At home that evening, after giving his father a quick report on the day’s events, Tom ate a late meal by himself. The rest of the family had finished dinner some time earlier.
Rather than sit alone in the dining room, Tom preferred to eat in the big, cheerful kitchen of the Swift residence. As his dainty, attractive mother served the food she had been keeping warm on the gleaming white kitchen range, his seventeen-year-old sister Sandra plied him with questions about the day’s events.
“Does this mean your earth blaster is ruined?” the blond, blue-eyed girl inquired anxiously.
“No, but it will hold us up a bit,” said Tom. “It’ll take at least a week to build a new activator and get our working model back in operation.”
As he went on to explain the details, Mrs. Swift smiled at her son proudly.
Even though most of the time she did not understand the technical aspects of Tom’s and his father’s work, she always listened attentively when they talked about it.
After supper Tom rejoined his father. Mr. Swift ATOMIC SPY 21
was seated in his comfortable private den, a large room on the first floor of the house, which opened onto a terrace through French doors.
“Any word yet from Ames about that atomic spy?” Tom asked.
“Not yet. But the State Police and the Coast Guard have joined in the search, so it should be only a matter of time.”
“I sure would like to find out why that fellow Bronich wants the earth blaster!”
Tom went on.
As Mr. Swift discussed the matter with his son, his thoughts went back to some of the hair-raising adventures he had gone through in connection with his own youthful inventions.