“Good enough! We have it practically pinpointed!” Tom exclaimed, as he ruled the last bearing line on the chart.
All were surprised by the position of the fix-a point almost on the seacoast, about one hundred and seventy miles southeast of Shopton.
112 TRIPHIBIAN ATOMICAR
Tom announced he would take off at once for the spot, in spite of Harlan Ames’s worried words of caution.
“The longer we wait, the more time our enemy will have to figure out the construction of my atomic power plant,” Tom pointed out. “Besides, we have only about an hour of daylight left.”
Tom decided that if he ran into trouble while scouting, he would radio for reinforcements at once. Moments later, he and Bud took off in a helijet. Both boys were tense and excited as they streaked southeastward through the sky.
“That must be it,” Tom muttered presently.
Just ahead, between a coastal highway and a sandy stretch of open beach, lay a large barnlike building. Tom hovered in low.
“Think we should land?” Bud asked.
A split second later the barn exploded in a shattering blast that threw the helijet about like a toy!
CHAPTER XII
RADIOACTIVE!
THE terrific concussion stunned both boys, like a blow from a club. Bud blacked out as the helijet spun through the air. Tom, clinging to the controls, struggled to maintain a glimmer of consciousness.
Somehow, Tom brought the craft under partial control and managed to land it safely on the beach. But the strain proved too much for his dazed senses. The helijet’s wheels had barely touched the sand when he felt consciousness slipping away.