Tom taxied back to the hotel. Later, the switchboard operator rang to inform him that Admiral Hopkins was on the line.
“Tom, you’ve heard about the sinking of the S.S. Centurion, of course,” the admiral began.
“I certainly have, sir. It was shocking.”
“The gold bullion carried by that ship amounted to fifteen million dollars,”
Hopkins went on. “And that world-famous Delian Apollo was considered a national art treasure. The country which owns it is very much upset over the statue’s loss. So the Navy was asked to undertake a deep-sea salvage job on the Centurion, rather than leave it up to the shipping line.”
“What’s the picture so far, sir?” Tom asked.
“Our subs have been sounding for the wreck the past five days, but haven’t located it.”
“Perhaps Swift Enterprises could help, with our seacopters and Fat Man suits,” Tom offered. The latter were one-man, mobile diving units, shaped like steel eggs with robot limbs, capable of operating under the greatest ocean pressure.
“I was hoping you’d say that, Tom,” Admiral Hopkins said gratefully. “The Navy Department is convinced that your advanced undersea craft is the only equipment for the job.”
A TRANSATLANTIC CALL 65
“The Sea Hound is due at London Airport this afternoon,” Tom told him. “I can take off as soon as she arrives.”
After noting down the position at which the Centurion sank, Tom hung up. He decided to turn on his two-way pencil radio in order to get a message from the Sea Hound as soon as it arrived. Then he called a London trucking firm and arranged to have the crated wax figure taken to the airport for shipment home.