Tom Swift and His Polar-Ray Dynasphere (7 page)

"And the mask you wore."

The prince remained stoic as Ames patted him down and searched his pockets, even taking the turban from his head. Finding nothing, Ames’s eyes roved about the room. "I take it this is your mask? The King?"

He felt about the inside surface. When he drew his hands into view again, they were filled. "This is the evidence we’re looking for," he said quietly.

"WHAT’S this all about?" Tom demanded.

"You’d better see for yourself," Ames replied. He opened his hands in the light.

He was holding two tiny bronze figures, identical to the Buddha Tom had discovered earlier!

Ames turned to Vusungira. "I presume these belong to you, Your Highness? Unusual place to keep them."

The glare of the Crown Prince was glacial. "I know nothing about these objects. What is the implication, sir?"

"Here is what your consulate provided me, passed along to them by channels they regard as credible. Shall I read the translation aloud?"

ESTEEMED HIGHNESS, ROYAL VUSUNGIRA, WE HAVE NEGOTIATED A SATISFACTORY PRICE FOR THE AMERICAN SCIENCE DATA TO BE INTERCEPTED BY THE BUDDHA STATUES . WE WILL BEGIN ARRANGEMENTS TO PURCHASE ARMAMENTS FOR THE OVERTHROW. BY MIGHTY CHOGYAL, SOON YOU SHALL BE KING!

The prince’s dark eyes blazed in fury. "I deny this insulting insinuation! I know nothing of these statues, or of any supposed ‘plot’ against my father, whom I honor with my soul! How did these channels receive this false message?"

"It was explained to Mr. Ram that the message is a copy of one acquired in Burma by agents of the Burmese security apparatus," Ames answered. "It’s thought the originators are still unaware that the plot has been broken."

"
Preposterous
!" Vusungira exclaimed. "What have these little statues to do with spying? You have found them in a mask, evidently concealed but hardly of any use."

Ames handed one to Tom, who scrutinized it with a scientist’s eye. "Good gosh—electronic circuitry! Set down in the right spot, it would look like a common souvenir or knick-knack but could monitor our conversations!"

"Then it’s most fortunate you discovered these implements before they had been placed," said Prince Vusungira coldly. "Yet I insist that I know nothing of the matter. Someone has hidden these in my mask without my knowledge."

Harlan Ames was unyielding. "It’s for others to determine, sir. For now I must ask you to come with me. Let’s not make this more difficult than necessary."

The prince snapped off a grim nod and Ames led him to an adjoining room, followed by Tom and Bud, and Mr. Swift.

Mr. Swift pulled the door shut behind him. Vusungira let out his breath and smiled slightly. "I trust my theatrical performance was adequate?"

"You belong in
Hamlet
, Your Highness," Bud joked and Tom shook the man’s hand.

"All right," said Mr. Swift. "Now we’ve got the others believing that the figure in the lab hasn’t yet been discovered, and that the statues planted in the mask have succeeded in casting suspicion on His Majesty."

"As Tom reasoned when we found them earlier, that’s the obvious purpose—to falsely implicate the Prince," Ames nodded.

Damon Swift frowned. "But I don’t quite follow the thread of all this. How were you able to satisfy yourself that this plot was directed against our royal guest, son?"

Tom explained, "Because I was able to put together a sequence of events that didn’t make much sense otherwise. Some glass fragments underneath Buddha showed that the nearby shelf had been shoved over
first, before
the statuette was put in position."

"Which my royal personage could not have accomplished," interjected Prince Vusungira, "as I was being sat upon at the time."

"Unless it was just a careless accident, I’d guess the shelf was knocked over so we’d discover the figure while cleaning up," Tom continued. "Whoever’s behind this is quick at thinking on his feet, taking advantage of my inadvertent blackout—but he didn’t know that what was happening in the dark would foul his plans."

Harlan Ames chuckled. "These young engineers need some seasoning before they go seriously into the espionage game."

"Genius boy’s had a
lot
of seasoning since his first invention," noted Bud gleefully. "Jetz! I was ready to do a little of that fancy bowing when Tom told me about it after we left the lab."

"As was I," stated Vusungira; "redoubled when our search revealed the two hidden ones in my mask. Yet who is the culprit?"

Tom responded thoughtfully, "Perhaps someone who wishes to alter the new line of succession." His thoughts were:
And it’s Prince Jahan who has a special interest in that issue!
"Now on to Phase Two!"

"Mighty smart of you, boss, to make the group think you hadn’t yet discovered the first statue," nodded Ames.

"And smart of
you
to come up with a way to use that fact to apply a bit of pressure, Harlan," commended Mr. Swift.

Bud grinned. "Let’s go make somebody sweat!"

Leaving Ames and Vusungira behind, the other three reentered the room. Tom announced soberly, "Fellows, you need to be aware that His Highness is now in custody and will be turned over to federal marshals."

"He is surely innocent!" protested Gyong.

"Then we’ll trust his innocence will be proven," the young inventor replied. "I intend to use a special detection device to learn if it was the Prince who handled the statues."

"What sort of device, sir?" asked one of the students. "For fingerprints, perhaps?"

"No, it’s my new photronic ultra-DNAlyzer, which detects the traces of individual DNA emanations that are picked up and stored by metal molecules through skin contact."

"Yet surely he would have taken precautions?" objected Rakshi. "To prevent fingerprints, he would surely have worn gloves."

Tom shrugged. "Then the test won’t show anything.
It only works if there was direct skin contact
. We’ll see."

The students filed out glumly, and Tom’s father quickly apprised the others of the series of events. "Holy Moe!" gulped Hank Sterling. "So what happens now?"

"Everyone was bare-handed this afternoon in the lab," Tom replied. "As he had to act quickly, without planning, I’m betting our spy didn’t think to slip on gloves or use a handkerchief. So right now he’s in a panic, thinking we’ll identify him with my Magical Mythical Machine when we run across the statue."

Bud’s grin was almost wicked. "So later tonight the lab will have a secret visit—from an
unseasoned
spy in a cold sweat!"

Two AM was passing across the Enterprises sky when a click announced that someone had unmade the lab’s door lock. A silhouette snuck across the tile, and a tiny beam, from a pencil-flash, pinned down a solemn bronze figure seated on a shelf in lotus position.

Suddenly a glow suffused the electronics lab—and a shriek of alarm and fear!

"Trying out a new style, Rakshi?" asked Tom Swift dryly, crouching next to the controls of his electrodynamic modulator.

Rakshi’s stylishly combed black hair stood out from his scalp like a gigantic dandelion puff!

Bud rose into view, holding one of the electric impulse guns developed by the Swifts. "Or are you just glad to see us?"

"
Wh-what have you done to me?
" gasped the young Vishnapurian, feeling about the crown of his head, like a weasel darting through tall grass.

Tom switched off his machine. "Just a slight electrostatic charge I thought I’d beam across the lab—to add a little drama to the dreary lives of after-hours intruders."

"Back away from Buddha, pal," Bud commanded.

Rakshi raised his hands, glaring in fury. "Okay, guys, so I’m caught. I’m also a foreign visitor in America with permission and diplomatic papers. Get it? I’ll be shuffled back to Vishnapur before the sun has a chance to get up!"

"Maybe," said Tom. "You may not enjoy what happens back home, though. I think your secret sponsors will be even more upset with you than the King." Rakshi’s sudden flush of white indicated his unvoiced agreement.

Raksi was indeed gone by sunrise, leaving a tired Tom and Bud to review that matter with Prince Vusungira over breakfast. "Evidently political matters in my country are not as settled as we have believed," mused the royal. "But I can’t accept the notion that my cousin Jahan is involved in this. He is a good man."

"But it could be someone who would gain if Jahan became King," Tom pointed out. "Or it might be a faction who only intend to use the issue to block the modernization program."

"Yes, Tom," Vusungira conceded, "for there are those who object to westernization on grounds of religion and tradition."

"Your Highness, what was that you mentioned?" asked Bud. "About a clue?"

"Perhaps I myself am a bit of an amateur sleuth as well as a cook," chuckled the Crown Prince. "I noticed at once that these Buddha figures are not merely trinkets of the sort mass-produced for tourists. You see, by tradition there are many different ‘Buddhas,’ differentiated by certain details of how they are portrayed. The common one, the ‘Happy Buddha’ giving his blessing, is the one most people know. But these statuettes portray something quite rare, the ‘Mocking Buddha,’ who holds a branch to chastise fools."

"Is this sort of figure unusual enough for us to be able to track down where it came from?" Tom inquired.

"If we were in Asia, no. But all of us—myself excepted—passed through our own stringent security procedures upon leaving Vishnapur for America by plane, and I feel certain the three figures would have been detected if they were being carried at that time. Assuming I myself am not the guilty party," he added with a wink.

"And so," Tom noted, "they must have been picked up by Rakshi while you were all in New York."

"That is my thinking as well. We all had some private time to engage in sightseeing. If there is a place in New York that sells the ‘Mocking Buddha,’ it could well be a front for this group of subversives. Someone working there might have inserted the listening circuitry and is involved in this distasteful plotting."

"True," said Bud. "Of course—they might just be importing these things from a supplier someplace without knowing what they’ve got. Tom had to use his prying-eye gadgets to look inside."

"But perhaps you will get, at least, a lead."

Some investigations the next day produced the desired result. As it turned out there was such a place in Manhattan—one only.

"‘
Treasures of Tibet.
’ I think Bud and I will pay that place a visit," Tom told Harlan Ames and Phil Radnor.

Bud remarked, "This office could use a few more Buddhas."

Late that afternoon the two boys flew to New York City in the
Skeeter
, a jetrocopter—an advanced jet heliplane which Tom had designed. From the marine facility on Long Island leased by Swift Enterprises they taxied to East Twenty-Eighth Street and entered the import shop, Treasures of Tibet, whose window bore a sticker:
China—Hands Off Tibet!

Its interior was dim and musty. The front section displayed silken saris, rugs, jewelry, and Oriental art objects. Its back wall shelves were piled high with jars and cartons of East Indian foodstuffs, such as ginger, saffron, and spices. Bud nudged Tom and indicated the label on one container—"Yorb from Vishnapur."

A man came round the counter and shuffled forward to greet the youths. He was an elderly, dark-skinned man with a kindly face and gentle eyes. "Welcome, young sirs. How may I help you?"

"Are you the owner, sir?" asked Tom.

"Indeed yes. I am Mr. Singh," he replied.

Tom pulled out one of the Buddha figures from his pocket. "I believe you sell these ‘Mocking Buddha’ statues, don’t you? I received one as a gift, and would like a companion piece for it. I know it was purchased here in Manhattan."

"Why yes, we do import these," he said. He pointed to a small mark on the underside. "This one is from Vishnapur, and we have others that are identical."

Bud spoke up. "Er—this was given by one of our friends who wanted to be anonymous. The note challenged us to try to figure out who it was—sort of a joke. We were thinking you might help us win the contest."

"Oh, I see, I see," nodded the man. "I believe we did sell one the other day—ah, even several. Rather odd, as few know of this ‘Mocking’ style of Lord Buddha."

Smiling, Tom asked if Mr. Singh had retained any information about the purchaser. "I saw only the record of the sale. It was handled by my clerk, Mr. Susak." He gestured, and for the first time Tom and Bud realized that there was a fourth person in the shop—a thin, sallow-faced young man—who had come out of the back room and was listening closely. "Benni, do you recall—?"

Susak shrugged. "Yes, sir. I remember him asking for the Mocking Buddha quite definitely. A rather young man."

"Narrows it down," Bud commented.

"I’m afraid he gave no name. He purchased three of them. We are almost out, now."

"I’d like to buy one more, if I may."

Benni Susak suddenly appeared flummoxed. "Oh! I see. But pardon me, I meant to say that we
are
out of them—we have no more at present. Too bad."

Mr. Singh laughed. "But where is your mind, Benni? I saw one upon the back shelf just this morning." He turned to his visitors. "I’ll get it for you."

Tom asked a few more questions in a casual manner and learned that all goods carried by the shop, produced in India, Burma, Nepal, and Vishnapur, were obtained from the firm of exporters in Mumbai—Bombay—who were the actual owners of Treasures of Tibet. "If you are curious, you might wish to contact Mukerji and Sons," suggested Mr. Singh.

Purchase completed and neatly wrapped, the boys left with expressions of thanks.

"That clerk looks like a phony to me," Bud muttered as they walked away. "He sure wasn’t thrilled at selling that statue. I’ll bet this Buddha has an unenlightened stomach too. An overstock on bugware."

Tom agreed. "And our visit may worry him. It’s almost closing time. Let’s see where he goes after work. Maybe to warn someone the plot’s in danger."