The Sting of the Scorpion (17 page)

It was a gray day with few visitors, so the terrorists seized the opportunity to dump the satchel with its damaging evidence. One of them spotted the rocky crevices near the creek and jumped out of the car long enough to hide the satchel in one of them. They planned to retrieve it as soon as possible, but when they returned to the park about ten days later, they found the site occupied by the newly set-up elephant compound.

Jarman, the gang's leader, was furious at this turn of events. The written material in the satchel identified the various members and incriminated him as the Scorpion. Though well out of sight in the rocky crevice, the satchel might be discovered by a trainer or park attendant. Jarman realized it must be retrieved at all costs, or he might face disgrace, ruin, and a possible life sentence for his terrorist activities.

“What was a big-shot businessmen like Jarman doing, leading a terrorist outfit?” asked one State Trooper.

“He was sympathetic to a foreign power and was aware of the dirigibles' military capabilities. The gang was financed by this power, and he used them as a weapon to attack and ruin competitors,” Mr. Hardy replied. “One of them was the Quinn Air Fleet.”

“He wanted to make sure his fleet would have the only serviceable airships in the country,” Frank explained.

The gang had first tried to retrieve the satchel by breaking into the park at night, but had been frustrated by the alarm. Later they had flown in aboard a baby blimp, but again they had drawn a blank when Sinbad's angry trumpeting brought Pop Carter and the watchmen to investigate.

Joe snapped his fingers. “The blimp was that ‘dark shape' Pop saw soaring up and away through the trees!”

“And when we came here Monday,” Frank added, “Sinbad must have recognized those two crooks in the car behind us. That's why he kicked up a fuss!”

“Reckon you're both right.” Pop chuckled.

Desperate to recover the satchel, Jarman had tried every way possible to force Pop Carter to sell out, including ordering the real-estate firm Bohm worked for, a subsidiary of Jarman Ventures, to buy Wild World.

The Hardys posed a fresh obstacle. The phony code message luring Frank and Joe to Rocky Isle and the Scorpio symbol trick to get them to Sandy Point had both been attempts to use the boys as pawns to force Fenton Hardy off the case.

The detective chuckled. “I'd say they turned out to be considerably more than pawns!” he said ironically.

Jarman's response was an angry glare at the boys. The dropped note picked up by Leroy had been a deliberate part of the tycoon's scheme. And the attempt to sabotage the boys' car, as well as the vinegaroon episode had been other moves to harass the Hardys.

Following their flight from New York, the gang separated and went under cover. Jarman flashed green light signals from the park Ferris wheel instructing the crook hiding out on Rocky Isle to come ashore and transmit the boss's orders to the other gang members.

With the case closed and all terrorists in custody, Fenton Hardy, his sons, and Chet Morton went to talk to Lloyd Quinn the next day.

When they arrived at the air-fleet terminal, they found Terry Embrow seated glumly in Quinn's office.

“We're wondering if you couldn't see your way clear to keep Terry on,” Mr. Hardy asked the airship owner.

“What? This sneaky young thug!” Quinn roared angrily, glaring at Terry. Then he grinned and added in his normal tone of voice, “He's one of the best men in my crew! If he can assure me that there will never again be another incident, I'll keep him on!”

Terry could hardly believe his good luck. He promised good behavior and tried, with a dazed expression, to thank his boss.

“Don't thank me—thank the Hardys,” Quinn said. “And by the way, fellows, that pipeline company wants to sign a contract right away, chartering the services of our new
Arctic Queen,
now that they know the real story behind those explosions!”

“Then the sky's the limit for the dirigible business!” Chet exclaimed enthusiastically. “Speaking of which—how about a sky-high malt, fellows?”