In Plane Sight Read online

  “Brooks and I have an interest in the ongoing investigation,” Jamal said.

  “That’s true, of course,” Flaubert said. “A lot of people who don’t own Sullivans are talking about leaving too. Even Mr. Manetti is thinking of packing it in, and he’s one of the people who convinced me to take on this show!”

  “What kind of vandalization was there on the other Sullivan planes?” Frank asked, rubbing his chin. “How many did you say there were?”

  “There were five others, including the two up for sale,” Flaubert said. “The vandals made a terrible mess of three of them, tearing up their upholstery and paneling. Only the two for sale weren’t broken into, and one of those was damaged by flying debris—the older, more valuable one, of course.” She sighed again. “I was so proud to have more than a quarter of that year’s Sullivan production run at the show!”

  “Was anything stolen from the vandalized planes?” Frank asked.

  “We’re not sure yet,” she replied.

  “Hold on,” Joe said. “You’re saying that all the damaged or stolen planes were from the same model year?”

  “Yes,” Flaubert replied. “That was a banner year for Sullivan Brothers Air Customizing. It was quite a coup to get all those planes here at the same time. I had to work really hard at convincing everyone to come. Now, of course, it’s a disaster! Anyone coming to see the set will be completely disappointed.

  “I’m glad Amy left her Sullivan plane at home; they’re becoming extremely rare! Not that she didn’t suffer enough of a loss when her plane crashed. I’m so glad she wasn’t badly hurt,” she continued. “Shoot, look at the time! I have to run, find Mitchum, and pigeonhole a few other people. But I’m so glad that you’re not leaving. Please stay until the end of the show tomorrow.”

  “We will,” Jamal said.

  “Assuming nothing comes up,” Frank added.

  Flaubert sighed again. “I certainly hope nothing does! They say any publicity is good publicity, but, for airports at least, they couldn’t be more wrong. See you later.” She jogged off across the tarmac toward Amy, who was admiring a lime green stunt plane.

  “So,” Joe said, “maybe Amy’s fortunes have increased since the crash—because her Sullivan custom is now worth more.”

  “Crashing a stunt plane seems like a big risk just to increase the value of your airplane collection,” Frank said.

  “But she wasn’t badly hurt in the crash,” Jamal reminded them. “She could have set the whole thing up, either to increase her other plane’s worth or as some kind of insurance scheme.”

  “She’s not taking the loss of the Screamin’ Demon very badly,” Joe said. “That’s for sure. However, if someone were pulling an insurance scam, I’d have to put my money on Brooks. We know he needs money.”

  Frank nodded. “Having his plane stolen might be a good way to make some easy money. But what’s connecting all this to Grissom? He’s either blackmailing someone or being blackmailed himself. My guess is the first, but—”

  “Whoever’s doing this isn’t in it alone either,” Joe said. “We know there were two people who hijacked Brooks’s plane. We also know there were two people at the control tower last night, the one who ran from us and the one who attacked Ms. Davenport. What puzzles me is how the thieves beat us back here after shooting at us in the woods.”

  “Well,” Frank said, “they knew where they were going, and we didn’t. They still made good time, though. There could be another explanation.”

  “So you’re pretty sure, there are more than two guys involved in this?” Jamal asked.

  Frank nodded. “I’m thinking maybe it’s a whole gang of people.”

  “The Denny gang!” Joe said. “If they’re behind this, that would explain one of the articles in Grissom’s pocket.”

  “The real question is,” Frank said, “what are they after? They’ve broken into the administrative office, but they didn’t take anything. Why were they using the control tower computer? They’ve stolen two planes but still came back to the airport a third time. Are they aiding someone with an insurance scam, or is it something else?” He shook his head. “I still don’t really get it.”

  Joe shook his head. “Just once I’d like to run into a nice, simple case,” he said.

  “It would help if we knew what Denny and his gang looked like,” Frank said. “We have to assume they’ve disgused themselves for this caper.”

  “We know Denny’s done that before,” Joe remarked. “Let’s call Phil Cohen. He can search the Internet back in Bayport and fax us a picture or anything else he finds.” Phil was a good friend of theirs, also a pro with computers.

  “Good idea,” Jamal said. “There’s bound to be a fax in the airport office. I’ll find Ms. Davenport again and ask if we can use it.”

  “I’ll get in touch with Phil and tell him what we need,” Joe said.

  Frank nodded. “I’ll make arrangements for following Grissom tonight and see if I can get our cell phone working again.”

  By the time they finished their errands and Frank repaired his cell phone, night had fallen on the air show once more. There were no further incidents during the day, and security seemed to be relaxing a bit. Mitchum could be seen poking around the airfield once more, keeping a droopy eye on things. Jose and the other field workers kept their eyes peeled as well. Despite this, many airplane owners, like Grissom, stayed close to their planes.

  Tomorrow was the final day of the show, and most of the aviators were gathering for a dinner and dance in the same hangar where the opening banquet had been held. Jamal and the Hardys avoided the celebration and kept a close watch on Grissom. They made sure to stay out of clear sight.

  In addition to securing the use of the airport fax, Jamal had gained clearance for a flight that evening in case they needed the plane to follow anyone Frank had rented an all-terrain Jeep as well, for any necessary ground work. They’d put the expenses on the Hawkins Air credit card.

  “The cost will be worth it if we can catch these crooks and get my plane back,” Jamal said.

  Once the banquet was in full swing, Grissom slipped quietly into his Sullivan plane and taxied onto the runway. Jamal surreptitiously got clearance from the tower to take off right after Grissom. He and Joe planned to fly, while Frank would follow along as best he could in the Jeep. It was a tricky plan, but they couldn’t be sure that Grissom might not switch to ground transportation at some point during the chase.

  Grissom headed north, with the Hawkins plane following in his blind spot. Joe used Jamal’s cell phone to relay information to Frank on the ground. Frank had studied maps of the area beforehand, but he still had the tricky job of tailing the planes in a Jeep.

  “It looks like he’s headed toward Kendall State Park,” Joe said after they’d been in the air ten minutes.

  “That’s an awfully big area,” Frank replied. “Can you give me a more specific idea of where he’s going?”

  “Hang on . . .” Joe said. “It looks like he’s getting ready to land.”

  “Out here?” Jamal asked. “Where?”

  Joe snapped his fingers. “Frank, remember that old farm airstrip we saw while we were searching for Jamal’s plane the other day?”

  “The one with the broken down barn and the rusty fuel tank near the runway?” Frank asked.

  “That’s the one,” Joe said. “I think Grissom is landing there.”

  “That makes sense,” Frank said. “It’s close enough to Scott Field that someone in a car could meet Grissom, but remote enough to be private. Keep on him. I’ll meet you there.”

  Joe and Jamal watched as Grissom circled the deserted airstrip once before setting his Sullivan custom down. He taxied to the end of the small runway and stopped.

  “Grissom’s getting out of his plane,” Joe said.

  “I’m just a few minutes away,” Frank called back.

  Grissom walked down the runway toward the dilapidated farm house. As he passed the old fuel tank, a bright fla
sh lit the night. The tank exploded into a huge fireball.

  14 “Flight” for Life

  * * *

  “Frank!” Joe called. “The fuel tank just exploded!”

  “Can you see Grissom?” Frank asked. “Is he okay?”

  “I can’t tell,” Joe said. “Take us lower, Jamal.”

  Joe peered into the gloom and saw a dark form, the size and shape of a man, lying near the side of the airstrip. As he watched, two more dark shapes came out of the dilapidated farmhouse and moved cautiously across the grass toward the prone figure. “Grissom’s down, Frank. Two guys are coming for him. Step on it!”

  “I’m driving as fast as I can.”

  “Can you land us, Jamal?” Joe asked. “Maybe we can get there quicker than Frank.”

  “I can’t,” Jamal replied. “Grissom’s plane is blocking the runway.”

  “Can’t you come at the strip from the opposite direction?”

  Jamal shook his head. “If I did, there’s a good chance Frank would be scraping us off that runway instead of Grissom.”

  Joe looked out the window. “Hurry, Frank! Hurry!” he whispered.

  Frank pushed the gas pedal to the floor and tore down the old gravel driveway in front of the farmhouse. Small fires in the tall grass lit the airstrip behind the house. Frank saw two masked people approaching what looked like the body of Rock Grissom.

  The black-garbed figures approached cautiously at first but grew bolder when it became obvious Grissom was in no condition to fight back. They knelt to search Grissom’s body and took something out of his coat. Then they stood up, and one of the people reached into his own coat, as if to draw a gun.

  Frank leaned hard on the horn and flashed his headlights. He barreled full throttle straight toward the masked people. The thugs dived out of the way as Frank’s Jeep rushed between them and their intended victim.

  The elder Hardy hit the brakes, but couldn’t stop quickly enough. The Jeep skidded across the airstrip and landed in the very tall grass on the other side. The left-side wheels landed in a rut, and the Jeep almost tipped over. Frank spun the wheel, trying to set it right again.

  Once he kicked in the four-wheel drive, the Jeep plowed up the slope through the tangled grass. As he turned the vehicle around, he saw the masked guys climbing into Grissom’s airplane.

  Frank spun the wheel hard and floored the gas, trying to get back to the field and cut these guys off. But the ground was very rough, and he’d made too wide a turn. As he neared the spot where Grissom lay, the stolen aircraft was already building up speed to take off.

  The elder Hardy raced after them, but it was too late. Rock Grissom’s stolen Sullivan Brothers aircraft soared off into the night sky.

  Frank turned around and raced back to Grissom. He leaped out of the car and ran to the injured aviator’s side. Grissom was unconscious and badly burned. The pupils of his eyes were dilated, and he looked as though he were slipping into shock.

  A voice echoed out of the Jeep, and Frank remembered he had left his cell phone in speaker mode resting on the seat of the car. “Don’t worry, Frank,” Joe’s voice said. “We’re on them. They won’t get away from us.”

  Frank dashed back to the Jeep and picked up the phone. “Never mind the thieves,” Frank said. “I need you down here. Grissom’s in really bad shape. We need to get him to a hospital, pronto. The car may not be fast enough.”

  “But the thieves will get away!” Jamal interjected.

  “We’ll have to let them go again,” Frank said. “Grissom knows who they are anyway. I’ll bet he’ll testify against them—if he lives through this. Check their heading before you land. I have a feeling I may know where those guys are going.”

  “Get the car off the runway, Frank,” Joe said. “We’re coming down.”

  Frank moved the Jeep away from the airstrip, and less than two minutes later, the Hawkins Air Cessna was on the ground. Jamal taxied over to Grissom, while Frank did what he could for the aviator’s injuries. Then Frank and Joe loaded the wounded man into the back of the plane.

  “I called ahead to the airstrip,” Jamal said. “They’ll have an ambulance waiting when I get there.”

  “Good,” Frank said. “I’ve done my best to stabilize him. If you can take care of Grissom, Joe and I will go after the thieves. What was their heading last time you saw them?”

  “North by northwest,” Jamal said.

  Joe whistled. “Straight toward Lake Kendall.”

  “Keep the cell phone connection open as long as you can,” Frank said to Jamal. “Come on, Joe.” The brothers closed and secured the doors to the Cessna, then hopped into the Jeep.

  As Jamal’s airplane lifted into the air, the Hardys got into the Jeep and tore down the old farm road toward the highway.

  “I didn’t see anyone driving away when I arrived,” Frank said. “The thieves must have been dropped off earlier and waited for Grissom.”

  “That means at least three guys are working together on this,” Joe said. “Unless they took a taxi.”

  “And left a witness?” Frank said. “I doubt it. Besides, we know there are five people in the Denny gang—if it’s them. See if you can find a way around Lake Kendall on the map. There must be one, or the thieves wouldn’t be able to get between their hideout and the airport so quickly.”

  “You’re thinking they’re in that rusty barn we saw by the lake,” Joe said.

  Frank nodded. “What we thought were snowmobile tracks on the lake were actually airplane tracks. We assumed that the criminals had just touched down to pick up the parachutist you fought with and then left again. But what if they meant to land on the lake all the time?” He screeched the Jeep off the dirt road and onto the highway heading toward Kendall State Park.

  “I get it,” Joe said. “The tracks were there because they’d done it before—at least once.”

  “That’s where they took Jamal’s Sullivan Brothers plane,” Frank said, “and Brooks’s plane too. We didn’t see it land because we were too busy trying not to get killed in the skydiving accident.”

  “So you think they’re taking Grissom’s plane there as well,” Joe said.

  Frank nodded. “We know Carl Denny either crashed eight-seven-eight into the lake or dumped it there deliberately.”

  “That would mean he had knowledge of the area,” Joe said, “and you can’t miss that old metal barn. That would explain why the sniper chased us for so long. He was trying to make sure we didn’t find their hideout.” He pointed to a side road coming up. “Turn right here.”

  Frank turned the car onto the side road but kept his foot firmly on the gas. “But why is Denny trying to steal these planes now? His old gang went to jail for five years, but he’s been out. Why steal these planes now? What’s he want?”

  They drove in silence awhile as both pondered these questions. The cell phone’s ring broke the silence. It was Jamal.

  “I just got in,” he said. “The EMTs are working on Grissom, but a fax came from Phil Cohen while we were gone. It’s a picture of Carl Denny.”

  “Great,” Joe said. “Which one of the people at the show is he?”

  “That’s just it,” Jamal said. “He’s not any of the people we were wondering about; he’s the guy in the obituary from Grissom’s pocket. Carl Denny is dead.”

  The brothers sat in stunned silence for a moment. Frank pulled them onto the road leading around Lake Kendall to the northeast shore, where they’d seen the old barn.

  “But if Denny is dead, who’s pulling these jobs?” Joe asked.

  Frank looked puzzled a moment and then laughed. “Think about it a minute, Joe,” he said. “Denny’s being dead makes perfect sense.”

  A smile slowly crept across Joe Hardy’s face. “You’re right, Frank,” he said. “The date on that obituary was six months ago. That explains why these crimes are happening now—as well as the trouble with this particular set of Sullivan Brothers planes.”

  “Well, I don’t get it,” Jama
l said, his voice echoing over the speakerphone.

  “Has Phil found a photo of the gang yet, Jamal?” Frank asked.

  “No,” Jamal replied. “Not yet.”

  “Call Phil and tell him it’s imperative that he find that photo,” Joe said. “And ask him to find out when the Denny gang got out on parole. I’m betting it’s just over six months ago.”

  “So the Denny gang, minus Denny, is behind all this?” Jamal asked.

  “That’s our guess,” Frank said.

  “What did you say?” Jamal replied. “You’re break . . . up!”

  Joe hung up the phone. “We’ve lost the cell connection again.”

  “That means we’re getting close to where we parachuted down. Take the next trail on the left. If I’m reading this map right, we’re driving to the back of the barn.”

  “Just let me know when to kill the headlights,” Frank said. “We already know these guys have guns, and I’d rather they didn’t see us coming.”

  A few minutes later they turned off the car’s lights and drove in the dark up the final curve to the warehouse. Frank stopped a short distance away. Joe tucked the cell phone into his pocket. They got out and moved cautiously through the woods up to the old barn.

  The structure was as large as an air hangar. It had big metal doors on either end and a smaller door on one side near the back. The old farm building close to the barn had long fallen into ruin, though enough of its white columns remained to give an impression of its former glory. A row of airplane tracks led up from the frozen lake and stopped at the big doors on the lakeward side. The building had only a few small translucent windows. Dim light leaked out from behind them.

  Joe and Frank crept up to the side of the building. They listened but heard no noise from inside. Trying to see through the windows without being seen was impossible even if they weren’t totally transparent, so the brothers cautiously moved to the small door near the back. Frank checked it; it was unlocked. They slowly opened the door and slipped inside.