“Where did they take it?” Raeburn asked.
Bristol shrugged. “No way we could see, sir. But we did hear boat whistles not too far off when they was unloading, so it might’ve been some water-72 AQUATOMIC TRACKER
front warehouse near the Thames. Sounded like dock noises all around.”
Afterward, the trucker related, the van had been driven away and parked. He and his mate were unable to loosen their bonds and had remained tied up inside until a police car found the van on Hampstead Heath.
Bud and the girls were sick with worry after hearing the story.
“Tom must have been knocked out or drugged before he was put into the crate,” Phyl theorized, trying to hold back her tears.
“The kidnappers may be planning to ship him out of the country!” Sandy choked back a sob. “Oh, if we only had some definite duel”
“Don’t worry, miss.” Inspector Raeburn gave her a fatherly pat. “Police and port authorities in Britain will help search for your brother. It won’t be easy to smuggle him out of here.”
The inspector began issuing orders. The telephone rang. One of Raeburn’s men answered.
“For you, Mr. Barclay.”
The caller was burly, genial Arvid Hanson, a gifted craftsman who helped Tom build the pilot models of many of his inventions. Arv announced he had flown the Sea Hound from Fearing to England and was ready for duty. He reported that after calling Tom’s hotel, he had been told to contact Bud at Scotland Yard.
“Tom’s missing, Arv.” Bud explained the situa-LONDON DRAGNET 73
tion hastily. “You and the crew stand by for now. We’ll keep you posted.” He hung up.
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