Tom switched on his suit light to peer into the hold. It was empty! The bullion and the statue were gone!
“What’s the next move, Tom?” Bud asked wLen they were back aboard the Sea Hound.
“We’ll try to trail that sub.”
To Tom’s surprise, the plutonium traces led upward to the surface.
“Maybe they came topside to send a radio message,” Arv suggested.
GOLD CLUE 115
“Good guess,” Tom agreed. “Or if it was nighttime, they may have preferred to cruise on the surface awhile.”
The trail did continue on the surface-again southeastward. After a few miles the seacopter began to weave uncertainly.
“Tracker flipped its wig again?” Bud asked.
Tom frowned and shook his head. “No, the output scopes are still registering.
But the target-course lines have stopped.” On a hunch, Tom radioed the U. S.
Weather Bureau and learned that a severe storm had passed over the area two days before. “I’m afraid that’s our answer,” he told the others. “The storm dispersed the traces so much that the tracker no longer has a pattern to follow.”
Disappointed, Tom returned to Fearing. Then he and Bud flew back to Enterprises. Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames were astounded at Tom’s story.
“Millions in gold-and the Delian Apollo is priceless!” Ames exclaimed. “It’s the biggest pirating job that was ever pulled off I”
“And the most fiendishly clever,” Mr. Swift added.
“I’m sure now that the same men were responsible for sabotaging your hydrolungs,” Ames went on. “When your project was first announced, some news reports gave the exact course you’d navigate. These men must have figured you’d be passing too close to their guyot. That probably threw a scare into them.”