Queen, Swift control."
"Tom, an Admiral Krevitt is asking to be patched through to you."
"Go ahead," said Tom.
The Admiral came on line, relayed from ONDAR headquarters in Washington DC, which the Sky Queen was now approaching in its southward flight. "Tom, we’ve come up with some significant information on this person Chilcote. Dr. Herman Chilcote was a British national who worked on a joint British-American defense project in the early 80’s. After three years, he plain disappeared without a trace one day! Not a sign of him since."
"What was the nature of the project?" Tom asked.
"Do you recall my mentioning that the government had once worked on blackout technology? Well, this project was what I had in mind. Stimulation of the brain centers from a distance by phased electromagnetic pulses! But they could never make it work, and in fact the people involved came to believe that Chilcote had falsified some of his reported findings. He was on the verge of dismissal when he disappeared."
"I see," said Tom. "It sounds like he wasn’t entirely bogus after all."
"Apparently so," agreed Krevitt. "Now as to the other reference you gave us, Rosello, we have quite a number of people by that name in our files—and of course several whole countries are full of ’em! But nothing stands out in the present connection."
Tom thanked the Admiral and broke contact. The young inventor felt he was slightly ahead of the game—but not by much.
"The answer’s down on the bottom of the sea, I guess," said Bud. "But we’ll find it, Tom!"
Occupied with his thoughts, the time seemed to pass quickly for Tom. He was almost startled when Bud noted that the Flying Lab had crossed the long string of the Florida Keys and was ready to begin its approach to Key West. Five minutes later the crew were debarking onto the tarmac of the small private airfield maintained by Swift Enterprises at their Key West facility, the Swift Oceanic and Nautical Research Center. Even making a delicate vertical touchdown, the Sky Queen barely fit into the minute airfield.
After greeting Graham Kaye and the Director of SONRC, Dr. Eileen Mattengar, Tom turned to the task of the unloading and emplacement of the jetmarine.
"Shall we unload immediately, Tom?" one of the men asked.
"The quicker the better. We’ll get the jetmarine into the dry dock and slap on that camouflage before people are awake."
The young inventor watched with satisfaction as the special cranes, quickly reassembled, deftly slid the atomic submarine from the hangar of the plane, swung it across the sand that bordered the airfield, and cradled the jetmarine in the dry dock.
At that moment the camouflage crew sprang into action, unrolling prepared tarps from the Flying Lab. Minutes later Bud cried admiringly:
"Jetz! That covering looks just like a piece of seashore."
Tom agreed. "Any roving pirate will miss it."
After dismissing the unneeded Swift employees, who were to pilot the Sky Queen back to Shopton, Tom spent the balance of the day personally checking parts and supplies on his submarine. A quonset hut was set up next to the dry dock for the protected storage of parts, and to serve as temporary quarters. As usual, Chow was on hand to provide a tasty lunch, sumptuous supper, and tart advice. A call to Harlan Ames revealed that the incarcerated carjackers had volunteered no information, but were demanding legal representation.
In the evening Tom reviewed with Bud the intricate handling of the submarine. Standing before the myriad-lighted control panel, Tom said finally:
"Enough for now, pal, or we’ll see blinking lights in our dreams. Come on topside. Let’s hit the sack."
"Not me," Bud protested. "I’m sleeping right here—baby sitter for your brain child." He stroked the periscope handle and grinned.
"Okay, if you want to," Tom replied. "I’m just as bad—I’m sleeping in the shack twenty feet away!"
"Adios!"
The SONRC compound was afforded both radar and sonar
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes