Overside went the flare, to ignite and throw its fierce, white glare over the approach.
As it settled Don spiraled down, far enough away to make his pass at the water, power-stalling to a safe drop onto the surface.
He gunned the engine enough to bring them close to the old wharf and then let the incoming tide drift them, while Chick, out on a pontoon, sidewise to the piling, caught the rope they had cut and left hanging some nights earlier.
To draw the ship closer was no task.
Securing it, and taking the precaution of pocketing the parts previously removed from the helicopter carburetor, Don passed them up to Chick, whose agility had enabled him to reach the planking of the dock.
“Now,” Don helped by Chick, made the level and drew a small flashlamp out of his coat, “let’s see, first, if anybody’s up here.”
The light of the small torch danced to and fro as they stood in the open door of the old building.
“Nobody at home!” Chick declared, following the light into corners, behind the table, still lying on its side where it had been overthrown in the former struggles, and lifting the trap in the dark corner.
“Down we go!” Don whispered.
“Nothing to stop us.”