And, as though he had heard, Scotty threw the switch. Lights flared on the lab roof, outlining it clearly. Rick struck a match and held it to the saturated cord of rags. Flaming gasoline ran along the cord in both directions, ran up the sides of the cans. There was a loud whoosh of exploding gasoline, and both cans were ablaze. Rick ran away from the heat.
Mike came in low and fast over the lab roof and slapped the plane down on the turf. In a moment he applied the brakes and the wheels whined their protest as they dug up grass. Then the plane was rolling to a stop directly in front of the house.
The pilot jumped out and called, "Hello, gang! Come on, sir. No time to waste!"
Hartson Brant kissed Mrs. Brant and the girls, found time to pat Rick's shoulder, and climbed in. Rick took the suitcase from Barby and handed it to the scientist. The door closed and the plane was whirling, catching them in its prop blast. Mike taxied back fast to the laboratory, turned the plane and revved up, holding on the brakes. Rick saw Scotty emerge from the lab building and go right back in again as the prop wash caught him. Then the plane was rolling ... and lifting. Mike skimmed low over the burning trash cans, banked out to sea, and was gone.
Rick felt a sob rising in his throat and resolutely squelched it. He walked to the burning cans and dropped covers on them. Scotty cut the lights on the lab building.
Had they made it? They wouldn't know. Not until Steve reported that the scientist was safe.
On the porch, Barby asked, "How soon will we know?"
Rick was proud of her. Her voice had trembled only slightly. "Probably not until tomorrow, Sis. Come on. Let's all hike off to bed. It's been a rough evening."
"All right. Rick, we still don't know for sure, do we? About the people in the houseboat?"
"Not for sure. But we have a pretty good idea. How else would Dad get drugged?"