Free The Arctic Patrol Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon

Hallbjornsson-Musselman may be an agent of a spy network mixed up in the astronaut case!”
    â€œThat’s probably his primary mission,” Frank reasoned. “When he found out we were coming to Iceland, his second mission was capturing us in order to get us out of the way. He must have been afraid we would get involved with the case.”
    â€œNow what?” Biff asked.
    â€œWell, we’d better go see Steina’s uncle. You and Chet stay here and stand guard. Okay?”
    Soon Frank and Joe arrived at the Icelandic coast guard headquarters, called by the almost unpronounceable name of Landhelgisgaezlan. Its offices were located on Seljaveg, close to the waterfront.
    â€œThe Hardy boys?” a male clerk asked as they entered.
    â€œRight. Frank and Joe, from Bayport, U.S.A.”
    â€œCaptain Sigtryggsson is waiting for you. This way, please.”
    He ushered the visitors into an office with nautical decorations and closed the door. They were greeted by a tall gray-haired man who rose from his chair behind a long desk.
    â€œSo,” he said, after shaking hands and offering the boys two chairs, “you are American detectives!”
    â€œYes,” said Joe. “I know we’re still young, but—”
    â€œNot at all,” the captain replied. “Our best men in the coast guard are young fellows like you. We start them at fifteen, and by the time they are eighteen or nineteen, believe me, they are excellent seamen. Your father is a world-famous detective and I gather he has trained you well in his profession.”
    Frank and Joe felt much at home in the presence of Captain Sigtryggsson. “You have a very fine niece in Steina,” said Frank, returning the compliment.
    â€œThat’s what the boys tell me,” the captain said with a smile. “Ja, ja. Now tell me, what is your question?”
    â€œWe wish to speak to a man named Rex Hallbjornsson,” Frank began. “He may be Rex Mar, sailing on the trawler Svartfugel.”
    â€œI think I can help you,” the captain said. He rose from his chair and went to a map hanging on the wall. “The Svartfugel is probably fishing in waters near Snaefellsjokull.”
    â€œThe glacier?” asked Joe.
    â€œJa. Right here. Perhaps ten miles offshore. We will send you up there.”
    The boys were thunderstruck. “Really?” asked Joe. “How?”
    â€œOn the Thor. Are you good seamen?”
    â€œPretty good,” Frank replied.
    The Icelander walked over to the model of a ship sitting on a table beside the boys.
    â€œThis is the Thor,” he explained. “You know, we don’t have a large navy, but it is a good one.” He said that the Thor was setting out the next day on a fourteen-day tour of duty in Icelandic waters.
    â€œYour Arctic Patrol—isn’t that what you call it?” Frank remarked.
    The captain nodded and continued. “Naturally, I don’t think it will take fourteen days to find the Svartfugel.”
    â€œThen how’ll we get back?” Joe asked.
    â€œWe’ll arrange that later. Perhaps on the Albert. It is a smaller boat on its way back to Keflavik from a two-week tour.” The captain sat down at his desk again and looked straight at the boys. “You are working on the McGeorge case, too!”
    Frank and Joe were startled. “Yes. It’s top secret,” Frank managed to reply.
    â€œOf course. It is most unusual to have civilians involved. But perhaps you can be of help.”
    â€œWe already have a clue,” Frank said, and told about the leather glove. “It matches a similar one we got at the base in Keflavik.” He explained how they had found it, and when.
    â€œExcellent. But Major McGeorge disappeared earlier than that. We searched the area of the sulfur pit.”
    â€œPerhaps he came back,” Frank offered. “Maybe his captors threatened to throw him in if he didn’t tell his