CHAPTER FOUR

The Missing A-Bomb

They reached the ranger fire station shortly after three in the morning. It was a tower of tubular steel reaching over one hundred feet into the air. Jerry craned his neck at the small cabin perched on top of it, a boxlike silhouette against the brilliant starlit sky.

“You _live_ up there?” he asked the ranger.

“Certainly,” Dick said. “It’s very comfortable.”

He led the way up the flight of steel stairs that ran around the outside of the tower. When they reached the platform at the top, Jerry looked down and grabbed frantically at the guard railing.

“Yipes! I can’t even see the ground.”

The ranger pushed the door open, flicked on a wall switch, and a pale amber light bulb flashed on in the middle of the ceiling. Sandy realized that the one-roomed structure was larger than it had appeared from the ground. There was a double-decker wooden bunk against one wall, a comfortable-looking leather easy chair in the nearest corner, and three straight-back wooden chairs. The wall opposite the bed was occupied by a sprawling table; most of the table was taken up by a huge topographic map, dotted with colored pins. A compass and a variety of other instruments were scattered over the table. An impressive short-wave radio rig sat in one corner. The other furnishings included a small refrigerator, a foot locker and a bookcase. The four walls were solid plate glass from waist-height to ceiling.

“This is all right,” Jerry said. “Boy, I’d give plenty to have a little hideaway like this.”

Quiz walked across to the well-stocked bookcase and examined the titles. “What a wonderful place to read and study,” he said enviously.

“It has its advantages,” the ranger admitted. “But it sure gets lonely at times.”

It was the first time Sandy had got a good look at Dick Fellows. He was a pleasant-faced young man with straight black hair, piercing eyes and an aquiline nose. He wore the brown uniform of the Forest Service and heavy storm boots.

Quiz walked to one of the big picture windows and peered out. “I can’t see anything,” he complained.

“Light reflection,” the ranger explained, and flicked off the wall switch, plunging the room into darkness. Immediately, the broad canopy of the forest leaped into prominence, stretching away on all sides beneath them.

“What a view!” Sandy breathed.

“Wait till you see it in the daylight,” Dick Fellows told him. He turned the light on again and went across to the radio gear. “Have you ever worked one of these things, General Steele?”

Russell Steele grinned. “I had one of the first ham licenses in this country, young fellow.”

“Good; I’ll contact headquarters and turn it over to you.”

Russell Steele looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask all of you to step outside until I find out what this is all about.”

“Certainly, sir,” the ranger said. “I’ll take the boys downstairs and give them a lecture on forestry.” He flicked on the switch and picked up the transmitting mike, twirling dials with his free hand.

“KYAT calling KVK.... Fire station KYAT calling headquarters.... Come in, KVK....”

As soon as contact had been established, Russell Steele slipped into the operator’s chair and put on the earphones.

The ranger and the boys made the long descent to the ground, where Prince was waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs. He wagged his tail and rubbed against them when they patted him, but occasionally he would whimper and glance up anxiously at the top of the tower.

“He’s wondering what happened to Uncle Russ,” Sandy said.

Jerry followed the dog’s gaze. “I’m kind of curious to know what gives up there, myself.”

Dick Fellows held up his hand, motioning for silence. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

The boys stopped talking and listened. Faintly from the northwest there came a distant rumble of thunder.

“Maybe we’ll get some rain,” Sandy said hopefully.

“Let’s hope so,” the ranger said. “And pray that it isn’t just a lightning storm.”

“Do you stay up all night looking for fires?” Quiz inquired. “In bad seasons like this, I mean.”

“Sometimes I do, when there’s been a lot of lightning striking in my sector. Most nights I set my alarm clock to wake me up every few hours or so.”

“You live up here all year?” Jerry asked.

“No, we only man these watchtowers during the fire season.”

“How do you get food and water?” Sandy wanted to know.

“There’s a stream just a few hundred yards back, and I get my supplies by packhorse from headquarters.” Dick Fellows went on to describe the fascinating life of a forest ranger.

About twenty minutes later, Russ hailed them from the top of the tower. “All clear. Come on up, boys.”

As soon as Sandy stepped into the observation room, he knew that whatever had transpired between his uncle and the Pentagon had been very serious. Russell Steele’s face was gray beneath its tan, and it was the first time in Sandy’s memory that he had ever looked his age.

“Trouble, Uncle Russ?” he asked hesitantly.

Russ nodded. “Bad trouble. The very worst.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell us what it is, sir?” Dick Fellows said.

“Well—it is top secret—for as long as it’s possible to keep it that way.” Russ Steele seemed to be struggling with a problem. “Still—I’m going to need all the help I can get. And we’re so isolated here that there’s not much chance of a leak, even if you were inclined to blab about it. Which I know you wouldn’t be,” he added hastily.

“You have my word, sir,” the ranger said quietly.

“And ours,” the boys chorused soberly.

There was a glint of determination in the older man’s eyes. “Good. I think you can help. You’re all familiar with the Strategic Air Command, aren’t you?”

“SAC Never Sleeps!” Quiz recited the slogan of the famous Air Force arm. “Their bombers are in the air twenty-four hours a day. If the United States was ever attacked, SAC stratojet bombers armed with A-bombs would be on their way to knock out vital targets in the enemy’s homeland within seconds.”

Russ Steele nodded. “That’s pretty accurate, Quiz. The Strategic Air Command is the watchdog of our borders. Now, for an outfit that is literally flying twenty-four hours a day, their safety record is amazing; statistics show that a man is safer riding in an SAC bomber than he is driving in the family car.” The muscles tightened across his prominent cheekbones. “But accidents do happen. And last night a B-52 stratofortress had a serious accident.”

“I heard about that on the radio,” Dick Fellows cut in. “It crashed somewhere in Manitoba, Canada. All the crew were killed.”

“That’s only part of the story,” Russ went on. “The last radio report from the bomber placed it over Lake Superior. There was a small fire aboard, but the radio operator thought they had it under control. Shortly after that their transmitter conked out. The Air Force never heard from them again—ship blew up in the air just south of White Mouth Lake on the Canadian border.”

Sandy and the others listened in shocked silence as he continued: “Most of the wreckage has been recovered—and the bodies of the crew.” He paused dramatically. “But there is absolutely no trace of the A-bomb they were carrying.”

Dick Fellows let out a long whistle of astonishment. “What happened to it?”

“Nobody knows. The most logical theory is that they jettisoned the bomb when the fire began to get out of control. Over some desolate area. It could have been dumped almost anywhere between Lake Superior and the scene of the explosion. Search teams have been out scouring the most populated areas since dawn yesterday; they’re the critical points. Not that there’s any danger of the bomb detonating, but a thing like this could cause a lot of hysteria. Then there’s the matter of secrecy.” He grinned wryly. “It wouldn’t do for the wrong kind of people to find it—the kind who would put up a tent around it and sell tickets.”

Quiz frowned. “If the bomb casing is cracked or otherwise mutilated, wouldn’t there be some danger from radioactivity?”

Russ Steele regarded the boy solemnly. “I’d prefer not to discuss that aspect right now, Quiz. We won’t be in any danger searching for it, I can tell you that much. The Air Force is going to drop us a couple of Geiger counters from a helicopter tomorrow morning. So we’ll have ample warning if we approach an area contaminated by radioactivity.”

Quiz Taylor’s eyes were enormous behind his thick glasses. “_We’re_ going to look for it?”

“That’s what the call from the Pentagon was all about. They knew I was up here and they want me to take charge of the search operation in this area. We won’t have any help from the military until the more densely populated areas have a clean bill of health, but we’ll do the best we can in the meantime.”

He turned to Dick Fellows. “Ranger headquarters are advising all fire stations within a forty-mile radius to clear the woods of campers, fishermen and sight-seers.”

“You folks are the only party I’ve seen in my sector in weeks.”

“Good. And now I’d suggest that we all get to bed for what’s left of the night. Tomorrow will be a rough day.” He glanced at their packs piled up in the middle of the room. “There’s plenty of room for us to spread our sleeping bags on the floor.”

“You can take my bunk, sir,” the ranger said quickly.

Russ smiled. “That’s mighty generous of you, Dick, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I’ve imposed on you enough for one night.”

When his four guests were settled in their bedrolls, the ranger turned out the lights and scanned the surrounding woods carefully from all four windows.

“I guess it’ll keep till morning,” he said wearily, as he stretched out on his bunk.

Just before he fell off to sleep, Sandy was aware of a tremendous luminous flash in the sky to the northwest. “Heat lightning,” he heard the ranger mumble, but he was too exhausted to worry about it.