“I take it the message was a translation of the code symbols only,” Tom put in. “How about the drawing of the drowning Roman soldier?”
“It has us baffled,” the CIA man admitted.
Tom rubbed his blond crew cut thoughtfully. After a moment he said, “Well, no sense worrying about it. Thanks for telling us, John. Let’s go, Bud!”
6 AQUATOMIC TRACKER
“Hold on, Tom!” Ames protested. “You’re not going through with your trip after this warning?”
“Why not?” the lanky young inventor retorted.
“Too risky, skipperl Some enemy may be planning to attack you and Bud en routel”
Tom shrugged. “The message may not have been meant for us-besides, we can’t back out now. This experiment is important.” He turned to Bud. “What do you say?”
“Ditto.” The muscular, dark-haired young Californian, who was also Tom’s air and space copilot, grinned cockily. “Come on!”
Ames flung up his arms in despair.
“That’s what I expected.” Thurston smiled. “At least watch your step, Tom.
Good luck!”
“Thanks, John. And we’ll keep our eyes open for any old Romans down in Davy Jones’s locker!”
As soon as the Washington telecaster had signed off, the boys hurriedly changed into their hydrolung suits of rubberlike black plastic. Molded into each suit was an electronic device which extracted oxygen from the water for breathing, and a density-control unit for rising or sinking to any depth at will. At the back was a slender metal cylinder-the ion-drive jet, capable of propelling the submerged wearer at high speeds.
On his left wrist, each boy wore one of Tom’s miniaturized “porpoise”