Fifteen minutes later Vicki was again in the lower hallway, dressed in her flight uniform and with her blue flight bag in her hand.
“My convertible’s out front,” Louise said. “Hop in and I’ll have you at the airport in no time.”
“I’m coming too,” Nina declared.
The three girls piled into the sleek little car, and in minutes it was whisking through the city streets. Then they left the town behind and were rolling along the causeway, a long, sandy strip that ran across the bright blue waters of Tampa Bay. Palm trees swished their heavy fronds in the gentle breeze that blew across the Bay and silhouetted their umbrellalike tops against the blue sky. Bathers and surf fishermen lined the pink-yellow sand of the beach. Nina, as usual, wanted to talk, to speculate about the mystery. But Louise remained silent, concentrating on her driving, and Vicki replied to Nina’s avid questions with “I haven’t any idea, Nina!” or “Gosh, I wonder!”
At last they drew up before the entrance to the terminal building with five minutes to spare. Vicki hurriedly said so long to her friends, and went directly to the manager’s office.
Johnny Baker and Cathy Solms were standing outside the closed door. Both were wearing their flight uniforms.
“Hi, there,” Vicki greeted them. “What’s up?”
“You know as much as we do,” Johnny said, puzzled. “The skipper called the hotel half an hour or so ago—he’d left earlier this morning—and asked us to show up here. Maybe we’re hauling some important VIP back to New York this afternoon. But heck, that’s no reason to rush us out here, just before Cathy and I were going to take one last quick dip in the surf.”
Cathy’s eyes lighted up. “Maybe it’s a planeload of movie stars!”
“Or maybe some South American dictator who was kicked out last night.” Johnny laughed.