Tom Swift and His Triphibian Atomicar (14 page)

"Not safely," Tom muttered. "Even with our magnetic wheels, the car isn’t designed to make 100 miles per hour over this kind of rocky terrain. Guess we’ll
have
to risk flying out of this, even if it makes us sitting—
flying!
—ducks for those guns." He slid the unicontrol switch and the atomicar rose into the air, ten feet, twenty feet—and then it began to shudder as bullets caromed off its underhull.

Tom eased her down to the ground again. "The bullets can’t penetrate the Durastress shell, but they could knock out the Lunite antenna rods in the repelatron radiators," he explained tensely. "When we lift off, we don’t have our dust cloud making us hard to target."

Bud understood. "And if we stay on the ground, they catch up to us—horsemen catching an atomic car! Jetz, Tom—we’re
sunk!
"

"Maybe," gulped the young inventor. "But maybe not!"

THE TROOP of horsemen followed the ragged cloud of dust across the floor of the walled valley. Now and then their gleaming quarry could be glimpsed at the front of it, and now and then they fired their rifles. But they saw that they were closing the gap, and were confident.

Yet as the low-slung, hesitant wind began to disperse the dust, their confidence also faded, turning to puzzled amazement.

Where was the red demon on wheels?

They followed the tracks of the
Silent Streak
all the way up to the edge of the lake. There, with a few score feet left to go, the wheel tracks simply stopped, as if the strange rolling phantom had simply evaporated like a desert mirage.

One horseman invoked the beard of the prophet, another his blessed tongue.

Another just shrugged. "And just how do you plan to explain
this
, Abou?" he muttered to a companion.

"Excuse me? Explain
what?
" was the rejoinder. "Did
you
see something, Hadj? Not me!"

After a tiny hop through the air at a one-foot elevation, Tom’s atomicar had plunged into the water and driven right across the bottom to the center of the lake, which was deep. Here the youths sat, breathing by means of the hydrolung system that fed air to the passenger cabin.

"Shouldn’t you kill the lights, Skipper?" Bud urged. "If they know we’re down here― "

"The light can’t be seen, except by us through the viewdome," Tom murmured, his thoughts very much elsewhere. "The aqualamp principle."

Realizing they were trapped, both youths tried to keep a bold front.

"This can’t last long," pronounced the young scientist-inventor. "They’ll get bored and ride off in a while."

"Absolutely!" agreed his chum heartily. "We’ll just wait ’em out! And say—maybe you can tell if they’re there with your all-angle radar gizmo."

"Afraid not," was the reply. "Not through water."

"Okay. So we wait. I’m not in a hurry. You got anything going for tonight, Skipper?"

"Me? Naw."

"Me neither."

They waited. An hour seemed sufficient. At length, with a gulp, Tom adjusted the atomicar’s buoyancy control and allowed the foam-filled pontoons to carry the
Streak
up to the surface.

It seemed an hour was not sufficient after all.

Where once there had been a dozen, now there were as many as fifty horsemen, mounted and silently lining the banks on both sides of the lake. At a shout and a hand signal, they aimed their rifles at the atomicar bubble.

"Call the
Queen!
" Bud whispered. "They can be here in ten minutes!"

"We can be dead in five. Durastress is strong, but if they fire enough bullets, they’re bound to hit a door panel seam—and that’ll be a sad story for Tom and Bud."

"Fine. Then let’s polish our credentials as ambassadors of good will!"

They made gestures of surrender, and Tom slowly guided the
Silent Streak
to shore next to the man who seemed to be Commander-In-Chief.

Tom opened the door panel on his side and stood up. "We’re friends!" he cried, raising his voice. "Why attack—when we come in peace?"

His words were drowned by the furious shouts of the horsemen. Reining up sharply, those closest leapt from their saddles and swarmed about the two young Americans, wading into the lake. Both boys were pulled from the car, roughly. The tribesmen shouted again as Tom managed to signal the cybertron to shut the doors, which were cut with such microscopic precision that the hairline edges vanished to sight as the doors sealed themselves. The viewdome appeared unbroken.

In a few moments Tom’s and Bud’s hands were bound behind them by strong, rough cord.

Then the bearded leader drew a curved, scimitarlike blade from his gaudy cummerbund. He brandished it menacingly at the boys.

Tom and Bud paled. "Looks as though he means business!" Bud gasped.

The Americans silently uttered prayers as the Kabulistan chieftain, ranting at them loudly, flicked his scimitar closer to their faces.

Tom felt utterly helpless. Were he and Bud really about to be killed? Would he never see his mother and dad, or Sandy and Bashalli again?

Suddenly a distant shout broke in on the chieftain’s tirade. Tom and Bud stared. A horseman, wearing a sun helmet and khaki riding breeches in the European style, came galloping across the valley. Two other riders followed close behind. The boys’ captors turned to face the newcomers.

The leading horseman was hawkfaced and black-bearded. Something about him seemed familiar, ever more so as he neared them. Suddenly Tom gasped. "
Flambo!
"

Bud scowled, half in rage and half in fear. "I told you that guy was our enemy!" he muttered. "I’ll bet he’s the one who started these hotshots gunning for us!"

Flambo reined in his horse with a splatter of dust and gravel, then sprang to the ground. Boldly striding forward he barked something at the chieftain in a guttural tongue. Soon all the tribesmen were chattering back at him. They gesticulated wildly, first at the two boys, then toward the atomicar.

"
Ke jaw!
" Flambo waved his hand to quiet them. Then he said to the two boys, "You have been most unwise."

"You mean coming here unarmed?" Tom retorted. "We’ve done nothing. Why should your men attack us?"

The swarthy engineer-industrialist frowned. "These are not my people. They are Baluchi tribesmen—somewhat wild, as you see, but perfectly willing to be friends. Unfortunately, at their first approach, you frightened them out of their wits by zooming off in your flying car."

The tribesmen, Flambo went on, had concluded the car was bewitched, and that its riders must be in league with Shaitan. "Do not insult them by scoffing. In this part of Kabulistan, it is best to be known as a supporter of traditional family values—and they are
all
family."

"That’s just great. So what were we supposed to do, pass out chewing gum?" Bud growled. "The way those spearmen came whooping down on us didn’t look like any game of tag. A fine way to make friends!"

Flambo chuckled, showing his white even teeth. "Ah well. A bit terrifying, no doubt. It took years for me and my employees to earn their trust. You see, the mountain tribes in this part of the world have always been free as hawks, since the world’s first morning. Next to his horse, a spear or a rifle is a man’s best friend—and he is apt to use it out of sheer high spirits. They say they were greeting you with joy, not trying to wound you. But then they became afraid."

Bud rolled his eyes unseen. But Tom spoke sincerely. "We’ve come here to help them keep their freedom," he said.

Flambo eyed the young inventor keenly, then murmured, "Yes, I think I believe you."

He turned and spoke to the tribesmen for a few minutes. Their leathery, sunburned faces gradually broke into friendly grins. At a word from their chief, two of them untied Tom and Bud.

"This is Fedzir Duurq," Flambo said, introducing their leader.

The chief laughed, slapped the boys on the back, and pumped their hands in a sinewy grip. As he did so, he poured out a flood of words.

"He is inviting us all to be his guests," Flambo translated. He added dryly, "I think it would be wise to accept."

Tom smiled. "We’ll be honored."

The boys were allowed to go back in the atomicar and drive it out of the water. The tribesmen eyed it suspiciously at first. But seeing that Tom and Bud made no effort to fly off, the men were soon riding alongside, cheering and playfully firing off their rifles into the air. During the course of the trip, Tom radioed the
Sky Queen
and explained the situation. "So we may be delayed a while, but everything seems okay."

"Rather than run out our fuel, I’ll set her down in the desert," Slim said.

The triumphal procession proceeded to the Baluchi camp, tucked into a canyon several miles away. Veiled women and bright-eyed children came from their tents to stare at the strangers. Many wore bangles and earrings.

As Tom and Bud got out, they heard one word among the mutterings repeated over and over:
aghashi!
"A word borrowed from the Persians. What does it mean?
Evil eye.
They are afraid you two
djinn
will curse them," Flambo explained.

In the gaily carpeted chieftain’s tent, huge silver samovars were brought out and the guests were served tea. Then later came a huge feast. The main course was roasted sheep’s head. The meal ended with melons, figs, and pomegranates for dessert.

Fedzir Duurq made a long speech of welcome. Tom replied, with Flambo acting as interpreter. He tried to give the Baluchi an idea of the purpose of the Provard project. Then the Q’han, as the leader was called, presented each boy with a curving, intricately carved sword of Damascus steel. They acknowledged the gifts with gestures and smiles.

"What can
we
give, Skipper?" Bud wondered.

"A thrill," Tom whispered back. "Hopefully an honor." Again asking Flambo to translate, Tom Swift faced Fedzir Duurq and said, "Q’han of Highest Honor and Repute, may your fame shine as widely as the sun. I ask you to accept my humble gift in return."

The Q’han nodded gravely.

"I ask most respectfully that you appoint three who have earned your favor, those three most blessed with fierceness and courage, to permit me to carry them into the sky in my, er, special car. Naturally, you will go before them."

Q’han Fedzir clearly was delighted with Tom’s invitation. He pointed out three men, then immediately set off toward the
Silent Streak
.

"Be sure he understands—no weapon firing inside the passenger dome," Bud said to Tom with a chuckle.

The Chieftain commenced his flight stoically enough. But soon he was howling with glee as the car soared and hedgehopped and, at his gestured command, buzzed his entire horseman-army. Then the three warriors had similar rides, one by one.

Finally, back on the ground, Flambo said the Americans were free to depart. "You have been wise after all," he said to Tom. "Now this tribe is an ally and friend."

Darkness was falling. Tom radioed the
Sky Queen
and directed them to home in on their locator beacon. Then he spoke again to Nurhan Flambo.

"I would like to invite the three men the Q’han selected to travel with us in my airplane, and stay with us for a few days. They could really help us when we meet other locals, I think, and I know one of them speaks a little English."

"Yes. Ishad Rullza worked for an American as a young boy, in Islamabad." Flambo described the plan to Fedzir Duurq and the three men, and they readily consented.

"Tom, you’re a major diplomat," Bud whispered admiringly. "Where’d you get all that flowery language, though?"

"From an old movie!"

Awaiting the arrival of the Flying Lab, Tom decided to ask Flambo about the secret Assassins cult which Simon Wayne had mentioned.

Flambo’s voice dripped contempt. "Your cosmopolitan friend Wayne has his geography a trifle mixed up. The cult never centered here in Kabulistan. Their stronghold was the Rock of Alamut in the Elburz Mountains of northern Persia. The notion of some sort of revival here is merely another absurdity given instant credibility among outsiders."

Tom felt relieved. "Thanks," he said to Flambo as they shook hands. "You’ve not only saved our lives—you’ve also taken a load off my mind." He promised to discuss with Provard bringing Flambo’s Pan-Islamic Engineering Associates into the development project.

"I thank you. We shall see," he replied with a slight bow.

There was no room for the
Sky Queen
to land nearby, but Tom ferried the three guests to the skyship via several atomicar hops. The men were wide-eyed and clearly overwhelmed. But there was not a word of
aghashi
among them.

Slim Davis reluctantly reported a new mystery. "I’ve been trying for hours to radio the workers camp, but I can’t get anyone to answer," he stated.

"They were fine when we contacted them earlier," Tom noted. "It may just be a problem with their equipment."

"Right, Cuz," said Ed Longstreet. "I suppose you’re talking
in theory
."

The
Sky Queen
flew to the coordinates Tom had been given, a desert plain at the base of rugged foothills. A fading twilight and sky blooming brightly with stars justified Ed’s skepticism. "Good night, if there ever was a workcamp there, it’s sure gone now!" groaned Bud. "Not a sign of anything."

"Let’s go lower and use the searchlight," Tom directed.

The bright beam showed scuffy traces of a camp, but no tents, workers, or equipment. "Looks like they pulled up roots in a hurry," Chow commented. "Mebbe we kin use Injun skills t’ track ’em down."

"Not at night, pardner," pronounced the young inventor. He turned to Slim. "Set her down on the plain and we’ll spend the night. We’ll see what the sun has to show us tomorrow."

As twilight gave up the ghost, the plain in which the camp had been located soon cooled off from the day’s heat. A bracing breeze blew down from the mountain peaks. After having talked to Arvid Hanson in Shirabad, and to Asa Provard in the United States, Tom stood with the rest of his small crew next to the ship, enjoying the spice-scented air. He wondered if this would be his last moment of relaxation and quiet for some time to come.