Chapter IX
ATLANTIS SYMBOLS
That evening at the Hardy home on Elm and High Streets, Mrs. Hardy gladly prepared a large meal of spaghetti and meatballs for the Bayport high schoolers. No one was more pleased than Chet Morton, who helped himself to three heaping piles of pasta over the course of the meal.
While at table, Mr. Hardy set forth the significance of going up against so unruly a group as what the Syndicate appeared to be. He warned that should any of them wish to remove themselves from being involved, it would be completely understandable. Frank and Joe concurred with their father, and stressed to their friends that their own safety is paramount.
"We're with Frank and Joe on this until the end, Mr. Hardy," Biff attested. The others agreed.
After the teenagers cleaned up, put the dishes in the washer, and scrubbed out the larger kitchenware, Mr. Hardy invited the troupe out to the office in the barn to lay out a plan of attach for going forward.
"They're on the run, but it doesn't mean we're out of the woods," he explained before Frank, Joe, Chet, Biff, Iola, and Callie. "In fact, it might be even tougher now to pinpoint the Syndicate and their dealings."
"Dad, Orangethorpe is the key," Joe said firmly. "The biggest mistake those thugs did was to say his name out loud."
Having learned about Callie's research assignment, Mr. Hardy turned to her. "Callie, dig up everything you can find about Mr. Orangethorpe. Especially look at his business relationship with Harwood van Bueren."
"Sure will!" she said.
"Iola, we need to find out the identity of the young men who have been purchasing the Taylor Gang books at Sinclair's. Maybe there are other owners on Main Street who have leads. Can you ask around?"
"You bet," she replied.
"Chet, Biff, Frank, Joe, meet me tomorrow at 6:30 in the morning. I'm going to introduce you to someone I've come to trust with my life."
"B-but that's the first day of spring break!" Chet found himself uttering.
Mr. Hardy looked at the plump boy. "You didn't think I'd leave out breakfast, would you, Chet?"
"O-of course," Chet stammered, "I don't look forward to being branded by a flaming metal rod, so, 6:30 it is, Mr. Hardy!"
That night, Biff and Chet stayed late assisting Frank and Joe in tidying up their ransacked bedroom. When it finally returned to a bit of normalcy, Joe propped up against his bed headboard and read the opening of the new Taylor Gang book Iola brought him, the revised version of Book X, Atlantis Symbols.
"Joe, I'm beat and we need to get up early," an exhausted Frank yawned from his own bed. "I'm turning out the light."
"That's okay," his brother complied. The room went dark for a minute before Joe turned on his flashlight. He was already three chapters into the book and wanted to keep reading.
Atlantis Symbols was about the Taylor Gang involved in an undersea expedition of a sunken island believed to be the lost city of Atlantis. There they discover engravings that lead them on an adventure to find a treasure.
But the more Joe read, the more he realized it was less about the treasure than the Taylor Gang discovering a group of people who believe themselves to be the descendants of the ancient Atlanteans. These Atlanteans continue to believe that Atlantis will rise again and they will become its rulers.
It was in the eighth chapter an hour later when Joe let out a startled cry. "Frank, wake up!"
Frank stirred, bemoaning the distraction. "What time is it?" he mumbled.
"You have to listen to this," his brother urged, turning on the bedroom light.
Frank sat upright, squinting. Joe excitedly held up the book. "From page 79," he said. Then he read the following:
"Tim, Ed, Janie and Chris decided the first clue was the location of the tomb. The area around it was overgrown and abandoned, but still something seemed terribly wrong.
'This is what happens when ideals shrivel up,' their guide, Tomaso, was saying. 'Atlantean ideals must live forever. They transcend any law or policy'."
"A little odd," Frank admitted.
"I'm just setting the stage with that," Joe said. "They go into the tomb, which leads into an underground tunnel."
"Then what happens?" Frank asked, curious.
Joe continued:
"Ahead they could see flickering shadows of light along the dampened cavern. Tomaso had warned them but they could not believe their eyes when they finally inched forward. There the tunnel opened and below the Taylor Gang looked out at the sight before them: A circle of Atlanteans holding torches chanted before a bonfire."
Frank leaned forward, astonished. "Just like the other night," he gasped.
Joe nodded. "Exactly. But here's the twist: the Atlanteans welcome the Taylor Gang into the circle and ordain them as fellow Atlanteans, ritualistically passing on their knowledge to them for them to bring it back to the world of men."
Frank shook his head. "So you think it's not a coincidence what we saw and this scene in the book?"
"I think it's related, yes. Of course, I don't necessarily mean to suggest the Orangethorpe people are Atlanteans, but maybe…" he trailed off, wondering if he should voice his thought.
But Frank answered it himself. "Either they knew about the scene in the book and were recreating it, or…"
"Harwood van Bueren was somewhere in that group at the bonfire," Joe concluded.
Frank grasped the implication for a moment. "Harwood van Bueren himself might be sending messages through these books."
By the time they both fell asleep it was very late, but neither could wrestle from their minds the link between the scene in the book and the scene they encountered at the now abandoned ranch outside Hixon.
The possibility that the beloved author Harwood van Bueren was somehow mixed up in the syndicate was too much on their minds for the Hardys to get solid sleep. They agreed to keep their theory to themselves for the time being.
The next morning was a crisp, spring Saturday dawn. Biff and Chet met the Hardys for a thoroughly delicious breakfast of omelets before setting out. Mr. Hardy demurred on where exactly they would be going.
After breakfast, Biff and Chet followed Mr. Hardy's rented car in the Queen as they made their way out of the sleepy town.
"Boy, I sure hope we're not headed back out to that creepy occult ranch," Chet muttered.
"Actually, I think we're going right here!" Biff pointed as they pulled into the entranceway to Bayport Airfield.
Small, private planes, corresponding hangars, and a control tower dotted the expansive area, with a single airstrip painted in the middle. There was little movement at the airfield this morning, except for one individual tinkering at a blue aircraft outside a hangar. He waved at the approaching automobiles, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.
Fenton approached him first, patting him on the shoulder. "How are you, Jack? How's Skyhappy Sal doing today?
"Ready for a spin!" came the hearty reply.
Mr. Hardy said, "Boys, I'd like you to meet Jack Wayne. You met Frank and Joe before, you might recall."
"Of course," he answered.
"Hi Mr. Wayne," Frank greeted the pilot.
"Jack, please," he replied. The others promptly introduced themselves.
"Still thinking about that pilot license?" he asked Frank and Joe with a grin.
"If we had more time to practice!" Joe responded.
"Jack's kind enough to meet us this morning so you can get more acquainted with the sky," Mr. Hardy said. Glancing at Biff and Chet he added, "All of you." Biff and Chet exchanged dumbfounded glances.
"I met Jack a few years ago when we first moved to Bayport," Mr. Hardy continued. "Since then I've hired Jack on a number of cases and chartered Skyhappy Sal, most recently to the Yucatán."
Then Mr. Hardy turned to Jack. "Jack, they're all yours."
"Ok, then," Jack Wayne said. "Boys, strap in."
Surprised, the boys excitedly climbed into the silver-winged aircraft and buckled up. Frank took the co-pilot position next to Jack. The others crawled into the rear.
Within moments, Skyhappy Sal taxied to the runaway, and was away into the air, swiftly above Bayport and the dark grey of the sprawling ocean.
For the next 45 minutes, Jack circled the city, ascending and descending to various heights. Having had previous cockpit experience, Frank assisted Jack with the necessary controls.
Through the earpieces that each wore, Jack communicated things to watch for when flying, such as fuel tank, altitude, weather, and any discernible aircraft that might be in view. Frank and Joe were particularly intrigued at the nuances of flying, as they had been hoping to spend more time in the air. Biff and Chet, having never been in a private plane before, enjoyed the experience.
When they returned to the airfield, they found Mr. Hardy waiting for them. "Well, how was it?" he asked.
"Great!" Joe exclaimed. "Dad," he asked, "are you wanting us to get certified?"
"In due time," his father replied. "But for now, let's let Jack handle that aspect of flying."
The four boys looked at each other, confused. Mr. Hardy and Jack laughed.
"I know you're wondering what you are doing here," Mr. Hardy continued. "But I wanted you to get the jitters out now."
"J-jitters?" Chet asked.
Mr. Hardy nodded. "I've already spoken with your parents, Biff, and Chet."
"What did I do?" Biff asked innocently.
"Not like that," the Hardy father answered him. "But they gave me their consent, provided I'll be with you. In fact, I'll be able to meet up with you tonight. But for now, you have the rest of the day to pack."
"What's going on, Dad?" Frank asked.
"You're going to New York to continue the investigation of the Syndicate," Fenton replied flatly. "And Jack's flying you there this afternoon."