The Arctic Patrol Mystery Read Free Page A

guard this machine and the codebook carefully. These may be a lot more important on the second case I’m investigating.”
    â€œIs it connected with Iceland?” Joe asked.
    â€œVery possibly. I want you to leave on tonight’s Loftleidir flight to Reykjavik.”
    Frank made reservations immediately. After their father had left, Joe telephoned Chet.
    â€œWe’re leaving for Kennedy International Airport at six,” he said. “So bring your gear over to the house at five o’clock.”
    By four all was ready at the Hardy home. As the boys were locking their suitcases, a call came from police headquarters. Frank talked to the chief, and when he had finished, relayed the information to his brother. The prisoner had been identified. He was from New York City, a thug for hire, and seemed fearful about mentioning his employer.
    â€œThe other two made a getaway,” Frank said. “They’re probably in New York. Police there have been alerted.”
    Half an hour later Frank and Joe were amazed to see Chet’s car pull up in front quietly and without backfiring. “Oh, oh, there’s the reason,” Joe said with a big grin. Frank looked out the window to see Iola at the wheel with Callie Shaw sitting beside her.
    The Hardys ran out to greet them. Chet occupied the rear seat along with his suitcase, a flight bag, an extra heavy overcoat, and a small camera and a radio slung around his neck.
    â€œI thought I’d better drive,” Iola said with a dimpled smile, “because we wanted Chet to start his trip in good health.”
    â€œI just came along to say good-by,” said Callie, looping her arm through Frank’s.
    â€œChet, bring the stuff over here,” Joe suggested. “We’ll put it all in our car. Iola can drive it back and pick up the jalopy here.”
    Perspiring under the load of all his equipment, Chet deposited his baggage beside the Hardys’ car.
    When good-bys had been said to Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude, he reached down to pick up a black box. “Here, Iola, take this home. I won’t need it. Frank and Joe have their short-wave radio.”
    Iola put the instrument aside, and the three boys loaded their belongings into the convertible.
    â€œGot everything?” Joe asked.
    â€œYes,” Frank replied.
    The girls drove them to Bayport Airport in a matter of minutes. There they boarded a plane that arrived at Kennedy International Airport in ample time to sign in for the Icelandic trip.
    After they had checked in with Loftleidir, Chet asked the ticket clerk, “Do you serve dinner on this flight?”
    â€œYes, sir. About an hour after you’re airborne.”
    Chet rolled his eyes with a pleased expression. They headed for Gate 18, where a sleek jetliner was taking on passengers. The boys entered through the front and walked toward the rear. Three seats were on either side of the aisle. Joe sat next to the window, while Chet slipped into the aisle seat, leaving Frank the place in the middle.
    Then the plane’s door was shut and it taxied to a runway. Buzzing like a bottled bumblebee, the huge craft lifted off and headed out across the sea toward the north.
    Soon seat belts were removed and the boys tilted their seats back to enjoy the flight. By this time darkness had settled over the ocean beneath them.
    The attractive stewardesses began bringing trays of food. Frank and Joe, being on the inside, were served first.
    â€œWhat, no more food left?” Chet asked with a worried expression.
    The stewardess smiled down at him. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
    When she returned, Chet started a conversation. “We’re going to Iceland to see the Eskimos.”
    â€œOh, really?” The dark-haired girl repressed a laugh. “But there aren’t any Eskimos in Iceland.”
    â€œWhat?” Chet was perplexed.
    Touching her fingers one at a time, the stewardess explained, “There