“It wouldn’t have done us much good-with that nut right on our tail,” Tom pointed out with a rueful grin. “And after we shook him, I thought it was wiser to keep radio silence.”
Ames nodded, frowning. “I guess you have a point there. Any clues to the plane’s identity?”
“None at all-except that we think he was after my atomic capsule.” Tom said.
“Too bad the technical journals published those advance reports on it! No doubt an inquiry would be hopeless, Harlan, but how about checking with the Air Force and the CAA?”
The security chief promised to do so. He added that the police still had no leads on the gold-toothed stranger responsible for the airport bomb scare.
Tom went back to his laboratory and called Arvid Hanson, the hulking six-footer who crafted all the scale models of the Swift inventions.
“What’s up, skipper?” Arv asked.
“I want a new body shell made for my atomicar.” He showed him Ort Throme’s sketch.
Arv’s eyes widened in admiration. “Some dreamboat! This is going to be fun.
How soon do you want it, Tom?”
“As fast as you and the sheet-metal shop can deliver the goods.”
Arv considered a moment. “No blueprints, eh?
TOM TAKES A DARE 75
Well, give us forty-eight hours if you want a real slick paint job.”
“Good enough,” Tom said. “We’ll mount it over the week end, and I’ll set up a press conference and demonstration for Monday morning!”
As soon as Arv left the laboratory, Tom plunged into a flurry of activity. Press releases had to be prepared, invitations sent to all wire services and automotive editors, and a test track laid out, with a viewing stand for the spectators.