Frank and Joe stared at Radley. "What do you mean our father is one of the conspirators?" Joe asked.
"I'll try to explain, but time is of the essence, Joe." Radley opened a spiral bound Rand-McNally road atlas and set it out on the dining room table.
Chet entered. "Your mother is in a bedroom resting, fellows," the portly lad announced.
"Thanks, old chum," Frank answered. "I loathe seeing mother so wracked with nerves."
Radley was tracing his finger from Dallas in northeast Texas southeast towards Houston. "There was a meeting location here," he said.
"But you said he was en route to Galveston," Joe interjected, tapping the name of the Texas island city on the Gulf Coast.
"Yes. Houston was Point A, Galveston Point B," Radley mused.
"Was there a Point C?" Chet asked.
Radley nodded. "Mexico."
"Of course," Frank slapped his forehead. "From Galveston one could take a plane or boat into Mexico, easy."
"But whoever kidnapped Dad," Joe said, "must have unmasked him as a mole."
Radley locked his briefcase. "I'm off to rendezvous with our contact in Houston. Every second counts."
Mrs. Hardy entered the living room. "Be careful, Sam." Frank and Joe rushed to be alongside their mother. "But please find Fenton quickly."
Radley nodded, then paused. "I could use some help, Ma'am." He glanced at the boys.
The boys shot a look at their mother. "What can we do, Sam?" Joe cried.
"I need eyes in Galveston. Your father may have been headed here," Radley said as he jotted down an address. "I'll also add the telephone number you can reach me in Houston. Use the moniker 'Evans' when contacting."
Radley said good-bye to Mrs. Hardy and the boys. He exited the house through the back.
Joe and Frank tried to comfort their mother. "We know you're worried, Mother."
The radio announcer reported Air Force One had just landed in Washington. The Hardys and Chet listened in silence for a moment.
"If Dad could he would have stopped what happened to the president," Joe remarked, fists clenching.
Mrs. Hardy nodded. "I know, Joe," she said. Then she took her boys' hands. "I'll call the airfield to see if Jack Wayne is available."
Frank and Joe embraced their mother. Chet was about to bite into a slice of pizza when he caught Frank and Joe's eyes.
"Can Chet Morton help their pals with solving the crime of the century?" Frank asked, managing a weak smile.
Jack Wayne was in a grim mood tending to his 1948 Stinson plane, Skyhappy Sal, when the Hardys and Chet arrived at the pilot's hangar. "Boy, it's good to see you," he said, shaking hands and forcing a smile. "This is a nightmare."
Radley spoke to Jack while the youthful trio made their way to the airport. "I was part of the small network your father kept informed on his movements," he explained after Skyhappy Sal was cleared for takeoff.
"Do you know the group he infiltrated, Jack?" Frank asked through the headset.
"Somewhat, Frank," Jack Wayne replied from the cockpit. "Fenton had embedded himself in a detective agency out of New Orleans. Name of Guy Banister and Associates."
"Was his cover blown?" Joe asked.
"Unclear at the moment. Your father was building quite a case on this outfit, however."
"Did they have something to do with the president's murder, Mr. Wayne?" Chet asked, brow furrowed.
"Also unclear, Chet," Jack replied. "I recommend trying to get some shut eye for a moment."
The four flew in silence for over an hour, the youths drifting in and out of fitful sleep.
Skyhappy Sal was over the Appalachian Mountains when the engine sputtered. The Hardys immediately were awake and alert. Chet continued snoring.
"Everything normal, Jack?" Frank asked.
"Strange," Jack muttered. He worked controls and levers in silence. The boys exchanged worried glances.
Wayne tapped the transponder and other instruments. The experienced pilot grabbed the radio. "Charleston control, Stinson IR5-Three One Six Zero Foxtrot, over," he said.
Now awake, Chet grasped what was unfolding. His sweaty palms gripped the armrest.
After no answer, Wayne tried again. By now the plane was dipping considerably. Jagged mountain points loomed below them.
Wayne gave up on the radio and placed both hands on the yoke, his concentration fixed on the expanse of land before him.
"Boys, I can't be sure right now, but Sal might have been sabotaged," Jack said haltingly. "Better suit up."
Without a moment's hesitation, Frank and Joe quickly produced their parachutes from under their seats.
"Suit up?" Chet gulped.
"Hurry, Chet," Frank advised as he slung the straps of the pack over his shoulders.
While Chet grudgingly complied he said, "You fellows sure seem like you've done this before."
"First time for everything," Joe replied, securing his straps.
Indeed, of all their adventures, the Hardys were never forced to evacuate an aircraft.
"Shall I give it a try, Jack?" Frank asked, leaning into the cockpit.
"Negative, Frank," Jack replied, removing his headset. "Abort now. We have to bail."
Chet Morton shook as he stood up. Joe placed a reassuring hand on the plump boy's shoulder.
"Okay, fellows," Jack said as he gripped the emergency door handle. "Pull your cords as soon as you are airborne."
After a moment, he unlatched the door. "Go, go, go!" he shouted.
Frank, Joe, Chet and finally Jack leapt from a plummeting Skyhappy Sal. As they free fell the four each ripped their paracords. A plume of four white chutes billowed over the Appalachian peaks.
Hundreds of feet away, an unmanned Skyhappy Sal exploded into the mountains.
Unbeknownst to the floating escapees, a white Cessna caromed into view. Its occupants, two stoic middle-aged men, watched the explosion. The passenger followed the plight of the parachuters through binoculars.
The man calmly spoke into the radio. "Cessna DWF, over."
A voice crackled in response. "Go ahead."
"Targets have escaped, repeat, targets have escaped."
"Coordinates?"
The passenger consulted an instrument dial. "38.5976 N, 80.4549 W, over."
"Copy. Return to base, over."
"10-4."
The Cessna banked and routed back.
Frank, Joe, Chet and Jack Wayne landed within a hundred yards of each other on a partly snowy summit somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains.