“Shucks, I knew all along Tom’s contraption would do the trick!” Chow boasted, glowing with pride over his young boss’s achievement.
Tom could only smile happily. “Guess we can go home now,” he said to Bud and Chow.
They were preparing to leave when another flash from Washington came over the radiotelephone. A ship’s captain, five hundred miles out on the Pacific, had just reported sighting a great waterspout, accompanied by considerable wave turbulence.
“It could have been the spot where the enemy
EARTHQUAKE ISLAND 157
shock waves and our deflector waves met and damped out,” Tom commented.
“Dr. Miles thinks so, too,” the caller said.
Soon the sleek Swift jet was arrowing back across the continent. En route, Tom radioed word of his latest triumph to Mr. Swift. As always, he used the automatic scramblers to make sure any enemy eavesdroppers would pick up only static.
“Great work, son!” Mr. Swift congratulated Tom. “I was confident you could handle the situation with your Quakelizors.”
“Thanks, Dad. See you soon.”
When the jet finally landed at Enterprises and came to a halt on the runway, the control tower operator spoke over the radio.
“Harlan Ames would like to see Tom Jr. at the security building. He left word just a few minutes ago.”
“Roger!” Tom replied.
Chow frugally carted off his leftover supplies. Tom and Bud, meanwhile, went by jeep across the plant grounds to security headquarters.
Ames greeted the two boys enthusiastically. “Nice going on that earthquake situation, Tom!” he said. “And now I have some more good news. We’ve just nabbed the man who imitated your father’s voice over the phone the other night.”