Hanson grabbed the binoculars and trained them on the birds. “They’re not crows!” he reported. “Real or mechanical. They’re vultures!”
They all breathed easier and Tom reversed his order to the drivers ahead of him.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see vultures,” he said with a wry smile. “I still have hopes that they’ll believe the false facts I dictated and start looking for us down in Louisiana.”
112 TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT ROBOT
“Are you sure they got that message?” Hank asked.
“We can only hope Marco mails that one too,” Tom said. “By the way, Rad is out at Blackstone Hospital checking on all patients and workers with whom Marco might have been friendly.”
Hank gave a start. “You think some mental case might be mixed up in this deal?”
“Could be,” said Tom.
As the line of vehicles drew closer to the Citadel, Tom and the others became aware of its immense size. Though they were still a mile away, the buildings loomed up like a vast fortress.
At last they reached the outer barbed-wire electrified fence surrounding the entire installation. Tom stopped before a wide gate where a guard’s shack stood.
The other trucks rolled to a stop, one behind another.
A uniformed member of the security police approached Tom’s truck. “This the Swift party?” he inquired, glancing in the cab.
“That’s right,” replied Tom, pleased to note that security measures were being enforced. “Here are our passes. I’m Tom Swift. This is Mr. Sterling and Mr.
Hanson.”
The uniformed guard took the passes, examined them, and said Tom and Hank might enter. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we can’t admit you, Mr. Hanson.”