Appleton, Victor – Tom Swift Jr 19 – And His Triphibian Atomicar

130 TRIPHIBIAN ATOMICAR

Ed’s cab was just disappearing down a street that led off from the square. At Ames’s command, their driver sped away in pursuit.

By this time the sun had disappeared behind the city rooftops in a red glow.

The cab ahead plunged into a heavy stream of traffic coursing down a broad avenue. As they followed, Tom caught passing glimpses of imposing government buildings, shops, a gorgeously domed mosque, and several tall, modernistic apartment buildings.

Leaving the center of the city behind, Ed’s taxi entered a poorer section-an area of narrow, twisting streets and squalid, mud-brick buildings.

The deepening darkness helped to make the pursuit less noticeable.

Presently the car ahead stopped, and Ames told their own driver to pull over.

Ed and the jeweler got out, paid their driver, and entered a drab, whitewashed building. Minutes passed, then half an hour, as Tom, Bud, and Ames waited anxiously. When an hour had gone by, the watchers became alarmed.

“We’ve waited long enough!” Tom said. “Let’s investigate!”

The street was in a residential neighborhood, and the building into which Ed and the jeweler had gone seemed to be a beehive of separate living apartments.

The three Americans knocked on several doors and tried to ask questions. But the

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occupants-swarthy men, and women with broods of ragged children-merely looked blank.

“It’s hopeless. They don’t understand English,” Tom said tersely. “We’ll have to call the police.”

Ames and Bud remained on watch while Tom taxied to the nearest police station. Much time was wasted as he explained to the mustachioed official, Inspector Hassan, what had happened. Finally a police car was dispatched to the scene. The lawmen questioned numerous occupants of the building, but could learn nothing.