Smugglers' Reef Part 30

"Because you'd be afraid those two wild men in the airplane would report it to the police? Maybe you're right, Rick. We'd better get Captain Douglas and his men on the job right away!"

The street lights of Whiteside were in sight now. Rick took a bearing from them and swung slightly northward to pick up the airport. Then he saw the beacon. He had not bothered to climb after leaving the s.h.i.+ps, so he pa.s.sed over Spindrift at an alt.i.tude of five hundred feet. He knew his parents would hear the Cub and know he had returned this far safely. His palms were moist with perspiration and he had to swallow to clear his throat. Now that the moment of landing was here, his nervousness was returning. He leaned forward, watching for the airport marker lights and saw them directly ahead. The airport wasn't big or important enough to rate runway lights or a lighted wind sock, but those wouldn't have helped much anyway. He knew from watching the sea that the wind was negligible. And anywhere he landed on the field would be all right.

He throttled down and the nose automatically dropped to the correct glide position. Then, as he saw the red marker lights rus.h.i.+ng to meet him, he threw on the landing lights. White swaths of light picked out trees and the boundary fence. The Cub flashed across into the open, dropping steadily. The ground seemed to come up appallingly fast, but Rick kept his nerve. It was only an illusion, he knew. The Cub was at the correct approach angle. But the illusion made it hard to tell when to level off. He waited a second too long, and his wheels touched and the Cub bounced. He threw power into the engine and the little plane lifted into the air once more.

"Tricky," he muttered when Scotty looked at him.

Scotty sat up a little straighter. "You're telling me?"

Rick went around the airport again and banked around tightly into the approach. His jaw was set firmly and he watched the field so closely that his eyes watered. He'd make it this time! He cut the gun and the nose dropped. He waited as the runway came up, trying to gauge his height by the gra.s.s that showed clearly in the landing lights. Slowly he eased the control wheel back and the plane leveled off. Slowly and more slowly. They were eating up runway rapidly. Scotty shot him an anxious look. Then, with feather lightness, the wheels touched. The tail settled gracefully and they were on the ground. Rick applied the brakes and the Cub slowed to a stop. He wiped his forehead.

Scotty leaned over and solemnly shook hands.

Rick gave the plane the gun again and taxied rapidly to the hangar, switching out his lights as he went.

Made it, he thought jubilantly. First night flight, safely over. And that's not all. We got what we went after!

CHAPTER XVII

Enter the Police

Duke Barrows was waiting at the hangar when Rick and Scotty got out of the Cub. "I can see the headlines now," he greeted them with a grin.

"Young Birdmen Fly by Night. Subhead: Get Up Early to Catch Worms Who Break Law."

"Speaking of getting up early," Rick retorted. He pointed to where growing paleness in the east announced the coming of daylight. "How did you know we'd be landing?"

"My house is near here," Duke reminded them. "I heard you buzz the field a while ago and I knew you must have gotten the call. So I dressed and came over. I hadn't gone to sleep after getting home, anyway. Editors of morning papers are night owls, remember. Well, how did it go?"

Rick reached into the Cub and drew out his camera. He held it up triumphantly. "The evidence is in here," he said happily. "We caught 'em in the act, Duke." Then he sobered. "But we're worried." He told the editor about their misgivings.

"Hmmmm." Barrows gazed at the night sky reflectively. "I agree that Marbek probably wouldn't throw the stuff overboard, but he might streak for port. I think we'd better give Captain Douglas a call. We want state troopers waiting at Creek House when the _Albatross_ arrives."

Scotty groaned. "If they go now, that means we won't get any sleep."

"You hadn't better plan on going with the troopers," Duke said. "They probably prefer to handle things their own way. Besides, it might mean waiting all day. I'd say it was more important for you to get that film developed. I don't suppose you saw the name of the s.h.i.+p Marbek was getting his stuff from?"

"I didn't even think about it," Rick confessed. "I planned to, then when the time came it slipped my mind completely. I was too busy flying the plane and taking pictures."

Duke looked at the camera curiously. Rick had described it to him.

"It's hard to believe that you actually got pictures at night. I'm anxious to see them."

"Me, too," Scotty agreed.

"Let's get organized," Barrows said. "First of all, how do you plan to get the film developed?"

"There's a lab in New York that gives 24-hour service. They can develop infrared, too. I hate to think how much they will charge me."

"Can individual frames of the film be blown up and made into decent pictures?"

Rick nodded. "The result looks a little grainy, but it can be done."

"All right. Give me exclusive rights to use the pictures and the paper will pay for them. Let me have the film and the address of the lab. I'll send Jerry to New York with them first thing this morning.

Then we can have them back tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"

"Swell."

"Good. Now let's hop into my car and take a run over to the State Police Barracks. We'll get Captain Douglas out of bed and you can tell him your story. He'll know how to carry the ball from there."

Scotty got the binoculars from the Cub. He and Rick staked the plane down, then hurried to the editor's car.

The police barracks were just outside of town on the Newark turnpike.

Captain Douglas was in bed, but he got up quickly enough when the sergeant on duty gave him the names of the three visitors. Rick described their night's work while the officer finished dressing. When he had finished, Captain Douglas, a strapping man who had been a Marine officer before retiring and joining the state force, nodded briskly.

"Good work, Rick. I want to see that film the minute you know whether your camera worked well enough for evidence. Now, m'lads, I've got to get to work. Instead of barging into Creek House with sirens wailing, I just think I'll put a pair of my boys in civilian clothes on the job, one on the water front and the other at the bridge. I have a pair of squad cars without insignia or state license plates that will be useful, and both of them are radio-equipped. The minute this trawler shows up, we'll know about it and we'll move in on them. I'll ask for a search warrant soon as I can get someone on the phone at the main office. How does that strike you?"

"It sounds all right," Rick said. "But where do we come in?"

"You don't," Captain Douglas retorted. "You go home and go to bed. The only thing you could do would be to hang around here all day waiting, because we couldn't let you go to Seaford and perhaps tip off the gang by accident. They must know it was your plane, and they're crazy if they don't a.s.sume you'll call the police. If no police show up and you don't either, it may lull their suspicions somewhat. Tell you what.

I'll phone Duke, or have the desk man do it, the minute we hear anything and he can phone you."

And with that, the two boys had to be content. Rick ran the rest of the film through his camera, unloaded it, and handed the can of film to Duke Barrows. The editor drove them to the boat landing. "With any luck," he said as they got from the car, "we may let folks read all about it within a couple of days. See you later, fellows."

Although it was scarcely daylight, Mr. and Mrs. Brant were already up and having an early breakfast. Rick knew it was just that they had worried about Scotty and him, and he felt a little thrill of pride in them. Even though they had worried, they had confidence in him and so they had let him go. He was glad that he and Scotty always had played square with them, sharing their adventures and discussing their problems.

Over breakfast, the boys related the story of their night flight while the Brants listened with interest. "It wasn't bad at all," Rick finished. "I did have one tough moment when we landed the first time, because I was a little too tense. But the second time was smooth as anything."

"I'm glad you went right to Ed Douglas," Hartson Brant said approvingly. "These kinds of jobs belong to the law, Rick. An amateur can go only so far, and then if he's wise, he calls the police."

They had barely finished breakfast when the phone rang. It was Cap'n Mike. He said that he had been standing on first one leg then the other ever since he first phoned, and would they please tell him what had happened.

Scotty obliged with a dramatic report and Cap'n Mike exclaimed his delight so loudly that Rick could hear him half the room away. Scotty hung up and grinned. "He's going to sort of wander over to that part of town himself, just to keep track of what's going on."

"Hope he doesn't attract any attention," Rick said.

"He's too smart for that. Well, what now? To bed to catch up on that sleep we missed?"

Rick couldn't have slept a wink, and he said as much. He was too wound up. "Let's go back to Whiteside," he suggested. "It's full daylight now and one of us might as well bring the Cub back."

"I'll do it," Scotty offered. "You've been getting all the practice, and you're the one who doesn't need it."

On the way over by boat, Rick reviewed again the events of the night.

"Funny that the freighter was heading south," he said. In the cold light of day, his speculation that there might be a whole smuggling ring up and down the coast didn't look too sensible. "Of course she may have reached there before Brad showed up and circled while she was waiting. We didn't hang around to see if she headed north again after they finished unloading."

"That could be it," Scotty nodded. "Probably is. Listen, what happens to the freighter if the police catch Brad with the goods?"