But no word
had yet been received when Tom and his companions arrived at the
mainland late that afternoon.
Mr. Swift greeted his son warmly at the airfield. Tom had refrained from
radioing the news to Enterprises after the hijacking and the missile
attempt. Any such message, Tom feared, might be picked up by the enemy
and bring on another attack. But the young inventor had telephoned his
father immediately after calling Washington.
Now Mr. Swift threw his arm affectionately around the lanky youth. "You
look pretty well bushed, son. Why not hustle home and call it a day?
That goes for the rest of you, too," he added to Bud, Chow, and the
others. "You've just risked your lives and the strain is bound to tell."
Tom urged his companions to comply. "But I'm sticking right here," the
young inventor told his father. "I want to be on hand the minute Exman
contacts us."
Bud insisted upon staying with his pal. The two boys ate a quiet supper
in Tom's private laboratory and finally lay down on cots in the
adjoining apartment. But first Tom posted a night operator to watch the
electronic brain.
"Wake me up the second that alarm bell goes off," he ordered.
"Okay, skipper," the radioman promised.
No message arrived to disturb the boys' rest. Tom felt a pang of worry
as he dressed the next morning, and then relieved the man on duty at the
decoder. Had the Brungarians somehow outwitted him? Surely Exman should
have reported by this time!
"Relax, pal," Bud urged.
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