Bud was about to retort when Tom stopped him. “If you’ve heard about our project, Mr. Flambo,” Tom said calmly, “then you know we were invited here by the Shah. Come on, fellows!”
Outside the palace, Bud said hotly, “Ten to one he was the sneak who gave the colonel that phony tip about our being spies!” Hank and the others were inclined to agree, but Tom refused to jump to conclusions.
Tom hailed a rickety taxi and the group returned to the airport long enough for Chow to serve them a dinner of steak and French fried potatoes aboard the Sky Queen. Then Tom, Bud, and Arv Hanson sauntered out to explore the town, leaving Hank, Slim, and the Texan to guard the plane.
94 TRIPHIBIAN ATOMICAR
Shirabad was a strange jumble of the old and new. Ancient mosques and houses of sun-baked mud or brick stood within sight of modern three-story buildings. Many of the streets were unpaved, yet flashy-looking automobiles sped past donkey carts and bearded camel drivers.
“Quite a contrast!” Arv remarked.
Veiled women and fierce-faced men in turbans and baggy trousers rubbed shoulders with hurrying Europeans in well-cut business suits.
“Provard and his partners must have beat out a lot of competition to land this deal with the Shah,” Bud remarked.
Tom said thoughtfully, “I guess that’s why Flambo was so sore.”
The bazaar, which was the local market place, was a dirt-floored arcade, covered over by an arching brick roof. Tom and his two companions strolled inside. The narrow lane was lined with booths and stalls where craftsmen and merchants displayed their wares.
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