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The Flying Stingaree Part 23

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"It's difficult to be precise, but I'd estimate the balloon carries it to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the proper time. The rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, plus or minus twenty thousand. In other words, I'd guess its maximum alt.i.tude at nearly twenty-three miles."

"Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper alt.i.tude?" Rick asked quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure McDevitt had said "time."

"The alt.i.tude isn't important. I'd say time was the princ.i.p.al factor."

"But if alt.i.tude isn't important, why use a rockoon? Why not use a rocket launched directly from the ground?" Scotty demanded. He looked puzzled.

Rick looked at Steve expectantly. The young agent smiled. "Got the answer, Rick?"

"Maybe. It's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? The folks around here were puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled by rocket firing. They'd have been curious enough to want to know why the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation would have resulted. By using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look like balloons, Camillion confused the issue. People who reported seeing things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying object a flying saucer. The rockets fired only when high in the air, where people wouldn't notice."

"Two did," Scotty reminded him. "Remember? We had two interviews where the people saw spurts of flame."

"Sure," Rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off from a balloon. And only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame at all."

Steve nodded. "You've hit it, Rick. It's the only answer that makes sense."

"Not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," Rick said stubbornly. "That's the whole key. Nothing will really make sense until we know that."

"We ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot of other dates and times for various things," Steve explained. "I had a hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data."

"What data?" Scotty demanded.

"Every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a research rocket from Wallops Island!"

The boys sat back, openmouthed. Rick said, "So that's why the glow from Wallops Island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. That's what put you on the trail!"

"Right," Steve agreed. "The yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets fired from Wallops. The rockets allow visual measurement of meteorological data. People around here are used to seeing them to the southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest."

"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why?

How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, uncla.s.sified scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist."

Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. He and his friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. But about what he does with the data--Joe Vitalli has been doing some investigating along that line."

Vitalli nodded. "With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Emba.s.sy in Was.h.i.+ngton, through a third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets."

"So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded.

"On the nose," Steve agreed. "Now it's time to move in on our foolish friends at Calvert's Favor. Do you boys want to take a hand?"

"Try and leave us out," Rick said with a grin. "JANIG is welcome to a.s.sist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. Scotty's and mine, that is."

"Be glad to have you help," Scotty echoed.

The JANIG men laughed. "You've got a point," Chuck Howard conceded.

"Want to plan the operation?" Steve asked with a twinkle.

Rick held up his hand. "Whoa! We didn't say that. You've got information we don't have."

"Only one piece of information," Steve replied. "The time of the next launching from Wallops Island."

"When?" Rick asked eagerly.

"At dusk tonight."

CHAPTER XVIII

The Stingaree's Tail

"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach from upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'll stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they hear my signal on the radio to close in--or until they see the balloon launched. I'll go in the way I did before."

The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the houseboat.

"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "and try to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up here too, and track the balloon through my telescope--if it rises--watching until the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with Wallops Island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown reaches thirty minutes."

Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take you two to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek, underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the house."

Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It would give the whole show away!"

Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em."

Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Was.h.i.+ngton, and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic shotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk and brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached.

"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned this before you ever told us what was on your mind!"

"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how these work?"

Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which were filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. They were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted.

Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing electronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he began setting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to Wallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network.

Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one.

Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so you will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys.

"Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move into action, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can."

The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty was feeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIG operation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been as accidental partic.i.p.ants or as observers.

They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and footgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to the others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and walkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next to his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey.

Cobb was finis.h.i.+ng work on his electronic setup. His antenna was in place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compa.s.s direction to Calvert's Favor.

Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when the balloon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?"

"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?"

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The Flying Stingaree Part 23 summary

You're reading The Flying Stingaree. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Harold Leland Goodwin. Already has 572 views.

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