“Yes,” Roberts replied. “We saved the wood to burn. It was our only hope.
We’ve been sending signals from a tiny crevice in the cave for two weeks off and on. Thank goodness you saw them.”
“You’ve been prisoners here for two weeks?” Tom asked, looking at the dank interior of their prison.
“Yes. Our captors moved us around from one place to another, at first, and then brought us here. This is actually a century-old prison.”
“Who were they? Do you know their names?”
“Oh, yes. One is Pedro Canova”
“Canova, eh? I had a bad time with him myself.”
“And another’s named Fritz Manuel.”
“Manuel! We caught him onceunder another
188 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
namebut he got away.” Then Tom questioned, “Who is their leader?
Apparently they’re only stooges for a higher-upsomeone of a different nationality, perhaps.”
Roberts could not answer that question. He had only heard Fritz Manuel and Canova talk vaguely of the “boss,” without learning who he was. Never had they used an actual name.
“I do know one thing, though,” Roberts said. “This gang has a member who also belongs to Hemispak. I’ve heard Canova talk about how they learned of your plans through the information the traitorous member supplied.”
Tom realized now that this mysterious person was probably the one who had intercepted the Bapcho police and engineered the attempts to harm Tom’s party and ruin his Flying Lab. He wondered who it possibly could be. Each member had to prove his skill as a scientist before being admitted to the group. Who was the traitor?
“What were Canova and Manuel planning to do with you and the others, John?”
“They were going to make us work out some tests with uraniumbut not until they had disposed of you and your party. You came into the picture rather unexpectedly and upset their well-laid plans.”
Tom nodded, more eager than ever to outwit his enemies. As soon as the men had finished eating, he asked if they felt strong enough to leave. They assented, anxious to gain their freedom.
With Tom flashing the light, they started off. Halfway to the main gate Tom heard a shrill whistle.
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189
As quickly as he could run in the confines of the passageway, Tom hurried toward the gate. When he arrived, his worst fears were realized. There was a chain and padlock linked around the gatea padlock for which Tom instinctively knew he did not have a key!
Outside, in the dim light of the fire, there was no sign of either the trussed-up guard or of Bud!
CHAPTER XXIV
CHOW’S DILEMMA
“F-L CALLING! Ten-fourteen calling! Come in!”
Hanson sat before the short-wave set with Chow lounging near by.
“How many times kin you say that an’ not lose your voice?” the cook asked.
“It’s jest about five hundred now.”
The engineer gave him a wan smile. “When you’re fighting an enemy as dangerous as the rebels, Chow, you don’t give up,” he said. “How about you trying it for a while?”
They changed places and the Texan began the monotonous job of trying to raise some radio ham far away. Since nothing had seemed to come of Tom’s endeavor, Hanson had decided to try the old-fashioned method.
“Let’s see,” said Chow. “F-L is for Flying Lab. Ten-fourteen’s our ship’s number. How about my trying S-Q for Sky Queen? And mebbe TOM-S?”
190
CHOW’S DILEMMA 191
“No, not TOM-S. That’s too obvious,” Hanson objected.
“Those boys have been gone a powerful long time. I sure hope they ain’t in trouble,” Chow said.
Hanson also was beginning to worry. If the boys should fail to return and he could make no contact with the outside, what should he do? Investigate the source of the smoke signals, or take a chance on flying the big plane to the nearest city for help?
“F-L cook calling,” the chef said, by way of changing the routine. “Chow on the line. Over.”
Despite his worries Hanson smiled. But a moment later the smile changed to a look of utter disbelief. Chow had just switched to the incoming beam when a voice said clearly and distinctly:
“Rip Hulse calling Chow. Got your boss’s message.”
“Well, brand my ole flyin’ suit!” the cook yelled, so thunderstruck he failed to flick the switch. Hanson jumped forward to do it.
“Rip Hulse, come in,” he said. “Chow and friends on F-L. Where are you?”
“Com Cincpac 1280,” was the quick reply.
Chow looked blank but Hanson, a former Navy man, explained that this phrase indicated the ace flier was in the Pacific not many miles west of Lima.
“Come in! Come here! Help!” Chow shouted excited. “The Inj”
Hanson held up a warning finger. It would be foolhardy to give their position away to the enemy.
“Rip knows we were coming to Verano,” the engineer whispered.
192 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
“S O S!” he cried into the speaker.
“Meet you in the morning,” Rip promised. “By”
Static interference cut off the conversation. Chow and Hanson wondered if it were weather conditions or the rebels jamming their wave length.
“Anyway, we got through,” Chow gloated. “When Tom Swift comes awalkin’ in here”
“Tom Swift will not walk in here,” said an icy , voice behind the men.
They wheeled to face a dark-complexioned stranger with high cheekbones.
He had piercing eyes and a sneering smile. Behind him stood several Indians.
At a wave of his hand all but one retreated outside. Hanson and Chow knew they were prisoners but put up a bold front.
“Wh-who are you? What do you want? How’d you get here?” Chow burst out.
“Never mind who I am.” There was the faintest trace of an Oriental accent in the man’s speech. He laughed softly. “I might not have seen your plane, but my Indian friendsthey are good watchmen and they know all the trails in this canyon. Just behave, and you will remain alive.”
“What did you mean that Tom Swift won’t return?” Hanson asked him.
“The great young manI have just heard by short waveis my prisoner. And his famous father he is in our hands too.”
“Where’s Bud Barclay?”
“I do not know. My friendsthey took him away.” A cunning gleam came into the tormentor’s
CHOW’S DILEMMA 193
eyes. “He will make a very good pilot for us, is that not so?”
“Why, you!”
Chow sprang forward to throttle the stranger, but he suddenly whistled and several of the Indians appeared. The cook halted.
“You see you are my prisoners also,” the evil-faced man cried. “But I am a person of patience. You will have a chance to be free on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Chow asked.
The stranger deliberately took his time before answering. He lighted a cigarette and paced up and down for a few moments. Finally he said: “First, I will tell you a little about myself. I am a Eurasian by birth.”
Eurasian! Hanson and Chow instantly thought of Leeskol, the Eurasian whom Rip Hulse had captured. Had the two been in league?
The man continued, “By choice I serve Europe or Asia, whichever suits my purpose best.”
“You mean you ain’t got a country you stick to?” Chow burst out.
“Is that so very necessary?” the man asked sauvely, a sardonic smile playing over his face.
“It sure is!” Chow cried. “Why, you low-down”
Hanson grabbed the furious cook’s arm. “Better let this fellow do the talking,”
he advised wisely.
The man nodded. He seemed unruffled by Chow’s patriotic outburst. After going to one of his companions and whispering something, he returned and faced his two captives.
Hanson kept his eye on the Indians. The engineer 194 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
had decided that if the natives left the plane he would take a chance on jumping the Eurasian and gaining control of the situation.
“To continue,” the stranger said, “it suits my purpose now to take the ore from these mountains to a certain power across the Atlantic. These rebels in Veranothey are stupid. I use them but not for long. I will need more engineersand a good cook.”
“Don’t look at me!” Chow cried out. “I ain’t joinin’ up with a bunch o’ blasted rebels or Eurasian double-crossers!”
The Eurasian blinked and for the first time appeared to be angry. But he paid no attention to the cook’s accusations. Instead, he said: “You two look like smart fellows. Why do you bother with these Swifts, these Yankees?”
“What do you meanthey’re our friends!” Hanson exclaimed.
“That is true, but only while they can get something out of you. Join my forces and you will be rich.”
Suddenly Hanson had an idea. Escape for him and Chow could be brought about only by keeping this man and his escorts at the Flying Lab until Rip Hulse and the police arrived. The engineer decided to try a delaying action
playing along with him. Before he could speak, Chow cried out: “What’s the good o’ bein’ rich if you ain’t got friends? No, sir, I’d never go back on the Swifts or the U.S. or lil ole Texas. Not for all the joo-ranium in the world!”