“I doubt if the Orb life is that all-knowing,” Tom said, “but we’ll take no chances.” He swung to Ames and Norris. “We’ll need state troopers or federal agents to make the arrests. Harlan, will you drive to the State Police post and get all the men Captain Rock can spare? Wes, please get hold of any other FBI agents. And I think I can round up enough volunteers at Enterprises for the foot-slogging work. Now, here’s my plan.”
A short time later a dozen atomicars loaded with men began jetting off from Enterprises. They landed on the highway some distance from the dirt road which wound upward to the sanatorium. The men piled out and began fanning up the mountain on foot through the pine woods.
Two hours went by. Tom and Bud sat tensely at the controls of the Sky Queen on the Enterprises
148 3-D TELEJECTOR
airfield. Presently a beep sounded over the radio. Later came another, then another.
At the twelfth beep Bud turned to Tom. “They’re all in position, skipper!”
Tom flicked on a red signal light to alert the troopers and FBI men waiting aft in the plane’s lounge. “Here goes, pal!”
The huge craft zoomed aloft and streaked toward its target at supersonic speed. Tom slowed sharply as they approached the gang’s mountain aerie, then sent the Queen swooping down like a giant bird of prey.
A whitish mist was billowing up over the area. Then, suddenly, a ring of fiery flares encircled the walled grounds of the sanatorium. Tom switched on the giant searchlight his father had invented. Its ultrapowerful rays stabbed through the foggy vapor as the Flying Lab hovered down on its jet lifters.
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