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Read Ebook: Flash Evans Camera News Hawk by Bell Frank
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Ebook has 1877 lines and 42781 words, and 38 pages
Flash Evans dribbled the basketball down the gymnasium floor, gave it a final flip through the net, and started for the shower room.
"Not leaving, are you?" his friend, Jerry Hayes, called after him.
"Yes," Flash answered regretfully, "I'll be late getting back to work unless I do. Business before fun, you know."
"All right, but step on it! My ticker says ten of one."
For as far back as the two boys could remember they had been close friends. Both were graduates of Brandale High School, lived on the same street, and enjoyed the same sports.
The two friends quickly dressed. As they left the "Y" building together, Flash strapped a Speed Graphic camera over his shoulder.
"You never go anywhere without that thing, do you?" Jerry remarked.
"Not during working hours. You never know when a big picture may come your way."
"The police did the work," Flash corrected carelessly, "but my pictures helped. And on the strength of them, Editor Riley is giving me a month's vacation instead of the usual two weeks. I start tomorrow."
"Where are you going, Flash?"
"Don't know yet. I may take in the Indianapolis auto races."
The pair had reached a street corner. As they halted to wait for the traffic light to change, an automobile rolled leisurely by close to the curb. Flash stared.
"See that fellow at the wheel!" he exclaimed, grabbing Jerry's arm.
"Sure. Who is he?"
"Bailey Brooks!"
"And who is he?" Jerry demanded bluntly.
"You haven't read about Bailey Brooks, the aviator and parachute jumper?"
"Oh, sure," Jerry nodded, "the fellow who has been having so much trouble. I remember now. Government officials refused him permission to test that new parachute he invented."
"And for a good reason. Brooks claims his new 'chute will open up at a very low altitude. But a month ago when it was given the first test, a jumper was killed."
"Say, that sound truck seems to be following Bailey Brooks!" Flash exclaimed, excitement creeping into his voice. "Something must be in the wind!"
"Sure looks that way," agreed Jerry. "The newsreel lads must be after pictures."
Already the traffic light had changed from red to green. The automobile and the sound truck started to move slowly ahead. Flash knew that if he were to learn the destination of Bailey Brooks and the newsreel men, not a moment must be lost.
Without waiting for Jerry's reply, he signaled a taxi, leaping on the running board as it slowed down.
"Follow that green sound truck!"
The chase led through the business section of Brandale into open country. There the car and sound truck chose a road which wound along the ocean. Some twelve miles from the city, they both drew up at the base of a high cliff overlooking the beach.
"Wait for me," Flash instructed the driver.
As he stepped from the cab, he saw that his hunch had been right. Bailey Brooks was unloading parachute equipment from his automobile.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Brooks," he greeted the aviator. "Are you making a jump from the cliff?"
"You've guessed it," the man grinned. "What paper do you represent?"
"Go ahead," Bailey Brooks responded cordially. "The publicity ought to do me some good."
Flash took a pose of the man beside his car, but decided to save his remaining films for the actual jump.
He wandered over toward the green sound truck which had maneuvered into position near the base of the cliff. A sound technician and two helpers were stringing up their microphone. Two cameramen, on the roof of the truck, were attaching the tripod of a large turret-front camera to the metal platform.
"Joe Wells!"
The cameraman looked around, and climbed quickly down from his perch.
"Well, if it isn't Flash Evans!" he exclaimed heartily. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh, I saw your wagon roll by, and I figured I might get a good picture if I trailed you."
"Same old Flash, always playing hunches," Joe chuckled. "But you figured right. Brooks may crack up instead of cracking silk."
"I hope not. Still, that cliff doesn't look very high."
"He's a fool to try it," Wells declared in a low tone. "But if he's bent on committing suicide just to prove his 'chute will work, that's his lookout. Ours is to take pictures."
The sound technician had finished setting up his equipment. Working with quiet efficiency, he stationed Bailey Brooks in front of the microphone, and took his own position at the mixing panel.
After the recording had been made, Joe led Flash over to the truck.
"Meet our sound expert," he said carelessly. "George Doyle."
The technician, a sullen, serious man of twenty-eight, did not bother to remove the monitor phones from his ears. He stared at Flash, mumbled a few words, and turned his back.
To cover up the rudeness, Joe said quickly:
"You're fitted for newsreel work," Joe declared persuasively. "You have steady nerves, good judgment, and you're cool in an emergency. I know, because I've worked with you. Better think it over."
Flash smiled and offered no response.
A moment later Bailey Brooks came over to say that he was ready to make the jump. Leaving George Doyle and the others below, Flash and Joe began the steep ascent with the aviator. Burdened as they were with heavy equipment, they took it slowly, proceeding in easy stages.
Presently, pausing to rest, Flash glanced downward. He noticed that a coupe had drawn up in a clump of bushes not far from the cliff. A man with field glasses was watching their progress.
"We have an interested watcher," remarked Flash. "Wonder who he is?"
Both Joe and Bailey Brooks turned to gaze in the direction indicated.
"I can't tell from this distance," said the parachute jumper. "It looks like Albert Povy's automobile."
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