Tom frowned. “The saboteur wanted to make sure we got far out to sea before the gear conked out.”
“But who could have done it?” Bud objected. “We checked out the suits ourselves-and they were final-inspected yesterday morning. When could anyone have tampered with them? Either it was an inside job, or else the saboteur was one of the newsmen at the press conference.”
18 AQUATOMIC TRACKER
“Right,” Ames agreed. “They were the only strangers on the island yesterday.”
Chow suddenly began to stutter and shake.
“Hey, watch it, cowboy!” Bud exclaimed. “You’re buttering your own hand instead of that extra toast!”
“B-b-brand my skillet, Tom, I know who monkeyed with your divin’ gear!”
Chow blurted out.
The other three stared at him.
“Who was it?” Tom asked.
“One o’ them reporters. I was clearin’ away the dishes from that meal you an’
Bud ate yesterday mornin’, but I had to go fetch some detergent from the commissary. Like a blame fool I left the lab unlocked, an’ when I came back, I caught this varmint jest walkin’ out.”
“You’re sure he was a reporter?” Ames put in.
Chow tilted his chef’s hat and scratched his balding dome. “Well, he was wearin’ a visitor’s badge. I lit into him, an’ he acted real sorry. Said this was his first big story an’ he was jest tryin’ to impress his boss with some dope on the lab where Tom Swift works on his newfangled inventions. An’ he begged me not to get him in trouble or he might be fired.”
“So you fell for it!” Bud snorted.
Chow’s Adam’s apple bobbed miserably.
“What did he look like?” Tom asked.