“We’ll put the night shift on full blast and have this gizmo assembled by tomorrow,” Arv promised. “What’s next on the program?”
Tom ran the fingers of one hand through his bristling crew cut. “I have an idea for a special kind of radio I’d like to play around with,” he said. “But first I’m going to take time out to do a little detective work.”
Both Hank and Arv had heard of the attempts on Tom’s life. Hank frowned in concern. “Watch yourself, skipper. Whoever’s behind that strong-arm stuff may be playing for keeps.”
SPECTRAL FIREWORKS 47
“Sure looks that way,” Tom agreed. “But don’t worry-I’ll be taking Harlan Ames and a couple of security boys with me.”
Half an hour later, at the wheel of an Enterprises jeep, Tom pulled up along the wood-fringed roadside where his sports car had mysteriously overturned.
Ames, together with his stocky, barrel-chested assistant, Phil Radnor, and Pete Harris, another security man, were with Tom.
“We’ll comb this whole patch of woods,” Tom said. “That ray gunner, or whatever he was, must have come here in a car or some other kind of vehicle.
He may have circled back to the road where it was parked. Even without his boot marks, we might be able to reconstruct his movements and pick up a clue.”
The security men nodded as they started off, spreading out in order to cover as wide an area as possible.
In a few moments they reached the marshy area where the footprints had been seen. By now they had almost disappeared, but Tom knew that the police had made plaster casts to preserve the size and sole markings.
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