In Plane Sight Page 4

  “I know this may come as news to you, Dale,” Brooks said, “but I have needs too. One of the things I need is for my company not to go broke. I’ve struggled over the years, and I’ll make it through this setback too. Perhaps when things turn around, I’ll still hire you—if you can control your temper.”

  “Whether I control my temper depends a lot on what you have to say,” Grissom replied.

  “My situation has changed,” Brooks said. “I can’t afford to hire you now. If I did, I might very well sink the company.”

  “That ain’t fair,” Grissom said. “I was counting on that money.”

  “And I was counting on a number of circumstances that failed to materialize,” Brooks said. “I sympathize with your situation, Dale. In fact I fear that I’m nearly in the same situation myself.”

  “Nearly,” Grissom snarled. “Ha!”

  Brooks straightened his endorsement-covered jacket. “If you’re hard up for cash, perhaps you should consider selling your airplane,” he said. “Sullivan customs are gaining popularity in the market right now. You could buy a smaller plane and still have plenty left to cover your bills.”

  “I’d rather run you into the ground than sell my plane,” Grissom said.

  “Fortunately, I won’t give you that chance,” Brooks said. He stepped back and held up his fists to fight.

  Grissom lunged forward and tackled him.

  The two aviators were rolling around on the ground when the Hardys ran out from between the buildings. Joe grabbed Grissom, and Frank took hold of Brooks. The brothers pulled the two combatants away from each other.

  “Back off!” Joe said.

  “Get out of here!” said Grissom. “This is between that lying scum and me.”

  “Keep this up, and it’ll be between you and the cops,” Joe replied.

  The younger Hardy’s words brought both men to a halt. The two aviators stopped struggling, and the brothers let them go.

  “This isn’t over between us,” Grissom said to Brooks.

  “Have your lawyers look into it if you like,” Brooks replied. “I’ve done nothing illegal. If you touch me again, though, I’ll sue.”

  The two glared at each other before heading down the alley in opposite directions.

  “Well,” Joe said, watching them go, “we’ve had a break-in, a stolen plane, and now a fistfight. How do they all fit together?”

  “Maybe they don’t,” Frank said. “Any show this big is bound to have some conflicting personalities. Let’s round up some food and get back to Jamal.”

  They walked up the alley a short way and cut between two cinder block buildings to get to the airport commissary. The cafeteria was far too small to serve all the show attendees, so a big tent had been set up in front of it to deal with the overflow. A chow line inside the cinder block house doled out bacon and eggs, doughnuts, melon, and other traditional breakfast foods, along with cups of steaming coffee and hot chocolate.

  The brothers picked up some bagels with cream cheese, a few oranges, and three cups of cocoa before heading back to the tarmac. They found Jamal polishing the body of the Hawkins Air plane with a damp chamois cloth. He smiled wanly when he saw the Hardys. “Not many bugs out this time of year,” he said, “but at least it takes my mind off the missing plane.” He stashed the chamois under the pilot’s seat, and the Hardys broke out the breakfast. “That food smells great.”

  “We’re on a tight budget,” Frank said, “but at least it’s enough to keep us sharp.”

  “Next time,” Jamal said, “I’ll ask my dad for a real expense account. Assuming he ever lets me do this again.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of this jam,” Joe replied.

  As the three of them ate their breakfast in the Cessna’s open cabin, Amy Chow sauntered over. “Hey, Hawkins,” she said. “Was it your plane that got stolen last night?”

  “I wish it were,” Jamal replied.

  Amy looked puzzled.

  “It was his dad’s plane,” Frank explained.

  “Oh,” she said sympathetically, “that’s much worse.”

  “Yeah,” Jamal said. “We didn’t even get a chance to take it for a spin before it got hijacked. Tell me that you dropped by to replace my plane for free.”

  “We could use a generous millionaire benefactor right about now,” Joe remarked.

  Amy laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, guys. No bailout from me today. I guess you’ll just have to settle for being part of the Sullivan Brothers mystique.”

  “The Sullivan Brothers mystique?” Jamal echoed.

  “What’s that?” Joe asked.

  “Planes customized by the Sullivan Brothers have a reputation in the industry. Sure, they’re posh sky cruisers and all that. They’re among the best planes available. But they’ve been owned by quite a number of crackpot flyboys—like Clevon Brooks, for instance.”

  “I didn’t know Brooks had a Sullivan Brothers plane,” Jamal said.

  “Yeah, it’s that fancy modified job with the big door on the side,” Amy said.

  “So is there more to this mystique,” Frank asked, “or is it just that eccentrics prefer nice planes?”

  Amy crinkled her nose at him. “Well, a robber named Dennis Carlson once used a Sullivan plane to escape from a police dragnet. He was employed by the Sullivan Brothers company, and he stole one right out of their hangar. The cops never caught him, and nobody ever saw that plane again.”

  “Except in aviator ghost stories, I suppose,” Joe said, winking at Frank. “You’re sure this isn’t an urban legend?”

  Amy shrugged. “A lot of myths grow up around the flying business. That’s one of the things that make it so much fun. So, what do you guys have on your agenda today?”

  “Well, we were hoping to catch a bit of the show . . .” Frank began.

  “But now it looks like we’ll be spending most of our time in the air looking for the stolen plane,” Jamal finished.

  “Bummer. Well, just steer clear of me while I’m performing,” Chow said.

  “You’re flying in the show today?” Joe asked.

  “Provided nobody steals my plane,” Amy replied. “I’m not very impressed with the security around here.”

  “Me neither,” said Frank. “It seems like they’ve only got one or two guys working the whole show.”

  “And Mitchum doesn’t strike me as a really sharp whip,” Joe added.

  “I’ve heard,” Amy said, “that the show is really strapped for cash. That’s why they chose this out-of-the-way location for it. Heck, the main organizers aren’t even here. They’ve delegated all their tasks to Elise Flaubert.”

  “She strikes me as pretty overwhelmed by the whole thing,” Frank said.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Amy asked. “You go from being the administrator of a struggling airstrip to doing that plus coordinating a major show. It’s a tough job, and I’m glad I’m not doing it.”

  “So what are you doing in the show today?” Jamal asked.

  “Aerobatics,” she replied, a big grin breaking across her face. “You’ve seen my plane, the Screamin’ Demon.”

  “The fancy red-and-yellow biplane,” Joe said.

  “That’s it. I’m going to take her up and put her through her paces. After that I intend to settle back and enjoy the rest of the show. Maybe do a bit of shopping.”

  Jamal arched one eyebrow. “For airplanes?”

  She smiled. “What else? You boys could help me prep the Demon if you want.”

  “We’d love to . . .” Joe began.

  “But we’ve got to look for our lost plane,” Frank finished.

  Amy smacked her forehead. “Right! You told me that. Good luck with your search, boys. Drop by and catch my show if you can.”

  “We’ll try,” Jamal replied.

  Amy hurried off toward where they’d last seen the Screamin’ Demon parked. The three friends finished their food, then checked over the Cessna, making sure it was ready to go up again. They paused
only long enough to stretch their legs.

  “There are more Sullivan planes here than I first thought,” Frank said after returning from a brief walk.

  “Almost enough to make a squadron,” Joe added.

  “I didn’t think there were that many made,” Jamal said. “Just my rotten luck the thieves picked mine to steal. We’ll have to search pretty quickly. They’re restricting the airspace above the field once today’s air demos start.”

  They stowed some gear aboard, then took to the air. This time they covered the areas to the south and east. Unfortunately they had no more luck than they’d had that morning.

  By the time they returned to Scott Field, the show fliers had begun to take to the air. The three friends sneaked in under the flight curfew and taxied to their spot alongside the runway. Before picking a good spot to watch the show, the three boys grabbed some lunch. They managed to avoid Jack Meeker at the commissary and steered clear of Clevon Brooks, who was arguing with a technician who had been manning the fuel truck.

  Amy’s Screamin’ Demon took to the skies just as they settled in near their campsite at the old motel.

  The red-and-yellow stunt plane climbed swiftly into the air, doing a quick barrel roll as it cleared the tree line.

  “Whoa,” Jamal said. “My dad would kill me if I tried something like that.”

  The Demon climbed nearly straight up, practically stalled, then twisted and dipped right in a falling leaf maneuver. The biplane fluttered from side to side, descending a couple of thousand feet before Amy put it into a tight left turn.

  She pulled out of the turn and into another barrel roll, then shot back toward the clouds once more. A quick Immelmann half loop turned the plane around, and Amy headed back toward Scott Field.

  As she started another climb, however, the plane’s engine stalled. The stunt plane nosed up, and its tail dipped back. It slipped to the side, flipped over, and plummeted straight toward the ground.

  6 Down in Flames

  * * *

  “I don’t think that’s part of the show!” Jamal exclaimed.

  “Ms. Chow’s a good pilot,” Frank said. “Maybe it’s just a spectacular stunt.”

  “Not with the engine out,” Jamal replied. “Look how she’s fighting for control!”

  As the three teens watched, the plane wobbled and wove in the air. The engine remained off, and the red-and-yellow stunt flier’s nose headed straight for the ground.

  Joe stood, his body tense. “There has to be something we can do!”

  Frank shook his head. “She’s got to pull out of this on her own—if she can.”

  Time stretched to a crawl as the plane plunged toward the forested hills beyond the north runway. Slowly, ever so slowly, the nose of the Screamin’ Demon began to inch up.

  “She’s doing it!” Jamal said.

  “She’s really close to the trees,” Joe said.

  The plane leveled out barely a hundred yards above the treetops. Amy angled it for the runway.

  “She’s coming in too fast,” Frank said. “She’s not going to make it!”

  All eyes on the airfield focused on the plane as it fluttered, like an injured bird, toward the airstrip. At the last instant Amy pulled the nose up, and the landing gear touched down.

  The plane hit hard. One of the wheel struts broke, and the Demon skidded along the runway, sending a spray of sparks into the air. It flashed past the old motel and campground and headed toward a row of planes lined up at the edge of the tarmac.

  “Come on!” Joe said, sprinting after the plane. Frank and Jamal followed.

  The plane spun in tight circles as it skidded in. The other wheel strut broke, and the belly of the aircraft smashed into the ground. The fuselage broke near the tail, and the plane bent in half like a jackknifed semitrailer.

  Sparks filled the air, and flames sprang up near the broken tail section. The plane finally skidded to a stop about thirty yards from a row of show planes.

  Rescue sirens filled the air as the Hardys and Jamal dashed toward the burning aircraft. The three boys were the first to arrive at the crash scene. The heat from the fire was uncomfortable. The pilot’s cabin was intact, but there was no sign of movement inside.

  “Give me a hand here!” Frank shouted, peering into the cockpit. The plane’s automatic safety system had deployed upon impact, and cream-colored air bags shrouded the compartment. Inside, Amy Chow was groaning. Her helmeted head slumped to one side. “She’s alive, but the catch is jammed.” He tried to open the compartment but then pulled his hands away from the lever and shook them. “It’s hot too!”

  Joe took off his letterman jacket and wrapped it around his hands. Jamal did the same with his leather aviator coat. Jamal grabbed the lever and yanked it hard while Joe seized the edge of the stuck canopy and heaved.

  The cockpit hatch flew open. Frank reached in and dragged Amy out of the burning plane. Joe and Jamal took her legs and helped Frank carry her away from the fiery aircraft.

  “Bet when she painted the flames on the side of that bird, Amy didn’t know it’d be prophetic,” Jamal said as they laid her gently on the dry grass at the edge of the tarmac.

  Amy groaned.

  “The plane’s safety systems probably saved her life,” Joe said.

  “Her piloting did too,” Frank added. “I doubt I could have pulled out of a dive like that.”

  “Me neither,” Jamal said. “I wonder what went wrong with the plane.”

  At that moment Amy’s brown eyes flickered open. She glanced around feverishly and tried to stand up. “What happened?” she said. “Where’s the Demon?”

  “Totaled,” Joe replied. “We pulled you out of the wreck.”

  “The engine quit, and I lost control,” she said. “I couldn’t steer the plane!”

  “Take it easy,” Frank said. “An ambulance is on the way.”

  Fire and rescue teams, which had been stationed at the field as a safety precaution during the show, arrived moments later. Firefighters began to hose down the remains of the Screamin’ Demon as emergency medical technicians raced to Amy’s side.

  “Good work getting her out of that plane,” the lead EMT said to Frank. “We’ll take it from here.”

  The Hardys and Jamal backed away to give the medical personnel space to work.

  “I’m okay,” Amy kept saying. “I’m okay.”

  Elise Flaubert arrived shortly after the EMTs. The airport administrator eyed the group of medical technicians gathered around Amy but had the good sense not to interfere. “How is she?” Flaubert asked the brothers and Jamal. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I think so,” Frank said.

  “She didn’t seem too badly hurt,” Joe added. “But there might be internal injuries.”

  “What are you going to do to protect these other planes?” shouted a gruff voice. The teens and Flaubert turned and saw Jack Meeker striding across the tarmac toward them. Tony Manetti was following close behind. Neither man looked pleased.

  “We need more fire trucks,” Meeker said. “The fire could spread to the other planes near the runway.”

  “People have a lot of money tied up in those planes,” Manetti added.

  “The rest of the Scottsville Fire Department is already on the way,” Flaubert said. “They’ve called for assistance from Jewel Ridge too. We’re doing everything we can.”

  “What about the show?” asked Rock Grissom, striding up to the group. “Some of us need to make a living here.”

  Flaubert looked flustered. She glanced nervously around the field to where a handful of police and hired security agents were working to keep people away from the crash scene. “We’ll do everything we can to keep the show going,” she said. “The other runways aren’t affected. We should be able to continue with the rest of the day’s events.”

  “Is that wise?” Frank asked.

  “Butt out, kid,” Grissom said. “You ain’t got a stake in this show, like the rest of us.”

  “W
e’ll continue if at all possible,” Flaubert said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to coordinate with the emergency services.” She turned on her heel and walked back toward the hangars near the administration building. Manetti, Grissom, and Meeker trailed after her, still badgering her and asking questions. Meeker shot a parting sneer at Jamal and the Hardys.

  “Nice to see everyone is keeping this in perspective,” Joe said, meaning just the opposite. He, Frank, and Jamal looked toward the chaos on the far side of the field. Attendees and spectators mingled with newly arrived police and fire units.

  “I’ll be amazed if this isn’t the end of the show for the day,” Frank said.

  “I dunno,” Joe said. “Never underestimate the power of ambitious people.” He and the others watched as the ambulance carrying Amy left the field.

  “Come on,” said Jamal. “We’d better check the Cessna. It’d be just my luck to have one plane stolen and another smashed up by debris or antsy crowds on the same day.”

  The boys skirted around the police and fire lines and pushed their way through the milling crowds to the old Hawkins Air Service plane. They were pleased to discover it in one piece.

  The same could not be said, however, for all the planes in the area. They overheard several people complaining to the police that their planes had been broken into during the commotion.

  The three friends stayed with the Cessna until the crowds thinned out. By midafternoon the blaze consuming the Screamin’ Demon had been extinguished, and the wreckage of the plane had been carted away. Grounds crews were still working on the north runway, but the other runways were open for business.

  Two hours later Elise Flaubert, looking haggard but sporting a smile, announced that the Fly By & Buy would continue with its late-afternoon and evening schedule of events. An investigator from the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) arrived to look into the crash. He gave some orders and went over the scene briefly before cordoning the area off and going to the hospital to speak with Amy Chow.

  The news about Amy was encouraging. Reports on the radio confirmed that—miraculously—she hadn’t been seriously injured in the crash. The buzz around the airport was that she was intending to return to the show as soon as she could.