The Mystery of the Black Rhino (3 page)

“We need to go,” Chief Collig warned them. “The traffic will be heavy as it is.”

Mr. Hardy got in beside Chief Collig, and Frank and Joe climbed in the back.

They headed down High Street toward the
expressway that would take them to JFK Airport.

Frank and Joe had been right. Chief Collig was having trouble solving a case involving one of Bayport's leading businessmen. Some new information had come to light about the man, and Chief Collig wanted Fenton Hardy's opinion of how it should be handled.

Normally the Hardy boys would have listened to all of the conversation. The case didn't happen to be as interesting to them as the upcoming trip to Africa, though, and that's what the brothers spent the bulk of the drive talking about. By the time they arrived at the international terminal, they had made so many plans, they weren't sure if they'd have any time in Africa to sleep.

Aunt Gertrude had been partially right about the way people would react to the van. The police vehicle did raise a few eyebrows, but no one seemed really concerned. Once they had removed their luggage, the Hardys said good-bye to Chief Collig and headed into the terminal toward the check-in for Kenya International Airways.

“I'm glad there's this new, more direct flight,” Mr. Hardy said. “If we had to go through Europe, it would take almost eight hours longer.”

One at a time they presented their passports and tickets, checked their luggage, and got their boarding passes.

It took them several minutes to get through security, which was very tight. Joe even had to take off his shoes for careful inspection.

Once through security, Mr. Hardy looked at his watch. “I'm hungry. I've been so busy today that I didn't take time to eat much, and it'll be a while after we're airborne before we're served dinner. What about you boys?”

Joe shrugged. “Maybe a snack,” he said.

Frank looked at some of the restaurants just down the hall from where they were standing. “I'm not starved, either, but I could probably eat something.”

They finally decided on one of the fast food restaurants.

After Frank and Joe had finished their hamburgers and fries, they decided that maybe they should eat a second burger, too, in case the flight was delayed and dinner wasn't served until late.

Just as they were each finishing their second hamburger and had considered going for a third one, their flight was announced.

“That's us,” Mr. Hardy said. “Let's go.”

They threw their trash in a garbage pail on the way out of the restaurant and headed toward Gate 43 for their flight to Nairobi.

Just as they passed Gate 42 someone rushed passed them, bumping Frank out of the way.

“Hey!” Frank said. “Watch it!”

Joe stopped walking. “Frank! Look!” he whispered. “That's Jackson! The guy from Fifth Avenue Africana!”

The Hardy boys watched as Jackson stopped at Gate 43 to get in line to board the flight to Nairobi.

“What's wrong?” Fenton Hardy asked.

Frank told him about the encounter with the man in Fifth Avenue Africana.

“We didn't mention it before, Dad, because it didn't seem all that important at the time,” Joe added.

“Well, it may not even be important now. The man obviously has connections to Africa,” Mr. Hardy said. “He would probably have a good reason for taking a flight to Kenya.”

“Mr. Watson implied Jackson had offered to bring him mounted heads of big game,” Frank said, “and even the skins of some animals in danger of extinction.”

Fenton Hardy shook his head in dismay. “I can't believe there are
still
people around the world who
think how they furnish their home is more important than the future of these endangered animals.”

When they arrived at Gate 43, the Hardys got in line to board.

“I hope he's not sitting close to us,” Joe whispered. “That face will give me nightmares.”

Frank nodded his head in agreement.

Fortunately when they took their seats in first class, Jackson was nowhere in sight. Frank and Joe were sitting in side-by-side leather seats. Mr. Hardy was directly across the aisle. No one as yet was sitting in the window seat beside him.

A flight attendant dressed in what Joe thought might be native Kenyan attire handed them hot cloths.

“Oh, that feels good,” Frank said, as he wiped his face and hands with the steaming cloth. He turned to Mr. Hardy. “I could get used to being pampered like this.”

Mr. Hardy grinned. “Well, I figured that we'd be more rested if we flew first class. I didn't want us to be tired when we got there, and the eight-hour time difference will create enough problems as it is. I just hope I don't fall asleep in the middle of one of my talks.”

The same flight attendant now was handing them some delicious-looking snacks and mango juice. “This will get you ready for our food in Kenya,” she said in an accent.

“Great!” Joe said. “I'm starving.”

Mr. Hardy looked across the aisle, raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, but didn't say anything.

Frank took a bite of one of the snacks. “Mmm!” he said. “What's this called?”

“Samosa,” the flight attendant said. “It's deep-fried pastry filled with chopped meat and vegetables.”

Just as the Hardy boys were finishing their second round of Kenyan snacks and fruit juice, the plane began taxiing for takeoff. They put their trays in the upright position and leaned back to enjoy the thrill they always got when a speeding plane forced them back into their seats.

“This must be how astronauts feel,” Joe said as the Kenya International Airways plane raced down the runway. He put his hands on the armrests and pretended that he was heading to the moon.

“Yeah, I guess,” Frank said.

Joe looked over at him. “What's the matter? You usually like takeoffs as much as I do.”

“Nothing,” Frank said. He didn't admit that he was preoccupied. For some reason, he was wondering what Jackson was thinking right now. In fact, he now wished that they were sitting close to him. He'd feel better if he could keep an eye on him all night.

The Hardy boys decided that flying first class was almost like having your own personal staff of flight attendants. Their attendant seemed to anticipate their every wish. She gave them handheld
video games to play and sports magazines to read while they waited for dinner.

Dinner itself was delicious. When Frank and Joe asked what each dish was called, they were given the Swahili names of the foods. One of the flight attendants gave Frank a Swahili phrase book.

“Here's a CD and player that you can listen to also,” she said.

Instead of watching the movie, Frank studied tourist Swahili. When he was finished, he turned to Joe. “You should listen to this, too,” Frank said to his brother. “You never know when the language might come in handy.”

“They speak English in Kenya, too,” Joe reminded him, “so I'll just stick to that.”

“Typical attitude,” Frank said.

“Okay, then I'll let you translate for me,” Joe said.

Frank shook his head and decided to listen to the CD again. Joe was engrossed in the movie. It was one that Frank had taken Callie to see, and he wasn't particularly interested in seeing it again. He looked over at his father. Mr. Hardy's reading light was on, and he was poring over one of the books that Mr. Watson had lent him.

When the movie was over, the flight attendants turned down the lights and brought pillows and blankets for everyone. Some passengers, like Fenton Hardy, still had on their overhead lights—but each delivered only a narrow stream of illumination to
the seat directly beneath it, so readers didn't disturb napping passengers nearby.

Frank stood up and started toward the restroom, but someone a couple of seats ahead got there first.

“It's all right if you want to use one of the others toward the back of the aircraft,” one of the flight attendants told him.

“Oh, no, that's . . . ,” Frank started to say, then changed his mind. “Well, if it's okay.” It had suddenly occurred to him that this would be a great opportunity to check out where Jackson was seated.

He returned to his seat and told Joe what he was doing.

“I think I need to go, too, before I go to sleep, so I'll come with you,” Joe said.

The curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane had already been drawn, but the Hardy boys parted it and headed toward the rear of the aircraft.

They were sure that the flight attendants wouldn't be watching them, so they decided it wouldn't really be necessary to stop at the first restroom. They wanted to locate exactly where Jackson was sitting.

The lights all over the aircraft had been dimmed, so the boys weren't noticed as they conducted their search.

“I don't know why this is so important to me,” Frank whispered. “I'll just feel better if I know where he is, I guess.”

“I agree,” Joe said.

They passed one set of restrooms in the middle of the aircraft that were unoccupied, but continued toward the back of the plane. They found Jackson near the rear of the cabin. He was sitting on the aisle in the last row of seats. He seemed to be asleep, but the Hardy boys didn't take a chance. They passed him without looking too closely. Both restrooms were unoccupied so Frank used one, and Joe used the other.

When they finished, they stood together for a few seconds right behind Jackson's seat. They were close enough to hear a slight snoring noise, letting them know that he was asleep. Then they started back toward first class.

Mr. Hardy was just closing his book when Frank and Joe got to their seats. “I take it you two were on a reconnaissance mission,” he said.

Frank nodded. “Subject is asleep at the rear of the plane,” he said.

“Then I think that's probably what we should do,” Mr. Hardy said. “You won't want to spend your first day in Nairobi in bed, right?”

Frank and Joe settled themselves into their comfortable seats, arranged their pillows and blankets, and turned out their lights.

In just a few minutes, they both drifted off to sleep.

•   •   •

It was almost dawn when the flight attendants began awakening everyone for the landing in Dakar.

The aircraft was only on the ground long enough to refuel and take on a few passengers. The Hardy boys thought, from their formal appearances, that these people were businessmen and -women headed to Nairobi.

When the plane was airborne again, the flight attendants started serving breakfast. Frank was surprised to see an omelette, with hash browns and toast—much like a breakfast his mother would serve. This gave him a feeling of comfort.

The pilot announced that they had crossed the border of Senegal and were now over Mali.

Joe looked out the window. “Hey! I wonder if we'll be flying over Tombouctou,” he said, naming the fabled city that was often used as a metaphor for faraway places.

Frank got a route map out of the seat pocket in front of him and handed it to Joe. “Check it out,” he said.

After a few minutes of searching, Joe said, “It's probably too far north. It looks way out of the way.”

“You never know, Joe,” Frank said. “Pilots don't always fly in straight lines.”

A consultation with a flight attendant who checked with the pilot proved that Joe was right. They would be flying south of Tombouctou.

Over the loudspeaker, the pilot informed everyone
that they were now flying over Bamako, the capital of Mali. He reminded the passengers that a route map was available in their seat pocket and that their flight path would pretty much follow it.

Joe could see that they would cross over Burkina Faso, Ghana, Togo, Benin, Nigeria, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Congo, Uganda, and then Kenya. Joe tried to remember the history of each of the countries that he had studied in class.

Later, just as the pilot announced that they were flying over Kampala, the capital of Uganda, the aircraft started shaking violently.

Several passengers screamed.

The Hardy boys looked at each other.

Frank swallowed hard. “I hope that was just turbulence,” he whispered to Joe.

“Frank, I don't think it was,” Joe said. He pointed out his window. “That engine is on fire.”

Frank leaned over to get a closer look. Joe was right. Below them he could see only the green of the jungle.

“Boys, keep your seat belts fastened,” Mr. Hardy called to his sons, “and listen carefully to any instructions that you're given.”

Joe could see that his father had his cell phone in his hand.
Is he thinking of a way he can contact Mom and Aunt Gertrude?
he wondered. Joe's stomach was beginning to feel queasy.

Frank was thinking of some of the movies he'd
seen where planes crash landed in African jungles. Several people always survived, but they had a hard time coping—with each other, and unfriendly people they encountered in the jungle.
How much of that is true,
Frank wondered,
and how much of it is just Hollywood?

There was a sudden crackling noise, and then the pilot's voice was on the loudspeaker. “We have lost one of our engines, and we've begun to lose altitude, but we think we can make it into Nairobi with the remaining engines. The flight attendants will be passing through the cabin, giving you instructions on what to do in case we have to make a forced landing.”

The flight attendant who had just hours earlier been telling the Hardy boys all about the wonderful food in Kenya was now showing them how to hide their heads in pillows in their laps to protect them during a crash.

Frank couldn't help thinking it wouldn't do much good, because he was sure that a jet going as fast as they were going would be torn apart by all of the trees—but he wasn't going to express that opinion now. He had to hope that everything would be all right.