AIR-BORNE HIJACKERS
Mr. Swift, hearing Tom's dismayed reaction, rushed to the telephone.
"What's wrong, son?"
Tom clamped his hand over the mouthpiece and quickly gave his father the
news of the destroyed range-finder plant. Then he spoke into the
telephone.
"Bernt, we must prevent another disaster! Let me check with our
construction company on the Quakelizors and I'll call you right back!"
"Right, Tom," Ahlgren agreed.
Both Tom and Mr. Swift were shocked by this latest blow of their
enemies. Tom called Ned Newton at the Swift Construction Company at once
and told him the news.
"How soon will the Quakelizors be ready, Uncle Ned?"
"They're finished, Tom. We're running a final inspection on them right
now. We can have them ready to ship out by one o'clock."
Tom relayed word to the Pentagon. Bernt Ahlgren was greatly relieved.
"By the way," Tom went on, "what about the sites? Have they been chosen
yet?"
"Only tentatively," Ahlgren replied. "We wanted to get your opinion
first."
One of the deflectors, Ahlgren felt, should be based in position to
guard the New York and New England area, in view of Intelligence
warnings about a probable attack on New York City. Another, in the
Cumberland plateau region of Kentucky, could damp out shock waves
threatening either the heavily industrialized Great Lakes area or any
southern city.
As to the other three Quakelizors, Ahlgren suggested that one be
installed on the West Coast, one in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and
the third on the Atlantic island of San Rosario. This would protect both
Latin-American allies and Caribbean defense bases of the United States.
Before deciding, Tom asked that Dr. Miles at the Bureau of Mines be
circuited into the telephone conversation. Mr. Swift, too, joined in on
another line. The four scientists discussed the problem and referred to
geologic maps. Finally the exact sites were agreed upon.
"Dad, I'm going to deliver and install one of those Quakelizors myself,"
Tom declared, after the telephone conference ended. "Judging from that
phone impostor last night, there's no telling what sort of trick our
enemies may try next!"
Mr. Swift approved heartily. "Good idea, son. In the meantime, I'll see
what I can accomplish with Ole Think Box here."
Tom notified Uncle Ned of the delivery sites. He requested that because
of the urgency of the situation, Swift planes transport the Quakelizors.
Mr. Newton promised to have five cargo jets loaded and prepared for
take-off from the construction company airfield.
Next, Tom turned to the job of rounding up flight crews. He decided that
Hank Sterling, Arv Hanson, Art Wiltessa, and a crack Swift test pilot,
Slim Davis, would each captain a plane.
Tom was just hanging up the telephone when Chow wheeled in a lunch cart,
bearing sizzling servings of steak for the two Swifts.
"How's Ole Think Box comin' along?" Chow inquired.
"All right now, but he went berserk a while back," Tom replied with a
chuckle.
Chow eyed the robot apprehensively and made a hasty exit. Both Tom Jr.
and Tom Sr. were amused.
As they ate, the two scientists continued their discussion on how to
equip Exman with senses and the power of speech. Several minutes later,
when they were finishing dessert, Bud came into the laboratory.
"Tom, what's this about you hopping off somewhere to install a
Quakelizor?" he asked anxiously.
"Don't worry, pal. I'll need my usual copilot," Tom said with a grin.
"Just didn't have time to call you before lunch. We'll be flying down to
a place called San Rosario in the Caribbean."
At one o'clock Tom briefed the flight crews and technicians. Slim was
provided with three men who had worked on the original model of the
quake deflector. After making sure that every man knew his job, Tom had
the groups flown by helicopter over to the Swift Construction Company
airfield.
Tom and Bud's cargo jet was the second to take off. On signal from the
tower, the big workhorse thundered down the runway and soared off into
the blue. Soon it was spearing southward above the waters of the
Atlantic.
Presently Bud drew Tom's attention to some blurry specks of light on the
radarscope. "Looks like a formation of planes, skipper."
Tom studied the blips for a while. "Guess you're right. It's sure not a
flock of sea gulls!" The young inventor frowned.
"Worried, Tom?" Bud asked quietly.
Tom shrugged. "It could be a routine military flight."
He increased speed and climbed for altitude. But the blips on the
radarscope showed that the planes were coming steadily closer. It was
clear that they were targeting on the Swift cargo jet.
Tom switched on the radio. Presently a voice crackled over their
headphones:
"Calling Swift jet!" The voice was heavily accented.
"Brungarians!" Bud muttered.
Tom made no reply to the radio challenge. Again came the voice:
"Calling Swift jet! Make emergency landing on the water!"
Tom's only response was a fresh burst of speed. Gunning the jet motors,
he sent the big cargo ship arrowing forward at supersonic velocity.
"There they are!" Bud cried suddenly. He pointed to a cluster of silvery
glints in the sky at seven o'clock.
Tom zoomed downward into a billowing cloud bank. It was a feeble hope
and Tom knew it. His only real chance now was to outrun or outmaneuver
the marauders.
The slim hope faded as they emerged from the cloud cover moments later.
The enemy planes were not only still dogging them, but closing in
rapidly. Sleek, needle-nosed attack ships, they appeared to have
seaplane hulls.
"Wow! Those are new ones!" Bud gasped.
"Our last warning to Swift jet! Hit the water or be shot down!" came the
enemy voice.
Tom raced along, his mind searching frantically for a method of escape.
Bud switched off radio power momentarily. "If we're going to be
hijacked, skipper, let's ditch your invention before it's too late!"
Tom shook his head stubbornly. "Why should I let those pirates bulldoze
us? Actually, I think they're after Exman!"
This last thought was a hunch that had just occurred to Tom. It was
clear that their foe had learned about the arrival of the energy from
space. "But so far," Tom reasoned, "there's no cause to suppose they
know anything about the quake deflectors."
Stalling for time, Tom switched on the radio again and spoke into the
mike. "Swift jet to attack planes. Our home base is picking up every
word of your threats. Shoot us down and America will consider it an act
of war!... Care to risk it?"
There was a moment's silence, then a reply. "War, you say? How can there
be a question of war? War against whom? You do not even know our
national identity!"
"Don't kid yourselves, mister!" Bud put in with a snarl. "We know, all
right, and so does United States Intelligence!"
Tom decided to risk a blunt query, without actually giving away any
facts, in case his hunch about the Brungarian's knowledge was wrong.
"There was a phone call to Swift Enterprises last night," he radioed.
"We know it was a fake. We also know your agents are aware of our
visitor.... Right?"
After a pause, the enemy spokesman replied, "Perhaps. If so, what then?"
"Just this," Tom radioed back. "If you're hoping to meet our visitor,
you're out of luck. I'll give you my word for it. Do you think we'd risk
such a valuable character in an unguarded crate like this?"
Tom and Bud looked at each other. Somehow, both boys felt instinctively
that Tom's words had struck home. The enemy had certainly risen to the
bait.
Finally came the reply. "You Swifts have a reputation for scrupulous
honesty." There was a slight sneer in the speaker's voice as if he
considered this a foolish weakness. "You give me your word of honor that
this--er--character is not aboard?"
"I do!" Tom snapped. "And if you don't trust me, go ahead and risk a
war!"
The boys waited breathlessly for the outcome of Tom's bold gamble. Soon
they saw the result. The pursuing planes suddenly peeled off and sped
away in the direction from which they had first appeared.
"Whew!" Bud wiped his hand across his face and drew it away moist with
perspiration. "How do you like that?"
Tom chuckled with relief. "I like it fine, fly boy. But I was sure
worried there for a while!"
Less than an hour later, the big cargo jet touched down at the San
Rosario airport. An armed guard was on hand to greet the boys, under
command of an officer named Captain Sanchez. He had brought along a work
crew of soldiers and also a geology expert, Professor Leone, from the
island's small technical school.
"I have selected a spot on the eastern shore of the island," the
professor told Tom. He unrolled a map and explained the site.
"Excellent," Tom agreed.
The Quakelizor parts, communications equipment, and small atomic earth
blaster were quickly unloaded and transported to the site by trucks. In
three hours the installation was finished.
Tom, who spoke Spanish fairly well, explained to a small group of San
Rosario military technicians how the quake deflector worked. He also
detailed one of his own men to stay on as trouble shooter for the setup.
"And now," said Captain Sanchez, beaming, "we must relax and celebrate
the friendship of our two countries."
Tom and Bud, though eager to get home, hesitated to hurt the friendly
officer's feelings. They sat through a delicious meal, followed by
numerous speeches. When his own turn to speak came, Tom used it to warn
against possible sabotage attempts by the Brungarians. At last the boys
were allowed to take off with their crew.
"Swell guys," Bud said, when the boys were airborne, "but a bit hard to
break away from!"
Tom grinned, then became serious. "You know, Bud," he said thoughtfully,
"those aerial hijackers gave me an idea."
"Let's have it, skipper."
"If only I could get Exman perfected so he would report back to me," Tom
explained, "I could _let_ him be kidnaped. Think what a wonderful
'inside man' he'd make in the enemy setup! He could tip us off to
everything the Brungarians were doing!"
"Hey, that's neat!" Bud exclaimed, wide-eyed. "But how could you be sure
those Brungarian rebel scientists wouldn't change him somehow? I mean
they might brainwash him or something."
"It's a risk," Tom agreed. "But that's my problem--how to make a perfect
spy out of him."
It was midnight when the cargo jet touched down on the Enterprises
airfield. The boys slept soundly.
The next morning Tom reported to Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames the outcome
of his trip to San Rosario, including the attack en route by unmarked
sky raiders. He also privately told his father about his plan to use
Exman as an electronic spy. Mr. Swift was enthusiastic.
The two scientists promptly set to work. Mr. Swift built two powerful
but miniature radio sets; one for receiving, one for transmitting. Tom,
meanwhile, was busy on another device, also highly miniaturized,
combining features of both the electronic decoder and Tom's famous
midget computers, known as Little Idiots.
With this equipment, Tom hoped, Exman would be able to monitor all
communications at Brungarian rebel headquarters, then radio the
information to Enterprises.
Chow brought lunch to the laboratory at noon, and Bud came in later.
Both stayed to watch the outcome of the experiment. Hank Sterling and
Arv Hanson joined the group.
By midafternoon the equipment was ready for a tryout. Tom opened Exman's
star head, inserted the gear, and made the delicate wiring connections.
"So far, so good," the young inventor murmured, stepping back. "Now for
the real test! Will Exman answer our questions?"
Tom walked over to the electronic decoder brain and began to tap out a
message on the keyboard. The others waited in breathless suspense.