Would the repelatron’s force rays have enough power at such range?
“It’s only a small portable model,” Torn reflected.
He pressed the frame against the dome, aimed the repelatron, and put his thumb on the trigger. An instant later he whooped with satisfaction.
“I’ve nailed ‘em!” Tom exclaimed triumphantly.
The figures of the two hijackers seemed to have frozen almost immobile in their tracks! Tom could sense their frantic efforts as they writhed and twisted helplessly-struggling against the invisible force which kept them pinned down.
“Only one problem,” Tom thought, sobering quickly. “The truck driver is as helpless as the two crooks! He can’t capture them!”
“Boss! Boss! Where in tarnation are you?”
“Chow!” Tom cried gratefully as he heard the
144 MEGASCOPE SPACE PROBER
clatter of the Westerner’s cowboy boots racing up the stairs.
“Here, Chow! On the balcony!” Tom yelled.
The Texan came dashing out in response, then stopped short in amazement.
“B-b-brand my buffalo stew, what’s wrong?” he stuttered.
“Hijackers!” Tom snapped, pointing toward the highway. “Here! Take this repelatron and keep it aimed at them while I phone Security!”
Chow took in the situation quickly as Tom handed him the repulsion-ray device. Then the young inventor ran back into the observatory, snatched up the receiver of the wall phone, and called for assistance.
Phil Radnor, at the other end of the line, said Ames and two security guards were already speeding to the observatory in a jeep in response to Tom’s alarm signal.
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