The Treasure Hunt of the S-18
Graham M. Dean
eBook
(THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY, Aug. 25, 2014)
Example in this ebookCHAPTER ONE The Man of MysteryThe high pitched drone of a wasp engine sounded over the municipal field at Atkinson and Tim Murphy, famous flying reporter of the Atkinson News, poked a grease-smudged face out from behind the cowling of a trim biplane and squinted skyward. Against the brilliant sky of the late summer afternoon was the outline of one of the new high speed transports of the Red Arrow Transcontinental Air Express Company.The Day Express, Chicago to the west coast, was swinging around, preparatory to landing on the smooth, crushed-rock runway. Tim watched with appreciative eyes. The new transports, capable of winging their way from coast to coast at better than three miles a minute, always fascinated him. He envied the trim, clear-eyed young chaps who sat at the controls while they in turn would have been willing to exchange their daily routine for the adventurous news assignments which often came Timâs way.The twin motors, mounted in nacelles projecting from the sturdy wing, idled as the ship drifted downward to touch lightly on the runway and roll smoothly toward the main hangar.âStar gazing again?â asked a quiet voice at Timâs elbow.The flying reporter turned quickly. Carl Hunter, manager of the airport, was beside him.âI always get a thrill watching those high speeds come in. Thereâs something in it that gets into my blood and makes it tingle.ââTheyâre the finest transport planes in the world,â nodded Hunter.âIâd like to fly one of them,â mused Tim.Hunter looked at Tim shrewdly. The flying reporter was slender but his muscles were like tensed steel. His blue eyes were clear and unwavering. There was a pleasant twist to his lips but from experience the field manager knew that they could snap into an uncompromising line of determination.âIâll get you a job on the Transcontinental any day you want one,â he said. âCome over to my office and fill out the application blank.ââThat would mean leaving the News,â said Tim. Then, as Hunter grinned broadly, he added, âI guess the smell of printerâs ink is stronger than the call of the skyways. Iâm a reporter first and a flyer second.ââI wouldnât rank either of your abilities ahead of the other. Youâre first class at both.ââThanks, Carl. That reminds me. Have one of the boys finish up this job. Give all of the plugs a good cleaning. Iâd almost forgotten Iâve got another column to write for my department in tomorrowâs paper.ââIâll make out a work ticket right away.âTim slipped out of his jumper and followed the field manager toward the main hangar. The usual crowd of curious people was lined up inside the ropes to watch the passengers as they disembarked. Tim, always on the lookout, scanned them as they came down the steps from the plane.Two attractive girls were first. They looked as though they might be movie actresses. Heâd check the passenger list with the stewardess to make sure. An actress was always worth a paragraph or two.The last man to leave the ship drew Timâs attention. There was something vaguely familiar in the carriage of the head and the set of the jaw.The stewardess came by and Tim hailed her. âWhoâs the tall, well-built fellow in the gray suit?â he asked.The girl scanned the passenger list.âSorry, I canât tell you. He isnât listed.ââWhat do you mean by that? Is he traveling on a pass?ââHardly. I collected his fare in Chicago and heâs getting off here.ââThen you must know his name.ââHe didnât give me his name and instructions from the general manager were to do as he directed so Iâve listed him on my seat chart as âMr. Seven.â Thatâs the chair he occupied on the trip out.âTo be continue in this ebook..................................................................................