When Joe pulled the Hardys’ van up next to the Wayne’s World hangar, he had barely turned the key to shut off the engine when April was opening the sliding door and starting to scoot out. Frank hastily unbuckled his seat belt and leaped from the passenger seat to catch her arm and halt her progress.

"Hey, hey – slow down." he cautioned her. "Dad’s going to have a fit when he sees you here as it is; don’t go busting in there like a fire brigade." Now joined by Joe, the teens hurried into the building together.

Fenton was sitting at Jack’s desk, holding the mounted baseball card in his hand. He looked up as Frank, Joe and April appeared in the doorway, and his forehead knotted in an exasperated frown.

"Boys, how could you bring April along? This is too dangerous for her. You should have left her at home, with your mother." He winced as he spoke, and rubbed the back of his head.

"Dad, are you all right?" Both boys moved quickly to examine their father’s injury.

"I’ll live," Mr. Hardy grunted. "but don’t expect me to be good company for a while. Why did you bring April?" he demanded again.

"It’s not their fault, Mr. Hardy." April said bravely, stepping forward. "I hid in the van; they didn’t know I was there until it was too late to go back."

The detective couldn’t quite restrain an amused snort, despite his irritation. "Well, the damage is done now, I suppose." He closed his eyes momentarily, as Frank, who had made a hasty detour into the restroom to soak a towel in cold water, pressed the compress against the bump on the back of his head.

"Dad, I think I know where Jack’s going!" Frank said then. He quickly told Fenton the story Jack had related; April nodded her agreement as Frank spoke.

"I’ve heard Jack tell that story too," she said when Frank paused. "and Toronto Island Airport is definitely the place he landed. He has to have dropped that card there to give us a lead."

Fenton’s mouth twitched. "Give us a lead?" he murmured. "Well, it’s better than nothing at all." He laid his hands on the desk top and pushed himself to his feet. "Frank, can you fly that plane out there? We need to head for Toronto."

Frank nodded. "I can fly it," he assured his father. Then he stopped and looked down at April. "Maybe you could go over to the main airport, and wait there?"

"Not a chance!" she said defiantly. "I’m going with you, and there’s nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind."

Frank glanced at his father, who shrugged and smiled. "Okay," he sighed. "okay…."

The four of them hurried to Jesse Robertson’s green-and-gold plane, pushed it outside the hangar, and climbed aboard; Joe and Fenton in the rear seats, Frank and April in the pilot’s and co-pilot’s chairs. Frank began a speedy check-off of the instrumentation, while April reached for the radio and contacted the tower, requesting permission for immediate takeoff.

A few minutes later, the craft lifted into the air, and Frank couldn’t help a rush of elation as he felt the smooth response of the controls. "This is a nice plane," he said to April, who nodded in agreement. "Lots of oomph." He checked the on-board computer for course settings, and settled back into his seat. "How fast can I push her?"

"Top speed is just under 400 KPH," she replied. "We might get lucky and catch a tailwind."

Fifteen minutes into the flight, Joe slapped himself in the head. "I just thought of something! April, did you have a chance to tell Mom where we were going?"

She turned, dismay evident on her piquant face. "No! The phone rang again, and – oh, no…!"

Joe fished in his pocket and withdrew his cell phone, which he handed to his father. "Dad, give Mom a call before it gets any later – if you call, maybe she’ll only maim us, instead of murdering us!"

After concluding his conversation with his wife, Fenton spoke again from the rear. "I got hold of Julian Fantino, the Toronto police chief, and told him what we thought was happening," he said. "He’s going to contact the Special Investigation Services – that’s the Canadian version of the DEA – and have people at both airports, just in case. I gave him a description of Jack’s plane, April, and found the ID number on some papers; they know what they’re watching for." He reached out and patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Jack will be all right, my dear."

She nodded, but didn’t turn her head or speak. Frank glanced sideways, and saw tears sliding down her cheeks. Hang in there, little girl…we won’t let the nightmare come true if there’s any way we can prevent it!.

*****

This is worse than a nightmare! Jack Wayne admitted silently as the small plane settled into its cruising altitude. He leaned back in his seat, his safety belt fastened snugly across his waist. He hated to admit it, but that seat belt hadn’t always been something he thought about using. Years of flying had made him complacent where certain safety procedures were concerned. But after seeing the wreckage from April’s crash, Jack had vowed never to fly without his seat belt again.

As he piloted the plane, his mind was only partly occupied by the tasks at hand; the rest of his mind was frantically working out a plan to ensure his rescue. He didn’t have a clue what had happened to Fenton and Roger; he could only hope the two men were okay. Apart from that concern, there was nothing he could do for them at that moment, and they certainly weren’t there to help him. It was up to him to save himself.

"How much further ‘til we get there?" Ernie asked suddenly. Jack glanced over at the portly drug dealer. Ernie looked extremely uncomfortable, and was chewing almost frantically on the end of his cigar. Only Jack’s forceful admonishment had prevented Ernie from lighting it earlier.

"About another half hour to an hour. Sit back and enjoy the scenery, why don’t you? You remind me too much of a little kid on a long trip, with the ‘how much further’ questions."

"I hate small planes," Ernie grumbled petulantly. "It’s like you can feel every bump. Give me a good old commercial liner where you can’t even tell you are in the air. That, or better yet, a nice on-the-ground vehicle."

Feel every little bump, huh? In the dim lights glowing from the instrument panel, Jack’s lips twisted into a grin, and he turned his head to the side, to hide his face from Ernie’s view. An idea was slowly forming in his mind. He recalled the conversation with Frank, the other day, when he had revealed the prank he used to play on Joe, when he was trying – unsuccessfully, in Joe’s case – to teach the boys to fly. If he could manage to make Joe sick, could he do the same with Ernie now? Ernie, old boy, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet…. Hang on to your dinners, gentlemen; you are in for the ride of your miserable lives!

"Well, don’t complain to me," Jack retorted aloud. "This wasn’t my idea at all, remember? I’d rather be home in bed right now."

Ernie toyed with his revolver. "We can put you to sleep permanently, if you want."

"Were you intending on flying the plane to Toronto, then? If you shoot me, the plane will crash and you’ll die too. Smart plan, Ernie." Jack muttered. He gently feathered the controls, subtly causing the plane to hiccup along its prescribed path. A smile once more touched his lips at the immediate reaction inside the plane.

Deke, who had not worn his safety belt, tumbled out of his seat. Ernie immediately turned an interesting shade of chartreuse, but managed to stay in his seat. Before either of them could recover, Jack nudged the controls again, causing the plane to bump once more.

"What the…What are you doing, Wayne?" Ernie demanded, gripping the revolver.

Jack laughed shortly. "Me? I’m flying the plane. We’re hitting some turbulence. Sorry about that."

"Can’t you avoid it?" Ernie grumbled.

"Oh sure, I’ll just swerve the next time I see an air pocket coming up." Jack’s tone was sarcastic. "This is a plane, not a car; it’s not like there are visible potholes in the sky that you can avoid. These air pockets are a fact of life at this altitude, especially in the face of an approaching storm front." Jack could see dark, ominous clouds amassing, but they would not be a true irritation to flying for several more hours – but Deke and Ernie didn’t need to know that. "In fact, I’m surprised we aren’t being bounced around more."

"Can’t you fly higher? I’ve heard of pilots flying above storms." Deke asked as he finally resettled himself in his seat, this time fastening his seat restraint.

Jack was inwardly smiling. The two hoods were completely buying what he was saying. "We could, but we aren’t on an approved flight plan. What do you think flight plans are for – telling the airport where we are going?"

"Well, yeah," Deke admitted. "Aren’t they?"

"That’s part of it, sure, but at the same time, it’s a way to ensure that two planes aren’t on a collision course. At this altitude, we don’t have to worry about commercial flights, but if I go higher to avoid the storm, who knows? Do you really want to play ‘chicken’ with a 747?" Jack had to choke back a laugh as both Deke and Ernie paled and shook their heads. Ernie visibly swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple nervously bobbing up and down.

"Just get us there as quick as you can!" he commanded.

"Yes, sir." Jack gave a mock salute before he turned his attention back to the controls. He wished for a moment that it was light outside, so that he could hide the mischievous twinkle he knew had to be in his dark eyes behind his aviator sunglasses. Now that he realized he could get to Ernie by fudging the controls, Jack knew what he had to do. Turbulence, air pockets, wind shear…oh, yes, I think we can manage all of those things.

After the tenth "air pocket" the plane supposedly hit, Jack was certain both Ernie and Deke were ready for a bathroom. In fact, Jack himself felt mildly queasy, and he was accustomed to flying through weather that caused rougher turbulence than he was causing. He figured with him, it had more to do with the laughter he was bottling up inside. Despite the danger he was in, Jack Wayne was having a blast!

"If I’m going to land, I’ll have to radio the tower. Unless you’d rather I just circled the airfield for awhile." he said calmly, now.

Ernie all but covered his mouth to keep from vomiting. His hand wasn’t even on the revolver any more. He motioned for Jack to continue. "Go ahead, but no tricks."

Jack smiled and keyed his radio. "November Papa Charlie 218 to Toronto Island Tower. Requesting permission to land on a heading of 349 716."

Jack glanced over at Ernie. "Negative, Tower, just a bit of turbulence. Am I cleared for landing?"

Jack lowered his landing gear as he planned his escape. He had a feeling both his passengers would be looking for the bathroom as soon as they were on the ground. The last thing that would be on their minds at that time would be him fighting back. He just had to bide his time until he landed.

Sure enough, as soon as the wheels gave a little bounce indicating the plane was on the ground, Ernie was out of his seat. Deke, apparently remembering his tumble earlier, remained seated and belted in until the plane finished taxiing down the runway.

"Welcome to Canada, gentlemen." Jack quipped sardonically. "Let me get the door and you can feel free to kiss the ground."

Ernie ignored the joke and waited impatiently for Jack to open the door. The three men exited the plane and the two drug dealers immediately began looking for the nearest building that might house a restroom. Jack was swift to take advantage of the situation; he grabbed Ernie’s briefcase and swung it directly in Deke’s face. The tall man dropped to his knees with an inarticulate howl, holding his bleeding nose. Jack, not reacting to his victory, quickly kicked out at Ernie, and knocked the gun out of his hand.

Dimly, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching, but he ignored them, and concentrated on making sure Ernie and Deke wouldn’t get away. He sent a right upper cross into Ernie’s jaw, and the little man staggered back, but before Jack could follow up his advantage, they were converged upon by uniformed police officers.

"Freeze!" the lead officer snapped out, but Jack assumed they were talking to the two drug dealers. He took a step toward the officers.

"No need to worry, guys, I took care of…" Jack didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, as he was suddenly tackled by one of the policemen, and thrown violently to the tarmac. His head bounced sharply off the concrete as he landed, and the world spun. He tried to push himself free so that he could explain that he wasn’t the bad guy in all this, but the move was apparently considered a threatening one. The officer who had taken him down suddenly presented a canister of pepper spray, and sprayed it directly into Jack’s face.

His eyes burning and his head spinning from hitting the concrete, Jack groaned. He could feel consciousness slowly slipping away from him. As his vision dimmed and darkness enveloped him, he heard a sharp male voice admonishing someone: "Harshaw, you fool, you just knocked out the hijack victim we were asked to rescue."

*****

"November Echo Charlie 973 to Toronto Island Tower requesting permission to land on approach 349 716." Frank’s calm voice belied the nervousness he’d felt the entire flight from Bayport to Toronto. Would they land and find Jack okay, and Deke and Ernie in custody? Or had the two drug dealers escaped somehow, wounding or even killing Jack in the process?

"Copy that, Tower." Frank looked back at his dad, then to Joe – and finally to April, who was sitting bolt upright in her seat, every muscle taut. Nobody voiced his or her concerns at that point. It was useless, and the Hardys all realized April was a basket case already. Frank returned his sole attention back to landing the plane safely.

As soon as the plane was fully on the ground and Frank had taxied close to the buildings, he turned off the engines, and leaped out. He hurried around the plane and opened the door on the other side, motioning for April to exit. She slid onto the ground, closely followed by Fenton; Joe had gotten out Frank’s side. They expected her to dash headlong for the building, but suddenly the teenage girl hesitated. She stood immobile for a long time, her body shaking slightly. Then she turned to the three men accompanying her.

"What if it’s bad news? I know I was the one who insisted that I come – but now I’m scared! What do I do if Jack’s hurt – or worse?"

Joe squeezed her good arm reassuringly. "Jack will be fine, April. You’ll see. Come on, let’s go find him." He put his arm about her and urged her forward.

Joe kept his arm around her as Fenton led the way to the administration building where the police chief was waiting for them. A uniformed officer smiled at them as they entered, and escorted them to an office cubicle. April hesitated in following Joe in, as she saw that Jack was not present in the room.

"Fenton, it’s good to see you again." A tall distinguished-looking man with piercing blue eyes and dark hair silvered at the temples extended his hand to Mr. Hardy. "And these must be your sons?"

"Yes, Julian, this is my eldest, Frank, and this is Joe. Boys, may I present Chief Fantino." Both Frank and Joe shook hands with the chief. "And this young lady is April Wayne." Fenton added. The police chief took her hand and bowed slightly.

"It’s nice to meet both of you, and you, Miss Wayne. You’ll all be happy to hear that the hijackers are in custody, and we have the drugs they were carrying."

"Where’s Jack? Where’s my brother?" April’s voice was barely more than a muted quiver.

Fantino looked sheepish. "I’m afraid there was a slight complication when we made the arrest. One of my officers thought Mr. Wayne might be one of the hijackers. He got a little – er – overzealous. Your brother is currently being examined by a doctor."

April let out a strangled cry and twisted into Joe’s reassuring embrace. "I knew it! I just knew something was going to happen to Jack! What am I going to do if I lose him, just like I lost Mom and Dad?" She bowed her head against Joe’s chest and cried heartbrokenly.