Again he bowed. “Most pleasurable to have met you both. My secretary will show you out.”
Moments later, the boys were back on the street. “What do you make of it, Tom?” Bud asked.
The young inventor shrugged thoughtfully. “At least we know our shadow was friendly-if we can trust what the old man said.” Suddenly, as he glanced around, Tom’s expression changed. “Bud, look! It’s gone!”
“What’s gone?”
“That sign!”
The brass plate on the door, bearing the name 66 THE ASTEROID PIRATES
trans-pacific import company, had been removed!
Bud gaped in astonishment. “Good night! The setup must have been phony.”
“Maybe phony isn’t quite the word, Bud.” Tom’s face took on a wry grin.
“Let’s say it was arranged for our benefit.”
“We hope!” Bud retorted, and hailed a taxi. As soon as they reached the heliport, Tom hurried to the nearest telephone booth and consulted a Manhattan directory.
No such firm as the Trans-Pacific Import Company was listed!
“I’d say phony was exactly the word!” Bud muttered.
Tom’s brow wrinkled, and he examined his crystal cobra cube. “Personally, Bud,” he said, “I think someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to help us. The import company was a blind for our rendezvous-and now that our unknown friends have handed over these cubes, they’re making sure no clues are left behind for the enemy.”
The boys flew back to Fearing Island. From his laboratory at the rocket base, Tom phoned a full report of the episode to Harlan Ames.
“You’re sure those cubes aren’t bugged like Sandy’s bracelet was?” Ames asked suspiciously.
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