Still Tom was not completely convinced. There
THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR 115
was too much at stake to risk falling victim to a clever impostor. “What’s today’s password?” he demanded.
“Cherry tree,” the man answered promptly. He paused a moment, then added, “Mine needs pruning.”
Tom let out a faint sigh of relief. A spy might have ferreted out the Swifts’
current password, but only Josef Warturo would have known enough to identify himself with the extra remark.
“Okay,” Tom murmured, releasing the other from his wiry grip. “Sorry if I handled you a bit roughly.”
Warturo heaved himself up on one elbow and mopped his forehead. “I don’t blame you,” he muttered. “In this game, it doesn’t pay to take chances!”
“Any new developments?” Tom asked.
“Plenty,” Warturo replied. “The Brungarians are planning to make a big propaganda coup by capturing the rocket and bringing it to their country.
Naturally they’re not concerned with helping your space friends.”
“I figured as much,” Tom gritted.
“After they get all the pictures and data they want,” Warturo went on, “they won’t bother finding any cure for the diseased animals. But listen to this. They’re planning to use the disease germs for experiments in their germ warfare program!”
Tom’s throat tightened as he realized the deadly weapon this might prove to be in an ene-116
THE RACE TO THE MOON
my’s hands. “Do you know what their experiments will be, or how they expect to use the germs?”
Warturo shook his head. “Not yet. So far that’s all I’ve been able to find out.”
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