet beneath them.
Frank realized a good-size swell could easily swamp them. "Shouldn't we pull up a little?" he suggested, trying to sound cool and casual. "Like maybe to an altitude where we might show up on the navy's radar?"
Doyle laughed. "Great idea, kid! Let's take her up where we can get a real close look at some of those sixteen-inch shells that the sailors like to throw at Kahoolawe."
"If they know we're here," Frank said, "they won't fire, right?"
"I wouldn't bet my life on it," the pilot answered. "Let's give them a call and see what happens." He thumbed a switch on the control panel and spoke into the microphone. "Mayday! Mayday! This is Victor Able one five niner. We have lost hydraulic pressure and are going down on Kahoolawe."
There was a long pause. Static hissed through the headset. Then another voice crackled in Frank's ears. "Ah, say again, Victor Able one five niner. We didn't copy that."
"Mayday!" Doyle barked. "We are making an emergency landing on Kahoolawe!"
There was another static-filled pause, and then, "Ah, negative on that, Victor Able. You are entering a restricted flight zone. There is a naval exercise in progress. Alter course immediately. Do not, repeat, do not land on Kahoolawe."
The pilot looked at Frank and shrugged. He reached over to the control panel and flipped the radio switch on and off rapidly as he spoke into the microphone. "Signal breaking up. We did not copy last message. Repeat - we are going down on Kahoolawe. Mayday! Mayday!"
He shut off the radio and turned to Frank.
"Maybe that will confuse them long enough for us to get in and out."
Frank heard a hollow whistling sound, and something whizzed by overhead. He looked at the island ahead and saw a patch of ground erupt in a spray of dirt and smoke.
"I wouldn't bet my life on it," he replied grimly.
Chapter 10
Joe and Jade huddled beside a small outcropping of rock. The ground shook every time one of the heavy shells exploded. Even though the action seemed to be focused on another part of the island, Joe didn't want to take any chances.
Jade put her hand on his arm. "Tell me again," she said, "about how somebody is going to find us."
Joe listened to the steady krump krump krump in the distance. He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought the noise was getting louder.
He patted Jade's hand and pointed to the beach. He had spread the rainbow-colored parachute on the ground, holding down the edges with football-size rocks. "From the air, anybody can see that. It's as good as a flare gun or a signal fire."
A shell exploded close by with a deafening roar that left Joe's ears ringing. Jade's fingernails dug into his arm.
"Tell me how we're going to survive until then!" she shouted.
"That was just a stray shot," Joe tried to reassure her. "They're concentrating all their firepower inland. All we have to do is sit tight."
There was another earsplitting blast nearby. Sand and pulverized rock showered down around them. The air was full of dark smoke and dust.
***
Frank spotted something down on the rocky beach. He heard the telltale whistling again, and then another chunk of the island was smashed into a rain of pebbles and dust. When the smoke cleared, whatever had been there was gone. Still, he thought it was worth a look.
He tapped the pilot's shoulder and pointed. "Take us down there! I thought I saw something."
Doyle nodded and moved the control stick. The helicopter turned and raced down the shoreline. Frank scanned the beach. Nothing but sand and boulders. A splash of color caught Frank's eye.
"Hold it!" he yelled. "Go back! There is something back there!"
Doyle's feet shifted on the pedals. The helicopter circled around and set down on the rocky beach.
Frank jumped out and picked up a strip of yellow cloth. There were other scraps of material scattered in the sand. He recognized the rainbow colors of the parachute. There was nothing left but confetti. Frank shuddered. He prayed that Joe and Jade weren't anywhere near the parachute when the explosion ripped into it.
Somebody coughed. Frank whirled and saw a ghost - at least it looked like a ghost. The figure was grayish white from head to toe. It coughed again. "About time you got here," it rasped.
Another dusty figure crawled out from behind a small rock outcropping.
Frank stare
d at them. "Joe? Jade? Is that you?"
"Who else were you expecting?" Joe replied hoarsely. "The Ghost of Christmas past?"
"You look horrible," Frank gasped. "Are you all right?"
Joe looked down at himself. "Yeah, I think so." He tried to brush off some of the dust, and a small cloud puffed up around him. He coughed again. "I could use a bath, though."
***
"So where are we going?" Hank Doyle asked after Frank introduced Joe and Jade, and they had flown some distance away from the small, scorched island. "Back to Maui?"
Frank looked at Joe and Jade in the backseat of the helicopter. "We've got to figure out our next move."
"Let's fly back to Oahu," Joe suggested. "We'll go have a little talk with Nick Hawk."
He cracked his knuckles. "I'll give him five or ten good reasons to call off the dogs."
Frank shook his head. "Something tells me this goes way beyond Nick's gambling problems. They were double-teaming us back on Maui - first the guys in the car, and then the two goons in the speedboat."
Joe could see where his brother was leading. "That means somebody with heavy mob connections or a lot of money to burn on hired guns."
"Or both," Frank said.
"So what do we do now?" Jade asked. "We can't stay in this helicopter forever."
"We need to buy some time to come up with a plan," Frank said. "We need a place where nobody can find us for a while."
"I know just the place," the pilot said. He looked at the fuel gauge and tapped it with his finger. "We might just have enough fuel to make it."
"Might?" Joe responded. "What happens if we don't?"
Doyle chuckled. "Then we get wet!" He worked the foot pedals, and the helicopter banked hard to the left.
Frank glanced at the fuel gauge. The needle was still close to F. The tank was almost full. Frank smiled. Doyle had a weird sense of humor, but he was beginning to like him. "Cheer up, Joe," he said. "You said you needed a bath, anyway."
***
They were in the air for over an hour. Frank checked the position of the sun and guessed they were headed northwest. They flew over the small island of Lanai. They saw Molokai in the distance. Oahu passed by on the right. After that, there was nothing but blue for a while. Blue sky above them, and blue ocean below.
Finally a lush, green island loomed ahead.
Jade pointed out the window. "That's Kauai. They call it the garden island. That must be where we're going."
"What makes you think that?" Joe asked.
"Because if it isn't," Doyle answered, "it's an awfully long way to the next island big enough to land on." He turned to Frank and grinned. "Hang on - we're going in hard!"
The helicopter banked to the right and swooped down toward the island. As they got closer, Frank could see a vast, tropical jungle.
"Yee - hah!" the pilot whooped, skimming the tops of the trees. "I love this job! It's the most fun you can have without getting shot at."
Frank spotted a small cabin in a clearing in the jungle. Doyle pulled back on the stick, and the helicopter slowed down. It hovered over the clearing for a moment. Then he pushed down on the lever at his side, and the flying machine eased to the ground.
Doyle cut the engine power and unbuckled his safety harness. "One of the fringe benefits," he said, gesturing at the small cabin surrounded by forest, "is being able to live someplace where you never get uninvited visitors."
They all got out of the helicopter. Joe looked around. Something was missing. "Is there a road anywhere near here?" he asked.
"Depends on what you mean by near - and what you mean by road," Doyle replied. "There's an old dirt trail about a mile from here. I guess you could run a four-wheeler down it."
"So you can get here only by helicopter," Frank said.
"You got it," the pilot answered. He opened the cabin door. "Welcome to Chateau Doyle. Try to ignore the mess. It's been a while since any guests have been here."
They followed him inside. "Looks like it's been a while since anybody has been here," Jade said.
There were cobwebs everywhere, and a faint mildew smell filled the air. The sparse wood furniture looked handmade, Frank noticed. Probably carved from trees that grew in the area.
"Well, it has been a while since I was last here," Doyle admitted. "I don't really live here anymore. I just use it as a retreat - a place to chill out when the world gets too weird."
"Like now?" Joe ventured.
A grin spread across the pilot's bearded face.
"Are you kidding? I can't remember the last time I've had so much fun."
"Well, all this fun is making me hungry," Joe said. "I don't suppose you've got anything to eat in the refrigerator. That is, if you have a refrigerator."
Doyle laughed and slapped Joe on the back. "Let me show you the kitchen. We've got all the modern comforts. Refrigerator, stove, trash compactor - "
'Trash compactor?" Jade echoed.
'Sure," Doyle replied. "There's not a lot you can do with garbage. You can either bury it in the yard and end up living next to a dump, or - "
"Or you can haul it away," Frank cut in. "And if you have to carry it away in a helicopter that doesn't have a lot of extra space, a trash compactor makes a lot of sense."
"What do you do for power?" Joe asked. "I bet the electric company doesn't run any lines out here."
"If they did," Doyle answered, "I'd have neighbors pretty soon, and then I'd have to move. There's a diesel generator out back. It's not much, but it'll give us all the power we need. Come on, I'll show you."
He started to walk to the door and then stopped. He scratched his beard. "Of course, it isn't going to start without any fuel in it." He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well, it doesn't matter. Any food in the refrigerator would be pretty rank by now, anyway. So I'll just have to jump in the old station wagon and drive down to the Food 'n' Fuel."
"You want any company?" Frank asked.
The pilot waved him off as he headed out the door toward the helicopter. "Nah. You just hang loose for a while. I'll be back before you know it."
***
For the next few hours, while Joe and Jade sat in the cabin, talking, Frank stared out into the forest and reviewed the case. He glanced at his watch finally and started to get worried. Doyle hadn't returned and the sun was getting low in the sky. He doubted that even Skydog could find the cabin in the middle of the jungle in the dark.
Joe didn't notice the time go by - he was too busy talking to Jade. Eventually he did notice that something was bothering his brother. He walked up behind him and put his hand on Frank's shoulder. "What's up?" he asked.
"Doyle should have been back," Frank answered.
Joe shrugged. "Maybe he had too many items for the express check-out lane. Besides, it's given me a chance to find out some interesting things."
"Like what?" Frank replied. "Jade's favorite rock band? Her shoe size?"
Joe put his hand over his heart. "You wound me." He glanced over at the girl and then turned back to his brother. "Let's go outside and get some fresh air." He held the door open for Frank and then followed him out.
"So what'd you find out?" Frank asked.
"Do you know why Jade's father doesn't like her surfing?" Joe answered Frank with another question.
"Because it's dangerous?"
"No. Because of the publicity."
Frank frowned. "Replay that for me."
"When Jade first started to get known in competition, some dinky surfing magazine did a feature on her. She gave them this old picture of herself with her first surfboard. It was a present from her father - and he was in the picture, too. When her old man saw the article, he almost grounded her for life."
Frank pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "You mean this picture?"
Joe looked at it. "Where did you get that?"
"Off one of those thugs that took you and Jade for a joyride," Frank replied.
"It all starts to fit together, doesn't it?" Joe said
.
"Yeah," Frank agreed. "No family, no past, no publicity - sounds like Kevin Roberts has been on the run for the past fifteen years."
"And whoever he was running from finally caught up with him," Joe added.
Frank looked at his brother. "There's something else bothering me."
"What's that?"
"How did those hoods back on Maui know where to find us?"
The whup-whup-whup of a helicopter cut through the air.
"Doyle's back," Joe said.
Frank looked up and spotted the helicopter close by. Something was wrong! It was weaving through the air, its tail swinging from side to side. Then it just dropped.
Chapter 11
Frank could tell the helicopter was coming down too fast. It hit the ground hard. The landing skid on the left side smashed down first. The struts groaned and buckled. Then the machine rocked the other way. The right skid smacked the ground, bounced up, and finally settled down.
The whine of the engine died down. Frank and Joe bolted toward the cockpit. Frank yanked open the door. Hank Doyle grinned out at him. "Sorry I'm late," he said. The smile wavered. "But the traffic was murder."
Frank poked his head into the cockpit. "Are you okay?" he asked the pilot.
Doyle nodded. "Yeah, but I think I've dodged enough artillery for one day."
Joe peered in over his brother's shoulder and saw a single bullet hole in the windshield. "Something tells me this isn't the work of a disgruntled customer," he said. "So maybe you should tell us exactly what happened."
"I flew back to Maui to pick up some gear. A guy showed up at the hangar just as I was getting ready to head back here," Doyle replied. "He wanted to know where you were. I made a break for it, but he managed to shoot off a couple rounds before I got the chopper off the ground."
"Why'd you come all the way back here?" Frank asked. "Why not just head for the nearest police station?"
Doyle snorted. "Because he was the police. He flashed an FBI badge at me before he started asking questions."
Fright Wave Page 6