Trouble in the Pipeline

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "Save it," Carter snarled. "Back off."

  He motioned with his head, and the group began to back up toward the one remaining chopper. Tanook, sensing something was wrong, began to whimper. Carter glared at the dog.

  "You'd better keep that mutt away from us, or we'll kill him," he warned.

  Virgil put a hand on Tanook's head, and the dog fell silent.

  "You can't do this!" Hammond screamed. "Wake up and smell the coffee! If you guys split now, you'll go down in history as traitors. The whole world will know about this. The feds will be after you for the rest of your lives."

  "What are you, running for office?" another one of the managers said. "There's enough here for us all to get away — if we don't have to waste it on saving your crock of a company."

  The three managers continued to back up toward the chopper. Once they reached it, two scrambled to the doors. Carter remained in front, continuing to hold Cindy.

  "Throw your guns over here," he said, digging the barrel of his revolver harder into Cindy's temple.

  Joe and Frank put the safety switches on and tossed their weapons forward. The side door of the chopper slid open, and Carter stepped up, still dragging Cindy along.

  "You're not taking her!" Joe yelled. "There's no point!"

  "I'll toss her out when I'm ready," Carter yelled back. "Just keep your distance and everything will be all right!"

  Joe and Frank watched as the engine of the chopper coughed to life. The blades began to rotate. They could still see Cindy, standing by the side door of the helicopter, Carter holding a gun to her head.

  At the last minute, as the chopper began to lift from the ground, Carter gave Cindy a shove. She landed on her feet and then fell onto her hands. She half ran, half crawled to avoid the overhead blades.

  The copter lifted rapidly, rising to a height of thirty feet. Carter was still standing in the open hatchway, laughing down at the Hardys, Hammond, and Virgil.

  And just at that instant a huge noise erupted within the chopper's belly. The helicopter exploded. Its thin walls blew out, and the rotary blades wobbled wildly into space. The sky filled with glass and chunks of metal. Huge pieces of fiberglass spun through the air like misshapen Frisbees.

  Where there had been a helicopter full of men, there was now a boiling fireball. Smoke roiled around the flames. On the ground Joe yelled, "Down! Quick!" Pieces of wreckage started to rain down from the sky to pierce their bodies like shrapnel.

  Chapter 17

  JOE AND CINDY were protected under a dead bush as the sky gradually emptied itself of debris. Frank, Virgil, and Tanook had found shelter of a sort behind the boulder. Only Hammond remained standing, looking on in stunned silence. Perhaps he thought he was atoning for what he had done.

  "I don't believe it," he said over and over, shaking his head. "What happened?"

  "The money bag must have been booby-trapped," said Joe. "As soon as they reached a certain height, a detonator set off the bomb. It was meant for you, too," he said to Hammond.

  The big redheaded construction boss swallowed hard. "You mean they were going to get rid of us?"

  "That's right," Frank said. "You'd served your purpose. They didn't want you around to talk and foul things up. Human life means nothing to them. Not even their own!"

  "The scary thing is, Scott probably made that bomb," Joe remarked.

  "But we still haven't found him—and we've got to stop the people who have him now," Frank announced. "Any ideas where we should start?"

  Cindy spoke up. "I'm pretty certain most of the North Slope people were hired as hatch men. They open the hatches on the pipe and make sure everything is going smoothly."

  Joe looked at her. "You didn't say that before."

  "I just remembered that that was what I usually typed on their personnel records."

  "Then that's it!" Frank said. "They've put bombs in the hatches. Anything else you remember?"

  Cindy frowned, trying to force anything else out of her memory. "Most of them started working down south, near Valdez. Lately, they've been working in the north, toward Prudhoe."

  Frank nodded. "They probably worked their way right up the pipeline. And now, if they've got to get out of here quickly, they're in range of that submarine up north."

  He stood up. "We've got to get to the pipeline and take a look. Virgil, can you fix that chopper?" He pointed to the Assassin's helicopter, with the parachute snagged in its rotors.

  "Right away," Virgil said. He leapt up on the top of the enemy bird and began to unravel and cut away the mess. "We could hike down the mountain and use mine," he called out as he worked. "But I think it'd take too much time."

  "You're right," Frank said. "We've got to act fast."

  Frank, Cindy, and Hammond gathered rocks to pile over the dead Assassin's body. When the temporary grave was completed, Cindy took a moment to mutter a few words in prayer.

  Suddenly the chopper engine roared to life. Virgil waved from the pilot's seat. They ran over and climbed aboard, grateful for Virgil's expertise. They rose straight up from the mountaintop, then swooped to the south.

  They gained speed and rose up again to get over the Brooks Range. In the early-morning light, the desolate area below seemed totally untouched by humans. But after a brief flight, they were flying over what seemed to be a miles-long brown snake, coiling over the rolling terrain.

  It was a service road cut into the virgin landscape. And next to it was the gleaming pipe, stretching as far as the eye could see.

  Hammond pointed out the first inspection hatch.

  Virgil put the chopper down on the service road. Dust billowed around them as they jumped from the chopper and approached the pipe. Hammond reached out and touched the hatch.

  "You need a special tool to unlock these babies," he said. "I didn't think about that."

  "Wait a minute," Joe said. "I saw something in the back of the copter." He trotted over and reached behind the passenger seat of the Assassin's copter. Standing up, he held up an unusual-looking wrench.

  "Is this what you're talking about?"

  "Bingo," Hammond cried, and he began to unlock the hatch. After several minutes, he unscrewed the final bolt. But the hatch didn't budge. "Stuck," Hammond growled.

  He attacked it again and, with a huge burst of strength, threw the hatch open. Then he stuck his head inside the hole.

  "Don't see a thing," he said, his voice echoing inside the pipe. "Looks fine to me."

  "Let me see," Frank said. He joined Hammond at the edge of the opening. Peering into the darkness, Frank could see nothing. The fierce smell of oil made his head swim, and all he heard was the velvety gurgle of the dark stream rushing inside the pipe.

  Suddenly a loud click sounded in the dark. It seemed to come from the inner wall. Frank glanced to his right and saw something large and heavy splash into the river of oil. He grabbed for it, but he couldn't reach it.

  "Something just fell off the wall of the pipe," he yelled, bringing his head out of the hatch. "It clicked and fell into the oil."

  "Grab it," Joe said.

  Frank held up a filthy hand. "I tried, but it's gone."

  "There shouldn't be anything hanging inside the pipe," Hammond said. "And there's nothing to hang it on."

  "A magnet would hold on to the pipe," Joe said.

  Frank nodded. "Probably an electromagnet that could be turned off by a radio transmitter. I'll bet they still use them in the military."

  His face darkened. "Scott again! They've probably got one of those mines at every hatch."

  "And they've just set them all free now," Joe said. "They're floating in the oil. When they get to the right spots, they'll probably go off."

  "When they get to the pumping stations!" Hammond said. "We're not just talking about some holes and huge oil spills. They want to rip the guts out of the whole system!"

  "Where must we go to stop this?" Virgil asked.

  "I'll bet they've set themselves up inside a pumping station," Frank s
aid. "That way they can monitor the flow of oil to make sure the mines have reached the most vulnerable locations."

  Hammond spoke up. "I hate to say it. I sold them the construction plans to the main pumping station up in Prudhoe. One of their guys is the plant supervisor." He hung his head.

  "That's it!" Frank said. "Let's go!"

  The copter thundered through the air toward the pumping station. Hammond was determined to do his part to make up for his mistake.

  "I know the place inside and out," he said. "I worked on the crew that built it." He turned to Virgil. "Land on the roof. We can go down the climate-control vents."

  Virgil nodded. He brought the chopper over the station and settled it down on the flat asphalt roof. Joe jumped out, and Frank cautiously followed. Hammond started to go, too.

  "We'll take care of this," Joe said. "Stay with Virgil and Cindy. We need you on lookout."

  "What about Frank's leg?" Virgil yelled down.

  "It's about ninety percent, Virgil," Frank yelled back.

  Hammond reluctantly agreed to let the boys go alone. "Okay. Just rip off those screens," he said, pointing to the large, chimney like outlets on the roof. "You can slide down the ducts. The different rooms are labeled on the inside. You'll probably want the control room." He gave quick directions.

  "Thanks," Frank called. "Now get out of here, fast!" Hammond jumped back in the copter, and Virgil took off.

  The Hardys wasted no time. Joe ripped the screen off one duct and climbed in, followed by Frank, who could only crawl on one knee. The other leg he dragged behind him. It was dark inside, but when they came to a vent, light shone in from the space below. They could hear the constant drone of the pumping machinery deep inside the building.

  Sometimes, as they crawled along, muffled voices drifted up from the various rooms they passed. Frank and Joe were careful to make no noise as they crept through the darkness.

  Following Hammond's directions, they dropped down several levels and crawled over the center of the building. Finally they reached a vent marked "Cntrl. Rm."

  The floor was a long way down when they peered through the vent. They were in a high-ceilinged room containing a control booth filled with computer equipment. Two men stood in front of a large panel of controls.

  Joe tapped Frank on the shoulder, then pointed. There was another vent in the room, directly over the booth. They crawled until they could lean over the small grid that covered the opening.

  They listened to the voices below.

  "So, my friend, it's just a matter of minutes before the project is completed." It was the voice of Sandy White. Frank pressed his face against the grid, trying to see who the other person was.

  "It's Scott," he whispered to Joe. "It's Scott and Sandy White!"

  They listened again.

  "Once I push this button, we'll be on our way to the sub. The crew here is on coffee break, so they'll never know what happened. By the time the whole thing blows, we'll be over the Arctic Ocean." White glanced at his watch.

  Frank and Joe gave each other the high sign. This was it. They had to make their move.

  Joe went first. Quietly, he lifted the grid off the vent and placed it to the side. It seemed to take him forever, but he was able to do it without making any noise. Then, drawing himself up in the cramped space of the duct, he leapt headfirst through the hole.

  He flew into White, knocking him back from the control panel. Both of them went sprawling across the floor. As they fell, Joe yelled out, "Scott, we're friends of Doug!" But that's all he had time to say.

  White was immediately up on his knees, jamming an elbow into Joe's solar plexus. Joe groaned and doubled over, trying to catch his breath. But every time he inhaled, his lungs refused to expand. Scott had ducked into the corner, unable to decide what to do.

  Frank came down, feet first, like a cannonball, but White was ready, lashing out with a kick as Frank landed. But Frank threw his arm out and knocked the foot off course. Then, lunging, he grabbed it, twisting the leg and trying to throw White to the ground.

  White twisted his body in midair, bracing himself with the foot Frank held captive and kicking Frank in the face with the other.

  Frank's head snapped back, and he fell, losing his hold.

  White fell to the floor but sprang up immediately and ran for the control panel—or rather, for the little radio transmitter with the big red button that lay there. Joe tackled him and brought him down. But he couldn't pin the man. White wriggled out of Joe's grip, leapt to his feet, and raised, his foot to stomp Joe on the neck.

  Joe rolled out of the line of fire, and White's foot only scraped the side of his head. His ear felt as if it had been ripped off. White again went for the detonator, but this time Scott stepped in. He snatched it away from White and threw the transistor pack to Frank.

  White went after Frank but then stopped.

  "Okay, enough," he said, taking a similar pack out of his pocket. "Your friend here is wired with enough plastic explosive to wreck this room. He's a human bomb! And this is the detonator!" He held the small transistor box in his right hand. "Now give me the switch to the mines, or I'll kill all of us right now."

  Frank looked at Scott. He could see the unmistakable lump taped to his stomach.

  "That's right," White said. "Just like the persuader I used on you. Now give me the switch before I use this one!"

  Frank stared into the madness behind White's eyes.

  "Give it to me!" White screamed. The veins in his neck bulged. His face was red with rage.

  Frank had to gamble. He knew the Assassins were capable of suicide, but he doubted whether a big cheese like White would be expected to make that sacrifice.

  "If you flip that switch, you'll just die, and the pipeline will be back in operation in a month." Frank popped open the little electronic box in his hand and ripped out the wires. "It's over, White. Give up!"

  When White saw the control box destroyed, he looked like a robot who'd been short-circuited. But his moves were still fast. He grabbed Scott and backed out the door of the control booth, holding up the detonator.

  "Stay where you are," he spat. "I can still take your friend with me—and maybe do a little more damage."

  Chapter 18

  JOE LUNGED FOR the door, but his brother grabbed him.

  "Let them go," Frank whispered roughly.

  "Are you out of your mind?" Joe yelled. "He's about to escape. He may even kill Scott just for kicks."

  Frank continued to hold his brother back. "He's less likely to do that if he thinks he's won. Let's give him a chance to escape."

  They ran to the door and watched as White dragged Scott across the floor of the station.

  "See?" Frank told Joe. "We've left his plan in ruins. The mines are useless now, without this." He held up the detonator, its wires and microchips hanging out like an electrician's nightmare.

  "And we know another thing. White isn't about to risk his own life. He proved that in here just now." Frank stared out as the terrorist dragged his captive into the maze of pumping machinery.

  "Yeah, but we're going to lose sight of him, Frank! If he can stash Scott somewhere and get out of the building, he could still trigger the bomb, kill Scott, and do some serious damage." Joe pounded the wall in frustration. Then he stopped. A blueprint of the entire station was thumbtacked right where his fist had landed.

  "Check this out!" Joe said.

  "Quick," Frank said, when he saw what it was. "Where are the exits?"

  "Looks like there're only three, aside from the main one," Joe stated.

  "Remember where they are. Now let's go. We've given him enough time."

  They broke through the door and practically fell down the flight of stairs that led from the control booth to the floor of the pumping station.

  "He went this way!" Joe called as he sprinted across the cement floor toward a jungle of pipes and machinery.

  Frank followed behind as fast as he could, casting a worried look at
the incredibly complicated mass of hardware, with its hundreds of hiding places.

  "Maybe I took a chance letting him go. But I didn't want to push him too far," Frank said as they pushed into the steel jungle.

  Joe was in the lead, but he skidded to a stop when the floor ended. Looking over the edge, they could see two or three stories down. The entire space was filled with pipes, painted green, red, and orange.

  Frank stared down in shock. "That's a bit more hiding space than I counted on."

  The network of pipes filling the vast, dark space looked like the inside of a giant mechanical stomach. Miles and miles of bent, wandering tubes were all humming and gurgling with life.

  But Joe wasn't interested in the looks of the place. His eyes were straining for any sign of motion. "There they are!" His arm stabbed down into the dimness.

  "I see them." Following Joe's arm, Frank instantly caught sight of White and Scott. They looked like miniature figures climbing through a maze of giant tree trunks.

  Joe leapt out onto the first pipe and began to swing to the next one like a monkey. Frank followed, using his arms the whole way.

  "He's taking him down to one of the big compressors," Joe said, leaping from one pipe to the next.

  Frank glanced down and saw them struggling through the endless labyrinth of twisting metal. Scott seemed to have a rope connecting him to White.

  Joe sprang recklessly from pipe to pipe, landing on the narrow surface of one, then crouching down and lowering himself to the one below. It's a lucky thing we have sneakers, he thought.

  When he landed on a pipe without a handhold available he had to keep his balance and not think about what a fall would mean. The image of being knocked from pipe to pipe until he reached the distant floor wouldn't help keep him steady.

  Frank followed more slowly, going hand over hand, keeping his cool in a deadly situation.

  "Do you see them?" he asked.

  Dropping onto a pipe, Joe peered down. "He's reached the compressor, and he's tying Scott to a pipe." He glanced up at Frank. "I'm going after White. You go for Scott—get the bomb off him."