Tom Swift and His Electronic Retroscope (19 page)

Bud started to say something, but he was interrupted by a sound from above. Some small rocks and pebbles had come rolling down the hole-tunnel and fallen to the floor.

"Hey Chow!" Bud called out. "You okay up topside?"

There was no response, and the two looked at one another in alarm. After a few more shouts, Tom said, "Let’s climb up and take a look."

Tom had no sooner placed one foot on the rope ladder than Bud suddenly jerked him away as the entire ladder came clattering down, falling in a heap in front of the youths. "What’s going on?" Tom demanded.

A faint high voice came drifting down from above.
"Can you hear me? You below, do you hear?"

"Mrs. Liu!" Bud shouted. "We hear you!"

Tom shouted next. "Our rope ladder has come loose! Do you see Chow Winkler anywhere up there?"

"Oh yes, yes I do," came the voice, now sounding a bit stronger. "He is lying on the ground!"

Tom was startled. "Is he all right?"

"No, I would not suppose so," was the reply. "He is unconscious. A little blood on the side of his head."

"Blood!"

"Yes," called Mrs. Liu. "I may have hit him a bit too hard with my little rock. My arms are very thin, but sometimes I do not know my own strength."

Thunderstruck, Tom and Bud stood dead silent as Dr. Liu’s wife continued. "Oh my goodness, please don’t worry, boys. I’m sure your friend will be all right. He was watching for enemies, wasn’t he? As I came close, he couldn’t guess that I was one."

"I think we’ve found the skinny phantom!" Tom pronounced in disgust.

"I heard you," called down Jiang Liu. "I am skinny indeed, but strong and light of foot. Stephenus and I, we work very well together as a team, don’t you think? That is why we were both given this assignment in the field as a couple, together. Usually, my dear one stays home, pursuing his foolish hobby—his silly theory about the Chinese. I have had to push him a bit now and then. But he is loyal and lovable."

Tom called, "Which one of you is the archer?"

"Why I am, of course. I have won many competitions as a girl in China. Of course, using these peculiar arrows is not so easy, but it pleased me to master the ancient customs of the Maya—though we had to violate tradition with those diamond tips."

"You don’t know how much I hate to say this," grumbled Bud to Tom, "but I think we owe Hutch an apology."

A tinkling laugh came down from Mrs. Liu. "No, no, my dear boy, it is
I
who should apologize to the poor man. But I really felt the need to throw you off for
just
a bit longer. Surely you soon would have guessed that Stephenus and I had caused you your many problems—shooting our arrows, doing things to your plane mechanisms, ruining the Professor’s radio set. At the same time, should I not be thanked, at least by the cave-man? I couldn’t bear to see him fall prey to that jaguar. He is really a sweet, simple soul."

"What were you two after, the relics in Max’s cave?"

"Oh no, not at first," she answered. "I was merely following you boys the other day when you almost caught me. But when you returned with his bowl and described his treasures, it occurred to us that even a few of those relics might fetch a good price in support of our cause. Do you have the tiniest idea what our cause is? Surely not. They call us bandits, our little group. But we fight to liberate the ancient peoples of Yucatan and Chiapas from centuries of European oppression. People like you come down from our all-mighty United States to plunder these people’s sacred objects and destroy their way of life. Sometimes, that is all they have left. Our group grows slowly, but we will do all we must to prevent these things. Do you see? But no matter. Oh dear. Goodbye, goodbye."

Bud broke the silence that followed. "I don’t like the sound of that ‘goodbye’, genius boy."

Three loud blasts rattled down through the tunnel above! Daylight was cut off as rocks, dirt, and smoke came pouring down. Tom and Bud frantically jumped back, away from the avalanche.

"She’s collapsed the hole!" cried Tom.

As the debris showered down with a thudding rumble, the worklight suddenly went dark, shattered and buried. Inky blackness filled the tomb chamber.

Finally quiet returned. "What a scare!" Bud gulped.

"But we’re alive, pal—we’re alive!" Tom drew a deep breath of relief!

"Now all we have to do is get out of here," Bud remarked dryly. "Unless we plan to wait for daylight with our bony friends."

"Looks as if we’ll either have to wait for someone to show up with some great big shovels, or find our own way out." Tom did not say it aloud, but he had another worry.
What if these first blasts were only the beginning of an attempt to bring down the chamber on their heads and bury them completely?

"I vote we find the exit," Bud said, adding gloomily: "That’ll be fun." The underground chamber was in darkness. Even the retroscope screen had gone black, its power cable jerked out of its socket by the falling rock that buried it.

"Liu said these structures were built like a maze," mused Tom. "I don’t think
that
was a lie, at least. If we feel along the walls, we may find steps or a corridor leading up to the surrounding hallways near the surface." Tom concentrated, trying to visualize the layout as he had briefly seen it.

His concentration was suddenly broken as a weird quavering scream filled the darkness!

"Good gosh!" Bud exclaimed in a panic of dread. "It’s the—the skeletons!—
they’re coming back to life!"

"No, pal, not the skeletons," declared his friend. "That’s Max’s parrot! We’ve got to follow the sound!"

Stumbling through the darkness in the direction of the sounds as fast as they dared, their outstretched fingers touched the lefthand wall. Taking the lead, Bud felt his way along, inch by inch, as the screeching continued. Moments later, the slabbed wall was interrupted by a narrow gap.

"Some kind of doorway, Tom," Bud proclaimed excitedly. "And the screeches sound like they’re coming out of it!" Leading on at Tom’s urging, they found themselves at what felt like the foot of a stone stairway.

The steps were so narrow and steep they had to plant their feet sideways on them as they worked their way upwards. At the top the steps ended in a rough-sided, winding corridor, rendered almost impassable by debris.

"I hate to think what I might be stepping on!" Bud muttered.

"Just keep thinking about our friend the parrot," was the reply from behind him. "Sounds like we’re getting close."

After following the cramped tunnel for many minutes, Bud discovered his progress blocked by what seemed to be an accumulation of small, loose objects around his feet. Plunging ahead, he rammed up against a tall, broad obstruction with a slight give to it. Bud shoved, and a chink of very faint orange-yellow light appeared. Instantly the voice of the parrot redoubled in volume!

"Think I’ve found it, Tom!" he called out.

"Look!" Tom called back. "We’re inside Max’s treasure vault! The corridor goes right through the hill—Max’s cave must be what’s left of the original tomb entrance!"

The young inventor pushed his way forward. After knocking his shin against a stone statue and almost falling on his face when he stumbled against the wall, Tom finally reached his friend’s side. "It’s going to take some muscle to break this barrier down," Bud warned.

"Let’s give it the old heave-ho!" Tom said. On signal, they crashed their shoulders against the stone and interwoven branches of the crude, makeshift door. On their fourth attempt, the obstruction finally burst open amid a shower of loose dirt and rock.

By the faint glow rebounding along the walls from Max’s distant candle, they made their way to the main room. "Guess the big guy’s out," Tom remarked. "But he left the lights on." They hurried along, and in moments stood in front of the cave in the deep shadows of the early morning sun.

"Oh man, does that air feel good!" Bud gulped. He looked up at Max’s pet parrot, still screeching away on its perch in the tree. "Hey, thanks for the help, featherweight!"

Turning to Tom, the young flyer asked if they should go back immediately to rescue Chow. "I’d like to, but the Lius could be waiting for us there with rifles, for all we know. Let’s run for the village and get help from Castillez and the Mayans—maybe even from Hutchcraft."

Panting from the heat they crashed recklessly through the brush. Their friend’s life was at stake! But as the village came in sight, Tom abruptly dug in his heels and yanked Bud back. A number of black-clad figures were roaming between the huts—figures with fearsome automatic weapons in their hands!

"The Lius must have given them a signal," Tom whispered. "They’ve taken over!"

Bud gestured grimly toward the doorways of the huts in view. The frightened faces of the men, women, and children of Huratlcuyon peered out into the sunlight, helpless captives of the armed men.

Bud looked at Tom quizzically—
what now?
The young inventor thought for a moment. And then he smiled.

The cadre member assigned to guard the strange airplane of the
Americanos
did not realize that it was a four-door model. Once, a slight noise drew his gaze behind him, to the wall of jungle just beyond the craft. But he saw nothing.

Tom and Bud did not bother re-closing the passenger-side door behind them as they crept low across the bucket seats. They managed to keep below the guard’s line of sight, and were thankful for the shadows. The man knew nothing until another sound—a sort of whooshing and a loud fluttery
Pop!—
caused him to whirl about, weapon at ready. His eyes grew wide and he fell back. The plane had grown a dirigible bag on its topside and was rising smoothly into the air!

The guard’s burst of automatic fire made Tom and Bud nervous, but had no effect on the tough skin of the paraplane and its liftbag. "He’d have better luck with traditional methods—diamond-tipped arrows!" gibed Bud.

At one-thousand feet, Tom prepared to cut in the jet and hop over the hill, to size up the situation from above. But Bud yanked his arm. "Look below!"

While the jungle bandits had concentrated their attention and their fire upward, Chief Quetzal and his subjects had suddenly come surging from the huts in force, a human tidal wave wildly swinging any loose object they could get their hands on! The boys cheered as the jungle gang fell back; the villagers seemed to have the upper hand.

Suddenly Tom’s face turned ashen. From his elevated vantage point he could see reinforcements in black entering the fray from the jungle, behind the people of Huratlcuyon. A sneak attack!

The young inventor’s hands leapt at the paraplane controls. Squeezing the liftbag, he forced the craft into a hair-raising drop, easing into a hover at 100 feet. Then he reached down, twisted a hand-grip, and yanked a lever next to his feet.

Craning his neck, Bud whistled. Plumes of pure white arced downward from the paraplane, spreading in all directions like spider legs. Reaching the ground, they seemed to throw the struggling crowd into chaos. As they scattered wildly, the youths could see that the insurgents from the brush were being driven back—and seemed to be catching the wave of panic like a contagion!

Bud barked out a laugh of triumph. "You’ve done ’em in, skipper! Guess they don’t take to smog."

Tom joined in the laughter but shook his head impishly. "It isn’t smog, flyboy. I unloaded a bit of excess liquid helium from our tank. It’s so super-cold it reacted instantly with the moisture in this humid air."

"Instant fog, huh?"

"Nope. We’ve just given Huratlcuyon its very first snowstorm!"

The youths’ high spirits concealed their worry at what would happen next, when the guerilla-gang regrouped. But rescue suddenly came charging into the village from the direction of the roadway—men in tan
policia
uniforms, firing guns into the air. "Good night—it’s
Jefe
Rodriguez!" marveled Tom.

Outnumbered and disoriented, the bandits surrendered with little resistance, and the
jefe
waved Tom down to a safe landing.

"Very
good to see you again!" Bud exclaimed as he jumped from the paraplane.

"The circumstances are a bit more pleasant, eh?" The special officer smiled as he shook their hands.

"You knew what you’d find here, obviously," Tom said. "But how?"

"Ah. We knew something was very askew even as we left in our helicopter the other day," the
jefe
explained. "You see, we were already on the hunt for a pair of
banditos fantomes
that were thought to be husband and wife. We had a general description, from an informant, you see. And so when I met your Dr. Liu and his wife—let us say I was most suspicious. So we landed at a
policia
outpost some miles distant, near Iturbe. There, I contacted my superiors for permission, and put together this force of men. Our vehicles are parked one mile up the road. Soon they will be filled with these criminals, on their way to imprisonment."

"You have the gratitude of all our hearts,
Jefe
Rodriguez," said Ahau Hu-Quetzal in Spanish, translated for the Americans by a beaming Professor Castillez.

"Another should have his share in it," declared Rodriguez. "We did not know the village had already been overrun. We would have walked into a trap but for your friend, Hutchcraft, who called to us from his hiding place next to the road and told us what had happened."

"Nuts," Bud groaned. "An obnoxious good guy! Go figure."

One of Rodriguez’s lieutenants now came rushing up to report that there was no sign of the Lius among the prisoners. Tom quickly described the attack on Chow next to the hill. "Dr. Liu may have gone to join his wife there, or they may have fled together. They might have carried Chow along with them as a hostage!"

"Carried him? Not
likely,"
Bud muttered.

"Do not worry,
señors,
" the police chief said. "I assure you these two will not get far. My men and I will now take over!" Then he raised his eyebrows and turned to Hu-Quetzal. "That is, with your permission,
ahau."

With Quetzal’s help, Rodriguez hastily organized three search parties of native Mayan trackers. He, Pedro, and Miguel would each head a group. Before the search parties could take off, however, there was an outburst of excitement from the chattering Mayas.