The frogmen were handcuffed with cool efficiency and bundled into the jeep.
Meanwhile, the sergeant turned back to Bud and Mel.
“You fellows come along too,” he ordered.
“But we haven’t got time,” Bud protested. “Our own sub’s waiting right offshore and we
ENEMY FROGMEN 125
want to tail the sub that brought those guys here! We’re from the Swift rocket base.”
“Any identification?” the sergeant asked.
“How could we have in this getup?” Mel retorted.
“That’s what I thought. So get moving,” the sergeant barked.
Reluctantly, Bud and Mel hopped onto the running board and clung to the bouncing jeep as it sped to the nearby town of Sandbank. At headquarters they were questioned by the local police chief.
“If you’ll call Swift Enterprises at Shopton, sir, Mr. Swift-or Harlan Ames of the plant security department-will vouch for us,” Bud said.
The chief picked up the telephone and soon had Mr. Swift on the line. After speaking to him briefly, he passed the phone to Bud so the scientist could identify his voice.
“That’s Bud Barclay, all right. He’s one of our most trusted employees,” Mr.
Swift told the chief after hearing Bud’s story.
The officer promised to release Mel and Bud at once. Before doing so, however, he took them into the adjoining office where the two frogmen were being questioned.
“Any luck?” the chief asked the sergeant.
Sergeant Gryce shook his head in disgust. “Not much. They did admit they came in a sub, but they claim it didn’t wait to pick them up.”
126 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
The police chief shot a few questions of his own at the men, but they answered either in curt monosyllables or not at all.