Danger in the Extreme by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

Neal had given him tocall when they were ready to visit him in the Catskills.
    Going to the cockpit, he sat down in the copilot’s seat, next to Jamal. “Get on the radio,” he said. “Get us patched in to this number.”
    Less than a minute later, Frank was talking to Agent Ardis at the presidential retreat.
    â€œThat sounds pretty far-fetched,” Ardis said. “I think you should stick to sky surfing and let the Secret Service do its job, young man.”
    â€œJust be extra careful,” Frank said.
    â€œI’ll put everyone on alert,” Ardis replied, but Frank could tell by the tone of his voice that the agent was only humoring him.
    Then Neal got on the line. “Frank, man?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œDude, the skiing’s great.”
    â€œExcellent!” Frank said. “We’ll be there in about—” He looked at Jamal.
    â€œThirty, maybe thirty-five minutes,” Jamal said.
    Frank relayed the information to Neal and signed off.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    About half an hour later, Jamal pointed out of the windshield. “There’s the lodge,” he reported.
    â€œCircle around,” Frank said.
    Jamal took the plane around, while Frank studied the horizon. There was no sign of another airplane. Maybe he’d been wrong about Sammy Fear’s plans after all.
    As Jamal took the plane up to five thousand feet, a safe skydiving altitude, Frank and Joe got ready to jump.
    Joe opened the door and looked out. “This is a pretty intense way to drop in for a visit,” he said.
    Frank laughed as he pulled down his goggles. “See you on the ground,” he said, and jumped out into the wind.
    Seconds later Joe followed.
    The wind grabbed him for a second as he cleared the plane, then he was falling free and clear.
    He enjoyed the view as he counted off the seconds. The mountains were beautiful, and the snow was so white in the bright sun that it made his eyes hurt.
    He pulled his rip cord.
    From experience, Joe expected the chute to jerk him up as it opened and caught air. He felt a slight tug—that was all.
    Joe heard a ripping sound and looked up. His heart caught in his throat.
    His main chute and his reserve had come out in one big tangled ball. The wind whipped at the knotted mass over his head.
    He was not slowing down.

13 Free Fall
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    Joe realized that the guy who had broken into the van hadn’t wanted to steal anything—he’d wanted to sabotage the chutes!
    He spun so fast now that his vision was a blur of flashes of blue sky, then dark earth. It all seemed to blend together.
    Frank saw the trouble his brother was in, but he’d already opened his chute. There was no way he could dive down to help. He watched in shock as Joe fell like a stone, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
    Joe was falling so fast now that he saw black spots in front of his eyes—he was about to lose consciousness. He had to do something, anything.Digging into the pocket of his jumpsuit, he found his pocketknife.
    The freezing wind tore at the knife, trying to rip it from his cold fingers. He got the blade open and reached overhead to the tangle of cords.
    Blindly he started cutting. The blade went through the cords one and two at a time. Joe had no idea if he was cutting lines to the reserve or the main chute. He only knew he was going to hit the ground any second now.
    He sliced through another cord. He felt something give way. Looking up, Joe saw his reserve chute rip away.
    The main chute unfurled about halfway—three or four of its cords were gone. Joe thought he was slowing down a little. But was it too little, too late?
    He gasped in pain as something slammed into his ribs like a baseball bat.
    Realizing he’d hit a tree, Joe reached out to try to grab a branch—anything to slow himself down a little.
    He tumbled through the branches in a cold cloud of snow and snapping limbs.
    He slammed into the ground,