Tom Swift and His Electronic Retroscope (12 page)

Disappointment showed on the giant’s face, but he said amiably, "Yeah, I gotcha. Guess I sorta put you two out of your way."

"Suppose I stop in tomorrow, after I’ve let off the villagers?" Tom suggested. Mentally he decided it might be wiser not to go to the cave alone with Max, or even with just Bud along. "By the way," he added, "about that skinny guy—have you seen him again, anywhere? Even if he’s the one who shot this arrow at the jaguar, that doesn’t prove he’s a good guy."

Max shook his head and looked a bit embarrassed. "Haven’t seen him since the night I chased him. If he shot off that arrow, I, er—guess I might not’ve been conscious at the time."

"Well, if you
do
happen to be conscious next time he comes lurking around," Bud requested, "see if you can find out what he’s up to."

"Don’t you worry. I’ll
shake
the truth out of him!" The man gave another of his deep, bellowing laughs. "Well, see you later, boys!" He slapped Bud on the back, gave Tom another powerful handshake, and walked over to the dead jaguar. With a grunt, he slung the heavy carcass over one shoulder.

"Don’t forget now. Come and see me," Max urged. He pointed out the cave’s direction.

"I’ll do that," Tom promised. He and Bud watched the giant stride off through the underbrush until he disappeared from view.

"What a man!" Bud said quietly, chuckling. "But skipper, were you serious about taking the Mayans to the Flying Lab in your paraplane?"

"Why not?" was the answer. "I’d sure rather take the sky route than drive over that road another time!"

The two youths trekked on to the site of the paraplane’s emergency landing and looked around, but the shadows were deepening and they found nothing of interest.

"At least we have another arrow for our diamond collection," remarked Bud. "You think those arrowheads are worth much?"

His chum shook his head. "No. I don’t know a lot about gems, but I’m pretty sure this stuff is artificial diamond—industrial grade, probably."

Returning to the village, Tom and Bud performed a precautionary check of the paraplane, then sought out Doc Simpson for an update on the medical project. "I’ve selected my subjects and informed them all," he reported happily. "They’ll be ready to leave whenever we want, with their big city suits slung over their backs!"

With Professor Castillez standing by to translate as required, Tom proceeded to ask Chief Quetzal’s permission to use the paraplane to fly the five subjects to the
Sky Queen
. Tom had worried that the
ahau
might resist his idea, but the man seemed quite accommodating. "They will be flying a much longer distance, all the way to America. It would be well to begin with a small step." He promised to speak to the five and calm any fears.

The next morning, breakfast over, Tom herded the five villagers to the spot where the parachute plane was berthed. He was accompanied by his fellow Shoptonians, and by the chief, Castillez, and Mr. and Mrs. Liu, who had asked to see the paraplane in flight.

"No sign of Hutchcraft," Bud whispered.

"Jest as well!" muttered Chow.

Tom could see no indication that the ship had been tampered with by marauders during the night.
Better try the engine, anyhow, before I take off,
he thought cautiously as he deactivated the magnetic-field alarm.

As the crowd stood near the young inventor eased into the pilot’s seat and gunned the jet engine into life. But after a loud, blasting sputter, it died. Tom tried again but got no response.

"Now
what’s wrong?" he wondered in annoyance. Giving the others an eloquent shrug, he climbed out of the plane and made a quick check of the engine. Then he inspected the main fuel tank. Nothing wrong there. Tom proceeded to swing open the access panel to one of the small electronics bays. To his disgust and dismay, a torrent of water immediately poured out and splashed to the ground!

"Oh,
great!"
Tom fumed aloud. "This plane seems to be jinxed!"

"That jinx could have a name," Bud observed grimly. "Or do you think that last downpour got into the fuselage somehow?"

"The ship’s well sealed," was Tom’s reply. "I don’t see how any rain could get in by accident." He pulled a drawerlike metal frame, crammed with microelectronic components, out into the morning sunlight through the access port. Then, pausing, he held up his hand and rubbed thumb and index finger together.

"Have you found something?" inquired Dr. Liu.

Tom nodded. "We can rule out Mother Nature as the culprit. This isn’t just rainwater, but water with some sort of oil floating around in it. It’s clinging and shorting out the circuitry."

"Brand my bowie knife, I’d like t’ take that archaeo-philosopist and cram him all th’ way up into his soupbowl helmet!" exclaimed Chow fiercely.

"Tom, my crusty workhorse of a truck,
Ignacio Viejo,
is at your disposal!" Professor Castillez stated.

The youth thanked him warmly but said, "It won’t be necessary. We’ve outsmarted the enemy this time!"

"How’s that, Tom?" asked Doc in surprise.

In response Tom unlocked and opened the paraplane’s storage bay. In a moment he had a duplicate electronics tray in his hand. "These deals plug in as a unit, and we’ve stowed a reserve one. I’ll just switch ’em out—and we’re on our way!"

When Tom had finished his work, he invited Doc and the five Mayas to board the plane. It was a tight squeeze, but the tiny passengers all managed to fit.

Bud commented, "Watch out for arrows up there, skipper!"

Tom chuckled but replied seriously, "Now that we’re taking off from the village, I don’t expect any problems. We’ll stay at a high altitude over the jungle. And by the way, guys, I wouldn’t just assume that Hutchcraft is behind all this."

"Meanin’ what?" Chow demanded.

"Meaning that skinny guy Max told us about," Tom replied. "He may have been the one who dumped water into the works—although he may be working with Hutch as an accomplice, of course. I think we should do some jungle detective work and try to get a line on that skinny joker—or at least find out if Magnificent Max just dreamed up the whole thing."

A high, frail voice suddenly spoke up. "There is something I would like to say," piped Jiang Liu hesitantly.

"Please go ahead," Tom encouraged her.

"If someone has done harm to your airplane, could it have happened last night?" she asked.

"Very likely."

"Then I believe I have seen something. Last night, as I readied for sleeping, I found that my locket was missing, and so I walked over to the spot where we had sat eating dinner. I found my locket, but when I looked up, I saw a person behind the airplane. I am sure of this."

"Could you make him out clearly?" Tom asked.

"He stood back in the shadows, but I am sure he was, what you say,
skinny.
That is, very slight of build." She concluded by saying that the figure had immediately withdrawn into the underbrush.

"You’ve been a wonderful help, ma’am," Tom said, taking her hand. She smiled demurely in response. Then Tom said to the assembled group, "We’ll talk about it when I get back." With a goodbye nod Tom clambered through the hatchway and made everything secure aboard the paraplane. The five little village men were strapped in, two to a strap. They carried their "city suits" on their laps, and sat wide-eyed but perfectly still.

"Please don’t worry," Tom said to them in Spanish.

The liftbag popped up and filled, and the parachute plane rose gently into the sunny sky. It took only a moment to clear the trees, and the young inventor gunned the jet engine. Finally, at a safe height, Tom furled the bag and simultaneously upthrottled. The wings swung out, and the little paraplane headed off at jet speed.

The brief trip was more like a great athletic broadjump than a flight. In less than a minute, Tom was arcing down for a soft balloon-borne landing next to the
Sky Queen
.

Tom waited aboard until the others had exited. As he stepped down, one of the Mayans approached and said in murky English, "Sir, for this running upon the cloud-path, we thank you."

"And
we
thank you, all of you," Tom replied, "and wish you a good trip to the United States."

After greeting Slim and the other crewmen, Tom hurried to the communications console and called Enterprises. Soon he was talking with his father. They chatted a few moments about the big project at the plant, then Mr. Swift asked, "How’s everything at your end, son?"

"Pretty well under control, Dad." Tom described the results obtained so far with his electronic retroscope and the on-the-spot improvements he had made to his invention. Then he continued, "By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you—have we ever found out what happened to those workmen who were hired to clear the landing spot for the
Queen?"

"We have indeed; though to tell you the truth, I don’t quite know what to make of it. According to our contractor, the workmen—all of them natives of the area—eventually returned to town, collected their pay, and went their separate ways. He has been unable to contact them directly since he found out that the job had not been done, but one man’s brother repeated an odd story that he had been told."

"A story?"

"When his brother returned, he told him that they had barely started work in the jungle when someone in the garb of a village shaman approached them. The man said their construction project was an offense to the jungle spirit-gods, and they would all be cursed and punished if they continued!"

As Mr. Swift paused, Tom expressed his amazement. "There’s more," Damon Swift went on. "That night, the camp was attacked by a number of men in black clothing, whose heads were completely covered! The men hooted and hollered like banshees, using clubs to damage some of the equipment, then melted away into the jungle. Needless to say, that was the end of the operation!"

"What do the local authorities say?"

"That there are bandits and criminal gangs hiding-out in the jungles," was the sober reply. "But they have no idea who these particular perpetrators might have been."

The young inventor gave a wry chuckle and shook his head. "To think we thought this would be a quick and easy trip!"

"Not quick and not easy," declared his father. "But as usual—full of danger! Please be careful, Tom. Whatever may be going on down there in Yucatan,
it could cost all of you your lives!"

AFTER bidding a final goodbye to the Mayans and Doc Simpson, Tom took to the air again in the paraplane. In minutes he was back in Huratlcuyon, talking to Bud, who had greeted him at the landing site.

"Well, that’s
one
down," Bud remarked.

"Yep, the Mayans are on their way. Now—I’ve gotten curious about what Max has hidden in his cave. I’ll keep my promise and pay him a visit."

"You think you can trust that overgrown herb eater?" Bud asked in concern

"Don’t worry. I’m not taking any chances." Tom smiled broadly. "I’m bringing along a couple experienced bodyguards—Barclay and Winkler!"

Bud laughed. "If the big man of Yucatan decides to get frisky, I’ll pull his hair again. And Chow can stomp on his toes!"

Chow, wary but interested in Max’s cuisine, was more than willing. Ten minutes later the three started out down the winding path, then veered off into the jungle. When they reached the area where Tom had faced the jaguar, they turned toward the hill Max had indicated and struck off on foot into the tangled wilderness.

They found the cave’s narrow entrance without difficulty, and were greeted by loud squawks and screeches from Max’s pet parrot perched in a nearby tree. Hearing the noise, Max came out.

"Oh, it’s you, Junior!" the giant boomed, giving Tom one of his bone-crushing handshakes and nodding at the others. "My pals from back home!"

"Hi, Max. I’d like to see some of those relics you were telling us about," Tom said. "We’re all ready to ‘not believe our eyes’!"

"Sure, sure! Come on in," Max replied, leading the way.

Beyond the cave entrance was a narrow, twisting passageway lined with rocks. The boys had no difficulty, but the giant had to turn sideways, and Chow found himself scraping both walls at once.
We’d sure never get the retroscope in through here,
Tom thought. Finally the passage opened out broadly. "Here we are," proclaimed Max.

The cave, which seemed to be very deep, was partly lighted by a guttering candle stuck into a porcelain bottle. Max’s home contained a well-reinforced hammock, a low cookstove, a rough table and bench hewn out of logs, and a jaguar rug.

Much of the living space was heaped with Mayan relics. Tom gasped at sight of the treasure trove! There were assorted items of pottery, carved stone figures and animal representations which looked as if they had once adorned the outside of a temple or palace, and a number of metal ornaments such as bracelets, arm bands, and necklaces.

"Good night! Where did you get all this?" Tom asked.

The giant shrugged. "Oh, I found ’em in the jungle or dug ’em up here and there. Some day I may give ’em to a museum."

Tom wondered if his host was aware of the Mexican government’s regulations about the finding of relics and art treasures. All such objects were supposed to be handed over to the civil authorities, who, in turn, would pay the finder. Tom decided not to mention this now, but Max himself raised the subject. "Now listen, boys, you’re not gonna tell on me, are ya? Way I see it, I’m protectin’ these things by bringin’ ’em in out of the rain and such."

"That’s a good point," said Tom. The young inventor examined a number of the relics, one by one. Suddenly his eye fell on a queerly shaped bowl. Tom picked it up and brought it closer to the light. The bowl was covered with faint carvings.

This is important!
Tom thought, as he studied the carvings under his pocket magnifying glass. Though badly worn, they looked to Tom’s trained eye like the mathematical symbols used by the Swifts’ space friends—the same as those which had been carved on the sacred stone of Ahau Quetzal’s tribe!

"Where did you find this bowl?" Tom asked.