Chapter 20: Discovery in Chickasha

The red and white Chevy Bel Air was waiting on Ponca Avenue when the quartet returned from the Dale house.  Frank ran over to the driver’s window to tell Zach they’d be ready in a second.  Then, he and his friends ran into the house, ready to make some final preparations.

“Walkie-talkies,” said Frank.  “Where did I put those walkie-talkies?”

“I think mom left them in a pile in the basement,” said Nancy.

“What’d she put them down there for?” Frank exclaimed.  “I always keep them in my closet.”

“Yes, well, I guess she thought you’d see them when you went to play with your trains.  Anything I can get?”

“Yes, bring every flashlight you can find,” Frank said, charging down to the basement.

“Um, four?” Nancy called after her brother.

“Every one!” yelled Frank.  “The batteries might be dead on some.”

Nancy shrugged.  “Okay.  I think I can come up with about six.”

“Anything we can do?” Ashley asked.  Her friend shook her head.

“By the time I could tell you where everything is, I’d have found it.  Be back in a flash.”

She was, too, but not before Frank had returned with the walkie-talkies.  Susan met him at the head of the stairs.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.  Without waiting for an answer, “Can I come too?”

Frank shook his head.  “I wish you could, Susan, but there’s only so much room in Zach’s car.  You and Louis will have to stay behind.”

Predictably, Susan wasn’t very happy about that, but she understood.  “Are you sure I can’t ride in the trunk?”

“If we rescue Stephanie and Brittany,” Nancy said, coming back, “then one of them might have to ride in the trunk.  His car only seats six.”  She glanced around at the group.  “Ready?”

“All set,” said Frank.  Auburn and Ashley nodded.

“Onward, then,” said Frank.  “We’re off to Chickasha!”

The drive got off to an aggravating start.  There were several ways to get to Route 9, but they all involved stoplights—lots and lots of stoplights.  When the five finally got through town, they faced another obstacle, as they had to get on the Interstate.  This shouldn’t have been so bad, except there was a lot of construction on I-35 south of Norman, and visibility was very poor at the exit.

“I hope no one’s coming!” said Zach.  “Any accident, and I could be looking at a five-digit repair bill.”

Fortunately, the Interstate was clear this time of afternoon, and they survived.  After that, it was just a couple miles down to the Newcastle exit, where Route 9 became its own thoroughfare again.  Once they exited, they found themselves on a nice, pleasant drive through the country.  Scattered estates, mowed fields, and rolling hills combined for a nice, relaxing trip.

“Look!” said Nancy, as they went up a ramp for Route 62.  “You can see the Devon Tower from here!”

“Wait, really?”  Frank turned to his right, just in time to get a glimpse of Oklahoma City’s tallest building…way off in the distance.

“That’s at least twenty miles away!” he exclaimed, staring at the shiny blue building.  “Amazing!”

On the way to Chickasha, they passed a Subway in Blanchard.  It was right off Highway 62, so they couldn’t help seeing it.  Naturally, Frank suggested they take a look, but a quick search of the area proved disappointing.  Though the store was right downtown, none of the buildings nearby was large enough to hide a bunch of cars.  No car lots were in the immediate vicinity, and the vacant lots were empty.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” said Frank, as they drove on.  “That truck was taking I-44 to wherever it was going, and the Interstate doesn’t go through Blanchard, anyway.  I get the feeling that Chickasha holds the key to the puzzle.”

“What’ll we do if we find the base?” Auburn asked.  “Tell the police?”

“Not right away,” observed Frank.  “If Brittany and Stephanie are still trapped there when the police arrive, they’ll be in a very dangerous situation.  We’ve got to get them out safely first.  Then, we’ll find the police.”

“That’ll be dangerous,” Nancy observed.  “What if we get caught trying to find them?  Then what?”

“She’s got a point there,” agreed Zach.  “Those thugs will know their way around their headquarters better than any of you.  Offense always has the disadvantage.”

“You’re right,” said Frank.  “Maybe we ought to leave someone elsewhere, to call for help in case anything happens.”

“Nancy volunteered,” noted Auburn.  “Maybe she should.”  Auburn had a double motive for suggesting the Anderson girl—she wanted to make sure that she herself was in on the action.

Nancy nodded.  “Fine with me,” she said.  “Only, where do I wait?”

“Somewhere public,” Auburn suggested.  “A place with a lot of people around so if the gang somehow figures out you’re with us, they’ll have a tough time catching you—”

“The library!” exclaimed Frank.  “It’ll be open, of course.  That should be safe enough.”

“Where is it?” Nancy asked.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been before—”

“A couple blocks west of the highway, just south of the downtown,” Zach told the group.  “Car show,” he explained, as to how he knew the location.

“I see,” said Auburn.  “Did you have a car to show in it?”

“As a matter of fact, I…hey!”  It took Zach a minute to realize Auburn was joking.  After all, they were passengers in his Bel Air.

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From Blanchard to Chickasha was only another eighteen miles.  The destination they sought was at the intersection of two railroads—currently the Union Pacific and the Stillwater Central.  A massive grain elevator stood downtown, and Union Pacific still maintained a railyard near where Chickasha’s Rock Island buildings had once stood.

“I didn’t think about it on the way here,” Nancy commented, “but we’re almost directly south of El Reno.  Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” said Frank.  “Don’t go getting yourself kidnapped, this time!”

“You’re forgetting, dear brother—I escaped.”  Stepping out of the car, Nancy waved goodbye to the rest.  “See you.”

The others waved, and the car drove away.  Little did its occupants realize it was the last time they’d see Nancy for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright,” said Frank.  “Our first Subway ought to be coming up—”

“There!” said Auburn, pointing out the window.  “I see the sign on the right.”

“Looks new,” said Frank, eyeing the building, which had been shoved into the strip between the fork for Highway 277 and Stewart Drive.  “The lot’s way too small to hide stolen cars on, though.”

“Yes, but look at that building across the street.”  Ashley pointed at a large, industrial-type building south of the intersection.  “They could fit a lot of cars in there!”

“Sure could,” Frank agreed.  “Only, that’s Ace Hardware.”

“It looks like Ace Hardware,” responded Auburn, “but appearances can be deceiving.  Why don’t you let me check it out?”

Frank thought about it.  “No harm in that,” he said.  “The open sign’s on—they’re permitting company.  If you don’t come out, we’ll go in and get you.”

He took the first available U-turn, then drove back up the street and turned into the hardware lot.  A Ford F-150, load of bricks in the back, was just leaving.  On the other side of the lot, two welders were talking to each other about all the jobs they had coming up next week.

“Seems innocent enough,” Ashley said.’

“It would, if they use part of the building as a hardware store and part of it to store cars.”  Auburn shoved open the right-side door and hopped out.  “Be back in a moment.”

Frank would have volunteered to go in himself, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea.  Auburn would be just a normal girl, if anyone from the gang happened to see her.  Frank was a suspected witness—witness to an attempted murder.  If he could testify, he’d bring the shooter many years in jail, and someone was determined not to let that happen.  He waited in the car, praying that Auburn would be alright.

The minutes dragged on.  Five—ten—fifteen—Zach started getting worried.

“If she’s not out in another minute,” he said, “I think we should—”

“Here she comes, now!” Frank exclaimed.  “What did you find?” he asked the girl, as she got back in the car.

“Inventory covers pretty much the whole building, and the part at the back’s just used for storage—I snuck in and checked,” Auburn reported.  “Mr. Brandt, the owner of the hardware store, is a very nice man—gave me a lollipop.  We chatted for seven minutes—I highly doubt he’s related to the car gang.  However, I did pick up one important bit of information.”

“What was that?” Frank asked.

Auburn pointed up Seward Street.  “Rudolph’s Auto Shop and the buildings next to it have been empty for years.  A developer was going to buy them and build a fast food restaurant there, but the owner absolutely refused to sell.”

“Really?” said Frank.  “Which ones are those?”

“The three just past the car wash, on the east side of the street,” Auburn pointed.  “They were both run by the same guy, but Brandt says they’ve been out of business for twenty years.”

“Hmm,” Frank studied the buildings.  “Right next to Subway—a lot of space—this bears investigation.”  He nodded to Zach.  “Drive slowly up the street, like you’re looking for something.”

Zach nodded.  Putting the car in gear, he followed Frank’s instructions.  They passed a car wash that was still in business—then, a long, rectangular white building with boarded-up windows.  The short side faced the street, and the opposite long side had two beat-up garage doors on it—plus a third sliding door that was big enough to get a car through.  A gravel lot stood between this building and another, larger steel building—also dilapidated-looking, also with a sliding door big enough to permit cars through.  It was this building that had once borne the “Rudolph’s” sign, though “—dolph’s” was now all that was legible.  Between these two buildings, and at the back of the lot, stood a third building, smaller than the other two, but with a sliding door big enough for a car to go through.  The lot itself was empty, except for one small thing.  Actually, it wasn’t very small.

“A moving van!” Auburn exclaimed.  “Atlas Van Lines!”

“Atlas, my foot!” said Frank.  “Probably a car hauler.  Also, check out the tire tracks in that parking lot.  A lot of vehicles have driven around it lately.”

“That salvage shop across the street looks abandoned, too,” Ashley said, gesturing at a long steel building behind a barbed-wire fence on the left.  The fence enclosed a lot which was empty—empty except for a couple rust-bucket automobiles that looked like they hadn’t been driven in over ten years—though appearances could be deceiving.

“Fellers, I think we’ve found the place!” Frank declared.