The Pentagon Spy (10 page)

Chet cheered up as he climbed into the bus. He grinned at them from the window, then the vehicle pulled away to go to the airport.

Frank and Joe gazed up at the enormous five-sided building from which the secretary of defense and the Joint Chiefs of Staff ran the United States Armed Forces.

“Come on, Joe. Let's go in,” Frank said.

Joe chuckled. “Maybe if we stay long enough, we'll come out three-star generals!”

From South Parking, the Hardys entered the Pentagon through the river entrance and asked for Joseph Wickerson at the information desk. The receptionist put through a call and handed the phone to Frank.

“Wickerson here,” Frank heard. “I'm finishing a report for the chief of naval operations. Come up in forty-five minutes. The room is 5E600. See you then.” Wickerson hung up.

Frank asked the receptionist how to get to room 5E600.

“It's on the fifth floor of ring E,” she explained. “The Pentagon has five floors, and there are five rings on each floor, lettered outward from the center from A to E. For instance, 1A means the first ring of the first floor, 2B means the second ring of the second floor, and so on. So, 5E means the fifth ring of the fifth floor. When you get there, look for room 600.”

With time to kill before their appointment, the Hardys strolled around the Pentagon. Joe bought a guidebook to the building at a newsstand and flipped through it.

“Each of the five sides of the Pentagon is over nine hundred feet long. That's three times the length of a football field,” he told Frank.

“I'd rather carry the ball on Bayport High field,” Frank responded. “You'd need a lot more blockers here to score a touchdown.”

He was referring to the crowds moving through the building. Civilian employees hurried in all directions. Men and women in military uniforms were reporting for their daily assignments. The Hardys noticed high-ranking officers of the army, navy, and air force walking by rapidly and saying little.

“The big brass seem bothered by something,” Joe observed.

“I'll bet they're worried about Clifford Hunter and the missing document,” Frank replied. “From what Dad said, if the submarine plan is gone for good, our whole military establishment is in big trouble.”

The Hardys went up to the second floor, noticing that only the stairs and escalators were available to them. The elevators were restricted to freight and other heavy cargo.

They walked along corridors decorated with pictures of military history from the Trojan War to the Thor Missile. When they passed the office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, they saw a sign warning, “Admittance by Authorized Credentials Only.”

Frank remarked, “Our I.D. cards won't get us in there. We'd be stopped by the guard.” Then he looked at his wristwatch. “Our forty-five minutes are nearly up. Let's go upstairs.”

Continuing to the top floor, the boys reached ring 5E. They showed their identification and were allowed to pass. When they found room 600, Frank knocked, and a moment later the door swung open.

Joseph Wickerson, a burly man with a genial smile, welcomed them into his office. A desk stood at the window, with two chairs facing it, and there was a sofa in one corner. Maps of American naval installations and pictures of naval warfare lined the walls. One picture showed the first nuclear submarine, the
Nautilus,
about to dive.

Motioning the boys into the two chairs, Wickerson sat behind his desk. He clasped his hands and looked at them with a serious expression.

“How much has your father told you about the navy's spy mystery?” he asked.

“We know a classified document belonging to the navy is missing,” Joe replied.

“Also, a civilian employee has disappeared,” Frank added. “A man named Clifford Hunter.”

Wickerson thumped his fist on the desk. “We've got to find Cliff Hunter. That's why we want you two on the case with your father. I'll explain the spy problem in a moment. But first I'd better give you the facts about the missing document.”

Wickerson pushed a button and ordered, “Tell Archie Olson to bring the MASUB plan.”

While they were waiting, Wickerson gave the boys a brief explanation of MASUB. “It stands for maser submarine. My department is perfecting a new device that uses maser beams for deep-water navigation. Cliff Hunter had responsibility for the scientific research, and Archie Olson drew up the blueprints. Both worked under my supervision. Do you know the meaning of
maser?”

Frank replied, “Microwave amplification by stimulated emission of radiation. We've been studying masers in our high-school physics lab.”

“Masers are stronger radio waves,” Joe recalled. “You trap atomic energy in crystals and increase the energy by hitting the crystals with atomic particles. A wave shoots out that's longer and stronger than a radio wave.”

“You've stated the science in a nutshell,” Wickerson complimented them. “Well, the U.S. Navy has added a wrinkle that nobody else knows about. I hope!” he added in an obvious reference to Hunter's disappearance.

“Who made the breakthrough?” Frank inquired.

“Cliff Hunter!” Wickerson boomed. “That's why we have to find him quickly. He has not only the document but also a lot of advanced nautical science in his head. A foreign power could use his knowledge of laboratory research to endanger the U.S.A.”

A knock on the door brought Archie Olson on the scene. A tall, thin man with a faraway look in his eyes, he spread the blueprint of MASUB on the desk. Taking a slide rule from his pocket, he pointed to its most important features.

“The key to our breakthrough,” he revealed, “is that we can link masers end on end indefinitely—around the world if we want to. It's done by a computer that tells the atomic propulsion device of a nuclear sub when to release the next maser and in what direction. The captain and crew can go to sleep for the voyage. The masers will take them to their destination automatically.”

Olson showed sketches of maser-producing crystals and demonstrated the relationship between the computer and the crystals. Then he explained how a computer could be programmed to keep the masers lined up.

“Can't the masers be detected?” Joe asked.

Olson shook his head. “They're protected by a nuclear shield. Here's the blueprint for the shield. Cliff Hunter worked out the formula.”

Olson paused and looked at Wickerson, clearly wondering whether he should have mentioned Hunter.

“It's all right,” Wickerson advised him. “Frank and Joe know about Hunter. In fact, they're in on the search for him.”

After more discussion of maser and nuclear subs, Olson left, taking the blueprint with him.

Wickerson said thoughtfully, “The missing document is the original blueprint of the maser-producing crystals and their linkage to the computer. It's marked
MASUB TOP-SECRET.
When you see those words, you'll know you've found the plan Hunter took.”

“Did you suspect he was a spy?” Frank queried.

Wickerson shrugged. “No, otherwise I'd have turned him in to the Pentagon security forces. But I thought there was something fishy about him after the Cosmo Rocket episode.”

“What was that?”

“The navy has a classified project on a revolutionary new type of missile for our surface fleet. It's being developed by another department, and the members of my department have to get special clearance to look at the Cosmo Rocket files. Two weeks ago I needed to examine those files, so I got clearance and went in.

“I was surprised to see Hunter at the files. I asked what he was doing there, and he said he had clearance for some work concerning the connection between the navigational systems of subs and rockets.

“Since he was one of my trusted assistants, I didn't pursue the matter—unfortunately, because I know now that his clearance was forged!”

“Did he do anything else to make you suspect him?” Joe inquired.

“Well, he seemed to be always sneaking around and poking into things that weren't his business. Looking through the papers of other scientists, things like that. But I must confess it didn't occur to me that he might be a spy.”

“Do you think he stole anything else?”

Wickerson tapped his fingers on the desk. “As far as I know, nothing else is gone. I run a tight ship, and only the MASUB document is missing from my files. I daresay Hunter fled because he knew he couldn't play the same trick on me twice.

“Of course, he got away with an immensely valuable blueprint. So, perhaps he figured one theft was enough. He'll be wealthy if he sells it to a foreign power.”

The Hardys inquired about the discovery that the MASUB document was missing.

Wickerson frowned. “I summoned Hunter into this office the day before the discovery to discuss some bugs in MASUB. We went over the problems and ironed them out. At the end, I put the blueprint in this desk drawer, and we agreed to carry on the discussion the following day. We left the office and I locked the door and went home.

“When I got here in the morning, the blueprint was gone. I called the lab to have Hunter report to me at once. He wasn't there. So I asked them to send Archie Olson, who told me he saw Hunter leaving my office after hours the night before. Archie thought I was in the office at the time. Actually, I was out of the building.”

“Hunter must have had a key to the office, since he came back after you left,” Joe inferred.

Wickerson nodded. “He wasn't supposed to, but I imagine he contrived in some underhanded way to have a duplicate made. I wouldn't put it past him. He's a clever fellow. That's why he's so dangerous.”

“What did he do after leaving your office?” Joe wondered.

Wickerson slammed the table in disgust. “He simply walked out of the building as he did every evening. Only this time he was carrying the MASUB document with him. At first it didn't hit me that anything was really wrong. I thought he'd come in with a good explanation. When I couldn't find him anywhere, I realized he had fled. Then came word that he was last seen at Chelski's Marina in Chesapeake Crossing. And now you know as much as I do.”

“We're going from here to Chesapeake Crossing,” Frank said. “We'll try to pick up his trail from there.”

“Well, I'm glad I have you boys on the case,” Wickerson assured them. “After all, you're sons of Fenton Hardy, who has done vital undercover work for the Pentagon in the past. You'll do your country a great service if you find Hunter and retrieve the sub blueprint he took.”

Promising they would do their best, the Hardys left Wickerson's office and descended to the concourse of the Pentagon. They passed an exhibition of navy exploration in the waters around the Antarctic continent.

Joe paused for a look. “Frank, they've got a lot of mysteries to solve down there,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, but no one can waltz off with the evidence. It would be a long swim home.”

They went to South Parking, where Frank started the car and headed for an exit. He was nearly there when a car flashed out of a parking slot and cut in front of him. Frank hit the brakes in an effort to prevent a collision!

The car stopped with a jolt that threw Joe heavily against the dashboard. The speeding car flew out the exit and roared off toward the Potomac.

Frank stared after it. “Joe, did you see who that driver was?”

Joe flopped back in his seat and rubbed his twisted shoulder. “No. Did you?”

“I sure did. He was Archie Olson!”

Joe winced in pain. “Olson may be a whiz of a scientist, but he's a lousy driver! He nearly racked us up!”

“Maybe he did it deliberately.”

Joe stared at his brother. “But why would he do a thing like that? If you hadn't hit the brakes so fast, he'd have been knocked out in the collision, too!”

“Not if he expected me to panic and pile us up against one of the parked cars,” Frank pointed out. “He'd have escaped, but we'd be in the hospital.”

“And off the spy case!” Joe followed his brother's theory. “In other words, he may be a suspect!”

“Sure. He might be in cahoots with Hunter! We'd better let Mr. Wickerson know about this!”

Frank went back into the Pentagon and called from a pay phone. When Wickerson answered, the young detective described the near accident in South Parking and explained why he and Joe suspected Olson.

“Archie!” Wickerson exclaimed. “I would never have thought it of him. But you can bet I'll keep an eye on him from now on. Thanks for the tip.”