Joe nodded. “Let’s see what’s going on over that way!”
Dropping their buckets, the Hardys jumped into Tony’s pickup truck and sped off toward the animal area.
They leaped out at the gate, scaled over it, and continued down the road leading past the elephant compound. In the moonlit darkness, they could sense the restless movement of animals disturbed by Sinbad’s trumpeting.
As they neared the elephant enclosure, a strange scene met their eyes. At least three men with flashlights groped about the low rocky hillock that bordered the creek running through the compound. Some distance away, a fourth was holding Sinbad and his mates at bay with fiery squirts from a flamethrower!
Frank and Joe were thunderstruck. But neither hesitated. They scrambled over the fence and charged toward the trespassers on the rocky rise. The men saw them and turned to fight. Soon fists were flying.
Though outnumbered, the Hardy boys were well trained in boxing, karate, and other forms of unarmed combat. Nevertheless they quickly realized that they were up against tough, professional thugs. The melee began to go against them.
Then two newcomers joined the fray. One, a pudgy roundhouse swinger, rushed in like an angry bear. The other threw lightning punches at a big-jawed crook who had tried to edge around the Hardys and attack from behind.
“Chet and Leroy!” Joe cried to his brother. With fresh spirit, the Hardys pressed their own attack.
“Look out!” Leroy shouted suddenly. “That dude with the flamethrower’s coming!” He decked his opponent with a right hook, snatched a hefty rock, and hurled it with all his might as the fourth crook started up the hillock toward them.
The rock hit the man in the arm, knocking his flamethrower into the creek below. With a bellow of rage, he charged up the slope at the boys. The free-for-all took on fresh fury.
Once again, the outcome wavered. Frank, who was trading punches with the nearest intruder, glanced toward the elephants as Sinbad filled the night with a fresh trumpet blast.
A dark figure was running toward them past the three angry tuskers.
CHAPTER XX
Stalled Takeoff
FRANK felt a momentary surge of dismay. If the newcomer was one of the gang, he would tilt the odds against them and the fight might be lost!
The man dashed up the slope with long strides, his fists cocked for action. Moonlight gleamed from the visor of his battered white cap. Suddenly Frank realized who the man was.
“Dad!” he cried happily.
Mr. Hardy’s arrival brought fresh hope to the hard-pressed youths and glum despair to the gang as the detective’s fists began crashing among them. One by one, the criminals were knocked to the ground or gave up. Soon they were lined up with their hands in the air.
Just then Tony, Phil, and Biff appeared.
“You’re too late,” Chet crowed, waving his fists overhead like a match-winning boxer. “We’ve rounded up the whole gang!”
“But we could use some light,” Joe said. “How about going back and asking Pop to turn on the lamps in the compound?”
“I think there’s a switch panel in the gatehouse,” Tony reported. “I’ll go see.”
“Good. And look for rope while you’re at it, so we can tie these creeps up!” Frank called.
As Tony ran off, Frank turned to his father. “How did you get here, Dad?” he asked.
“I had a strong hunch the gang was planning something at Wild World tonight,” Fenton Hardy replied, “especially when I spotted a boat pulling in just below the amusement park area.”
“Then you must be the man the watchman saw,” Frank said. “But how did you get over the outer fence without setting off the alarm?”
Mr. Hardy chuckled. “Good question. It’s twelve feet high. But you see, I cleared sixteen as a college pole-vaulter.”
Presently the lights flashed on in the elephant compound, giving a better view of the prisoners. Among them was the dark-haired, heavy-jawed crook with the dimple in his chin who had been one of the two park lurkers described by Chet. Another was the knobby-nosed bruiser whom the Hardy boys had encountered at Sandy Point.
“You were right, Joe,” Frank said. “He must’ve had a car stashed near the cabin.”
Joe nodded. “Yes. He was just trying to swipe our boat so we’d be stuck out there all night.”
“Too bad you didn’t both wind up in that pitfall!” the man growled. “I’d have finished you off then and there.”
“Pipe down!” Mr. Hardy warned, shoving him back in line, “or I’ll finish you off right now!”
The gang had been looking for a satchel hidden in the enclosure. Only a moment before the fight started, they had retrieved it from one of the deep crevices honeycombing the rocky rise along the creek.
The satchel contained explosives and timing devices as well as several letters and other written material. But there was no time to examine them. Tony returned with rope, and Mr. Hardy supervised tying-up the prisoners. Meanwhile, the boys were occupied with another problem.
“How do you suppose these guys got in?” Frank wondered.
“They probably chopped out a section of the rear fence with wire cutters after the second bomb went off and killed the alarm system,” Joe reasoned.
“But that’s wild, mountainous terrain in back of the park. How did they expect to get away afterwards?”
“Maybe some kind of off-the-road vehicle. Once they got back on the highway, they could escape fast enough,” Joe offered.
Frank shook his head doubtfully. “I’m not so sure. They’d be taking an awful chance of being spotted by firemen or police directing traffic. There’ll probably be TV crews and all kinds of gawkers on the road before very long.”
Tony, in fact, had reported that firemen and a highway patrol car had now reached the scene.
“The best way to avoid being trapped would be an aerial getaway,” Joe remarked.
Frank’s eyes suddenly lit up. “You’re right! And I’ll bet that’s exactly what they planned!”
He dashed out of the elephant enclosure. Joe followed, exclaiming, “You mean they’ve got a helicopter waiting outside the park?”
“Not a copter. Something a lot quieter. And talking about getting trapped—remember how we got steered into that pitfall setup at Sandy Point?”
“Well, first we sighted the Scorpio symbol, and then that white line painted on the ground nearby—”
“Right. And remember who thoughtfully made sure we’d see it?”
Joe gasped as his brother’s meaning sank home. But he did not waste time replying. The two hopped into Tony’s pickup, which their friend had driven up, and sped off toward the outer fence enclosing the rear of the animal park.
As expected, a small section had been cut open. Outside this gap in the fence, the glare of their headlights picked out the dark form of a baby blimp!
The boys leaped out of the pickup and ran toward it. The blimp’s gas bags began to fill, and the craft started rising slowly off the ground. But the Hardys struggled to hold it down with their added weight! Joe clung desperately to its landing gear while Frank opened the cabin door and yanked the pilot away from the controls.
Squirming aboard, the older Hardy succeeded in switching on the compressor pump. As the airship’s envelope swiftly deflated, the blimp settled back to earth with a bump!
The pilot fought frantically, his face a mask of rage. But, between them, the Hardys finally overpowered and frisked him. He was Eustace Jarman!
“You confounded pests!” he exploded as the boys gripped his arms.
“Speaking of pests.” Joe chuckled, “I’d say a certain scorpion has stung his last victim!”
“You don’t have any idea who the scorpion is,” Jarman jeered.
“Yes, we do,” Frank answered. “And we’ll be sure when Sam Radley tracks down the firm that made the elephant balloon for you.”
The boys drove Jarman to the elephant enclosure, using his own weapon to keep him cowed. Then a
ll prisoners were taken to the park entrance, where State Police had arrived and were talking to Pop Carter.
The satchel contained crucial evidence. Realizing their position was hopeless, the men broke down and talked freely, despite Jarman’s angry protests.
Several weeks earlier, when Fenton Hardy had discovered the terrorists’ New York hideout, they had fled the city by car. A breakneck chase ensued. For a long time it appeared that they had lost their pursuers, but the police caught up with them again, and the gang desperately turned into Wild World.
It was a gray day with few visitors, so the terrorists seized the opportunity to dump the satchel with its damaging evidence. One of them spotted the rocky crevices near the creek and jumped out of the car long enough to hide the satchel in one of them. They planned to retrieve it as soon as possible, but when they returned to the park about ten days later, they found the site occupied by the newly set-up elephant compound.
Jarman, the gang’s leader, was furious at this turn of events. The written material in the satchel identified the various members and incriminated him as the Scorpion. Though well out of sight in the rocky crevice, the satchel might be discovered by a trainer or park attendant. Jarman realized it must be retrieved at all costs, or he might face disgrace, ruin, and a possible life sentence for his terrorist activities.
“What was a big-shot businessmen like Jarman doing, leading a terrorist outfit?” asked one State Trooper.
“He was sympathetic to a foreign power and was aware of the dirigibles’ military capabilities. The gang was financed by this power, and he used them as a weapon to attack and ruin competitors,” Mr. Hardy replied. “One of them was the Quinn Air Fleet.”
“He wanted to make sure his fleet would have the only serviceable airships in the country,” Frank explained.
The gang had first tried to retrieve the satchel by breaking into the park at night, but had been frustrated by the alarm. Later they had flown in aboard a baby blimp, but again they had drawn a blank when Sinbad’s angry trumpeting brought Pop Carter and the watchmen to investigate.
Joe snapped his fingers. “The blimp was that ‘dark shape’ Pop saw soaring up and away through the trees!”
“And when we came here Monday,” Frank added, “Sinbad must have recognized those two crooks in the car behind us. That’s why he kicked up a fuss!”
“Reckon you’re both right.” Pop chuckled.
Desperate to recover the satchel, Jarman had tried every way possible to force Pop Carter to sell out, including ordering the real-estate firm Bohm worked for, a subsidiary of Jarman Ventures, to buy Wild World.
The Hardys posed a fresh obstacle. The phony code message luring Frank and Joe to Rocky Isle and the Scorpio symbol trick to get them to Sandy Point had both been attempts to use the boys as pawns to force Fenton Hardy off the case.
The detective chuckled. “I’d say they turned out to be considerably more than pawns!” he said ironically.
Jarman’s response was an angry glare at the boys. The dropped note picked up by Leroy had been a deliberate part of the tycoon’s scheme. And the attempt to sabotage the boys’ car, as well as the vinegaroon episode had been other moves to harass the Hardys.
Following their flight from New York, the gang separated and went under cover. Jarman flashed green light signals from the park Ferris wheel instructing the crook hiding out on Rocky Isle to come ashore and transmit the boss’s orders to the other gang members.
With the case closed and all terrorists in custody, Fenton Hardy, his sons, and Chet Morton went to talk to Lloyd Quinn the next day.
When they arrived at the air-fleet terminal, they found Terry Embrow seated glumly in Quinn’s office.
“We’re wondering if you couldn’t see your way clear to keep Terry on,” Mr. Hardy asked the airship owner.
“What? This sneaky young thug!” Quinn roared angrily, glaring at Terry. Then he grinned and added in his normal tone of voice, “He’s one of the best men in my crew! If he can assure me that there will never again be another incident, I’ll keep him on!”
Terry could hardly believe his good luck. He promised good behavior and tried, with a dazed expression, to thank his boss.
“Don’t thank me—thank the Hardys,” Quinn said. “And by the way, fellows, that pipeline company wants to sign a contract right away, chartering the services of our new Arctic Queen, now that they know the real story behind those explosions!”
“Then the sky’s the limit for the dirigible business!” Chet exclaimed enthusiastically. “Speaking of which—how about a sky-high malt, fellows?”
The Sting of the Scorpion Page 12