Tom Swift and His Atomic Earth Blaster (9 page)

"Anybody named Leeskol? Or Bronich?"

Tom read down the list. "Nope. Not that our enemies would make it
that
easy for us!" He flashed Bud a thoughtful expression. "You know, our friend the spelunking dentist is probably on this list under his real name."

"Why do you think that, Tom?"

"Well, think about the various things he said tonight—little slips he didn’t intend. For example, here’s a guy who’s a long-time cave explorer, a fantastic marksman, and a mighty slick powerboat pilot to boot. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a pretty good description of a sportsman!"

Bud nodded enthusiastically. "The kind of person who belongs to the Excelsis Club!"

"Furthermore, that boat of his was a pretty upscale model, and he claims he has enough free time to spend days hanging around Lake Carlopa on the offchance he’ll catch Sandy practicing in the
Mary Nestor.
Doesn’t sound like a guy earning his living day to day as a struggling dentist, does it? I’d guess he’s more than rich enough to afford the Club dues—which are big—or at least to have a friend in the Club."

"Yeah. Maybe friends like our pals Bronich and Leeskol." Suddenly a new thought struck Bud and he grabbed Tom’s wrist. "Hey!—he’s
got
to be in the Club!"

"How come, flyboy?"

"Cause otherwise how’d he know in the first place that Sandy had signed up for the race? I know the
Shopton Evening Bulletin
hasn’t published a list, but San mentioned to me that all the participating clubs had received a complete roster the day after the entry deadline."

"So he could have seen a list posted at the Excelsis Club—which would also have been a great place to hang out watching the lake," Tom said in agreement. "Of course, he might just belong to another club, you know."

"Naw, can’t be," Bud grinned. "Know why? Cause that would make my guess wrong,
and I’m due to play hero, that’s why!"

Tom grinned back and said, "Man, you’re my hero anyway, any day! But let’s look over this list of members and guests."

Almost immediately, Tom noted the name of a guest followed by the honorific initials "D.D.S."

"That could be our boy," he pronounced. "Jerry Landis! We’ll investigate—but not tonight, pal. I’m hungry!"

At Bud’s favorite burgers ’n fries joint in Shopton, the two friends quietly discussed the plans for the upcoming South Pole expedition.

"We should be able to leave in the
Sky Queen
by next Wednesday," Tom said. "All aspects of the operation are going forward nicely."

"Has Enterprises stocked up on parkas?" Bud asked with a grin.

"We’ll have ’em," replied the young inventor, his eyes alight with the vision of new challenges. "But we’ll need more than fur suits. Anyone who might need to come close to the blaster will have to wear clothing that’s radiation-proof."

"Won’t the atomic pile be sheathed in Tomasite?" Bud referred to the remarkable plastic-like substance developed by Tom and his father. Though malleable and lightweight, it possessed amazing anti-radiation properties and had previously been used to enclose the similar veranium atomic pile used in Tom’s jetmarine.

"Sure," Tom nodded. "But remember, one thing we don’t know about ‘deep-earth space’ is the general distribution of radioactive ores down there. Veranium itself was a paradoxical surprise—there may be more to come! We have to be prepared for whatever comes rushing up that tunnel."

"Got it," Bud said. "So are we wearing those bulky anti-rad monkey-suits, like you use at the Citadel?" This was the Swifts’ atomic research facility in New Mexico.

Tom took a bite of his burger. "Those aren’t monkey-suits, pal—more like football padding for gorillas! We’ve got the materials-science section putting together something lighter and more flexible, with its own air supply and electric heating unit."

"That’s good to hear," Bud commented. "Just how cold does it get down there, anyhow?"

"Mighty cold. Some places the temperature never rises above five degrees even in midsummer. And in winter it drops down to a hundred below zero!"

"Man! I didn’t know zero
had
a ‘hundred below,’ joked Bud. "How’s the surfing in Antarctica?"

The young inventor grinned. "If you can hang-ten on a snowboard, it’s great."

Bud burst out laughing.

"You’re gonna test this mole-machine before we get down to the land of ice and snow, aren’t you?" he asked.

"I’ll tell you a secret, Bud," Tom replied, leaning forward across the table. "I’m going to offer to dig that tunnel through Pine Hill for the extra water supply Shopton needs—the tunnel the City Council knows is necessary but can’t afford."

Bud was startled by the news. "Fantastic! But that’ll just confirm Old Man Greenup’s suspicions, won’t it?"

Tom looked thoughtfully at the french fry in his hand. "Yes—and he could cause a lot of problems for Dad and Uncle Jake. They both want me to just go ahead with it, but I’m going to try to soften the impact by talking to Mr. Greenup personally."

"Bowl him over with charm, huh?"

"Charm—and the fact that Swift Enterprises is willing to do the job absolutely gratis. It’ll give me a chance to put my earth blaster through a real workout and at the same time benefit the whole community. That should make—"

Tom halted his sentence as Bud abruptly made a sharp motion with his hand, which was resting on the table-top, visible to Tom alone. Obeying the gesture Tom glanced to his right and noticed an attractive girl, about the same age as the youths, standing a few yards away as if reading the wall-mounted menu. The loud background music had just fallen silent, and Tom suddenly realized that his last few comments would have been audible to anyone with sharp ears.

The girl responded to Tom’s glance with a smile—a shy one.

"Sorry, you guys," she said, approaching the table. "I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you sort’ve caught my ear when you mentioned Old Man Greenup."

"I know the guy pretty well," Bud said. "Just the other day we were getting steamed together!"

"Is that right?" she said. Then she turned to Tom. "You’re Tom Swift, aren’t you? I figured as much when you started talking about drilling through the hill. Your offer sounds really generous. I think I might be able to help you with Mr. Greenup."

Tom was baffled. "Really? Do you know him?"

"Well, I ought to," said the girl. "See, ‘Old Man Greenup’ is my father!"

TWO MOUTHS—Tom couldn’t help thinking of them as
big
mouths—dropped open.

"I’m terribly embarrassed," Tom choked. "We just—that is—"

Bud reddened. "It was just three minutes of steam. We barely chatted!"

The girl gave forth a pretty laugh. "Oh please, don’t apologize. I call him Old Man Greenup myself—in my
head,
at least!"

At Tom’s invitation she sat down next to Bud. "I’m Liz Greenup. Elise, that is."

After some small talk, Tom discussed his encounter with Mr. Greenup of the other day.

"That’s Dad, all right," Liz commented. "When I was growing up he was the kindest, sweetest man in the world. The accident changed him—you know about the accident, don’t you?"

"I don’t think I do," replied Tom, who was struck by the word
‘accident’
in connection with Mr. Greenup. "When did it happen?"

"It was three years ago last June 3
^rd
."

"That summer I was traveling with my father," Tom explained.

Bud added, "And I hadn’t moved out to Shopton yet. I was still living in San Francisco."

Liz nodded very soberly. "Well, it was in the local papers. Just a simple traffic accident. Dad was hardly hurt at all, but my older brother Eric… we lost him."

"I’m sorry," said Tom sincerely. "That would change anyone’s attitude toward life."

"Yes, well—ever since, Dad’s been suspicious of everyone and everything. He doesn’t want to
trust
anymore." She lowered her eyes.

"If there’s anybody on earth worth trusting, though, it’s Tom Swift," Bud said.

"I believe that." Liz gave a smile to Bud and Tom. "If you’ll tell me about this water-drilling thing, I’ll see if I can win Dad over to your side."

Tom briefly described his atomic earth blaster and his proposal to drill a tunnel through Pine Hill. Liz Greenup seemed entranced. "It’s a marvelous idea!" she exclaimed. "I’ll be glad to present it to Dad. Will it be—dangerous at all?"

Tom declared with firmness, "I’ll see to it that it won’t be."

Liz said goodnight then, promising again to speak to her father and urge him to call Swift Enterprises the next day.

As the following day dawned, Tom was in a jubilant mood. After lunch he drove to the Construction Company plant where he conferred with the engineers about some construction details concerning the new-version blaster, which was eventually to be mass-produced. Then he stopped at Uncle Jake’s office to tell him about the surprising developments in the Pine Hill project.

"Do you think it will be safe, in view of what you and Bud faced in your lab the other day?" Mr. Aturian asked.

"Part of that problem was that the electrodes hadn’t been completely installed," explained Tom. "By the Pine Hill operation the blaster will be outfitted with all my new design features, giving me a chance to test them out—except the veranium pile. Instead of carrying its power along with it, it’ll trail power cables along behind. We’ll run it off a dynamo in the truck."

Later that afternoon Tom was in the blaster laboratory at Swift Enterprises with Bud Barclay. Work was over for the day, and the two boys were discussing the expedition to the Antarctic.

Suddenly the phone buzzed. Bud held up crossed fingers as Tom picked up the receiver. "Yes? All right, put him through." Tom shot Bud a grinning thumbs-up. "Hello, Mr. Greenup. Yes… Yes, it was quite a coincidence, running into her… Oh? That’s very flattering… Please, it’s easy to get off on the wrong foot… I’ll be glad if we can help ease the water problem, sir." There was a pause. "I’ll pass it on to Mr. Aturian and my father, and I’ll be there too, of course… I appreciate that very much. Goodbye, Mr. Greenup." Tom hung up.

"Sounds good!" cheered Bud—cautiously.

"Sure is! Mr. Greenup is going to urge the City Council’s Water Commission to approve our proposal! We just need to make an appearance at a special meeting tomorrow night to give them all the details."

As Tom informed everyone involved of the outcome of the call, Bud silently waved goodbye and left the lab. He had been asked to pilot Phil Radnor, Harlan Ames’ capable assistant, down to Fearing Island, the Enterprises rocket facility off the southern coast. Bud would not be returning until mid-evening.

Later, as Tom was making his way to the office he shared with his father, the elder Swift stepped out of the door to Harlan Ames’s office and waved Tom over. Inside sat Harlan and another man whom Tom had not met before.

"Tom Swift, this is my cousin Steve Ames," Harlan Ames said. As Tom and Steve were shaking hands, the young inventor noticed that the visitor bore a resemblance to the Enterprises security chief, though his hair was blond.

"Steve is the consultant I said I was considering bringing in," Harlan explained. "He’s on leave from his usual job with JANIG."

Steve Ames grinned in a friendly way. "You heard it right—JANIG. Know what that stands for?" Tom shook his head. "One of those government agencies. It was started just after World War Two as the Joint Army-Navy Intelligence Group. Now it’s just five little letters that don’t stand for anything in particular. Think of it as having one foot in the FBI and the other in the CIA—details classified!"

As Tom seated himself he noticed that Damon Swift had pulled the office door shut. Evidently they were about to discuss something requiring a high degree of confidentiality.

"Tom, Steve has some thoughts he’d like to share with you," Tom’s father said. The mood in the room had suddenly turned very somber, puzzling Tom. "Go ahead, Steve."

Steve Ames looked at Tom, his face as serious as a block of granite. "Tom, cousin Harl here asked me to review the details of the recent attempt on your life, and some of the other occurrences that have happened here since you began testing your digging machine. I already knew about the South Pole project—I was briefed by the subcommittee that approved the operation."

"I see," Tom said.

"This subject is a little difficult for all of us," Steve resumed. "You’re not going to want to hear what I have to say, and I don’t like having to say it. But I’m obligated to do so."

Tom shifted his gaze to the others in the room, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.
What’s going on here?
he wondered.

Pausing until Tom looked back at him, Steve Ames said: "Tom—just how well do you know this fellow Bud Barclay?"

The young inventor was taken aback.
"Bud?
He’s my closest friend! He’s saved my life—and I’d give my life for him!"

The JANIG agent shook his head. "That’s not what I’m asking. How
well
do you know him? How well do you know his background, for example?"

"His background?"

"Would it surprise you if I told you that this good pal of yours has done time in juvie for robbing a gas station?"

"What!" Tom cried. "That
can’t
be true!"

Steve nodded. "It isn’t. I just made it up. But for a
split second
—just a split second—you had a moment of doubt. I read it in your eyes. The fact is, you don’t know—absolutely and for sure—about Bud’s past; which means you don’t necessarily know everything about his present, either.

"Look, I’ve seen it happen before. I know a couple young guys, best buddies just like you and Bud. Sometimes those attachments can blind a person. I was amazed—
dismayed
is the word—when I discovered Barclay hadn’t been subject to the kind of thorough background check you’ve required of all other Swift employees."

As Tom looked at the JANIG agent in blank astonishment, Steve’s cousin said defensively, "Bud came aboard as a personal friend of the Swift family. There was never the slightest suspicion—"