Trouble in the Pipeline (12 page)

"Thanks," Frank called. "Now get out of here, fast!" Hammond jumped back in the copter, and Virgil took off.

The Hardys wasted no time. Joe ripped the screen off one duct and climbed in, followed by Frank, who could only crawl on one knee. The other leg he dragged behind him. It was dark inside, but when they came to a vent, light shone in from the space below. They could hear the constant drone of the pumping machinery deep inside the building.

Sometimes, as they crawled along, muffled voices drifted up from the various rooms they passed. Frank and Joe were careful to make no noise as they crept through the darkness.

Following Hammond's directions, they dropped down several levels and crawled over the center of the building. Finally they reached a vent marked "Cntrl. Rm."

The floor was a long way down when they peered through the vent. They were in a high-ceilinged room containing a control booth filled with computer equipment. Two men stood in front of a large panel of controls.

Joe tapped Frank on the shoulder, then pointed. There was another vent in the room, directly over the booth. They crawled until they could lean over the small grid that covered the opening.

They listened to the voices below.

"So, my friend, it's just a matter of minutes before the project is completed." It was the voice of Sandy White. Frank pressed his face against the grid, trying to see who the other person was.

"It's Scott," he whispered to Joe. "It's Scott and Sandy White!"

They listened again.

"Once I push this button, we'll be on our way to the sub. The crew here is on coffee break, so they'll never know what happened. By the time the whole thing blows, we'll be over the Arctic Ocean." White glanced at his watch.

Frank and Joe gave each other the high sign. This was it. They had to make their move.

Joe went first. Quietly, he lifted the grid off the vent and placed it to the side. It seemed to take him forever, but he was able to do it without making any noise. Then, drawing himself up in the cramped space of the duct, he leapt headfirst through the hole.

He flew into White, knocking him back from the control panel. Both of them went sprawling across the floor. As they fell, Joe yelled out, "Scott, we're friends of Doug!" But that's all he had time to say.

White was immediately up on his knees, jamming an elbow into Joe's solar plexus. Joe groaned and doubled over, trying to catch his breath. But every time he inhaled, his lungs refused to expand. Scott had ducked into the corner, unable to decide what to do.

Frank came down, feet first, like a cannonball, but White was ready, lashing out with a kick as Frank landed. But Frank threw his arm out and knocked the foot off course. Then, lunging, he grabbed it, twisting the leg and trying to throw White to the ground.

White twisted his body in midair, bracing himself with the foot Frank held captive and kicking Frank in the face with the other.

Frank's head snapped back, and he fell, losing his hold.

White fell to the floor but sprang up immediately and ran for the control panel—or rather, for the little radio transmitter with the big red button that lay there. Joe tackled him and brought him down. But he couldn't pin the man. White wriggled out of Joe's grip, leapt to his feet, and raised, his foot to stomp Joe on the neck.

Joe rolled out of the line of fire, and White's foot only scraped the side of his head. His ear felt as if it had been ripped off. White again went for the detonator, but this time Scott stepped in. He snatched it away from White and threw the transistor pack to Frank.

White went after Frank but then stopped.

"Okay, enough," he said, taking a similar pack out of his pocket. "Your friend here is wired with enough plastic explosive to wreck this room. He's a human bomb! And this is the detonator!" He held the small transistor box in his right hand. "Now give me the switch to the mines, or I'll kill all of us right now."

Frank looked at Scott. He could see the unmistakable lump taped to his stomach.

"That's right," White said. "Just like the persuader I used on you. Now give me the switch before I use this one!"

Frank stared into the madness behind White's eyes.

"Give it to me!" White screamed. The veins in his neck bulged. His face was red with rage.

Frank had to gamble. He knew the Assassins were capable of suicide, but he doubted whether a big cheese like White would be expected to make that sacrifice.

"If you flip that switch, you'll just die, and the pipeline will be back in operation in a month." Frank popped open the little electronic box in his hand and ripped out the wires. "It's over, White. Give up!"

When White saw the control box destroyed, he looked like a robot who'd been short-circuited. But his moves were still fast. He grabbed Scott and backed out the door of the control booth, holding up the detonator.

"Stay where you are," he spat. "I can still take your friend with me—and maybe do a little more damage."

JOE LUNGED FOR the door, but his brother grabbed him.

"Let them go," Frank whispered roughly.

"Are you out of your mind?" Joe yelled. "He's about to escape. He may even kill Scott just for kicks."

Frank continued to hold his brother back. "He's less likely to do that if he thinks he's won. Let's give him a chance to escape."

They ran to the door and watched as White dragged Scott across the floor of the station.

"See?" Frank told Joe. "We've left his plan in ruins. The mines are useless now, without this." He held up the detonator, its wires and microchips hanging out like an electrician's nightmare.

"And we know another thing. White isn't about to risk his own life. He proved that in here just now." Frank stared out as the terrorist dragged his captive into the maze of pumping machinery.

"Yeah, but we're going to lose sight of him, Frank! If he can stash Scott somewhere and get out of the building, he could still trigger the bomb, kill Scott, and do some serious damage." Joe pounded the wall in frustration. Then he stopped. A blueprint of the entire station was thumbtacked right where his fist had landed.

"Check this out!" Joe said.

"Quick," Frank said, when he saw what it was. "Where are the exits?"

"Looks like there're only three, aside from the main one," Joe stated.

"Remember where they are. Now let's go. We've given him enough time."

They broke through the door and practically fell down the flight of stairs that led from the control booth to the floor of the pumping station.

"He went this way!" Joe called as he sprinted across the cement floor toward a jungle of pipes and machinery.

Frank followed behind as fast as he could, casting a worried look at the incredibly complicated mass of hardware, with its hundreds of hiding places.

"Maybe I took a chance letting him go. But I didn't want to push him too far," Frank said as they pushed into the steel jungle.

Joe was in the lead, but he skidded to a stop when the floor ended. Looking over the edge, they could see two or three stories down. The entire space was filled with pipes, painted green, red, and orange.

Frank stared down in shock. "That's a bit more hiding space than I counted on."

The network of pipes filling the vast, dark space looked like the inside of a giant mechanical stomach. Miles and miles of bent, wandering tubes were all humming and gurgling with life.

But Joe wasn't interested in the looks of the place. His eyes were straining for any sign of motion. "There they are!" His arm stabbed down into the dimness.

"I see them." Following Joe's arm, Frank instantly caught sight of White and Scott. They looked like miniature figures climbing through a maze of giant tree trunks.

Joe leapt out onto the first pipe and began to swing to the next one like a monkey. Frank followed, using his arms the whole way.

"He's taking him down to one of the big compressors," Joe said, leaping from one pipe to the next.

Frank glanced down and saw them struggling through the endless labyrinth of twisting metal. Scott seemed to have a rope connecting him to White.

Joe sprang recklessly from pipe to pipe, landing on the narrow surface of one, then crouching down and lowering himself to the one below. It's a lucky thing we have sneakers, he thought.

When he landed on a pipe without a handhold available he had to keep his balance and not think about what a fall would mean. The image of being knocked from pipe to pipe until he reached the distant floor wouldn't help keep him steady.

Frank followed more slowly, going hand over hand, keeping his cool in a deadly situation.

"Do you see them?" he asked.

Dropping onto a pipe, Joe peered down. "He's reached the compressor, and he's tying Scott to a pipe." He glanced up at Frank. "I'm going after White. You go for Scott—get the bomb off him."

Joe took chances, dropping farther, straining to catch pipes. Once he bounced off a tube he'd aimed for and nearly went tumbling down through the maze. But he managed to grab on to another pipe and hang there for a moment, catching his breath. Looking down, he realized he'd nearly reached the compressor.

Below him, White was scrambling around on a large pipe, lashing Scott down. Scott fought against the ropes, but he was obviously scared about setting off the bomb on his stomach.

White tied the final knot around Scott's neck and looked up. Seeing Joe coming fast, he leapt off the big pipe like a spider monkey. Catching a thin pipe several yards away, he swung himself down into the darkness like Tarzan and silently disappeared.

Joe covered the last of the distance to Scott's pipe with a series of hair-raising jumps. He landed on all fours about a yard away from where Scott was tied.

"Scott, my brother's coming to help you out. I'm going after that maniac," he yelled. "Frank's coming."

Scott nodded, but Joe could see the panic in his eyes. The poor guy must be half out of his mind by now, Joe thought. He's been a captive for almost a month, building bombs for terrorists—and now he's a human bomb.

Joe continued his wild descent. Sandy White was still ahead of him, dashing through the tangle of pipes at the bottom of the station. He'd reached the floor but still had to climb over some broad feeder pipes as he headed for a side door.

Joe realized that White had made a mistake by going straight down. He still had to struggle across the floor. And that gave Joe a chance to catch up. He began angling his way down through the overgrown monkey bars, cutting a course to just above the doorway.

He glanced back. Frank had reached Scott and was struggling to untie him, balancing on the pipe and tugging at the knots at the same time.

Now it was up to Joe to win the race to the door. Joe remembered from the blueprint how this door led to a flight of stairs up to ground level and an exit to the pumping station. The area outside the station was open space.

Joe figured White would want to run a good way before finally detonating the bomb. He wouldn't know how far the exploding compressor would throw debris and would want to be a good distance from the building. Joe bore down, leaping and swinging through the pipes, almost in a trance now, knowing that his brother and Scott were depending on him.

White reached the door just seconds before Joe was in position to drop on him. The terrorist rammed into the exit with his shoulder, setting off an alarm.

Neither of them paid any attention to the shrill, bone-jarring siren. Joe swung down by the doorway and pushed through. He knew White was probably running up the stairs to the exit.

Clawing his way up the steps, Joe could feel his lungs burning with desperate fatigue. Now there was another door ahead of him. He rammed through to find a wide, empty space outside the building.

There was White, sprinting toward a helicopter with the North Slope logo. His escape vehicle had parked far out from the building. Its engine was already running, and a side door was open. White glanced over his shoulder, saw Joe, and forced his pace a bit faster. Joe didn't know if he could catch him. He only knew he had to.

From above came the clattering sound of another chopper. Joe looked up. It was Virgil. Spike Hammond stood in the open bay with the MAC-10 in his hands.

The North Slope pilot saw them, too. He turned up the throttle and lifted a few inches off the ground. Obviously he expected Sandy White to dive into the chopper headfirst, and then he'd take off.

Joe heard a shot. The engine of the North Slope chopper screamed to a halt. The blades whirred around helplessly, and the nose of the copter smashed into the ground. Hammond had hit a bull's-eye.

White stumbled to a halt. Joe could see his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The men in the damaged chopper bailed out of the open door and made a run for it. White watched his comrades scatter. He looked up to see Virgil's copter hovering. He faced Joe, who was sprinting toward him.

A thought flicked across Joe's mind as he sprinted toward White, This is where an Assassin is the most dangerous, when he's got nothing to lose and nowhere to go.

For a second Joe couldn't figure out why White was just standing there. Then he watched as the terrorist's hand flashed into his pocket. It came out with the detonator.

Joe put his head down and charged like a bull. But he knew he was too far away to stop him. White pressed the switch. Joe expected to hear a terrifying, expanding boom, the blast that would take out the compressor, Scott—and Frank Hardy.

Instead—there was nothing.

White stared, pushing the switch again and again. Still nothing.

A surge of joy erupted through Joe. He bore down on White like a freight train. Frank had done his job now it was Joe's turn. He was going to take this Assassin alive!

White threw the detonator switch away and bit down on something in his mouth—hard.

He's got a hollow tooth—and a suicide pill! thought Joe as he forced a little more speed out of his aching legs.

But White didn't go into convulsions in front of Joe. Apparently he was having trouble with the cap on his tooth. He was yanking on it with his fingers as he backed away from Joe.