A voice spoke from the doorway; hoarse and rasping, but still recognizable:

"Someone’s going to have to try harder than that, for you to lose me, sis!"

April caught her breath with a gasp and whirled about, still holding onto Joe. "Jack! Oh Jack—" She stumbled across the room and flung herself against him, laughing and crying at the same time. "You’re all right – I thought you were – thought you’d been—" She buried her face against his jacket as he hugged her to him. "I’m sorry," her muffled voice continued. "I’m sorry I didn’t trust you; I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain; I’m sorry, I’m sorry—"

"I’m okay, April, shhh, it’s all right." he soothed, patting her back. Then, with mock sternness: "But just what do you think you’re doing here? You’re supposed to be back in Bayport!" He grasped her shoulders and held her away from him. "Why are you here?"

"I had to come," she said, her hazel eyes meeting his dark brown ones unflinchingly. "I couldn’t risk something happening to you and me not being there. I lost Mom and Dad; I wasn’t going to lose you, too." She hid her face in his coat again.

"Oh, April…." Unable to find words to scold her further, Jack hugged her again. "You little nut…." Over her head he sought out Frank and Joe. If he couldn’t scold April, the Hardy boys would do as a substitute. "So this is how you protect my little sister, bringing her with you to track down armed drug dealers?" he accused.

Before either of the boys could answer, April popped her head up. "They didn’t have a choice, Jack; I hid in the back of their van; they didn’t know I was there until it was too late – I made them bring me along."

Jack sighed. "Why do I not doubt that at all?" He winced, and rubbed the side of his head ruefully. Frank noted that the pilot’s eyes looked red and watery, and wondered whether emotion or something else was affecting him. What did the ‘overzealous’ officer do to him, anyway?

"You’re hurt," April’s fingers reached for the same spot, touching it gently. "You should lie down."

"No, I don’t need to lie down." her brother denied. "I’ve been lying down." He didn’t mention to his worried little sister that the way he had been lying down was on the ground, out cold.

"If you’re feeling up to it, Jack, I think we should have a little conversation with your passengers," Mr. Hardy commented. "I want to know exactly how they knew you were setting up another sting – and which one of them hit me!" he added, his hand going to the back of his skull.

"Is that permissible, sir?" Jack glanced at the police chief.

"Certainly," Chief Fantino nodded. "They’re under guard in an office down the hall." He indicated the direction with a wave of his hand. "Just come with me, Fenton, Mr. Wayne."

April released her brother’s arm reluctantly, and let him follow the other two men. "He looks terrible – poor Jack," she whispered to no one in particular.

Under the watchful gaze of a uniformed officer, Deke and Ernie sat slumped in chairs, sullen anger written in every line of their faces. Ernie was chewing on another unlit cigar. When Jack, Mr. Hardy and Chief Fantino entered the room, they were greeted with scowls by the two drug dealers.

"I have a few questions to ask," Fenton said mildly, folding his arms and surveying the prisoners.

"Why should we tell you anything?" Deke snarled. "We don’t owe you anything!"

Fenton shrugged and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Even a little cooperation with authorities looks good on a rap sheet. And these are just general information questions."

"What do you want to know?" Ernie asked doubtfully.

"First, I’d like to know how you knew there was a sting going down tonight?" the detective inquired.

"We got a phone call," the little man replied, after a moment’s pause. "An anonymous tip. And whoever it was said we should make plans for transportation out of Bayport tonight – immediate transportation. That’s when we thought of Jack, here." He bared his teeth at the pilot in the semblance of a smile.

Jack scowled. "That makes no sense!" he expostulated. "No one knew about it—"

"There was a chance for a leak of information," Fenton reminded him. "Over in Westport."

Jack shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.

"Second, which one of you got the drop on me and Roger Taylor, and how did you manage to get in without us seeing you?" Mr. Hardy went on.

Both men looked confused. "We didn’t do anything to you," Deke answered. "We just walked in the door and went to Wayne’s office. You weren’t there – you or anyone else."

"Now look, I’d like a straight answer!" Fenton snapped, annoyed. "I’m sporting a lump the size of a golf ball on the back of my head, and I want to know who to blame for it!"

"Mr. Hardy, neither one of us hit you!" Ernie insisted. "We never saw you at all, just like Deke said."

Despite repeated questioning, the two prisoners stuck to their story: they had received an anonymous tip on the sting, and neither one of them had knocked out Fenton or Roger. At last, Mr. Hardy indicated that he had nothing more to say to them, and Deke and Ernie were escorted from the room, heading for a boat that would take them to the mainland, and a prison cell. Chief Fantino remained behind for a moment.

"Fenton, I’ll book you and Mr. Wayne rooms at a motel near the police station." he offered. "Neither one of you looks to be in any shape to go back to Bayport tonight anyway, and I’ll need statements from you both, in the morning."

"Thank you, Julian." Mr. Hardy said wearily. "Let me check with my sons first, though, and find out whether we need more rooms for them – and Jack’s sister."

As Jack and Fenton returned to the room where the boys and April waited, the detective scowled in deep thought.

"We still have that unknown "X" factor, Jack," he said. "Someone who tipped off Deke and Ernie – who knocked out Roger and myself – who probably switched the original bricks of cocaine. Someone at DEA headquarters, perhaps, who knew about the sting operation? Someone else flying cargo? Your young assistant Jason?"

"Jason wasn’t around when Jesse was killed." Jack stated. "He just started working for me a couple of months ago."

"That doesn’t mean he couldn’t be somehow involved."

April, Frank and Joe were waiting, not too patiently, where they had been left. When Jack and Fenton entered the room, all three teens looked up expectantly.

"Well?" Frank demanded.

"They say they received an anonymous phone tip about the sting, and they categorically deny hitting Roger or me." his father responded. "So there are still some unanswered questions. An unidentified person – or more than one."

"That person just may decide to skip town," Joe said, worried. "Frank and I should probably fly back to Bayport right now, and see if we can find out anything more."

"I hate to have you fly back there yet tonight, Frank." Fenton said dubiously. "But I admit, we need to move somewhat quickly. Jack and I have to stay here, so we can give our statements to the police tomorrow – well, later today." he amended. "I wish you boys could stay overnight here too."

"It’s okay, Dad; I’m not all that tired." Frank assured him. "And we realize that time is important."

"Jack, I should stay here with you, shouldn’t I?" April inquired. "You’re injured, after all—"

"No way, little girl; if Frank and Joe are flying back to Bayport tonight, you’re going with them!" Jack stated emphatically. "I’ll be fine. Don’t hover over me like that; all I need is some aspirin and some rest. Fenton and I are going to get a room and I’m going to sleep off this headache."

April acquiesced, worried but unwilling to argue with her big brother at that point. "Which plane should we take?" she inquired. "Yours, or the one we came in?"

"Go ahead and take mine back." Jack replied, after a moment’s thought. "Fenton and I’ll bring Jesse’s back tomorrow. Frank, there’s coffee in a thermal mug in the pilot’s seat pocket, if you want some. I brought it from Bayport, but never drank any of it." He grinned teasingly. "So no germs to worry about."

"Thanks, Jack. I’ll find it."

"You’re sure you’re all right to fly, son?" Mr. Hardy asked yet again. "There’s a storm brewing, remember."

"It’s all good, Dad." his elder son reassured him. "Don’t worry about anything. You just take care of yourself." Frank and Joe hugged their father, and shook hands with Jack; April clung to her older brother for a moment as if she never wanted to let go, but finally released him.

"See you tomorrow, sis!" Jack kissed the top of her head. "Make sure Frank does everything right, on the flight back, okay?"

She nodded. "I will," she promised him seriously. "See you, Jack."

Despite the rain and occasional gusts of wind, Frank got the plane off the ground without difficulty, and headed for Bayport. April, in the co-pilot’s seat, was watchful at first, but as the minutes ticked by, she relaxed, assured that Frank was entirely capable of handling the little craft through the turbulence. Tense in one of the rear seats, Joe braced himself against the bounces and tilts of the plane, and wished they’d opted for taking a commercial flight back to Bayport. Eventually, Frank got them above the storm, and the ride smoothed out. Joe relaxed and closed his eyes, sliding steadily toward sleep.

"April, can you hold it steady for a minute? I want to grab some coffee." Frank reached for the silver-and-black thermos in the pocket of his seat, that Jack had told him would be there. He unscrewed the top and poured a cup of the steaming brew. "Do you want any?"

April shook her head, keeping her eyes on the instruments as she carefully guided the plane with her left hand. "No thanks; I only like it with cream and sugar. Jack says the stuff they brew in the pilot’s lounge at most airports tastes like recycled motor oil, but I don’t think his is all that much better!"

"Joe? Want some coffee?" Frank offered.

"Uh-uh," his brother mumbled. "I want to sleep."

"Okay." Frank shrugged and sipped, then drank half the cup down. "Wow, Jack likes it strong, doesn’t he?" He gulped the rest, shuddering a little at the brew’s bite.

"Told you." April responded. She glanced over at Frank, making sure he had the controls in hand before she released her set. "You ready to fly again?"

"Uh-huh."

There was companionable silence for a time, with the steady sound of the engines providing a background. Joe felt himself drifting off to sleep. So tired…feels like about a week since I had a good night’s rest…. His dreamy thoughts were rudely interrupted by April’s outcry, as the plane took an abrupt nose-dive, and he felt his stomach lurch as the plane dropped.

"Frank! Watch what you’re doing!"

"What’s wrong, April? Didn’t you think it was fun?" Frank laughed. Joe looked at him in consternation; somehow Frank’s laugh sounded…odd.

"Fun! Are you crazy?" April was tugging on her yoke, pulling the plane level once more.

"It was fun!" Frank insisted. "And I want to do it again!" He shoved the yoke forward, pushing against April’s resistance with her own set of controls. The little plane bucked and lurched in the storm winds, and Joe clung to his seat, feeling decidedly queasy.

"Frank, stop it!" April screamed, and abruptly he obeyed.

"Okay, okay – spoilsport," he muttered. The elder Hardy boy sighed and settled back into his seat, apparently concentrating on his tasks once again. April eyed him suspiciously, but loosened her tight grasp on her yoke.

Joe watched his brother intently, all thoughts of sleep gone. Frank never takes chances like that! he thought. After a few minutes, he noticed Frank shake his head, blinking his eyes.

"You okay, Frank?" he asked apprehensively.

"Things are – sort of going – out of focus…"

"Maybe you’d better let April fly for awhile, pal."

"No, no…I’m okay." Frank riveted his attention to the instrument panel. "It was just for a minute, there…."

Minutes passed; Joe and April were both watching Frank closely now. He seemed to be all right, and Joe was just beginning to relax when the plane abruptly slanted downward once again. Joe braced himself against the descent, feeling his stomach do flips.

"Frank!" April shouted. "Stop it!" She yanked on the controls once more, to level the plane.

"Huh? Wha— I’m sorry, Ap-april." Frank’s usually clear tones sounded slurred. "I di’n’t do it – on purpose…."

"Frank, what’s wrong with you?" April demanded, tension filling her voice.

"I – don’t feel – so good," he mumbled.

Joe sat forward in his seat, alarmed. "How don’t you feel good?" he asked.

"Dizzy…" Frank shook his head, trying to clear the fog. "Can’t see – the instrument – panel…." Alternating sparkles of light and dark spots floated in front of Frank’s eyes. He rubbed them, and squeezed them tightly shut for a moment, then tried again to focus. "Dizzy…" he repeated.

"Oh my God—" Joe unfastened his seat belt and lunged between the seats. "April, can you take the controls for a minute?"

"Yes, I have them," she replied steadily. Gripping the yoke tightly with her left hand, she managed to brace it with the fingertips of her right hand, and she felt for the rudder pedals with her feet, although twinges of pain in her right leg made her wince. "But you need to get Frank out of that seat and away from the controls. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s a danger to us right now."

"Frank—" Joe grasped his older brother’s shoulder. "Frank, talk to me, buddy!"

"Joe…." Frank’s head sagged forward to his chest; with great effort he forced it up again. "Feel – so weird. Can’t – stay awake…."

"Change seats with me!" Joe snapped. "Come on, bro, get in back."

"No – no, you can’t – fly….Gotta – fly…plane.…April can’t…."

"You can’t!" Joe clutched at the seat back as the plane was buffeted by wind. "Come on, Frank, get in the back!" He unsnapped Frank’s seat belt and tried to tug him to his feet. Frank fought him weakly, attempting to shove him away, but Joe deflected the feeble resistance, and half-lifted, half-shoved his brother toward the rear seat. Just as Joe was easing him down, Frank’s knees buckled, and he went limp in Joe’s arms.

"Frank!" Joe shook him hard, but to no avail. The elder boy slumped in his seat; sagged sideways. Joe clamped his fingers on Frank’s wrist, checking for the heartbeat.

"Is he—" April’s voice shook. "Joe, he’s not—"

"Pulse is fine; he’s breathing okay." Joe assured her. "But he’s out cold." He positioned Frank in his seat and fastened the safety belt about his unconscious brother; then he made his way forward to the pilot’s seat once again, and sat down.

"What happened to him?" April demanded fearfully.

"Offhand, I’d say there was something in that coffee he drank." Joe opened the thermos and sniffed the contents, then shook his head. "I don’t smell anything, and I’m sure as heck not going to taste it!" He carefully re-capped the container. "Are you okay to get us back to Bayport, April?" he asked, watching her competent handling of the little plane.

"Yes and no," she replied. "I’m fine as long as we’re up here in clear air, and I’m just keeping the plane aloft. But when it comes to landing, I can’t do it, with just one hand. That’s where you come in."

"Me!" Joe cried. "Hey, I’m the one who doesn’t have the pilot’s license, remember? I can’t land this thing; landings are what did me in before!" He felt a rush of panic. She can’t mean it! Me, land this plane? No way! I’ll crash it and kill all three of us!

"Joe, it will be fine," April said calmly. "You’ve flown before; you’re not exactly a novice, even if you don’t have your pilot’s license. And I’ll talk you through every step of it; it’ll be okay."

Joe gulped. He suddenly remembered another reason he didn’t take to flying, as his stomach began churning with nerves. Hardy, you are not going to get airsick now, he reminded himself sternly. It didn’t help much. "April, I don’t think I can—" he reiterated.

"Joe, you have to." she replied. "There isn’t any other option."

Joe stared at the instrument panel, trying to familiarize himself with the controls and dials. I knew all these things once; come on, Joe, remember this stuff! Slowly, as the little plane flew steadily onward under April’s guidance, the younger Hardy began to relax and recall the things that Jack had taught him.

"Take it for a minute, Joe, while I try to radio Bayport," the girl instructed him then, and Joe took the yoke in trembling hands.

"Just keep it level; nothing fancy," April murmured. She released her own controls and reached for the radio switch. "November Papa Charlie 218, calling Bayport Tower; come in please…Bayport, come in please." Static fuzzed through the speakers for a few moments; although a few words were intelligible, most of it was too garbled to decipher. "Bayport, come in please." April tried again, but finally shook her head and replaced the mike in its holder. "I think they can hear me, but I can’t get a thing in response." she sighed. "Maybe when we’re a little closer."

April and Joe alternated flying the plane for a period of time, with Joe handling the controls for longer and longer stretches. He was beginning to feel more comfortable now; and April’s comments were encouraging and approving. She’s going to be as good a flight instructor as her brother one of these days! Joe thought to himself. Lulled into relaxation, he was caught unprepared when a sudden gust of wind shook the craft and tilted it sideways.

"Whoops!" April grabbed hastily at her yoke and tried to stabilize the plane; Joe did the same with his own set of controls. "The storm is getting worse!" she gasped. "It’s going to be harder to keep the plane level, Joe, so concentrate, okay? I only hope we don’t run into—" A bright flash interrupted her words, and Joe flinched at the sudden BOOM of thunder and crackle of electricity. "—lightning." April finished.

"Why?" Joe demanded fearfully.

"Because the electricity in the air plays hell with the onboard computer." she said tersely. "The computer had the code for the Bayport airport – but if the lightning messes with it, there’s no telling where we could end up."

"What?" Joe nearly shrieked.

"Joe, it’s okay; I can navigate manually, but I can’t do that and fly too, not with only one hand."

Joe jumped again as another clap of thunder resounded, followed almost immediately by the snap-crack of a lightning flash. "That was awfully close!" he gasped. He felt as if his stomach was being tied into knots.

"It’s okay, Joe; it’s all right, just concentrate on keeping the plane level…." April kept her voice calm and soothing. "Watch the instruments and keep the nose up."

Joe fought the controls, using all his strength and every bit of concentration he possessed. His grasp on the yoke was so tight his knuckles were white, and his hands began to ache, but he didn’t dare loosen his grip. "How far – from Bayport?" he shouted over another grumbling roll of thunder.

April was scanning dials and comparing them to navigation charts. "Maybe another half-hour – or a little more." she answered loudly. "Joe, change course just a little." She indicated the new course setting, and Joe grimly followed her directions. "That’s better – can you get it above the storm at all?"

"I’m trying—" Joe pulled back on the yoke, making a desperate attempt to guide them higher. "Doesn’t want to lift!" Another crack-flash, and the plane shuddered and tilted again. Joe felt bile rise in his throat. "I think I’m gonna be sick!" he gasped.

"Not now!" April yelled. "You can barf as much as you want, after we land, but right now you don’t have time!" Joe gulped and clenched his teeth, forcing his rebelling stomach to behave, and grimly clung to the yoke, doing his best to stabilize them again.

Frank, you picked a fine time to pass out! Joe cringed as lightning speared down almost directly in front of the plane’s nose. He glanced at the instrument panel, and was appalled to see the indicators going crazy, affected by the storm. I’m flying blind…. "April, I can’t do this! I’ll crash us for sure!"

The young girl stared out the window, fear coursing through her as the lightning played abut the plane. I was so afraid of something happening to Jack…afraid of being left alone, she thought. I never thought about this, though…what if, instead of Jack leaving me alone – it’s me who leaves him?