Danger in the Extreme by Franklin W. Dixon

hair hanging out under his helmet, climbed into one of the planes.
    â€œThat’s Amanda with him, of course,” Jamal said. “But who’s the pilot?”
    The third figure getting in wore sunglasses and a ski cap pulled down low against the wind. “I can’t tell,” Frank said.
    â€œSammy just wants any edge he can get in the competition,” Joe said. “If he feels better with his own pilot, who cares. We’ll still beat them.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Jamal said. “The gold is ours.”
    When officials were satisfied they had everything organized, the five airplanes, loaded with the first five teams, took off into the air and headed toward the stadium.
    Jamal climbed to ten thousand feet.
    Joe gazed out his window. At this height he could see the entire city of Bayport. Each city block was the size of a postage stamp. “You’ve got thirty seconds to show your stuff, Frank. You ready?”
    Frank was busy clamping his boots into the bindings on his sky surfboard. “Ready,” Frank replied. “Just follow the plan.”
    The Hardys had rehearsed their aerobatics formonths. Frank would execute his spins, flips, and flying positions precisely. It was Joe’s job to get it all on camera artistically so the crowd and judges could see the incredible show on the Jumbotron in the stadium.
    As Joe put on his parachute and cinched it tight, he heard Jamal speaking rapidly into the radio up in the cockpit. “Everything cool?” he asked.
    Jamal looked back over his shoulder. “Sammy Fear’s up to something,” he called over the drone of the engine.
    Frank and Joe looked at each other.
    â€œFear and Mollica didn’t jump,” Jamal continued.
    â€œWhat happened?” Frank asked. “Is something wrong with their plane?”
    â€œNo. They didn’t head back to the airport,” Jamal replied. “They took off due west. The tower’s trying to contact them, but they won’t answer.”
    Joe held up his hands in a gesture of futility.
    â€œThe guy’s crazy. Who knows what he’s up to.”
    â€œThey want you guys to go ahead and jump,” Jamal said. “I’ll bring the plane around, then you can open the door.”
    Putting on their helmets and goggles, the Hardys got ready to jump.
    â€œTen seconds,” Jamal said. Then he started counting down.
    Frank opened the door, and the cold wind came howling in.
    â€œSeven, six, five—” Jamal said.
    Frank slammed the door shut and ripped off his goggles. “Jamal! Head west,” he shouted.
    â€œWhat’re you doing, Frank?”
    Frank looked at his brother, then motioned for him to sit down again. “I think I figured out what Fear’s big stunt is,” he said. “They’re going to kidnap Neal Jordan.”
    â€œWhat?” Jamal shouted. “That’s nuts!”
    â€œNo, listen,” Frank said. “It all makes sense.” He held out his hand and ticked off one finger with each fact. “The maps of the Catskill Mountains I found in Salazar’s hotel room; the sky-diving radio; that wild stunt when Fear and Mollica BASE-jumped from the stadium and Salazar rappelled down—that was practice for the kidnapping attempt. They’re going to fly over the presidential retreat, skydive, and somehow grab Neal.”
    Joe stared at his brother in disbelief.
    â€œThey already tried to kidnap Neal once,” Frank said. “At the snowboard aerials yesterday.”
    Joe’s expression changed. “You mean that prank Sammy pulled by taking Neal’s jump for him?”
    â€œHe told Neal to meet Amanda over at the stadium. That proves it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing like Sammy said. He had a plan, but Agent DuBelle and I screwed it up.”
    â€œAnd this is their backup plan,” Joe said.
    Frank nodded. He dug his wallet out of his pack and found a phone number