The two men stepped forward, holding guns which were trained unerringly upon the boys. Both wore rugged outdoor gear, and menacing expressions.

"What’re you kids doing here?" snapped one of the men. As he stepped nearer, Frank and Joe could see he was somewhat short, with receding dark hair and an evident paunch. He held an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth

"Hiking." Frank replied coolly. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Damn right we do." the other man growled. "What are you doing around this crash site?" The speaker was taller than his companion; he had broad shoulders and thick, sandy hair, and he looked as if he spent most of his spare time working out.

"We’re hiking," Joe piped up.

Hearing his brother’s voice, Frank fought to conceal a smile. Joe’s in his "innocent" mode…well, let’s play it that way, then….

"We’ve been camping for the past couple of days – over that way—" Joe gestured widely in no specific direction. "—and this afternoon we thought we saw a plane come down here. We hiked over to see." He gave them his most charming, innocent smile. "What’s wrong with that? Say, do you suppose you could put that – " gesturing toward the gun, "—away? You’re making me kinda nervous."

"Did you see anyone here?" the shorter man demanded sharply, still not lowering the handgun.

"No…no one." Frank poured sincerity into his soft baritone. People usually believed Frank – even when he was lying. "There wasn’t anyone around. Why? Who are you guys?"

"We’re from the FAA," the big man responded. He slid his gun into his coat pocket and nudged his companion to do the same. "Sorry, kids, we didn’t mean to frighten you. We were sent to the crash site to secure it. The pilot asked that we come here – he was worried about the cargo on board being left out here unattended – it’s valuable stuff, you understand."

Oh, I understand all too well, Frank thought. So "he" – the pilot – asked you to come secure the valuable cargo, hmm? He felt Joe stiffen against his back as the man’s words struck home. I hope "he" wasn’t Jack! Aloud, Frank said: "Yeah, sure, we understand. But things looked pretty broken up, in the plane."

"You went into the plane?" The shorter man was reaching into his pocket again, and there was threatening menace in his tone.

"We looked inside, sure." Joe made his voice quiver slightly. "We didn’t know it was wrong to do that, Mister."

"Ernie, quit scaring these kids. They aren’t doing anything wrong; you heard ‘em, they just were curious." The big guy made a shooing gesture with his hand. "Go on, fellas, it’s okay. We’re just going to check over the crash site and fill out our reports."

"Thanks, we’ll be on our way then." Frank nudged Joe slightly, and they moved down the trail, glancing back once or twice as they departed, trying to look as innocently curious as possible.

Once they were far enough away to be out of earshot, Frank seized Joe’s elbow and pulled him to a halt. "What was that all about?" he murmured.

Joe shook his head. "FAA my a—um, they weren’t from the FAA." He snorted eloquently. "FAA wouldn’t have gotten someone there that fast – hey, how did they get there, anyway?. Did they just spring up from under a rock?" He resumed his trek along the path. "Hmmm, did you hear a helicopter once, when we were going to the site of the crash? I thought I did – but it didn’t sound close. Wonder if that’s where those two came from?"

"Good question, little brother." Frank walked in thoughtful silence for a bit. "I suspect they were there to collect a certain package before the real FAA investigators show up," he said finally. "And they probably had the plane on radar when it went down. By the way – did you notice that when Mr. Terrible referred to the pilot he said ‘he’?"

"I noticed," Joe replied glumly. "they expected Jack to be piloting the plane."

"This doesn’t look good for Jack, you know."

"Frank, I can’t believe Jack’s involved in a drug scheme!" Joe burst out, stopping to face his older brother. "You’re talking about Jack Wayne, remember?"

"I know, I know." Frank raised his hands, trying to calm Joe’s flaring temper. "I don’t want to believe it, Joe; I just said it doesn’t look good."

Joe snarled wordlessly in frustration, and turned to plunge into the trees again. Frank sighed and followed. They hiked for some time in silence before Joe halted and turned to face his brother again.

"Frank, there’s got to be some other explanation. I will not believe either Jack or April could do something like that."

"Joe, you heard it from April herself. Jack’s evasive and upset; he’s got money troubles; he was supposed to be piloting this flight…this flight, on which happens to be a couple kilos of coke! Until I hear something different, that’s all I have to go on. We need to talk to Jack, I guess…if he’s talking to us these days." Frank started down the trail again, head bent. Joe followed him, his mouth set in a grim line.

Upon reaching their campsite, the brothers efficiently set about breaking camp; taking down the tent, packing up their gear. Although their original plan had been to stay five days in the woods, neither boy was in any mood to continue the camping trip. Both of them wanted to get back to Bayport as soon as possible. They spoke very little; each busy with his own thoughts.

It was fully dark when they finally finished clearing the evidence of their stay. Frank flicked on his little flashlight and sighed.

"I really didn’t want to make this hike in the dark."

"It’ll be okay." Joe laid a hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Frank morosely watched the small beam of light play on the surrounding trees.

"Because – " Joe’s voice rippled with amusement. "I’ve got a flash too." He reached into his duffel bag and drew out an 18-inch Maglite. When he pressed the button, a powerful beam of white light flared in the dark clearing, totally eclipsing Frank’s tiny flash.

Frank stared, opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it with an audible snap. Wordlessly, he turned and started along the path to the trailhead, while Joe fell in behind, his laughter ringing through the trees.

*****

Eight-thirty in the morning found the Hardys heading toward the hospital where they hoped to see April. Frank had telephoned, when they arrived home the previous evening, and was assured that Miss Wayne had been admitted to the hospital; that her injuries had been attended to, and that she was currently sedated, but would be allowed to receive visitors the next day. Realizing there was nothing more they could do that night, the boys went to bed, exhausted.

"I hope she’s feeling okay," Joe commented now, staring out the side window at the smooth-moving traffic around the van.

Frank glanced over at him, smiling a little. "For a girl you never paid any attention to when you knew her before, April sure seems to be on your mind a lot." he teased.

Joe flushed. "She was just a little brat back when we first met her. Why would I have paid any attention to her? Besides – I feel like I got to know her a whole lot better, yesterday. She’s a nice kid, and I think she’s getting a raw deal. Even if Jack isn’t running drugs, she says he’s been on her case lately, and she doesn’t deserve that."

"You don’t know that," Frank reminded him. "Don’t make snap judgments, Joe."

Joe ignored him, and studied the passing scenery with great attention.

Inquiring at the front desk, they were told where April’s room was, and took an elevator to the third floor. As Frank and Joe walked down the hospital corridor, nurses and orderlies hurried past on errands, paying no special attention to the two teens. They quietly approached room 329, and heard voices coming through the partly-opened door…voices raised in anger.

"If you’d taken your own flight, like you were supposed to…!" The boys exchanged glances; they recognized Jack Wayne’s deep tones. They hesitated, unwilling to walk into the middle of an argument.

"I’ve switched runs with you before; it never made any difference!" April exclaimed, her voice shaky. She sounded near tears.

"Yeah, well, this time it did. And see what happened? Now we’re short a plane. How am I going to get all those deliveries made on time, with only one plane – and now you’re in here, and I’m short a pilot, too!"

"You care more about the plane than you do me!" April cried. "Oh, you’re such a great guy, Jack! I could have been killed, for all you care, as long as the plane came down intact!"

"That’s not true, and you know it, you silly little brat!" Jack snapped. "But if I’d been piloting that run, this wouldn’t have happened!"

"I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m a perfectly capable pilot, and I didn’t do anything to cause that crash! You’re saying now that I’m not good enough to fly for you?"

At this juncture, Frank rapped on the door and pushed it open. He entered the hospital room with Joe at his heels; both of them looking apologetic, but resolute.

"Hi April, hi Jack." Frank said calmly. "We thought we’d come by and see how you were feeling now, April."

How April was feeling was all too evident. She was propped half-sitting in the hospital bed, her right arm in a cast and sling; her head bandaged, and an IV tube attached to her left hand….and at the moment, she was crimson with fury, tears running down her face in a steady stream. She looked totally miserable.

"Frank – Joe! Hey, hi you guys." Jack forced a smile; held out his hand to each of the boys in turn. "I’m glad you showed up; I wanted to thank you for helping April yesterday."

"We were glad to do it, Jack." Frank replied. "We’re glad she’s going to be okay."

"Hey Frank—" Joe caught his brother’s attention. "Why don’t you and Jack go out in the hall for a little while, and let me talk to April. Three visitors at a time is probably too many, don’t you think?"

"Oh, yeah, right…." Frank grasped the tall pilot’s arm and steered him towards the door. "Come on, Jack, let’s go over to the waiting room, and get a cup of coffee." Before the surprised Jack could protest, Frank had him in the hall, and he closed the door firmly behind him as he left.

Joe walked over to April. "Hey, kiddo," he said quietly. "What’s shakin’?" He perched on the edge of the bed and searched the bedside table for a box of tissues; achieving his goal, he dabbed at April’s wet face with one, then put another into her good hand. "Blow," he instructed. She obeyed, attempting to laugh a little through her tears.

"You – treat me like – I’m five years old." she gulped accusingly.

"Nope. Not at all." Well, maybe a little, Joe thought, suddenly remembering Rachel Thomas, a five-year-old with a similarly tear-streaked face he had encountered a couple of months before. "I see they got the blood out of your hair," he commented, candidly surveying her. The caramel-colored hair looked clean, and had been neatly brushed and plaited into two braids. If not for the bandage, one would never know April had been in a plane crash, just by looking at her face.

"One of the nurses’ aides did that – it was so nice of her…." April turned her face toward the window, away from Joe. "You heard Jack, didn’t you? He got here early this morning…and he’s been yelling at me ever since."

"I bet he’s just feeling guilty because you were hurt. Guilt makes people act angry, sometimes." Joe patted her shoulder. "What were all your injuries, when everything was tallied up?"

April turned back toward him. "Oh, nothing too serious. The broken arm, some bruised ribs – one was cracked, but nothing actually broken; the cut on my head, and of course, the one on my leg." She stretched out her left hand and laid it on his arm. "I would have bled to death if you and Frank hadn’t been there."

"The important thing is, you didn’t bleed to death. You feeling okay now? I mean, you’re not in too much pain?" Joe took her hand, carefully avoiding the IV setup, and felt her fingers curl around his.

"It’s not too bad, and they’re giving me stuff for the pain. Actually, the ribs hurt more than anything else." Her eyes filled with tears again. "Jack’s so mad at me, because I wrecked his plane…I didn’t mean to, Joe!"

"Hey, of course you didn’t mean to!….don’t cry anymore, huh? There’s only one box of Kleenex in here!" Joe handed her another tissue. "April, Jack’s upset right now…he was probably worried sick about you, and his reaction is to get mad and yell. I know it’s a funny way of showing that he cares, but sometimes that’s what people do."

"He didn’t use to yell at me all the time." she said in a small voice, but she managed a tentative smile. Joe returned the smile, much encouraged.

"Attagirl….feeling a little better now?"

She nodded. "Do you specialize in this – making people feel better, I mean? Not rescuing them from plane wrecks."

Joe’s grin widened. "Yup."

In the visitors’ lounge, Frank poured two cups of coffee and handed Jack one. "Let’s sit down, Jack." he invited. They walked over to two comfortable-looking chairs. For a few moments they sat, sipping meditatively.

"April’s going to be all right, I take it?" Frank finally broke the silence. "Her injuries weren’t too severe?"

"Yeah – she had that bad cut on her leg, and her arm’s broken…bruised ribs. But she’s probably going to be released in a day or so." Jack took another sip. "I really appreciate what you and Joe did for her." His voice tightened. "But darn it, Frank, she could have been killed! She didn’t even ask me if we could switch planes! She just had to jump in and take charge! Doesn’t she know that business is bad enough without her doing her own thing and not listening to me?"

"Business is bad?" Frank inquired.

"Well…not bad, exactly; I didn’t mean that. But there’s lots to running a charter/cargo service, and it all seems to cost money. Pilots’ salaries – even though I pay myself and April only minimum – cost of repairs and upkeep to the planes – and now we’ll have to replace one, damn it! – insurance for the planes, insurance for the pilots, insurance for the cargo…advertising. Money goes out and out and out…and not enough ever seems to come in to make up the difference."

"And April makes it tougher? She was always a good pilot, Jack; I don’t remember you arguing with her so much back when you were teaching us both to fly."

"I didn’t yell at her so much then. It was different – then she was just my little sister. I wasn’t the one solely responsible for her. I am now; I’m her guardian."

Huh? Jack’s April’s guardian? What happened to their parents…wait a minute. Frank thought furiously. Now I remember…Jack said once that their mom died when April was born – and their dad died last summer; Mom and Dad went to the funeral.

"And April seems to have this idealistic view of life – everything is either black or white. She doesn’t realize that there are a lot of shades of gray, too." Jack added, his mouth twisted bitterly at one corner.

"It seems odd for you to be doing this, instead of piloting for Dad," Frank remarked. "I always think of you doing that, rather than shuttling cargo and running charter flights. I mean, you did that too, but not full-time."

"Those were the good old days, huh?" A reminiscent smile lighted Jack’s lean features momentarily. "Sometimes I really wish I still was Fenton’s pilot." The smile faded abruptly. "But I needed more money than I could make doing that; it wasn’t steady enough…."

"Jack, is everything okay with the business, really okay?" Frank eyed his friend over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip. "Because if there’s anything that the Hardys can do to help…you know we’re here for you, if things get out of hand."

Jack grinned dourly. "What could you do? You don’t know the first thing about running a cargo delivery service. And besides, what makes you think I need your help?" he added belligerently.

Frank decided to take the bull by the horns. "Jack, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about – Joe and I saw something at the crash site – "

"Don’t go there, Frank!" Jack leaped to his feet, overturning his coffee cup but paying no attention to the liquid splashing his pants. "You don’t know what’s going on – you don’t know anything about it! Do me a favor, huh? STAY OUT OF IT!"

Jack spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving an open-mouthed Frank staring after him.

Sparks and Evergreen don't own the Hardy Boys characters, they belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation, We've just borrowed them for an adventure or two. We will put them back when we're done with them. We do claim copyright to the original characters and themes in this story. Please do not borrow them without the expressed permission of the authors.