Sandra Swift, Tom’s blond, seventeen-year-old sister, was Bud’s favorite date. Her companion, a brunette with sparkling brown eyes, was Phyllis Newton, daughter of Ned Newton, who managed the Swift Construction Company.
“The gate guard told us things were a bit dark around here a while ago,”
Sandy teased.
Tom grinned good-naturedly. As the girls came into the room, they were all startled by a shrill, high-pitched squeal.
“Are you giving us the razzberry?” Bud asked the girls. His voice seemed to echo queerly.
ACCIDENTAL BLACKOUT 17
“No, it’s-it’s coming from my handbag!” Phyl said in astonishment. She took out a little transistor radio. “Oh! I left this turned on.”
Her voice, too, seemed to have an echo-and the echo was coming from the radio! It momentarily shut out the high-pitched squeal.
“Why, you’re broadcasting, Phyl!” Sandy laughed.
Tom had already figured out the mystery. “Do you realize what this means?”
he said, his eyes sweeping over the laboratory.
“What?” Bud asked, completely baffled.
“There’s a transmitter hidden in here!”
At that moment Sandy glanced out the window. Her blue eyes widened.
“Look!” she screamed.
CHAPTER III
THE BRONZE BUDDHA
A weird procession of prancing figures was approaching the laboratory building. The creatures had huge, fantastic heads and wore gaudy robes of red, gold, and black.
“They’re coming inside I” Phyl gasped.
Soon Tom, Sandy, Bud, and Phyl heard a thunderous pounding on the door.
Then it was thrown open and in surged the nightmarish group, playing bells, drums, and cymbals. The crazy din continued as the people capered about the room.
Suddenly Sandy giggled. “It’s a masquerade 1”
Some of the figures wore grinning, goggle-eyed demon masks, each topped with a ring of tiny skulls. Another had on a deer’s head with flowers blooming from its antlers. Two more were giant-headed buffoons-a white-faced woman and a blue-faced, mustachioed man.
At last the wild dance came to a halt and the
18
THE BRONZE BUDDHA 19
figures pulled off their masks. Tom and his companions applauded and cheered. The panting, laughing masqueraders were Prince Jahan and the other students from Vishnapurl
“Terrificl” Tom exclaimed as the dancers bowed.
“It’s the most exciting thing I’ve seen in ages,” Sandy declared.
“Then our humble efforts are more than repaid,” Jahan said gallantly.
“But what brought this on, if you don’t mind my asking?” Bud put in.
The young prince chuckled. “We were celebrating the Festival of Chogyal a bit early.”
The Americans looked interested, and Phyl asked, “Who or what is Chogyal?”
“The highest mountain peak in Vishnapur,” Jahan replied. “The name Chogyal means ‘king’ in the various Himalayan dialects, and the festival is held each year in honor of the gods and spirits of the mountain.”
Jahan explained that the homesick students had brought the costumes to America, since they would be far from Vishnapur when the festival was celebrated. “It is still more than two weeks away,” he added, “but we hoped that a small preview might cheer our young professor.”
“Besides,” said Rakshi with a grin, “is it not right that the spirits should honor a scientist who can even blot out the daylight?”
20 POLAR-RAY DYNASPHERE
Tom took the ribbing good-naturedly and asked what the masks portrayed.
The young Asians told him the deer represented a former incarnation of the lord Buddha. The chief demon, black-faced, was called Mahakali. He and his cohorts were made to look as horrible as possible to help the watchers overcome their fear of death.
“And the blue-faced man and white-faced clowns,” Prince Jahan added, “are really acharyas, or wise men, who keep the demons amused until the good spirits can defeat them.”
Sandy and Phyl were already acquainted with Prince Jahan, and Tom now introduced the other students. From their admiring glances, it was clear that the young engineers from Vishnapur found the two American girls very attractive.
Bud scowled as Rakshi conversed with Sandy.
“That long-haired creep!” Bud muttered to Tom. “What’s he trying to do-beat my time?”
Tom chuckled silently.
“Your country is almost a part of India,” Phyl remarked to Prince Jahan, “and yet those aren’t Hindu masks, are they?”
“Quite right, Miss Newton. The people of Vishnapur are a mixture. Many, like myself, are Hindus, while others, like my friend Gyong”- Jahan indicated a student with high cheekbones and Oriental features-“are of Tibetan stock. But all celebrate the Festival of Chogyal.”
THE BRONZE BUDDHA 21
Before leaving, Prince Jahan invited the four teen-agers to dinner at his apartment and promised that the meal would consist of native dishes from his Himalayan homeland.
“Sounds great,” said Tom. Bud and the girls also accepted enthusiastically.
After the students had left, Tom glanced around the room. “Now let’s find that bug.”
“You mean the hidden transmitter?” Sandy asked.
Tom nodded. “Lucky you left your set turned on, Phyl, especially at that frequency. Otherwise, I might never have found out this place was bugged.”
Phyl took out the radio again and gave it a puzzled look. “There’s no station at this point on the dial,” she murmured. “The knob must have twisted when I put the set in my bag.”
“No wonder, the way you gals keep your purses crammed!” Bud joked.
“Turn it on again, Phyl,” Tom said, “and walk around the lab. The change in volume of the signal may help us locate the transmitter.”
Before Phyl could do so, they were all startled by a muffled voice shouting: “Help! … Get me out of here!”
“Good grief!” Sandy exclaimed with a nervous giggle. “Don’t tell me you have a prisoner hidden around here, too, Tom!”
22 POLAR-RAY DYNASPHERE
The cries for help were repeated. The voice seemed to carry a hollow, tinny echo.
“It’s coming from the air-conditioning duct!” Bud said.
“Sounds like Chowl” Tom added, after putting his head close to the louvered outlet.
The boys dashed from the lab and down the hall toward the Swifts’ private galley. This was the one-man domain of Chow Winkler, who had been a chuck-wagon cook in Texas. Tom and his father had met him during an atomic research trip in the Southwest. The Swifts had persuaded Chow to become their personal chef at Enterprises and on trips.
The two boys slid to a halt near a janitor’s closet as they heard strange noises coming from inside. The door was locked, but Tom opened it with a master key and turned on the closet light. Bud burst into roars of laughter.
Chow’s lower half was protruding from an opening in the back wall of the closet. The fat cook was wriggling and kicking his feet furiously.
“For the love of Mike, Chow, what are you doing with your head in that air duct?” Tom exclaimed.
“Never mind the questions, boss! Jest get me out o’ this here bear trap afore I turn blue!”
Tom and Bud each took one leg, braced themselves against the closet wall, and began to yank. After much strenuous tugging, there was a floop!
24 POLAR-RAY DYNASPHERE
and Chow Winkler’s pudgy figure popped out of the duct opening. The sudden release sent Tom and Bud toppling backward. Tom slammed into some boxes of cleaning compound and Bud knocked loose a mop that was hanging on the wall. The mop flew up and crashed into a shelf laden with soap, pails, and floor wax.
Like a rackety avalanche, the shelf’s contents rained down. Chow landed on top of the two boys just in time for a pail to drop squarely over his head.
“Get off us, you blubberhead!” Bud stormed.
“Gimme a chance!” Chow retorted in a smothered voice. Pushed by the two boys, he struggled upright and finally pulled off the pail.
The cook was panting and beet red. His bald dome glistened with perspiration. Tom and Bud were unable to stifle their laughter, but the two girls, who had followed them to the scene, uttered soothing words.
“How did you ever get yourself into such a fix, Chow?” Tom asked.
The accident turned out to have been caused by Tom’s blackout. While groping in the dark, Chow had blundered into the closet and the door had slammed shut, locking automatically. Trapped, Chow had recalled seeing an inspection hole to the air duct in the back wall of the closet. He had hoped to squirm through the duct to an adjoining outlet, but in the attempt he had become stuck.
THE BRONZE BUDDHA 25
“I felt so blame foolish I kept tryin’ to wiggle loose by myself,” the Texan confessed, “but finally I jest had to call fer help.”
The teen-agers returned to the laboratory. By moving Phyl’s radio about and listening as the squeal grew louder or softer, Tom soon located the “bug.” The tiny transmitter, an inch square, had been clamped under a metal wall bracket which had served as its antenna.
“One of those students could have planted it during your demonstration,” Bud said. “This proves someone in the group is a spy! With this setup, he could tune in on any scientific secrets being discussed in your lab.”