Tom Swift and His Electronic Retroscope (15 page)

Bud came rushing up. "What’s with the fancy flying up there?"

"The controls are dead," Tom said tersely as he and his passengers climbed out. "I think something has been done to the hydraulic system."

"What do you mean,
has been done?"
demanded Rodriguez. "Do you intend to implicate someone else, young man?"

The young scientist-inventor briefly explained the problems they had had with sabotage, omitting to mention the diamond-tipped arrows. "Anyway," he concluded, "we’re lucky we didn’t crack up."

Unscrewing the cowl panels, he made a quick check of the paraplane’s hydraulic system as a crowd from the village formed around them. "There’s the answer." He pointed to a hose from the main pump. The hose had a pinpoint leak through which the hydraulic fluid had oozed out, causing a loss of operating pressure.

"Well, I’ll be doggoned!" Bud scratched his head. "For a new ship, that hose sure didn’t last long!"

"Perhaps the rubber rotted in this jungle atmosphere," conjectured Dr. Liu. "It happens frequently."

"That hose isn’t made of rubber," Tom pointed out. "It’s a synthetic plastic called Tomasite that’s impervious to heat or humidity. I’m sure someone punctured this deliberately, probably last night." His mind silently added:
with a diamond-tipped tool!

"But what about your magnetic-field alarm?" objected Bud.

Tom sighed. "I’m afraid technological progress has made our poor old alarm system too easy to defeat."

Realizing that the youth was in earnest, Chief Rodriguez said, "If there is a criminal at large, why did you not tell me,
señor?
Surely it is a matter for the law."

"I had no definite evidence," Tom replied. "In fact, I still haven’t."

"Only suspicions," Bud added darkly. "I
wonder
if Hutchcraft can account for his whereabouts last night!"

"If we had crashed, it would have been murder!" Rodriguez declared angrily. He repeated it in Spanish, and his companions nodded emphatically.

With Bud’s help Tom replaced the leaky hose and repressurized the hydraulic system. He also insisted on once again checking every inch of the paraplane. Police Chief Rodriguez and his two constables watched keenly, unsure what to believe.

Suddenly there was a loud commotion and the sound of angry cries. To Tom’s amazement, he saw Magnificent Max, looking wild-eyed and upset, pushing his way among the alarmed Maya villagers as the women grabbed their children and scurried away to safety.

The jaws of the policemen dropped in astonishment. "And who is
this?"
demanded the
jefe
in a strained voice, staring in awe as the enraged jungle giant thudded straight toward the little group.

"A friend of ours—at least he was yesterday," Tom whispered. He faced the ex-wrestler calmly, hoping to quiet him. "You’re just in time to join us, Max," he said pleasantly. "We have some visitors who flew down from Mexico City. This is Chief Rodriguez of the regional
Policia,
and this—"

"The cops, eh?" Max glared down at the
jefe
and thrust out his lower jaw belligerently. "Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, Chief, but I’m fighting mad! This guy Tom Swift’s nothing but a low-down thief—and I’ve got proof!"

"My boss a thief!" burst out Chow Winkler indignantly, having been swept up in Max’s wake. "You crazy ole TV faker, you must be out o’ your ape-man mind!"

Max looked like a volcano about to explode and Chow gulped—but held his ground. Tom said evenly, "I’m sure there’s some mistake, but we’ll straighten it out."

Before he could continue, Rodriguez interposed, his fingers lightly resting upon his holstered gun. "That is a most serious charge you make," he told Max in a firm but reasonable voice. "Suppose you tell us what has happened."

"What happened?
Robbery
is what happened! This kid and his cronies sneaked into my cave and swiped some of my Mayan relics—
that’s
what happened!" Max stormed.

Tom said icily, "You said you had proof. What proof? Lay it out for us
now!"

"Well, who else coulda done it?" the giant insisted furiously. "You and your pals are the only ones who knew about ’em—and what’s more you were
mighty
interested in ’em!" Glaring at Tom, Max shook his hamhock fist in the youth’s face. "Go on—admit it!" he bellowed. "You snuckered into my cave this morning while I was out picking nuts and guavas for my healthy high-energy gift-of-nature breakfast!"

"I haven’t been out of this village all morning," Tom said coldly, "except up in the sky. If you’ll just sit down and stop shouting, we can talk this over sensibly."

"Don’t gimme that soft soap!" Max threatened. "I know you snitched those treasures! Either hand ’em over or I’ll by gosh tear you limb from limb!"

Professor Castillez, Dr. and Mrs. Liu, and the watching villagers—and perhaps Pedro and Miguel as well—were thoroughly frightened by now, and Tom had long since placed a hand on Bud’s forearm to prevent his roaring to the defense of his best friend. But Tom continued to speak softly. "The same way you killed that jaguar with your bare bands?" Tom asked the giant, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

The question seemed to deflate Magnificent Max’s blustering ego. "Okay, okay, so you saved my life," the long-haired giant admitted sulkily with a nervous glance at the little Mayans. "But don’t think that changes anything."

"I believe I can convince you," Tom said gently. "Come with me."

He led the giant to the visitors’ hut and showed him the Mayan bowl, which had been carefully stored in a box lined with soft jungle grasses. "As you can see, the only thing of yours here is this bowl you lent us. Search the place yourself if you don’t believe me."

Max poked about halfheartedly, then turned back to Tom. "How do I know you don’t have the stuff hidden somewhere else?" he grumbled.

Tom shrugged and handed him the bowl. "Since you don’t trust me, take the bowl along, although with the thief still at large it may be safer here right now. That goes for your other treasures, too."

Max blushed and fingered the bowl awkwardly, as if uncertain what to do with it. "Okay, maybe I was shootin’ off my month out of turn," he admitted. "I guess I do that now and then. Too much energy. You keep the bowl for a few days."

He handed the bowl to Tom and the two returned to the open, Max bending low to duck through the hut’s doorway. Bud and the others noted with relief that the giant’s belligerence was gone; he actually looked shamefaced.

"Just forget what I said about this guy, eh pal?" Max told
Jefe
Rodriguez. He added with a puzzled look on his broad pug face, "But I still can’t figure out what happened to the stuff. Heck’s neck, if none of you guys took it, who did?"

"Mebbe that skinny hombre is the thief," Chow piped up. "Ever think o’
him?"

Max’s jaw dropped open in a look of surprised consternation. "Hey! Maybe you got something there, old-timer! I better get back and hide the rest of my treasures before that skinny sneak pulls another fast one!"

"It might be a good idea," Tom agreed.

The giant lumbered off, pausing only long enough to call back over his shoulder, "Or maybe I’ll bring ’em here for you to keep for me, Junior!"

As Max disappeared, Pedro and Miguel shook forth a pair of wide-eyed shudders. Rodriguez stared at Tom and said mildly, "I believe our visit of investigation is concluded, Mr. Swift. There are those in my position who might press further—considering that the giant man seems to be
suggesting
that he possesses relics that belong by rights to my government. But perhaps he was only raving;
fighting mad,
as he said." Rodriguez flashed Tom a conspiratorial wink, and Tom smiled back in gratitude.

Minutes later the three officers had boarded their helicopter and taken to the air.

"And now it seems you have another mystery to solve," remarked Professor Castillez. "I suppose this phantom bandit of yours completed the task that had brought him to the cave yesterday."

"Or he may have been planning to stake it out until Muscle Man stepped out," Bud suggested.

"We won’t let it stop us," said Tom.

"Won’t let
what
stop you?"

The group spun about. Hutchcraft was approaching from the fringe of trees.

Tom explained the encounter with Max and the
policia,
trying to gauge the archaeologist’s reaction. The man responding with only a mild interest. "During all this melodrama I’ve been over picking around among the stone slabs next to the
cenote."

Chow gave him a suspicious glare. "Ya have, huh. An’ what’s that?"

"The round pool just beyond the edge of the village, on the other side," was the reply. "Perhaps you thought it was the
ole swimmin’ hole,
hmm?"

Tom quickly stepped in. "Hutch, why don’t you show us the area? I don’t believe we’ve looked for any carvings on that side." Hutchcraft shrugged but turned to lead them.

"While you inspect the cenote, Tom, I’ll contact your father over my short-wave," said Castillez. "I know you wished to speak to him."

Tom, Bud, and Dr. and Mrs. Liu followed Hutchcraft across the village, Chow bringing up the rear. "I have had no success thusfar in my own investigations," remarked Dr. Liu. "Whatever might remain of ancient Chinese ideograms is filtered through generations of tribal dialect and ceremonial decoration."

Hutchcraft assumed his usual smile of superiority. "The Mayan tongue is a
fascinating
problem."

"A problem?" Tom raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"Well, no doubt in school you learned how Latin gradually died out in Europe and changed into other languages, such as Italian, French, and Spanish. It’s the same way with ancient Mayan. Today it survives in the form of various dialects, but we don’t really know what the old language was like."

"Don’t tell me it’s got even
you
baffled!" Bud needled.

"Oh, we linguists have deduced
certain
facts," Hutchcraft, unruffled, replied smoothly. "For instance, we believe that the language spoken down in the Guatemalan highlands and up in the northern part of Yucatan belongs to the same branch—called Yucatec."

"Didn’t the language change a lot when the Mayas were invaded by warlike tribes, especially the Toltecs?" Tom put in.

Hutchcraft nodded. "Ah, I see you’ve been doing your reading. Yes, the invaders spoke a language called nahuatl. They added many words to the Mayan tongue, although the form and grammar of the old language probably remained pretty much the same."

Tom noticed that Dr. Liu was listening intently but making no comment to his fellow researcher.

By this time, the strollers had reached the outskirts of the village. A little way beyond was a big, deep-sided pool with white limestone walls. The visitors had seen it many times but had never bothered to examine it closely.

"Okay, so there it is," Chow declared. "An’ it’s not a ding-danged swimmin’ pool—so tell us what it is!"

"It’s called a
cenote,
as I said," Hutchcraft responded. "You see, Yucatan is really a parched country, in spite of all this tropical vegetation. There are no lakes or rivers. The only water is the rain which soaks below the surface and is held in the limestone rock. Wells like this occur at points where the limestone crust has caved in. The Maya usually build their villages close to a cenote so as to have a water supply."

As the rest of the group strolled closer to peer into the well, Bud muttered to Tom, "Listen to that guy spout off—he knows it all! I’ll bet he just boned up on this stuff to impress Dr. Liu!"

Tom grinned but said nothing, lest Hutchcraft overhear them.

The well was as large as a good-sized pond. Its water, cool, sparkling, and deep, lay about ten feet below ground surface, encircled by steep mossy walls of much-eroded stone blocks. A large hollowed-out gourd, used as a bucket, waited nearby next to a long rope. Hutchcraft, who obviously enjoyed showing off his knowledge, continued his lecture.

"At the ancient Mayan capital of Chichen Itza, there are two cenotes," he said. "One was used for human sacrifice. But this was due to the influence of the Toltecs, a barbarous people."

Chow was horrified, "You mean they drowned people in these things?" he exclaimed.

Hutchcraft nodded. "As a gesture to their rain god, beautiful maidens who were going to be married were shoved in. It’s thought they considered it an honor. They were so weighted with heavy jewelry that they invariably sank at once. Sometimes the grooms-to-be jumped in too." Noticing that Bud, standing next to him, was wiping his brow and giving a glance to the blazing sun, Hutch added, "What say we re-enact the custom and get cooled off? You first, Barclay—I hear you’re
quite
the athlete."

"No thanks," said Bud curtly. He was in no mood to banter with the man he believed was in league with Tom’s enemies.

"Oh come now, let’s see some of that devil-may-care bravery of yours." Hutchcraft advanced on him jokingly, as if to carry out his playful suggestion. Frowning, Bud hastily backed away. But as he dodged the older man’s outstretched hand, he lost his balance, gave a yelp of alarm, and toppled into the well!

Tom was furious. "You dope!" he cried out at Hutchcraft. "Maybe you’d like to get dunked yourself!"

The Bostonian gulped and turned pale as he saw that the young inventor meant business. "No, no! I can’t swim!" he pleaded. Ducking away from Bud’s outraged friends, Hutchcraft fled toward the village in panic.

"He has not come up," murmured Jiang Liu to her husband.

"Somethin’s wrong!" Chow cried in alarm. "Buddy Boy musta hit his head!"

Tom poised to dive in. He did not wait even to remove his heavy hiking boots. But before he could jump the others gave sighs of relief as Bud’s head popped into view. He swam to the edge and clambered up the steep side with help from Tom, Chow, Dr. Liu, and the bucket rope.

"You scared us silly, flyboy," Tom remonstrated as his soaked, moss-streaked chum reached the top. "What happened?"

Bud laughed. "I thought as long as I was playing sacrificial maiden, I’d see if I could pick up some ancient jewelry in the well." He made a wry face and snorted. "Nothing on the bottom but mud!"