“Look, if you’re really stuck, I can sketch the stuff out for you,” Tom offered.
“No, don’t bother-you’re up to your neck as it is,” Hank said glumly. “We can take the details and dimensions from the pilot model Arv rigged. But it’ll sure slow us down.”
“That is a tough break. I’m sorry, Hank.”
Tom worked until six o’clock, then broke off to go home to dinner. As he was leaving the table, the telephone rang. Tom answered it.
“Remember that letter telling you to lay off your 3-D TV project?” said a muffled voice.
Tom was instantly alert. “What about it?” he said, waving frantically to draw Sandy’s eye.
The unknown caller seemed to read Tom’s mind. “Don’t bother tracing this number,” he said. “I’m calling from a booth far from Shopton and I’ll be gone before anyone can get here.”
“All right, I get the picture,” Tom gritted.
“That dud bomb was just to show you I’m not kidding,” the man went on.
“Next time you won’t get off so easy-if there is a next time.”
“Meaning what?”
1
112 3-D TELEJECTOR
“I’m hoping you’ve wised up enough to drop-your television project.”
“Why should I give up such a gold mine?” Tom stalled, hoping to draw his caller out.
“Don’t worry-you’ll be well paid for the time you’ve put into it,” the stranger said. “Or, if you don’t want to sell, how about a deal to hold your set off the market for five years?”
Tom pretended to consider. “Let’s say I’m willing to talk about it.”
The caller rose to the bait. He suggested a meeting at ten o’clock that night.
After naming a wild, desolate spot, he told Tom to fly over it and watch for a light flashing. “But no trickery, Swift-or you’ll regret itl”
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