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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19258-h.zip b/19258-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..799c8f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/19258-h.zip diff --git a/19258-h/19258-h.htm b/19258-h/19258-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee76308 --- /dev/null +++ b/19258-h/19258-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5338 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung, by Victor Appleton II + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .TOC {list-style-type: decimal; + margin-left: 3em; + text-align: left; + line-height: 150%} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung, by +Victor Appleton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung + +Author: Victor Appleton + +Illustrator: Charles Brey + +Release Date: September 12, 2006 [EBook #19258] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Graeme Mackreth and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus001.jpg" alt="illus" /> +</p> + + + + + + +<h2>TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus002.jpg" alt="grenade" /> +</p> + + + +<h4> +THE NEW TOM SWIFT JR. ADVENTURES</h4> + +<h2>TOM SWIFT</h2> +<h3>AND THE ELECTRONIC<br /> +HYDROLUNG</h3> + +<h4>BY VICTOR APPLETON II</h4> + +<h5>ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES BREY</h5> + +<p class="center"><small>NEW YORK<br /> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +PUBLISHERS<br /></small> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><small>© BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1961<br /> + +Transcriber's note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the + copyright on this publication was renewed.<br /> + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</small></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>CONTENTS</b></p> + + + + + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +<small>CHAPTER </small> </p> + +<ol class="TOC"> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"> <span class="smcap">Pirate Missile</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"> <span class="smcap">Undersea Survey</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"> <span class="smcap">Invisible Sub</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"> <span class="smcap">Aerial Attack</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"> <span class="smcap">A Hunch Pays Off</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"> <span class="smcap">The Caisson Clue</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"> <span class="smcap">Porpoise Tag</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"> <span class="smcap">Date Trouble</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"> <span class="smcap">A Magnetic Kidnaping</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"> <span class="smcap">Telephone Code</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"> <span class="smcap">Square-Dance Hoax</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"> <span class="smcap">Detection Test</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"> <span class="smcap">Enemy Frogmen</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"> <span class="smcap">A Propaganda Blitz</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"> <span class="smcap">Mountain Hike</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"> <span class="smcap">The Gunman's Surprise</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"> <span class="smcap">A Missing Amulet</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"> <span class="smcap">Smiley the Sea Cow</span> </a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"> <span class="smcap">Flash from the Depths</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"> <span class="smcap">A Lucky Blast</span> </a> +</li> +</ol> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><b>CHAPTER I</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>PIRATE MISSILE</b></p> + + +<p>Tense, excited men gazed spaceward from the ships and planes of the +South Atlantic task force. Other watchers waited breathlessly in the +control room of the ship <i>Recoverer</i>. Among these was Tom Swift Jr.</p> + +<p>"How close to earth is our Jupiter probe missile?" Bud Barclay asked Tom +excitedly.</p> + +<p>The lanky blond youth beside him, in T shirt and slacks, shot a glance +at the dials of the tracking equipment. "Eight thousand miles from this +spot, Bud. It should land here in fifteen minutes!"</p> + +<p>Tom Jr., his father, Bud, and a host of scientists, Navy officers, and +newsmen were crowded aboard a U.S. Navy missile launching ship.</p> + +<p>"Just think!" Bud exulted. "You'll have data from the planet Jupiter +that no one on earth has yet been able to get!"</p> + +<p>"<i>If</i> we recover the missile safely," Mr. Swift spoke up hopefully. +The elder scientist's voice was quiet but taut with the strain of waiting. +The two Swifts resembled each other closely—each had deep-set blue eyes +and clean-cut features—although Tom was somewhat taller and rangier.</p> + +<p>"You're right, Dad," Tom agreed. "If we don't snare the missile, our +whole project will be a total loss to America's space program!"</p> + +<p>At Tom's words, the watchers and crewmen who were crowded into the +<i>Recoverer</i>'s control room stirred restlessly. Its bulkheads were +banked with radar and telemetering devices. Tension had been mounting +throughout the morning aboard the ships and observation planes of the +task force as everyone awaited the return of the planet-circling +missile—scientists' deepest penetration into space so far.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, a total loss?" Bud argued. "Even if the recovery +operation's a flop, the shot will still pay off in valuable information, +won't it?"</p> + +<p>Tom shook his head grimly. "The purpose of this unmanned, exploratory +flight around Jupiter was to take and record all kinds of data. But none +of the info is being radioed back to us."</p> + +<p>"How come?"</p> + +<p>"If we had put in radio gear strong enough to relay signals back, it +would have cut down the amount of information-gathering equipment +aboard," Tom explained. "We had to make every ounce count."</p> + +<p>Outwardly calm, Tom was seething with inner excitement. Although only +eighteen—the same age as his husky, dark-haired pal and copilot, Bud +Barclay—Tom had been given the job of directing the recovery phase of +the United States government's Project Jupiter survey. The Swifts and +their rocket research staff had built the missile and engineered the +space probe for the government.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" Bud gave a nervous whistle. "I see what you mean, pal. With all +our eggs in one basket, we sure can't afford to get butter-fingered with +the Jupiter prober."</p> + +<p>Admiral Walter, a tall, distinguished man, graying at the temples, +smiled. "It's what we call in warfare a calculated risk, Bud," he said. +"But with Tom in charge, I believe we have nothing to worry about."</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift's eyes shone with fatherly pride at the admiral's remark. Tom +Jr.'s pioneering rocket flights and inventions had won the youth a top +rank in American space research.</p> + +<p>"Guess you're right, sir," Bud agreed. "I'll back genius boy here any +day!"</p> + +<p>Tom winced as Bud whacked him heartily on the shoulder. "Better save +your orchids and keep your fingers crossed, fly boy," the young inventor +advised. "That rocket's not home yet."</p> + +<p>Radio telescopes, both on land and aboard the ships of the task force, +were following the missile's progress as it drew closer to earth. All +were feeding a steady stream of information to the ships' computers.</p> + +<p>"How soon will you fire the retro-rockets, Tom?" Admiral Walter inquired +presently.</p> + +<p>"In about ten seconds, sir," Tom replied, eying the sweep second hand of +the clock.</p> + +<p>Moments later, a red light flashed on the master control panel. Tom's +finger stabbed a button. Far out in space, the retarding rockets in the +missile's nose were triggered for a brief burst, slowing its high speed. +Without this, the missile would hurtle to flaming destruction in the +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"We've picked it up!" shouted a radarman.</p> + +<p>Bud gave a whoop of excitement and everyone crowded around the +radarscope. Tom's steel-blue eyes checked the blip. Then he threw a +switch which started an automatic plotting machine that had been +prepared with the landing plan, and noted that the missile was slightly +off the correct path. A new flow of information now began pulsing in as +other ships' tracking radars recorded its course. The data was being fed +automatically to the "capture" computer. This would analyze the correct +flight path for the recovery missile, which would magnetically seize the +returning traveler from Jupiter and bring it safely home.</p> + +<p>Tom quickly read off the results from the computer's dials, then busied +himself again with the retarding-rocket controls.</p> + +<p>"Everything going okay, skipper?" Bud asked.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded. "I've readjusted the retarding rockets. They'll fire at the +proper intervals to slow down the missile still further and bring it +back on beam."</p> + +<p>The excited buzz of voices in the compartment gradually quieted as the +clock ticked steadily toward the next step in the recovery operation.</p> + +<p>"Stand by for missile firing!" Tom snapped.</p> + +<p>A seaman relayed the order over the ship's intercom. Tense silence fell +as Tom's eyes followed the sweep of the second hand.</p> + +<p>"All clear for blast-off!" came the talker's report.</p> + +<p>Tom pressed the firing button. A split second later the listeners' +eardrums throbbed to a muffled roar from topside as the slender recovery +missile shot skyward. The ship rocked convulsively from the shock of +blast-off. Then it steadied again as the gyros damped out the +vibrations.</p> + +<p>"Wow!" Bud heaved a sigh of relieved tension. Then he dashed from the +compartment and up the nearest ladder for a quick look at the rocket as +it disappeared into the blue.</p> + +<p>Tom watched the recovery missile intently on the radarscope.</p> + +<p>"Nice going, son," said Mr. Swift quietly.</p> + +<p>In response to his father's reassuring grip on his arm, Tom flashed him +a hasty smile. For the first time, the young inventor realized he was +beaded with perspiration and that his pulse was hammering.</p> + +<p>"It's a case of wait and hope," Tom murmured.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus003.jpg" alt="radar" /> +</p> + + +<p>On every ship and plane in the task force, eyes were glued to the radar +screens. Two small blips were visible—one the Jupiter probe missile, +the other the recovery missile—moving on courses that would soon +intersect.</p> + +<p>Just as Bud returned to the compartment, several of the watchers gave +startled gasps.</p> + +<p>"Another blip—coming in from nine o'clock!" Admiral Walter exclaimed. +"What's that?"</p> + +<p>Tom stared at the new blip. It was moving steadily toward the meeting +point of the first two missiles!</p> + +<p>"It's a thief missile!" Tom cried out. "Some enemy's trying to steal our +probe data!"</p> + +<p>"Good night!" Bud gulped. "Who'd dare try that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Tom muttered tensely. "But if those three missiles meet, +our whole project will be wrecked!"</p> + +<p>"Better tape all readings!" Mr. Swift advised.</p> + +<p>"Right, Dad!"</p> + +<p>Admiral Walter had paled slightly under his deep tan. In stunned +silence, the Navy officers and scientists watched as Tom's lean hands +manipulated two controls.</p> + +<p>"What are those for?" Bud asked.</p> + +<p>"One's to speed up our recovery missile," Tom explained. "Looks like a +slim hope, though, from the way that third blip is homing on target. +This other control has just caused every instrument on this ship, and +all the others in the task force, to make permanent records on magnetic +tape of all their readings.</p> + +<p>"If a collision occurs and the probe missile falls into the sea," Tom +went on, "there's only one hope of recovery—to plot the exact +geographical position and then get to the spot before the enemy does!"</p> + +<p>"Roger!" Bud agreed.</p> + +<p>It was obvious that Tom's fears about the missiles colliding were well +founded. The mystery blip had veered as the recovery missile speeded up. +Within seconds, the three blips met on the screen and fused into a +single spot of light.</p> + +<p>"The probe missile's no longer responding to control!" one of the +telemetering scientists called out.</p> + +<p>Admiral Walter, grim-faced, flashed a questioning look at Tom. "Then +recovery has failed?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so, sir."</p> + +<p>The fused blip was still visible on screen as the radar dishes tracked +it, moving in a way that indicated a steep downward plunge.</p> + +<p>For a moment Tom felt numb with despair. But he set his jaw firmly and +turned to the admiral.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I'd like helicopters readied for take-off immediately," Tom said. +"As soon as the tracking instruments lose contact, have the recording +tapes picked up from every ship in the task force and brought here to +the <i>Recoverer</i>."</p> + +<p>Admiral Walter nodded tersely. "Very well. Then what?"</p> + +<p>"I'll get to work right now," Tom replied, "and lay out a computer +program to process the readings."</p> + +<p>The data—consisting of millions of information "bits" from the +shipboard instrument tapes—would be fed to an electronic brain. The +brain would then calculate the probable location in latitude and +longitude of the sunken missile.</p> + +<p>As the admiral snapped out orders, Tom exchanged a brief worried glance +with his father. Each was pondering the same thought.</p> + +<p><i>Could Tom find the lost Jupiter probe missile? Or would their enemy +locate it first?</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><b>CHAPTER II</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>UNDERSEA SURVEY</b></p> + + + +<p>With an effort, Tom forced all thoughts of failure out of his mind and +concentrated on the job at hand. In an hour he had the computer program +blocked out.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift and several of the other scientists checked his work. Each +nodded approval. By this time, the fused blip had long since disappeared +from the radarscopes, indicating that the Jupiter probe missile—or what +was left of it—had plunged to the ocean bottom.</p> + +<p>"What's your next move, Tom?" Admiral Walter asked.</p> + +<p>"No point in wasting time waiting for the computer results," Tom +decided. "Suppose Bud and I fly back to Swift Enterprises and organize a +search party."</p> + +<p>"Good idea." As Admiral Walter extended a hand, his weather-beaten face +softened. "And don't feel downhearted, son. You rate a Navy 'E' for the +way you handled this operation. It would have succeeded if it hadn't +been for that confounded enemy missile!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir." Tom managed a grateful grin, in spite of his +discouragement.</p> + +<p>Minutes later, the two boys embarked in a motor launch that took them to +an aircraft carrier standing by in the vicinity. From the flattop they +took off in a Navy jet for Shopton.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Swift remained aboard the <i>Recoverer</i> to supervise the +data processing. Tom, looking back from the soaring jet, could see one +of the helicopters on its way to the missile ship to deliver the first +batch of tapes.</p> + +<p>It was late afternoon when the Navy jet touched down on the Enterprises +airfield. The Swifts' sprawling experimental station was a walled, +four-mile-square enclosure with landing strips, work-shops, and +laboratories, near the town of Shopton. Here Tom Jr. and his father +developed their amazing inventions.</p> + +<p>Tom and Bud hopped into a jeep at the hangar and sped to the +Administration Building, where Tom shared a double office with his +father. Bud sank down into one of the deep-cushioned leather chairs, +while Tom adjusted the Venetian blinds to let in the afternoon sunshine.</p> + +<p>The spacious office was furnished with twin modern desks, conference +table, and drawing boards which swung out from wall slots at the press +of a button. At one end of the room were the video screen and control +board of the Swifts' private TV network. Here and there stood scale +models of their inventions, a huge relief globe of the earth, and a +replica of the planet Mars.</p> + +<p>"What are your plans for our search expedition, skipper?" Bud asked.</p> + +<p>Tom ran his fingers through his crew cut. "Let's see. We'd better take +the <i>Sky Queen</i>, I think, and also—"</p> + +<p>Tom broke off as the desk intercom buzzed. Miss Trent, the Swifts' +secretary, was on the wire.</p> + +<p>"Your father's calling over the radio, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Swell!" Tom flicked a switch to cut in the signal of his private +telephone. "Hi, Dad! We just got back. Any news?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, son. We have the computer results," Mr. Swift replied. "Got a +pencil handy?"</p> + +<p>Tom copied down the latitude and longitude figures as his father +dictated.</p> + +<p>"According to the latest hydrographic maps, based on IGY findings," Mr. +Swift went on, "this area is a high plateau of the Atlantic Ridge—it's +near the St. Paul Rocks."</p> + +<p>"What about the depth?"</p> + +<p>"It averages between a hundred and three hundred feet," said the elder +scientist.</p> + +<p>Tom gave a whistle. "Lucky break, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe and maybe not," Mr. Swift said cautiously. "The bottom there is +heavily silted."</p> + +<p>"Oh—oh." Tom made a wry face. "In that case, we may have some digging +to do."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so. However, no use borrowing trouble." After a short +discussion, the elder scientist added, "I'll probably fly home tomorrow, +son. Give my love to Mother and Sandy."</p> + +<p>"Right, Dad. So long!" Tom hung up and reported the news to Bud.</p> + +<p>"What kind of underwater gear will we use?" Bud inquired.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure myself," Tom admitted. "Guess we'll have to take along a +variety of equipment and play it by ear."</p> + +<p>Before proceeding with his search plans, Tom phoned home to inform his +mother of his arrival. Mrs. Swift was sympathetic when she heard of the +failure to recover the probe missile.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you'll locate it," she said encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Some of your cooking will sure help brighten the picture," Tom replied +with a grin. As he put down the receiver a moment later, he told Bud, +"You're having dinner with us tonight, pal. Fried chicken and biscuits."</p> + +<p>Bud licked his lips. "Lead me to it!"</p> + +<p>Chuckling, Tom began drawing up a list of supplies for the expedition. +Bud helped with the details, after which Tom phoned the underground +hangar and the Swifts' rocket base at Fearing Island to give the orders +for the next day. Crewmen were also detailed for the trip.</p> + +<p>It was six o'clock when the two boys finally piled into Tom's low-slung +sports car and drove to the Swifts' big, pleasant house on the outskirts +of Shopton. Sandra, Tom's blond, vivacious sister, greeted them at the +door.</p> + +<p>"About time!" she teased. "We were beginning to think you two had taken +off somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Think I'd leave town while you and that fried chicken are in Shopton?" +Bud grinned.</p> + +<p>"What a line!" Sandy's blue eyes twinkled. "I know it's the fried +chicken you're really interested in."</p> + +<p>"Where's the rest of that 'we' you were referring to?" Tom inquired.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Tom," Sandy said in a mournful voice. "Phyl couldn't make +it."</p> + +<p>As Tom's face fell, she burst out giggling and a second later Phyllis +Newton emerged from the kitchen. Brown-eyed, with long dark hair, Phyl +was the daughter of Tom Sr.'s old comrade-in-arms and lifelong chum +"Uncle Ned" Newton. Like Sandy, she was seventeen.</p> + +<p>"You didn't think I'd miss this rare evening, did you, Tom?" she said, +laughing. "After all, it isn't often we see you two."</p> + +<p>Sandy and Phyl liked to needle the boys about their infrequent dates, +due to Tom's and Bud's busy schedules.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swift, slender and sweet-faced, gave Tom a hug and greeted Bud +warmly. Over the delicious dinner, the conversation turned to the +mysterious thief missile.</p> + +<p>"Who on earth could have fired it?" Sandy asked.</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged. "No telling—yet. There's more than one unfriendly country +which would give a lot for the data picked up on our Jupiter shot."</p> + +<p>"You aren't expecting more trouble, are you?" Phyl put in uneasily.</p> + +<p>Tom passed the question off lightly in order not to alarm his mother and +the two girls. But inwardly he was none too sure of what his survey +expedition might encounter in trying to locate the lost probe missile.</p> + +<p>Ever since his first adventure in his Flying Lab, the youthful inventor +had been involved in many daring exploits and thrilling situations. Time +and again, Tom had had to combat enemy spies and vicious plotters bent +on stealing the Swifts' scientific secrets.</p> + +<p>His research projects had taken him far into outer space and into the +depths of the ocean. With his atomic earth blaster, Tom had probed under +the earth's crust at the South Pole, and in other adventures he had +faced danger in the jungles of Africa, New Guinea, and Yucatan. His +latest achievement, receiving the visitor from Planet X, had been to +construct a robot body for this mysterious brain energy from another +world. Now, Tom realized, he was on the brink of another adventure which +might hold unexpected dangers.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning the majestic <i>Sky Queen</i> was hoisted from its +underground hangar berth and hauled by tractor to its special runway. +This mammoth, atomic-powered airplane had been Tom's first major +invention. A three-deck craft, it was equipped with complete laboratory +facilities for research in any corner of the globe. Jet lifters in the +belly of the fuselage enabled the craft to take off vertically and also +to hover.</p> + +<p>As Tom supervised the loading of the equipment, a foghorn voice boomed, +"'Mornin', buckaroos!"</p> + +<p>The chunky figure of Chow Winkler came into view. Formerly a chuck-wagon +cook in Texas, Chow was now head chef on Tom's expeditions. As usual, a +ten-gallon hat was perched on his balding head and he was stomping along +in high-heeled boots.</p> + +<p>"Wow! A shirt to end all shirts!" Tom chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Real high style, eh?" Chow twirled about to display his latest Western +creation. The shirt seemed to be made of silvery fishlike scales, which +glistened like a rainbow.</p> + +<p>"I figured as how this was just the thing fer an ocean jaunt," Chow +added with a grin. "How soon do we take off, boss?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as we get the rest of this gear stowed," Tom replied.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later the <i>Sky Queen</i> soared toward the ocean. Soon +they came in sight of Fearing Island rocket base, a few miles off the +coast. Once a barren stretch of sand dunes and scrub-grass, the island +was now the Swifts' top-secret rocket laboratory, guarded by drone planes +and radar. It served as the supply base for Tom's space station and as the +launching area for all space flights. Seacopters and jetmarines were +also berthed here.</p> + +<p>A radio call from Tom brought a sleek, strange-looking craft zooming up +to join them.</p> + +<p>It was the <i>Sea Hound</i>, latest and largest model of Tom's amazing +diving seacopter. It had an enclosed central rotor, powered by atomic +turbines, with reversible-pitch blades for air lift or undersea diving. +Superheated steam jets provided forward propulsion in either element.</p> + +<p>As the <i>Sea Hound</i> streaked alongside the Flying Lab, two figures in +the seacopter's flight compartment waved to Tom and Bud. One was Hank +Sterling, the blond, square-jawed chief pattern-making engineer of +Enterprises. The other was husky Arv Hanson, a talented craftsman who +transformed the blueprints of Tom's inventions into working models.</p> + +<p>"All set," Hank radioed. "Lead the way."</p> + +<p>"Roger!" Tom replied.</p> + +<p>Flying at supersonic speed, they reached the area of the lost missile in +the South Atlantic soon after lunch. Already on hand were ships of the +Navy task force assigned by Admiral Walter to participate in the missile +search. The <i>Sea Hound</i> settled down on the surface of the water, +while the <i>Sky Queen</i> hovered at low altitude nearby.</p> + +<p>Tom contacted the government craft and learned that as yet no sign of +the lost Jupiter prober had been detected. Then he made ready to begin +his own search.</p> + +<p>"Let's try the Fat Man suits first," Tom told Bud. Turning to Slim +Davis, a Swift test pilot who was in the crew, the young inventor added, +"Take over, will you, Slim?"</p> + +<p>"Righto." Slim eased into the pilot's seat.</p> + +<p>"Got a job for me, skipper?" asked Doc Simpson, Swift Enterprises' young +medic.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Help the boys, if you like, rig the undersea elevator, and then +assemble a tractorized air dome," Tom suggested.</p> + +<p>"Will do," Doc promised.</p> + +<p>A ladder was dropped. Tom and Bud excitedly descended to the <i>Sea +Hound</i>. The search for the lost missile was about to begin!</p> + +<p>Once the boys were aboard, the seacopter submerged and dived quickly to +the ocean floor. Tom and Bud each climbed into a Fat Man suit and went +out through the air lock. The suits, shaped like huge steel eggs with a +quartz-glass view plate for the operator seated within, had mechanical +arms and legs.</p> + +<p>The boys waddled about, the built-in searchlights of their suits +piercing the murky gloom. They saw nothing but the deep accumulation of +silt on the ocean bottom, which made the going difficult.</p> + +<p>"This is too slow," Tom called over his sonarphone. "Let's try the air +dome."</p> + +<p>The dome was a huge underwater bubble of air, created by a repelatron +device which actually pushed the ocean water away. The air supply inside +was kept pure by one of Tom's osmotic air conditioners which made use of +the oxygen dissolved in the water.</p> + +<p>The air bubble, however, even with its jet-propelled platform, also +proved inadequate for the research job. Its caterpillar treads +repeatedly bogged down in the silt.</p> + +<p>"Maybe the seacopter itself is our best bet," Bud suggested.</p> + +<p>"Worth a try," Tom urged.</p> + +<p>But the <i>Sea Hound</i>, too, had a serious drawback. Even with its powerful +search beam sweeping the ocean floor as it prowled along, the explorers +found their vision too limited.</p> + +<p>Finally Tom said, "Bud, we could skin-dive at this depth."</p> + +<p>"Let's give it a whirl," Bud urged.</p> + +<p>The seacopter surfaced again, while the boys donned flippers, masks, +and air lungs. Then they dropped over the side and made their way slowly +downward into the gray-green depths, accustoming themselves gradually to +the increased pressure.</p> + +<p>"A lot more freedom of action," Tom thought. "If only we didn't have to +communicate by signals!"</p> + +<p>There was a sudden <i>swoosh</i> somewhere on his right. A projectile, Tom +realized! Turning, his eyes widened in horror as he saw an uprush of +bubbles.</p> + +<p>Bud's air tank had been hit!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><b>CHAPTER III</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>INVISIBLE SUB</b></p> + + +<p>Without wasting a moment, Tom lunged through the water toward his +stricken friend. Bud was floundering and thrashing about weakly. He +seemed dazed by the sudden shock of his plight.</p> + +<p>"Or maybe the impact of the projectile stunned him!" Tom surmised.</p> + +<p>Bud began groping his way upward just as Tom came alongside of him. Tom +grabbed him as best he could, hooking onto his belt. At the same time, +the young inventor inhaled deeply, yanked out Bud's useless mouthpiece, +and inserted his own in its place.</p> + +<p>Bud's eyes glowed with gratitude.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to get topside fast," Tom thought, "even though it means +risking the bends."</p> + +<p>He stroked upward and they shot toward the surface. Bud assisted to some +extent, partly revived by the gulp of air.</p> + +<p>As they rose, fathom by fathom, their progress seemed to grow +maddeningly slower. Tom had to let air bubbles escape constantly from +his mouth. As the pressure decreased, due to the lessening depth of the +water, the air in his lungs expanded and he was forced to breathe out.</p> + +<p>Tom noticed with dismay that Bud was not responding very well, his +feeble strokes were jerky and uncoordinated. "Must've lost pressure too +fast when his tank was hit," Tom realized.</p> + +<p>The water was growing greener and brighter now as they neared the +sunshine. The <i>Sea Hound</i>'s shadowy outline loomed just above. With a +last desperate burst of strength, Tom lunged upward and they broke +water.</p> + +<p>"H-h-help!" Tom gasped.</p> + +<p>There was no need for the cry. Hank and his crew, on the seacopter's +forward deck, had already grasped the situation. Strong arms reached out +and hauled the two boys aboard.</p> + +<p>Both of them were shivering and writhing in pain, only half conscious.</p> + +<p>"They have the bends!" Arv Hanson cried in alarm. "Signal the <i>Sky +Queen</i> to drop a sling!"</p> + +<p>The boys' masks were ripped off. Within moments, Bud had been tightly +secured to the sling, which was reeled back up into the plane. Tom +followed in a few minutes. Doc Simpson took charge of the patients +immediately. After a quick examination, he had the boys placed in a +small decompression chamber in the <i>Sky Queen</i>'s sick bay.</p> + +<p>"How are they?" Hank asked anxiously as he peered through the window of +the chamber. The medic had given Bud a sedative and he was already fast +asleep. Tom remained awake.</p> + +<p>"Aside from the pain, not in too bad shape," Doc Simpson replied.</p> + +<p>It turned out that Tom's case was not so serious, but Bud had to stay in +bed. With Tom, it was only a matter of decompression and he soon was up +and about.</p> + +<p>Chow, in a chef's cap, with an apron around his paunchy stomach, had +come stomping in hastily from the galley. "Pore lil ole boys," he +fussed. "Brand my snorkel, I never should've let you young'uns go pokin' +around down below there without me around to keep an eye on things!"</p> + +<p>Tom slapped the loyal old Texan on the back. "If you want a dive, come +along."</p> + +<p>"You're goin' back down?" Chow asked.</p> + +<p>"In the seacopter," Tom replied. "To find out, if possible, who fired +that projectile at us."</p> + +<p>"Then count me in!" Chow declared, stripping off his apron. "I just hope +I get my hands on them sneakin' polecats!"</p> + +<p>Slim Davis would pilot the <i>Sky Queen</i> back to Shopton at once, because +of Bud. Tom and Chow, meanwhile, would join Hank and his crew aboard the +<i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the sleek seacopter, its searchlight off to avoid +detection, was plummeting downward through water that changed before +their eyes from greenish blue to a deep-gray gloom. Iridescent fish +darted past the cabin window.</p> + +<p>"Think the enemy sub was searching for our Jupiter prober?" Hank asked.</p> + +<p>"It must have been," Tom reasoned.</p> + +<p>Hank frowned. "Which means they must have figured out the missile's +position as fast as our side did."</p> + +<p>"And they'll play rough to stop us from finding it," Arv added +forebodingly.</p> + +<p>Within moments, the group clustered in the pilot's cabin felt a gentle +bump as the <i>Sea Hound</i> settled on the submerged plateau. Tom relaxed at +the controls but kept the rotors going so the craft would remain +submerged. Meanwhile, the sonarman was probing the surrounding waters.</p> + +<p>"Any pings?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>The man shook his head without taking his eyes from the sonarscope. +"Nothing yet."</p> + +<p>Hank Sterling donned a hydrophone headset and listened intently. The +silence deepened in the <i>Sea Hound</i>'s cabin. Suddenly Hank stiffened and +the sonarman cried out:</p> + +<p>"A blip, skipper! At two o'clock!"</p> + +<p>It was moving rapidly on the scope—something streaking toward their +starboard beam!</p> + +<p>"Good night! It's another missile!" Tom gasped.</p> + +<p>He darted back to the controls and gunned the reverse jets just in time! +The missile flashed across their bow.</p> + +<p>"Great bellowin' longhorns!" Chow gasped weakly. His leathery face had +gone pale under its tan. "The yellow-livered drygulchers!"</p> + +<p>"I don't get it," Arv Hanson spoke up. "If they're in firing range, we +should have detected them, shouldn't we?"</p> + +<p>Tom nodded grimly. "Whoever our enemies are, they must have perfected a +way to make themselves invisible to underwater detection.</p> + +<p>"<i>And we'll have to do the same!</i>" he vowed inwardly. Aloud, Tom said, +"I hate to run from those sneaks, but if we stick around, we'll be +asking for trouble."</p> + +<p>Slowing the rotors to permit the craft to rise, Tom guided the <i>Sea +Hound</i> back to the surface. Then he reversed blade pitch for air flight +and gunned the atomic turbines. The seacopter rose steeply above the +billowing South Atlantic.</p> + +<p>Tom radioed a terse report of their experience to the task-force +commander and in turn was told that none of the naval craft had either +sighted or picked up any sign of a strange sub.</p> + +<p>As they streaked homeward, Chow was still fuming. "Why don't we post a +dummy sub there to scare off the varmints?"</p> + +<p>"I'll pass the idea along to the Navy," Tom said with a grin.</p> + +<p>Night had fallen when the searchers arrived back at Fearing Island. Tom +cleared with the tower and landed, then went by jeep to base +headquarters. He called Enterprises and learned that Bud's condition was +improved, and that Mr. Swift had returned that afternoon. He spoke to +him about the mystery sub.</p> + +<p>"This is bad news indeed, son," Mr. Swift said, after hearing how the +attacker had defied detection. "You'd better inform Admiral Walter. He +had to fly back to Washington."</p> + +<p>"I'll call him right away," Tom promised.</p> + +<p>The admiral was equally disturbed when Tom succeeded in reaching him. +"We must find that missile as soon as possible—at any cost," he said. +"Tom, you Swifts have had considerable experience in undersea dredging. +Could you send a team of engineers to assist us in the work?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," the young inventor replied. "I'll assign men to the job +first thing tomorrow."</p> + +<p>After hanging up, Tom hopped back to the mainland with Chow in a Pigeon +Special. This sleek little commercial plane was manufactured by the +Swift Construction Company in charge of Ned Newton.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning Tom and his father drove to Enterprises, and the +young inventor plunged into the job of organizing an engineering crew +for the missile hunt. Art Wiltessa, a crack underwater specialist as +well as engineer, was placed in charge.</p> + +<p>By noon the group had taken off for the South Atlantic in a Swift cargo +jet. A small portable model of Tom's atomic earth blaster was included +in their equipment. A jetmarine and a diving seacopter were also +dispatched from Fearing to assist in the operations.</p> + +<p>"It's apt to be a long-drawn-out job—and dangerous," commented Mr. +Swift as he lunched with Tom in their office.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Digging in that silt could be almost as bad as working in +quicksand."</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift's deep-set blue eyes took on a thoughtful gleam. "Speaking of +silt, son, I've found the ideal spot for my secret deep-sea farm."</p> + +<p>"You mean for growing those plants you use in making Tomasite?" Tom +asked.</p> + +<p>The elder scientist nodded. Tomasite, a revolutionary plastic which Mr. +Swift had developed, possessed amazing insulating properties against +both heat and radiation. One of its secret ingredients came from certain +plants found only in Far Eastern waters. Mr. Swift hoped to transplant +them locally.</p> + +<p>"The site is near Fearing Island—about fifty feet in depth," he added.</p> + +<p>"You may have a tough time finding gardeners, Dad," Tom pointed out. +"Men can't work that far down for very long at one time."</p> + +<p>"It'll be a problem," Mr. Swift conceded. He finished his coffee, then +looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. "How about figuring out a solution +for me, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"A new kind of air lung?" Tom was intrigued!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><b>CHAPTER IV</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>AERIAL ATTACK</b></p> + + + +<p>"Yes, son," Mr. Swift went on. "What's needed is a new type of breathing +device—one that will eliminate bulky air tanks and permit a skin diver +to stay down for long periods."</p> + +<p>"Quite an order, Dad."</p> + +<p>Grabbing a pencil, the young inventor began sketching. In both his Fat +Man suits and his osmotic air conditioner, Tom had already perfected +ways of drawing oxygen from sea water.</p> + +<p>"But a small gadget for skin divers," he said, "will take a fantastic +job of electronic miniaturization." After a pause he added, "It could +really speed up recovery of the Jupiter prober, though."</p> + +<p>Lunch over, Tom hopped a jet scooter and sped off to his private +laboratory. The modernistic glass-walled structure—designed by Tom +himself—had every tool of modern scientific research, from electronic +microscope to helium cryostat.</p> + +<p>As always, whenever he was absorbed in a new idea, Tom was eager to get +to work. "Let's see what I'm shooting for. A small container, slung +around the diver's neck?... No, too dangerous. Better hook it to his +weight belt, with a tube to his face mask."</p> + +<p>Using a plastic foam "breadboard," Tom began experimenting with various +circuit designs. He worked through the afternoon and returned to the +problem early the next morning.</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by a message from Art Wiltessa, reporting no luck so +far in finding the missile. Later, shortly before lunch, Tom received +another call, this time from Admiral Walter. "Just wanted to keep you +posted, Tom. Our task force reports no success on their part in finding +the buried missile. No sign of the enemy, either."</p> + +<p>"They'd probably hesitate to attack any official U.S. Navy units," Tom +said. "Or it might mean they've already found the missile themselves."</p> + +<p>"That's what I fear," Admiral Walter confessed gloomily. "However, we'll +continue searching."</p> + +<p>Tom promised to fly down to the site at the first opportunity, saying he +was developing a new device that might assist in the search. After +snatching a hasty lunch, Tom returned to work.</p> + +<p>Arv Hanson machined several parts and molded the plastic face mask to +Tom's specifications. By evening the new device was completed.</p> + +<p>"Now for a test," the young inventor said to himself.</p> + +<p>Sandy Swift and Phyl Newton were eager to watch the test, so the next +morning they drove to the plant in Phyl's white convertible. Tom, clad +in swim trunks, was waiting for them with Chow near the edge of a +mammoth concrete tank. Set in bedrock, at one end of the Enterprises +grounds, the tank was used for submarine testing.</p> + +<p>When Sandy saw the power unit strapped to Tom's weight belt, she +exclaimed, "<i>That</i> little gadget will supply all the air you need? Why, +it's no bigger than a pocket transistor radio!"</p> + +<p>Tom grinned. "I hope it will. That's what I intend to find out."</p> + +<p>"How does it work?" Phyl asked, fascinated.</p> + +<p>Tom explained, "Actually its function is to replace the carbon dioxide +that I exhale with fresh oxygen drawn from the water. Otherwise, +although the carbon dioxide I'd breathe out would be a very small amount +at a time, it soon would make the air unfit. The nitrogen, which makes +up much of the air we breathe, is chemically inert and can be used again +and again."</p> + +<p>He pointed to a round screen on one side of the unit. "This is the water +intake," Tom went on, "and this other screen is where the water comes +out after we've removed its oxygen."</p> + +<p>Near the forward end of the unit, a semirigid plastic tube was +connected, leading up to the face mask. At the rear was a power port for +inserting a small solar battery.</p> + +<p>"What about this little tuning knob?" Sandy asked.</p> + +<p>"That's the rate control for adjusting the output frequency to the +wearer's breathing rate." Tom added, "I've decided to call the whole +apparatus an 'electronic hydrolung.'"</p> + +<p>Chow pushed back his ten-gallon hat and scratched his head dubiously. +"Wal, I'm keepin' a net handy to drag you out, boss, just in case."</p> + +<p>Tom chuckled and fitted the mask over his face, then made a clean dive +into the tank. For the next ten minutes the girls and Chow watched +wide-eyed as he swam, walked around, and went through vigorous exercises +at the bottom of the tank without once coming up for air.</p> + +<p>"Whee!" Sandy exclaimed when Tom finally climbed out. "Make me one, so I +can take up skin diving!"</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful!" Phyl added admiringly.</p> + +<p>Tom took off his mask. "I'm pretty pleased with it myself," he admitted, +grinning.</p> + +<p>The girls stayed at Enterprises for lunch. Then the group, accompanied +by Doc Simpson, flew to Fearing Island so Tom could test his invention +in deep water. Boarding a small motor launch, with Doc at the helm, they +cruised out to a suitable depth and dropped anchor.</p> + +<p>"Don't become too confident, Tom," Doc warned. "I'll drop a signal line +over the side in case of emergency."</p> + +<p>Tom buckled on his equipment belt and adjusted the face mask. Then he +held up crossed fingers and back-flipped over the gunwale into the +water. Chow, Doc, and the girls watched his plummeting figure fade from +view.</p> + +<p>Tom, an expert skin diver, had never before felt such a sense of ease +and freedom under water. He was moving, light and self-contained, in a +green, magical world. With no air tanks chafing his back, he felt akin +to the fishes themselves.</p> + +<p>"Wish I'd brought a hook and line along." He chuckled, as a school of +mackerel darted past.</p> + +<p>Now came the real test. Deeper and deeper, Tom cleaved his way downward. +Reaching bottom, he prowled about the ocean bed for a while, then +started up again. Suddenly a stab of pain shot through his chest—a +warning of nitrogen bubbles forming in his blood!</p> + +<p>Tom swam toward the signal cord, dangling dimly in the distance. By the +time he reached it, his muscles were knotting with cramps.</p> + +<p>"It's the bends again, all right!" Tom realized. Gritting his teeth, he +yanked hard on the line, then summoned his strength to hang on.</p> + +<p>Doc and Chow hauled up frantically. Tom's face was contorted with pain +when they finally got him aboard and stripped off his mask.</p> + +<p>"Oh! How awful!" Phyl gasped.</p> + +<p>Sandy cradled Tom's head in her lap, and Phyl held his hand +sympathetically, while Doc Simpson injected a hypodermic to ease the +pain. Chow steered the launch back to shore, and Tom was rushed to the +base infirmary in an ambulance.</p> + +<p>Here he was placed in a decompression chamber for several hours and +later transferred to a hospital bed. Bud Barclay came to visit him.</p> + +<p>"We're a fine couple of fish," he said.</p> + +<p>Tom chuckled wryly. "<i>Live</i> fish, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"In my case, thanks to you," Bud said.</p> + +<p>"Forget it, pal. The score's about even, I should think," Tom said, +recalling the many life-or-death adventures they had shared.</p> + +<p>Bud was thrilled to hear of Tom's electronic hydrolung. The young +inventor spent the evening sketching out an improved design to eliminate +future accidents.</p> + +<p>"I'll install a special device to remove the nitrogen as the wearer +exhales," Tom explained. "Then a valve will feed in helium to replace +it. Since helium doesn't dissolve in the blood like nitrogen does, it +will not bubble out when the pressure is reduced. Should have thought of +that before!"</p> + +<p>"But you'll need a tank for the helium, won't you?" Bud objected.</p> + +<p>Tom shook his head. "Enough can be compressed into a small capsule to +supply the wearer's needs. Remember, it can be used over and over +again."</p> + +<p>"Pretty neat," Bud commented.</p> + +<p>By morning Tom felt thoroughly recovered. He insisted upon flying back +to Enterprises to make the necessary changes in his hydrolung. Bud +accompanied him, eager to get back on the job.</p> + +<p>In a few hours Tom had added a small fitting to his power unit to +provide for helium substitution. Then the two boys hopped back to +Fearing for a second deep-water test. This time, Tom was delighted to +find that he could operate comfortably at great depths, as well as rise +or descend suddenly without ill effect.</p> + +<p>Bud was aglow with enthusiasm. "Boy, we can really explore now!"</p> + +<p>After the boys had returned to Enterprises, Tom phoned Arv Hanson and +asked that a duplicate of the hydrolung be turned out in the shop as +soon as possible. It was ready the following Monday morning, so Tom +suggested to his father that the two visit the proposed underwater site +and make some sample plantings.</p> + +<p>"Great idea, son," Mr. Swift agreed. "I want to try out your new diving +apparatus myself. If it's successful, we'll be able to tackle two +problems at once—recover the Jupiter prober and start the 'sea farm.'"</p> + +<p>They flew to Fearing, then went by boat to the farm site, about half a +mile offshore. Each carried several of the valuable Far Eastern plants.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus004.jpg" alt="flying" /> +</p> + + +<p>The silt beds which Mr. Swift had selected were just deep enough to +keep the plants from being discovered, yet enable them to receive +sufficient sunlight.</p> + +<p>Tom and his father started their planting. But no sooner had the first +plants been embedded than fish darted in to nibble them. Even the roots +disappeared into their greedy maws.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though we'll have to build some sort of net enclosure around +and over our farm," Mr. Swift said, after they had climbed back into +the boat. "But at least your hydrolung device is a great success, son!"</p> + +<p>Tom was thoughtful. "Dad, I wonder if the fish would eat those plants +from space which you've been growing under salt water?"</p> + +<p>Tom was referring to certain strange plants rocketed to earth by unknown +space friends with whom the Swifts had been in communication.</p> + +<p>"I have a hunch," Tom went on, "that the fish might be repelled by the +unusual scent of those space plants. If so, we could scatter them among +the earth plants to keep the fish away."</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift was impressed by Tom's idea. As soon as they had returned to +Enterprises, he proposed that the experiment get under way.</p> + +<p>Tom volunteered to undertake the job at once with Bud. While the young +inventor phoned his copilot, Mr. Swift went to his own laboratory to +prepare the plants for shipment.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later the boys took off in a jet. The plants had been +parceled in transparent plastic film. Glistening with a red metallic +sheen, they looked somewhat like tulips with honeycombed centers.</p> + +<p>"Scarecrow plants to drive off fishes," Bud joked. "What will scientists +think of next!"</p> + +<p>Tom laughed, then abruptly frowned. "Hey! What's that character up to?" +he said. "Trying to buzz us?"</p> + +<p>A sleek gray jet without markings was arrowing in on them from three +o'clock. Bud flicked on the radio and barked a warning. The plane made +no response. As it kept coming, Tom increased speed—then rolled, dived, +and changed course, but failed to shake off their pursuer.</p> + +<p>Bud, meanwhile, was frantically calling Enterprises and a nearby +airport, but getting no response. Yet their radio was working, for a +voice suddenly crackled:</p> + +<p>"<i>Follow the mystery plane for a landing and you won't be harmed!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><b>CHAPTER V</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>A HUNCH PAYS OFF</b></p> + + +<p>Dismayed, Tom and Bud stared at each other. Apparently the enemy ship +had blanked out their radio communication to all points except the +mystery plane.</p> + +<p>"Who are you and what do you want?" Tom said into his microphone.</p> + +<p>The voice replied crisply, "<i>You'll find out when the time comes!</i>"</p> + +<p>Tom flicked off his mike and exchanged another worried glance with Bud. +"We seem to be in a spot, pal!"</p> + +<p>"And how! Especially if that crate's armed!" Bud muttered. "But what are +they after?"</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged. "The space plants maybe—or possibly our jet."</p> + +<p>"Might even be <i>us</i> they want," Bud said. "Got any tricks under your +magician's hat?"</p> + +<p>Tom's brain was already racing to figure a way out. Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "Hey! I almost forgot!" he exclaimed. "Look in the locker, +Bud, and see if we have the radio set that neutralizes all +interference!"</p> + +<p>Bud's face brightened. "Now you're talking!"</p> + +<p>The set had been perfected during Tom's <i>Cosmic Astronauts</i> adventure, +in defense against an Oriental enemy's jamming-wave generator. Bud found +it in the locker, dragged it out joyfully, and plugged it into the power +supply.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the mystery jet had banked in a wide circle and headed west. +As Tom stalled for time, it swooped back again and the same voice came +snarling over the speaker.</p> + +<p>"<i>I warned you to follow us! Or would you prefer to be shot down?</i>"</p> + +<p>As if to back up the threat, a burst of tracer fire grazed Tom's plane.</p> + +<p>He hastily switched on his mike. "Okay, hold your fire! I guess we have +no choice!"</p> + +<p>The jet turned back on its westerly course, and Tom followed obediently. +Meanwhile, Bud had warmed up the other radio and contacted Enterprises. +Tom switched mikes long enough to report their position, course, and +speed, adding:</p> + +<p>"Tell Security to alert Vignall Air Force Base pronto!"</p> + +<p>"Roger Wilco!" the Enterprises operator responded. Even if the enemy +ship detected the call, Tom knew the automatic scrambling device would +prevent the message from being understood.</p> + +<p>Minute after minute, the flight continued. "Where are they taking us?" +Bud muttered.</p> + +<p>"Some out-of-the-way landing spot probably," Tom conjectured. "I wonder +how soon those fighter boys will—"</p> + +<p>Bud suddenly grabbed Tom's arm and pointed to starboard. "There they +come, skipper!"</p> + +<p>Three gleaming specks had just burst through a cloud bank to the north. +Closing in rapidly, they were soon visible as Air Force fighter jets, +flying in V formation.</p> + +<p>"Fighter One to unmarked jet!" came the sharp command over the radio. +"Can you read me?... You'd <i>better</i> read me, pal! I order you to proceed +to Vignall Air Base under our escort or take the consequences!"</p> + +<p>The mystery pilot, evidently bewildered by the sudden onslaught, made a +frantic effort to escape. But the fighters, with almost contemptuous +ease, quickly surrounded the plane and forced him to comply with orders.</p> + +<p>Bud whooped with laughter. "Just a sheep in wolf's clothing, eh, +buster?"</p> + +<p>Minutes later, all the planes, including Tom's, landed at the airfield. +Four sullen-faced men, their hands up, emerged from the mystery jet. +Military police with drawn automatics herded them to the commandant's +office. Tom and Bud followed.</p> + +<p>"Attempted aerial piracy, eh?" the commandant said when he heard the +boys' story. Turning to the prisoners, he snapped, "Who are you, and +what's the meaning of all this?"</p> + +<p>The crew captain, a hard-looking, stockily built man of about +forty-five, rasped back, "We have nothing to say."</p> + +<p>The commandant wasted no words. "Search them," he told the MP's.</p> + +<p>Their wallets and various other items revealed little. The crew captain +was carrying a private pilot's license on which he was identified as +"Jack Smith." The names of the others, as shown on identification papers +of one kind or another, sounded equally false.</p> + +<p>"Probably all forged," the commandant muttered, "but we'll check them +out."</p> + +<p>He tried again to glean something from the prisoners, but they replied +with sneering evasions. The commandant reddened with anger at their +stubbornness. "All right. Take them to the guardhouse," he ordered.</p> + +<p>As the MP's marched the hijackers off, Tom asked how their case would be +handled.</p> + +<p>"The crime is a federal offense," the commandant explained. "Air Force +Intelligence will co-operate on the case, but the prisoners will be +turned over to a federal marshal."</p> + +<p>Tom briefed him on the background of the situation, including the +Jupiter-probing missile mystery, then asked, "Could those men be +transferred to the Shopton jail for the time being so our own security +setup can take a hand in the investigation?"</p> + +<p>The commandant nodded. "I'll arrange it."</p> + +<p>As the boys flew back to Enterprises, Bud threw Tom a quizzical glance. +"How come you mentioned the Jupiter prober, skipper? Do you think those +hijackers were after information?"</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged. "I'm wondering myself, Bud. If they were, it could mean +our enemy hasn't found it yet!"</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the experimental station, Tom made a full report to +Harlan Ames, the slim, dark-haired security chief. Ames listened +thoughtfully but was as baffled as Tom.</p> + +<p>"Are the men Americans?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it," Tom said. "They speak English well enough, but with a +faint accent. Somehow, I have a hunch they're Brungarians."</p> + +<p>Ames whistled. "That could spell trouble, skipper." More than once, +Brungarian rebel agents had engaged in brazen plots against America and +the Swifts.</p> + +<p>"Let's hope I'm wrong," Tom said wryly.</p> + +<p>"Art Wiltessa—and the Navy—called again," Ames added. "Still no luck +on the missile search."</p> + +<p>The gloomy news did nothing to lift Tom's spirits. The next day, hoping +to verify or disprove his suspicion, he drove to Shopton Police +Headquarters with Harlan Ames. The two talked briefly with Chief Slater, +an old friend. Then a turnkey took them to the cell block.</p> + +<p>The four prisoners had been confined in a single large cell. They seemed +tense and angry—as if they had been quarreling among themselves.</p> + +<p>"Ready to talk yet?" Ames asked. Getting no reply, he repeated the +question in Brungarian.</p> + +<p>Ames's ruse failed. "What language is that?" asked "Captain Smith" +mockingly. "Pig Latin?"</p> + +<p>As his cellmates grinned, Tom's eyes roved over their faces. One +man—wavy-haired with penetrating dark eyes—seemed oddly familiar. Why? +Suddenly the answer hit Tom like a flash. He resembled Streffan Mirov, +the brilliant Brungarian rocket scientist who had tried to oust Tom's +expedition from the phantom satellite Nestria.</p> + +<p>Playing a hunch, Tom said to him, "You know what your government does to +rebels and bunglers, Mirov."</p> + +<p>The man stiffened and paled. "We have not b-b-bungled!" he stuttered +angrily.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, you fool!" their leader shouted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><b>CHAPTER VI</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>THE CAISSON CLUE</b></p> + + + +<p>"Captain Smith" had leaped to his feet, quivering with anger. But it was +too late. His cellmate, by answering to the name of "Mirov," had given +away their nationality!</p> + +<p>Tom and Ames exchanged grins of triumph.</p> + +<p>"No doubt you recall what happened to Streffan Mirov," Tom went on, +pressing his advantage. "Or should I say the <i>late</i> Streffan Mirov? Our +last report was that he had been tried and condemned by your own +government. Perhaps you can give us news of his fate?"</p> + +<p>The wavy-haired prisoner's eyes blazed with hate. "Grin while you can, +Tom Swift! Because of you, my brother Streffan is now serving a long +prison sentence! But I, Dimitri Mirov, will get revenge!"</p> + +<p>"You blame Tom Swift because your brother botched his job of claiming +the satellite Nestria by force and fraud?" Ames taunted.</p> + +<p>"Our space friends moved that asteroid into orbit around the earth," Tom +added. "We claimed it by right of first landing. Even your own leaders +couldn't agree to Streffan's crazy scheme to destroy everything."</p> + +<p>Dimitri Mirov lost all control and burst into a volley of guttural +Brungarian abuse.</p> + +<p>"I warn you, Swift!" he choked. "Jailing us will not make you safe—or +your projects, either!"</p> + +<p>A blow to the head from "Captain Smith" sent Mirov reeling back against +the wall. "Fool! Maybe that will quiet you!" the pilot snapped +viciously. "You have said too much already!"</p> + +<p>"Let's go, Tom," said Ames. "We've learned the information we came for."</p> + +<p>The prisoners could only glare in baffled rage through the cell bars as +Tom and the security chief turned their backs and walked away.</p> + +<p>"Nice going, Tom," Ames murmured. "Your hunch certainly paid off." Chief +Slater added his congratulations when he heard how Tom had trapped Mirov +into disclosing his identity.</p> + +<p>Both Tom and Ames were grave as they drove back to the plant. Neither +took Mirov's threats lightly.</p> + +<p>Tom pondered another angle. Were the Brungarian rebels perhaps +responsible for the attempted theft of the Jupiter-circling missile?</p> + +<p>Ames was inclined to think so. "Moreover," he forecast, "it's a cinch +they haven't thrown their last punch. I'll pass the word to the FBI and +Central Intelligence."</p> + +<p>After lunch Tom flew to Fearing Island with Bud, eager to tackle their +interrupted job of rooting the space plants into the undersea silt beds. +Zimby Cox, a sandy-haired, freckle-faced jetmariner, volunteered to +pilot a motor launch for them.</p> + +<p>They sped across the water, then dropped anchor at the farm site. Tom +and Bud donned their hydrolung gear and went over the side, each +clutching containers of the space plants.</p> + +<p>Reaching bottom, they glided about in the shadowy green water, embedding +the plants at far-spaced intervals. The Tomasite-producing plants had +been almost completely devoured. A few fish were darting about, but they +swam off quickly at the boys' approach. To Tom's delight, they showed no +sign of returning.</p> + +<p>"Looks as if our keep-off signs are working," Tom said with a pleased +chuckle when the boys finally surfaced and climbed back aboard the boat.</p> + +<p>Bud nodded. "Smart idea, all right." Then he scowled thoughtfully. "But +if you ask me, skipper, fishes aren't the only thieves you'll have to +guard against."</p> + +<p>"Meaning?"</p> + +<p>"Mirov's pals," Bud replied. "If it's the space plants they were after +when they pulled that aerial hijack attempt, they could take them easily +from these silt beds."</p> + +<p>Tom sobered. "You have a point there. I'd better have an audio screen +set up around this whole area. That'll act as a burglar alarm—and help +discourage the fish, too."</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later the boys were winging back to the mainland. When +Tom reached his office, he called in Gib Brownell, an Enterprises +engineer.</p> + +<p>"Got a job for me, skipper?"</p> + +<p>Tom handed him a hastily scribbled diagram of the audio-screen setup. +"One of those hurry-up deals, Gib," he said with an apologetic grin. Tom +explained his plan. "We'll use transmitter buoys, monitored by an alarm +system at base headquarters on Fearing."</p> + +<p>Brownell studied the diagram and nodded. "Right. We can have it set up +in twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>As Brownell left the office, the telephone jangled. Tom reached for it.</p> + +<p>"Admiral Walter calling." His voice was tense. "Important news, Tom. One +of our subs has picked up a clue that someone has been operating in the +missile search area."</p> + +<p>"What sort of clue, sir?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"A compressed-air caisson for underwater work. It had been driven into +the silt and then abandoned." Admiral Walter added that photographs and +a section of the caisson were being flown to the Naval Research +Laboratory for careful study. "I'll have a full report transmitted to +you by video as soon as it reaches my desk."</p> + +<p>Tom thanked the admiral and hung up, feeling more uneasy than ever. The +report came through the following morning. Tom absorbed the contents, +then gave a low whistle.</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" asked Bud, who had just dropped into the office with some +flight-test data on a new Swift superjet.</p> + +<p>"Our old enemies again." Tom shoved the papers across his desk.</p> + +<p>The report stated that both the design and manufacturing techniques used +in making the caisson indicated that it was of Brungarian origin. A +spectrographic analysis of the steels confirmed the theory. Their +metallurgical content agreed with known Brungarian steel formulas.</p> + +<p>"The sneaky rats!" Bud cried out. "Well, at least we know now who +sabotaged our missile recovery."</p> + +<p>As Tom paced about the office, Bud added, "What do you suppose they were +using the caisson for?"</p> + +<p>"Probably as a base for some heavy, rotating search equipment," the +young inventor surmised.</p> + +<p>"But why ditch it?"</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged. "An optimistic guess is that they spotted our Navy search +force and pulled out quickly, fearing a surprise attack."</p> + +<p>"What's a pessimistic explanation?" Bud asked.</p> + +<p>"Mission completed," Tom said grimly. "No need for them to stick around +if they'd already snagged the missile."</p> + +<p>Bud scowled at the thought. "Oh, no! That mustn't be true!"</p> + +<p>Tom plopped down at his desk, frowning. "Bud, I've been itching to get +to work on a non-detectable sub, like the one that attacked us. But +maybe it would be smarter to get a line on Mirov's pals first."</p> + +<p>"You mean down in the South Atlantic?"</p> + +<p>Tom nodded. "I'd sure like to know if they found that missile."</p> + +<p>"You and I both, pal!" Bud agreed. "Hey! We could use the electronic +hydrolungs for scouting around!" he added eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I intend to," Tom said. "But we'll need speed to cover the area. So +first I want to add an ion drive to our equipment."</p> + +<p>"Ion drive? For underwater?" Bud, who was familiar with ion propulsion +for spaceships, wrinkled his brow in a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>"A goofy idea just occurred to me, but I think it may work out," Tom +replied. He seized a pencil and began explaining what he had in mind.</p> + +<p>The drive unit would take water into itself, separate the ionized +molecules, and expose them to an electric field. Thus a stream of water +would be forced out. This procedure, in turn, would set up a siphoning +action through a central tube—in effect, creating a small but powerful +water-jet motor.</p> + +<p>"We'll be human submarines!" Bud exclaimed.</p> + +<p>By the time Bud left the laboratory half an hour later, Tom had already +plunged into work on his newest invention. The idea was simple enough in +itself, Tom felt. The main problem would be the design job—laying out a +compact, lightweight unit which a swimmer could easily carry on his +back.</p> + +<p>Fascinated, the young inventor worked late into the evening, stopping +only in response to a telephone plea from Mrs. Swift. By midmorning the +next day, Tom had assembled a pilot model of his ion-drive jet. In +appearance, it was a slender metal cylinder, two feet long, with an +inner concentric tube projecting at each end.</p> + +<p>Tom had ordered a tank set up in his laboratory to test the unit. The +tank was filled chest-deep with water, and the ion drive was mounted on +a unitrack running the length of it. Tom set up his control board +alongside, with the main power switch within easy reach. The drive unit +was connected to the board by a suspended cable.</p> + +<p>"Boy, this'll be like playing with a speedboat in a bathtub!" Tom +thought with a chuckle as he changed into swim trunks.</p> + +<p>He climbed into the tank and slid the drive unit to one end of its +track. Then Tom metered out power slowly. With a gentle <i>whoosh</i>, the +ion-drive unit whizzed along the unitrack to the other end of the tank.</p> + +<p>"Not bad," Tom muttered, a pleased grin on his face. "Now I'll rev it up +a little."</p> + +<p>He slid the drive unit back to starting position, then opened the switch +wider. He had just started across the tank himself when suddenly he +became powerless to move.</p> + +<p>Tom was pinned helplessly against the wall of the tank by the powerful +water-jet exhaust! And the control switch was beyond his reach!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><b>CHAPTER VII</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>PORPOISE TAG</b></p> + + +<p>"Good grief! I'm trapped!" Tom squirmed desperately in a vain attempt to +free himself.</p> + +<p>The ion-drive unit had hurtled to the far end of the tank at the first +flick of power. But its exhaust tube was still jetting out a current of +water with stunning force. Tom could feel the near-crushing pressure +against his chest, even the full length of the tank away!</p> + +<p>"H-h-help!" Tom gasped.</p> + +<p>Moments dragged by with agonizing slowness. Tom felt as if his last +ounce of breath were being squeezed out by the viselike pressure.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a gravelly Western voice reached him, singing "Home on the +Range." It drew closer, swelling into a foghorn drone as the lab door +swung open.</p> + +<p>"Good old Chow!" Tom thought. "Thank heavens!"</p> + +<p>The grizzled, bowlegged cook ambled cheerfully into the laboratory, +pushing a lunch cart. But, to Tom's dismay, he cast only a passing +glance at the figure in the tank.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus005.jpg" alt="free" /> +</p> + + +<p>"Soup's on, son!" Chow announced loudly. He began to ladle out a bowl of +oyster stew from a steaming pot. Evidently he had not realized the young +inventor's dilemma!</p> + +<p>"Extra good today too, if I do say so myself!" the old Texan went on, +setting out the rest of the lunch. "Well, come on, buckaroo! Break away +from them chores an' dive in! Brand my cactus salad, if there's one +thing that riles a cook—"</p> + +<p>Summoning all his strength, Tom croaked out weakly, "Chow!... Get help!"</p> + +<p>At the strange sound of Tom's voice, Chow jerked around. His eyes bugged +out at the look on the young inventor's face. Then he dashed to the +public-address outlet on the wall and switched on the mike.</p> + +<p>"Help! Help!" Chow yelled. "Tom Jr.'s trapped in his lab!"</p> + +<p>The roly-poly chef was quivering in panic. He dashed across the room and +paced helplessly about the tank. Within moments, excited men were +crowding into the laboratory.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift, among the first to arrive, took in the situation at a glance. +He dashed to the control board and slammed shut the main switch, thus +cutting off power to the ion-drive jet.</p> + +<p>"Whew! Th-thanks, Dad!" Tom's chest was heaving as he gulped in air to +relieve his tortured lungs.</p> + +<p>Tom Sr. helped him climb out of the tank.</p> + +<p>"B-b-brand my rhubarb rockets," Chow stuttered. "What in tarnation +happened?"</p> + +<p>"Guess I gunned my new skin-diving jet a bit too hard," Tom said +sheepishly. "It was almost a K.O. for me!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift asked Tom about the invention. After explaining how it worked, +Tom added with a grin, "Maybe you'd better hang around, Dad, until I +install some sort of density-control gadget for my hydrolung. Then I can +go up or down, or stay at any level easily."</p> + +<p>Such a device, Tom felt, might prove to be a lifesaver if he should ever +become trapped under water—perhaps far from help.</p> + +<p>The elder scientist chuckled and threw an arm around Tom's shoulders. +"I'd say you could design something like that with your eyes shut, son!"</p> + +<p>Warmed by his father's appreciation, Tom set to work improving his +diving apparatus.</p> + +<p>An hour later Bud came bursting into the laboratory. "Hey! What's this I +hear about your getting hammerlocked by a water jet?" the husky young +pilot asked. He had been on a test flight and just returned.</p> + +<p>Tom laughed good-naturedly. "Nothing serious. In fact, I felt pretty +silly," he told his chum. "I souped up our ion-drive gizmo a bit too +much."</p> + +<p>Bud picked up the slender metal cylindrical assembly from the workbench. +"This it?" he asked, his curiosity immediately aroused.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded and demonstrated the device in the test tank.</p> + +<p>Bud whistled with glee. "Boy! With this rig, we can scoot around like a +pair of barracudas!" he exclaimed. "What about that other thing you're +working on?" Bud pointed to a small electronic chassis on the workbench, +studded with a tangle of transistors, diodes, and condensers.</p> + +<p>"It's a density-control device," Tom explained. "A substitute for +ballast tanks, you might say. It'll enable us to rise or sink to any +depth at will, simply by varying our underwater density."</p> + +<p>Tom said the device would be carried in a small case, hooked to the +diver's belt, with a single tuning-knob control. The "throttle" or speed +control for the ion drive would be housed in the same unit.</p> + +<p>"I can't wait to try out the new diving gear," Bud said excitedly.</p> + +<p>By four o'clock Tom had the apparatus perfected, and turned it over to +Arv Hanson for fast duplication.</p> + +<p>"We'll give it a shakedown tomorrow morning," he told Bud.</p> + +<p>The duplicates of the ion drive and density control were ready and +waiting when the boys arrived at the plant next day. They immediately +flew to Fearing Island and embarked in a motor launch, with Zimby Cox +again at the helm.</p> + +<p>This time they cruised out to deeper water. Tom and Bud donned flippers +and belt, and helped each other strap on his ion-drive jet.</p> + +<p>"<i>Down</i> we go, into the wilds of sharks!" Bud chortled lustily. "Watch +your step, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Just make sure you come up again in one piece," Zimby said with a grin. +"Also, don't get carried away with that ion squirt gun and take off on a +round-the-world underwater cruise."</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" Tom joked. Adjusting his face mask, he plunged over the +side. Bud followed.</p> + +<p>Down they glided into the sea-green wilderness. Leveling off in sight of +the ocean floor, they tried their drive jets. The effect was thrilling! +<i>Zip ... Whoosh!</i> They darted to and fro like human torpedoes.</p> + +<p>Then Tom twirled the control knob of his density unit. Immediately he +bobbed upward like a cork. A reverse twirl sent him plummeting toward +the bottom again. Bud, watching with wide-eyed excitement, began +experimenting on his own.</p> + +<p>Soon the boys were engaging in all sorts of underwater acrobatics. +Presently Bud felt a nudge in the back that sent him hurtling a dozen +yards through the water.</p> + +<p>"Snuck up on me, eh, pal?" he thought with a chuckle. "Okay, Tom old +boy, here's where the undersea terror strikes back!"</p> + +<p>Swooping around to return the compliment, Bud gulped in surprise. +Instead of his chum, he found himself face to face with a bottle-nosed +dolphin!</p> + +<p>"Good night!" Bud thought. "A porpoise! So you're the joker who nudged +me!"</p> + +<p>With a playful toss of its comical-looking snout, the porpoise swam off, +as if inviting Bud to join in the fun and games. A whole school of the +creatures cavorted into view.</p> + +<p>"Okay! If you want to play!" Chuckling, Bud darted in pursuit, whacked +the porpoise that had nudged him, and jetted off again. The porpoise +gave chase, whistling and grunting audibly.</p> + +<p>Tom joined in the fun, and soon a rollicking game of underwater tag was +in full swing. The dolphins seemed as playful and mischievous as small +children.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later the boys surfaced and hauled themselves aboard. +Both tore off their masks and flopped into the boat, shaking with +laughter, surfacing and diving.</p> + +<p>"What was so funny down there?" Zimby asked.</p> + +<p>When Tom told him about the dolphins, he too burst into laughter. The +porpoises rose into view and convoyed the launch all the way back to the +island.</p> + +<p>The boys were so jubilant over the performance of the new hydrolung gear +that Tom decided to press his search for the Brungarian sea-prowlers +immediately. Soon after lunch they took off in the <i>Sea Hound</i> and +headed for the South Atlantic. Hank Sterling, Chow Winkler, and two +crewmen accompanied the boys.</p> + +<p>Dazzling afternoon sunshine sparkled over the sea when they reached the +missile search area. Tom immediately contacted Art Wiltessa and the +task-force ships. They had no new developments to report.</p> + +<p>The young inventor gave orders to submerge. As soon as the seacopter +touched bottom, Tom and Bud swam out through the air lock with their +hydrolungs.</p> + +<p>They probed about for half an hour, ranging farther and farther from the +<i>Sea Hound</i>. Then Tom felt a touch on his arm. He turned and saw Bud +pointing off excitedly to the right.</p> + +<p>A strange submarine was moving slowly toward them!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>DATE TROUBLE</b></p> + + + +<p>The boys exchanged looks of fear through their face masks as the +knifelike hull and conning tower of the submarine loomed gray and +ghostly.</p> + +<p>Was the sub Brungarian? And what was it up to? Were the two young skin +divers about to be run down or kidnaped?</p> + +<p><i>Or was its crew friendly?</i></p> + +<p>"Better not chance it," Tom decided fast. He caught Bud's eye again and +motioned upward with a jerk of his thumb. "Topside, pal!"</p> + +<p>"Roger!" Bud's lips shaped the word silently behind his face mask.</p> + +<p>In a twinkling both boys flicked their density controls and zoomed +upward. The sub at once seemed to betray a hostile intent. It blew its +tanks and planed upward in pursuit. But Tom and Bud easily pulled away. +Their density units worked like magic, shooting them straight toward +the surface.</p> + +<p>"Wow!" Bud shoved back his face mask as they broke water. "That baby was +after us and no mistake!"</p> + +<p>Tom nodded, treading water. "Let's not stick around here, either! We'll +soon have company again if we do!"</p> + +<p>Bud did not argue. "Where to, skipper?"</p> + +<p>In the fresh salt air, with the sunshine sparkling on the waves, it was +hard to believe that an enemy submarine was hot on their trail. But both +youths realized their peril was growing by the moment.</p> + +<p>"Back toward the <i>Sea Hound</i>," Tom said, pointing north-northwest. +"Submerge as we go!"</p> + +<p>Bud circled his thumb and forefinger, then adjusted his mask, and the +two boys plunged back in. On a sloping downward course, they sped along +like undersea rockets, their ion jets functioning perfectly. Minutes +later, they sighted the seacopter.</p> + +<p>Hank waved to them through the cabin window as they glided past. The air +lock opened speedily and the two boys entered. Both heaved sighs of +relief when they were safely inside.</p> + +<p>"Somethin' wrong?" Chow asked, sniffing trouble.</p> + +<p>"A strange submarine," Tom reported. "Brungarian more than likely. It +may be heading this way if they've tracked us."</p> + +<p>"A sub?" Hank was startled. "We've picked up nothing on sonar!"</p> + +<p>"Check again," Tom ordered.</p> + +<p>The sonarman bent to his scope and Hank listened intently over the +hydrophones. Neither could detect any sign of another craft.</p> + +<p>"Probably the same one that fired on us the last time," Tom said grimly. +"We'd better clear out before they take another pot shot at us."</p> + +<p>Hank sent the <i>Sea Hound</i> zooming toward the surface while the boys +changed quickly into slacks and T shirts. Then Tom took over the +controls for the flight home.</p> + +<p>"Brand my vitamin vittles! Are we just goin' to turn tail an' run every +time them varmints come skulkin' around?" Chow fumed as the seacopter +arrowed northward.</p> + +<p>"Not if I can help it," Tom vowed. "But first I must figure out a way to +make our own craft invisible, so to speak. It's the only way to protect +our American crews, Chow, if we hope to do any secret digging for that +lost missile."</p> + +<p>"Want another suggestion, skipper?" Bud put in. "This one is about the +hydrolung."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Speak up."</p> + +<p>"How about putting some sort of communications system into our hydrolung +gear? If I hadn't been close enough to grab you when I spotted that +sub, it might have been curtains, pal!"</p> + +<p>"You're right," Tom agreed. "I'll get to work on it."</p> + +<p>It was sunset when Fearing Island came into sight. The boys flew a +Pigeon Special back to Enterprises, where Tom phoned a full report on +the mystery sub to the Navy Department. Then the two chums drove to the +Swift home for a late supper.</p> + +<p>Phyl Newton was visiting Sandy that evening, but the girls displayed a +marked coolness toward Tom and Bud. Instead of engaging in conversation, +they retired to Sandy's room upstairs to play records, while Mrs. Swift +served the boys a warmed-up but tasty meal of roast beef and mince pie.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong? Are we repulsive or something?" Bud asked as they ate.</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged, concentrating on a mouthful of roast beef. "Search me. We +sure don't seem very popular with the girls tonight."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swift, overhearing their remarks in the kitchen, smiled but +maintained a diplomatic silence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Bud slapped his forehead. "Good night! No wonder!"</p> + +<p>Tom looked up with a grin of interest. "Well, what have we done?"</p> + +<p>"It's what we <i>haven't</i> done, pal!" Bud retorted. "We had a date this +afternoon, remember? That beach party and dance put on by Sandy and +Phyl's school sorority!"</p> + +<p>Tom gulped. "Oops! Boy, we really did pull a boner this time! I +completely forgot!"</p> + +<p>As they finished supper, the boys discussed various ways to make amends. +Boxes of chocolates? Flowers? None of their ideas seemed to have the +proper spark.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to come up with something super," Bud said.</p> + +<p>"Right!" Tom agreed. "Let's sleep on it and see if we can't dream up +something by tomorrow morning that'll really wow them."</p> + +<p>The next morning Tom had a flash of inspiration as he drove to the plant +in his sports car. He hailed Bud at the first opportunity.</p> + +<p>"I have it, pal! What say we stage an old-fashioned square dance Tuesday +night at the yacht club on Lake Carlopa?"</p> + +<p>Bud's eyes lighted up. "Hey, that's a great idea! We'll invite a whole +gang, get Chow to handle the refreshments, and make it a real shindig!"</p> + +<p>The boys shook hands enthusiastically. Eager to patch matters up as soon +as possible, they invited Sandy and Phyl out to lunch that day. Over +dessert, the boys announced their plans for a square dance.</p> + +<p>"We—uh—realize we goofed yesterday on that beach party," Tom said +sheepishly. "But we're hoping you'll give us another chance."</p> + +<p>The girls looked at each other, their eyes twinkling, then burst into +giggles.</p> + +<p>"You're forgiven completely!" Phyl declared.</p> + +<p>"Then it's a date?" Bud put in.</p> + +<p>"You bet it's a date, and don't you forget it!" Sandy warned. "Phyl and +I are going right over to Dorman's Department Store and pick out some +cute outfits for the dance!"</p> + +<p>Tom and Bud chuckled over the success of their scheme as they drove back +to Enterprises. Later that afternoon a telephone call interrupted Tom as +he worked in his lab on a sonic-communications system for the hydrolung +apparatus.</p> + +<p>"This is Lester Morris," said the voice at the other end of the line. +The name did not register with Tom at first until his caller added, "I +hear you're planning a square dance Tuesday night at the yacht club."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tom remembered. Lester Morris was a popular dance orchestra +leader in and around Shopton. He was also much in demand as a +square-dance caller and fiddler.</p> + +<p>"That's right," Tom said with a chuckle. "News must travel fast. We just +phoned invitations to our friends."</p> + +<p>Morris asked if musicians had been hired for the evening. When Tom said +No, his caller volunteered for the job, offering to provide a small +combo of country-style players. His asking price sounded like a bargain +rate, and Tom, knowing Morris's reputation, was only too glad to engage +him.</p> + +<p>"Lucky break, his calling," the young inventor thought as he hung up.</p> + +<p>Bud was delighted to hear of the arrangement when he came into the +laboratory a while later. The boys talked over their dance plans for a +few moments, then Bud asked:</p> + +<p>"How's our underwater talkie system coming?"</p> + +<p>Tom scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "A bit tricky but not too +difficult," he replied. "It's mostly a job of adapting the sonarphone +arrangement from our Fat Man suits—in miniature."</p> + +<p>A tiny mike, Tom explained, would be installed on the inside of each +face mask, with its output feeding to a sonar transducer on the +exterior. The receiving transducers would feed from amplifiers to +earphones. The hookup would be powered by the solar battery in the +hydrolung power unit, by connecting wires through the breathing tube.</p> + +<p>"That's neat, Tom," Bud said. "Need any help?"</p> + +<p>"You can mold us a pair of new face masks—big enough to cover the +earphones," Tom suggested. He handed Bud a penciled sketch from the +workbench, adding, "Then drill the holes for the mikes and +earphones—the dimensions are there on the drawing. But watch it so +you don't crack the plastic."</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus006.jpg" alt="panic" /> +</p> + + +<p>While Bud complied, Tom began assembling the tiny electronic parts. In +two hours the gear was ready for testing.</p> + +<p>Tom wiped his perspiring forehead and gave Bud a grin of satisfaction. +"Go get your swim trunks, fly boy. Let's give it a tryout in the tank."</p> + +<p>"Swell idea! Be back in a jiff!"</p> + +<p>After a quick change, the boys strapped on the new hydrolung equipment. +Before adjusting his face mask, Tom mentioned that he had inserted +scrambling circuits into the communicators to foil any enemy +eavesdroppers.</p> + +<p>"If they do pick up anything, it'll sound like chop suey," Tom ended +with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>The boys submerged in the test tank and proceeded to give the new +underwater communication system a thorough check-out. It worked +perfectly. Ten minutes later Tom and Bud clambered out again, dripping +wet but well satisfied.</p> + +<p>They had just peeled off their masks when Chow came charging into the +lab, with a crowd of workmen and technicians at his heels. The cook was +wild-eyed with panic.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Chow?" Tom asked in alarm.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><b>CHAPTER IX</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>A MAGNETIC KIDNAPING</b></p> + + + +<p>"The space people or some enemy's invadin' us!" Chow shouted. "Take a +squint through your telescope, boss! Brand my bazooka, they may be +landin' any second!"</p> + +<p>More people came streaming in, attracted by the chef's cries and +gesticulations. Some were bewildered, a few frightened. Others were +laughing, thinking the whole thing a joke. The scene was rapidly taking +on the proportions of a riot!</p> + +<p>"Whoa! Slow down, Chow!" Tom ordered, trying to make himself heard above +the din.</p> + +<p>"It—it's the truth, boss!" Chow stammered, mopping his brow with a huge +red bandanna. "Why, sufferin' rattlesnakes, didn't I hear 'em spoutin' +their space lingo with my own ears?"</p> + +<p>"You heard <i>what</i>?" Bud said.</p> + +<p>"Spoutin' space talk!" the cook repeated. "It come right over the +loud-speaker in the galley! They was chitter-chatterin' plottin' to blow +us all to smithereens!"</p> + +<p>"That's a fact! We heard it, too!" one of the workmen chimed in.</p> + +<p>Tom and Bud looked at each other blankly. Then suddenly Tom's eyes +kindled with a dawning suspicion. Whirling around, he rushed over to +inspect the public-address outlet on the wall.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Swift had just driven in through the main gate of +Enterprises. "What's going on?" he asked the guard at the gate, noting +the excited hubbub around Tom's laboratory.</p> + +<p>"Don't rightly know, sir," the guard replied. "I was wondering myself. I +know it sounds crazy, but I thought I heard someone yelling there was +going to be a space attack."</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift's eyebrows lifted in amazement. Without further discussion, he +stepped on the accelerator and sped off along the paved drive. Seconds +later, his car braked to a stop near Tom Jr.'s private laboratory. The +scientist jumped out and made his way through the milling crowd.</p> + +<p>"What's going on?" Mr. Swift stared in astonishment at Tom and Bud, who +were both doubled up with laughter.</p> + +<p>"A scrambled radio alert, Dad," Tom gasped between chuckles. "Chow +thought some Martian monsters were invading us, and sort of pushed the +panic button."</p> + +<p>The Texan blushed as Tom explained what had happened. Realizing Chow's +embarrassment, Tom tried to make his mistake sound understandable.</p> + +<p>Apparently the power line to the ion-drive control board had somehow +picked up the boys' scrambled conversation underwater. The signal had +been transferred by inductance in the wall wiring and amplified over the +public-address system.</p> + +<p>"Our wall mike was on," Tom added, "and it probably picked up some of +the sound waves from the tank. Anyhow," he concluded, slapping the cook +affectionately on the back, "I'm sure glad we have a wide-awake hombre +like Chow in the outfit. It wouldn't be the first time he's saved our +necks!"</p> + +<p>Chow perked up, and the employees, reassured, returned to their jobs.</p> + +<p>"I have some news of my own," Mr. Swift announced with a smile as the +room cleared. "But I'm afraid it'll sound pretty tame compared to a +space attack."</p> + +<p>"Let's hear it, Dad," Tom said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I've been conducting some experiments with those space plants," the +elder scientist said. "It looks as though they may prove to be a +valuable nutritional source."</p> + +<p>The plants, Mr. Swift went on, showed promise of producing enormous +amounts of protein quickly and cheaply—enough to increase the world's +food supply by a sizable margin. Moreover, he had isolated a vitamin in +this protein not found in any of man's present foods.</p> + +<p>"Doc Simpson has been working with me," Mr. Swift concluded. "He has +been doing some experiments of his own with a vitamin extract from the +space plants. He thinks it may prove highly beneficial to human beings."</p> + +<p>Tom was thrilled, and even Bud realized that Mr. Swift's cautious report +could well turn out to be of history-making importance.</p> + +<p>"I'd say your news makes a phony space attack look pretty tame, Dad," +Tom said, his eyes flashing enthusiastically. "With the earth's +population increasing, this could be the answer to the food problem."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell Chow," Bud added, "or we may find spaceburgers on the next +menu!"</p> + +<p>The Swifts chuckled. Chow's hobby of concocting weird dishes was a +standing joke at Enterprises, and already had led to such dubious +triumphs as armadillo stew and rattlesnake soup.</p> + +<p>Monday morning Tom buckled down seriously to the job of designing an +undetectable sub. His drawing board was littered with sketches and +diagrams when the phone rang, breaking in on his thoughts. Tom answered +it with a scowl of impatience. The caller was Lester Morris.</p> + +<p>"Could you meet me at the yacht club to talk over the dance program?" +Morris asked.</p> + +<p>Tom hesitated. For Sandy's and Phyl's sakes he was eager to do +everything possible to make the square dance a success. But on the other +hand....</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty busy today," Tom said. "But my sister and my friend Bud +Barclay can tell you what we want—probably better than I can. Suppose I +ask them to meet you there after lunch?"</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause. "Very well," Morris agreed, although he +sounded a bit annoyed.</p> + +<p>After hanging up, Tom phoned Bud and asked him to keep the appointment. +Bud was only too happy to oblige, jumping at the chance to take Sandy +out to lunch beforehand.</p> + +<p>At one o'clock the husky young pilot and his date strolled into the +yacht club lounge. Lester Morris was nowhere in sight, so they sat down +to wait. Twenty minutes later the musician still had not appeared.</p> + +<p>"I hope he hasn't forgotten," Sandy said, glancing at her wrist watch.</p> + +<p>"If he's a square-dance caller, his memory ought to be extra good," Bud +joked. "Fine thing if he can't even remember the time of day!"</p> + +<p>After waiting a while longer, Bud decided to telephone Morris's home. +But at that moment a thin, seedy-looking man came into the lounge. His +close-set eyes and loudly striped suit combined to give him a somewhat +disreputable appearance.</p> + +<p>"Good grief! Len Unger!" Sandy whispered. "What does he want with us?"</p> + +<p>Unger was walking straight toward them. Both Bud and Sandy had met him +occasionally around town and found him obnoxious.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, but Morris got tied up," Unger informed them. "He sent me to +talk to you."</p> + +<p>Sandy's blue eyes met Bud's in a flicker of distaste, but she tried to +conceal her feelings. "Please sit down," she invited Unger politely. +"What square-dance numbers does Mr. Morris do?"</p> + +<p>Len Unger shrugged. "You name 'em."</p> + +<p>"But, my goodness," Sandy said, puzzled, "how do we know he'll have the +squares I name?"</p> + +<p>Unger stared at her as if he did not quite understand. "You mean, can he +call off the dances you want? If he can't, I'll let you know."</p> + +<p>"Does he do patter calls or singing calls?" Bud put in.</p> + +<p>Again Unger hesitated, then said, "Both."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful!" Sandy exclaimed gleefully. "I thought he only did singing +calls." After a moment's thought, she went on, "Well, let's see. What +about 'Birdie in the Cage'?... And 'The Gal from Arkansas' ... 'Uptown +and Downtown'...."</p> + +<p>Unger jotted the names on the back of an envelope. Pausing a moment, he +remarked, "Guess your brother was too busy to make it today, eh, Miss +Swift? What kind of ex-spearmints is he working on now?"</p> + +<p>"I really couldn't say," Sandy replied coldly. She always made it a +point not to discuss Tom Jr.'s or her father's research work with +outsiders.</p> + +<p>Unger persisted chattily, "I read where he handled that Jupiter probe +shoot for the Navy."</p> + +<p>"Let's get back to square dancing," snapped Bud. As he and Sandy +finished planning the program, Len Unger continued to drop remarks and +questions about "The Great Tom Swift" and his inventions. All prying +queries were side-stepped.</p> + +<p>As soon as possible Sandy and Bud cut short the conversation and left +the yacht club. Unger's face wore an angry sneer as they walked out.</p> + +<p>"What a creep!" Bud said, when he and Sandy were driving back in his red +convertible.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in his private laboratory at Enterprises, Tom was somewhat +discouraged. He had tried several different experimental attacks on the +problem of an undetectable submarine. None had worked out successfully.</p> + +<p>"I thought that idea of a sonar-wave baffle might lead somewhere," he +murmured, "but it looks as though I'm wrong."</p> + +<p>Flopping down on a stool at his workbench, Tom cupped his chin in his +hands. He was frowning, deep in thought, as the pudgy figure of Chow +Winkler came into the laboratory.</p> + +<p>"'Smatter, boss?" the cook inquired cheerfully. "Ain't your ole think +box workin' today?"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't seem to be," Tom confessed.</p> + +<p>"Give it time, son. Tomorrow's another day," Chow said philosophically. +"What you need is a haircut for the square dance."</p> + +<p>Tom laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe you're right, Chow. Might help +me think better."</p> + +<p>Tom got off the stool and stretched out the kinks in his legs. He +strolled outside with Chow, then scootered to the parking lot and hopped +into his sleek, silver sports car.</p> + +<p>A moment later he was whizzing off in the direction of Shopton. Nearing +town, Tom turned off on a side-road short cut. He noticed in his mirror +that a truck behind him also turned off.</p> + +<p>"Really barreling along!" Tom thought. "If you're in such a hurry, the +road's yours, pal."</p> + +<p>He pulled over sharply, motioning the truck to pass. Instead, to Tom's +surprise, it closed in straight behind him. The next moment, Tom saw a +port open below the truck's hood and a strange-looking device pop out on +a springlike steel cable.</p> + +<p>It clamped magnetically to Tom's rear bumper! His car was caught like a +fish on a line!</p> + +<p>Tom stepped on the accelerator, trying to pull free. The truck at once +swerved off the road, steering around a utility pole. As the cable +tautened, there was a sickening screech of metal and the sports car was +brought to a crashing halt!</p> + +<p>Tom's head slammed against the side window. With a groan, the young +inventor blacked out.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><b>CHAPTER X</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>TELEPHONE CODE</b></p> + + +<p>As he regained consciousness, Tom's eyes fluttered open. Sparks of pain +shot through his head. A groan escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>"Oo-o! What hit me?" Tom wondered.</p> + +<p>He was lying on a sofa in a strange room. Someone was seated nearby, +watching him. Tom tried to move his limbs and sit up. Then he discovered +that his wrists and ankles were tied with sash cord.</p> + +<p>"Better lie still, sonny boy," a gruff voice advised. "You ain't goin' +nowhere."</p> + +<p>The man who had spoken got up from his chair and came over to the sofa. +He was of medium height, very muscular looking, with cold, glittering +eyes. Rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed his powerful, hairy arms.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" Tom asked, suddenly remembering the events on the road +before he blacked out. "And what's this all about?"</p> + +<p>The man said with a mirthless grin, "You're a prisoner. And you're goin' +to stay here until the cops let Dimitri Mirov go. It's up to you how +fast they spring him."</p> + +<p>The huge man lifted a telephone from an end table adjoining the sofa and +set it on the floor alongside Tom.</p> + +<p>"Here's a phone. Go ahead and use it, but don't try any funny stuff."</p> + +<p>In spite of his headache, Tom's brain was racing. What to do now? He +shut his eyes and screwed up his face in an expression of pain, +pretending to be still groggy while he stalled for time to figure out +his next move.</p> + +<p>"How can <i>I</i> get Mirov out of jail?" Tom faltered.</p> + +<p>"You figure it out!" the man snarled. "And you'd better get results if +you want to stay healthy!"</p> + +<p>Through half-slitted eyes, Tom noted the telephone number printed on the +dial. Evidently his captor had not thought to remove it from the +instrument. A lucky break!</p> + +<p>If only, Tom thought, he could devise some way to transmit the number to +Ames without arousing his captor's suspicion—the phone's location could +then be traced!</p> + +<p>What about some sort of double-talk code? For instance, Tom told +himself, keep slipping numbers into the conversation in order to +transmit the digits of the telephone number. Would Ames catch on?</p> + +<p>The number shown was BArwick 3-7156. BA on the dial would be the same as +"2, 2."</p> + +<p>"Come on! Quit stalling!" the man said threateningly.</p> + +<p>"How can I dial with my hands tied?" Tom objected.</p> + +<p>"I'll do the dialing, wise guy!"</p> + +<p>He lifted the phone from its cradle and extended it to his prisoner. Tom +told him the Enterprises number, then asked for Ames's extension as the +switchboard operator answered. A moment later the security chief's voice +came over the line.</p> + +<p>"Ames speaking."</p> + +<p>"This is Tom Jr., Harlan." His captor bent close to the receiver as Tom +replied, in order to overhear what was being said. "I've been thinking," +the young inventor went on, "that it might be smart to have Mirov +released."</p> + +<p>"<i>Released!</i>" Ames gasped in surprise. "But why, skipper?"</p> + +<p>"Well ... er ... as a good-will gesture," Tom said. "I think it might +prevent future trouble with the Brungarians, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I do not!" Ames exploded. "The idea sounds crazy!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it's <i>too</i> crazy or <i>too</i> risky," Tom argued. By +emphasizing the words, he hoped to impress them on Ames's mind.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus007.jpg" alt="stalling" /> +</p> + + +<p>Tom's tone of voice and the farfetched nature of what he was saying had +already triggered the security chief's suspicions. "Where are you +calling from?" Ames asked after a tense pause.</p> + +<p>"Shopton," Tom replied. "I just drove in for a haircut." With a chuckle, +he added, "Haven't had one in <i>three</i> months. That's a whole <i>week</i> +longer than I usually go!"</p> + +<p>Would Ames understand that by "week" he meant <i>seven</i> days?... "<i>It's +the best I can do</i>," Tom thought.</p> + +<p>"Look, skipper, are you sure you want Mirov let out?" Ames said slowly. +"I still think it's unwise."</p> + +<p>"Consider it an order!" Tom snapped. "This is <i>one</i> thing I insist upon, +Harlan. Shouldn't take more than <i>five</i> or <i>six</i> hours, should it, even +if he has to wire the Brungarian Embassy to put up bail?"</p> + +<p>"It can probably be handled faster than that—if he has any friends +around town," Ames said.</p> + +<p>Tom took the cue. "Could be," he replied meaningfully.</p> + +<p>Tom's captor snatched the phone away and slammed it back on the hook. +"All right, smart boy! That's enough!" he growled, glaring at Tom.</p> + +<p>Back at Enterprises, Ames hung up thoughtfully. Tom's reply to his last +question about Mirov having "friends around town" had convinced Ames +that the young inventor was a prisoner, speaking under duress. Moreover, +it had seemed as if someone else's breathing was faintly audible in the +background, close to the phone.</p> + +<p><i>But what message had Tom tried to convey?</i></p> + +<p>As a routine security-department precaution, Ames's phone was connected +to a recorder which automatically taped all calls. Now, while he +pondered the problem, Ames pressed a foot-treadle switch to play back +the conversation.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Tom and his captor waited tensely. From time to time the +latter glanced at his watch. "Better hope that call does the trick, +Swift," he muttered. "It's the only hope you got of leavin' here alive!"</p> + +<p>"How will you know if they've turned Mirov loose?" Tom asked. He was +wondering if he might persuade his captor to let him make a second call.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. Mirov knows how to contact me."</p> + +<p>Half an hour dragged by—then forty minutes. Suddenly the door buzzer +rang sharply. The man jerked to attention, obviously startled. He +glanced at Tom, then toward the direction of the sound, moistening his +lips nervously.</p> + +<p>"He must have been expecting just a phone call," Tom decided.</p> + +<p>The buzzer shrilled again. This time the man got up from his chair, +gagged Tom hastily with a handkerchief, and went to the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he asked loudly.</p> + +<p>"Mirov! Let me in, Duffy!" replied an accented voice from outside.</p> + +<p>With a look of relief, Duffy started to open the door—then froze as he +saw not only Mirov, but two police officers and Ames accompanying him.</p> + +<p>"Are you the one who's going to put up bail?" one of the officers +demanded.</p> + +<p>Duffy floundered, scenting danger but unable to pick up any clue from +Mirov's face. "Why—uh—yeah, maybe. How much is it?"</p> + +<p>"Ten million! Can you raise it?" Ames snapped sarcastically.</p> + +<p>As Duffy gaped in confusion, the officers suddenly flung their weight +forward. The door flew open and Duffy was thrown back, almost losing his +balance. Beyond, through the small vestibule, Ames caught a glimpse of +Tom on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"There he is!" Ames shouted.</p> + +<p>Moments later, Tom was untied. Mirov and Duffy were handcuffed together.</p> + +<p>The young inventor shook hands joyfully with his rescuers. "Nice going, +Harlan! Boy, I was sweating icicles here, wondering if you'd be able to +decipher all my double talk!"</p> + +<p>"You made the numbers clear enough," the security chief said with a +grin, "but it took a while to guess what they stood for. And then, of +course, we had to trace the address through the telephone company."</p> + +<p>Eying the ugly bruise on Tom's forehead, Ames added, "Sure you're all +right?"</p> + +<p>"Right now I feel swell!" Tom declared, chuckling. He told of his +kidnaping, while one of the officers took down the details.</p> + +<p>The prisoners were taken off to jail in the police squad car. Tom and +Ames, meanwhile, in the security chief's high-powered sedan, drove to +the scene of Tom's capture.</p> + +<p>They found his sports car badly damaged. The right side was wedged +against the utility pole, which was leaning at a crazy angle.</p> + +<p>Ames whistled and shook his head. "Boy! You're lucky you got off with +just a bruise, Tom!"</p> + +<p>"You're telling me," the young inventor agreed ruefully.</p> + +<p>After calling a repair garage to send out a wrecker, they drove to the +Swifts' home. Mrs. Swift and Sandy, previously unaware of Tom's plight, +were horrified to hear what had happened. The sight of Tom's bruise also +upset them.</p> + +<p>Tom did his best to allay their concern, but finally allowed himself to +be hustled up to bed. Dr. Emerson, the Swifts' family physician, was +immediately summoned to the house. He pronounced the bruise not serious, +but advised that Tom remain quiet, at least for the rest of the day.</p> + +<p>Bud came to visit the young inventor that evening, just as Sandy was +bringing up a tray. On it was a sizzling T-bone steak.</p> + +<p>"Wow! Wish I could have that kind of service," Bud said jokingly. Then +he became serious. "I'd sure like to meet that creep who snagged you, +Tom. What a fiendish trick! You realize you might have been killed?"</p> + +<p>"I realize it, all right," Tom said wryly.</p> + +<p>The next morning Tom felt no ill effects from his grim adventure and +insisted upon driving to Enterprises. He phoned Admiral Walter, whose +report was bleak—the searchers had still gleaned no trace of the buried +missile.</p> + +<p>Refusing to be discouraged by the news, or lack of news, Tom went to his +private laboratory and applied himself once again to the problem of +building an "invisible" submarine. But again success eluded him.</p> + +<p>At last Tom shook his head in disgust. "May as well get that haircut I +started out for yesterday," he decided.</p> + +<p>Before leaving, Tom phoned Phyl Newton to thank her for the gift of +fruit and nuts she had brought over the previous evening after learning +of his dangerous experience. They chatted for a while and wound up by +making a date for lunch.</p> + +<p>Tom drove back to town in the family car and got a haircut. Then he +picked up Phyl at her home and took her to the yacht club. Here they +lunched on the terrace overlooking the sparkling blue waters of Lake +Carlopa.</p> + +<p>The young inventor's spirits were high when he finally returned to his +laboratory and buckled down to work.</p> + +<p>"I'll lick this problem yet," he muttered. "Those enemies of ours are +clever, but if they can produce an undetectable sub, there's no reason +why I can't do the same."</p> + +<p>Deep in thought, Tom idly fingered a microphone on his workbench.</p> + +<p>"In fact," the young inventor mused, "why not go them one better? I'll +invent a submarine that's not only invisible to sonar, but equipped to +<i>see them</i>!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><b>CHAPTER XI</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>SQUARE-DANCE HOAX</b></p> + + + +<p>Random hunches and circuit diagrams flashed through Tom's brain. "The +job will boil down to blotting out sonar waves and piercing the enemy's +own 'wave-trap defense,'" the young scientist concluded.</p> + +<p>As Tom struggled with the problem, he lost all track of time. A door +swung open and high-heeled boots clumped on the floor tiles. Tom looked +up and saw the portly, aproned figure of Chow Winkler entering.</p> + +<p>"Hi, boss! Can I borrow a radio?" Chow asked. "Kinda like a lil music +while I wrassle them pots an' pans in the galley."</p> + +<p>"Sure, pardner." Tom pointed toward a portable radio on a shelf nearby.</p> + +<p>Chow's leathery face broke into a grin as he picked it up. "One o' them +slick lil transistor doodads, eh?"</p> + +<p>The cook flicked on the dial knob and the twangy strains of Hawaiian +guitar music came throbbing out. A split second later the volume swelled +as the same music echoed back to them from the two-room apartment +adjoining the lab, where Tom ate and slept when engaged in some +round-the-clock experiment.</p> + +<p>Chow was startled by the blare. "You got a stereo hookup here, boss?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly." Tom explained that the music had merely been picked up by +the mike on his workbench, then fed into the adjoining apartment and +amplified over a speaker there.</p> + +<p>Chow grinned, snapping his fingers to the catchy melody. "Comes out even +louder'n it does from the radio!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the sound quality's not so good," Tom said. "You'd notice the +difference with real stereo."</p> + +<p>Chow walked out with the portable, crooning contentedly to the music.</p> + +<p>Tom frowned, trying to get his train of thought to focus once more on +the submarine problem. But for some reason the business with the +microphone and the speaker in the next room kept lingering in his mind.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tom exclaimed aloud, "Say! I wonder if that's how the enemy sub +blinds our sonar?"</p> + +<p>The idea certainly seemed feasible. Suppose the submarine used a great +many "microphones"—or receiving transducers—to pick up the sonar +pulses beamed out by another craft trying to detect it? These impulses +could then be passed on and sent out by speakers on the opposite side of +the sub, and relayed along on their underwater path of travel.</p> + +<p>Thus the sonar waves would appear to be striking no obstacle—and no +echo would return to the sonarscopes on the search craft!</p> + +<p>"Jumping jets!" Tom thumped his fist on the workbench in his excitement. +"I'll bet that's the answer, all right!" He grinned. "Brand my boot +heels, it's partly due to good old Chow!"</p> + +<p>He grabbed a pencil and began sketching his idea on paper. It would be +necessary to spot the receivers and transmitters all over the hull of +the submarine. Diagrams and pages of scribbled computations followed the +rough sketches.</p> + +<p>An invisible sub—one that sonar pulses would seem to pass right +through, as if nothing were there! "Seems so simple now that I have the +key!" Tom said to himself elatedly.</p> + +<p>Hours ticked by while he analyzed the wave action mathematically, then +worked out a typical hookup for one of his jetmarines in a set of +precise schematic drawings.</p> + +<p>Finally the young inventor dropped his pencil, picked up the telephone, +and dialed Bud Barclay.</p> + +<p>"Hop over here, fly boy," Tom told his chum. "Something hot on the +griddle!"</p> + +<p>Bud arrived in a few moments. Tom showed him the drawings and explained +his plan for dodging underwater detection. He also related how Chow's +remarks about the radio music had sparked the idea.</p> + +<p>His chum slapped him on the back. "Good going, Tom!"</p> + +<p>"Let's fly right over to Fearing and see how it works on a jetmarine!" +Tom proposed enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Bud grinned but made no move. He stood looking at Tom, arms folded and +feet wide apart.</p> + +<p>"Well, let's go, pal!" Tom urged impatiently, puzzled by Bud's lack of +response.</p> + +<p>"What about the square dance?"</p> + +<p>Tom stopped short, feeling like a punctured balloon. He stared in dismay +at his smiling, dark-haired copilot. "Good night! I forgot again!"</p> + +<p>With a sigh, Tom added, "You're right, of course. We sure can't let the +girls down twice. But at least let's get together all the gear we'll +need when we <i>do</i> go to Fearing."</p> + +<p>"I guess we'll have time for <i>that</i>," Bud conceded with a sympathetic +grin.</p> + +<p>Tom assembled a mass of electronic equipment and phoned various +Enterprises' departments for other items. Bud helped to collect them, +and the boys trucked the paraphernalia out to a hangar to be loaded +aboard a Whirling Duck. Then they scootered back to the lab for a quick +shower and change.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later, in sport jackets, checked shirts, and slacks, the +two chums hopped into Bud's red convertible. They picked up Sandy and +Phyl and drove a little way into the country for dinner at a huge old +farmhouse restaurant.</p> + +<p>"Well, the evening's off to a good start," Sandy said with a happy laugh +as they headed back along the lakeshore road to the yacht club.</p> + +<p>"Hope I didn't put away too much fried chicken to sashay properly at the +square dance," Bud remarked.</p> + +<p>Tom chuckled. "Don't worry, pal. You always untangle those feet of yours +when the fiddle strikes up!"</p> + +<p>The blazing lights of the yacht club were reflected in the blue-black +mirror of the boat basin. Bud parked and they went inside.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, buckaroos!" Chow Winkler greeted them with an enthusiastic +bellow as they entered the dance room.</p> + +<p>The old cowpoke was splendidly dressed in a maroon satin shirt and white +whipcord breeches tucked into shiny new boots. But instead of his usual +sombrero, a chef's cap was perched on his head.</p> + +<p>"Chow! You look marvelous!" Sandy said.</p> + +<p>The cook blushed with pleasure. "You gals look purty enough to charm a +hoot owl right off'n his perch!" he shot back. Both Phyl and Sandy were +wearing gay calico dresses that had full swirling skirts.</p> + +<p>The room was decked out with colored bunting and twisted crepe-paper +streamers. And at one end of the dance room, Chow had rigged up a model +of a Western chuck wagon.</p> + +<p>"Real atmosphere!" Tom said admiringly. "Chow, you've done us proud!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, boss." The cook, who had asked especially to take charge of the +decorations, glowed at the praise. Then he became serious. "But what's +keepin' that dad-blamed fiddler?"</p> + +<p>The guests soon began to stream in, but half an hour went by, and Lester +Morris and his fellow musicians had not arrived.</p> + +<p>"I'd better phone his house," Tom decided worriedly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morris answered. She seemed surprised at Tom's call. "Why, my +husband's playing at a party over in Carterton this evening," she said. +"Are you sure you engaged him for tonight?"</p> + +<p>"I'm positive," Tom replied.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, please. I'll look in his date book to see if there's +been a mistake."</p> + +<p>A minute later her voice came over the line again. "I'm terribly sorry, +Mr. Swift, but your name isn't listed anywhere on Lester's schedule."</p> + +<p>The others saw from Tom's face as he hung up that something was wrong.</p> + +<p>"What gives?" Bud asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No music for one thing." Tom reported what Mrs. Morris had told him.</p> + +<p>"But you hired the guy!" Bud protested. "And Sandy and I talked to his +agent!"</p> + +<p>Tom was already piecing together the mystery. He shook his head +thoughtfully. "I'm sure now the whole deal was a hoax, Bud," he +declared. "Both the first call that supposedly came from Lester Morris, +and the second one asking me to come here and talk things over."</p> + +<p>By not responding to the second call in person, Tom went on, he had +probably saved himself from being waylaid or kidnaped by his enemies.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness!" Sandy exclaimed. "Still, that creepy Len Unger was +trying to get information from us."</p> + +<p>"But how did your enemy know about the dance, Tom?" Phyl Newton put in.</p> + +<p>Sandy snapped her fingers. "I know! I'll bet it was when we went +shopping for our dresses, Phyl, right after the boys invited us! The +department store was full of people—almost anyone might have heard us +discussing the dance!"</p> + +<p>"Especially if he was already trailing you to pick up bits of useful +information," Tom agreed.</p> + +<p>Bud whipped out a handkerchief and mopped his face nervously. "The +question is what do we do now, chums? A roomful of guests and no music!"</p> + +<p>"Relax, pardners!" Chow broke in cheerfully. "Just keep things goin' for +a spell, an' I'll fix things up pronto!"</p> + +<p>Doffing his chef's cap, Chow hustled out to his parked jeep and took off +with a roar. Mystified but hopeful, Tom, Bud, and Phyl did their best to +entertain the guests. Sandy had rushed to the telephone. In twenty +minutes Chow came rushing back.</p> + +<p>"Hey! He has a fiddle!" Bud exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Mounting the platform, the stout cowpoke raised his hands and shouted +for attention.</p> + +<p>"Ladies an' gents, we'll start off with that good old dance known as the +Texas Star!"</p> + +<p>As everyone took his place, Chow tuned up hastily. Then he tucked the +fiddle under his chin, stomped out the rhythm, and launched into a +lively rendition of "Turkey in the Straw" while he called out the +accompaniment:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +"<i>Gals to the middle, then back so far!<br /> +Gents step up for a clockwise star!<br /> +Now shift hands and twirl t'other way,<br /> +We'll keep on dancin' till the break o' day....</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>The dance number finally ended to thunderous applause. Chow, puffing and +red-faced but wreathed in smiles, was soon ready for another. Half an +hour later, a dance band of high school boys, hastily summoned by Sandy, +arrived to spell the Texan.</p> + +<p>The irrepressible chef, however, continued to call out most of the +numbers and proved to be the hero of the evening. He gained even more +acclaim for his delicious French fried potatoes and "steerburgers" +served during the pause for refreshments.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Chow! What would we ever do without you?" Sandy said, and the cook +beamed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, in the midst of the lively chatter and laughter, the dance +floor was plunged into total darkness!</p> + +<p>Phyl clung fearfully to her escort. "Tom!" she gasped. "This is another +trick of your enemy's to harm you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><b>CHAPTER XII</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>DETECTION TEST</b></p> + + +<p>"Don't worry, Phyl. It may be only a blown fuse," Tom tried to assure +the fearful girl.</p> + +<p>But Tom was worried himself. Not only might he be in danger, but it +could involve his friends!</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he raised his voice above the excited babble. "Please be +calm, everyone! We'll have the lights on again in a jiffy!"</p> + +<p>Taking Phyl by the hand, Tom groped his way toward the main door.</p> + +<p>"Let's check the switch," he murmured, and ran his hand over the wall +near the door. He located the metal plate and flipped the switch.</p> + +<p>The lights went on! Good-natured cheers arose. Bud, grinning but +puzzled, left Sandy's side long enough to come over and speak to Tom.</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"I guess some practical joker clicked off the switch."</p> + +<p>Bud suddenly caught sight of a stout youth in a plaid shirt and blue +jeans, who was standing in a nearby corner. He was shaking all over with +half-stifled merriment.</p> + +<p>"There's the wise guy! Rock Harriman!"</p> + +<p>Rock, an all-star tackle on the Shopton High football team, was well +known for his pranks and practical jokes. Bud rushed over.</p> + +<p>"Okay! Confess!" the husky young flier roared in a jokingly ferocious +tone.</p> + +<p>"Don't get sore!" Rock gasped between chuckles. "I couldn't resist. Boy, +did you hear everyone squeal when the lights went out?"</p> + +<p>Tom grinned in relief. "How about another dance, Phyl?"</p> + +<p>As the music struck up again, he squeezed Phyl's hand. "I sure +appreciate your concern, even if I didn't rate it."</p> + +<p>Phyl blushed as she returned the squeeze. "You rate with me," she +confided shyly.</p> + +<p>The festivities finally ended after a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Both +Sandy and Phyl declared to their dates that it more than made up for the +forgotten beach party.</p> + +<p>"But let's not wait too long for the next date," Sandy warned playfully.</p> + +<p>"Okay, that's a deal," Bud promised.</p> + +<p>The next morning at the plant Tom called on Harlan Ames. He told of the +sinister hoax by the caller who had passed himself off as Lester Morris. +The security chief promised to investigate.</p> + +<p>"I'll tip off the police about Len Unger," Ames added. "If they can find +him, we may be able to crack this case wide open."</p> + +<p>Tom telephoned Bud, Hank Sterling, and Arv Hanson to meet him at the +helijet hangar. The four took off in one of the Swifts' Whirling Ducks, +which was standing by loaded and ready. Soon they landed on Fearing +Island, where Tom would try out his antidetection invention.</p> + +<p>"What'll we use for a test sub, skipper?" Hank asked as they drove +toward the docks.</p> + +<p>"A jetmarine," Tom replied.</p> + +<p>A truck with engineers and technicians was following the jeep. It +carried the equipment which Tom and Bud had assembled the previous day.</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the docks, Tom gathered the men in a loading shed. +He showed them his drawings and explained how his "sonar-blinding" setup +would operate.</p> + +<p>"Don't let the diagrams fool you. The basic idea is very simple. We +absorb all sonar impulses that hit the ship and transmit them out the +opposite side of the hull, instead of letting a ping bounce back and +show up on the sonarscope of any hostile sub on the lookout for us."</p> + +<p>Most of the job, he went on, would be tedious detail work. It would +consist of attaching hundreds of mikes and speakers all over the hull to +pick up and transmit the sonar pulses. The mikes would be receiving +transducers and the speakers would be transmitting transducers.</p> + +<p>"The leads from them," Tom ended, "will be centralized in a single +electronic control unit inside the ship. I'll handle that part of it."</p> + +<p>"Great idea, Tom!" Arv Hanson said admiringly.</p> + +<p>"But what a job it'll be rigging those transducers," put in one of the +technicians.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded wryly. "You're right, Danny. If this experiment works out, +though, I think I can lick that problem on future installations."</p> + +<p>The young inventor explained that he hoped to find a way to mold the +transducers into a continuous plastic sheet. This could be applied to +the hull of a submarine in a single operation.</p> + +<p>"But this time we'll have to do it the hard way," Tom added with an +apologetic grin.</p> + +<p>A jetmarine was hoisted into drydock and the work crew swarmed over it, +rigging the transducers. Would his experiment succeed? Tom wondered. +Hopefully, he set to work assembling the electronic control unit.</p> + +<p>Bud helped the men on the hull for a while, then descended through the +hatch to see how Tom was progressing.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus008.jpg" alt="experiment" /> +</p> + + +<p>"I'd go gaga trying to keep track of those circuits," Bud said, as he +watched Tom installing the delicate transistors and other components +with an electric soldering gun.</p> + +<p>The young inventor grinned. "It'll be simple enough when the control +unit's all put together," he replied. "Just a single on-off switch and +one test circuit."</p> + +<p>By noon, after working at a frenzied pace, the job was done. Tom thanked +each one of the men personally. Then everyone went to eat lunch.</p> + +<p>After the meal, Hank Sterling asked, "How about a detection test to see +how she works?"</p> + +<p>"Coming right up," Tom said. "Want to skipper the jetmarine, Bud?"</p> + +<p>"Sure do!"</p> + +<p>"Okay. Pick out a couple of men for a crew and take her down." Tom +produced a hydrographic chart of the waters around Fearing and marked +out a test area. "Cruise around there for an hour and we'll try to spot +you in the <i>Sea Hound</i>."</p> + +<p>"Hide and seek, eh?" Bud grinned and snapped a salute, then left to +supervise the relaunching of the jetmarine.</p> + +<p>For his crew, Bud chose Mel Flagler and another man. Mel was an +experienced jetmariner who had gone on the Swift expedition to Aurum +City, the underwater ruins of a lost civilization. Here Tom had used his +spectromarine selector to restore the ancient buildings.</p> + +<p>Tom, Hank, and Arv went back to the airfield and soon took off in the +diving seacopter. Landing on the water, they submerged and began the +undersea detection test.</p> + +<p>Tom manned the sonarscope personally, eager to conduct as careful a +search as possible.</p> + +<p>"Getting any blips, skipper?" Hank called out from his post at the <i>Sea +Hound</i>'s controls.</p> + +<p>"Not a ping, Hank. The system seems to be working out even better than +I'd hoped."</p> + +<p>Tom felt a glow of satisfaction. He explained, however, that the +jetmarine's transparent nose pane—which had to be left unprotected for +the pilot's visibility—offered one vulnerable spot to sonar detection.</p> + +<p>"But a little smart maneuvering can cover up that angle," Tom added. +"Try the hydrophones, Arv, and see if you can hear 'em."</p> + +<p>The chief modelmaker slipped on the earphones and listened intently. For +another ten or fifteen minutes they probed about with no sound trace of +the "invisible" jetmarine.</p> + +<p>But presently Arv snapped his fingers to catch Tom's attention. "Got +her, skipper!"</p> + +<p>Tom took over the hydrophones. Sure enough, his ears could make out the +faint hum of the jetmarine's atomic turbines. Tom directed Hank toward +the sound, then ordered him to switch on the <i>Sea Hound</i>'s powerful +search beam.</p> + +<p>The light cut a path of radiance through the murky dark-green waters. +Dead ahead, the jetmarine could be seen gliding across their field of +view.</p> + +<p>"Your system blinded our sonar okay, skipper," Hank commented, "but this +proves she could still be spotted by enemy listening devices."</p> + +<p>Tom refused to be discouraged. He ordered Hank to return to base and +wait for Bud. Meanwhile, the young inventor applied himself to the +problem of how to mask the sub's noise.</p> + +<p>"How about it, pal?" Bud asked, when he reported aboard the seacopter a +while later.</p> + +<p>Tom explained the results of the test and the need for an added +safeguard against hydrophone detection. "Think I see a simple way out, +though," he added with a pleased chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Natch! With a brain like yours, it's a cinch," Bud quipped. "Explain, +professor."</p> + +<p>"Well, we can never do away with the noise of a sub's propulsion +machinery," Tom began. "That goes without saying. So we'll have to +camouflage it—lose it in the underwater jungle noises, so to speak."</p> + +<p>Bud scratched his head. "How do we do that?"</p> + +<p>"By amplifying the natural undersea sounds all about it," Tom explained. +"Fish and all forms of underwater life make a background noise over the +hydrophones, you know."</p> + +<p>As Bud nodded, Tom went on, "So we simply step up the volume till the +sub's own noise gets drowned out or 'wasted' in all the racket."</p> + +<p>This could be done, he concluded, with fairly simple amplifying +equipment. Bud, Hank, and Arv were jubilant at the idea.</p> + +<p>"Nice going," Bud said. "How soon can we give it a try?"</p> + +<p>"Soon as I can rig up the amplifier," Tom promised.</p> + +<p>In less than two hours they were ready to submerge again. Zimby Cox +joined the crew. Bud suggested taking along hydrolungs in case of any +need for tinkering with the transducers or amplifying equipment.</p> + +<p>This time, the jetmarine scored perfectly on the test, successfully +eluding all the <i>Sea Hound</i>'s efforts to detect it. Tom returned happily +to base, feeling that the antidetection problem was now solved. The +jetmarine, however, failed to appear.</p> + +<p>"That's funny. The test was over at four-fifteen," Tom murmured.</p> + +<p>"Maybe Bud surfaced out at sea somewhere," Arv Hanson suggested.</p> + +<p>Repeated radio calls brought no response. Tom, now seriously worried, +took the seacopter down again for another search, hoping that Bud would +have switched off the antidetection gear by this time. But neither +sonarscope nor listening devices revealed the slightest clue.</p> + +<p>Tom, Hank, and Arv exchanged fearful glances. Had the jetmarine +foundered on the ocean bottom—perhaps fouled somehow by Tom's new +invention? Or had Bud and his crew fallen victim to the enemy?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>ENEMY FROGMEN</b></p> + + + +<p>At the end of the test period, Bud had prepared to bring the jetmarine +to the surface. But just as he was about to blow the ballast tanks, Mel +Flagler sang out a warning from the sonarscope.</p> + +<p>"Whoa! Hold it, skipper! I think we have company on the starboard beam!"</p> + +<p>Bud jerked his head around in surprise. "You mean the <i>Sea Hound</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, she surfaced," Mel reported. "Can't make this out yet, but it could +be another sub."</p> + +<p>Bud turned the controls over to Zimby Cox. Then he rushed to the scope +and examined the blip. "Seems to be moving away from us on a westerly +course. It's about two miles from here."</p> + +<p>He donned the hydrophone earset and listened. "It's no seacopter, nor a +jetmarine either," he announced presently.</p> + +<p>"A Navy sub, maybe?" suggested Zimby.</p> + +<p>Bud shrugged. "Let's find out." He ordered a change of course, hard to +the right, and gunned the jets to bring the jetmarine directly on the +mystery object's trail.</p> + +<p>"It's a sub, all right," he said a short time later, listening again +over the hydrophones.</p> + +<p>"Pretty close to Fearing Island, isn't it?" put in Mel Flagler. "That's +a government-restricted area."</p> + +<p>Bud nodded grimly. "But staying just out of sonar range from the base."</p> + +<p>The jetmarine closed steadily on its quarry. In a few minutes they were +able to make it out dimly through the cabin window, dead ahead.</p> + +<p>"That's sure no U.S. Navy sub that I know of," Bud said. "Probably an +enemy snooper."</p> + +<p>"What if they spot us?" Zimby asked.</p> + +<p>Bud chuckled. "That's the beauty of it, pal! Don't forget. With this new +antidetection gear we're invisible to them. At least as long as they +don't run into us or we into them," he added.</p> + +<p>"Or unless they have superdetection equipment we don't know about," +cautioned Mel Flagler.</p> + +<p>As they talked, the unidentified submarine was bearing steadily toward +the mainland. Fathometer soundings showed it was on a steep upward slope +of the continental shelf.</p> + +<p>Presently a foaming gush of bubbles showed that the sub ahead was +blowing its tanks. The jetmarine followed as it surfaced and Bud hastily +manned the periscope.</p> + +<p>"What're they up to?" Mel asked tensely.</p> + +<p>"Don't know yet, but the hatch is opening," Bud reported. Suddenly he +gave an excited gasp. "Jumpin' jets! They're sending out a couple of +frogmen!"</p> + +<p>Bud's companions were electrified by the news.</p> + +<p>"Spies!" Zimby exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"What do we do now?" piped up Mack Avery, the third man in Bud's crew. +"Hadn't we better radio the Coast Guard and the FBI?"</p> + +<p>Bud wrenched away from the eyepiece. "I have another idea! Any of you +fellows game to go with me and capture those spies?"</p> + +<p>All three of his companions volunteered eagerly. Bud chose Mel Flagler, +then took another sight through the periscope.</p> + +<p>"The sub's submerging again," he reported. "That'll give us a clear +field. Zimby, you and Mack keep an eye on that baby while we're gone, +and be plenty careful she doesn't spot you!"</p> + +<p>"Roger! And take this roll of wire to tie up your prisoners."</p> + +<p>Hastily Bud and Mel changed into swimming trunks and donned hydrolungs. +They went out through the air lock, plunged into the bracing salt water, +and switched on their ion-drive units.</p> + +<p>"Can you see 'em?" Mel asked over his mike.</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Let's speed up before we lose 'em completely!"</p> + +<p>Both pushed their ion drives to capacity, scanning the water ahead in +all directions.</p> + +<p>"There they are!" Bud exclaimed presently. He pointed to two tiny +figures, barely visible in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Wow! They're sure not wasting any time!" Mel muttered. "Let's step on +it, Bud! They'll be ashore in a minute!"</p> + +<p>A darting school of sea bass screened the figures briefly from view. As +the fish flickered past, Mel and Bud saw the frogmen breast-stroke up +toward the surface and break water.</p> + +<p>Bud and Mel followed. Ahead lay a barren stretch of beach, humped with +sand dunes. It was skirted beyond by a thick fringe of trees.</p> + +<p>"They certainly picked a perfect spot for a sneak landing!" Bud thought. +The beach seemed totally deserted, with no sign of human habitation.</p> + +<p>By this time, the frogmen were scrambling ashore. Within moments, Bud +and Mel were on their heels. The raiders whirled in dismay as they +caught the sound of footsteps rushing up behind them through the sand.</p> + +<p>Bud and Mel hurled themselves forward, each dropping a man with a flying +tackle. All four went down in a struggling, kicking tangle of arms and +legs.</p> + +<p>The battle was rough but short. Bud and Mel had the advantage of +surprise, and soon pommeled and grappled their foes into submission.</p> + +<p>Bud, astride his opponent's chest with knees pinning the man's arms, +unlooped from his belt the wire he had brought.</p> + +<p>"Here! Take some of this and wire your man's wrists together!" Bud told +Mel.</p> + +<p>When the frogmen were safely bound, Bud and Mel allowed them to stand +up. Neither captive tried to escape.</p> + +<p>"Now, my sneaky friends, talk!" Bud snapped. "What kind of a sightseeing +trip did you plan?"</p> + +<p>The frogmen's jaws remained tightly clamped. Both looked flushed and +sullen as they faced their captors.</p> + +<p>"Got their lips zipped, I guess," Mel said disgustedly.</p> + +<p>Bud decided to try another tack. "Doesn't matter," he said carelessly. +"We know they're pals of the Mirovs."</p> + +<p>Both men started as if they had been stung. Bud followed up quickly, +hoping to prod them into some unguarded remark.</p> + +<p>"Just as we thought!" he snarled. "A couple of low-down Brungarian +rebels! And up to their usual amateurish spy stunts!"</p> + +<p>The raiders' eyes blazed, but they maintained silence. Both, however, +kept darting looks of keen interest at the Americans' hydrolung gear.</p> + +<p>Just as Bud was wondering how he could get the prisoners to the nearest +police headquarters, a jeep came bouncing into view across the sand.</p> + +<p>"Hey! Police!" Mel exclaimed with a happy grin.</p> + +<p>"We're in luck," Bud said. "They can take these creeps off our hands."</p> + +<p>The jeep braked to a halt a few yards away, and two uniformed officers +hopped out.</p> + +<p>"What's going on here?" said one, who was wearing a sergeant's stripes. +The jeep had the words BEACH PATROL stenciled on it in white paint.</p> + +<p>"We just nailed these two Brungarian frogmen," Bud explained. "A sub put +them ashore—probably as spies or saboteurs. They won't talk to us, but +maybe you can pump them at headquarters."</p> + +<p>The startled sergeant turned a cold eye on the two prisoners. "Got +anything to say for yourselves?" When neither answered, he unholstered +his revolver and covered them. "Better take off those wires and put +bracelets on them, Mike," he told his fellow officer.</p> + +<p>The frogmen were handcuffed with cool efficiency and bundled into the +jeep. Meanwhile, the sergeant turned back to Bud and Mel.</p> + +<p>"You fellows come along too," he ordered.</p> + +<p>"But we haven't got time," Bud protested. "Our own sub's waiting right +offshore and we want to tail the sub that brought those guys here! +We're from the Swift rocket base."</p> + +<p>"Any identification?" the sergeant asked.</p> + +<p>"How <i>could</i> we have in this getup?" Mel retorted.</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought. So get moving," the sergeant barked.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, Bud and Mel hopped onto the running board and clung to the +bouncing jeep as it sped to the nearby town of Sandbank. At headquarters +they were questioned by the local police chief.</p> + +<p>"If you'll call Swift Enterprises at Shopton, sir, Mr. Swift—or Harlan +Ames of the plant security department—will vouch for us," Bud said.</p> + +<p>The chief picked up the telephone and soon had Mr. Swift on the line. +After speaking to him briefly, he passed the phone to Bud so the +scientist could identify his voice.</p> + +<p>"That's Bud Barclay, all right. He's one of our most trusted employees," +Mr. Swift told the chief after hearing Bud's story.</p> + +<p>The officer promised to release Mel and Bud at once. Before doing so, +however, he took them into the adjoining office where the two frogmen +were being questioned.</p> + +<p>"Any luck?" the chief asked the sergeant.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Gryce shook his head in disgust. "Not much. They did admit they +came in a sub, but they claim it didn't wait to pick them up."</p> + +<p>The police chief shot a few questions of his own at the men, but they +answered either in curt monosyllables or not at all.</p> + +<p>"Look, sir," Bud put in, "if they're telling the truth about their sub +not waiting, our jetmarine may have chased it. That means Mel and I are +stranded here. Could you have your men wait for us on the beach till we +find out?"</p> + +<p>"Gladly," the chief replied. "You two have done a fine day's work."</p> + +<p>After the prisoners had been locked up to be handed over to the FBI, the +two Beach Patrol officers drove Bud and Mel back to the area where they +had landed. Just as the jeep turned down the dirt road leading to the +shore, Bud's keen eyes spotted a lurking figure in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Stop, please!" Bud said, tapping the driver on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>As the jeep halted, Bud pointed toward the beach. A man was crouching +behind a sand dune, with a large fish basket beside him. The sergeant, +puzzled, took out a pair of binoculars to study the situation. +Fortunately, the jeep was still screened by trees, and the crouching man +evidently did not realize he had been seen.</p> + +<p>"What's in the basket?" Bud asked. "Could it be clothes?"</p> + +<p>"Sure looks like it," the sergeant said, passing over the binoculars.</p> + +<p>After a brief look, Bud explained the hunch that had occurred to him. +"I'll bet that guy's waiting with clothes for the frogmen. He probably +got here late and doesn't realize they've been nabbed!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he'll soon find out," the police driver said grimly. He was about +to start up the jeep when Bud stopped him again.</p> + +<p>"Wait! You have no proof that's what he's here for," Bud pointed out.</p> + +<p>The pilot suggested that the police keep out of sight while he and Mel +approached the man in their swimming gear. "If that stranger takes the +bait, we'll really have the goods on him!" Bud concluded.</p> + +<p>"Smart idea, son," the sergeant said with a dry chuckle. "Go to it!"</p> + +<p>Bud and Mel circled widely through the trees, took a quick dip in the +water, then approached along the beach as if they had just landed and +were searching for someone.</p> + +<p>To their delight, the man rose from behind the sand dune and hailed +them. Bud and Mel hurried over to him.</p> + +<p>"You have clothes for us?" Bud asked. "We just came ashore from the +sub!"</p> + +<p>"Yeah, right here," the man said in English with no trace of an accent. +"Thought I'd missed you."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, pal—that's all we want to know!"</p> + +<p>The man gaped in comic dismay as Bud pounced on him and pinned him to +the ground. Moments later, the two police officers rushed up and +handcuffed him.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus009.jpg" alt="man" /> +</p> + + +<p>"Hey! What's the big idea?" the man stammered. "I ain't done nothing. +Just got a phone call this morning, offering me fifty bucks to bring two +sets of clothes down to the beach at five o'clock for a couple of +divers."</p> + +<p>"Tell that to the FBI!" snapped the sergeant.</p> + +<p>When the officers had departed with their new prisoner, Bud and Mel, +both grinning, dived into the surf and headed out to sea.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes they were sure they were at the right spot to meet the +jetmarine. But it was gone!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>A PROPAGANDA BLITZ</b></p> + + + + +<p>As the <i>Sea Hound</i> returned to Fearing Island from its search for Bud's +jetmarine, Tom was beside himself with worry. Had his experiment cost +the lives of his best friend and the other crewmen aboard?</p> + +<p>"I'll never forgive myself if anything's happened to them!" Tom muttered +bleakly.</p> + +<p>Hank Sterling squeezed the young inventor's arm. "You know Bud's high +spirits, skipper," he said. "He may have taken off on some crazy lark."</p> + +<p>"Sure! A whale hunt, maybe!" Arv Hanson wisecracked, trying to lighten +the gloom.</p> + +<p>Tom forced a grin, but he remained heavy-hearted as they neared the +base. His only hope now was that a radio message from the jetmarine +might have been picked up while they were gone.</p> + +<p>As soon as the seacopter was moored, Tom leaped ashore. The crewmen on +the docks had no news to report, so Tom piled into a jeep with Arv and +sped off to the Fearing communications center. Hank remained aboard the +<i>Sea Hound</i> to secure all gear.</p> + +<p>Churning along the graveled road, Tom and Arv passed the launching area. +Huge, needle-nosed cargo rockets and the mighty spaceship <i>Titan</i> loomed +against the sky. Tom's moon-voyaging <i>Challenger</i> and his more recent +space craft the <i>Cosmic Sailer</i> were also based there.</p> + +<p>"Going to alert the Navy for a search?" Arv inquired as they reached the +communications building.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded and braked the jeep to a screeching halt. "Coast Guard too. +They can pass the word to commercial shipping to be on the lookout."</p> + +<p>A telephone rang as he hurried into the office.</p> + +<p>"For you," the clerk said, looking up at Tom. "Nice timing!"</p> + +<p>Tom grabbed the phone. His face widened into a grin. "Bud! You seagoing +jet stream! What happened?"</p> + +<p>Arv grinned, too, in relief.</p> + +<p>"Your antidetection gear worked so well we vanished right out of the +ocean!" Bud replied with a chuckle. Turning serious, he reported how his +jetmarine had trailed the mysterious intruder and how he and Mel had +captured the two Brungarian frogmen and their shore contact.</p> + +<p>"Nice going, pal!" Tom exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But here's the catch," Bud went on. "When we took off again in our +hydrolungs to go back aboard ship, the jetmarine was gone!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe she's trailing the enemy sub," Tom conjectured.</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm hoping," Bud said uneasily. "Trouble is, our subs +aren't armed, and who knows about that Brungarian job? The way they +sling missiles around, anything could happen if she spots the +jetmarine."</p> + +<p>Tom frowned. "I'll organize a search right away. Where are you calling +from?"</p> + +<p>"Police headquarters at Sandbank."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Take it easy, and I'll send a whirlybird to pick you up," Tom +promised.</p> + +<p>"And don't forget some clothes," Bud added with a chuckle. "Mel and I +are getting chilly."</p> + +<p>"Right!" Tom hung up and gave Arv Hanson a quick briefing.</p> + +<p>Then he phoned the base airfield to dispatch a helicopter. He also +contacted the nearest Coast Guard station and put through a +long-distance call to Navy Headquarters in Washington to request help in +searching for the jetmarine. Finally he and Arv headed back to the +submarine docks in the jeep.</p> + +<p>A flurry of activity followed as Tom detailed ships for the search and +rounded up crews. He was interrupted by a phone call in the loading +shed. It was the control-tower operator.</p> + +<p>"One of our drone planes has spotted a sub approaching, skipper," the +operator reported.</p> + +<p>"What bearing?" Tom demanded excitedly.</p> + +<p>"One-seven-six." Tom was about to hang up and grab a pair of binoculars +when the operator added hastily, "Wait! It's responding to our radio +challenge!... That's ours, all right!"</p> + +<p>Tom dashed out of the shed and scanned the sea to the southward. Sure +enough, a jetmarine had surfaced and was speeding toward the sub docks. +Minutes later, Tom was shaking hands warmly with Zimby Cox and Mack +Avery.</p> + +<p>"Is Bud okay?" was Zimby's first question.</p> + +<p>"Right! I just heard from him," Tom replied. "He and Mel captured those +enemy frogmen and a copter's on the way to pick them up. What happened +to you fellows?"</p> + +<p>Zimby confirmed Bud's guess that they had taken off in pursuit of the +enemy craft.</p> + +<p>"We figured Bud and Mel could make out on their own," Zimby explained. +"And we thought the sub's course or actions might tip us off to its +nationality. Also, if it tried any sabotage or mine-planting, we could +radio the Navy."</p> + +<p>Instead, Cox went on, the mysterious craft had proceeded to a point +about ten miles offshore where it rendezvoused with another submarine.</p> + +<p>"And get this, skipper!" Mack Avery put in. "The other sub was +undetectable! We were close enough to get a peek at it, but we couldn't +ping it on the sonarscope."</p> + +<p>"That figures," Tom said grimly. "Those frogmen were apparently +Brungarians."</p> + +<p>Zimby Cox related that a man had transferred from the undetectable +submarine to the one they had been following. The first sub had then +headed out to sea, as if to cross the ocean back to its home base. The +other had departed on a course toward the South Atlantic.</p> + +<p>"Probably back to the lost missile area. At least that's the way we +figured it," Zimby added.</p> + +<p>"And neither sub spotted you?" Tom questioned.</p> + +<p>Zimby grinned wryly. "We might not be here if they <i>had</i> detected us. +But I'm pretty sure they didn't. Anyhow, they gave no sign."</p> + +<p>Tom was doubly elated at the news. His antidetection gear had evidently +worked perfectly in a showdown test with the enemy, even at close range. +Moreover, if the second sub was returning to the South Atlantic, it +seemed likely that the enemy, too, had not yet located the precious +missile with its data from Jupiter.</p> + +<p>"You guys rate Navy medals," Tom told Zimby and Mack jubilantly. "Come +on back to Shopton with me and I'll buy you the juiciest steaks in +town!"</p> + +<p>Before leaving the base, Tom called the Coast Guard and the Navy to +cancel his search request. He also telephoned a full report on the enemy +submarines to Admiral Walter.</p> + +<p>After hanging up, Tom decided on another move. "Our antidetection gear +seems to have panned out pretty well," he told Hank. "I think we should +make use of it right away. By sending that jetmarine to the South +Atlantic, we might get a line on enemy activities down there."</p> + +<p>Hank was in favor of the idea. He volunteered to prepare the jetmarine +for a cruise and take off from Fearing that very night.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Tom said with a parting handshake. "Keep us posted if you +learn anything."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Bud and Mel Flagler had arrived at the base by helicopter. +They and their two shipmates flew back to the mainland with Tom and Arv +for a celebration dinner in town.</p> + +<p>The next morning found the young inventor hard at work in his private +laboratory. He was tapping his head with his slide rule and frowning at +a blackboard scrawled with equations when Bud dropped in for a visit.</p> + +<p>"What now, inventor boy?" his copilot asked. "Don't you ever give that +brain of yours a rest?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hi, Bud!" Tom looked around absent-mindedly. "I'm just trying to +figure out a way to crack the Brungarians' antisonar system."</p> + +<p>"Good night!" Bud sank down on a lab stool. +"You've come up with a way to make our own subs undetectable. Isn't that +enough?"</p> + +<p>Tom shook his head. "Not if we want to keep track of those sneaks. And I +think I see a way to do it."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"So far, I have been thinking about refining our own search sonar." Tom +explained that the new system he had in mind would send out a <i>complex</i> +pulse—that is, an underwater sound wave with many harmonics instead of +a single tone, sharp-peaked sound impulse.</p> + +<p>"This will make it less likely that their antidetection gear will absorb +all of it," Tom went on. "What's not absorbed will return as an echo. +I'm also going to modify our receivers. But I've still not worked that +out."</p> + +<p>Bud nodded, his forehead puckered in a look of concentration. "So—?"</p> + +<p>"So our sonar picks up all that hash, and by means of a computer setup +filters out the sub's real echo from the shadow reflections."</p> + +<p>"Hey! Sounds pretty cute," Bud said.</p> + +<p>Tom broke into a dry chuckle. "Right—<i>if</i> I can do it." After that job, +Tom added, he hoped to adapt his own antidetection methods to make +hydrolung wearers safe from underwater detection. "And if the Jupiter +prober hasn't been found by that time, Bud, I'm going to request the +Navy to let us take over the search alone."</p> + +<p>Bud gave a whistle of excitement at the possibility of new undersea +adventures ahead. "Count me in, pal!"</p> + +<p>The two boys broke off their conversation a short time later and went +back to the Administration Building for lunch with Tom's father.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift greeted them with a smile as they entered the big double +office. "Glad you could join me, boys! Chow's laid out quite a feast for +us today."</p> + +<p>Three places had been set at the conference table, and an appetizing +repast of sizzling ham and sweet potatoes waited in covered dishes on a +lunch cart nearby.</p> + +<p>"Mmm!" Bud inhaled the aroma. "Good chow from good old Chow!"</p> + +<p>Tom switched on the videophone screen to a private channel to catch the +noon news while they ate. The newscaster wore a look of excitement as he +spoke without pausing for the usual commercial.</p> + +<p>"The Brungarian government has just scored a propaganda bombshell!" he +reported. "In a news announcement released less than half an hour ago, +they stated that their Navy has perfected an <i>undetectable submarine</i>!"</p> + +<p>The Swifts and Bud froze, openmouthed, at the newscaster's words.</p> + +<p>"No need to tell you what this could mean to American security," he went +on. "If enemy subs slipped through our continental defenses, their +missiles could devastate the United States with scarcely an instant's +warning! The whole country's been rocked by the announcement. An +official comment by our Defense Department is expected at any moment."</p> + +<p>"Sufferin' satellites!" Bud gulped.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift nodded. "It's a great propaganda stroke. But I wonder why +they've chosen to reveal their secret at this time."</p> + +<p>Tom said thoughtfully, "Dad, do you suppose they've realized the fact +that we <i>know</i> about their antisonar gear?"</p> + +<p>"Could be, son. They may figure that since the secret is out already, +they may as well play it up for all it's worth." The elder scientist +paused and frowned. "Or it might be intended to force our hand."</p> + +<p>"You mean in hopes of getting us to reveal whether or not we have an +antidetection system ourselves?" As his father nodded, Tom scowled. "If +so, that sub yesterday may have been observing our tests."</p> + +<p>The telephone rang and Tom leaped to answer it. The caller was Dan +Perkins of the <i>Shopton Evening Bulletin</i>.</p> + +<p>"You can guess why I'm calling, Tom," the editor said. "How about a +statement from you Swifts on this Brungarian sub story?"</p> + +<p>"We found it very interesting," Tom said politely but noncommittally. +Parrying further questions, he hung up as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swift approved Tom's policy of silence. Almost immediately the phone +began ringing again with a succession of calls from other newspapers and +wire services. Tom dashed off a brief, general statement and instructed +Miss Trent to give it to all further callers.</p> + +<p>"Maybe this is a good time to make a private announcement to you +fellows," Mr. Swift said to the two boys, his eyes twinkling. "Do you +recall my telling you that Doc Simpson had isolated an unknown vitamin +from the space plants? Well, we've now discovered that this vitamin can +condition the human body to stay under water indefinitely. Doc is +putting some up in capsule form."</p> + +<p>Both Tom and Bud gave whoops of glee at this news.</p> + +<p>"Dad, you've helped overcome one of the big problems in our search for +the lost missile!" Tom exclaimed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><b>CHAPTER XV</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>MOUNTAIN HIKE</b></p> + + + +<p>"After adequate doses of your space vitamin, Dad, a skin diver could +tackle almost any undersea job in my hydrolung!" Tom exclaimed. "He +wouldn't be subjected to any antiosmosis troubles with his body +tissues."</p> + +<p>His father nodded. "For the first time, man might become a <i>truly marine +creature</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Wow! Think of it!" Bud gasped excitedly. "With Tom's hydrolung and a +knife to hunt his own food, he could practically live in the sea!"</p> + +<p>"That's no farfetched dream, Bud." Tom's steel-blue eyes flashed at the +thought of new fields of scientific conquest. "This discovery of Dad's +and Doc Simpson's opens up some really amazing possibilities."</p> + +<p>Most important at the moment, the vitamin would be a great boon in +carrying out search and digging operations for the Jupiter prober. With +fresh enthusiasm, Tom returned to his laboratory to work on the new +sonar gear. In his own mind, he had already named it a "quality analyzer +sonar," since that exactly described the way it would function.</p> + +<p>"Hmm, let's see," Tom mused as he settled down at his workbench, pencil +in hand. "Besides a regular sonarscope, I'll need at least three units +for the gear."</p> + +<p>First, he would need an oscillator to produce the complex pulse. Next, +of course, an oscilloscope to check the pulse as it was beamed out. +Last—but highly important—a correlation calculator.</p> + +<p>This latter unit would compare the original pulse with the returning +echoes. If an echo had a high enough "standard of acceptance"—that is, +if its quality was very near the original pulse, it would show up on the +screen in the normal way. If the echo came back blurred, or if "shadow +echoes" showed up, these would be separated and appear on the screen +colored red.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" Tom sighed as he realized the complicated job of circuit design +that lay ahead. "This sure is going to burn some midnight oil!"</p> + +<p>The young inventor worked all afternoon at a furious pace, breaking off +toward dinnertime to telephone his mother that he would be staying +overnight at the lab. After a hasty meal, he resumed his layout job at +the drawing board and by midnight had finished designing his quality +analyzer sonar.</p> + +<p>Whipping off his eyeshade, Tom went into the apartment next door and +stretched out to snatch a few hours' sleep. But as usual when in the +midst of an exciting new project, he was too keyed up to rest for long.</p> + +<p>Before daylight, Tom was back at his workbench ready to begin assembling +the units of his new sonar gear. Later he phoned Chow but scarcely +paused to eat when the cook arrived with his order.</p> + +<p>"Brand my solar stovepipe!" Chow scolded. "Take time to eat your vittles +properly, boss!"</p> + +<p>"Hmm?... Oh, sure." Tom looked up and grinned.</p> + +<p>The stout old Texan stomped out, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>As the morning wore on, the pace at which Tom had been working began to +tell on the young inventor. His head nodded again and again. Gradually +he fell forward into an exhausted doze.</p> + +<p>The next thing Tom knew, he was sailing through the air, high above +Swift Enterprises. Lake Carlopa was a tiny blue puddle below, and the +town of Shopton a mere cluster of toy buildings in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Good grief!" Tom exclaimed with a gulp. "What's keeping me up?"</p> + +<p>He was floating freely, without the support of any aircraft—or even one +of his amazing force-ray repelatrons!</p> + +<p>The discovery triggered off disaster. Like a character in a movie +cartoon, now that he knew he had nothing to support him, Tom instantly +went plunging downward—down, down, straight into the lake!</p> + +<p><i>Splash!</i></p> + +<p>Tom gasped and shuddered and shook his head like a drenched terrier.</p> + +<p><i>Another splash!</i> As Tom brought his eyes into focus, he realized he was +back at his workbench in the laboratory. Chow was standing in front of +him, holding a half-empty pail of water, ready to splash him again!</p> + +<p>"Hey! Cut it out!" Tom cried out, jerking bolt upright. Then, as he saw +the disturbed look on Chow's face, Tom burst out laughing. "Okay. Relax, +old-timer! Guess I was dreaming."</p> + +<p>"Brand my snake oil!" Chow said. "You looked so pale an' pasty, you had +me plumb scared, Tom! I couldn't wake you nohow!" Worriedly the cook +added, "What you need is a good beefsteak and some sunshine. You been +under water too long."</p> + +<p>"In more ways than one!" Tom chuckled as he grabbed a towel and dried +himself off.</p> + +<p>The beefsteak, with crisp golden-brown French fried potatoes, was +already at hand on Chow's lunch cart. Tom ate with a hearty appetite +and the stout chef went off, secretly plotting to arrange the second +half of his prescription.</p> + +<p>When he reached the galley, Chow plucked the wall phone off its hook and +called Bud at an airfield hangar. After a brisk conversation, he hung +up, grinning contentedly.</p> + +<p>At one o'clock Bud came bursting into Tom's laboratory. "Snap to, +skipper!" he announced. "You have company!"</p> + +<p>Tom looked up from his work in surprise.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ta-daaa!</i>" Bud sang out, imitating a trumpet flourish.</p> + +<p>Sandy and Phyl Newton marched in, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Boy, this <i>is</i> a surprise!" Tom got up to greet them. "A mighty +pleasant one. But what's the occasion?"</p> + +<p>"The occasion is that you're coming on a mountain hike with us, out in +the nice fresh air and sunshine!" Sandy informed him.</p> + +<p>"And please don't argue," Phyl said with a giggle. "It's for your own +good—not to mention ours."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Chow Winkler put you up to this." Tom grinned.</p> + +<p>"Never mind that," Sandy said sternly. "Just come along quietly. It's a +beautiful day."</p> + +<p>Tom glanced at his workbench cluttered with drawings and electronic +gear. "Well, okay, since you're twisting my arm," he agreed. "I guess it +might clear my brain at that."</p> + +<p>"Now you're talking." Bud clapped Tom on the back and propelled him +toward the two girls, who promptly seized his arms before he might +change his mind.</p> + +<p>On their way to the door, however, the telephone rang. Tom insisted upon +answering it, in spite of the girls' scolding.</p> + +<p>"Tom Swift Jr. talking."</p> + +<p>"This is Chief Slater, Tom," said the voice at the other end of the +line. "Dimitri Mirov wants to see you. I don't know what's up, but he +might be ready to tell something worth while. Could you drop by?"</p> + +<p>"Sure thing, Chief. Right away!" Tom hung up, excited by the thought +that the Brungarian might be about to reveal an important secret. "Mind +stopping by police headquarters first?" he asked his friends.</p> + +<p>Minutes later, Bud's red convertible pulled up in front of the gray +stone building. Tom jumped out and dashed up the granite steps.</p> + +<p>"I've had Mirov transferred to a cell by himself," Chief Slater said as +he took Tom back to see him. "Figured he might talk more freely away +from his pals."</p> + +<p>The prisoner, however, showed no eagerness to do so at Tom's arrival. He +remained slouched on his bunk as the young inventor pulled a chair up to +the cell bars. His only response was a slight curl of the lips.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard about my country's new submarine?" Mirov inquired after +Chief Slater left.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded curtly.</p> + +<p>"When are <i>you</i> going to build one?" Mirov prodded slyly.</p> + +<p>"Look!" Tom snapped. "You asked to see me. Here I am. What is it you +want?"</p> + +<p>Mirov shrugged with a look of amusement. "To make a bargain with you," +he replied casually. "I know the secret of that sub. Get me and my +friends released and I'll give it to you."</p> + +<p>Tom had no intention of doing so, but he parried the offer, hoping to +draw Mirov out further. The prisoner, however, would say nothing more.</p> + +<p>At last Tom gave up and rose to leave. "I'll think over your +proposition," he said.</p> + +<p>He heard Mirov chuckle as he walked away. Somewhat puzzled, Tom reported +the conversation to Chief Slater and also telephoned the plant to inform +Ames.</p> + +<p>Then he hurried back to the car. Bud frowned upon hearing Tom's story.</p> + +<p>"Do you think he's on the level?"</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged as they headed out into the countryside. "I may be wrong, +but the whole thing sounded fishy."</p> + +<p>"Now look!" Sandy said severely. "If we're going to enjoy this hike, +we're <i>not</i> going to talk about Brungarians or inventions or that lost +missile. From now on, it will cost anyone five cents every time he +breaks the rule!"</p> + +<p>The boys chuckled and agreed. But agreeing proved easier than keeping +the rule. Again and again, either Tom or Bud would inadvertently drop a +remark about their submarine experiments or the search in the South +Atlantic. By the time they had parked in the hills and started climbing, +Sandy's and Phyl's pockets were jingling with coins.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with it all?" Bud asked jokingly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Give it to us!</i>" snapped a strange voice.</p> + +<p>As the four young people turned with a start, they saw two men burst +from the shrubbery just behind them.</p> + +<p>Both were holding guns!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>THE GUNMAN'S SURPRISE</b></p> + + +<p>Sandy and Phyl were terrified by the sudden appearance of the +rough-looking pair with their drawn revolvers. Tom and Bud remained +cool, eying the men warily.</p> + +<p>"What's the big idea?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"Shut up and hoist your mitts!" the bigger of the men snarled. As the +boys obeyed, he muttered to his partner, "Keep these two punks covered, +Mugs, while I take their cash!"</p> + +<p>"Right, Packy! I'll watch 'em!"</p> + +<p>Sandy and Phyl emptied their pockets. Then Packy took the boys' wallets +and change.</p> + +<p>"Now turn around and march!" Packy snapped.</p> + +<p>Bud took the lead, followed by the two girls, with Tom bringing up the +rear. They plodded up the brushy slope in silence for several minutes. +Presently a weather-beaten cabin in a grove of trees came into view.</p> + +<p>"You intend to hold us there?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>"You'll find out soon enough!" Packy answered. "We'll teach you to +interfere with the Mirovs!"</p> + +<p><i>The Mirovs!</i> Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the whole picture suddenly +fell into place. It was clear to Tom now how the capture had been +arranged.</p> + +<p>The call to the jail from Dimitri Mirov had been a hoax. Its purpose had +really been to get Tom away from Enterprises—thus giving the two thugs +a starting point from which to follow him. The mountain hike, organized +by Bud and the girls, had played right into their hands! As Tom sized up +the situation, seeking a way out, the group reached the cabin.</p> + +<p>"What are your terms for letting us go?" Tom asked their captors, +stalling for time.</p> + +<p>The man named Packy gave an ugly chuckle. "None yet," he said. "We may +just decide to set the cabin on fire."</p> + +<p>Sandy uttered a gasp as his words sank home. Phyl Newton had turned +deathly pale. Packy now told his partner to unlock the cabin. Mugs +stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>At that moment Tom caught Bud's eye. <i>It was now or never!</i></p> + +<p>Tom whirled and smashed a stiff handblow to Packy's wrist, knocking the +gun from his hand. Bud hurled himself on Mugs.</p> + +<p>Taken off guard, the shorter thug staggered and went down under a hail +of punches. Bud grabbed his wrist and twisted it mercilessly while he +pinned him to the ground.</p> + +<p>Mugs screeched with pain. "C-c-cut it out!"</p> + +<p>"Then drop your gun!" Bud snapped.</p> + +<p>Tom, meanwhile, had followed up his first advantage with a stunning blow +to the solar plexus. Packy grunted for breath, then came back viciously +with several well-aimed punches that staggered Tom.</p> + +<p>As the young inventor stumbled backward, Packy dived for his gun. Though +still groggy, Tom managed to kick the weapon out of reach. Before Packy +could straighten up, Tom followed with a sweeping uppercut that caught +him squarely on the chin.</p> + +<p>Packy went down like a felled tree!</p> + +<p>Tom picked up the gun before his groaning victim could recover. By this +time, Bud had pounded his own opponent into submission. Within a few +moments, both thugs were lined up against the wall of the cabin. Their +wrists were tightly strapped behind them with their own belts.</p> + +<p>"Oh ... thank goodness!" Sandy gasped.</p> + +<p>Tom gave the girls a reassuring grin. "Are you two all right?"</p> + +<p>"I g-guess so." Phyl gave a nervous smile.</p> + +<p>Now that the tables were turned, it was the thugs' turn to "march." +The boys herded them warily back down the hillside toward the road, +where Bud had parked his red convertible. Sandy and Phyl followed close +behind.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus010.jpg" alt="thugs" /> +</p> + + +<p>Like all cars belonging to the Swifts' key personnel, Bud's was equipped +with a two-way shortwave radio. Tom switched it on and radioed Shopton +Police Headquarters. Chief Slater promised to send a squad car at once.</p> + +<p>Minutes later, they heard it approaching. Two husky police officers +leaped out as the car braked to a halt, and took charge of the +prisoners. Scowling and sullen, they were driven off to jail.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bud jokingly, "what about that relaxing hike we were +starting?"</p> + +<p>Phyl sighed. "I'm afraid you two boys just can't get away from +<i>in</i>ventions and <i>ad</i>ventures."</p> + +<p>Sandy added, "I suggest we go home for a nice safe dinner."</p> + +<p>Later, at the Swifts' house, Tom received a telephone call from Chief +Slater. He reported that the two prisoners were known hoodlums from a +nearby city.</p> + +<p>"They claim they were hired for this job last night by a stranger who +spoke with an accent," Slater went on. "According to their story, they +never even got a look at his face, and they had no idea he was an enemy +agent."</p> + +<p>"Sounds reasonable," Tom agreed. "It's not likely Mirov's Brungarian +henchmen would endanger their whole setup by taking any cheap gunmen +into their confidence."</p> + +<p>Chief Slater also reported that Len Unger was still at large. "But the +FBI will probably pick him up soon," he added.</p> + +<p>"I sure hope so," Tom said.</p> + +<p>A ten-hour sleep that night proved a fine tonic. Tom awoke the next +morning feeling entirely refreshed, and after a hearty breakfast, +hurried off to the plant. Here he plunged into work on his quality +analyzer sonar.</p> + +<p>Much of the circuitry was assigned to the electronics department. The +finished boards and sub-assemblies were fed back to Tom in his private +laboratory. He himself assembled the major units.</p> + +<p>At lunchtime, over a bowl of chili and crackers, Tom recalled another +problem. "We'll need an undetectable sub to test my analyzer," he mused. +"That means a repeat job of rigging all those transducers. Whew! I'd +better get busy on that plastic sheathing."</p> + +<p>As soon as he had eaten, Tom phoned Arv Hanson, who arrived at the lab +in a few moments.</p> + +<p>"You remember that idea I mentioned to Danny about molding all the +transducers into a single continuous plastic sheet?" As Arv nodded, Tom +went on, "Let's try it, using Tomasite as the plastic."</p> + +<p>Tom picked up a pencil and quickly sketched out the production steps. +By machine-spacing the transmitting and the receiving transducers as +closely together as possible, with minimum clearance, the plastic +coating could do an even better job of absorbing sonar pings than the +hand-rigged model.</p> + +<p>"And the leads from all the transducers can be combined into a single +flat tape," Tom ended. "That'll make it simple to hook up with the +electronic control unit inside."</p> + +<p>"Got it, skipper," Arv said tersely. "It'll take overtime to set up the +job in the plastics department. But we ought to be rolling out the +sheeting Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"That's swell, Arv! Thanks!"</p> + +<p>By midmorning Tuesday, Tom had his quality analyzer sonar completed and +was showing Bud how the units worked.</p> + +<p>"Boy, it looks simple enough the way you explain it, prof!" Bud said +admiringly. "How soon can we try it?"</p> + +<p>"Depends on Arv," Tom replied. He picked up the phone and called the +plastics department. To his delight, the sheathing was already being +rolled out in quantity. Arv promised that by noon he would have enough +of it available to coat a jetmarine.</p> + +<p>"Nice going!" Tom said. "Shoot it out to the cargo-jet hangar as soon as +it's ready!"</p> + +<p>Soon after lunch, Tom, Bud, and Arv took off for Fearing Island. When +they arrived at the base, the plastic coating with its myriad tiny +"mikes" and "speakers" was speedily applied to a jetmarine under Arv's +supervision. Tom, meanwhile, wired the control unit and also installed +the analyzer sonar in the <i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>"Want to be 'It' for another underwater game of hide-and-seek?" Tom +asked Bud with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Sure, but don't tag me with a torpedo!"</p> + +<p>Minutes later, the jetmarine slipped off into the depths with Bud and +two other crewmen aboard. Tom and Arv followed in the seacopter. The +quality analyzer sonar worked even better than Tom had hoped. He not +only tracked the jetmarine on its outward course, but located it three +different times after shutting off the analyzer long enough for Bud to +seek a new location.</p> + +<p>"How'd you like to relieve Hank in the South Atlantic?" Tom asked Bud +upon their return.</p> + +<p>Bud gave a whoop of excitement. "Roger!"</p> + +<p>Tom slapped him on the back. "You can take off as soon as your ship's +provisioned. I'll join you later—but first," Tom added mysteriously, "I +have another job to attend to."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>A MISSING AMULET</b></p> + + + +<p>Bud's curiosity was instantly aroused. "Don't tell me you have a new +trick up your nautical sleeve to fox the Brungarians?"</p> + +<p>Tom grinned. "That's the general idea. I hope to give hydrolung divers +the same protection that your jetmarine has."</p> + +<p>"You mean make them invisible to sonar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Tom replied, "and also give them personal spy gear to probe the +waters around them and spot an 'undetectable' enemy."</p> + +<p>Bud whistled. "Do that, and I'll say you're <i>really</i> a magician, +skipper!"</p> + +<p>Tom himself transferred the analyzer from the <i>Sea Hound</i> to Bud's +jetmarine. On a chance that it might become necessary to operate at +greater depths—either in searching for the lost missile or in shadowing +the enemy—Tom also assigned Arv Hanson the job of rigging the <i>Sea +Hound</i> and another seacopter with his new inventions.</p> + +<p>Four crewmen volunteered for the cruise. When the jetmarine was ready, +Tom and Bud exchanged tight handshakes.</p> + +<p>"Good luck!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Tom."</p> + +<p>The young inventor waved as Bud disappeared down the hatch. As soon as +the craft had submerged, Tom went back to Shopton. That evening the +Swifts were enjoying a quiet dinner at home when a loud, growling buzz +shattered their mealtime conversation.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Sandy gasped. "The burglar alarm!"</p> + +<p>The Swifts' house and grounds were protected by a secret magnetic field. +Any intruder breaking the barrier touched off the automatic alarm +system. To avoid the buzzing, the family and their close friends wore +wrist watches containing tiny neutralizer coils.</p> + +<p>"I'll see who it is," Tom said, and hurried to the door, feeling a +twinge of apprehension.</p> + +<p><i>Was this a new attempt by Brungarian agents?</i></p> + +<p>He switched on the porch light and peered out cautiously through the +one-way glass pane in the door. A slim, hatless figure in a dark suit +was just coming up the steps. Tom gave a smile of relief.</p> + +<p>It was Harlan Ames!</p> + +<p>"Hi, Harlan!" Tom opened the door before Ames had a chance to ring the +doorbell. "We heard you coming!"</p> + +<p>The security chief was startled when he realized he had activated the +alarm system.</p> + +<p>"That's strange," he said uneasily. "Tom, I wonder if—"</p> + +<p>He broke off to dart a quick glance at his wrist. Then his face relaxed +into a look of chagrin.</p> + +<p>"Great! I forgot my wrist watch!" he murmured. "Haven't visited your +house in so long I neglected to wear it."</p> + +<p>The other Swifts smiled in amused relief, and Mrs. Swift invited him to +join them for dessert. Ames, however, declined politely.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I just finished dinner myself," he explained. "I dropped +by to—"</p> + +<p>Once again Ames's voice trailed off in midsentence, as he reached into +the side pocket of his coat.</p> + +<p>"My amulet!" he gasped. "It's gone!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" Tom said with quick concern.</p> + +<p>Ames nodded as he frantically tried all his other pockets. The +electronic amulet to which he referred had been issued to all +Enterprises personnel and family visitors who used the private gate. The +amulets were contained in slender bracelets and were designed to trap +radar impulses. This prevented them from showing up as blips on the +giant detector radarscope mounted on the main building. The purpose of +the scope was to reveal unauthorized visitors or spies.</p> + +<p>"My bracelet broke this afternoon," Ames said. "I slipped it into my +pocket to have it repaired. But it's not there now!"</p> + +<p>Tom grabbed a flashlight and dashed outside for a hasty check of the +walk. Ames followed, to look inside his black sedan. But the amulet did +not come to light.</p> + +<p>"Did you go home after you left the plant today?" Tom asked.</p> + +<p>Ames shook his head worriedly. "No, I stopped at a restaurant. Mind if I +use your phone?"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead."</p> + +<p>The security chief called Enterprises and asked his assistant, Phil +Radnor, who was on night duty, to make a thorough search. While awaiting +the results, Ames also called the restaurant, but learned that no such +item had been turned in.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Radnor called back to report no luck. "The amulet may +show up yet, Harlan," he said. "But I'll alert the guards at the plant +to be on the lookout for an unauthorized visitor."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Phil." Ames hung up and turned away from the telephone with an +embarrassed look. "Fine example I'm setting as head of plant security," +he murmured. "Let's hope the amulet wasn't stolen."</p> + +<p>Excusing themselves from Mrs. Swift and Sandy, Tom Sr. and Jr. retired +with Ames to Mr. Swift's study to discuss the news he had brought.</p> + +<p>"I had a late call from Admiral Walter this evening," Ames explained. +"The Navy's getting pretty desperate over that lost missile. They're +ready to co-operate with any moves you care to make. I take it you're +prepared to carry out a search on your own, Tom?"</p> + +<p>The young inventor nodded. "Yes, as soon as I've perfected all the gear +I'll need—which won't be long, I hope."</p> + +<p>Ames added, unhappily, that certain papers and news commentators had +been making snide remarks about the Swifts' failure to match the +Brungarians' submarine achievement.</p> + +<p>"I think Tom has that situation pretty well in hand," Mr. Swift remarked +with a smile.</p> + +<p>Tom gave Ames a full report on his own apparatus for rendering a +submarine invisible to underwater detection. Ames grinned at the news. +The grin grew even wider as he heard of the successful test of the +quality analyzer sonar.</p> + +<p>"Bud Barclay's on his way to the South Atlantic right now with a fully +equipped jetmarine," Tom ended.</p> + +<p>The next morning he eagerly tackled the job of adding sonar protection +and sonar detection features to his electronic hydrolung. What an +amazing fish man the wearer would be, Tom thought, if his project +succeeded!</p> + +<p>It would enable a skin diver to operate indefinitely under water at +jet-propelled speed—invisible to enemy "eyes," yet be able to spy out +any hostile undersea prowlers, including supposedly "undetectable" +submarines!</p> + +<p>Tom chuckled wryly as he mulled over the difficulties ahead. "Bud wasn't +kidding when he said it would take a magician!"</p> + +<p>Besides his mask, electronic breathing device, density-control unit, and +ion drive, the wearer would now need at least three major +additions—first, sonar-blinding equipment with electronic control; +second, amplifying equipment to camouflage the wearer's noise under +water; and, third, a portable quality analyzer sonar.</p> + +<p>"Whew! The miniaturizing job alone will be a king-sized headache!" Tom +said to himself. "I'd better start with a skin-diving suit made of that +molded plastic Arv is turning out."</p> + +<p>After having some of the Tomasite sheathing, with its embedding +transducers, sent over from the plastics department, Tom cut out a suit +from a pattern and welded the seams electronically. He had just finished +wiring the control unit when Chow wheeled in a lunch cart.</p> + +<p>"Got some <i>dee</i>licious steak-and-kidney pie today," the cook announced, +setting it out.</p> + +<p>"Swell," Tom said absent-mindedly.</p> + +<p>Chow frowned but left without interrupting the young inventor. Twenty +minutes later the cook poked his head into the laboratory again. Tom had +not yet touched his lunch.</p> + +<p>"Brand my vitaminnies, start eatin', boss!"</p> + +<p>"Sure, Chow."</p> + +<p>By this time, however, Tom had become so absorbed in the task of +assembling some tiny monolithic blocks for the computer circuits of his +analyzer, that the lunch remained untasted. When Chow returned a third +time, Tom was startled by his bellow:</p> + +<p>"Get your nose out o' that work, buckaroo, and <i>eat</i>!"</p> + +<p>Realizing Tom's pie had cooled off, Chow had brought another serving, +hot from the oven. Seeing the stern look on the Texan's face, Tom burst +out laughing and obeyed meekly.</p> + +<p>"I declare!" Chow chuckled. "One o' these days I'll have to force-feed +you if you won't pay no mind to your own nourishment!"</p> + +<p>"Sorry, old-timer." Tom smiled. "Sometimes I do get a bit wrapped up, I +guess."</p> + +<p>Hour after hour, Tom stayed glued to his workbench, sometimes busy with +delicate electronic gear, sometimes lost in thought as he pondered a +tricky problem in circuit design. It was long after dark when he drove +home from the experimental station, yet he was back on the job in his +laboratory early the next morning.</p> + +<p>By lunchtime Tom had all the apparatus assembled. He was just trying on +the plastic suit, with all its accompanying paraphernalia, when Chow +made his usual appearance.</p> + +<p>"Great sufferin' snakes!" the cook gasped. "You ain't goin' divin' in +<i>that</i> getup, I hope! You look like a Christmas tree, boss!"</p> + +<p>Tom nodded glumly. "Know something, Chow? That's just what I was +thinking myself."</p> + +<p>The young inventor's suit was loaded down with the various electronic +units and festooned with wires. Even taking a few steps around the lab +convinced Tom that the design was too unwieldy.</p> + +<p>"I'd probably either get tangled in seaweed or sink from sheer weight," +he muttered.</p> + +<p>Changing back to his slacks and T shirt, Tom began eating abstractedly +as Chow hovered around.</p> + +<p>"If fishes could talk, I reckon you'd scare 'em half to death in that +rig!" Chow said, trying to cheer Tom.</p> + +<p>"Fish do talk," the young inventor said. "At least they make noises. +Don't you remember that emergency fish-talk code we used when we were—"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tom paused, his mouth dropping open. "<i>Chow!</i> You've just +solved my problem!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I have?" Chow goggled at the young inventor.</p> + +<p>"You sure have!" Tom bounced off his stool and began pacing about. "Now, +take porpoises. They utter all sorts of sounds—grunts, squeals, +jawclaps—and one particularly characteristic sound, like the grating of +a rusty hinge."</p> + +<p>Chow scratched his chin uncertainly. "Wal, what about it?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose I used that rusty-hinge noise to mask the diver's noise." Tom +turned and stabbed the air with his finger. "I could <i>also</i> use that +same sound output as the search pulse for my quality analyzer sonar!"</p> + +<p>In this way, Tom explained, he could eliminate part of his bulky +equipment and do an even better job of making the diver "invisible."</p> + +<p>Bubbling with enthusiasm, Tom decided to buy a live porpoise at once and +make an exact recording of its sounds. As soon as he had finished lunch, +he put in a number of calls to suppliers of marine specimens. But none +could provide a porpoise on short notice.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll have to catch one myself!" Tom told Chow.</p> + +<p>He drove out to the airfield and took off in a Whirling Duck for Fearing +Island. At the base, both Mel Flagler and Zimby Cox were eager to +accompany the young inventor when he told them about the trip he had in +mind.</p> + +<p>Tom chose the <i>Sea Hound</i> as the fastest and best suited craft for his +purpose. With Mel's and Zimby's help, he quickly rigged a plastic "tank" +in the stern cabin. Minutes later, the seacopter zoomed skyward, heading +for the Florida Keys.</p> + +<p>The flight was a short one at transonic speed. Tom chose a sparkling +stretch of open water, a mile or so offshore from a palm-green islet. +Zimby agreed to stay aboard and tend ship while Tom and Mel went over +the side in hydrolungs.</p> + +<p>The two glided about in the translucent blue depths, keeping in close +range of each other. The sea was alive with shimmering fish of every +hue, darting among the coral. Suddenly, as Tom veered around to rejoin +Mel, his eyes widened in horror.</p> + +<p>A vicious-looking hammerhead shark was zeroing in, directly behind his +friend!</p> + +<p>"Look out!" Tom yelled over his microphone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>SMILEY THE SEA COW</b></p> + + + +<p>Mel turned in the nick of time. The monster shark was bearing down on +him like an undersea express train. Overcoming a moment of panic, Mel +gunned his ion drive to dodge the attack.</p> + +<p>As Tom watched in agonized suspense, he saw the shark's jaws open and +shut in a lightning snap at Mel's outstretched arm. Its razor-sharp +teeth missed their target by inches!</p> + +<p>Mel's gasp of relief was audible over Tom's earphones. "Let's get out of +here!" he cried, arrowing away from the man-killer.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tom realized the full extent of their peril. A long, sweeping +coral reef, which extended above water, lay between them and the <i>Sea +Hound</i>. Unless they could round the reef in time, the shark had them +trapped!</p> + +<p>"Quick! This way!" Tom exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The shark was moving at blinding speed. As if sensing the boys' plan of +escape, it launched itself in a wide curving sweep to cut them off.</p> + +<p>"We can't make it!" Tom gasped. "We'll have to fight!"</p> + +<p>Both swimmers were armed with skin diver's knives as a precaution. The +two maneuvered to meet the killer's onslaught.</p> + +<p>This time its broad nightmarish head was aiming straight at Tom. He +jetted off to the right, but the monster veered instantly. Its lashing +tail gave Mel a stunning blow.</p> + +<p>As the shark's jaws gaped for a bite, Tom zoomed underneath the +man-eater and slashed its belly with his knife.</p> + +<p>The shark, maddened, thrashed the water in a frenzy. Tom moved like +lightning to dodge a deadly blow from its bony tail. Again and again +they felt the horrifying brush of the killer's fins or armor-tough hide. +By this time, Mel had revived. Repeatedly the two boys dived to jab and +slash at the shark's soft underbelly.</p> + +<p>Both were nearly exhausted when the monster at last went limp and +floated slowly up toward the surface. Pale with shock and fright, Tom +and Mel jetted back to the <i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>Zimby Cox was startled by their faces when they clambered aboard and +ripped off their masks. "What happened to you two?"</p> + +<p>Tom told him. "Good night!" Zimby cried out.</p> + +<p>After resting, Tom and Mel dived in again. This time luck was with +them. In less than twenty minutes they sighted a small porpoise.</p> + +<p>"Think we can lure it back toward the <i>Sea Hound</i>?" Mel queried.</p> + +<p>"We'll try," Tom replied.</p> + +<p>The creature with the bottle-shaped snout was as friendly and playful as +most of its fellow dolphins. Too playful, Tom concluded, after vainly +trying to tease it into chasing them. Instead of following, it would +"tag" Tom or Mel quickly, then swim away, evidently expecting to be +chased in turn!</p> + +<p>"I give up!" Mel snorted in disgust.</p> + +<p>Tom grinned and bobbed to the surface. He waved his hand several times +in a prearranged signal. Zimby at last spotted him and brought the <i>Sea +Hound</i> to the scene.</p> + +<p>Raising his mask, Tom called, "Let's have the net!"</p> + +<p>Zimby lowered a nylon net and some pieces of fish to the two swimmers as +they came alongside. With the food as bait they tried to lure the +porpoise to the seacopter. But just as they thought they had it, the +monster would scoot off.</p> + +<p>"It's just laughing at us!" Mel fumed.</p> + +<p>At last, after winning its confidence with several bits of fish, the +boys succeeded in snaring the porpoise. Tom clambered onto the <i>Sea +Hound</i>'s deck and helped Zimby haul their catch aboard. "Quacking" +reproachfully, it was lowered through the hatch and placed in the tank, +which was then pumped full of salt water.</p> + +<p>As soon as the <i>Sea Hound</i> arrived at Fearing, Tom phoned Chow Winkler +at Enterprises and asked him to fly out to the base.</p> + +<p>"Pardner, how'd you like to ride herd on this critter and gentle it down +for me?" Tom asked, when he showed Chow the porpoise.</p> + +<p>It had been transferred to a huge, glass-paneled tank which had been set +up just outside Tom's Fearing Island laboratory during his flight to the +Florida Keys.</p> + +<p>"Reckon I kin try makin' friends with it," Chow declared.</p> + +<p>The porpoise stared morosely at Chow. The kindly old Texan's heart was +touched by the odd creature. To his delight, it soon responded to his +friendly overtures and quickly recovered its good nature. By the next +morning the porpoise was playing catch with Chow, or else swimming over +to have its back scratched. The cook named it Smiley.</p> + +<p>"She's kind of a sea cow," he told Tom, "and you got to talk to my +Smiley like any cow!" Tom grinned and refrained from explaining to Chow +that a real "sea cow" was a walrus.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the young inventor was busy with his own experiments. By +means of a microphone placed in the tank, he made exact recordings of +Smiley's "talk." Using Mel Flagler as a subject, Tom also tape-recorded +the sound of a skin diver propelled through the water by ion drive.</p> + +<p>The next step was to compare the sound pattern of the tapes. Tom +filtered out the difference in the two sounds with the correlation +calculator unit of one of his quality analyzer sonars.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. So you got the difference betwixt Smiley's talk an' the noise +Mel made," muttered Chow as he watched the jagged lines of light +flashing on the pulse-check oscilloscope. "Now what're you fixin' to do +with it?"</p> + +<p>"This will be fed into the diver's sonar along with his own noise +output," Tom said, "to make him sound like a porpoise."</p> + +<p>Chow howled. "That I've got to hear!"</p> + +<p>The young inventor worked feverishly throughout the day and into the +next, perfecting his new "porpoise sonar." Using microelectronic +components, he was able to reduce all the units to amazingly small size.</p> + +<p>Next, Tom began tailoring himself a completely new skin-diving suit. +Mask, ion-drive jet, and the various hydrolung units were molded into +the plastic, with no loose wires or tubes showing.</p> + +<p>Monday morning he was ready to try the outfit. The sonarscope with its +tiny viewing screen was strapped to his left forearm. Another small unit +was fastened to the inside of his wrist, with four plungers in +finger-tip reach.</p> + +<p>"What in tarnation's that?" Chow asked.</p> + +<p>"Simplified controls," Tom explained. "One's for breathing adjustment, +one's for the density unit, one is my ion-drive 'throttle,' and this +last is for the sonar pulse—which will duplicate the porpoise sound."</p> + +<p>The suit worked perfectly in a tank test. Chow was amazed as he listened +to Tom gliding about, via an underwater microphone.</p> + +<p>"If that don't beat all!" he declared. "Can't tell the difference 'twixt +you an' Smiley!"</p> + +<p>As Tom emerged from the tank, the portly cook rolled up his own pantlegs +and waddled up the metal ladder to the tank brim. He summoned the +porpoise with a whistle and straddled its back.</p> + +<p>"What in the name of aquanautics do you think <i>you're</i> doing?" Tom +gasped.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you a real broncobustin' act in the water," Chow bragged.</p> + +<p>Smiley glided off gently at first, Chow fanning the air with his hat and +yipping like a rodeo star. He did, in fact, cling to his slippery perch +with considerable skill.</p> + +<p>But suddenly Smiley began bobbing and humping like an eel. Chow's face +froze in alarm. A moment later the porpoise dived and the cook let out a +yell of terror, "He-e-elp!"</p> + +<p>Roaring with laughter, Tom dived in and rescued him. "Guess he ain't +quite broke yet, pardner!"</p> + +<p>"Reckon not."</p> + +<p>Now that Tom had all his technical problems solved, he plunged eagerly +into the job of fitting out his expedition to the South Atlantic to +search for the lost Jupiter missile.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus012.jpg" alt="dolphin" /> +</p> + +<p>Besides the <i>Sea Hound</i> and the other diving seacopter which had already +been rigged with antisonar and antidetection equipment, Tom ordered a +large cargo jetmarine to be similarly equipped.</p> + +<p>Then he drew up a list of supplies and underwater search gear needed +for the missile hunt. Tom phoned orders to a dozen different +departments. Food, space-plant pills, extra clothing, tools, including a +midget atomic earth blaster, grappling hooks—nothing was overlooked.</p> + +<p>"I'd better take along a Damonscope too," Tom reflected. "Judging by +those Navy reports, ordinary Geiger counters haven't revealed anything."</p> + +<p>Tom's Damonscope, one of his early inventions, was a photographic device +which worked on fluorescent principles. It was amazingly sensitive to +any form of radioactivity—and the missile, of course, would be "hot" +from exposure to cosmic rays.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Tom had ordered his new hydrolung suit, with its four-plunger +control unit and porpoise sonar, to be flown back to Enterprises. Arv +Hanson had promised to make up several duplicates with a team of +technicians working on all-night shifts.</p> + +<p>Late the next afternoon Tom returned to the mainland to confer with his +father. Mr. Swift reviewed the expedition plans with approval.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we call Admiral Walter now and set a time for the Navy to move +out of the missile area, so you can take over," his father said.</p> + +<p>Tom agreed, and his father placed the long-distance call to Washington. +Moments later, Admiral Walter came on the line. Mr. Swift talked to him +briefly, then turned the phone over to Tom, who described his +preparations for the missile hunt. A time schedule of operations and +communications was quickly laid out.</p> + +<p>The admiral was amazed to learn that Bud Barclay was already patrolling +the area. "Our ships haven't seen or heard him!" the officer exclaimed. +Suddenly Admiral Walter broke off. "Hold it, please, Tom! A code call is +just coming in!"</p> + +<p>His voice was grave as he returned to the Swifts' line. "That message +was from your friend, Bud Barclay," Admiral Walter reported. "It looks +as if our enemy has found the missile!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" Tom groaned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>FLASH FROM THE DEPTHS</b></p> + + + +<p>Tom was stunned by the news. "There's no chance of a mistake?"</p> + +<p>"Judge for yourself," Admiral Walter replied. He read the message:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>HAVE JUST SIGHTED ENEMY CRAFT DREDGING OUT METAL OBJECT</p></div> + +<p>Tom repeated the information to his father. Both Swifts were silent for +a moment, exchanging dejected looks. Then Mr. Swift remarked evenly:</p> + +<p>"The game's never lost till it's over, son."</p> + +<p>"You're right, Dad!" Tom exclaimed. Turning back to the telephone, he +said, "Admiral, I'm not quitting. We'll take off as soon as I can get +back to the base!"</p> + +<p>With a hasty good-by to his father, and farewells to his mother, Sandy, +and Phyl by phone, Tom dashed out of the building. He sped to Arv +Hanson's workshop, and the new hydrolung suits were loaded onto a small +pickup truck and taken to the airfield. While flying back to Fearing +Island in a helijet, Tom received a radio flash from his father.</p> + +<p>"Another message from Bud. He says the object dug up by the Brungarians +was <i>not</i> the missile. It appeared to be the metal section of a ship's +prow, from some hulk buried in the silt!"</p> + +<p>Tom was jubilant. "Terrific news, Dad! Our luck may be turning!"</p> + +<p>At the rocket base Tom detailed crews for the three undersea craft which +were to take off on the expedition. Arv Hanson would captain one +seacopter, Mel Flagler the jetmarine, while Zimby Cox, Chow, and four +crewmen would accompany Tom in the <i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>Because of their sonar-blinding systems, Tom realized there was a chance +of the ships losing contact with one another—especially if their +analyzer sonars developed trouble. He therefore plotted their course to +the South Atlantic carefully, and issued orders for the antidetection +circuits to be switched off every half-hour for a position check.</p> + +<p>"Report to your ships," he now ordered.</p> + +<p>As Tom was about to leave base headquarters, Harlan Ames telephoned from +Shopton. "Bad news, Tom. Dimitri Mirov has broken jail!"</p> + +<p>"Good night!" Tom stifled a groan of dismay. "How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>Ames said the Brungarian had somehow fashioned a crude weapon and +overpowered the turnkey. Disguising himself in the guard's uniform, he +had slipped out before his victim was discovered.</p> + +<p>"He must have had outside help within close call," Ames ended, "because +he seems to have made a clean getaway. The State Police have spread a +dragnet, but it doesn't look hopeful."</p> + +<p>"He'll probably duck out of the country pronto," Tom surmised. "Anyhow, +this won't stop us, Harlan."</p> + +<p>By nightfall the little fleet of three undersea craft was speeding +southward at periscope depth. Tom alternated at the controls with Zimby, +two hours on and two hours off. Sleep came in snatches, the crewmen +flopping on their bunks as the chance offered. Chow's tasty meals helped +break the monotony.</p> + +<p>It was the following day when they reached the missile search area. Tom +surfaced the <i>Sea Hound</i> and reversed blade pitch, then gunned the rotor +turbines for an aerial reconnaissance flight, while the jetmarine and the +other seacopter stood by in the water.</p> + +<p>"Brand my guppies, it's some ocean, eh, boss?" Chow remarked in an awed +voice.</p> + +<p>"Big enough, all right," Tom agreed with a grin. "And plenty of water to +search in."</p> + +<p>"No sign of the Navy," Zimby said.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded. "They pulled out on schedule."</p> + +<p>"What about them Brungarian sidewinders?" put in Chow.</p> + +<p>"That's the question!" Tom swooped down to rejoin the other two craft. +"We'll keep an eye out for enemy blips while we do our prospecting."</p> + +<p>Rather than lose time trying to contact Bud, Tom decided to let him find +the <i>Sea Hound</i>. Accordingly, he switched off the antidetection system +and ordered all ships to submerge. Arv's seacopter and Mel's jetmarine +were to maintain close formation and stand guard while Tom's craft did +the actual searching.</p> + +<p>Now the missile hunt began. Tom had plotted a concentric search pattern, +focused on the probable position worked out by the task-force computers. +After checking his fix on the automatic navigator, Tom switched on the +Damonscope and steered the <i>Sea Hound</i> on a gradually circling course.</p> + +<p>The Damonscope was mounted in a blister on the hull, its camera lens +pointing toward the ocean floor. The automatic developing film would +record any trace of fluorescence, and a red light would signal this +result to the pilot's cabin.</p> + +<p>Minutes went by as the <i>Sea Hound</i> nosed +slowly along through the gray-green gloom, its sister craft flanking it +a hundred yards on either side. They were moving only a fathom or so +above the bottom.</p> + +<p>"A blip at eleven o'clock!" the sonarman called out suddenly. Tom's +pulse quickened. "Moving straight toward us," the sonarman added.</p> + +<p>Tom surrendered the controls to Zimby long enough to dart over and study +the sonarscope. "I've a hunch it's Bud," he told the others.</p> + +<p>His guess proved correct when the unmistakable outline of a jetmarine +loomed into view. Tom flicked on the search beam for a moment, and Bud +could be seen waving through the cabin window. Then the yellow glare +went off, and Bud's jetmarine glided away to take up a scouting position +ahead of the <i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>An hour went by, then another. Suddenly a flash of light stabbed through +the murk from dead ahead.</p> + +<p>"It's a signal from Bud!" Zimby exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Tom nodded grimly. "He's spotted trouble—probably an enemy sub." +Silence settled over the cabin as Tom reached out to switch on the +antisonar circuits.</p> + +<p>At that same instant a red light flashed on the control panel. "The +Damonscope!" Tom cried out. "We may be over the Jupiter prober!"</p> + +<p>Cutting off the steering jets, Tom gave a brief flick on the reverse +jets to halt the craft. Then he turned over the controls to Zimby and +began stripping down to don a hydrolung suit.</p> + +<p>"Gallopin' guppies! What're you aimin' to do?" Chow exploded.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus013.jpg" alt="dive" /> +</p> + +<p>"Go out and look for that missile," Tom said calmly. "It's what we came +for."</p> + +<p>"Are you loco, boss? What about that sub Bud just spotted? Mebbe it's +Mirov's bunch!"</p> + +<p>Tom refused to be dissuaded. After swallowing a space-plant pill, he +armed himself with an underwater flashlight.</p> + +<p>"Think it's safe to show that light, skipper?" a crewman asked uneasily.</p> + +<p>"If the enemy spots it, I'm hoping they'll think it's coming from a +school of lantern fish or sea anglers," Tom explained. He picked up a +three-pronged digging fork with his other hand and went out through the +air lock.</p> + +<p>Tom glided back to the spot which the <i>Sea Hound</i> had just passed over +and began digging into the silt. Presently he felt the fork strike +something hard.</p> + +<p>"An obstruction!" Tom thought excitedly.</p> + +<p>He probed deeper. Bit by bit, a smoothly contoured and still-shiny metal +surface became visible. "I've found it!" Tom's eyes flashed in triumph, +his heart pounding.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt he had uncovered the nose cone of the missile which +had re-entered the earth's atmosphere tailfirst!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Bud, keeping watch on the enemy submarine, had seen a shadowy +figure glide from its air lock and head in Tom's direction. Bud donned a +hydrolung and followed.</p> + +<p>"What's that he's carrying?" Bud wondered.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the answer came to him—a self-propelled underwater grenade! +Horrified, Bud jetted forward, tackling the diver at full speed.</p> + +<p>A split second too late! The grenade went streaking straight toward Tom +Swift!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a><b>CHAPTER XX</b></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>A LUCKY BLAST</b></p> + + + +<p>Tom's earphones caught the hiss of the approaching grenade. Instantly +his eyes darted to the sonarscope on his wrist.</p> + +<p>A tiny blip of light was moving on the screen!</p> + +<p>Tom whirled about, then gunned his ion drive. He pushed out of the path +of the grenade, which nevertheless grazed him as it streaked past.</p> + +<p>Seconds later, the grenade struck bottom. A shattering <i>bo-o-oom</i> +reverberated through the depths, and clouds of silt darkened the water +into Stygian gloom.</p> + +<p>Tom, knocked off balance, was tumbled about helplessly by the train of +shock waves. As they died away, he gradually recovered his bearings and +pressed the throttle control of his ion drive. It coughed and stuttered! +For a moment Tom felt a surge of panic, but the jet motor smoothed into +a steady purr of power.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" he thought in relief. "At least I can still get around at full +speed if anything else comes at me!"</p> + +<p>He had clung to the flashlight and fork despite the explosion. The blast +had hurled him away from the spot where the missile was buried, so Tom +began trying to locate it again.</p> + +<p>But he soon realized that his efforts were hopeless. He must wait until +the silt which clouded the water cleared. Now Tom feared that the +explosion might have reburied the nose cone.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a new worry gripped him. <i>Had the missile's precious contents +been destroyed by the blast?!</i> Slowly he began making his way back to +the <i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>Unknown to Tom, Bud was fighting a desperate battle with his adversary +barely fifty yards away. The divers grappled each other in an +octopuslike duel. At such depths, their movements were impeded, as if by +oil.</p> + +<p>The Brungarian pulled out the knife at his belt. Bud, a skilled wrestler +from high-school days, managed to twist his foe's knife arm behind his +back—then applied a punishing judo hold! The Brungarian gave an audible +screech of pain and dropped the knife.</p> + +<p>"Now you're coming along with me!" Bud muttered. He gunned his jet, +forcing himself and his adversary toward the <i>Sea Hound</i>.</p> + +<p>Moments later, they passed the seacopter's cabin window. Reaching the +air lock, Bud hammered for admission. The hatch opened quickly and his +prisoner was hauled inside. Bud followed.</p> + +<p>Tom greeted him with a bear hug. "Hi, Bud, you old devilfish!" Turning +to the prisoner, Tom added "Who's this?"</p> + +<p>"The rat who fired that grenade at you!"</p> + +<p>The prisoner was wearing a frogman costume and a mask which hid the +lower part of his face. The man's dark eyes glittered in hate, as Tom +ordered him to remove his mask. Sullenly the prisoner obeyed.</p> + +<p>Tom gasped. "<i>Dimitri Mirov!</i>" The name sent a shock through the +Americans aboard.</p> + +<p>"Wal, I'll be jing-whistled!" Chow declared, then broke into a gleeful +cackle.</p> + +<p>Under their scornful gaze, the Brungarian's own eyes wavered and his +shoulders slumped in an attitude of defeat. "What is the use?" he +muttered. "Again I have failed. My career is over now, just like my +brother's."</p> + +<p>Tom seized the opening. "In that case, maybe you're ready to do some +talking now."</p> + +<p>Mirov shrugged. "What do you wish to know?"</p> + +<p>In answer to Tom's questions, Mirov admitted that his group, composed of +Brungarian rebel Navy men and rocket engineers, had sabotaged the +returning Jupiter probe missile, hoping to obtain its data for their own +use.</p> + +<p>Their key agent in America was the man who had posed over the phone as +Lester Morris and masterminded the other attempts to kidnap Tom. He had +also taken the amulet bracelet from Ames's jacket in a restaurant.</p> + +<p>Mirov himself had been given the bracelet after his jail break. Pulling +back the sleeve of his frogman suit, he displayed it with a momentary +smirk of pride.</p> + +<p>"I even got inside the grounds of Swift Enterprises and stole a plane +that same night," Mirov boasted.</p> + +<p>Tom was startled. "How did you manage that?"</p> + +<p>"Very simple. I thumbed a ride with one of your trusted workers on the +late shift and showed him the amulet to identify myself as a Swift +employee. The guard at the gate was fooled the same way."</p> + +<p>Tom nodded thoughtfully. "They were instructed to look for a man trying +to sneak past alone. Seeing you in the same car with a known employee, +he probably assumed you were all right."</p> + +<p>Mirov was allowed to change into dry clothes, then his hands were bound +behind his back. When the water cleared, Tom and Bud ventured outside +again. First they headed for Bud's jetmarine to reassure his crew. Here +they learned that the mystery submarine had vanished.</p> + +<p>"Good riddance!" Bud exclaimed jubilantly. +"They probably didn't even realize you had found the missile!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Had found</i> is right—past tense," Tom said wryly. "It's no doubt +buried again. But at least we have the right spot."</p> + +<p>They emerged from the jetmarine and headed back toward the site. As they +glided astern of the <i>Sea Hound</i>, Tom uttered a cry over his suit mike.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bud! There it is!</i>"</p> + +<p>Both boys darted ahead at increased speed, and Tom played his flashlight +beam over the precious treasure. Instead of burying the missile deeper, +the grenade explosion had uncovered the entire nose cone and part of the +section behind it!</p> + +<p>"Sizzlin' squids! What a break!" Bud whooped.</p> + +<p>The boys jetted back to the <i>Sea Hound</i> to announce the good news. Zimby +and two other crewmen were dispatched in hydrolungs to inform the other +ships. Tom requested them to remain submerged and guard the site.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later the <i>Sea Hound</i> was zooming up to the surface. Tom +hoisted the craft's aerial and radioed word to his father, who was +overjoyed. Mr. Swift, in turn, had news—that the rebels' key man and +Len Unger had been seized by the FBI. Tom's next call was to Admiral +Walter.</p> + +<p>"Tom, this is wonderful news!" the admiral exclaimed. "I'll have our +Navy ships routed back there immediately—and I intend to fly out +myself as soon as I can board a plane!"</p> + +<p>As Tom waited for the task force to arrive, his thoughts turned to new +inventions to tackle. But he could not anticipate what would happen to +him in his <i>Triphibian Atomicar</i>.</p> + +<p>Within hours, the task force arrived at the site and recovery operations +got under way. The missile was hoisted to the surface by cables attached +to submarines, then hauled aboard the tender. Tom himself supervised the +job of extracting the sealed data section.</p> + +<p>"You've done a tremendous job, Tom Swift, and our whole country will be +proud of you!" Admiral Walter declared before sailing home.</p> + +<p>Tom grinned as he prepared to descend the ladder over the side. "Let me +know about life on Jupiter, sir. I may go there myself one of these +days!"</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung, by +Victor Appleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC *** + +***** This file should be named 19258-h.htm or 19258-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/5/19258/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Graeme Mackreth and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung + +Author: Victor Appleton + +Illustrator: Charles Brey + +Release Date: September 12, 2006 [EBook #19258] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Graeme Mackreth and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG + +[Illustration: _The grenade went streaking straight toward Tom!_] + +THE NEW TOM SWIFT JR. ADVENTURES + +TOM SWIFT +AND THE ELECTRONIC +HYDROLUNG + +BY VICTOR APPLETON II + +ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES BREY + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + + + + +Copyright BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1961 + +[Transcriber's note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the copyright on this publication was renewed.] + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + +1 PIRATE MISSILE 11 +2 UNDERSEA SURVEY 20 +3 INVISIBLE SUB 31 +4 AERIAL ATTACK 39 +5 A HUNCH PAYS OFF 50 +6 THE CAISSON CLUE 56 +7 PORPOISE TAG 64 +8 DATE TROUBLE 72 +9 A MAGNETIC KIDNAPING 81 +10 TELEPHONE CODE 90 +11 SQUARE-DANCE HOAX 100 +12 DETECTION TEST 109 +13 ENEMY FROGMEN 119 +14 A PROPAGANDA BLITZ 130 +15 MOUNTAIN HIKE 140 +16 THE GUNMAN'S SURPRISE 148 +17 A MISSING AMULET 156 +18 SMILEY THE SEA COW 166 +19 FLASH FROM THE DEPTHS 176 +20 A LUCKY BLAST 183 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +PIRATE MISSILE + + +Tense, excited men gazed spaceward from the ships and planes of the +South Atlantic task force. Other watchers waited breathlessly in the +control room of the ship _Recoverer_. Among these was Tom Swift Jr. + +"How close to earth is our Jupiter probe missile?" Bud Barclay asked Tom +excitedly. + +The lanky blond youth beside him, in T shirt and slacks, shot a glance +at the dials of the tracking equipment. "Eight thousand miles from this +spot, Bud. It should land here in fifteen minutes!" + +Tom Jr., his father, Bud, and a host of scientists, Navy officers, and +newsmen were crowded aboard a U.S. Navy missile launching ship. + +"Just think!" Bud exulted. "You'll have data from the planet Jupiter +that no one on earth has yet been able to get!" + +"_If_ we recover the missile safely," Mr. Swift spoke up hopefully. The +elder scientist's voice was quiet but taut with the strain of waiting. +The two Swifts resembled each other closely--each had deep-set blue eyes +and clean-cut features--although Tom was somewhat taller and rangier. + +"You're right, Dad," Tom agreed. "If we don't snare the missile, our +whole project will be a total loss to America's space program!" + +At Tom's words, the watchers and crewmen who were crowded into the +_Recoverer_'s control room stirred restlessly. Its bulkheads were banked +with radar and telemetering devices. Tension had been mounting +throughout the morning aboard the ships and observation planes of the +task force as everyone awaited the return of the planet-circling +missile--scientists' deepest penetration into space so far. + +"What do you mean, a total loss?" Bud argued. "Even if the recovery +operation's a flop, the shot will still pay off in valuable information, +won't it?" + +Tom shook his head grimly. "The purpose of this unmanned, exploratory +flight around Jupiter was to take and record all kinds of data. But none +of the info is being radioed back to us." + +"How come?" + +"If we had put in radio gear strong enough to relay signals back, it +would have cut down the amount of information-gathering equipment +aboard," Tom explained. "We had to make every ounce count." + +Outwardly calm, Tom was seething with inner excitement. Although only +eighteen--the same age as his husky, dark-haired pal and copilot, Bud +Barclay--Tom had been given the job of directing the recovery phase of +the United States government's Project Jupiter survey. The Swifts and +their rocket research staff had built the missile and engineered the +space probe for the government. + +"Whew!" Bud gave a nervous whistle. "I see what you mean, pal. With all +our eggs in one basket, we sure can't afford to get butter-fingered with +the Jupiter prober." + +Admiral Walter, a tall, distinguished man, graying at the temples, +smiled. "It's what we call in warfare a calculated risk, Bud," he said. +"But with Tom in charge, I believe we have nothing to worry about." + +Mr. Swift's eyes shone with fatherly pride at the admiral's remark. Tom +Jr.'s pioneering rocket flights and inventions had won the youth a top +rank in American space research. + +"Guess you're right, sir," Bud agreed. "I'll back genius boy here any +day!" + +Tom winced as Bud whacked him heartily on the shoulder. "Better save +your orchids and keep your fingers crossed, fly boy," the young inventor +advised. "That rocket's not home yet." + +Radio telescopes, both on land and aboard the ships of the task force, +were following the missile's progress as it drew closer to earth. All +were feeding a steady stream of information to the ships' computers. + +"How soon will you fire the retro-rockets, Tom?" Admiral Walter inquired +presently. + +"In about ten seconds, sir," Tom replied, eying the sweep second hand of +the clock. + +Moments later, a red light flashed on the master control panel. Tom's +finger stabbed a button. Far out in space, the retarding rockets in the +missile's nose were triggered for a brief burst, slowing its high speed. +Without this, the missile would hurtle to flaming destruction in the +atmosphere. + +"We've picked it up!" shouted a radarman. + +Bud gave a whoop of excitement and everyone crowded around the +radarscope. Tom's steel-blue eyes checked the blip. Then he threw a +switch which started an automatic plotting machine that had been +prepared with the landing plan, and noted that the missile was slightly +off the correct path. A new flow of information now began pulsing in as +other ships' tracking radars recorded its course. The data was being fed +automatically to the "capture" computer. This would analyze the correct +flight path for the recovery missile, which would magnetically seize the +returning traveler from Jupiter and bring it safely home. + +Tom quickly read off the results from the computer's dials, then busied +himself again with the retarding-rocket controls. + +"Everything going okay, skipper?" Bud asked. + +Tom nodded. "I've readjusted the retarding rockets. They'll fire at the +proper intervals to slow down the missile still further and bring it +back on beam." + +The excited buzz of voices in the compartment gradually quieted as the +clock ticked steadily toward the next step in the recovery operation. + +"Stand by for missile firing!" Tom snapped. + +A seaman relayed the order over the ship's intercom. Tense silence fell +as Tom's eyes followed the sweep of the second hand. + +"All clear for blast-off!" came the talker's report. + +Tom pressed the firing button. A split second later the listeners' +eardrums throbbed to a muffled roar from topside as the slender recovery +missile shot skyward. The ship rocked convulsively from the shock of +blast-off. Then it steadied again as the gyros damped out the +vibrations. + +"Wow!" Bud heaved a sigh of relieved tension. Then he dashed from the +compartment and up the nearest ladder for a quick look at the rocket as +it disappeared into the blue. + +Tom watched the recovery missile intently on the radarscope. + +"Nice going, son," said Mr. Swift quietly. + +In response to his father's reassuring grip on his arm, Tom flashed him +a hasty smile. For the first time, the young inventor realized he was +beaded with perspiration and that his pulse was hammering. + +"It's a case of wait and hope," Tom murmured. + +[Illustration] + +On every ship and plane in the task force, eyes were glued to the radar +screens. Two small blips were visible--one the Jupiter probe missile, +the other the recovery missile--moving on courses that would soon +intersect. + +Just as Bud returned to the compartment, several of the watchers gave +startled gasps. + +"Another blip--coming in from nine o'clock!" Admiral Walter exclaimed. +"What's that?" + +Tom stared at the new blip. It was moving steadily toward the meeting +point of the first two missiles! + +"It's a thief missile!" Tom cried out. "Some enemy's trying to steal our +probe data!" + +"Good night!" Bud gulped. "Who'd dare try that?" + +"I don't know," Tom muttered tensely. "But if those three missiles meet, +our whole project will be wrecked!" + +"Better tape all readings!" Mr. Swift advised. + +"Right, Dad!" + +Admiral Walter had paled slightly under his deep tan. In stunned +silence, the Navy officers and scientists watched as Tom's lean hands +manipulated two controls. + +"What are those for?" Bud asked. + +"One's to speed up our recovery missile," Tom explained. "Looks like a +slim hope, though, from the way that third blip is homing on target. +This other control has just caused every instrument on this ship, and +all the others in the task force, to make permanent records on magnetic +tape of all their readings. + +"If a collision occurs and the probe missile falls into the sea," Tom +went on, "there's only one hope of recovery--to plot the exact +geographical position and then get to the spot before the enemy does!" + +"Roger!" Bud agreed. + +It was obvious that Tom's fears about the missiles colliding were well +founded. The mystery blip had veered as the recovery missile speeded up. +Within seconds, the three blips met on the screen and fused into a +single spot of light. + +"The probe missile's no longer responding to control!" one of the +telemetering scientists called out. + +Admiral Walter, grim-faced, flashed a questioning look at Tom. "Then +recovery has failed?" + +"I'm afraid so, sir." + +The fused blip was still visible on screen as the radar dishes tracked +it, moving in a way that indicated a steep downward plunge. + +For a moment Tom felt numb with despair. But he set his jaw firmly and +turned to the admiral. + +"Sir, I'd like helicopters readied for take-off immediately," Tom said. +"As soon as the tracking instruments lose contact, have the recording +tapes picked up from every ship in the task force and brought here to +the _Recoverer_." + +Admiral Walter nodded tersely. "Very well. Then what?" + +"I'll get to work right now," Tom replied, "and lay out a computer +program to process the readings." + +The data--consisting of millions of information "bits" from the +shipboard instrument tapes--would be fed to an electronic brain. The +brain would then calculate the probable location in latitude and +longitude of the sunken missile. + +As the admiral snapped out orders, Tom exchanged a brief worried glance +with his father. Each was pondering the same thought. + +_Could Tom find the lost Jupiter probe missile? Or would their enemy +locate it first?_ + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDERSEA SURVEY + + +With an effort, Tom forced all thoughts of failure out of his mind and +concentrated on the job at hand. In an hour he had the computer program +blocked out. + +Mr. Swift and several of the other scientists checked his work. Each +nodded approval. By this time, the fused blip had long since disappeared +from the radarscopes, indicating that the Jupiter probe missile--or what +was left of it--had plunged to the ocean bottom. + +"What's your next move, Tom?" Admiral Walter asked. + +"No point in wasting time waiting for the computer results," Tom +decided. "Suppose Bud and I fly back to Swift Enterprises and organize a +search party." + +"Good idea." As Admiral Walter extended a hand, his weather-beaten face +softened. "And don't feel downhearted, son. You rate a Navy 'E' for the +way you handled this operation. It would have succeeded if it hadn't +been for that confounded enemy missile!" + +"Thank you, sir." Tom managed a grateful grin, in spite of his +discouragement. + +Minutes later, the two boys embarked in a motor launch that took them to +an aircraft carrier standing by in the vicinity. From the flattop they +took off in a Navy jet for Shopton. + +Meanwhile, Mr. Swift remained aboard the _Recoverer_ to supervise the +data processing. Tom, looking back from the soaring jet, could see one +of the helicopters on its way to the missile ship to deliver the first +batch of tapes. + +It was late afternoon when the Navy jet touched down on the Enterprises +airfield. The Swifts' sprawling experimental station was a walled, +four-mile-square enclosure with landing strips, work-shops, and +laboratories, near the town of Shopton. Here Tom Jr. and his father +developed their amazing inventions. + +Tom and Bud hopped into a jeep at the hangar and sped to the +Administration Building, where Tom shared a double office with his +father. Bud sank down into one of the deep-cushioned leather chairs, +while Tom adjusted the Venetian blinds to let in the afternoon sunshine. + +The spacious office was furnished with twin modern desks, conference +table, and drawing boards which swung out from wall slots at the press +of a button. At one end of the room were the video screen and control +board of the Swifts' private TV network. Here and there stood scale +models of their inventions, a huge relief globe of the earth, and a +replica of the planet Mars. + +"What are your plans for our search expedition, skipper?" Bud asked. + +Tom ran his fingers through his crew cut. "Let's see. We'd better take +the _Sky Queen_, I think, and also--" + +Tom broke off as the desk intercom buzzed. Miss Trent, the Swifts' +secretary, was on the wire. + +"Your father's calling over the radio, Tom." + +"Swell!" Tom flicked a switch to cut in the signal of his private +telephone. "Hi, Dad! We just got back. Any news?" + +"Yes, son. We have the computer results," Mr. Swift replied. "Got a +pencil handy?" + +Tom copied down the latitude and longitude figures as his father +dictated. + +"According to the latest hydrographic maps, based on IGY findings," Mr. +Swift went on, "this area is a high plateau of the Atlantic Ridge--it's +near the St. Paul Rocks." + +"What about the depth?" + +"It averages between a hundred and three hundred feet," said the elder +scientist. + +Tom gave a whistle. "Lucky break, eh?" + +"Maybe and maybe not," Mr. Swift said cautiously. "The bottom there is +heavily silted." + +"Oh--oh." Tom made a wry face. "In that case, we may have some digging +to do." + +"I'm afraid so. However, no use borrowing trouble." After a short +discussion, the elder scientist added, "I'll probably fly home tomorrow, +son. Give my love to Mother and Sandy." + +"Right, Dad. So long!" Tom hung up and reported the news to Bud. + +"What kind of underwater gear will we use?" Bud inquired. + +"I'm not sure myself," Tom admitted. "Guess we'll have to take along a +variety of equipment and play it by ear." + +Before proceeding with his search plans, Tom phoned home to inform his +mother of his arrival. Mrs. Swift was sympathetic when she heard of the +failure to recover the probe missile. + +"I'm sure you'll locate it," she said encouragingly. + +"Some of your cooking will sure help brighten the picture," Tom replied +with a grin. As he put down the receiver a moment later, he told Bud, +"You're having dinner with us tonight, pal. Fried chicken and biscuits." + +Bud licked his lips. "Lead me to it!" + +Chuckling, Tom began drawing up a list of supplies for the expedition. +Bud helped with the details, after which Tom phoned the underground +hangar and the Swifts' rocket base at Fearing Island to give the orders +for the next day. Crewmen were also detailed for the trip. + +It was six o'clock when the two boys finally piled into Tom's low-slung +sports car and drove to the Swifts' big, pleasant house on the outskirts +of Shopton. Sandra, Tom's blond, vivacious sister, greeted them at the +door. + +"About time!" she teased. "We were beginning to think you two had taken +off somewhere." + +"Think I'd leave town while you and that fried chicken are in Shopton?" +Bud grinned. + +"What a line!" Sandy's blue eyes twinkled. "I know it's the fried +chicken you're really interested in." + +"Where's the rest of that 'we' you were referring to?" Tom inquired. + +"I'm sorry, Tom," Sandy said in a mournful voice. "Phyl couldn't make +it." + +As Tom's face fell, she burst out giggling and a second later Phyllis +Newton emerged from the kitchen. Brown-eyed, with long dark hair, Phyl +was the daughter of Tom Sr.'s old comrade-in-arms and lifelong chum +"Uncle Ned" Newton. Like Sandy, she was seventeen. + +"You didn't think I'd miss this rare evening, did you, Tom?" she said, +laughing. "After all, it isn't often we see you two." + +Sandy and Phyl liked to needle the boys about their infrequent dates, +due to Tom's and Bud's busy schedules. + +Mrs. Swift, slender and sweet-faced, gave Tom a hug and greeted Bud +warmly. Over the delicious dinner, the conversation turned to the +mysterious thief missile. + +"Who on earth could have fired it?" Sandy asked. + +Tom shrugged. "No telling--yet. There's more than one unfriendly country +which would give a lot for the data picked up on our Jupiter shot." + +"You aren't expecting more trouble, are you?" Phyl put in uneasily. + +Tom passed the question off lightly in order not to alarm his mother and +the two girls. But inwardly he was none too sure of what his survey +expedition might encounter in trying to locate the lost probe missile. + +Ever since his first adventure in his Flying Lab, the youthful inventor +had been involved in many daring exploits and thrilling situations. Time +and again, Tom had had to combat enemy spies and vicious plotters bent +on stealing the Swifts' scientific secrets. + +His research projects had taken him far into outer space and into the +depths of the ocean. With his atomic earth blaster, Tom had probed under +the earth's crust at the South Pole, and in other adventures he had +faced danger in the jungles of Africa, New Guinea, and Yucatan. His +latest achievement, receiving the visitor from Planet X, had been to +construct a robot body for this mysterious brain energy from another +world. Now, Tom realized, he was on the brink of another adventure which +might hold unexpected dangers. + +Early the next morning the majestic _Sky Queen_ was hoisted from its +underground hangar berth and hauled by tractor to its special runway. +This mammoth, atomic-powered airplane had been Tom's first major +invention. A three-deck craft, it was equipped with complete laboratory +facilities for research in any corner of the globe. Jet lifters in the +belly of the fuselage enabled the craft to take off vertically and also +to hover. + +As Tom supervised the loading of the equipment, a foghorn voice boomed, +"'Mornin', buckaroos!" + +The chunky figure of Chow Winkler came into view. Formerly a chuck-wagon +cook in Texas, Chow was now head chef on Tom's expeditions. As usual, a +ten-gallon hat was perched on his balding head and he was stomping along +in high-heeled boots. + +"Wow! A shirt to end all shirts!" Tom chuckled. + +"Real high style, eh?" Chow twirled about to display his latest Western +creation. The shirt seemed to be made of silvery fishlike scales, which +glistened like a rainbow. + +"I figured as how this was just the thing fer an ocean jaunt," Chow +added with a grin. "How soon do we take off, boss?" + +"As soon as we get the rest of this gear stowed," Tom replied. + +Twenty minutes later the _Sky Queen_ soared toward the ocean. Soon they +came in sight of Fearing Island rocket base, a few miles off the coast. +Once a barren stretch of sand dunes and scrub-grass, the island was now +the Swifts' top-secret rocket laboratory, guarded by drone planes and +radar. It served as the supply base for Tom's space station and as the +launching area for all space flights. Seacopters and jetmarines were +also berthed here. + +A radio call from Tom brought a sleek, strange-looking craft zooming up +to join them. + +It was the _Sea Hound_, latest and largest model of Tom's amazing diving +seacopter. It had an enclosed central rotor, powered by atomic turbines, +with reversible-pitch blades for air lift or undersea diving. +Superheated steam jets provided forward propulsion in either element. + +As the _Sea Hound_ streaked alongside the Flying Lab, two figures in the +seacopter's flight compartment waved to Tom and Bud. One was Hank +Sterling, the blond, square-jawed chief pattern-making engineer of +Enterprises. The other was husky Arv Hanson, a talented craftsman who +transformed the blueprints of Tom's inventions into working models. + +"All set," Hank radioed. "Lead the way." + +"Roger!" Tom replied. + +Flying at supersonic speed, they reached the area of the lost missile in +the South Atlantic soon after lunch. Already on hand were ships of the +Navy task force assigned by Admiral Walter to participate in the missile +search. The _Sea Hound_ settled down on the surface of the water, while +the _Sky Queen_ hovered at low altitude nearby. + +Tom contacted the government craft and learned that as yet no sign of +the lost Jupiter prober had been detected. Then he made ready to begin +his own search. + +"Let's try the Fat Man suits first," Tom told Bud. Turning to Slim +Davis, a Swift test pilot who was in the crew, the young inventor added, +"Take over, will you, Slim?" + +"Righto." Slim eased into the pilot's seat. + +"Got a job for me, skipper?" asked Doc Simpson, Swift Enterprises' young +medic. + +"Yes. Help the boys, if you like, rig the undersea elevator, and then +assemble a tractorized air dome," Tom suggested. + +"Will do," Doc promised. + +A ladder was dropped. Tom and Bud excitedly descended to the _Sea +Hound_. The search for the lost missile was about to begin! + +Once the boys were aboard, the seacopter submerged and dived quickly to +the ocean floor. Tom and Bud each climbed into a Fat Man suit and went +out through the air lock. The suits, shaped like huge steel eggs with a +quartz-glass view plate for the operator seated within, had mechanical +arms and legs. + +The boys waddled about, the built-in searchlights of their suits +piercing the murky gloom. They saw nothing but the deep accumulation of +silt on the ocean bottom, which made the going difficult. + +"This is too slow," Tom called over his sonarphone. "Let's try the air +dome." + +The dome was a huge underwater bubble of air, created by a repelatron +device which actually pushed the ocean water away. The air supply inside +was kept pure by one of Tom's osmotic air conditioners which made use of +the oxygen dissolved in the water. + +The air bubble, however, even with its jet-propelled platform, also +proved inadequate for the research job. Its caterpillar treads +repeatedly bogged down in the silt. + +"Maybe the seacopter itself is our best bet," Bud suggested. + +"Worth a try," Tom urged. + +But the _Sea Hound_, too, had a serious drawback. Even with its powerful +search beam sweeping the ocean floor as it prowled along, the explorers +found their vision too limited. + +Finally Tom said, "Bud, we could skin-dive at this depth." + +"Let's give it a whirl," Bud urged. + +The seacopter surfaced again, while the boys donned flippers, masks, +and air lungs. Then they dropped over the side and made their way slowly +downward into the gray-green depths, accustoming themselves gradually to +the increased pressure. + +"A lot more freedom of action," Tom thought. "If only we didn't have to +communicate by signals!" + +There was a sudden _swoosh_ somewhere on his right. A projectile, Tom +realized! Turning, his eyes widened in horror as he saw an uprush of +bubbles. + +Bud's air tank had been hit! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INVISIBLE SUB + + +Without wasting a moment, Tom lunged through the water toward his +stricken friend. Bud was floundering and thrashing about weakly. He +seemed dazed by the sudden shock of his plight. + +"Or maybe the impact of the projectile stunned him!" Tom surmised. + +Bud began groping his way upward just as Tom came alongside of him. Tom +grabbed him as best he could, hooking onto his belt. At the same time, +the young inventor inhaled deeply, yanked out Bud's useless mouthpiece, +and inserted his own in its place. + +Bud's eyes glowed with gratitude. + +"We'll have to get topside fast," Tom thought, "even though it means +risking the bends." + +He stroked upward and they shot toward the surface. Bud assisted to some +extent, partly revived by the gulp of air. + +As they rose, fathom by fathom, their progress seemed to grow +maddeningly slower. Tom had to let air bubbles escape constantly from +his mouth. As the pressure decreased, due to the lessening depth of the +water, the air in his lungs expanded and he was forced to breathe out. + +Tom noticed with dismay that Bud was not responding very well, his +feeble strokes were jerky and uncoordinated. "Must've lost pressure too +fast when his tank was hit," Tom realized. + +The water was growing greener and brighter now as they neared the +sunshine. The _Sea Hound_'s shadowy outline loomed just above. With a +last desperate burst of strength, Tom lunged upward and they broke +water. + +"H-h-help!" Tom gasped. + +There was no need for the cry. Hank and his crew, on the seacopter's +forward deck, had already grasped the situation. Strong arms reached out +and hauled the two boys aboard. + +Both of them were shivering and writhing in pain, only half conscious. + +"They have the bends!" Arv Hanson cried in alarm. "Signal the _Sky +Queen_ to drop a sling!" + +The boys' masks were ripped off. Within moments, Bud had been tightly +secured to the sling, which was reeled back up into the plane. Tom +followed in a few minutes. Doc Simpson took charge of the patients +immediately. After a quick examination, he had the boys placed in a +small decompression chamber in the _Sky Queen_'s sick bay. + +"How are they?" Hank asked anxiously as he peered through the window of +the chamber. The medic had given Bud a sedative and he was already fast +asleep. Tom remained awake. + +"Aside from the pain, not in too bad shape," Doc Simpson replied. + +It turned out that Tom's case was not so serious, but Bud had to stay in +bed. With Tom, it was only a matter of decompression and he soon was up +and about. + +Chow, in a chef's cap, with an apron around his paunchy stomach, had +come stomping in hastily from the galley. "Pore lil ole boys," he +fussed. "Brand my snorkel, I never should've let you young'uns go pokin' +around down below there without me around to keep an eye on things!" + +Tom slapped the loyal old Texan on the back. "If you want a dive, come +along." + +"You're goin' back down?" Chow asked. + +"In the seacopter," Tom replied. "To find out, if possible, who fired +that projectile at us." + +"Then count me in!" Chow declared, stripping off his apron. "I just hope +I get my hands on them sneakin' polecats!" + +Slim Davis would pilot the _Sky Queen_ back to Shopton at once, because +of Bud. Tom and Chow, meanwhile, would join Hank and his crew aboard the +_Sea Hound_. + +Ten minutes later the sleek seacopter, its searchlight off to avoid +detection, was plummeting downward through water that changed before +their eyes from greenish blue to a deep-gray gloom. Iridescent fish +darted past the cabin window. + +"Think the enemy sub was searching for our Jupiter prober?" Hank asked. + +"It must have been," Tom reasoned. + +Hank frowned. "Which means they must have figured out the missile's +position as fast as our side did." + +"And they'll play rough to stop us from finding it," Arv added +forebodingly. + +Within moments, the group clustered in the pilot's cabin felt a gentle +bump as the _Sea Hound_ settled on the submerged plateau. Tom relaxed at +the controls but kept the rotors going so the craft would remain +submerged. Meanwhile, the sonarman was probing the surrounding waters. + +"Any pings?" Tom asked. + +The man shook his head without taking his eyes from the sonarscope. +"Nothing yet." + +Hank Sterling donned a hydrophone headset and listened intently. The +silence deepened in the _Sea Hound_'s cabin. Suddenly Hank stiffened and +the sonarman cried out: + +"A blip, skipper! At two o'clock!" + +It was moving rapidly on the scope--something streaking toward their +starboard beam! + +"Good night! It's another missile!" Tom gasped. + +He darted back to the controls and gunned the reverse jets just in time! +The missile flashed across their bow. + +"Great bellowin' longhorns!" Chow gasped weakly. His leathery face had +gone pale under its tan. "The yellow-livered drygulchers!" + +"I don't get it," Arv Hanson spoke up. "If they're in firing range, we +should have detected them, shouldn't we?" + +Tom nodded grimly. "Whoever our enemies are, they must have perfected a +way to make themselves invisible to underwater detection. + +"_And we'll have to do the same!_" he vowed inwardly. Aloud, Tom said, +"I hate to run from those sneaks, but if we stick around, we'll be +asking for trouble." + +Slowing the rotors to permit the craft to rise, Tom guided the _Sea +Hound_ back to the surface. Then he reversed blade pitch for air flight +and gunned the atomic turbines. The seacopter rose steeply above the +billowing South Atlantic. + +Tom radioed a terse report of their experience to the task-force +commander and in turn was told that none of the naval craft had either +sighted or picked up any sign of a strange sub. + +As they streaked homeward, Chow was still fuming. "Why don't we post a +dummy sub there to scare off the varmints?" + +"I'll pass the idea along to the Navy," Tom said with a grin. + +Night had fallen when the searchers arrived back at Fearing Island. Tom +cleared with the tower and landed, then went by jeep to base +headquarters. He called Enterprises and learned that Bud's condition was +improved, and that Mr. Swift had returned that afternoon. He spoke to +him about the mystery sub. + +"This is bad news indeed, son," Mr. Swift said, after hearing how the +attacker had defied detection. "You'd better inform Admiral Walter. He +had to fly back to Washington." + +"I'll call him right away," Tom promised. + +The admiral was equally disturbed when Tom succeeded in reaching him. +"We must find that missile as soon as possible--at any cost," he said. +"Tom, you Swifts have had considerable experience in undersea dredging. +Could you send a team of engineers to assist us in the work?" + +"Yes, sir," the young inventor replied. "I'll assign men to the job +first thing tomorrow." + +After hanging up, Tom hopped back to the mainland with Chow in a Pigeon +Special. This sleek little commercial plane was manufactured by the +Swift Construction Company in charge of Ned Newton. + +Early the next morning Tom and his father drove to Enterprises, and the +young inventor plunged into the job of organizing an engineering crew +for the missile hunt. Art Wiltessa, a crack underwater specialist as +well as engineer, was placed in charge. + +By noon the group had taken off for the South Atlantic in a Swift cargo +jet. A small portable model of Tom's atomic earth blaster was included +in their equipment. A jetmarine and a diving seacopter were also +dispatched from Fearing to assist in the operations. + +"It's apt to be a long-drawn-out job--and dangerous," commented Mr. +Swift as he lunched with Tom in their office. + +"Yes. Digging in that silt could be almost as bad as working in +quicksand." + +Mr. Swift's deep-set blue eyes took on a thoughtful gleam. "Speaking of +silt, son, I've found the ideal spot for my secret deep-sea farm." + +"You mean for growing those plants you use in making Tomasite?" Tom +asked. + +The elder scientist nodded. Tomasite, a revolutionary plastic which Mr. +Swift had developed, possessed amazing insulating properties against +both heat and radiation. One of its secret ingredients came from certain +plants found only in Far Eastern waters. Mr. Swift hoped to transplant +them locally. + +"The site is near Fearing Island--about fifty feet in depth," he added. + +"You may have a tough time finding gardeners, Dad," Tom pointed out. +"Men can't work that far down for very long at one time." + +"It'll be a problem," Mr. Swift conceded. He finished his coffee, then +looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. "How about figuring out a solution +for me, Tom?" + +"A new kind of air lung?" Tom was intrigued! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AERIAL ATTACK + + +"Yes, son," Mr. Swift went on. "What's needed is a new type of breathing +device--one that will eliminate bulky air tanks and permit a skin diver +to stay down for long periods." + +"Quite an order, Dad." + +Grabbing a pencil, the young inventor began sketching. In both his Fat +Man suits and his osmotic air conditioner, Tom had already perfected +ways of drawing oxygen from sea water. + +"But a small gadget for skin divers," he said, "will take a fantastic +job of electronic miniaturization." After a pause he added, "It could +really speed up recovery of the Jupiter prober, though." + +Lunch over, Tom hopped a jet scooter and sped off to his private +laboratory. The modernistic glass-walled structure--designed by Tom +himself--had every tool of modern scientific research, from electronic +microscope to helium cryostat. + +As always, whenever he was absorbed in a new idea, Tom was eager to get +to work. "Let's see what I'm shooting for. A small container, slung +around the diver's neck?... No, too dangerous. Better hook it to his +weight belt, with a tube to his face mask." + +Using a plastic foam "breadboard," Tom began experimenting with various +circuit designs. He worked through the afternoon and returned to the +problem early the next morning. + +He was interrupted by a message from Art Wiltessa, reporting no luck so +far in finding the missile. Later, shortly before lunch, Tom received +another call, this time from Admiral Walter. "Just wanted to keep you +posted, Tom. Our task force reports no success on their part in finding +the buried missile. No sign of the enemy, either." + +"They'd probably hesitate to attack any official U.S. Navy units," Tom +said. "Or it might mean they've already found the missile themselves." + +"That's what I fear," Admiral Walter confessed gloomily. "However, we'll +continue searching." + +Tom promised to fly down to the site at the first opportunity, saying he +was developing a new device that might assist in the search. After +snatching a hasty lunch, Tom returned to work. + +Arv Hanson machined several parts and molded the plastic face mask to +Tom's specifications. By evening the new device was completed. + +"Now for a test," the young inventor said to himself. + +Sandy Swift and Phyl Newton were eager to watch the test, so the next +morning they drove to the plant in Phyl's white convertible. Tom, clad +in swim trunks, was waiting for them with Chow near the edge of a +mammoth concrete tank. Set in bedrock, at one end of the Enterprises +grounds, the tank was used for submarine testing. + +When Sandy saw the power unit strapped to Tom's weight belt, she +exclaimed, "_That_ little gadget will supply all the air you need? Why, +it's no bigger than a pocket transistor radio!" + +Tom grinned. "I hope it will. That's what I intend to find out." + +"How does it work?" Phyl asked, fascinated. + +Tom explained, "Actually its function is to replace the carbon dioxide +that I exhale with fresh oxygen drawn from the water. Otherwise, +although the carbon dioxide I'd breathe out would be a very small amount +at a time, it soon would make the air unfit. The nitrogen, which makes +up much of the air we breathe, is chemically inert and can be used again +and again." + +He pointed to a round screen on one side of the unit. "This is the water +intake," Tom went on, "and this other screen is where the water comes +out after we've removed its oxygen." + +Near the forward end of the unit, a semirigid plastic tube was +connected, leading up to the face mask. At the rear was a power port for +inserting a small solar battery. + +"What about this little tuning knob?" Sandy asked. + +"That's the rate control for adjusting the output frequency to the +wearer's breathing rate." Tom added, "I've decided to call the whole +apparatus an 'electronic hydrolung.'" + +Chow pushed back his ten-gallon hat and scratched his head dubiously. +"Wal, I'm keepin' a net handy to drag you out, boss, just in case." + +Tom chuckled and fitted the mask over his face, then made a clean dive +into the tank. For the next ten minutes the girls and Chow watched +wide-eyed as he swam, walked around, and went through vigorous exercises +at the bottom of the tank without once coming up for air. + +"Whee!" Sandy exclaimed when Tom finally climbed out. "Make me one, so I +can take up skin diving!" + +"It's wonderful!" Phyl added admiringly. + +Tom took off his mask. "I'm pretty pleased with it myself," he admitted, +grinning. + +The girls stayed at Enterprises for lunch. Then the group, accompanied +by Doc Simpson, flew to Fearing Island so Tom could test his invention +in deep water. Boarding a small motor launch, with Doc at the helm, they +cruised out to a suitable depth and dropped anchor. + +"Don't become too confident, Tom," Doc warned. "I'll drop a signal line +over the side in case of emergency." + +Tom buckled on his equipment belt and adjusted the face mask. Then he +held up crossed fingers and back-flipped over the gunwale into the +water. Chow, Doc, and the girls watched his plummeting figure fade from +view. + +Tom, an expert skin diver, had never before felt such a sense of ease +and freedom under water. He was moving, light and self-contained, in a +green, magical world. With no air tanks chafing his back, he felt akin +to the fishes themselves. + +"Wish I'd brought a hook and line along." He chuckled, as a school of +mackerel darted past. + +Now came the real test. Deeper and deeper, Tom cleaved his way downward. +Reaching bottom, he prowled about the ocean bed for a while, then +started up again. Suddenly a stab of pain shot through his chest--a +warning of nitrogen bubbles forming in his blood! + +Tom swam toward the signal cord, dangling dimly in the distance. By the +time he reached it, his muscles were knotting with cramps. + +"It's the bends again, all right!" Tom realized. Gritting his teeth, he +yanked hard on the line, then summoned his strength to hang on. + +Doc and Chow hauled up frantically. Tom's face was contorted with pain +when they finally got him aboard and stripped off his mask. + +"Oh! How awful!" Phyl gasped. + +Sandy cradled Tom's head in her lap, and Phyl held his hand +sympathetically, while Doc Simpson injected a hypodermic to ease the +pain. Chow steered the launch back to shore, and Tom was rushed to the +base infirmary in an ambulance. + +Here he was placed in a decompression chamber for several hours and +later transferred to a hospital bed. Bud Barclay came to visit him. + +"We're a fine couple of fish," he said. + +Tom chuckled wryly. "_Live_ fish, anyhow." + +"In my case, thanks to you," Bud said. + +"Forget it, pal. The score's about even, I should think," Tom said, +recalling the many life-or-death adventures they had shared. + +Bud was thrilled to hear of Tom's electronic hydrolung. The young +inventor spent the evening sketching out an improved design to eliminate +future accidents. + +"I'll install a special device to remove the nitrogen as the wearer +exhales," Tom explained. "Then a valve will feed in helium to replace +it. Since helium doesn't dissolve in the blood like nitrogen does, it +will not bubble out when the pressure is reduced. Should have thought of +that before!" + +"But you'll need a tank for the helium, won't you?" Bud objected. + +Tom shook his head. "Enough can be compressed into a small capsule to +supply the wearer's needs. Remember, it can be used over and over +again." + +"Pretty neat," Bud commented. + +By morning Tom felt thoroughly recovered. He insisted upon flying back +to Enterprises to make the necessary changes in his hydrolung. Bud +accompanied him, eager to get back on the job. + +In a few hours Tom had added a small fitting to his power unit to +provide for helium substitution. Then the two boys hopped back to +Fearing for a second deep-water test. This time, Tom was delighted to +find that he could operate comfortably at great depths, as well as rise +or descend suddenly without ill effect. + +Bud was aglow with enthusiasm. "Boy, we can really explore now!" + +After the boys had returned to Enterprises, Tom phoned Arv Hanson and +asked that a duplicate of the hydrolung be turned out in the shop as +soon as possible. It was ready the following Monday morning, so Tom +suggested to his father that the two visit the proposed underwater site +and make some sample plantings. + +"Great idea, son," Mr. Swift agreed. "I want to try out your new diving +apparatus myself. If it's successful, we'll be able to tackle two +problems at once--recover the Jupiter prober and start the 'sea farm.'" + +They flew to Fearing, then went by boat to the farm site, about half a +mile offshore. Each carried several of the valuable Far Eastern plants. + +[Illustration] + +The silt beds which Mr. Swift had selected were just deep enough to +keep the plants from being discovered, yet enable them to receive +sufficient sunlight. + +Tom and his father started their planting. But no sooner had the first +plants been embedded than fish darted in to nibble them. Even the roots +disappeared into their greedy maws. + +[Illustration] + +"Looks as though we'll have to build some sort of net enclosure around +and over our farm," Mr. Swift said, after they had climbed back into +the boat. "But at least your hydrolung device is a great success, son!" + +Tom was thoughtful. "Dad, I wonder if the fish would eat those plants +from space which you've been growing under salt water?" + +Tom was referring to certain strange plants rocketed to earth by unknown +space friends with whom the Swifts had been in communication. + +"I have a hunch," Tom went on, "that the fish might be repelled by the +unusual scent of those space plants. If so, we could scatter them among +the earth plants to keep the fish away." + +Mr. Swift was impressed by Tom's idea. As soon as they had returned to +Enterprises, he proposed that the experiment get under way. + +Tom volunteered to undertake the job at once with Bud. While the young +inventor phoned his copilot, Mr. Swift went to his own laboratory to +prepare the plants for shipment. + +Twenty minutes later the boys took off in a jet. The plants had been +parceled in transparent plastic film. Glistening with a red metallic +sheen, they looked somewhat like tulips with honeycombed centers. + +"Scarecrow plants to drive off fishes," Bud joked. "What will scientists +think of next!" + +Tom laughed, then abruptly frowned. "Hey! What's that character up to?" +he said. "Trying to buzz us?" + +A sleek gray jet without markings was arrowing in on them from three +o'clock. Bud flicked on the radio and barked a warning. The plane made +no response. As it kept coming, Tom increased speed--then rolled, dived, +and changed course, but failed to shake off their pursuer. + +Bud, meanwhile, was frantically calling Enterprises and a nearby +airport, but getting no response. Yet their radio was working, for a +voice suddenly crackled: + +"_Follow the mystery plane for a landing and you won't be harmed!_" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A HUNCH PAYS OFF + + +Dismayed, Tom and Bud stared at each other. Apparently the enemy ship +had blanked out their radio communication to all points except the +mystery plane. + +"Who are you and what do you want?" Tom said into his microphone. + +The voice replied crisply, "_You'll find out when the time comes!_" + +Tom flicked off his mike and exchanged another worried glance with Bud. +"We seem to be in a spot, pal!" + +"And how! Especially if that crate's armed!" Bud muttered. "But what are +they after?" + +Tom shrugged. "The space plants maybe--or possibly our jet." + +"Might even be _us_ they want," Bud said. "Got any tricks under your +magician's hat?" + +Tom's brain was already racing to figure a way out. Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "Hey! I almost forgot!" he exclaimed. "Look in the locker, +Bud, and see if we have the radio set that neutralizes all +interference!" + +Bud's face brightened. "Now you're talking!" + +The set had been perfected during Tom's _Cosmic Astronauts_ adventure, +in defense against an Oriental enemy's jamming-wave generator. Bud found +it in the locker, dragged it out joyfully, and plugged it into the power +supply. + +Meanwhile, the mystery jet had banked in a wide circle and headed west. +As Tom stalled for time, it swooped back again and the same voice came +snarling over the speaker. + +"_I warned you to follow us! Or would you prefer to be shot down?_" + +As if to back up the threat, a burst of tracer fire grazed Tom's plane. + +He hastily switched on his mike. "Okay, hold your fire! I guess we have +no choice!" + +The jet turned back on its westerly course, and Tom followed obediently. +Meanwhile, Bud had warmed up the other radio and contacted Enterprises. +Tom switched mikes long enough to report their position, course, and +speed, adding: + +"Tell Security to alert Vignall Air Force Base pronto!" + +"Roger Wilco!" the Enterprises operator responded. Even if the enemy +ship detected the call, Tom knew the automatic scrambling device would +prevent the message from being understood. + +Minute after minute, the flight continued. "Where are they taking us?" +Bud muttered. + +"Some out-of-the-way landing spot probably," Tom conjectured. "I wonder +how soon those fighter boys will--" + +Bud suddenly grabbed Tom's arm and pointed to starboard. "There they +come, skipper!" + +Three gleaming specks had just burst through a cloud bank to the north. +Closing in rapidly, they were soon visible as Air Force fighter jets, +flying in V formation. + +"Fighter One to unmarked jet!" came the sharp command over the radio. +"Can you read me?... You'd _better_ read me, pal! I order you to proceed +to Vignall Air Base under our escort or take the consequences!" + +The mystery pilot, evidently bewildered by the sudden onslaught, made a +frantic effort to escape. But the fighters, with almost contemptuous +ease, quickly surrounded the plane and forced him to comply with orders. + +Bud whooped with laughter. "Just a sheep in wolf's clothing, eh, +buster?" + +Minutes later, all the planes, including Tom's, landed at the airfield. +Four sullen-faced men, their hands up, emerged from the mystery jet. +Military police with drawn automatics herded them to the commandant's +office. Tom and Bud followed. + +"Attempted aerial piracy, eh?" the commandant said when he heard the +boys' story. Turning to the prisoners, he snapped, "Who are you, and +what's the meaning of all this?" + +The crew captain, a hard-looking, stockily built man of about +forty-five, rasped back, "We have nothing to say." + +The commandant wasted no words. "Search them," he told the MP's. + +Their wallets and various other items revealed little. The crew captain +was carrying a private pilot's license on which he was identified as +"Jack Smith." The names of the others, as shown on identification papers +of one kind or another, sounded equally false. + +"Probably all forged," the commandant muttered, "but we'll check them +out." + +He tried again to glean something from the prisoners, but they replied +with sneering evasions. The commandant reddened with anger at their +stubbornness. "All right. Take them to the guardhouse," he ordered. + +As the MP's marched the hijackers off, Tom asked how their case would be +handled. + +"The crime is a federal offense," the commandant explained. "Air Force +Intelligence will co-operate on the case, but the prisoners will be +turned over to a federal marshal." + +Tom briefed him on the background of the situation, including the +Jupiter-probing missile mystery, then asked, "Could those men be +transferred to the Shopton jail for the time being so our own security +setup can take a hand in the investigation?" + +The commandant nodded. "I'll arrange it." + +As the boys flew back to Enterprises, Bud threw Tom a quizzical glance. +"How come you mentioned the Jupiter prober, skipper? Do you think those +hijackers were after information?" + +Tom shrugged. "I'm wondering myself, Bud. If they were, it could mean +our enemy hasn't found it yet!" + +When they arrived at the experimental station, Tom made a full report to +Harlan Ames, the slim, dark-haired security chief. Ames listened +thoughtfully but was as baffled as Tom. + +"Are the men Americans?" he asked. + +"I doubt it," Tom said. "They speak English well enough, but with a +faint accent. Somehow, I have a hunch they're Brungarians." + +Ames whistled. "That could spell trouble, skipper." More than once, +Brungarian rebel agents had engaged in brazen plots against America and +the Swifts. + +"Let's hope I'm wrong," Tom said wryly. + +"Art Wiltessa--and the Navy--called again," Ames added. "Still no luck +on the missile search." + +The gloomy news did nothing to lift Tom's spirits. The next day, hoping +to verify or disprove his suspicion, he drove to Shopton Police +Headquarters with Harlan Ames. The two talked briefly with Chief Slater, +an old friend. Then a turnkey took them to the cell block. + +The four prisoners had been confined in a single large cell. They seemed +tense and angry--as if they had been quarreling among themselves. + +"Ready to talk yet?" Ames asked. Getting no reply, he repeated the +question in Brungarian. + +Ames's ruse failed. "What language is that?" asked "Captain Smith" +mockingly. "Pig Latin?" + +As his cellmates grinned, Tom's eyes roved over their faces. One +man--wavy-haired with penetrating dark eyes--seemed oddly familiar. Why? +Suddenly the answer hit Tom like a flash. He resembled Streffan Mirov, +the brilliant Brungarian rocket scientist who had tried to oust Tom's +expedition from the phantom satellite Nestria. + +Playing a hunch, Tom said to him, "You know what your government does to +rebels and bunglers, Mirov." + +The man stiffened and paled. "We have not b-b-bungled!" he stuttered +angrily. + +"Shut up, you fool!" their leader shouted. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CAISSON CLUE + + +"Captain Smith" had leaped to his feet, quivering with anger. But it was +too late. His cellmate, by answering to the name of "Mirov," had given +away their nationality! + +Tom and Ames exchanged grins of triumph. + +"No doubt you recall what happened to Streffan Mirov," Tom went on, +pressing his advantage. "Or should I say the _late_ Streffan Mirov? Our +last report was that he had been tried and condemned by your own +government. Perhaps you can give us news of his fate?" + +The wavy-haired prisoner's eyes blazed with hate. "Grin while you can, +Tom Swift! Because of you, my brother Streffan is now serving a long +prison sentence! But I, Dimitri Mirov, will get revenge!" + +"You blame Tom Swift because your brother botched his job of claiming +the satellite Nestria by force and fraud?" Ames taunted. + +"Our space friends moved that asteroid into orbit around the earth," Tom +added. "We claimed it by right of first landing. Even your own leaders +couldn't agree to Streffan's crazy scheme to destroy everything." + +Dimitri Mirov lost all control and burst into a volley of guttural +Brungarian abuse. + +"I warn you, Swift!" he choked. "Jailing us will not make you safe--or +your projects, either!" + +A blow to the head from "Captain Smith" sent Mirov reeling back against +the wall. "Fool! Maybe that will quiet you!" the pilot snapped +viciously. "You have said too much already!" + +"Let's go, Tom," said Ames. "We've learned the information we came for." + +The prisoners could only glare in baffled rage through the cell bars as +Tom and the security chief turned their backs and walked away. + +"Nice going, Tom," Ames murmured. "Your hunch certainly paid off." Chief +Slater added his congratulations when he heard how Tom had trapped Mirov +into disclosing his identity. + +Both Tom and Ames were grave as they drove back to the plant. Neither +took Mirov's threats lightly. + +Tom pondered another angle. Were the Brungarian rebels perhaps +responsible for the attempted theft of the Jupiter-circling missile? + +Ames was inclined to think so. "Moreover," he forecast, "it's a cinch +they haven't thrown their last punch. I'll pass the word to the FBI and +Central Intelligence." + +After lunch Tom flew to Fearing Island with Bud, eager to tackle their +interrupted job of rooting the space plants into the undersea silt beds. +Zimby Cox, a sandy-haired, freckle-faced jetmariner, volunteered to +pilot a motor launch for them. + +They sped across the water, then dropped anchor at the farm site. Tom +and Bud donned their hydrolung gear and went over the side, each +clutching containers of the space plants. + +Reaching bottom, they glided about in the shadowy green water, embedding +the plants at far-spaced intervals. The Tomasite-producing plants had +been almost completely devoured. A few fish were darting about, but they +swam off quickly at the boys' approach. To Tom's delight, they showed no +sign of returning. + +"Looks as if our keep-off signs are working," Tom said with a pleased +chuckle when the boys finally surfaced and climbed back aboard the boat. + +Bud nodded. "Smart idea, all right." Then he scowled thoughtfully. "But +if you ask me, skipper, fishes aren't the only thieves you'll have to +guard against." + +"Meaning?" + +"Mirov's pals," Bud replied. "If it's the space plants they were after +when they pulled that aerial hijack attempt, they could take them easily +from these silt beds." + +Tom sobered. "You have a point there. I'd better have an audio screen +set up around this whole area. That'll act as a burglar alarm--and help +discourage the fish, too." + +Twenty minutes later the boys were winging back to the mainland. When +Tom reached his office, he called in Gib Brownell, an Enterprises +engineer. + +"Got a job for me, skipper?" + +Tom handed him a hastily scribbled diagram of the audio-screen setup. +"One of those hurry-up deals, Gib," he said with an apologetic grin. Tom +explained his plan. "We'll use transmitter buoys, monitored by an alarm +system at base headquarters on Fearing." + +Brownell studied the diagram and nodded. "Right. We can have it set up +in twenty-four hours." + +As Brownell left the office, the telephone jangled. Tom reached for it. + +"Admiral Walter calling." His voice was tense. "Important news, Tom. One +of our subs has picked up a clue that someone has been operating in the +missile search area." + +"What sort of clue, sir?" Tom asked. + +"A compressed-air caisson for underwater work. It had been driven into +the silt and then abandoned." Admiral Walter added that photographs and +a section of the caisson were being flown to the Naval Research +Laboratory for careful study. "I'll have a full report transmitted to +you by video as soon as it reaches my desk." + +Tom thanked the admiral and hung up, feeling more uneasy than ever. The +report came through the following morning. Tom absorbed the contents, +then gave a low whistle. + +"Trouble?" asked Bud, who had just dropped into the office with some +flight-test data on a new Swift superjet. + +"Our old enemies again." Tom shoved the papers across his desk. + +The report stated that both the design and manufacturing techniques used +in making the caisson indicated that it was of Brungarian origin. A +spectrographic analysis of the steels confirmed the theory. Their +metallurgical content agreed with known Brungarian steel formulas. + +"The sneaky rats!" Bud cried out. "Well, at least we know now who +sabotaged our missile recovery." + +As Tom paced about the office, Bud added, "What do you suppose they were +using the caisson for?" + +"Probably as a base for some heavy, rotating search equipment," the +young inventor surmised. + +"But why ditch it?" + +Tom shrugged. "An optimistic guess is that they spotted our Navy search +force and pulled out quickly, fearing a surprise attack." + +"What's a pessimistic explanation?" Bud asked. + +"Mission completed," Tom said grimly. "No need for them to stick around +if they'd already snagged the missile." + +Bud scowled at the thought. "Oh, no! That mustn't be true!" + +Tom plopped down at his desk, frowning. "Bud, I've been itching to get +to work on a non-detectable sub, like the one that attacked us. But +maybe it would be smarter to get a line on Mirov's pals first." + +"You mean down in the South Atlantic?" + +Tom nodded. "I'd sure like to know if they found that missile." + +"You and I both, pal!" Bud agreed. "Hey! We could use the electronic +hydrolungs for scouting around!" he added eagerly. + +"I intend to," Tom said. "But we'll need speed to cover the area. So +first I want to add an ion drive to our equipment." + +"Ion drive? For underwater?" Bud, who was familiar with ion propulsion +for spaceships, wrinkled his brow in a puzzled frown. + +"A goofy idea just occurred to me, but I think it may work out," Tom +replied. He seized a pencil and began explaining what he had in mind. + +The drive unit would take water into itself, separate the ionized +molecules, and expose them to an electric field. Thus a stream of water +would be forced out. This procedure, in turn, would set up a siphoning +action through a central tube--in effect, creating a small but powerful +water-jet motor. + +"We'll be human submarines!" Bud exclaimed. + +By the time Bud left the laboratory half an hour later, Tom had already +plunged into work on his newest invention. The idea was simple enough in +itself, Tom felt. The main problem would be the design job--laying out a +compact, lightweight unit which a swimmer could easily carry on his +back. + +Fascinated, the young inventor worked late into the evening, stopping +only in response to a telephone plea from Mrs. Swift. By midmorning the +next day, Tom had assembled a pilot model of his ion-drive jet. In +appearance, it was a slender metal cylinder, two feet long, with an +inner concentric tube projecting at each end. + +Tom had ordered a tank set up in his laboratory to test the unit. The +tank was filled chest-deep with water, and the ion drive was mounted on +a unitrack running the length of it. Tom set up his control board +alongside, with the main power switch within easy reach. The drive unit +was connected to the board by a suspended cable. + +"Boy, this'll be like playing with a speedboat in a bathtub!" Tom +thought with a chuckle as he changed into swim trunks. + +He climbed into the tank and slid the drive unit to one end of its +track. Then Tom metered out power slowly. With a gentle _whoosh_, the +ion-drive unit whizzed along the unitrack to the other end of the tank. + +"Not bad," Tom muttered, a pleased grin on his face. "Now I'll rev it up +a little." + +He slid the drive unit back to starting position, then opened the switch +wider. He had just started across the tank himself when suddenly he +became powerless to move. + +Tom was pinned helplessly against the wall of the tank by the powerful +water-jet exhaust! And the control switch was beyond his reach! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PORPOISE TAG + + +"Good grief! I'm trapped!" Tom squirmed desperately in a vain attempt to +free himself. + +The ion-drive unit had hurtled to the far end of the tank at the first +flick of power. But its exhaust tube was still jetting out a current of +water with stunning force. Tom could feel the near-crushing pressure +against his chest, even the full length of the tank away! + +"H-h-help!" Tom gasped. + +Moments dragged by with agonizing slowness. Tom felt as if his last +ounce of breath were being squeezed out by the viselike pressure. + +Suddenly a gravelly Western voice reached him, singing "Home on the +Range." It drew closer, swelling into a foghorn drone as the lab door +swung open. + +"Good old Chow!" Tom thought. "Thank heavens!" + +The grizzled, bowlegged cook ambled cheerfully into the laboratory, +pushing a lunch cart. But, to Tom's dismay, he cast only a passing +glance at the figure in the tank. + +[Illustration: _Tom squirmed desperately to free himself_] + +"Soup's on, son!" Chow announced loudly. He began to ladle out a bowl of +oyster stew from a steaming pot. Evidently he had not realized the young +inventor's dilemma! + +"Extra good today too, if I do say so myself!" the old Texan went on, +setting out the rest of the lunch. "Well, come on, buckaroo! Break away +from them chores an' dive in! Brand my cactus salad, if there's one +thing that riles a cook--" + +Summoning all his strength, Tom croaked out weakly, "Chow!... Get help!" + +At the strange sound of Tom's voice, Chow jerked around. His eyes bugged +out at the look on the young inventor's face. Then he dashed to the +public-address outlet on the wall and switched on the mike. + +"Help! Help!" Chow yelled. "Tom Jr.'s trapped in his lab!" + +The roly-poly chef was quivering in panic. He dashed across the room and +paced helplessly about the tank. Within moments, excited men were +crowding into the laboratory. + +Mr. Swift, among the first to arrive, took in the situation at a glance. +He dashed to the control board and slammed shut the main switch, thus +cutting off power to the ion-drive jet. + +"Whew! Th-thanks, Dad!" Tom's chest was heaving as he gulped in air to +relieve his tortured lungs. + +Tom Sr. helped him climb out of the tank. + +"B-b-brand my rhubarb rockets," Chow stuttered. "What in tarnation +happened?" + +"Guess I gunned my new skin-diving jet a bit too hard," Tom said +sheepishly. "It was almost a K.O. for me!" + +Mr. Swift asked Tom about the invention. After explaining how it worked, +Tom added with a grin, "Maybe you'd better hang around, Dad, until I +install some sort of density-control gadget for my hydrolung. Then I can +go up or down, or stay at any level easily." + +Such a device, Tom felt, might prove to be a lifesaver if he should ever +become trapped under water--perhaps far from help. + +The elder scientist chuckled and threw an arm around Tom's shoulders. +"I'd say you could design something like that with your eyes shut, son!" + +Warmed by his father's appreciation, Tom set to work improving his +diving apparatus. + +An hour later Bud came bursting into the laboratory. "Hey! What's this I +hear about your getting hammerlocked by a water jet?" the husky young +pilot asked. He had been on a test flight and just returned. + +Tom laughed good-naturedly. "Nothing serious. In fact, I felt pretty +silly," he told his chum. "I souped up our ion-drive gizmo a bit too +much." + +Bud picked up the slender metal cylindrical assembly from the workbench. +"This it?" he asked, his curiosity immediately aroused. + +Tom nodded and demonstrated the device in the test tank. + +Bud whistled with glee. "Boy! With this rig, we can scoot around like a +pair of barracudas!" he exclaimed. "What about that other thing you're +working on?" Bud pointed to a small electronic chassis on the workbench, +studded with a tangle of transistors, diodes, and condensers. + +"It's a density-control device," Tom explained. "A substitute for +ballast tanks, you might say. It'll enable us to rise or sink to any +depth at will, simply by varying our underwater density." + +Tom said the device would be carried in a small case, hooked to the +diver's belt, with a single tuning-knob control. The "throttle" or speed +control for the ion drive would be housed in the same unit. + +"I can't wait to try out the new diving gear," Bud said excitedly. + +By four o'clock Tom had the apparatus perfected, and turned it over to +Arv Hanson for fast duplication. + +"We'll give it a shakedown tomorrow morning," he told Bud. + +The duplicates of the ion drive and density control were ready and +waiting when the boys arrived at the plant next day. They immediately +flew to Fearing Island and embarked in a motor launch, with Zimby Cox +again at the helm. + +This time they cruised out to deeper water. Tom and Bud donned flippers +and belt, and helped each other strap on his ion-drive jet. + +"_Down_ we go, into the wilds of sharks!" Bud chortled lustily. "Watch +your step, Tom." + +"Just make sure you come up again in one piece," Zimby said with a grin. +"Also, don't get carried away with that ion squirt gun and take off on a +round-the-world underwater cruise." + +"Who knows?" Tom joked. Adjusting his face mask, he plunged over the +side. Bud followed. + +Down they glided into the sea-green wilderness. Leveling off in sight of +the ocean floor, they tried their drive jets. The effect was thrilling! +_Zip ... Whoosh!_ They darted to and fro like human torpedoes. + +Then Tom twirled the control knob of his density unit. Immediately he +bobbed upward like a cork. A reverse twirl sent him plummeting toward +the bottom again. Bud, watching with wide-eyed excitement, began +experimenting on his own. + +Soon the boys were engaging in all sorts of underwater acrobatics. +Presently Bud felt a nudge in the back that sent him hurtling a dozen +yards through the water. + +"Snuck up on me, eh, pal?" he thought with a chuckle. "Okay, Tom old +boy, here's where the undersea terror strikes back!" + +Swooping around to return the compliment, Bud gulped in surprise. +Instead of his chum, he found himself face to face with a bottle-nosed +dolphin! + +"Good night!" Bud thought. "A porpoise! So you're the joker who nudged +me!" + +With a playful toss of its comical-looking snout, the porpoise swam off, +as if inviting Bud to join in the fun and games. A whole school of the +creatures cavorted into view. + +"Okay! If you want to play!" Chuckling, Bud darted in pursuit, whacked +the porpoise that had nudged him, and jetted off again. The porpoise +gave chase, whistling and grunting audibly. + +Tom joined in the fun, and soon a rollicking game of underwater tag was +in full swing. The dolphins seemed as playful and mischievous as small +children. + +Twenty minutes later the boys surfaced and hauled themselves aboard. +Both tore off their masks and flopped into the boat, shaking with +laughter, surfacing and diving. + +"What was so funny down there?" Zimby asked. + +When Tom told him about the dolphins, he too burst into laughter. The +porpoises rose into view and convoyed the launch all the way back to the +island. + +The boys were so jubilant over the performance of the new hydrolung gear +that Tom decided to press his search for the Brungarian sea-prowlers +immediately. Soon after lunch they took off in the _Sea Hound_ and +headed for the South Atlantic. Hank Sterling, Chow Winkler, and two +crewmen accompanied the boys. + +Dazzling afternoon sunshine sparkled over the sea when they reached the +missile search area. Tom immediately contacted Art Wiltessa and the +task-force ships. They had no new developments to report. + +The young inventor gave orders to submerge. As soon as the seacopter +touched bottom, Tom and Bud swam out through the air lock with their +hydrolungs. + +They probed about for half an hour, ranging farther and farther from the +_Sea Hound_. Then Tom felt a touch on his arm. He turned and saw Bud +pointing off excitedly to the right. + +A strange submarine was moving slowly toward them! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DATE TROUBLE + + +The boys exchanged looks of fear through their face masks as the +knifelike hull and conning tower of the submarine loomed gray and +ghostly. + +Was the sub Brungarian? And what was it up to? Were the two young skin +divers about to be run down or kidnaped? + +_Or was its crew friendly?_ + +"Better not chance it," Tom decided fast. He caught Bud's eye again and +motioned upward with a jerk of his thumb. "Topside, pal!" + +"Roger!" Bud's lips shaped the word silently behind his face mask. + +In a twinkling both boys flicked their density controls and zoomed +upward. The sub at once seemed to betray a hostile intent. It blew its +tanks and planed upward in pursuit. But Tom and Bud easily pulled away. +Their density units worked like magic, shooting them straight toward +the surface. + +"Wow!" Bud shoved back his face mask as they broke water. "That baby was +after us and no mistake!" + +Tom nodded, treading water. "Let's not stick around here, either! We'll +soon have company again if we do!" + +Bud did not argue. "Where to, skipper?" + +In the fresh salt air, with the sunshine sparkling on the waves, it was +hard to believe that an enemy submarine was hot on their trail. But both +youths realized their peril was growing by the moment. + +"Back toward the _Sea Hound_," Tom said, pointing north-northwest. +"Submerge as we go!" + +Bud circled his thumb and forefinger, then adjusted his mask, and the +two boys plunged back in. On a sloping downward course, they sped along +like undersea rockets, their ion jets functioning perfectly. Minutes +later, they sighted the seacopter. + +Hank waved to them through the cabin window as they glided past. The air +lock opened speedily and the two boys entered. Both heaved sighs of +relief when they were safely inside. + +"Somethin' wrong?" Chow asked, sniffing trouble. + +"A strange submarine," Tom reported. "Brungarian more than likely. It +may be heading this way if they've tracked us." + +"A sub?" Hank was startled. "We've picked up nothing on sonar!" + +"Check again," Tom ordered. + +The sonarman bent to his scope and Hank listened intently over the +hydrophones. Neither could detect any sign of another craft. + +"Probably the same one that fired on us the last time," Tom said grimly. +"We'd better clear out before they take another pot shot at us." + +Hank sent the _Sea Hound_ zooming toward the surface while the boys +changed quickly into slacks and T shirts. Then Tom took over the +controls for the flight home. + +"Brand my vitamin vittles! Are we just goin' to turn tail an' run every +time them varmints come skulkin' around?" Chow fumed as the seacopter +arrowed northward. + +"Not if I can help it," Tom vowed. "But first I must figure out a way to +make our own craft invisible, so to speak. It's the only way to protect +our American crews, Chow, if we hope to do any secret digging for that +lost missile." + +"Want another suggestion, skipper?" Bud put in. "This one is about the +hydrolung." + +"Sure. Speak up." + +"How about putting some sort of communications system into our hydrolung +gear? If I hadn't been close enough to grab you when I spotted that +sub, it might have been curtains, pal!" + +"You're right," Tom agreed. "I'll get to work on it." + +It was sunset when Fearing Island came into sight. The boys flew a +Pigeon Special back to Enterprises, where Tom phoned a full report on +the mystery sub to the Navy Department. Then the two chums drove to the +Swift home for a late supper. + +Phyl Newton was visiting Sandy that evening, but the girls displayed a +marked coolness toward Tom and Bud. Instead of engaging in conversation, +they retired to Sandy's room upstairs to play records, while Mrs. Swift +served the boys a warmed-up but tasty meal of roast beef and mince pie. + +"What's wrong? Are we repulsive or something?" Bud asked as they ate. + +Tom shrugged, concentrating on a mouthful of roast beef. "Search me. We +sure don't seem very popular with the girls tonight." + +Mrs. Swift, overhearing their remarks in the kitchen, smiled but +maintained a diplomatic silence. + +Suddenly Bud slapped his forehead. "Good night! No wonder!" + +Tom looked up with a grin of interest. "Well, what have we done?" + +"It's what we _haven't_ done, pal!" Bud retorted. "We had a date this +afternoon, remember? That beach party and dance put on by Sandy and +Phyl's school sorority!" + +Tom gulped. "Oops! Boy, we really did pull a boner this time! I +completely forgot!" + +As they finished supper, the boys discussed various ways to make amends. +Boxes of chocolates? Flowers? None of their ideas seemed to have the +proper spark. + +"We'll have to come up with something super," Bud said. + +"Right!" Tom agreed. "Let's sleep on it and see if we can't dream up +something by tomorrow morning that'll really wow them." + +The next morning Tom had a flash of inspiration as he drove to the plant +in his sports car. He hailed Bud at the first opportunity. + +"I have it, pal! What say we stage an old-fashioned square dance Tuesday +night at the yacht club on Lake Carlopa?" + +Bud's eyes lighted up. "Hey, that's a great idea! We'll invite a whole +gang, get Chow to handle the refreshments, and make it a real shindig!" + +The boys shook hands enthusiastically. Eager to patch matters up as soon +as possible, they invited Sandy and Phyl out to lunch that day. Over +dessert, the boys announced their plans for a square dance. + +"We--uh--realize we goofed yesterday on that beach party," Tom said +sheepishly. "But we're hoping you'll give us another chance." + +The girls looked at each other, their eyes twinkling, then burst into +giggles. + +"You're forgiven completely!" Phyl declared. + +"Then it's a date?" Bud put in. + +"You bet it's a date, and don't you forget it!" Sandy warned. "Phyl and +I are going right over to Dorman's Department Store and pick out some +cute outfits for the dance!" + +Tom and Bud chuckled over the success of their scheme as they drove back +to Enterprises. Later that afternoon a telephone call interrupted Tom as +he worked in his lab on a sonic-communications system for the hydrolung +apparatus. + +"This is Lester Morris," said the voice at the other end of the line. +The name did not register with Tom at first until his caller added, "I +hear you're planning a square dance Tuesday night at the yacht club." + +Suddenly Tom remembered. Lester Morris was a popular dance orchestra +leader in and around Shopton. He was also much in demand as a +square-dance caller and fiddler. + +"That's right," Tom said with a chuckle. "News must travel fast. We just +phoned invitations to our friends." + +Morris asked if musicians had been hired for the evening. When Tom said +No, his caller volunteered for the job, offering to provide a small +combo of country-style players. His asking price sounded like a bargain +rate, and Tom, knowing Morris's reputation, was only too glad to engage +him. + +"Lucky break, his calling," the young inventor thought as he hung up. + +Bud was delighted to hear of the arrangement when he came into the +laboratory a while later. The boys talked over their dance plans for a +few moments, then Bud asked: + +"How's our underwater talkie system coming?" + +Tom scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "A bit tricky but not too +difficult," he replied. "It's mostly a job of adapting the sonarphone +arrangement from our Fat Man suits--in miniature." + +A tiny mike, Tom explained, would be installed on the inside of each +face mask, with its output feeding to a sonar transducer on the +exterior. The receiving transducers would feed from amplifiers to +earphones. The hookup would be powered by the solar battery in the +hydrolung power unit, by connecting wires through the breathing tube. + +"That's neat, Tom," Bud said. "Need any help?" + +"You can mold us a pair of new face masks--big enough to cover the +earphones," Tom suggested. He handed Bud a penciled sketch from the +workbench, adding, "Then drill the holes for the mikes and +earphones--the dimensions are there on the drawing. But watch it so +you don't crack the plastic." + +[Illustration: _Chow was wild-eyed with panic!_] + +While Bud complied, Tom began assembling the tiny electronic parts. In +two hours the gear was ready for testing. + +Tom wiped his perspiring forehead and gave Bud a grin of satisfaction. +"Go get your swim trunks, fly boy. Let's give it a tryout in the tank." + +"Swell idea! Be back in a jiff!" + +After a quick change, the boys strapped on the new hydrolung equipment. +Before adjusting his face mask, Tom mentioned that he had inserted +scrambling circuits into the communicators to foil any enemy +eavesdroppers. + +"If they do pick up anything, it'll sound like chop suey," Tom ended +with a chuckle. + +The boys submerged in the test tank and proceeded to give the new +underwater communication system a thorough check-out. It worked +perfectly. Ten minutes later Tom and Bud clambered out again, dripping +wet but well satisfied. + +They had just peeled off their masks when Chow came charging into the +lab, with a crowd of workmen and technicians at his heels. The cook was +wild-eyed with panic. + +"What's wrong, Chow?" Tom asked in alarm. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A MAGNETIC KIDNAPING + + +"The space people or some enemy's invadin' us!" Chow shouted. "Take a +squint through your telescope, boss! Brand my bazooka, they may be +landin' any second!" + +More people came streaming in, attracted by the chef's cries and +gesticulations. Some were bewildered, a few frightened. Others were +laughing, thinking the whole thing a joke. The scene was rapidly taking +on the proportions of a riot! + +"Whoa! Slow down, Chow!" Tom ordered, trying to make himself heard above +the din. + +"It--it's the truth, boss!" Chow stammered, mopping his brow with a huge +red bandanna. "Why, sufferin' rattlesnakes, didn't I hear 'em spoutin' +their space lingo with my own ears?" + +"You heard _what_?" Bud said. + +"Spoutin' space talk!" the cook repeated. "It come right over the +loud-speaker in the galley! They was chitter-chatterin' plottin' to blow +us all to smithereens!" + +"That's a fact! We heard it, too!" one of the workmen chimed in. + +Tom and Bud looked at each other blankly. Then suddenly Tom's eyes +kindled with a dawning suspicion. Whirling around, he rushed over to +inspect the public-address outlet on the wall. + +Meanwhile, Mr. Swift had just driven in through the main gate of +Enterprises. "What's going on?" he asked the guard at the gate, noting +the excited hubbub around Tom's laboratory. + +"Don't rightly know, sir," the guard replied. "I was wondering myself. I +know it sounds crazy, but I thought I heard someone yelling there was +going to be a space attack." + +Mr. Swift's eyebrows lifted in amazement. Without further discussion, he +stepped on the accelerator and sped off along the paved drive. Seconds +later, his car braked to a stop near Tom Jr.'s private laboratory. The +scientist jumped out and made his way through the milling crowd. + +"What's going on?" Mr. Swift stared in astonishment at Tom and Bud, who +were both doubled up with laughter. + +"A scrambled radio alert, Dad," Tom gasped between chuckles. "Chow +thought some Martian monsters were invading us, and sort of pushed the +panic button." + +The Texan blushed as Tom explained what had happened. Realizing Chow's +embarrassment, Tom tried to make his mistake sound understandable. + +Apparently the power line to the ion-drive control board had somehow +picked up the boys' scrambled conversation underwater. The signal had +been transferred by inductance in the wall wiring and amplified over the +public-address system. + +"Our wall mike was on," Tom added, "and it probably picked up some of +the sound waves from the tank. Anyhow," he concluded, slapping the cook +affectionately on the back, "I'm sure glad we have a wide-awake hombre +like Chow in the outfit. It wouldn't be the first time he's saved our +necks!" + +Chow perked up, and the employees, reassured, returned to their jobs. + +"I have some news of my own," Mr. Swift announced with a smile as the +room cleared. "But I'm afraid it'll sound pretty tame compared to a +space attack." + +"Let's hear it, Dad," Tom said eagerly. + +"I've been conducting some experiments with those space plants," the +elder scientist said. "It looks as though they may prove to be a +valuable nutritional source." + +The plants, Mr. Swift went on, showed promise of producing enormous +amounts of protein quickly and cheaply--enough to increase the world's +food supply by a sizable margin. Moreover, he had isolated a vitamin in +this protein not found in any of man's present foods. + +"Doc Simpson has been working with me," Mr. Swift concluded. "He has +been doing some experiments of his own with a vitamin extract from the +space plants. He thinks it may prove highly beneficial to human beings." + +Tom was thrilled, and even Bud realized that Mr. Swift's cautious report +could well turn out to be of history-making importance. + +"I'd say your news makes a phony space attack look pretty tame, Dad," +Tom said, his eyes flashing enthusiastically. "With the earth's +population increasing, this could be the answer to the food problem." + +"Don't tell Chow," Bud added, "or we may find spaceburgers on the next +menu!" + +The Swifts chuckled. Chow's hobby of concocting weird dishes was a +standing joke at Enterprises, and already had led to such dubious +triumphs as armadillo stew and rattlesnake soup. + +Monday morning Tom buckled down seriously to the job of designing an +undetectable sub. His drawing board was littered with sketches and +diagrams when the phone rang, breaking in on his thoughts. Tom answered +it with a scowl of impatience. The caller was Lester Morris. + +"Could you meet me at the yacht club to talk over the dance program?" +Morris asked. + +Tom hesitated. For Sandy's and Phyl's sakes he was eager to do +everything possible to make the square dance a success. But on the other +hand.... + +"I'm pretty busy today," Tom said. "But my sister and my friend Bud +Barclay can tell you what we want--probably better than I can. Suppose I +ask them to meet you there after lunch?" + +There was a slight pause. "Very well," Morris agreed, although he +sounded a bit annoyed. + +After hanging up, Tom phoned Bud and asked him to keep the appointment. +Bud was only too happy to oblige, jumping at the chance to take Sandy +out to lunch beforehand. + +At one o'clock the husky young pilot and his date strolled into the +yacht club lounge. Lester Morris was nowhere in sight, so they sat down +to wait. Twenty minutes later the musician still had not appeared. + +"I hope he hasn't forgotten," Sandy said, glancing at her wrist watch. + +"If he's a square-dance caller, his memory ought to be extra good," Bud +joked. "Fine thing if he can't even remember the time of day!" + +After waiting a while longer, Bud decided to telephone Morris's home. +But at that moment a thin, seedy-looking man came into the lounge. His +close-set eyes and loudly striped suit combined to give him a somewhat +disreputable appearance. + +"Good grief! Len Unger!" Sandy whispered. "What does he want with us?" + +Unger was walking straight toward them. Both Bud and Sandy had met him +occasionally around town and found him obnoxious. + +"Sorry, but Morris got tied up," Unger informed them. "He sent me to +talk to you." + +Sandy's blue eyes met Bud's in a flicker of distaste, but she tried to +conceal her feelings. "Please sit down," she invited Unger politely. +"What square-dance numbers does Mr. Morris do?" + +Len Unger shrugged. "You name 'em." + +"But, my goodness," Sandy said, puzzled, "how do we know he'll have the +squares I name?" + +Unger stared at her as if he did not quite understand. "You mean, can he +call off the dances you want? If he can't, I'll let you know." + +"Does he do patter calls or singing calls?" Bud put in. + +Again Unger hesitated, then said, "Both." + +"Wonderful!" Sandy exclaimed gleefully. "I thought he only did singing +calls." After a moment's thought, she went on, "Well, let's see. What +about 'Birdie in the Cage'?... And 'The Gal from Arkansas' ... 'Uptown +and Downtown'...." + +Unger jotted the names on the back of an envelope. Pausing a moment, he +remarked, "Guess your brother was too busy to make it today, eh, Miss +Swift? What kind of ex-spearmints is he working on now?" + +"I really couldn't say," Sandy replied coldly. She always made it a +point not to discuss Tom Jr.'s or her father's research work with +outsiders. + +Unger persisted chattily, "I read where he handled that Jupiter probe +shoot for the Navy." + +"Let's get back to square dancing," snapped Bud. As he and Sandy +finished planning the program, Len Unger continued to drop remarks and +questions about "The Great Tom Swift" and his inventions. All prying +queries were side-stepped. + +As soon as possible Sandy and Bud cut short the conversation and left +the yacht club. Unger's face wore an angry sneer as they walked out. + +"What a creep!" Bud said, when he and Sandy were driving back in his red +convertible. + +Meanwhile, in his private laboratory at Enterprises, Tom was somewhat +discouraged. He had tried several different experimental attacks on the +problem of an undetectable submarine. None had worked out successfully. + +"I thought that idea of a sonar-wave baffle might lead somewhere," he +murmured, "but it looks as though I'm wrong." + +Flopping down on a stool at his workbench, Tom cupped his chin in his +hands. He was frowning, deep in thought, as the pudgy figure of Chow +Winkler came into the laboratory. + +"'Smatter, boss?" the cook inquired cheerfully. "Ain't your ole think +box workin' today?" + +"Doesn't seem to be," Tom confessed. + +"Give it time, son. Tomorrow's another day," Chow said philosophically. +"What you need is a haircut for the square dance." + +Tom laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe you're right, Chow. Might help +me think better." + +Tom got off the stool and stretched out the kinks in his legs. He +strolled outside with Chow, then scootered to the parking lot and hopped +into his sleek, silver sports car. + +A moment later he was whizzing off in the direction of Shopton. Nearing +town, Tom turned off on a side-road short cut. He noticed in his mirror +that a truck behind him also turned off. + +"Really barreling along!" Tom thought. "If you're in such a hurry, the +road's yours, pal." + +He pulled over sharply, motioning the truck to pass. Instead, to Tom's +surprise, it closed in straight behind him. The next moment, Tom saw a +port open below the truck's hood and a strange-looking device pop out on +a springlike steel cable. + +It clamped magnetically to Tom's rear bumper! His car was caught like a +fish on a line! + +Tom stepped on the accelerator, trying to pull free. The truck at once +swerved off the road, steering around a utility pole. As the cable +tautened, there was a sickening screech of metal and the sports car was +brought to a crashing halt! + +Tom's head slammed against the side window. With a groan, the young +inventor blacked out. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +TELEPHONE CODE + + +As he regained consciousness, Tom's eyes fluttered open. Sparks of pain +shot through his head. A groan escaped his lips. + +"Oo-o! What hit me?" Tom wondered. + +He was lying on a sofa in a strange room. Someone was seated nearby, +watching him. Tom tried to move his limbs and sit up. Then he discovered +that his wrists and ankles were tied with sash cord. + +"Better lie still, sonny boy," a gruff voice advised. "You ain't goin' +nowhere." + +The man who had spoken got up from his chair and came over to the sofa. +He was of medium height, very muscular looking, with cold, glittering +eyes. Rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed his powerful, hairy arms. + +"Where am I?" Tom asked, suddenly remembering the events on the road +before he blacked out. "And what's this all about?" + +The man said with a mirthless grin, "You're a prisoner. And you're goin' +to stay here until the cops let Dimitri Mirov go. It's up to you how +fast they spring him." + +The huge man lifted a telephone from an end table adjoining the sofa and +set it on the floor alongside Tom. + +"Here's a phone. Go ahead and use it, but don't try any funny stuff." + +In spite of his headache, Tom's brain was racing. What to do now? He +shut his eyes and screwed up his face in an expression of pain, +pretending to be still groggy while he stalled for time to figure out +his next move. + +"How can _I_ get Mirov out of jail?" Tom faltered. + +"You figure it out!" the man snarled. "And you'd better get results if +you want to stay healthy!" + +Through half-slitted eyes, Tom noted the telephone number printed on the +dial. Evidently his captor had not thought to remove it from the +instrument. A lucky break! + +If only, Tom thought, he could devise some way to transmit the number to +Ames without arousing his captor's suspicion--the phone's location could +then be traced! + +What about some sort of double-talk code? For instance, Tom told +himself, keep slipping numbers into the conversation in order to +transmit the digits of the telephone number. Would Ames catch on? + +The number shown was BArwick 3-7156. BA on the dial would be the same as +"2, 2." + +"Come on! Quit stalling!" the man said threateningly. + +"How can I dial with my hands tied?" Tom objected. + +"I'll do the dialing, wise guy!" + +He lifted the phone from its cradle and extended it to his prisoner. Tom +told him the Enterprises number, then asked for Ames's extension as the +switchboard operator answered. A moment later the security chief's voice +came over the line. + +"Ames speaking." + +"This is Tom Jr., Harlan." His captor bent close to the receiver as Tom +replied, in order to overhear what was being said. "I've been thinking," +the young inventor went on, "that it might be smart to have Mirov +released." + +"_Released!_" Ames gasped in surprise. "But why, skipper?" + +"Well ... er ... as a good-will gesture," Tom said. "I think it might +prevent future trouble with the Brungarians, don't you?" + +"I do not!" Ames exploded. "The idea sounds crazy!" + +"I don't think it's _too_ crazy or _too_ risky," Tom argued. By +emphasizing the words, he hoped to impress them on Ames's mind. + +[Illustration: _"Come on! Quit stalling," the man threatened_] + +Tom's tone of voice and the farfetched nature of what he was saying had +already triggered the security chief's suspicions. "Where are you +calling from?" Ames asked after a tense pause. + +"Shopton," Tom replied. "I just drove in for a haircut." With a chuckle, +he added, "Haven't had one in _three_ months. That's a whole _week_ +longer than I usually go!" + +Would Ames understand that by "week" he meant _seven_ days?... "_It's +the best I can do_," Tom thought. + +"Look, skipper, are you sure you want Mirov let out?" Ames said slowly. +"I still think it's unwise." + +"Consider it an order!" Tom snapped. "This is _one_ thing I insist upon, +Harlan. Shouldn't take more than _five_ or _six_ hours, should it, even +if he has to wire the Brungarian Embassy to put up bail?" + +"It can probably be handled faster than that--if he has any friends +around town," Ames said. + +Tom took the cue. "Could be," he replied meaningfully. + +Tom's captor snatched the phone away and slammed it back on the hook. +"All right, smart boy! That's enough!" he growled, glaring at Tom. + +Back at Enterprises, Ames hung up thoughtfully. Tom's reply to his last +question about Mirov having "friends around town" had convinced Ames +that the young inventor was a prisoner, speaking under duress. Moreover, +it had seemed as if someone else's breathing was faintly audible in the +background, close to the phone. + +_But what message had Tom tried to convey?_ + +As a routine security-department precaution, Ames's phone was connected +to a recorder which automatically taped all calls. Now, while he +pondered the problem, Ames pressed a foot-treadle switch to play back +the conversation. + +Meanwhile, Tom and his captor waited tensely. From time to time the +latter glanced at his watch. "Better hope that call does the trick, +Swift," he muttered. "It's the only hope you got of leavin' here alive!" + +"How will you know if they've turned Mirov loose?" Tom asked. He was +wondering if he might persuade his captor to let him make a second call. + +"Don't worry. Mirov knows how to contact me." + +Half an hour dragged by--then forty minutes. Suddenly the door buzzer +rang sharply. The man jerked to attention, obviously startled. He +glanced at Tom, then toward the direction of the sound, moistening his +lips nervously. + +"He must have been expecting just a phone call," Tom decided. + +The buzzer shrilled again. This time the man got up from his chair, +gagged Tom hastily with a handkerchief, and went to the door. + +"Who's there?" he asked loudly. + +"Mirov! Let me in, Duffy!" replied an accented voice from outside. + +With a look of relief, Duffy started to open the door--then froze as he +saw not only Mirov, but two police officers and Ames accompanying him. + +"Are you the one who's going to put up bail?" one of the officers +demanded. + +Duffy floundered, scenting danger but unable to pick up any clue from +Mirov's face. "Why--uh--yeah, maybe. How much is it?" + +"Ten million! Can you raise it?" Ames snapped sarcastically. + +As Duffy gaped in confusion, the officers suddenly flung their weight +forward. The door flew open and Duffy was thrown back, almost losing his +balance. Beyond, through the small vestibule, Ames caught a glimpse of +Tom on the sofa. + +"There he is!" Ames shouted. + +Moments later, Tom was untied. Mirov and Duffy were handcuffed together. + +The young inventor shook hands joyfully with his rescuers. "Nice going, +Harlan! Boy, I was sweating icicles here, wondering if you'd be able to +decipher all my double talk!" + +"You made the numbers clear enough," the security chief said with a +grin, "but it took a while to guess what they stood for. And then, of +course, we had to trace the address through the telephone company." + +Eying the ugly bruise on Tom's forehead, Ames added, "Sure you're all +right?" + +"Right now I feel swell!" Tom declared, chuckling. He told of his +kidnaping, while one of the officers took down the details. + +The prisoners were taken off to jail in the police squad car. Tom and +Ames, meanwhile, in the security chief's high-powered sedan, drove to +the scene of Tom's capture. + +They found his sports car badly damaged. The right side was wedged +against the utility pole, which was leaning at a crazy angle. + +Ames whistled and shook his head. "Boy! You're lucky you got off with +just a bruise, Tom!" + +"You're telling me," the young inventor agreed ruefully. + +After calling a repair garage to send out a wrecker, they drove to the +Swifts' home. Mrs. Swift and Sandy, previously unaware of Tom's plight, +were horrified to hear what had happened. The sight of Tom's bruise also +upset them. + +Tom did his best to allay their concern, but finally allowed himself to +be hustled up to bed. Dr. Emerson, the Swifts' family physician, was +immediately summoned to the house. He pronounced the bruise not serious, +but advised that Tom remain quiet, at least for the rest of the day. + +Bud came to visit the young inventor that evening, just as Sandy was +bringing up a tray. On it was a sizzling T-bone steak. + +"Wow! Wish I could have that kind of service," Bud said jokingly. Then +he became serious. "I'd sure like to meet that creep who snagged you, +Tom. What a fiendish trick! You realize you might have been killed?" + +"I realize it, all right," Tom said wryly. + +The next morning Tom felt no ill effects from his grim adventure and +insisted upon driving to Enterprises. He phoned Admiral Walter, whose +report was bleak--the searchers had still gleaned no trace of the buried +missile. + +Refusing to be discouraged by the news, or lack of news, Tom went to his +private laboratory and applied himself once again to the problem of +building an "invisible" submarine. But again success eluded him. + +At last Tom shook his head in disgust. "May as well get that haircut I +started out for yesterday," he decided. + +Before leaving, Tom phoned Phyl Newton to thank her for the gift of +fruit and nuts she had brought over the previous evening after learning +of his dangerous experience. They chatted for a while and wound up by +making a date for lunch. + +Tom drove back to town in the family car and got a haircut. Then he +picked up Phyl at her home and took her to the yacht club. Here they +lunched on the terrace overlooking the sparkling blue waters of Lake +Carlopa. + +The young inventor's spirits were high when he finally returned to his +laboratory and buckled down to work. + +"I'll lick this problem yet," he muttered. "Those enemies of ours are +clever, but if they can produce an undetectable sub, there's no reason +why I can't do the same." + +Deep in thought, Tom idly fingered a microphone on his workbench. + +"In fact," the young inventor mused, "why not go them one better? I'll +invent a submarine that's not only invisible to sonar, but equipped to +_see them_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SQUARE-DANCE HOAX + + +Random hunches and circuit diagrams flashed through Tom's brain. "The +job will boil down to blotting out sonar waves and piercing the enemy's +own 'wave-trap defense,'" the young scientist concluded. + +As Tom struggled with the problem, he lost all track of time. A door +swung open and high-heeled boots clumped on the floor tiles. Tom looked +up and saw the portly, aproned figure of Chow Winkler entering. + +"Hi, boss! Can I borrow a radio?" Chow asked. "Kinda like a lil music +while I wrassle them pots an' pans in the galley." + +"Sure, pardner." Tom pointed toward a portable radio on a shelf nearby. + +Chow's leathery face broke into a grin as he picked it up. "One o' them +slick lil transistor doodads, eh?" + +The cook flicked on the dial knob and the twangy strains of Hawaiian +guitar music came throbbing out. A split second later the volume swelled +as the same music echoed back to them from the two-room apartment +adjoining the lab, where Tom ate and slept when engaged in some +round-the-clock experiment. + +Chow was startled by the blare. "You got a stereo hookup here, boss?" he +inquired. + +"Not exactly." Tom explained that the music had merely been picked up by +the mike on his workbench, then fed into the adjoining apartment and +amplified over a speaker there. + +Chow grinned, snapping his fingers to the catchy melody. "Comes out even +louder'n it does from the radio!" + +"Yes, but the sound quality's not so good," Tom said. "You'd notice the +difference with real stereo." + +Chow walked out with the portable, crooning contentedly to the music. + +Tom frowned, trying to get his train of thought to focus once more on +the submarine problem. But for some reason the business with the +microphone and the speaker in the next room kept lingering in his mind. + +Suddenly Tom exclaimed aloud, "Say! I wonder if that's how the enemy sub +blinds our sonar?" + +The idea certainly seemed feasible. Suppose the submarine used a great +many "microphones"--or receiving transducers--to pick up the sonar +pulses beamed out by another craft trying to detect it? These impulses +could then be passed on and sent out by speakers on the opposite side of +the sub, and relayed along on their underwater path of travel. + +Thus the sonar waves would appear to be striking no obstacle--and no +echo would return to the sonarscopes on the search craft! + +"Jumping jets!" Tom thumped his fist on the workbench in his excitement. +"I'll bet that's the answer, all right!" He grinned. "Brand my boot +heels, it's partly due to good old Chow!" + +He grabbed a pencil and began sketching his idea on paper. It would be +necessary to spot the receivers and transmitters all over the hull of +the submarine. Diagrams and pages of scribbled computations followed the +rough sketches. + +An invisible sub--one that sonar pulses would seem to pass right +through, as if nothing were there! "Seems so simple now that I have the +key!" Tom said to himself elatedly. + +Hours ticked by while he analyzed the wave action mathematically, then +worked out a typical hookup for one of his jetmarines in a set of +precise schematic drawings. + +Finally the young inventor dropped his pencil, picked up the telephone, +and dialed Bud Barclay. + +"Hop over here, fly boy," Tom told his chum. "Something hot on the +griddle!" + +Bud arrived in a few moments. Tom showed him the drawings and explained +his plan for dodging underwater detection. He also related how Chow's +remarks about the radio music had sparked the idea. + +His chum slapped him on the back. "Good going, Tom!" + +"Let's fly right over to Fearing and see how it works on a jetmarine!" +Tom proposed enthusiastically. + +Bud grinned but made no move. He stood looking at Tom, arms folded and +feet wide apart. + +"Well, let's go, pal!" Tom urged impatiently, puzzled by Bud's lack of +response. + +"What about the square dance?" + +Tom stopped short, feeling like a punctured balloon. He stared in dismay +at his smiling, dark-haired copilot. "Good night! I forgot again!" + +With a sigh, Tom added, "You're right, of course. We sure can't let the +girls down twice. But at least let's get together all the gear we'll +need when we _do_ go to Fearing." + +"I guess we'll have time for _that_," Bud conceded with a sympathetic +grin. + +Tom assembled a mass of electronic equipment and phoned various +Enterprises' departments for other items. Bud helped to collect them, +and the boys trucked the paraphernalia out to a hangar to be loaded +aboard a Whirling Duck. Then they scootered back to the lab for a quick +shower and change. + +Twenty minutes later, in sport jackets, checked shirts, and slacks, the +two chums hopped into Bud's red convertible. They picked up Sandy and +Phyl and drove a little way into the country for dinner at a huge old +farmhouse restaurant. + +"Well, the evening's off to a good start," Sandy said with a happy laugh +as they headed back along the lakeshore road to the yacht club. + +"Hope I didn't put away too much fried chicken to sashay properly at the +square dance," Bud remarked. + +Tom chuckled. "Don't worry, pal. You always untangle those feet of yours +when the fiddle strikes up!" + +The blazing lights of the yacht club were reflected in the blue-black +mirror of the boat basin. Bud parked and they went inside. + +"Welcome, buckaroos!" Chow Winkler greeted them with an enthusiastic +bellow as they entered the dance room. + +The old cowpoke was splendidly dressed in a maroon satin shirt and white +whipcord breeches tucked into shiny new boots. But instead of his usual +sombrero, a chef's cap was perched on his head. + +"Chow! You look marvelous!" Sandy said. + +The cook blushed with pleasure. "You gals look purty enough to charm a +hoot owl right off'n his perch!" he shot back. Both Phyl and Sandy were +wearing gay calico dresses that had full swirling skirts. + +The room was decked out with colored bunting and twisted crepe-paper +streamers. And at one end of the dance room, Chow had rigged up a model +of a Western chuck wagon. + +"Real atmosphere!" Tom said admiringly. "Chow, you've done us proud!" + +"Thanks, boss." The cook, who had asked especially to take charge of the +decorations, glowed at the praise. Then he became serious. "But what's +keepin' that dad-blamed fiddler?" + +The guests soon began to stream in, but half an hour went by, and Lester +Morris and his fellow musicians had not arrived. + +"I'd better phone his house," Tom decided worriedly. + +Mrs. Morris answered. She seemed surprised at Tom's call. "Why, my +husband's playing at a party over in Carterton this evening," she said. +"Are you sure you engaged him for tonight?" + +"I'm positive," Tom replied. + +"Just a moment, please. I'll look in his date book to see if there's +been a mistake." + +A minute later her voice came over the line again. "I'm terribly sorry, +Mr. Swift, but your name isn't listed anywhere on Lester's schedule." + +The others saw from Tom's face as he hung up that something was wrong. + +"What gives?" Bud asked anxiously. + +"No music for one thing." Tom reported what Mrs. Morris had told him. + +"But you hired the guy!" Bud protested. "And Sandy and I talked to his +agent!" + +Tom was already piecing together the mystery. He shook his head +thoughtfully. "I'm sure now the whole deal was a hoax, Bud," he +declared. "Both the first call that supposedly came from Lester Morris, +and the second one asking me to come here and talk things over." + +By not responding to the second call in person, Tom went on, he had +probably saved himself from being waylaid or kidnaped by his enemies. + +"Thank goodness!" Sandy exclaimed. "Still, that creepy Len Unger was +trying to get information from us." + +"But how did your enemy know about the dance, Tom?" Phyl Newton put in. + +Sandy snapped her fingers. "I know! I'll bet it was when we went +shopping for our dresses, Phyl, right after the boys invited us! The +department store was full of people--almost anyone might have heard us +discussing the dance!" + +"Especially if he was already trailing you to pick up bits of useful +information," Tom agreed. + +Bud whipped out a handkerchief and mopped his face nervously. "The +question is what do we do now, chums? A roomful of guests and no music!" + +"Relax, pardners!" Chow broke in cheerfully. "Just keep things goin' for +a spell, an' I'll fix things up pronto!" + +Doffing his chef's cap, Chow hustled out to his parked jeep and took off +with a roar. Mystified but hopeful, Tom, Bud, and Phyl did their best to +entertain the guests. Sandy had rushed to the telephone. In twenty +minutes Chow came rushing back. + +"Hey! He has a fiddle!" Bud exclaimed. + +Mounting the platform, the stout cowpoke raised his hands and shouted +for attention. + +"Ladies an' gents, we'll start off with that good old dance known as the +Texas Star!" + +As everyone took his place, Chow tuned up hastily. Then he tucked the +fiddle under his chin, stomped out the rhythm, and launched into a +lively rendition of "Turkey in the Straw" while he called out the +accompaniment: + + "_Gals to the middle, then back so far! + Gents step up for a clockwise star! + Now shift hands and twirl t'other way, + We'll keep on dancin' till the break o' day...._" + +The dance number finally ended to thunderous applause. Chow, puffing and +red-faced but wreathed in smiles, was soon ready for another. Half an +hour later, a dance band of high school boys, hastily summoned by Sandy, +arrived to spell the Texan. + +The irrepressible chef, however, continued to call out most of the +numbers and proved to be the hero of the evening. He gained even more +acclaim for his delicious French fried potatoes and "steerburgers" +served during the pause for refreshments. + +"Oh, Chow! What would we ever do without you?" Sandy said, and the cook +beamed. + +Suddenly, in the midst of the lively chatter and laughter, the dance +floor was plunged into total darkness! + +Phyl clung fearfully to her escort. "Tom!" she gasped. "This is another +trick of your enemy's to harm you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DETECTION TEST + + +"Don't worry, Phyl. It may be only a blown fuse," Tom tried to assure +the fearful girl. + +But Tom was worried himself. Not only might he be in danger, but it +could involve his friends! + +Nevertheless, he raised his voice above the excited babble. "Please be +calm, everyone! We'll have the lights on again in a jiffy!" + +Taking Phyl by the hand, Tom groped his way toward the main door. + +"Let's check the switch," he murmured, and ran his hand over the wall +near the door. He located the metal plate and flipped the switch. + +The lights went on! Good-natured cheers arose. Bud, grinning but +puzzled, left Sandy's side long enough to come over and speak to Tom. + +"What happened?" + +"I guess some practical joker clicked off the switch." + +Bud suddenly caught sight of a stout youth in a plaid shirt and blue +jeans, who was standing in a nearby corner. He was shaking all over with +half-stifled merriment. + +"There's the wise guy! Rock Harriman!" + +Rock, an all-star tackle on the Shopton High football team, was well +known for his pranks and practical jokes. Bud rushed over. + +"Okay! Confess!" the husky young flier roared in a jokingly ferocious +tone. + +"Don't get sore!" Rock gasped between chuckles. "I couldn't resist. Boy, +did you hear everyone squeal when the lights went out?" + +Tom grinned in relief. "How about another dance, Phyl?" + +As the music struck up again, he squeezed Phyl's hand. "I sure +appreciate your concern, even if I didn't rate it." + +Phyl blushed as she returned the squeeze. "You rate with me," she +confided shyly. + +The festivities finally ended after a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Both +Sandy and Phyl declared to their dates that it more than made up for the +forgotten beach party. + +"But let's not wait too long for the next date," Sandy warned playfully. + +"Okay, that's a deal," Bud promised. + +The next morning at the plant Tom called on Harlan Ames. He told of the +sinister hoax by the caller who had passed himself off as Lester Morris. +The security chief promised to investigate. + +"I'll tip off the police about Len Unger," Ames added. "If they can find +him, we may be able to crack this case wide open." + +Tom telephoned Bud, Hank Sterling, and Arv Hanson to meet him at the +helijet hangar. The four took off in one of the Swifts' Whirling Ducks, +which was standing by loaded and ready. Soon they landed on Fearing +Island, where Tom would try out his antidetection invention. + +"What'll we use for a test sub, skipper?" Hank asked as they drove +toward the docks. + +"A jetmarine," Tom replied. + +A truck with engineers and technicians was following the jeep. It +carried the equipment which Tom and Bud had assembled the previous day. + +When they arrived at the docks, Tom gathered the men in a loading shed. +He showed them his drawings and explained how his "sonar-blinding" setup +would operate. + +"Don't let the diagrams fool you. The basic idea is very simple. We +absorb all sonar impulses that hit the ship and transmit them out the +opposite side of the hull, instead of letting a ping bounce back and +show up on the sonarscope of any hostile sub on the lookout for us." + +Most of the job, he went on, would be tedious detail work. It would +consist of attaching hundreds of mikes and speakers all over the hull to +pick up and transmit the sonar pulses. The mikes would be receiving +transducers and the speakers would be transmitting transducers. + +"The leads from them," Tom ended, "will be centralized in a single +electronic control unit inside the ship. I'll handle that part of it." + +"Great idea, Tom!" Arv Hanson said admiringly. + +"But what a job it'll be rigging those transducers," put in one of the +technicians. + +Tom nodded wryly. "You're right, Danny. If this experiment works out, +though, I think I can lick that problem on future installations." + +The young inventor explained that he hoped to find a way to mold the +transducers into a continuous plastic sheet. This could be applied to +the hull of a submarine in a single operation. + +"But this time we'll have to do it the hard way," Tom added with an +apologetic grin. + +A jetmarine was hoisted into drydock and the work crew swarmed over it, +rigging the transducers. Would his experiment succeed? Tom wondered. +Hopefully, he set to work assembling the electronic control unit. + +Bud helped the men on the hull for a while, then descended through the +hatch to see how Tom was progressing. + +[Illustration: _Would his experiment succeed? Tom wondered_] + +"I'd go gaga trying to keep track of those circuits," Bud said, as he +watched Tom installing the delicate transistors and other components +with an electric soldering gun. + +The young inventor grinned. "It'll be simple enough when the control +unit's all put together," he replied. "Just a single on-off switch and +one test circuit." + +By noon, after working at a frenzied pace, the job was done. Tom thanked +each one of the men personally. Then everyone went to eat lunch. + +After the meal, Hank Sterling asked, "How about a detection test to see +how she works?" + +"Coming right up," Tom said. "Want to skipper the jetmarine, Bud?" + +"Sure do!" + +"Okay. Pick out a couple of men for a crew and take her down." Tom +produced a hydrographic chart of the waters around Fearing and marked +out a test area. "Cruise around there for an hour and we'll try to spot +you in the _Sea Hound_." + +"Hide and seek, eh?" Bud grinned and snapped a salute, then left to +supervise the relaunching of the jetmarine. + +For his crew, Bud chose Mel Flagler and another man. Mel was an +experienced jetmariner who had gone on the Swift expedition to Aurum +City, the underwater ruins of a lost civilization. Here Tom had used his +spectromarine selector to restore the ancient buildings. + +Tom, Hank, and Arv went back to the airfield and soon took off in the +diving seacopter. Landing on the water, they submerged and began the +undersea detection test. + +Tom manned the sonarscope personally, eager to conduct as careful a +search as possible. + +"Getting any blips, skipper?" Hank called out from his post at the _Sea +Hound_'s controls. + +"Not a ping, Hank. The system seems to be working out even better than +I'd hoped." + +Tom felt a glow of satisfaction. He explained, however, that the +jetmarine's transparent nose pane--which had to be left unprotected for +the pilot's visibility--offered one vulnerable spot to sonar detection. + +"But a little smart maneuvering can cover up that angle," Tom added. +"Try the hydrophones, Arv, and see if you can hear 'em." + +The chief modelmaker slipped on the earphones and listened intently. For +another ten or fifteen minutes they probed about with no sound trace of +the "invisible" jetmarine. + +But presently Arv snapped his fingers to catch Tom's attention. "Got +her, skipper!" + +Tom took over the hydrophones. Sure enough, his ears could make out the +faint hum of the jetmarine's atomic turbines. Tom directed Hank toward +the sound, then ordered him to switch on the _Sea Hound_'s powerful +search beam. + +The light cut a path of radiance through the murky dark-green waters. +Dead ahead, the jetmarine could be seen gliding across their field of +view. + +"Your system blinded our sonar okay, skipper," Hank commented, "but this +proves she could still be spotted by enemy listening devices." + +Tom refused to be discouraged. He ordered Hank to return to base and +wait for Bud. Meanwhile, the young inventor applied himself to the +problem of how to mask the sub's noise. + +"How about it, pal?" Bud asked, when he reported aboard the seacopter a +while later. + +Tom explained the results of the test and the need for an added +safeguard against hydrophone detection. "Think I see a simple way out, +though," he added with a pleased chuckle. + +"Natch! With a brain like yours, it's a cinch," Bud quipped. "Explain, +professor." + +"Well, we can never do away with the noise of a sub's propulsion +machinery," Tom began. "That goes without saying. So we'll have to +camouflage it--lose it in the underwater jungle noises, so to speak." + +Bud scratched his head. "How do we do that?" + +"By amplifying the natural undersea sounds all about it," Tom explained. +"Fish and all forms of underwater life make a background noise over the +hydrophones, you know." + +As Bud nodded, Tom went on, "So we simply step up the volume till the +sub's own noise gets drowned out or 'wasted' in all the racket." + +This could be done, he concluded, with fairly simple amplifying +equipment. Bud, Hank, and Arv were jubilant at the idea. + +"Nice going," Bud said. "How soon can we give it a try?" + +"Soon as I can rig up the amplifier," Tom promised. + +In less than two hours they were ready to submerge again. Zimby Cox +joined the crew. Bud suggested taking along hydrolungs in case of any +need for tinkering with the transducers or amplifying equipment. + +This time, the jetmarine scored perfectly on the test, successfully +eluding all the _Sea Hound_'s efforts to detect it. Tom returned happily +to base, feeling that the antidetection problem was now solved. The +jetmarine, however, failed to appear. + +"That's funny. The test was over at four-fifteen," Tom murmured. + +"Maybe Bud surfaced out at sea somewhere," Arv Hanson suggested. + +Repeated radio calls brought no response. Tom, now seriously worried, +took the seacopter down again for another search, hoping that Bud would +have switched off the antidetection gear by this time. But neither +sonarscope nor listening devices revealed the slightest clue. + +Tom, Hank, and Arv exchanged fearful glances. Had the jetmarine +foundered on the ocean bottom--perhaps fouled somehow by Tom's new +invention? Or had Bud and his crew fallen victim to the enemy? + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ENEMY FROGMEN + + +At the end of the test period, Bud had prepared to bring the jetmarine +to the surface. But just as he was about to blow the ballast tanks, Mel +Flagler sang out a warning from the sonarscope. + +"Whoa! Hold it, skipper! I think we have company on the starboard beam!" + +Bud jerked his head around in surprise. "You mean the _Sea Hound_?" + +"No, she surfaced," Mel reported. "Can't make this out yet, but it could +be another sub." + +Bud turned the controls over to Zimby Cox. Then he rushed to the scope +and examined the blip. "Seems to be moving away from us on a westerly +course. It's about two miles from here." + +He donned the hydrophone earset and listened. "It's no seacopter, nor a +jetmarine either," he announced presently. + +"A Navy sub, maybe?" suggested Zimby. + +Bud shrugged. "Let's find out." He ordered a change of course, hard to +the right, and gunned the jets to bring the jetmarine directly on the +mystery object's trail. + +"It's a sub, all right," he said a short time later, listening again +over the hydrophones. + +"Pretty close to Fearing Island, isn't it?" put in Mel Flagler. "That's +a government-restricted area." + +Bud nodded grimly. "But staying just out of sonar range from the base." + +The jetmarine closed steadily on its quarry. In a few minutes they were +able to make it out dimly through the cabin window, dead ahead. + +"That's sure no U.S. Navy sub that I know of," Bud said. "Probably an +enemy snooper." + +"What if they spot us?" Zimby asked. + +Bud chuckled. "That's the beauty of it, pal! Don't forget. With this new +antidetection gear we're invisible to them. At least as long as they +don't run into us or we into them," he added. + +"Or unless they have superdetection equipment we don't know about," +cautioned Mel Flagler. + +As they talked, the unidentified submarine was bearing steadily toward +the mainland. Fathometer soundings showed it was on a steep upward slope +of the continental shelf. + +Presently a foaming gush of bubbles showed that the sub ahead was +blowing its tanks. The jetmarine followed as it surfaced and Bud hastily +manned the periscope. + +"What're they up to?" Mel asked tensely. + +"Don't know yet, but the hatch is opening," Bud reported. Suddenly he +gave an excited gasp. "Jumpin' jets! They're sending out a couple of +frogmen!" + +Bud's companions were electrified by the news. + +"Spies!" Zimby exclaimed. + +"What do we do now?" piped up Mack Avery, the third man in Bud's crew. +"Hadn't we better radio the Coast Guard and the FBI?" + +Bud wrenched away from the eyepiece. "I have another idea! Any of you +fellows game to go with me and capture those spies?" + +All three of his companions volunteered eagerly. Bud chose Mel Flagler, +then took another sight through the periscope. + +"The sub's submerging again," he reported. "That'll give us a clear +field. Zimby, you and Mack keep an eye on that baby while we're gone, +and be plenty careful she doesn't spot you!" + +"Roger! And take this roll of wire to tie up your prisoners." + +Hastily Bud and Mel changed into swimming trunks and donned hydrolungs. +They went out through the air lock, plunged into the bracing salt water, +and switched on their ion-drive units. + +"Can you see 'em?" Mel asked over his mike. + +"Not yet. Let's speed up before we lose 'em completely!" + +Both pushed their ion drives to capacity, scanning the water ahead in +all directions. + +"There they are!" Bud exclaimed presently. He pointed to two tiny +figures, barely visible in the distance. + +"Wow! They're sure not wasting any time!" Mel muttered. "Let's step on +it, Bud! They'll be ashore in a minute!" + +A darting school of sea bass screened the figures briefly from view. As +the fish flickered past, Mel and Bud saw the frogmen breast-stroke up +toward the surface and break water. + +Bud and Mel followed. Ahead lay a barren stretch of beach, humped with +sand dunes. It was skirted beyond by a thick fringe of trees. + +"They certainly picked a perfect spot for a sneak landing!" Bud thought. +The beach seemed totally deserted, with no sign of human habitation. + +By this time, the frogmen were scrambling ashore. Within moments, Bud +and Mel were on their heels. The raiders whirled in dismay as they +caught the sound of footsteps rushing up behind them through the sand. + +Bud and Mel hurled themselves forward, each dropping a man with a flying +tackle. All four went down in a struggling, kicking tangle of arms and +legs. + +The battle was rough but short. Bud and Mel had the advantage of +surprise, and soon pommeled and grappled their foes into submission. + +Bud, astride his opponent's chest with knees pinning the man's arms, +unlooped from his belt the wire he had brought. + +"Here! Take some of this and wire your man's wrists together!" Bud told +Mel. + +When the frogmen were safely bound, Bud and Mel allowed them to stand +up. Neither captive tried to escape. + +"Now, my sneaky friends, talk!" Bud snapped. "What kind of a sightseeing +trip did you plan?" + +The frogmen's jaws remained tightly clamped. Both looked flushed and +sullen as they faced their captors. + +"Got their lips zipped, I guess," Mel said disgustedly. + +Bud decided to try another tack. "Doesn't matter," he said carelessly. +"We know they're pals of the Mirovs." + +Both men started as if they had been stung. Bud followed up quickly, +hoping to prod them into some unguarded remark. + +"Just as we thought!" he snarled. "A couple of low-down Brungarian +rebels! And up to their usual amateurish spy stunts!" + +The raiders' eyes blazed, but they maintained silence. Both, however, +kept darting looks of keen interest at the Americans' hydrolung gear. + +Just as Bud was wondering how he could get the prisoners to the nearest +police headquarters, a jeep came bouncing into view across the sand. + +"Hey! Police!" Mel exclaimed with a happy grin. + +"We're in luck," Bud said. "They can take these creeps off our hands." + +The jeep braked to a halt a few yards away, and two uniformed officers +hopped out. + +"What's going on here?" said one, who was wearing a sergeant's stripes. +The jeep had the words BEACH PATROL stenciled on it in white paint. + +"We just nailed these two Brungarian frogmen," Bud explained. "A sub put +them ashore--probably as spies or saboteurs. They won't talk to us, but +maybe you can pump them at headquarters." + +The startled sergeant turned a cold eye on the two prisoners. "Got +anything to say for yourselves?" When neither answered, he unholstered +his revolver and covered them. "Better take off those wires and put +bracelets on them, Mike," he told his fellow officer. + +The frogmen were handcuffed with cool efficiency and bundled into the +jeep. Meanwhile, the sergeant turned back to Bud and Mel. + +"You fellows come along too," he ordered. + +"But we haven't got time," Bud protested. "Our own sub's waiting right +offshore and we want to tail the sub that brought those guys here! +We're from the Swift rocket base." + +"Any identification?" the sergeant asked. + +"How _could_ we have in this getup?" Mel retorted. + +"That's what I thought. So get moving," the sergeant barked. + +Reluctantly, Bud and Mel hopped onto the running board and clung to the +bouncing jeep as it sped to the nearby town of Sandbank. At headquarters +they were questioned by the local police chief. + +"If you'll call Swift Enterprises at Shopton, sir, Mr. Swift--or Harlan +Ames of the plant security department--will vouch for us," Bud said. + +The chief picked up the telephone and soon had Mr. Swift on the line. +After speaking to him briefly, he passed the phone to Bud so the +scientist could identify his voice. + +"That's Bud Barclay, all right. He's one of our most trusted employees," +Mr. Swift told the chief after hearing Bud's story. + +The officer promised to release Mel and Bud at once. Before doing so, +however, he took them into the adjoining office where the two frogmen +were being questioned. + +"Any luck?" the chief asked the sergeant. + +Sergeant Gryce shook his head in disgust. "Not much. They did admit they +came in a sub, but they claim it didn't wait to pick them up." + +The police chief shot a few questions of his own at the men, but they +answered either in curt monosyllables or not at all. + +"Look, sir," Bud put in, "if they're telling the truth about their sub +not waiting, our jetmarine may have chased it. That means Mel and I are +stranded here. Could you have your men wait for us on the beach till we +find out?" + +"Gladly," the chief replied. "You two have done a fine day's work." + +After the prisoners had been locked up to be handed over to the FBI, the +two Beach Patrol officers drove Bud and Mel back to the area where they +had landed. Just as the jeep turned down the dirt road leading to the +shore, Bud's keen eyes spotted a lurking figure in the distance. + +"Stop, please!" Bud said, tapping the driver on the shoulder. + +As the jeep halted, Bud pointed toward the beach. A man was crouching +behind a sand dune, with a large fish basket beside him. The sergeant, +puzzled, took out a pair of binoculars to study the situation. +Fortunately, the jeep was still screened by trees, and the crouching man +evidently did not realize he had been seen. + +"What's in the basket?" Bud asked. "Could it be clothes?" + +"Sure looks like it," the sergeant said, passing over the binoculars. + +After a brief look, Bud explained the hunch that had occurred to him. +"I'll bet that guy's waiting with clothes for the frogmen. He probably +got here late and doesn't realize they've been nabbed!" + +"Well, he'll soon find out," the police driver said grimly. He was about +to start up the jeep when Bud stopped him again. + +"Wait! You have no proof that's what he's here for," Bud pointed out. + +The pilot suggested that the police keep out of sight while he and Mel +approached the man in their swimming gear. "If that stranger takes the +bait, we'll really have the goods on him!" Bud concluded. + +"Smart idea, son," the sergeant said with a dry chuckle. "Go to it!" + +Bud and Mel circled widely through the trees, took a quick dip in the +water, then approached along the beach as if they had just landed and +were searching for someone. + +To their delight, the man rose from behind the sand dune and hailed +them. Bud and Mel hurried over to him. + +"You have clothes for us?" Bud asked. "We just came ashore from the +sub!" + +"Yeah, right here," the man said in English with no trace of an accent. +"Thought I'd missed you." + +"Thanks, pal--that's all we want to know!" + +The man gaped in comic dismay as Bud pounced on him and pinned him to +the ground. Moments later, the two police officers rushed up and +handcuffed him. + +[Illustration] + +"Hey! What's the big idea?" the man stammered. "I ain't done nothing. +Just got a phone call this morning, offering me fifty bucks to bring two +sets of clothes down to the beach at five o'clock for a couple of +divers." + +"Tell that to the FBI!" snapped the sergeant. + +When the officers had departed with their new prisoner, Bud and Mel, +both grinning, dived into the surf and headed out to sea. + +In a few minutes they were sure they were at the right spot to meet the +jetmarine. But it was gone! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A PROPAGANDA BLITZ + + +As the _Sea Hound_ returned to Fearing Island from its search for Bud's +jetmarine, Tom was beside himself with worry. Had his experiment cost +the lives of his best friend and the other crewmen aboard? + +"I'll never forgive myself if anything's happened to them!" Tom muttered +bleakly. + +Hank Sterling squeezed the young inventor's arm. "You know Bud's high +spirits, skipper," he said. "He may have taken off on some crazy lark." + +"Sure! A whale hunt, maybe!" Arv Hanson wisecracked, trying to lighten +the gloom. + +Tom forced a grin, but he remained heavy-hearted as they neared the +base. His only hope now was that a radio message from the jetmarine +might have been picked up while they were gone. + +As soon as the seacopter was moored, Tom leaped ashore. The crewmen on +the docks had no news to report, so Tom piled into a jeep with Arv and +sped off to the Fearing communications center. Hank remained aboard the +_Sea Hound_ to secure all gear. + +Churning along the graveled road, Tom and Arv passed the launching area. +Huge, needle-nosed cargo rockets and the mighty spaceship _Titan_ loomed +against the sky. Tom's moon-voyaging _Challenger_ and his more recent +space craft the _Cosmic Sailer_ were also based there. + +"Going to alert the Navy for a search?" Arv inquired as they reached the +communications building. + +Tom nodded and braked the jeep to a screeching halt. "Coast Guard too. +They can pass the word to commercial shipping to be on the lookout." + +A telephone rang as he hurried into the office. + +"For you," the clerk said, looking up at Tom. "Nice timing!" + +Tom grabbed the phone. His face widened into a grin. "Bud! You seagoing +jet stream! What happened?" + +Arv grinned, too, in relief. + +"Your antidetection gear worked so well we vanished right out of the +ocean!" Bud replied with a chuckle. Turning serious, he reported how his +jetmarine had trailed the mysterious intruder and how he and Mel had +captured the two Brungarian frogmen and their shore contact. + +"Nice going, pal!" Tom exclaimed. + +"But here's the catch," Bud went on. "When we took off again in our +hydrolungs to go back aboard ship, the jetmarine was gone!" + +"Maybe she's trailing the enemy sub," Tom conjectured. + +"That's what I'm hoping," Bud said uneasily. "Trouble is, our subs +aren't armed, and who knows about that Brungarian job? The way they +sling missiles around, anything could happen if she spots the +jetmarine." + +Tom frowned. "I'll organize a search right away. Where are you calling +from?" + +"Police headquarters at Sandbank." + +"Okay. Take it easy, and I'll send a whirlybird to pick you up," Tom +promised. + +"And don't forget some clothes," Bud added with a chuckle. "Mel and I +are getting chilly." + +"Right!" Tom hung up and gave Arv Hanson a quick briefing. + +Then he phoned the base airfield to dispatch a helicopter. He also +contacted the nearest Coast Guard station and put through a +long-distance call to Navy Headquarters in Washington to request help in +searching for the jetmarine. Finally he and Arv headed back to the +submarine docks in the jeep. + +A flurry of activity followed as Tom detailed ships for the search and +rounded up crews. He was interrupted by a phone call in the loading +shed. It was the control-tower operator. + +"One of our drone planes has spotted a sub approaching, skipper," the +operator reported. + +"What bearing?" Tom demanded excitedly. + +"One-seven-six." Tom was about to hang up and grab a pair of binoculars +when the operator added hastily, "Wait! It's responding to our radio +challenge!... That's ours, all right!" + +Tom dashed out of the shed and scanned the sea to the southward. Sure +enough, a jetmarine had surfaced and was speeding toward the sub docks. +Minutes later, Tom was shaking hands warmly with Zimby Cox and Mack +Avery. + +"Is Bud okay?" was Zimby's first question. + +"Right! I just heard from him," Tom replied. "He and Mel captured those +enemy frogmen and a copter's on the way to pick them up. What happened +to you fellows?" + +Zimby confirmed Bud's guess that they had taken off in pursuit of the +enemy craft. + +"We figured Bud and Mel could make out on their own," Zimby explained. +"And we thought the sub's course or actions might tip us off to its +nationality. Also, if it tried any sabotage or mine-planting, we could +radio the Navy." + +Instead, Cox went on, the mysterious craft had proceeded to a point +about ten miles offshore where it rendezvoused with another submarine. + +"And get this, skipper!" Mack Avery put in. "The other sub was +undetectable! We were close enough to get a peek at it, but we couldn't +ping it on the sonarscope." + +"That figures," Tom said grimly. "Those frogmen were apparently +Brungarians." + +Zimby Cox related that a man had transferred from the undetectable +submarine to the one they had been following. The first sub had then +headed out to sea, as if to cross the ocean back to its home base. The +other had departed on a course toward the South Atlantic. + +"Probably back to the lost missile area. At least that's the way we +figured it," Zimby added. + +"And neither sub spotted you?" Tom questioned. + +Zimby grinned wryly. "We might not be here if they _had_ detected us. +But I'm pretty sure they didn't. Anyhow, they gave no sign." + +Tom was doubly elated at the news. His antidetection gear had evidently +worked perfectly in a showdown test with the enemy, even at close range. +Moreover, if the second sub was returning to the South Atlantic, it +seemed likely that the enemy, too, had not yet located the precious +missile with its data from Jupiter. + +"You guys rate Navy medals," Tom told Zimby and Mack jubilantly. "Come +on back to Shopton with me and I'll buy you the juiciest steaks in +town!" + +Before leaving the base, Tom called the Coast Guard and the Navy to +cancel his search request. He also telephoned a full report on the enemy +submarines to Admiral Walter. + +After hanging up, Tom decided on another move. "Our antidetection gear +seems to have panned out pretty well," he told Hank. "I think we should +make use of it right away. By sending that jetmarine to the South +Atlantic, we might get a line on enemy activities down there." + +Hank was in favor of the idea. He volunteered to prepare the jetmarine +for a cruise and take off from Fearing that very night. + +"Thanks," Tom said with a parting handshake. "Keep us posted if you +learn anything." + +Meanwhile, Bud and Mel Flagler had arrived at the base by helicopter. +They and their two shipmates flew back to the mainland with Tom and Arv +for a celebration dinner in town. + +The next morning found the young inventor hard at work in his private +laboratory. He was tapping his head with his slide rule and frowning at +a blackboard scrawled with equations when Bud dropped in for a visit. + +"What now, inventor boy?" his copilot asked. "Don't you ever give that +brain of yours a rest?" + +"Oh, hi, Bud!" Tom looked around absent-mindedly. "I'm just trying to +figure out a way to crack the Brungarians' antisonar system." + +"Good night!" Bud sank down on a lab stool. "You've come up with a way +to make our own subs undetectable. Isn't that enough?" + +Tom shook his head. "Not if we want to keep track of those sneaks. And I +think I see a way to do it." + +"How?" + +"So far, I have been thinking about refining our own search sonar." Tom +explained that the new system he had in mind would send out a _complex_ +pulse--that is, an underwater sound wave with many harmonics instead of +a single tone, sharp-peaked sound impulse. + +"This will make it less likely that their antidetection gear will absorb +all of it," Tom went on. "What's not absorbed will return as an echo. +I'm also going to modify our receivers. But I've still not worked that +out." + +Bud nodded, his forehead puckered in a look of concentration. "So--?" + +"So our sonar picks up all that hash, and by means of a computer setup +filters out the sub's real echo from the shadow reflections." + +"Hey! Sounds pretty cute," Bud said. + +Tom broke into a dry chuckle. "Right--_if_ I can do it." After that job, +Tom added, he hoped to adapt his own antidetection methods to make +hydrolung wearers safe from underwater detection. "And if the Jupiter +prober hasn't been found by that time, Bud, I'm going to request the +Navy to let us take over the search alone." + +Bud gave a whistle of excitement at the possibility of new undersea +adventures ahead. "Count me in, pal!" + +The two boys broke off their conversation a short time later and went +back to the Administration Building for lunch with Tom's father. + +Mr. Swift greeted them with a smile as they entered the big double +office. "Glad you could join me, boys! Chow's laid out quite a feast for +us today." + +Three places had been set at the conference table, and an appetizing +repast of sizzling ham and sweet potatoes waited in covered dishes on a +lunch cart nearby. + +"Mmm!" Bud inhaled the aroma. "Good chow from good old Chow!" + +Tom switched on the videophone screen to a private channel to catch the +noon news while they ate. The newscaster wore a look of excitement as he +spoke without pausing for the usual commercial. + +"The Brungarian government has just scored a propaganda bombshell!" he +reported. "In a news announcement released less than half an hour ago, +they stated that their Navy has perfected an _undetectable submarine_!" + +The Swifts and Bud froze, openmouthed, at the newscaster's words. + +"No need to tell you what this could mean to American security," he went +on. "If enemy subs slipped through our continental defenses, their +missiles could devastate the United States with scarcely an instant's +warning! The whole country's been rocked by the announcement. An +official comment by our Defense Department is expected at any moment." + +"Sufferin' satellites!" Bud gulped. + +Mr. Swift nodded. "It's a great propaganda stroke. But I wonder why +they've chosen to reveal their secret at this time." + +Tom said thoughtfully, "Dad, do you suppose they've realized the fact +that we _know_ about their antisonar gear?" + +"Could be, son. They may figure that since the secret is out already, +they may as well play it up for all it's worth." The elder scientist +paused and frowned. "Or it might be intended to force our hand." + +"You mean in hopes of getting us to reveal whether or not we have an +antidetection system ourselves?" As his father nodded, Tom scowled. "If +so, that sub yesterday may have been observing our tests." + +The telephone rang and Tom leaped to answer it. The caller was Dan +Perkins of the _Shopton Evening Bulletin_. + +"You can guess why I'm calling, Tom," the editor said. "How about a +statement from you Swifts on this Brungarian sub story?" + +"We found it very interesting," Tom said politely but noncommittally. +Parrying further questions, he hung up as soon as possible. + +Mr. Swift approved Tom's policy of silence. Almost immediately the phone +began ringing again with a succession of calls from other newspapers and +wire services. Tom dashed off a brief, general statement and instructed +Miss Trent to give it to all further callers. + +"Maybe this is a good time to make a private announcement to you +fellows," Mr. Swift said to the two boys, his eyes twinkling. "Do you +recall my telling you that Doc Simpson had isolated an unknown vitamin +from the space plants? Well, we've now discovered that this vitamin can +condition the human body to stay under water indefinitely. Doc is +putting some up in capsule form." + +Both Tom and Bud gave whoops of glee at this news. + +"Dad, you've helped overcome one of the big problems in our search for +the lost missile!" Tom exclaimed. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MOUNTAIN HIKE + + +"After adequate doses of your space vitamin, Dad, a skin diver could +tackle almost any undersea job in my hydrolung!" Tom exclaimed. "He +wouldn't be subjected to any antiosmosis troubles with his body +tissues." + +His father nodded. "For the first time, man might become a _truly marine +creature_!" + +"Wow! Think of it!" Bud gasped excitedly. "With Tom's hydrolung and a +knife to hunt his own food, he could practically live in the sea!" + +"That's no farfetched dream, Bud." Tom's steel-blue eyes flashed at the +thought of new fields of scientific conquest. "This discovery of Dad's +and Doc Simpson's opens up some really amazing possibilities." + +Most important at the moment, the vitamin would be a great boon in +carrying out search and digging operations for the Jupiter prober. With +fresh enthusiasm, Tom returned to his laboratory to work on the new +sonar gear. In his own mind, he had already named it a "quality analyzer +sonar," since that exactly described the way it would function. + +"Hmm, let's see," Tom mused as he settled down at his workbench, pencil +in hand. "Besides a regular sonarscope, I'll need at least three units +for the gear." + +First, he would need an oscillator to produce the complex pulse. Next, +of course, an oscilloscope to check the pulse as it was beamed out. +Last--but highly important--a correlation calculator. + +This latter unit would compare the original pulse with the returning +echoes. If an echo had a high enough "standard of acceptance"--that is, +if its quality was very near the original pulse, it would show up on the +screen in the normal way. If the echo came back blurred, or if "shadow +echoes" showed up, these would be separated and appear on the screen +colored red. + +"Whew!" Tom sighed as he realized the complicated job of circuit design +that lay ahead. "This sure is going to burn some midnight oil!" + +The young inventor worked all afternoon at a furious pace, breaking off +toward dinnertime to telephone his mother that he would be staying +overnight at the lab. After a hasty meal, he resumed his layout job at +the drawing board and by midnight had finished designing his quality +analyzer sonar. + +Whipping off his eyeshade, Tom went into the apartment next door and +stretched out to snatch a few hours' sleep. But as usual when in the +midst of an exciting new project, he was too keyed up to rest for long. + +Before daylight, Tom was back at his workbench ready to begin assembling +the units of his new sonar gear. Later he phoned Chow but scarcely +paused to eat when the cook arrived with his order. + +"Brand my solar stovepipe!" Chow scolded. "Take time to eat your vittles +properly, boss!" + +"Hmm?... Oh, sure." Tom looked up and grinned. + +The stout old Texan stomped out, shaking his head. + +As the morning wore on, the pace at which Tom had been working began to +tell on the young inventor. His head nodded again and again. Gradually +he fell forward into an exhausted doze. + +The next thing Tom knew, he was sailing through the air, high above +Swift Enterprises. Lake Carlopa was a tiny blue puddle below, and the +town of Shopton a mere cluster of toy buildings in the distance. + +"Good grief!" Tom exclaimed with a gulp. "What's keeping me up?" + +He was floating freely, without the support of any aircraft--or even one +of his amazing force-ray repelatrons! + +The discovery triggered off disaster. Like a character in a movie +cartoon, now that he knew he had nothing to support him, Tom instantly +went plunging downward--down, down, straight into the lake! + +_Splash!_ + +Tom gasped and shuddered and shook his head like a drenched terrier. + +_Another splash!_ As Tom brought his eyes into focus, he realized he was +back at his workbench in the laboratory. Chow was standing in front of +him, holding a half-empty pail of water, ready to splash him again! + +"Hey! Cut it out!" Tom cried out, jerking bolt upright. Then, as he saw +the disturbed look on Chow's face, Tom burst out laughing. "Okay. Relax, +old-timer! Guess I was dreaming." + +"Brand my snake oil!" Chow said. "You looked so pale an' pasty, you had +me plumb scared, Tom! I couldn't wake you nohow!" Worriedly the cook +added, "What you need is a good beefsteak and some sunshine. You been +under water too long." + +"In more ways than one!" Tom chuckled as he grabbed a towel and dried +himself off. + +The beefsteak, with crisp golden-brown French fried potatoes, was +already at hand on Chow's lunch cart. Tom ate with a hearty appetite +and the stout chef went off, secretly plotting to arrange the second +half of his prescription. + +When he reached the galley, Chow plucked the wall phone off its hook and +called Bud at an airfield hangar. After a brisk conversation, he hung +up, grinning contentedly. + +At one o'clock Bud came bursting into Tom's laboratory. "Snap to, +skipper!" he announced. "You have company!" + +Tom looked up from his work in surprise. + +"_Ta-daaa!_" Bud sang out, imitating a trumpet flourish. + +Sandy and Phyl Newton marched in, smiling. + +"Boy, this _is_ a surprise!" Tom got up to greet them. "A mighty +pleasant one. But what's the occasion?" + +"The occasion is that you're coming on a mountain hike with us, out in +the nice fresh air and sunshine!" Sandy informed him. + +"And please don't argue," Phyl said with a giggle. "It's for your own +good--not to mention ours." + +"I suppose Chow Winkler put you up to this." Tom grinned. + +"Never mind that," Sandy said sternly. "Just come along quietly. It's a +beautiful day." + +Tom glanced at his workbench cluttered with drawings and electronic +gear. "Well, okay, since you're twisting my arm," he agreed. "I guess it +might clear my brain at that." + +"Now you're talking." Bud clapped Tom on the back and propelled him +toward the two girls, who promptly seized his arms before he might +change his mind. + +On their way to the door, however, the telephone rang. Tom insisted upon +answering it, in spite of the girls' scolding. + +"Tom Swift Jr. talking." + +"This is Chief Slater, Tom," said the voice at the other end of the +line. "Dimitri Mirov wants to see you. I don't know what's up, but he +might be ready to tell something worth while. Could you drop by?" + +"Sure thing, Chief. Right away!" Tom hung up, excited by the thought +that the Brungarian might be about to reveal an important secret. "Mind +stopping by police headquarters first?" he asked his friends. + +Minutes later, Bud's red convertible pulled up in front of the gray +stone building. Tom jumped out and dashed up the granite steps. + +"I've had Mirov transferred to a cell by himself," Chief Slater said as +he took Tom back to see him. "Figured he might talk more freely away +from his pals." + +The prisoner, however, showed no eagerness to do so at Tom's arrival. He +remained slouched on his bunk as the young inventor pulled a chair up to +the cell bars. His only response was a slight curl of the lips. + +"Have you heard about my country's new submarine?" Mirov inquired after +Chief Slater left. + +Tom nodded curtly. + +"When are _you_ going to build one?" Mirov prodded slyly. + +"Look!" Tom snapped. "You asked to see me. Here I am. What is it you +want?" + +Mirov shrugged with a look of amusement. "To make a bargain with you," +he replied casually. "I know the secret of that sub. Get me and my +friends released and I'll give it to you." + +Tom had no intention of doing so, but he parried the offer, hoping to +draw Mirov out further. The prisoner, however, would say nothing more. + +At last Tom gave up and rose to leave. "I'll think over your +proposition," he said. + +He heard Mirov chuckle as he walked away. Somewhat puzzled, Tom reported +the conversation to Chief Slater and also telephoned the plant to inform +Ames. + +Then he hurried back to the car. Bud frowned upon hearing Tom's story. + +"Do you think he's on the level?" + +Tom shrugged as they headed out into the countryside. "I may be wrong, +but the whole thing sounded fishy." + +"Now look!" Sandy said severely. "If we're going to enjoy this hike, +we're _not_ going to talk about Brungarians or inventions or that lost +missile. From now on, it will cost anyone five cents every time he +breaks the rule!" + +The boys chuckled and agreed. But agreeing proved easier than keeping +the rule. Again and again, either Tom or Bud would inadvertently drop a +remark about their submarine experiments or the search in the South +Atlantic. By the time they had parked in the hills and started climbing, +Sandy's and Phyl's pockets were jingling with coins. + +"What are you going to do with it all?" Bud asked jokingly. + +"_Give it to us!_" snapped a strange voice. + +As the four young people turned with a start, they saw two men burst +from the shrubbery just behind them. + +Both were holding guns! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE GUNMAN'S SURPRISE + + +Sandy and Phyl were terrified by the sudden appearance of the +rough-looking pair with their drawn revolvers. Tom and Bud remained +cool, eying the men warily. + +"What's the big idea?" Tom asked. + +"Shut up and hoist your mitts!" the bigger of the men snarled. As the +boys obeyed, he muttered to his partner, "Keep these two punks covered, +Mugs, while I take their cash!" + +"Right, Packy! I'll watch 'em!" + +Sandy and Phyl emptied their pockets. Then Packy took the boys' wallets +and change. + +"Now turn around and march!" Packy snapped. + +Bud took the lead, followed by the two girls, with Tom bringing up the +rear. They plodded up the brushy slope in silence for several minutes. +Presently a weather-beaten cabin in a grove of trees came into view. + +"You intend to hold us there?" Tom asked. + +"You'll find out soon enough!" Packy answered. "We'll teach you to +interfere with the Mirovs!" + +_The Mirovs!_ Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the whole picture suddenly +fell into place. It was clear to Tom now how the capture had been +arranged. + +The call to the jail from Dimitri Mirov had been a hoax. Its purpose had +really been to get Tom away from Enterprises--thus giving the two thugs +a starting point from which to follow him. The mountain hike, organized +by Bud and the girls, had played right into their hands! As Tom sized up +the situation, seeking a way out, the group reached the cabin. + +"What are your terms for letting us go?" Tom asked their captors, +stalling for time. + +The man named Packy gave an ugly chuckle. "None yet," he said. "We may +just decide to set the cabin on fire." + +Sandy uttered a gasp as his words sank home. Phyl Newton had turned +deathly pale. Packy now told his partner to unlock the cabin. Mugs +stepped to the door. + +At that moment Tom caught Bud's eye. _It was now or never!_ + +Tom whirled and smashed a stiff handblow to Packy's wrist, knocking the +gun from his hand. Bud hurled himself on Mugs. + +Taken off guard, the shorter thug staggered and went down under a hail +of punches. Bud grabbed his wrist and twisted it mercilessly while he +pinned him to the ground. + +Mugs screeched with pain. "C-c-cut it out!" + +"Then drop your gun!" Bud snapped. + +Tom, meanwhile, had followed up his first advantage with a stunning blow +to the solar plexus. Packy grunted for breath, then came back viciously +with several well-aimed punches that staggered Tom. + +As the young inventor stumbled backward, Packy dived for his gun. Though +still groggy, Tom managed to kick the weapon out of reach. Before Packy +could straighten up, Tom followed with a sweeping uppercut that caught +him squarely on the chin. + +Packy went down like a felled tree! + +Tom picked up the gun before his groaning victim could recover. By this +time, Bud had pounded his own opponent into submission. Within a few +moments, both thugs were lined up against the wall of the cabin. Their +wrists were tightly strapped behind them with their own belts. + +"Oh ... thank goodness!" Sandy gasped. + +Tom gave the girls a reassuring grin. "Are you two all right?" + +"I g-guess so." Phyl gave a nervous smile. + +Now that the tables were turned, it was the thugs' turn to "march." +The boys herded them warily back down the hillside toward the road, +where Bud had parked his red convertible. Sandy and Phyl followed close +behind. + +[Illustration: _Tom and Bud hurled themselves at the thugs_] + +Like all cars belonging to the Swifts' key personnel, Bud's was equipped +with a two-way shortwave radio. Tom switched it on and radioed Shopton +Police Headquarters. Chief Slater promised to send a squad car at once. + +Minutes later, they heard it approaching. Two husky police officers +leaped out as the car braked to a halt, and took charge of the +prisoners. Scowling and sullen, they were driven off to jail. + +"Well," said Bud jokingly, "what about that relaxing hike we were +starting?" + +Phyl sighed. "I'm afraid you two boys just can't get away from +_in_ventions and _ad_ventures." + +Sandy added, "I suggest we go home for a nice safe dinner." + +Later, at the Swifts' house, Tom received a telephone call from Chief +Slater. He reported that the two prisoners were known hoodlums from a +nearby city. + +"They claim they were hired for this job last night by a stranger who +spoke with an accent," Slater went on. "According to their story, they +never even got a look at his face, and they had no idea he was an enemy +agent." + +"Sounds reasonable," Tom agreed. "It's not likely Mirov's Brungarian +henchmen would endanger their whole setup by taking any cheap gunmen +into their confidence." + +Chief Slater also reported that Len Unger was still at large. "But the +FBI will probably pick him up soon," he added. + +"I sure hope so," Tom said. + +A ten-hour sleep that night proved a fine tonic. Tom awoke the next +morning feeling entirely refreshed, and after a hearty breakfast, +hurried off to the plant. Here he plunged into work on his quality +analyzer sonar. + +Much of the circuitry was assigned to the electronics department. The +finished boards and sub-assemblies were fed back to Tom in his private +laboratory. He himself assembled the major units. + +At lunchtime, over a bowl of chili and crackers, Tom recalled another +problem. "We'll need an undetectable sub to test my analyzer," he mused. +"That means a repeat job of rigging all those transducers. Whew! I'd +better get busy on that plastic sheathing." + +As soon as he had eaten, Tom phoned Arv Hanson, who arrived at the lab +in a few moments. + +"You remember that idea I mentioned to Danny about molding all the +transducers into a single continuous plastic sheet?" As Arv nodded, Tom +went on, "Let's try it, using Tomasite as the plastic." + +Tom picked up a pencil and quickly sketched out the production steps. +By machine-spacing the transmitting and the receiving transducers as +closely together as possible, with minimum clearance, the plastic +coating could do an even better job of absorbing sonar pings than the +hand-rigged model. + +"And the leads from all the transducers can be combined into a single +flat tape," Tom ended. "That'll make it simple to hook up with the +electronic control unit inside." + +"Got it, skipper," Arv said tersely. "It'll take overtime to set up the +job in the plastics department. But we ought to be rolling out the +sheeting Tuesday." + +"That's swell, Arv! Thanks!" + +By midmorning Tuesday, Tom had his quality analyzer sonar completed and +was showing Bud how the units worked. + +"Boy, it looks simple enough the way you explain it, prof!" Bud said +admiringly. "How soon can we try it?" + +"Depends on Arv," Tom replied. He picked up the phone and called the +plastics department. To his delight, the sheathing was already being +rolled out in quantity. Arv promised that by noon he would have enough +of it available to coat a jetmarine. + +"Nice going!" Tom said. "Shoot it out to the cargo-jet hangar as soon as +it's ready!" + +Soon after lunch, Tom, Bud, and Arv took off for Fearing Island. When +they arrived at the base, the plastic coating with its myriad tiny +"mikes" and "speakers" was speedily applied to a jetmarine under Arv's +supervision. Tom, meanwhile, wired the control unit and also installed +the analyzer sonar in the _Sea Hound_. + +"Want to be 'It' for another underwater game of hide-and-seek?" Tom +asked Bud with a grin. + +"Sure, but don't tag me with a torpedo!" + +Minutes later, the jetmarine slipped off into the depths with Bud and +two other crewmen aboard. Tom and Arv followed in the seacopter. The +quality analyzer sonar worked even better than Tom had hoped. He not +only tracked the jetmarine on its outward course, but located it three +different times after shutting off the analyzer long enough for Bud to +seek a new location. + +"How'd you like to relieve Hank in the South Atlantic?" Tom asked Bud +upon their return. + +Bud gave a whoop of excitement. "Roger!" + +Tom slapped him on the back. "You can take off as soon as your ship's +provisioned. I'll join you later--but first," Tom added mysteriously, "I +have another job to attend to." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A MISSING AMULET + + +Bud's curiosity was instantly aroused. "Don't tell me you have a new +trick up your nautical sleeve to fox the Brungarians?" + +Tom grinned. "That's the general idea. I hope to give hydrolung divers +the same protection that your jetmarine has." + +"You mean make them invisible to sonar?" + +"Yes," Tom replied, "and also give them personal spy gear to probe the +waters around them and spot an 'undetectable' enemy." + +Bud whistled. "Do that, and I'll say you're _really_ a magician, +skipper!" + +Tom himself transferred the analyzer from the _Sea Hound_ to Bud's +jetmarine. On a chance that it might become necessary to operate at +greater depths--either in searching for the lost missile or in shadowing +the enemy--Tom also assigned Arv Hanson the job of rigging the _Sea +Hound_ and another seacopter with his new inventions. + +Four crewmen volunteered for the cruise. When the jetmarine was ready, +Tom and Bud exchanged tight handshakes. + +"Good luck!" + +"Thanks, Tom." + +The young inventor waved as Bud disappeared down the hatch. As soon as +the craft had submerged, Tom went back to Shopton. That evening the +Swifts were enjoying a quiet dinner at home when a loud, growling buzz +shattered their mealtime conversation. + +"Oh!" Sandy gasped. "The burglar alarm!" + +The Swifts' house and grounds were protected by a secret magnetic field. +Any intruder breaking the barrier touched off the automatic alarm +system. To avoid the buzzing, the family and their close friends wore +wrist watches containing tiny neutralizer coils. + +"I'll see who it is," Tom said, and hurried to the door, feeling a +twinge of apprehension. + +_Was this a new attempt by Brungarian agents?_ + +He switched on the porch light and peered out cautiously through the +one-way glass pane in the door. A slim, hatless figure in a dark suit +was just coming up the steps. Tom gave a smile of relief. + +It was Harlan Ames! + +"Hi, Harlan!" Tom opened the door before Ames had a chance to ring the +doorbell. "We heard you coming!" + +The security chief was startled when he realized he had activated the +alarm system. + +"That's strange," he said uneasily. "Tom, I wonder if--" + +He broke off to dart a quick glance at his wrist. Then his face relaxed +into a look of chagrin. + +"Great! I forgot my wrist watch!" he murmured. "Haven't visited your +house in so long I neglected to wear it." + +The other Swifts smiled in amused relief, and Mrs. Swift invited him to +join them for dessert. Ames, however, declined politely. + +"Thank you, but I just finished dinner myself," he explained. "I dropped +by to--" + +Once again Ames's voice trailed off in midsentence, as he reached into +the side pocket of his coat. + +"My amulet!" he gasped. "It's gone!" + +"Are you sure?" Tom said with quick concern. + +Ames nodded as he frantically tried all his other pockets. The +electronic amulet to which he referred had been issued to all +Enterprises personnel and family visitors who used the private gate. The +amulets were contained in slender bracelets and were designed to trap +radar impulses. This prevented them from showing up as blips on the +giant detector radarscope mounted on the main building. The purpose of +the scope was to reveal unauthorized visitors or spies. + +"My bracelet broke this afternoon," Ames said. "I slipped it into my +pocket to have it repaired. But it's not there now!" + +Tom grabbed a flashlight and dashed outside for a hasty check of the +walk. Ames followed, to look inside his black sedan. But the amulet did +not come to light. + +"Did you go home after you left the plant today?" Tom asked. + +Ames shook his head worriedly. "No, I stopped at a restaurant. Mind if I +use your phone?" + +"Go ahead." + +The security chief called Enterprises and asked his assistant, Phil +Radnor, who was on night duty, to make a thorough search. While awaiting +the results, Ames also called the restaurant, but learned that no such +item had been turned in. + +Half an hour later Radnor called back to report no luck. "The amulet may +show up yet, Harlan," he said. "But I'll alert the guards at the plant +to be on the lookout for an unauthorized visitor." + +"Thanks, Phil." Ames hung up and turned away from the telephone with an +embarrassed look. "Fine example I'm setting as head of plant security," +he murmured. "Let's hope the amulet wasn't stolen." + +Excusing themselves from Mrs. Swift and Sandy, Tom Sr. and Jr. retired +with Ames to Mr. Swift's study to discuss the news he had brought. + +"I had a late call from Admiral Walter this evening," Ames explained. +"The Navy's getting pretty desperate over that lost missile. They're +ready to co-operate with any moves you care to make. I take it you're +prepared to carry out a search on your own, Tom?" + +The young inventor nodded. "Yes, as soon as I've perfected all the gear +I'll need--which won't be long, I hope." + +Ames added, unhappily, that certain papers and news commentators had +been making snide remarks about the Swifts' failure to match the +Brungarians' submarine achievement. + +"I think Tom has that situation pretty well in hand," Mr. Swift remarked +with a smile. + +Tom gave Ames a full report on his own apparatus for rendering a +submarine invisible to underwater detection. Ames grinned at the news. +The grin grew even wider as he heard of the successful test of the +quality analyzer sonar. + +"Bud Barclay's on his way to the South Atlantic right now with a fully +equipped jetmarine," Tom ended. + +The next morning he eagerly tackled the job of adding sonar protection +and sonar detection features to his electronic hydrolung. What an +amazing fish man the wearer would be, Tom thought, if his project +succeeded! + +It would enable a skin diver to operate indefinitely under water at +jet-propelled speed--invisible to enemy "eyes," yet be able to spy out +any hostile undersea prowlers, including supposedly "undetectable" +submarines! + +Tom chuckled wryly as he mulled over the difficulties ahead. "Bud wasn't +kidding when he said it would take a magician!" + +Besides his mask, electronic breathing device, density-control unit, and +ion drive, the wearer would now need at least three major +additions--first, sonar-blinding equipment with electronic control; +second, amplifying equipment to camouflage the wearer's noise under +water; and, third, a portable quality analyzer sonar. + +"Whew! The miniaturizing job alone will be a king-sized headache!" Tom +said to himself. "I'd better start with a skin-diving suit made of that +molded plastic Arv is turning out." + +After having some of the Tomasite sheathing, with its embedding +transducers, sent over from the plastics department, Tom cut out a suit +from a pattern and welded the seams electronically. He had just finished +wiring the control unit when Chow wheeled in a lunch cart. + +"Got some _dee_licious steak-and-kidney pie today," the cook announced, +setting it out. + +"Swell," Tom said absent-mindedly. + +Chow frowned but left without interrupting the young inventor. Twenty +minutes later the cook poked his head into the laboratory again. Tom had +not yet touched his lunch. + +"Brand my vitaminnies, start eatin', boss!" + +"Sure, Chow." + +By this time, however, Tom had become so absorbed in the task of +assembling some tiny monolithic blocks for the computer circuits of his +analyzer, that the lunch remained untasted. When Chow returned a third +time, Tom was startled by his bellow: + +"Get your nose out o' that work, buckaroo, and _eat_!" + +Realizing Tom's pie had cooled off, Chow had brought another serving, +hot from the oven. Seeing the stern look on the Texan's face, Tom burst +out laughing and obeyed meekly. + +"I declare!" Chow chuckled. "One o' these days I'll have to force-feed +you if you won't pay no mind to your own nourishment!" + +"Sorry, old-timer." Tom smiled. "Sometimes I do get a bit wrapped up, I +guess." + +Hour after hour, Tom stayed glued to his workbench, sometimes busy with +delicate electronic gear, sometimes lost in thought as he pondered a +tricky problem in circuit design. It was long after dark when he drove +home from the experimental station, yet he was back on the job in his +laboratory early the next morning. + +By lunchtime Tom had all the apparatus assembled. He was just trying on +the plastic suit, with all its accompanying paraphernalia, when Chow +made his usual appearance. + +"Great sufferin' snakes!" the cook gasped. "You ain't goin' divin' in +_that_ getup, I hope! You look like a Christmas tree, boss!" + +Tom nodded glumly. "Know something, Chow? That's just what I was +thinking myself." + +The young inventor's suit was loaded down with the various electronic +units and festooned with wires. Even taking a few steps around the lab +convinced Tom that the design was too unwieldy. + +"I'd probably either get tangled in seaweed or sink from sheer weight," +he muttered. + +Changing back to his slacks and T shirt, Tom began eating abstractedly +as Chow hovered around. + +"If fishes could talk, I reckon you'd scare 'em half to death in that +rig!" Chow said, trying to cheer Tom. + +"Fish do talk," the young inventor said. "At least they make noises. +Don't you remember that emergency fish-talk code we used when we were--" + +Suddenly Tom paused, his mouth dropping open. "_Chow!_ You've just +solved my problem!" he exclaimed. + +"I have?" Chow goggled at the young inventor. + +"You sure have!" Tom bounced off his stool and began pacing about. "Now, +take porpoises. They utter all sorts of sounds--grunts, squeals, +jawclaps--and one particularly characteristic sound, like the grating of +a rusty hinge." + +Chow scratched his chin uncertainly. "Wal, what about it?" + +"Suppose I used that rusty-hinge noise to mask the diver's noise." Tom +turned and stabbed the air with his finger. "I could _also_ use that +same sound output as the search pulse for my quality analyzer sonar!" + +In this way, Tom explained, he could eliminate part of his bulky +equipment and do an even better job of making the diver "invisible." + +Bubbling with enthusiasm, Tom decided to buy a live porpoise at once and +make an exact recording of its sounds. As soon as he had finished lunch, +he put in a number of calls to suppliers of marine specimens. But none +could provide a porpoise on short notice. + +"Guess I'll have to catch one myself!" Tom told Chow. + +He drove out to the airfield and took off in a Whirling Duck for Fearing +Island. At the base, both Mel Flagler and Zimby Cox were eager to +accompany the young inventor when he told them about the trip he had in +mind. + +Tom chose the _Sea Hound_ as the fastest and best suited craft for his +purpose. With Mel's and Zimby's help, he quickly rigged a plastic "tank" +in the stern cabin. Minutes later, the seacopter zoomed skyward, heading +for the Florida Keys. + +The flight was a short one at transonic speed. Tom chose a sparkling +stretch of open water, a mile or so offshore from a palm-green islet. +Zimby agreed to stay aboard and tend ship while Tom and Mel went over +the side in hydrolungs. + +The two glided about in the translucent blue depths, keeping in close +range of each other. The sea was alive with shimmering fish of every +hue, darting among the coral. Suddenly, as Tom veered around to rejoin +Mel, his eyes widened in horror. + +A vicious-looking hammerhead shark was zeroing in, directly behind his +friend! + +"Look out!" Tom yelled over his microphone. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SMILEY THE SEA COW + + +Mel turned in the nick of time. The monster shark was bearing down on +him like an undersea express train. Overcoming a moment of panic, Mel +gunned his ion drive to dodge the attack. + +As Tom watched in agonized suspense, he saw the shark's jaws open and +shut in a lightning snap at Mel's outstretched arm. Its razor-sharp +teeth missed their target by inches! + +Mel's gasp of relief was audible over Tom's earphones. "Let's get out of +here!" he cried, arrowing away from the man-killer. + +Suddenly Tom realized the full extent of their peril. A long, sweeping +coral reef, which extended above water, lay between them and the _Sea +Hound_. Unless they could round the reef in time, the shark had them +trapped! + +"Quick! This way!" Tom exclaimed. + +The shark was moving at blinding speed. As if sensing the boys' plan of +escape, it launched itself in a wide curving sweep to cut them off. + +"We can't make it!" Tom gasped. "We'll have to fight!" + +Both swimmers were armed with skin diver's knives as a precaution. The +two maneuvered to meet the killer's onslaught. + +This time its broad nightmarish head was aiming straight at Tom. He +jetted off to the right, but the monster veered instantly. Its lashing +tail gave Mel a stunning blow. + +As the shark's jaws gaped for a bite, Tom zoomed underneath the +man-eater and slashed its belly with his knife. + +The shark, maddened, thrashed the water in a frenzy. Tom moved like +lightning to dodge a deadly blow from its bony tail. Again and again +they felt the horrifying brush of the killer's fins or armor-tough hide. +By this time, Mel had revived. Repeatedly the two boys dived to jab and +slash at the shark's soft underbelly. + +Both were nearly exhausted when the monster at last went limp and +floated slowly up toward the surface. Pale with shock and fright, Tom +and Mel jetted back to the _Sea Hound_. + +Zimby Cox was startled by their faces when they clambered aboard and +ripped off their masks. "What happened to you two?" + +Tom told him. "Good night!" Zimby cried out. + +After resting, Tom and Mel dived in again. This time luck was with +them. In less than twenty minutes they sighted a small porpoise. + +"Think we can lure it back toward the _Sea Hound_?" Mel queried. + +"We'll try," Tom replied. + +The creature with the bottle-shaped snout was as friendly and playful as +most of its fellow dolphins. Too playful, Tom concluded, after vainly +trying to tease it into chasing them. Instead of following, it would +"tag" Tom or Mel quickly, then swim away, evidently expecting to be +chased in turn! + +"I give up!" Mel snorted in disgust. + +Tom grinned and bobbed to the surface. He waved his hand several times +in a prearranged signal. Zimby at last spotted him and brought the _Sea +Hound_ to the scene. + +Raising his mask, Tom called, "Let's have the net!" + +Zimby lowered a nylon net and some pieces of fish to the two swimmers as +they came alongside. With the food as bait they tried to lure the +porpoise to the seacopter. But just as they thought they had it, the +monster would scoot off. + +"It's just laughing at us!" Mel fumed. + +At last, after winning its confidence with several bits of fish, the +boys succeeded in snaring the porpoise. Tom clambered onto the _Sea +Hound_'s deck and helped Zimby haul their catch aboard. "Quacking" +reproachfully, it was lowered through the hatch and placed in the tank, +which was then pumped full of salt water. + +As soon as the _Sea Hound_ arrived at Fearing, Tom phoned Chow Winkler +at Enterprises and asked him to fly out to the base. + +"Pardner, how'd you like to ride herd on this critter and gentle it down +for me?" Tom asked, when he showed Chow the porpoise. + +It had been transferred to a huge, glass-paneled tank which had been set +up just outside Tom's Fearing Island laboratory during his flight to the +Florida Keys. + +"Reckon I kin try makin' friends with it," Chow declared. + +The porpoise stared morosely at Chow. The kindly old Texan's heart was +touched by the odd creature. To his delight, it soon responded to his +friendly overtures and quickly recovered its good nature. By the next +morning the porpoise was playing catch with Chow, or else swimming over +to have its back scratched. The cook named it Smiley. + +"She's kind of a sea cow," he told Tom, "and you got to talk to my +Smiley like any cow!" Tom grinned and refrained from explaining to Chow +that a real "sea cow" was a walrus. + +Meanwhile, the young inventor was busy with his own experiments. By +means of a microphone placed in the tank, he made exact recordings of +Smiley's "talk." Using Mel Flagler as a subject, Tom also tape-recorded +the sound of a skin diver propelled through the water by ion drive. + +The next step was to compare the sound pattern of the tapes. Tom +filtered out the difference in the two sounds with the correlation +calculator unit of one of his quality analyzer sonars. + +"Uh-huh. So you got the difference betwixt Smiley's talk an' the noise +Mel made," muttered Chow as he watched the jagged lines of light +flashing on the pulse-check oscilloscope. "Now what're you fixin' to do +with it?" + +"This will be fed into the diver's sonar along with his own noise +output," Tom said, "to make him sound like a porpoise." + +Chow howled. "That I've got to hear!" + +The young inventor worked feverishly throughout the day and into the +next, perfecting his new "porpoise sonar." Using microelectronic +components, he was able to reduce all the units to amazingly small size. + +Next, Tom began tailoring himself a completely new skin-diving suit. +Mask, ion-drive jet, and the various hydrolung units were molded into +the plastic, with no loose wires or tubes showing. + +Monday morning he was ready to try the outfit. The sonarscope with its +tiny viewing screen was strapped to his left forearm. Another small unit +was fastened to the inside of his wrist, with four plungers in +finger-tip reach. + +"What in tarnation's that?" Chow asked. + +"Simplified controls," Tom explained. "One's for breathing adjustment, +one's for the density unit, one is my ion-drive 'throttle,' and this +last is for the sonar pulse--which will duplicate the porpoise sound." + +The suit worked perfectly in a tank test. Chow was amazed as he listened +to Tom gliding about, via an underwater microphone. + +"If that don't beat all!" he declared. "Can't tell the difference 'twixt +you an' Smiley!" + +As Tom emerged from the tank, the portly cook rolled up his own pantlegs +and waddled up the metal ladder to the tank brim. He summoned the +porpoise with a whistle and straddled its back. + +"What in the name of aquanautics do you think _you're_ doing?" Tom +gasped. + +"I'll show you a real broncobustin' act in the water," Chow bragged. + +Smiley glided off gently at first, Chow fanning the air with his hat and +yipping like a rodeo star. He did, in fact, cling to his slippery perch +with considerable skill. + +But suddenly Smiley began bobbing and humping like an eel. Chow's face +froze in alarm. A moment later the porpoise dived and the cook let out a +yell of terror, "He-e-elp!" + +Roaring with laughter, Tom dived in and rescued him. "Guess he ain't +quite broke yet, pardner!" + +"Reckon not." + +Now that Tom had all his technical problems solved, he plunged eagerly +into the job of fitting out his expedition to the South Atlantic to +search for the lost Jupiter missile. + +[Illustration] + +Besides the _Sea Hound_ and the other diving seacopter which had already +been rigged with antisonar and antidetection equipment, Tom ordered a +large cargo jetmarine to be similarly equipped. + +[Illustration] + +Then he drew up a list of supplies and underwater search gear needed +for the missile hunt. Tom phoned orders to a dozen different +departments. Food, space-plant pills, extra clothing, tools, including a +midget atomic earth blaster, grappling hooks--nothing was overlooked. + +"I'd better take along a Damonscope too," Tom reflected. "Judging by +those Navy reports, ordinary Geiger counters haven't revealed anything." + +Tom's Damonscope, one of his early inventions, was a photographic device +which worked on fluorescent principles. It was amazingly sensitive to +any form of radioactivity--and the missile, of course, would be "hot" +from exposure to cosmic rays. + +Meanwhile, Tom had ordered his new hydrolung suit, with its four-plunger +control unit and porpoise sonar, to be flown back to Enterprises. Arv +Hanson had promised to make up several duplicates with a team of +technicians working on all-night shifts. + +Late the next afternoon Tom returned to the mainland to confer with his +father. Mr. Swift reviewed the expedition plans with approval. + +"Suppose we call Admiral Walter now and set a time for the Navy to move +out of the missile area, so you can take over," his father said. + +Tom agreed, and his father placed the long-distance call to Washington. +Moments later, Admiral Walter came on the line. Mr. Swift talked to him +briefly, then turned the phone over to Tom, who described his +preparations for the missile hunt. A time schedule of operations and +communications was quickly laid out. + +The admiral was amazed to learn that Bud Barclay was already patrolling +the area. "Our ships haven't seen or heard him!" the officer exclaimed. +Suddenly Admiral Walter broke off. "Hold it, please, Tom! A code call is +just coming in!" + +His voice was grave as he returned to the Swifts' line. "That message +was from your friend, Bud Barclay," Admiral Walter reported. "It looks +as if our enemy has found the missile!" + +"Oh, no!" Tom groaned. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +FLASH FROM THE DEPTHS + + +Tom was stunned by the news. "There's no chance of a mistake?" + +"Judge for yourself," Admiral Walter replied. He read the message: + + HAVE JUST SIGHTED ENEMY CRAFT DREDGING OUT METAL OBJECT + +Tom repeated the information to his father. Both Swifts were silent for +a moment, exchanging dejected looks. Then Mr. Swift remarked evenly: + +"The game's never lost till it's over, son." + +"You're right, Dad!" Tom exclaimed. Turning back to the telephone, he +said, "Admiral, I'm not quitting. We'll take off as soon as I can get +back to the base!" + +With a hasty good-by to his father, and farewells to his mother, Sandy, +and Phyl by phone, Tom dashed out of the building. He sped to Arv +Hanson's workshop, and the new hydrolung suits were loaded onto a small +pickup truck and taken to the airfield. While flying back to Fearing +Island in a helijet, Tom received a radio flash from his father. + +"Another message from Bud. He says the object dug up by the Brungarians +was _not_ the missile. It appeared to be the metal section of a ship's +prow, from some hulk buried in the silt!" + +Tom was jubilant. "Terrific news, Dad! Our luck may be turning!" + +At the rocket base Tom detailed crews for the three undersea craft which +were to take off on the expedition. Arv Hanson would captain one +seacopter, Mel Flagler the jetmarine, while Zimby Cox, Chow, and four +crewmen would accompany Tom in the _Sea Hound_. + +Because of their sonar-blinding systems, Tom realized there was a chance +of the ships losing contact with one another--especially if their +analyzer sonars developed trouble. He therefore plotted their course to +the South Atlantic carefully, and issued orders for the antidetection +circuits to be switched off every half-hour for a position check. + +"Report to your ships," he now ordered. + +As Tom was about to leave base headquarters, Harlan Ames telephoned from +Shopton. "Bad news, Tom. Dimitri Mirov has broken jail!" + +"Good night!" Tom stifled a groan of dismay. "How did it happen?" + +Ames said the Brungarian had somehow fashioned a crude weapon and +overpowered the turnkey. Disguising himself in the guard's uniform, he +had slipped out before his victim was discovered. + +"He must have had outside help within close call," Ames ended, "because +he seems to have made a clean getaway. The State Police have spread a +dragnet, but it doesn't look hopeful." + +"He'll probably duck out of the country pronto," Tom surmised. "Anyhow, +this won't stop us, Harlan." + +By nightfall the little fleet of three undersea craft was speeding +southward at periscope depth. Tom alternated at the controls with Zimby, +two hours on and two hours off. Sleep came in snatches, the crewmen +flopping on their bunks as the chance offered. Chow's tasty meals helped +break the monotony. + +It was the following day when they reached the missile search area. Tom +surfaced the _Sea Hound_ and reversed blade pitch, then gunned the rotor +turbines for an aerial reconnaissance flight, while the jetmarine and the +other seacopter stood by in the water. + +"Brand my guppies, it's some ocean, eh, boss?" Chow remarked in an awed +voice. + +"Big enough, all right," Tom agreed with a grin. "And plenty of water to +search in." + +"No sign of the Navy," Zimby said. + +Tom nodded. "They pulled out on schedule." + +"What about them Brungarian sidewinders?" put in Chow. + +"That's the question!" Tom swooped down to rejoin the other two craft. +"We'll keep an eye out for enemy blips while we do our prospecting." + +Rather than lose time trying to contact Bud, Tom decided to let him find +the _Sea Hound_. Accordingly, he switched off the antidetection system +and ordered all ships to submerge. Arv's seacopter and Mel's jetmarine +were to maintain close formation and stand guard while Tom's craft did +the actual searching. + +Now the missile hunt began. Tom had plotted a concentric search pattern, +focused on the probable position worked out by the task-force computers. +After checking his fix on the automatic navigator, Tom switched on the +Damonscope and steered the _Sea Hound_ on a gradually circling course. + +The Damonscope was mounted in a blister on the hull, its camera lens +pointing toward the ocean floor. The automatic developing film would +record any trace of fluorescence, and a red light would signal this +result to the pilot's cabin. + +Minutes went by as the _Sea Hound_ nosed slowly along through the +gray-green gloom, its sister craft flanking it a hundred yards on either +side. They were moving only a fathom or so above the bottom. + +"A blip at eleven o'clock!" the sonarman called out suddenly. Tom's +pulse quickened. "Moving straight toward us," the sonarman added. + +Tom surrendered the controls to Zimby long enough to dart over and study +the sonarscope. "I've a hunch it's Bud," he told the others. + +His guess proved correct when the unmistakable outline of a jetmarine +loomed into view. Tom flicked on the search beam for a moment, and Bud +could be seen waving through the cabin window. Then the yellow glare +went off, and Bud's jetmarine glided away to take up a scouting position +ahead of the _Sea Hound_. + +An hour went by, then another. Suddenly a flash of light stabbed through +the murk from dead ahead. + +"It's a signal from Bud!" Zimby exclaimed. + +Tom nodded grimly. "He's spotted trouble--probably an enemy sub." +Silence settled over the cabin as Tom reached out to switch on the +antisonar circuits. + +At that same instant a red light flashed on the control panel. "The +Damonscope!" Tom cried out. "We may be over the Jupiter prober!" + +Cutting off the steering jets, Tom gave a brief flick on the reverse +jets to halt the craft. Then he turned over the controls to Zimby and +began stripping down to don a hydrolung suit. + +"Gallopin' guppies! What're you aimin' to do?" Chow exploded. + +[Illustration] + +"Go out and look for that missile," Tom said calmly. "It's what we came +for." + +"Are you loco, boss? What about that sub Bud just spotted? Mebbe it's +Mirov's bunch!" + +Tom refused to be dissuaded. After swallowing a space-plant pill, he +armed himself with an underwater flashlight. + +"Think it's safe to show that light, skipper?" a crewman asked uneasily. + +"If the enemy spots it, I'm hoping they'll think it's coming from a +school of lantern fish or sea anglers," Tom explained. He picked up a +three-pronged digging fork with his other hand and went out through the +air lock. + +Tom glided back to the spot which the _Sea Hound_ had just passed over +and began digging into the silt. Presently he felt the fork strike +something hard. + +"An obstruction!" Tom thought excitedly. + +He probed deeper. Bit by bit, a smoothly contoured and still-shiny metal +surface became visible. "I've found it!" Tom's eyes flashed in triumph, +his heart pounding. + +There was no doubt he had uncovered the nose cone of the missile which +had re-entered the earth's atmosphere tailfirst! + +Meanwhile, Bud, keeping watch on the enemy submarine, had seen a shadowy +figure glide from its air lock and head in Tom's direction. Bud donned a +hydrolung and followed. + +"What's that he's carrying?" Bud wondered. + +Suddenly the answer came to him--a self-propelled underwater grenade! +Horrified, Bud jetted forward, tackling the diver at full speed. + +A split second too late! The grenade went streaking straight toward Tom +Swift! + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A LUCKY BLAST + + +Tom's earphones caught the hiss of the approaching grenade. Instantly +his eyes darted to the sonarscope on his wrist. + +A tiny blip of light was moving on the screen! + +Tom whirled about, then gunned his ion drive. He pushed out of the path +of the grenade, which nevertheless grazed him as it streaked past. + +Seconds later, the grenade struck bottom. A shattering _bo-o-oom_ +reverberated through the depths, and clouds of silt darkened the water +into Stygian gloom. + +Tom, knocked off balance, was tumbled about helplessly by the train of +shock waves. As they died away, he gradually recovered his bearings and +pressed the throttle control of his ion drive. It coughed and stuttered! +For a moment Tom felt a surge of panic, but the jet motor smoothed into +a steady purr of power. + +"Whew!" he thought in relief. "At least I can still get around at full +speed if anything else comes at me!" + +He had clung to the flashlight and fork despite the explosion. The blast +had hurled him away from the spot where the missile was buried, so Tom +began trying to locate it again. + +But he soon realized that his efforts were hopeless. He must wait until +the silt which clouded the water cleared. Now Tom feared that the +explosion might have reburied the nose cone. + +Suddenly a new worry gripped him. _Had the missile's precious contents +been destroyed by the blast?!_ Slowly he began making his way back to +the _Sea Hound_. + +Unknown to Tom, Bud was fighting a desperate battle with his adversary +barely fifty yards away. The divers grappled each other in an +octopuslike duel. At such depths, their movements were impeded, as if by +oil. + +The Brungarian pulled out the knife at his belt. Bud, a skilled wrestler +from high-school days, managed to twist his foe's knife arm behind his +back--then applied a punishing judo hold! The Brungarian gave an audible +screech of pain and dropped the knife. + +"Now you're coming along with me!" Bud muttered. He gunned his jet, +forcing himself and his adversary toward the _Sea Hound_. + +Moments later, they passed the seacopter's cabin window. Reaching the +air lock, Bud hammered for admission. The hatch opened quickly and his +prisoner was hauled inside. Bud followed. + +Tom greeted him with a bear hug. "Hi, Bud, you old devilfish!" Turning +to the prisoner, Tom added "Who's this?" + +"The rat who fired that grenade at you!" + +The prisoner was wearing a frogman costume and a mask which hid the +lower part of his face. The man's dark eyes glittered in hate, as Tom +ordered him to remove his mask. Sullenly the prisoner obeyed. + +Tom gasped. "_Dimitri Mirov!_" The name sent a shock through the +Americans aboard. + +"Wal, I'll be jing-whistled!" Chow declared, then broke into a gleeful +cackle. + +Under their scornful gaze, the Brungarian's own eyes wavered and his +shoulders slumped in an attitude of defeat. "What is the use?" he +muttered. "Again I have failed. My career is over now, just like my +brother's." + +Tom seized the opening. "In that case, maybe you're ready to do some +talking now." + +Mirov shrugged. "What do you wish to know?" + +In answer to Tom's questions, Mirov admitted that his group, composed of +Brungarian rebel Navy men and rocket engineers, had sabotaged the +returning Jupiter probe missile, hoping to obtain its data for their own +use. + +Their key agent in America was the man who had posed over the phone as +Lester Morris and masterminded the other attempts to kidnap Tom. He had +also taken the amulet bracelet from Ames's jacket in a restaurant. + +Mirov himself had been given the bracelet after his jail break. Pulling +back the sleeve of his frogman suit, he displayed it with a momentary +smirk of pride. + +"I even got inside the grounds of Swift Enterprises and stole a plane +that same night," Mirov boasted. + +Tom was startled. "How did you manage that?" + +"Very simple. I thumbed a ride with one of your trusted workers on the +late shift and showed him the amulet to identify myself as a Swift +employee. The guard at the gate was fooled the same way." + +Tom nodded thoughtfully. "They were instructed to look for a man trying +to sneak past alone. Seeing you in the same car with a known employee, +he probably assumed you were all right." + +Mirov was allowed to change into dry clothes, then his hands were bound +behind his back. When the water cleared, Tom and Bud ventured outside +again. First they headed for Bud's jetmarine to reassure his crew. Here +they learned that the mystery submarine had vanished. + +"Good riddance!" Bud exclaimed jubilantly. "They probably didn't even +realize you had found the missile!" + +"_Had found_ is right--past tense," Tom said wryly. "It's no doubt +buried again. But at least we have the right spot." + +They emerged from the jetmarine and headed back toward the site. As they +glided astern of the _Sea Hound_, Tom uttered a cry over his suit mike. + +"_Bud! There it is!_" + +Both boys darted ahead at increased speed, and Tom played his flashlight +beam over the precious treasure. Instead of burying the missile deeper, +the grenade explosion had uncovered the entire nose cone and part of the +section behind it! + +"Sizzlin' squids! What a break!" Bud whooped. + +The boys jetted back to the _Sea Hound_ to announce the good news. Zimby +and two other crewmen were dispatched in hydrolungs to inform the other +ships. Tom requested them to remain submerged and guard the site. + +Twenty minutes later the _Sea Hound_ was zooming up to the surface. Tom +hoisted the craft's aerial and radioed word to his father, who was +overjoyed. Mr. Swift, in turn, had news--that the rebels' key man and +Len Unger had been seized by the FBI. Tom's next call was to Admiral +Walter. + +"Tom, this is wonderful news!" the admiral exclaimed. "I'll have our +Navy ships routed back there immediately--and I intend to fly out +myself as soon as I can board a plane!" + +As Tom waited for the task force to arrive, his thoughts turned to new +inventions to tackle. But he could not anticipate what would happen to +him in his _Triphibian Atomicar_. + +Within hours, the task force arrived at the site and recovery operations +got under way. The missile was hoisted to the surface by cables attached +to submarines, then hauled aboard the tender. Tom himself supervised the +job of extracting the sealed data section. + +"You've done a tremendous job, Tom Swift, and our whole country will be +proud of you!" Admiral Walter declared before sailing home. + +Tom grinned as he prepared to descend the ladder over the side. "Let me +know about life on Jupiter, sir. I may go there myself one of these +days!" + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung, by +Victor Appleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC *** + +***** This file should be named 19258.txt or 19258.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/5/19258/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Graeme Mackreth and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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