Rick Brant 9 Stairway to Danger Page 2

  “Got it,” Rick returned swiftly. “I’m on my way.”

  “Step on it. The sedan has a fifteen-minute start. And don’t worry about Barby and Jerry. They’re all right. I’m sorry this had to happen when most of my men are tied up hunting Strade, but I’m betting on you to find that hit-and-run car.”

  Rick hung up, and repeated the conversation to his father and Scotty as he hurriedly collected paper, pencil, and a pair of lead paperweights from his father’s desk. Then he rushed to the kitchen, rummaged in a drawer, and found a sugar sack. His mother was already on her way to Whiteside in one of the motorboats.

  “I’m going with you,” Hartson Brant said as Rick returned. “You can drop me at the airport and I’ll join Mother and Barby at the hospital.”

  Rick’s plane was only a two-seater, but he didn’t say anything. The extra load wouldn’t put the plane beyond the safety limits and this was an emergency. The three of them ran from the house to where the plane was staked down. Rick and the scientist got in while Scotty untied the plane, pulled the chocks from in front of the wheels, and then spun the prop. The engine caught and Scotty got in, taking a seat on Hartson Brant’s lap.

  Rick adjusted his trim tabs for the heavy load,then taxied to the very end of the strip. Holding fast on the brakes, he revved up the engine until it howled. Then he released the brakes and the plane rolled Page 7

  forward.

  The tail came up sluggishly. Rick held the Cub on the ground as long as he dared, then slowly pulled back on the wheel. The plane left the ground with only a few feet of runway to spare.

  “Made it,” Scotty said quietly. “Am I too heavy, Dad?”

  The scientist grunted. “You’re about a hundred and fifty pounds too heavy for comfortable lap sitting, Scotty. But I can stand it if you can.”

  Rick adjusted his trim tabs a little more,then asked, “Dad, who is Soapy Strade? Captain Douglas didn’t explain. I guess he thought I knew, but I don’t.”

  Hartson Brant got a little more comfortable. “He’s a gang leader, Rick. He had one of the biggest crime rings in the East until he made the mistake of kidnaping a wealthy banker. That made it possible for the FBI to take action. He drew a twenty-year sentence.”

  “I don’t remember reading about it,” Scotty said.

  “It happened while we were in the western Pacific,” Hartson Brant explained. “I didn’t know about it, either, until the news broke last night that he had escaped.

  Both theNew York andNew Jersey police are hunting him. I’m not surprised Captain Douglas hasn’t many men to help us.”

  Whiteside was already in view. Rick hadn’t bothered climbing for altitude, and he swept over the town at little more than five hundred feet. He picked up the windsock at the Whiteside airport, banked into the wind, and cut the throttle. In a few moments they were on the ground. Rick taxied at high speed to the hangar and the scientist got out. The boys waved good-bye and Rick yelled, “Tell Barby we’ll catch that car.”

  Scotty added, “Andtell her we’ll see her tonight, either at the hospital or home.”

  Rick poured throttle to the little plane and took off crosswind. He estimated quickly that the hit-and-run car couldn’t get out of the area in less than thirty minutes, no matter how fast it traveled. That gave him about ten minutes leeway-just enough to reach the junction of theShore Road and Route 1.

  The highway curved along the coast, but Rick flew in a straight line. “We’ll get to the junction,then work back up,” he told Scotty. “Better get the binoculars out of the back.”

  “Got ‘em,” Scotty said. He held up the glasses.

  Rick climbed to about twenty-five hundred feet. He had the Cub wide open.Time enough to throttle down to cruising speed once they reached the junction. His mouth was set in a straight line. If the maroon sedan was in the area, he would find it. The fact that Barby and Jerry were not seriously injured had nothing to do with his intentions. He was going to get that sedan, anyway. Nobody could put his sister in danger and get away with it!

  Scotty looked at him. “Relax, pal. We may be flying for a couple of hours. You can’t make this airplane go any faster by sitting there like a ramrod.”

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  Rick hadn’t realized he was so tense. He sat back in the seat a little,then worked the tabs until the plane was perfectly balanced and able to fly itself. The tabs were small movable pieces on the control surfaces that enabled the pilot to trim the plane to match weight distribution.

  Far to the left was theAtlantic Ocean . Inland, curving to follow the coastline, was theShore Road . The plane was moving slowly away from the road, cutting across a wide swing it made toward the town ofSeaford .

  Rick didn’t need a map. He knew the area as well as he knewSpindriftIsland . TheShore Road met main U.S. Highway 1 just below the town ofJerrick ’s Crossing. From the junction he intended to work north along the shore. There were only two roads that turned off theShore Road between the junction and Whiteside. One of them petered out into a wood road. The other curved into a small village and then joined theShore Road again.

  Scotty motioned to the right. The main highway was in sight. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” he said. He held up the binoculars and looked ahead through the plexiglass windshield. After a moment he added, “Coming up. Want to lose a little altitude?”

  “Good idea,” Rick agreed.

  He put the Cub into a shallow dive, letting it pick up speed as they went. Presently the intersection was below them. Cars could be easily identified by color, although not by make. Rick banked sharply, wrapping the Cub up in a tight circle. Both he and Scotty watched carefully, but no maroon cars were in sight.

  “The car couldn’t have gotten here so soon,” Scotty said. “Let’s head north up theShore Road .”

  Rick looked at his friend, sensing something in the other boy’s voice. No doubt of it, Scotty was controlling deep anger. Rick had been so busy since the phone call that he hadn’t been conscious of how Scotty felt. Now he knew. Scotty was as fond of Barby as if she were his own sister.

  “We’ll find the car if it’s in our area,” Rick stated positively. He put the Cub on a northward course, at slightly less than a thousand feet altitude. From that height they could see great stretches of the road, but it was still possible to tell a car’s color without error.

  TheShore Road was almost deserted. It was little traveled, except by people who lived in the towns along the coast, because the main highway south fromNewark was much better.

  They passed over Jerrick’s Crossing without seeing more than a half dozen cars. None of them were maroon. Jerrick’s Crossing, so called because of its railroad bridge over a section of marshland, was asleep in the afternoon sun.

  A short distance above the crossing Rick saw an angular structure loom on the horizon. In a few moments he identified it as the roller coaster atSeaside amusement park. Its form became more rounded and other buildings became visible. On the south side of the park was a building with a slate roof. That was the location of the new Spindrift project.

  As the plane neared the amusement park, Rick saw that it was surrounded by a high board fence. On the road side, there was a good stretch of grass. That was where he would land in the morning when they reported for work.

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  Scotty watched the highway through the binoculars, examining every car.

  “There’s nothing rottener than a hit-and-run driver,” Scotty said once.

  Rick nodded, but didn’t reply. He was suddenly conscious that the plane still moved at top speed. He throttled back to cruising speed, taking an anxious look at the gas gauge. He had enough for another hour’s flying time. That would be plenty. If an hour passed with no sign of the maroon car, it would mean that it wasn’t in their search area.

  He swung off the mainShore Road onto a turnoff, covered it completely,then swung south again to retrace some ground in case the maroon car had passed while he was exploring the byway. No maroon car was in
sight, although nearly every other color was represented in the thin stream of traffic.

  “Seafordahead,” Scotty said.

  Tenseness was growing in Rick again. The maroon car would have gotten farther south thanSeaford . He dropped to eight hundred feet and circled the town. Then he did figure eights over it, giving Scotty a chance to examine every street. There weren’t many. He flew north along Million Dollar Row to Smugglers’ Reef. When he saw the Creek House below, he turned inland again and went south along theShore Road .

  When he had covered enough of the highway to be sure the maroon car hadn’t slipped by while he circled overSeaford , Rick went north again. He found the turn-off that ended in a wood road and followed it until it lost itself in cutover timber. There was no sign that a car had been on the road, even though he dropped down to treetop height to permit a close look at the dirt road itself.

  “We’ve missed it,” Scotty said tonelessly.

  “Yes.” Rick brightened at a thought. “But don’t forget the other areas are covered, too. Maybe Gus or the State Police found some sign of it.”

  “I hope so.” Scotty didn’t take his eyes from the terrain below. “But I wish Captain Douglas had all of his troopers looking for the car with us, instead of hunting that gangster.”

  Rick considered. He didn’t know where the accident had taken place. But the camp where the swimming meet was held happened to be west of Whiteside. A hit-and-run driver would have to go right through the town to reach theShore Road . That wasn’t impossible, of course, but it was unlikely, unless the car had a definite destination within the area. If the driver didn’t know the area, he probably wouldn’t take a chance on unknown roads. He would head west, planning to lose himself in the maze of traffic aroundNewark ,Bayonne , and the other sprawling industrial cities of theNew Jersey flatlands. If he did know the roads, he would realize that going south would trap him. So he would surely go west.

  Gus, manager of the Whiteside airport and Rick’s good friend, was covering the western sector. If the maroon sedan had gone west, Gus would surely spot it.

  Rick covered the highway right into Whiteside itself. For luck, he circled over the town as he had over Sea-ford. There was no maroon sedan.

  “We’re going home,” he told Scotty. “I’m anxious to find out how Barby is.”

  “Same here,” Scotty agreed. “Anyway, we’re sure the car didn’t go south. Or if it did, the driver put the Page 10

  car in a garage or something. It isn’t out in the open or we’d have seen it.”

  “Maybe we ought to take a look at those summer cottages below Spindrift,” Rick said thoughtfully. He banked south once more.

  A short distance down the coast from his home weretwo summer colonies. He lost altitude and went over them low enough to see every detail. In spite of the trees, he was certain no maroon car was in either of the settlements. The trees weren’t thick enough to hide a car, nor did the cottages have garages.

  “That does it,” Scotty said.

  Rick headed the Cub toward Spindrift, in sight on the ocean ahead. From the air one could see that Spindrift was not really an island. It was connected to the mainland by a rocky tidal flat, above water at low tide. However, no car could cross the flat and it was difficult for foot traffic. So the island’s privacy was guaranteed. Rick circled in order to look into the boat cove on the north side of the island. Both motorboats were tied to the dock. His father and mother were at home, then. Suddenly anxious, he slipped to lose altitude quickly, banked vertically over the laboratory, almost touching the radar antenna with his wing, and slapped the Cub down on the springy turf. He didn’t wait to taxi back to take-off position. Instead, he let the Cub roll right to the front door of the big house that faced theAtlantic . He set the brakes and got out, Scotty right behind him.

  Rick ran up the steps and onto the porch, then stopped short at the sight of Barby. Worried as he was, he couldn’t restrain a grin.

  Barbara Brant was a very pretty girl, always in radiant good health. Her high color and exuberant spirits had always made it impossible for her to look languid, and, as she put it, “so spiritual.” But now she looked very languid indeed, and she was making the most of it. The shock of the accident had drained the color from her face and she looked very pale.

  The Brants had placed her in a comfortable armchair, her legs on a hassock. One leg was bandaged from knee to foot. Her golden head rested on a pillow-a dark-colored one from the porch sofa. Rick, knowing his mother, was sure Mrs. Brant had wanted to use a regular soft bed pillow. He was equally sure that Barby had insisted on the dark one, knowing the pallor of her face would be much more dramatic.

  She raised a limp hand. “Rick,” she said huskily.

  Rick heard Scotty’s sudden intake of breath behind him. Scotty didn’t know Barby as he did. Scotty thought Barby’s act was genuine illness. He didn’t know that Barby would be upstairs in bed with Mrs.

  Brant in anxious attendance if she were as faint as she looked. Rick managed to control the grin that kept popping to the surface. Part of the grin was his pure relief at finding that she really was all right. He feigned what he hoped was a worried look and hurried to her side. He took the limp hand.

  “Will you live?” he asked tenderly.

  There was sudden suspicion in Barby’s eyes, but she answered faintly, “I hope so.”

  “How about Jerry?”Rick asked.

  “He was wonderful,” Barby sighed.“Just wonderful. He carried me from the wreck all the way to the hospital/Rick had a mental image of Jerry, who wasn’t particularly husky, carrying Barby. “In his arms?”

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  he asked incredulously.

  “Well, no.” Barby bit her lip.

  “How?”Rick demanded.

  A little color came into Barby’s face. “He used the fireman’s carry,” she said.

  Rick coughed. He had to, to keep from laughing. How Barby’s love for the romantic and dramatic must have suffered! He had a picture of her draped over Jerry’s shoulder like a sack of grain. “First-aid training is a wonderful thing,” he managed. “Don’t you think so, Scotty?”

  Scotty did. He looked at Barby anxiously. “Sure you’re all right, Sis?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him.

  “How’s the leg?” Rick asked.

  “It’s all right,” Barby said.

  Rick nodded. He was sure the leg was all right, but he was just as sure that it was very painful.

  Otherwise, Barby’s color would have come back, at least a little. But she was game. She would deny the pain to everyone except their mother. He squeezed her hand. “You had us worried, Sis. What happened?”

  “Jerry was bringing me to the boat landing and we stopped at the light two blocks above the department store. We went ahead on green, but the other car went through the red and hit us. I didn’t see the car.

  Jerry did. He even got the license number. The car backed away,then kept on going. Jerry made sure I didn’t have any broken bones, and that I wasn’t bleeding,then he put me over his shoulder and took me to the hospital. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Rick knew the intersection. It was less than a hundred yards from the hospital. Also, Barby’s concise recital confirmed his belief that she was far from being as badly off as she looked. He said, “We didn’t find the car, Sis. I’m going to call Captain Douglas. Maybe someone else did.” He left her with Scotty and went into the library. He shook his head as Hartson Brant asked if he had had any luck.

  “Barby’s fine,” the scientist told him, “except that she won’t be walking for a day or so. She got quite a painful bruise. Jerry had gone when we got to the hospital. So I assume he’s all right.”

  Rick called the State Police Barracks and got Captain Douglas. “Not a sign of a maroon car of any description,” he said. “Any luck in the other areas?”

  “Not yet,” Captain Douglas replied. “But we haven’t given up. The hit-and-run driver couldn’t have gotten out to t
he main road, no matter what direction he took, before you and Gus got to the intersections. He’s near Whiteside somewhere, and the moment he pokes his nose out, there will be a police car waiting for him. We’re blocking all roads to catch Soapy Strade, and I’ve instructed the men at the road blocks to watch for the hit-and-run car, too. Thanks for trying, Rick.”

  “I’ll be here if you need me,” Rick replied. “Have you seen Jerry?”

  “Yes. He came here as soon as he delivered Barby to the hospital emergency room. He’s at the Page 12

  Morning Record now. He kept his head and got a good description of the car. He also got the license number. We’ve checked on it.A stolen car.”

  “No wonder it was hit and run,” Rick said thoughtfully.“Looks like we’ve got car thieves to deal with.”

  “That will make it easier, not harder,” Captain Douglas assured him. “We’ll get the man responsible, Rick. Never fear.”

  “I know you will,” Rick said. “But I wish you had him now. Barby’s fine, but it’s just luck.”

  “We’ll get him,” the captain said again. “It may take a little time, but it’s sure. We’ll get him, Rick.”

  And from the tone of his voice, Rick knew that he meant it.

  CHAPTER III

  Strange Tracks

  Rick awoke with his mother’s voice in his ears. For a moment he lay still,then he realized that she was calling him. He jumped out of bed and ran to the door.“Yes, Mom?”

  “Telephone, Rick,” Mrs. Brant replied. “It’s Captain Douglas.”

  Rick didn’t wait to dress. He ran downstairs in his pajamas and hurried into the library. There was a phone upstairs in his parents’ room, but he wasn’t sure his father was up yet.

  His voice was still thick with sleep as he answered, “What is it, Captain?”

  “We have a lead,” the State Police officer replied. “It isn’t much, except that it gives a direction. One of my cars picked up a man who claims to have seen a maroon sedan heading south. He said the car was going so fast it hit only the high spots in the road.”