The Mystery of the Black Rhino Page 2

  “Me, too,” Joe said. “ A little super fast running in Manhattan will do that to you.”

  Watson gave them a puzzled look. As he removed two cans from his refrigerator, he asked, “Were you just jogging in the park?”

  “Actually, we were running after some purse snatchers,” Joe said. “Up in Spanish Harlem.”

  Frank explained what had happened. “For a while there, we weren’t sure if we’d make it down here or not.”

  Joe thought he saw a look of apprehension on Watson’s face, but it disappeared almost as quickly has it had appeared.

  “Well, what could I expect from the sons of such a famous detective as Fenton Hardy?” Watson said. He smiled at them. “Of course, I’m sure you must hear that a lot.”

  Watson turned and started taking books off the shelf. “I’ve pulled all of the books from my collection that I think your father can use. I believe the two of you can manage them. I’ll put them in some cloth shopping bags.”

  “Who was that man leaving the shop when we got here?” Joe asked.

  Watson’s hand hesitated just a minute before pulling the final book off the shelf. “His name is, uh, Jackson. He’s a very unpleasant man who I wish would stay away from my shop,” he replied. He turned and gave the Hardy boys a big smile. “What did you actually hear him say?” he asked.

  “He was talking about killing something for you,” Frank said. “He looked pretty serious.”

  “Well, he may be, but I’m not,” Watson said. “Did you see any mounted heads or animal skins when you came into my shop?”

  The Hardy boys shook their heads.

  “There’s a good reason for that. I don’t deal in such things,” Watson continued. “I won’t be a part of the destruction of the world’s wild animals.”

  The Hardy boys had read all about how many of the wild animals in Africa were in danger of extinction because of unscrupulous hunters and poachers.

  “That’s one of the things Dad will be talking about,” Joe said. “He has some ideas that he thinks will help the police forces in East Africa deal with illegal hunters.”

  “We need more people like your father, then,” Watson said. “The situation is getting worse, especially in certain countries.”

  Frank glanced at his watch again.

  “Well, we’d better be going or we’ll miss our ride back to Bayport,” he said. He set his empty soft drink can down on a counter. “Thanks again for lending Dad the books, Mr. Watson. He’ll probably deliver them to you in person when we get back from Kenya.”

  “I’ll certainly look forward to the meeting,” Watson said. He shook hands with both of the boys again. “Have a safe trip.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said.

  As the Hardy boys headed out of Fifth Avenue Africana, Joe took another look around. Even without big-game heads mounted on the wall or stacks of the skins of lions and leopards, there was something about the shop that filled him with excitement. He didn’t know if it was because of all the old movies he had seen on television, but he knew the upcoming trip was going to be a wonderful experience.

  Fifth Avenue was more crowded now than it had been when the boys went into the shop.

  “People are starting to head home,” Frank said, “but I think we can miss the big rush. Come on.”

  They hurried up to Fifty-first Street, then sped across Madison Avenue and Park Avenue. Finally they reached Lexington Avenue and the subway station that would take them back up to Pelham Bay Park.

  They got their tokens and rushed to the uptown platform, getting there just as the Six train pulled in. The train was more crowded this time, so the Hardys had to stand—but they didn’t mind. They rested the bags of books on the floor near their feet, and talked about some of the places they wanted to visit when they were in Kenya.

  “I saw some great things in that shop that I’d like to get Iola, but I want to get them in Africa,” Joe said.

  “Yeah! I think Callie would like some African jewelry,” Frank said. Callie Shaw was Franks best girlfriend in Bayport, although they really hadn’t talked about any dates beyond the next prom. “But I want to get it in Africa, too. At least now, though, I have an idea of what to expect.”

  Joe was looking out the window as the train pulled into a station. “This is Middletown Road Station,” he said. “One more stop before Pelham Bay Park.”

  • • •

  Chet and his aunt Joyce were circling the block in his borrowed convertible. He saw the Hardy boys from the corner, whipped expertly into the noparking zone in front of the subway entrance, and Frank and Joe jumped into the backseat.

  “See! This was no problem at all,” Chet said. “Everything went off without a hitch.”

  Frank and Joe grinned at each other. They decided to wait until the appearance of tomorrow morning’s newspaper before they gave Chet a full account of their uneventful day.

  • • •

  The next day was unbelievably hectic. It started out with Chet showing up at the Hardys’ front door just in time for breakfast, with a copy of The New York Times under his arm.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Chet demanded. He had circled a story on the front page. “You guys helped to break up a big purse snatching ring, and you didn’t tell me about it?”

  Frank and Joe grinned at each other.

  “What’s to tell?” Joe said. “It was all in a day’s work.”

  “How many pancakes would you like, Chet?” Mrs. Hardy asked.

  “Oh, I’ll take whatever’s left,” Chet said.

  “Don’t your parents ever feed you?” Aunt Gertrude asked.

  Everyone in Bayport accepted the fact that Fenton Hardy’s sister said exactly what was on her mind—and she didn’t spare the Hardys her honesty, either. In fact, most of the time, it was Frank and Joe who were the objects of her acerbic remarks. Despite this, they loved her dearly and teased her unmercifully. Their aunt’s remarks never angered them.

  Chet went back to complaining that he didn’t appreciate having to read a newspaper—and an out-of-town one at that!—to find out what his best friends were doing.

  “Seriously, Chet, we really didn’t know what a big deal it was,” Frank admitted. “We just weren’t going to let those punks get away with stealing that woman’s purse.”

  “We didn’t want to sound like we were bragging in front of your aunt, either,” Joe said. “We decided just to let her think that you were more wonderful than we were.”

  “Thanks, guys,” Chet said, rolling his eyes.

  After breakfast some of the rest of the Hardys’ friends arrived to help them get ready for the trip.

  Iola was moping around, teary-eyed, until Joe finally said, “Look, Iola, we’ll be back before you know it. It’s not like we’re leaving Bayport forever.”

  “I know, I know,” Iola assured him. “I’m sorry.”

  Frank had to assure Callie of the same thing.

  At lunchtime Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude interrupted the preparations with some sandwiches, chips, and sodas. By midafternoon, they were finished packing.

  “Our plane leaves Kennedy at eight P.M. It’s a direct flight to Nairobi with one stop in Dakar,” Mr. Hardy said. “Chief Collig will be by in about an hour to take us to the airport.”

  Ezra Collig was the chief of the Bayport Police Department and a good friend of the Hardys. He had offered to take them to the airport, since he had to be in Queens for an evening appointment anyway Frank and Joe thought it might also be because Chief Collig wanted to pick their father’s brain about a case he was working on. Many of the crimes in Bayport were solved after Chief Collig made a visit to Fenton Hardy.

  “I don’t care what time it is here when you get to Kenya,” Mrs. Hardy said. “I want you to call me and let me know that you arrived safely.”

  “We will, Mom,” Frank assured his mother. “But don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  • • •

  Chief Collig arrived promptly at the arranged time.
Frank and Joe and their friends helped pack the police van Chief Collig was driving. They were taking two suitcases and one carry-on bag each.

  Frank and Joe hugged their mother and said good-bye to their friends, promising to send postcards—even though they knew they’d probably beat the postcards back to Bayport.

  They each gave Aunt Gertrude a peck on the cheek. “When you show up at Kennedy in that police van, people will think you’re convicts who are being deported,” she said.

  “Hey! That might be to our advantage,” Joe said. “Maybe nobody will want to sit next to us, and we’ll have more room to stretch out.”

  “You need to care more about your reputation than you do about sleeping,” Aunt Gertrude said.

  Joe grinned at her and gave her another peck on the cheek. He loved pushing his Aunt Gertrude’s buttons.

  “We need to go,” Chief Collig warned them. “The traffic will be heavy as it is.”

  Mr. Hardy got in beside Chief Collig, and Frank and Joe climbed in the back.

  They headed down High Street toward the expressway that would take them to JFK Airport.

  Frank and Joe had been right. Chief Collig was having trouble solving a case involving one of Bayport’s leading businessmen. Some new information had come to light about the man, and Chief Collig wanted Fenton Hardy’s opinion of how it should be handled.

  Normally the Hardy boys would have listened to all of the conversation. The case didn’t happen to be as interesting to them as the upcoming trip to Africa, though, and that’s what the brothers spent the bulk of the drive talking about. By the time they arrived at the international terminal, they had made so many plans, they weren’t sure if they’d have any time in Africa to sleep.

  Aunt Gertrude had been partially right about the way people would react to the van. The police vehicle did raise a few eyebrows, but no one seemed really concerned. Once they had removed their luggage, the Hardys said good-bye to Chief Collig and headed into the terminal toward the check-in for Kenya International Airways.

  “I’m glad there’s this new, more direct flight,” Mr. Hardy said. “If we had to go through Europe, it would take almost eight hours longer.”

  One at a time they presented their passports and tickets, checked their luggage, and got their boarding passes.

  It took them several minutes to get through security, which was very tight. Joe even had to take off his shoes for careful inspection.

  Once through security, Mr. Hardy looked at his watch. “I’m hungry. I’ve been so busy today that I didn’t take time to eat much, and it’ll be a while after we’re airborne before we’re served dinner. What about you boys?”

  Joe shrugged. “Maybe a snack,” he said.

  Frank looked at some of the restaurants just down the hall from where they were standing. “I’m not starved, either, but I could probably eat something.”

  They finally decided on one of the fast food restaurants.

  After Frank and Joe had finished their hamburgers and fries, they decided that maybe they should eat a second burger, too, in case the flight was delayed and dinner wasn’t served until late.

  Just as they were each finishing their second hamburger and had considered going for a third one, their flight was announced.

  “That’s us,” Mr. Hardy said. “Let’s go.”

  They threw their trash in a garbage pail on the way out of the restaurant and headed toward Gate 43 for their flight to Nairobi.

  Just as they passed Gate 42 someone rushed passed them, bumping Frank out of the way.

  “Hey!” Frank said. “Watch it!”

  Joe stopped walking. “Frank! Look!” he whispered. “That’s Jackson! The guy from Fifth Avenue Africana!”

  The Hardy boys watched as Jackson stopped at Gate 43 to get in line to board the flight to Nairobi.

  3 Two of the Engines Are Gone!

  * * *

  “What’s wrong?” Fenton Hardy asked.

  Frank told him about the encounter with the man in Fifth Avenue Africana.

  “We didn’t mention it before, Dad, because it didn’t seem all that important at the time,” Joe added.

  “Well, it may not even be important now. The man obviously has connections to Africa,” Mr. Hardy said. “He would probably have a good reason for taking a flight to Kenya.”

  “Mr. Watson implied Jackson had offered to bring him mounted heads of big game,” Frank said, “and even the skins of some animals in danger of extinction.”

  Fenton Hardy shook his head in dismay. “I can’t believe there are still people around the world who think how they furnish their home is more important than the future of these endangered animals.”

  When they arrived at Gate 43, the Hardys got in line to board.

  “I hope he’s not sitting close to us,” Joe whispered. “That face will give me nightmares.”

  Frank nodded his head in agreement.

  Fortunately when they took their seats in first class, Jackson was nowhere in sight. Frank and Joe were sitting in side-by-side leather seats. Mr. Hardy was directly across the aisle. No one as yet was sitting in the window seat beside him.

  A flight attendant dressed in what Joe thought might be native Kenyan attire handed them hot cloths.

  “Oh, that feels good,” Frank said, as he wiped his face and hands with the steaming cloth. He turned to Mr. Hardy. “I could get used to being pampered like this.”

  Mr. Hardy grinned. “Well, I figured that we’d be more rested if we flew first class. I didn’t want us to be tired when we got there, and the eight-hour time difference will create enough problems as it is. I just hope I don’t fall asleep in the middle of one of my talks.”

  The same flight attendant now was handing them some delicious-looking snacks and mango juice. “This will get you ready for our food in Kenya,” she said in an accent.

  “Great!” Joe said. “I’m starving.”

  Mr. Hardy looked across the aisle, raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, but didn’t say anything.

  Frank took a bite of one of the snacks. “Mmm!” he said. “What’s this called?”

  “Samosa,” the flight attendant said. “It’s deep-fried pastry filled with chopped meat and vegetables.”

  Just as the Hardy boys were finishing their second round of Kenyan snacks and fruit juice, the plane began taxiing for takeoff. They put their trays in the upright position and leaned back to enjoy the thrill they always got when a speeding plane forced them back into their seats.

  “This must be how astronauts feel,” Joe said as the Kenya International Airways plane raced down the runway. He put his hands on the armrests and pretended that he was heading to the moon.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Frank said.

  Joe looked over at him. “What’s the matter? You usually like takeoffs as much as I do.”

  “Nothing,” Frank said. He didn’t admit that he was preoccupied. For some reason, he was wondering what Jackson was thinking right now. In fact, he now wished that they were sitting close to him. He’d feel better if he could keep an eye on him all night.

  The Hardy boys decided that flying first class was almost like having your own personal staff of flight attendants. Their attendant seemed to anticipate their every wish. She gave them handheld video games to play and sports magazines to read while they waited for dinner.

  Dinner itself was delicious. When Frank and Joe asked what each dish was called, they were given the Swahili names of the foods. One of the flight attendants gave Frank a Swahili phrase book.

  “Here’s a CD and player that you can listen to also,” she said.

  Instead of watching the movie, Frank studied tourist Swahili. When he was finished, he turned to Joe. “You should listen to this, too,” Frank said to his brother. “You never know when the language might come in handy.”

  “They speak English in Kenya, too,” Joe reminded him, “so I’ll just stick to that.”

  “Typical attitude,” Frank said.

  “Okay, then I�
�ll let you translate for me,” Joe said.

  Frank shook his head and decided to listen to the CD again. Joe was engrossed in the movie. It was one that Frank had taken Callie to see, and he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing it again. He looked over at his father. Mr. Hardy’s reading light was on, and he was poring over one of the books that Mr. Watson had lent him.

  When the movie was over, the flight attendants turned down the lights and brought pillows and blankets for everyone. Some passengers, like Fenton Hardy, still had on their overhead lights—but each delivered only a narrow stream of illumination to the seat directly beneath it, so readers didn’t disturb napping passengers nearby.

  Frank stood up and started toward the restroom, but someone a couple of seats ahead got there first.

  “It’s all right if you want to use one of the others toward the back of the aircraft,” one of the flight attendants told him.

  “Oh, no, that’s . . . ,” Frank started to say, then changed his mind. “Well, if it’s okay.” It had suddenly occurred to him that this would be a great opportunity to check out where Jackson was seated.

  He returned to his seat and told Joe what he was doing.

  “I think I need to go, too, before I go to sleep, so I’ll come with you,” Joe said.

  The curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane had already been drawn, but the Hardy boys parted it and headed toward the rear of the aircraft.

  They were sure that the flight attendants wouldn’t be watching them, so they decided it wouldn’t really be necessary to stop at the first restroom. They wanted to locate exactly where Jackson was sitting.

  The lights all over the aircraft had been dimmed, so the boys weren’t noticed as they conducted their search.

  “I don’t know why this is so important to me,” Frank whispered. “I’ll just feel better if I know where he is, I guess.”

  “I agree,” Joe said.

  They passed one set of restrooms in the middle of the aircraft that were unoccupied, but continued toward the back of the plane. They found Jackson near the rear of the cabin. He was sitting on the aisle in the last row of seats. He seemed to be asleep, but the Hardy boys didn’t take a chance. They passed him without looking too closely. Both restrooms were unoccupied so Frank used one, and Joe used the other.