Trouble in the Pipeline (11 page)

Hammond pushed himself up to standing. His head was still bowed and he was unable to speak.

"And what about Scott Sanders? Where's he?" Joe asked. "We came up here to find him, and you lied to us."

"I didn't lie — I honestly don't know what happened to him." Hammond looked over at his managers. "Carter here told me that we had a problem with some of the workers."

One of the men in the group nodded cautiously.

"I was told that some guys knew about the money and were beginning to make trouble. We got on the horn to North Slope, and they said they'd take care of it. That's all I knew."

"So you don't have any idea where Scott is?" Frank asked.

Hammond shook his head. "Maybe he's with them — probably at their main office. They used to have a big equipment depot outside of town, but they had an explosion out there, right before all this started."

Frank leaned in when he heard the word explosion, his face grim. "I'm beginning to see why they kept Scott and let Doug go," he said. "Scott was a demolitions expert in the army."

"I don't understand," Hammond said.

"They got their hands on Scott right after an explosion wrecked their depot outside of town. I bet they lost more than equipment out there, I bet they lost their bomb expert in that explosion, too."

"Bomb expert?" Then the pieces clicked together for Joe. "They're going to blow up the pipeline!"

Frank was now face-to-face with Hammond. "How many people did you give jobs to? Where are they working?"

"It's hard to say," Hammond responded. "We had a lot of requests. ... And I don't know exactly where they all work."

"So they could be anywhere along the line? Anywhere?" Joe asked, as if it were impossible to imagine such a thing.

"I'm afraid so," Hammond admitted.

"So, as far as you know, your entire company is infiltrated by terrorists! Do you know what that means? It means that the Assassins can disrupt the entire world oil supply!" Joe said.

"At the very least, they can upset the supply for our country," Frank said, frowning. "How much of our oil comes from the Prudhoe Bay oil fields?"

"About fifteen percent," Hammond mumbled.

"That's enough to cause chaos if it suddenly got cut off," Joe said.

"And they're using Scott to help build their bombs." Frank shook his head.

"You know what you've done, Mr. Hammond?" Cindy said. "You've sold your country down the river." She came closer to the group and stood near the men she'd worked with at Trans-Yukon.

Hammond crossed to a large rock and sat down, burying his face in his hands again.

"What can we do? Go to the authorities?" he asked.

Another of his managers spoke up. "Spike, if you do that, it'll be over for all of us."

Joe looked at the guy as if he'd just crawled out from under a rock. "It will be over, but for a different reason."

"Joe's right," Frank said. "Once the Assassins realize this guy isn't coming back, they'll probably push their schedule up. I've never known them to call off an operation."

"So what should we do?" Hammond asked again.

Frank looked at him. "We'll have to think fast, and we'll need all the help you can give us. If you and your men come through, I'm sure the authorities will be easy on you, if and when we save the pipeline."

"You've got our help. Count on that. Right, men?" Hammond turned to his three managers, who were standing together, some distance from him. They stared at him blankly.

"Right, men?" he asked again.

The three looked at one another, then one of them stepped forward. He was called Carter, and he looked as if he had been elected to act as spokesman.

But as he passed Cindy, he dodged behind her. One of his arms whipped around her neck. A gun appeared in his other hand, and he pressed it to Cindy's head.

"Sorry, Hammond. No deal!" Carter said, holding Cindy in front of him like a shield. "Just give us the money and we'll get out of here."

Hammond stared at Carter. "Are you out of your mind?" he shouted. "Where are you going to go? You can't walk away from this!"

"Watch us," Carter said. "Right, guys?"

The other two managers grouped behind Cindy and Carter as Joe raised his gun.

"Don't try it, kid!" Carter shouted. "Just give us the money and no one will get hurt!"

Hammond looked at Frank and Joe.

"We've got no choice. Give them the bag," Frank said.

Hammond stepped forward, picked up the bag, and set it down in front of his managers. One of them reached out and picked it up.

"Don't do this!" Hammond begged. "We've got another chance. We can make up for our mistakes."

"Hammond, you kidded yourself about how to save the company — now you're kidding yourself about this." The sneer in Carter's voice was almost like a slap in the face. "You'll rot in prison no matter what you try to do now. And we don't want to rot with you."

"That's not true," Frank said. "They'll — "

"Save it," Carter snarled. "Back off."

He motioned with his head, and the group began to back up toward the one remaining chopper. Tanook, sensing something was wrong, began to whimper. Carter glared at the dog.

"You'd better keep that mutt away from us, or we'll kill him," he warned.

Virgil put a hand on Tanook's head, and the dog fell silent.

"You can't do this!" Hammond screamed. "Wake up and smell the coffee! If you guys split now, you'll go down in history as traitors. The whole world will know about this. The feds will be after you for the rest of your lives."

"What are you, running for office?" another one of the managers said. "There's enough here for us all to get away — if we don't have to waste it on saving your crock of a company."

The three managers continued to back up toward the chopper. Once they reached it, two scrambled to the doors. Carter remained in front, continuing to hold Cindy.

"Throw your guns over here," he said, digging the barrel of his revolver harder into Cindy's temple.

Joe and Frank put the safety switches on and tossed their weapons forward. The side door of the chopper slid open, and Carter stepped up, still dragging Cindy along.

"You're not taking her!" Joe yelled. "There's no point!"

"I'll toss her out when I'm ready," Carter yelled back. "Just keep your distance and everything will be all right!"

Joe and Frank watched as the engine of the chopper coughed to life. The blades began to rotate. They could still see Cindy, standing by the side door of the helicopter, Carter holding a gun to her head.

At the last minute, as the chopper began to lift from the ground, Carter gave Cindy a shove. She landed on her feet and then fell onto her hands. She half ran, half crawled to avoid the overhead blades.

The copter lifted rapidly, rising to a height of thirty feet. Carter was still standing in the open hatchway, laughing down at the Hardys, Hammond, and Virgil.

And just at that instant a huge noise erupted within the chopper's belly. The helicopter exploded. Its thin walls blew out, and the rotary blades wobbled wildly into space. The sky filled with glass and chunks of metal. Huge pieces of fiberglass spun through the air like misshapen Frisbees.

Where there had been a helicopter full of men, there was now a boiling fireball. Smoke roiled around the flames. On the ground Joe yelled, "Down! Quick!" Pieces of wreckage started to rain down from the sky to pierce their bodies like shrapnel.

JOE AND CINDY were protected under a dead bush as the sky gradually emptied itself of debris. Frank, Virgil, and Tanook had found shelter of a sort behind the boulder. Only Hammond remained standing, looking on in stunned silence. Perhaps he thought he was atoning for what he had done.

"I don't believe it," he said over and over, shaking his head. "What happened?"

"The money bag must have been booby-trapped," said Joe. "As soon as they reached a certain height, a detonator set off the bomb. It was meant for you, too," he said to Hammond.

The big redheaded construction boss swallowed hard. "You mean they were going to get rid of us?"

"That's right," Frank said. "You'd served your purpose. They didn't want you around to talk and foul things up. Human life means nothing to them. Not even their own!"

"The scary thing is, Scott probably made that bomb," Joe remarked.

"But we still haven't found him—and we've got to stop the people who have him now," Frank announced. "Any ideas where we should start?"

Cindy spoke up. "I'm pretty certain most of the North Slope people were hired as hatch men. They open the hatches on the pipe and make sure everything is going smoothly."

Joe looked at her. "You didn't say that before."

"I just remembered that that was what I usually typed on their personnel records."

"Then that's it!" Frank said. "They've put bombs in the hatches. Anything else you remember?"

Cindy frowned, trying to force anything else out of her memory. "Most of them started working down south, near Valdez. Lately, they've been working in the north, toward Prudhoe."

Frank nodded. "They probably worked their way right up the pipeline. And now, if they've got to get out of here quickly, they're in range of that submarine up north."

He stood up. "We've got to get to the pipeline and take a look. Virgil, can you fix that chopper?" He pointed to the Assassin's helicopter, with the parachute snagged in its rotors.

"Right away," Virgil said. He leapt up on the top of the enemy bird and began to unravel and cut away the mess. "We could hike down the mountain and use mine," he called out as he worked. "But I think it'd take too much time."

"You're right," Frank said. "We've got to act fast."

Frank, Cindy, and Hammond gathered rocks to pile over the dead Assassin's body. When the temporary grave was completed, Cindy took a moment to mutter a few words in prayer.

Suddenly the chopper engine roared to life. Virgil waved from the pilot's seat. They ran over and climbed aboard, grateful for Virgil's expertise. They rose straight up from the mountaintop, then swooped to the south.

They gained speed and rose up again to get over the Brooks Range. In the early-morning light, the desolate area below seemed totally untouched by humans. But after a brief flight, they were flying over what seemed to be a miles-long brown snake, coiling over the rolling terrain.

It was a service road cut into the virgin landscape. And next to it was the gleaming pipe, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Hammond pointed out the first inspection hatch.

Virgil put the chopper down on the service road. Dust billowed around them as they jumped from the chopper and approached the pipe. Hammond reached out and touched the hatch.

"You need a special tool to unlock these babies," he said. "I didn't think about that."

"Wait a minute," Joe said. "I saw something in the back of the copter." He trotted over and reached behind the passenger seat of the Assassin's copter. Standing up, he held up an unusual-looking wrench.

"Is this what you're talking about?"

"Bingo," Hammond cried, and he began to unlock the hatch. After several minutes, he unscrewed the final bolt. But the hatch didn't budge. "Stuck," Hammond growled.

He attacked it again and, with a huge burst of strength, threw the hatch open. Then he stuck his head inside the hole.

"Don't see a thing," he said, his voice echoing inside the pipe. "Looks fine to me."

"Let me see," Frank said. He joined Hammond at the edge of the opening. Peering into the darkness, Frank could see nothing. The fierce smell of oil made his head swim, and all he heard was the velvety gurgle of the dark stream rushing inside the pipe.

Suddenly a loud click sounded in the dark. It seemed to come from the inner wall. Frank glanced to his right and saw something large and heavy splash into the river of oil. He grabbed for it, but he couldn't reach it.

"Something just fell off the wall of the pipe," he yelled, bringing his head out of the hatch. "It clicked and fell into the oil."

"Grab it," Joe said.

Frank held up a filthy hand. "I tried, but it's gone."

"There shouldn't be anything hanging inside the pipe," Hammond said. "And there's nothing to hang it on."

"A magnet would hold on to the pipe," Joe said.

Frank nodded. "Probably an electromagnet that could be turned off by a radio transmitter. I'll bet they still use them in the military."

His face darkened. "Scott again! They've probably got one of those mines at every hatch."

"And they've just set them all free now," Joe said. "They're floating in the oil. When they get to the right spots, they'll probably go off."

"When they get to the pumping stations!" Hammond said. "We're not just talking about some holes and huge oil spills. They want to rip the guts out of the whole system!"

"Where must we go to stop this?" Virgil asked.

"I'll bet they've set themselves up inside a pumping station," Frank said. "That way they can monitor the flow of oil to make sure the mines have reached the most vulnerable locations."

Hammond spoke up. "I hate to say it. I sold them the construction plans to the main pumping station up in Prudhoe. One of their guys is the plant supervisor." He hung his head.

"That's it!" Frank said. "Let's go!"

The copter thundered through the air toward the pumping station. Hammond was determined to do his part to make up for his mistake.

"I know the place inside and out," he said. "I worked on the crew that built it." He turned to Virgil. "Land on the roof. We can go down the climate-control vents."

Virgil nodded. He brought the chopper over the station and settled it down on the flat asphalt roof. Joe jumped out, and Frank cautiously followed. Hammond started to go, too.

"We'll take care of this," Joe said. "Stay with Virgil and Cindy. We need you on lookout."

"What about Frank's leg?" Virgil yelled down.

"It's about ninety percent, Virgil," Frank yelled back.

Hammond reluctantly agreed to let the boys go alone. "Okay. Just rip off those screens," he said, pointing to the large, chimney like outlets on the roof. "You can slide down the ducts. The different rooms are labeled on the inside. You'll probably want the control room." He gave quick directions.