34 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
Ten minutes later the sleek seacopter, its searchlight off to avoid detection, was plummeting downward through water that changed before their eyes from greenish blue to a deep-gray gloom. Iridescent fish darted past the cabin window.
“Think the enemy sub was searching for our Jupiter prober?” Hank asked.
“It must have been,” Tom reasoned.
Hank frowned. “Which means they must have figured out the missile’s position as fast as our side did.”
“And they’ll play rough to stop us from finding it,” Arv added forebodingly.
Within moments, the group clustered in the pilot’s cabin felt a gentle bump as the Sea Hound settled on the submerged plateau. Tom relaxed at the controls but kept the rotors going so the craft would remain submerged. Meanwhile, the sonarman was probing the surrounding waters.
“Any pings?” Tom asked.
The man shook his head without taking his eyes from the sonarscope.
“Nothing yet.”
Hank Sterling donned a hydrophone headset and listened intently. The silence deepened in the Sea Hound’s cabin. Suddenly Hank stiffened and the sonarman cried out:
“A blip, skipper! At two o’clock!”
It was moving rapidly on the scope-something streaking toward their starboard beam!
INVISIBLE SUB 35
“Good night! It’s another missile!” Tom gasped.
He darted back to the controls and gunned the reverse jets just in time! The missile flashed across their bow.
“Great bellowin’ longhorns!” Chow gasped weakly. His leathery face had gone pale under its tan. “The yellow-livered drygulchers!”