Bud chuckled. “When you put it that way, it sure does sound crazy! How’s Hank making out?”
“Going great guns-no problems at all. I talked to him on the radio this afternoon.”
Bud chewed thoughtfully on a piece of beef. “When that dinosaur story broke, you suspected Macklin for a while, didn’t you?”
“Seemed logical, since he was the only one I had told,” Tom said. “Why?”
“Well, all our troubles are happening at this end of the highway-none at the eastern end. Doesn’t that clear Macklin, or any of those political troublemakers in East Ngombia?”
TERRIFYING TRACKS T41
Tom shook his head gloomily. “They might just be trying to divert suspicion,” he reasoned.
When the meal was over, Tom sat brooding in the firelight. His skyway would be of little value to the people of Ngombia if it were in constant danger of being wrecked by saboteurs or animals. Even the rank-growing jungle vegetation posed a threat, Tom realized, since it might eventually foul the transmitters.
“Bud, there’s only one solution. I’ll have to add a new feature to the skyway transmitters.”
“Such as?”
“A special repelatron tuned to repel animals or plant life. That way, nothing can get close enough to the transmitters to wreck them.”
That evening Tom air-hopped to Imbolu by atomicar. There he radioed Enterprises, using the Queen’s powerful transmitter, and asked for his father. Tom explained his problem and asked Tom Sr.‘s help in adding the protective equipment to all future transmitters shipped from the plant.
“I’ll get at it tonight, son,” Mr. Swift promised. “And I’ll have Uncle Ned start a production run on small units that you can add to the transmitters you’ve already installed.”