Free Tom Swift and His Jetmarine by Victor Appleton II Page B

clenched his fists and looked out toward the dark ocean. "It seems the enemy doesn’t just want the sub," he said. "They want it in pieces!"
    Arvid Hanson and the Swift Enterprises crew urged the two boys to get some sleep, but this proved to be impossible to do. Both Tom and Bud tossed restlessly until dawn. Finally Tom arose and hurried out to the jetmarine, near to which Bud Barclay was pacing up and down.
    "Bud," he said, joining his friend, "I have an idea. Let’s assume that it was the pirate sub that fired the torpedo at us, the same sub they use to attack the ships. She’s probably of conventional design, not an atomic; the use of contraband atomic materials would expose the Snipers to too much risk of being traced. If they have a base on or around Spaniel Island, the jetmarine’d beat her with ease and be there waiting for her!"
    "Terrific idea!" Bud agreed with enthusiasm. "We might even find Hank Sterling there! When do we leave?"
    "Within the hour," Tom replied. "By the way, I’ve plotted a course that will take us right over the Vostok ’s estimated position. If we make good time, as I expect, it won’t hurt to pause for a couple hours to carry out that part of our mission. And it might be an important thing to do."
    "Why?" Bud asked.
    "Because I’m sure these things are all tied together somehow—the sunken sub and the blackout attackers. It might be wise to pick up some clues before we confront the pirates."
    Making miracles with a portable propane cookstove, Chow Winkler had prepared breakfast for them. As they were eating, the cook answered the ringing telephone. "It’s fer you, Tom," he said. "I’ll keep the flapjacks warm."
    The caller proved to be Harlan Ames, who had received Tom’s preliminary report on the torpedo explosion and was calling for additional details.
    "It throws me that they know our every move," Tom said hotly. "The only way they could know we were launching from Key West would be from one of the small group of trusted Swift employees that flew here with us, or the SONRC people, and I just can’t accept that."
    "I know how you feel," remarked Ames sympathetically. "On our end here, there’s nothing new. As you know, Sidney Dansitt and his jet have completely flown the coop."
    "How about Chilcote and Rosello?"
    "We still don’t know who or what ‘Rosello’ might be. All I have on Chilcote is a very old report that he was thought to be purchasing electronic equipment in Trinidad. Not much—but it does suggest that he’s been working in your general part of the world."
    Before boarding the jetmarine, Tom made one final call from a computer terminal in the SONRC building. Despite the earliness of the hour, he wanted to see if Rita Scheering had any new information for him.
    "I wish I did, hon," she said over their webcam connection, clad in a robe. "So where are you now? That’s not your lab in the background."
    "I’m where we’re launching the new sub," Tom replied. "We’ll be taking a look at your mystery area."
    "What if they hit you with that blackout machine of theirs?"
    "I don’t think their method will work under water," said Tom. "And when we surface, I’ll be protected by a new invention of mine, a distorter that should jam their pulsator."
    She wished Tom luck.
    Half an hour later Tom and Bud were ready to commence their voyage and hastened to the submarine. To their surprise, Chow had arranged for a christening. He stood with a large bottle of ginger ale in his hand, a broad grin on his broad face.
    "This here li’l ole sub’s jest got to have a name," he announced. "I mean, ‘SE117JM’ is not the sort o’ thing a mother’d call her baby. How’s the Seaweed Stallion sound to you, Tom?"
    Not wanting to offend Chow, Tom hesitated. Seeing his dilemma, Wesley Beale spoke up.
    "Say, Tom, if you’re taking suggestions, how about calling her the Atomic Squid?"
    This set off a good-humored competition. Several other names even less likely were tossed around.