But the stranger seemed to read his thoughts. As Tom started to turn off toward the main gate, his passenger snapped, “Go to the private gate which you and your father use!”
“And if I refuse?”
Again the hard object poked into his ribs. “You will be what you call in this country a dead duck!” the stranger warned. “I will then let myself in with your key!”
Tight-lipped, Tom drove on another half mile, then turned in at the private gate. The man got out with him as Tom walked up to the gate and beamed his electronic key at the hidden mechanism. Instantly the gate swung open, then closed again automatically after the car passed through.
Tom parked in his usual spot. The stranger kept his hand in his pocket, still covering Tom but glancing around cautiously. The sprawling experimental station was a vast four-mile-square area with a cluster of gleaming modern laboratory buildings and workshops. In the distance, a tall 20 THE VISITOR FROM PLANET X
glassed-in control tower overlooked Enterprises’ long runways for jet planes.
Suddenly the stranger stiffened. A paunchy, bowlegged figure, topped by a white Texas sombrero, was coming straight toward them.
Tom’s heart gave a leap of hope. The man was Chow Winkler, formerly a chuck-wagon cook and now head chef for the Swifts’ expeditions.
“Hi, boss!” Chow bellowed in his foghorn voice. As usual he was wearing a gaudy cowboy shirt. “Who’s the new buckaroo?” the cook added, squinting at the stranger with open but friendly curiosity.
“Why-actually I don’t know his name yet, but he’s looking for a job,” Tom replied. Turning to the stranger, he added, “What is your name, mister?”