Tom Swift and His Aquatomic Tracker (19 page)

Before Tom could answer, the door rattled as the lock was undone.

Tom and Bud exchanged glances.

"I think, maybe,
my
trip starts now," said Bud.

THE compartment door swung open briskly.

"Are executions part of your job description too, Carlow?" asked Bud bitterly.

Tristan Carlow was alone. He took a quick glance back into the corridor before closing the door softly and putting a finger to his lips. His voice was a near whisper. "I’m setting you loose. The hall and the dock chamber is unguarded at the moment. The airlock machinery will start automatically as you approach in your sub."

Bud boggled. "We’re supposed to
trust
you?"

Tom held up a hand and said quietly. "He’s a double-agent, Bud. It was on my list of theories as to why he was headed to Spain."

Carlow knelt, producing a formidable metal-cutter from beneath his loose shirt. "I don’t care if you believe me or not," he said as he went to work on Tom’s chain. "Thurston’s team recruited me years ago. My background made me a credible candidate to get involved with the GOG-image group as it was gearing up. Vaxilis trusts me—as his outside man. He thinks I’m loyal to him personally, not Ulvo Maurig." He looked up at Tom as the chain fell away. "Everything I did, Tom, was to enhance my credibility with Vaxilis. You wouldn’t have been harmed. Thurston and I had a plan to allow you to ‘accidentally’ escape in a way that wouldn’t make Vaxilis suspicious."

Tom nodded—then nodded toward Bud. "He goes with me."

"He’s next."

As Carlow worked, Bud said suspiciously: "Wrecking the SMB was a pretty extreme way to build a rep, Carlow. Or are you gonna tell us you weren’t involved?"

"No one was involved," was the muffled reply. "As Thurston told you, it was inadvertent, a ruptured tank. They very much
didn’t
want to get attention from Tom Swift. When Maurig found out he was infuriated—insane."

"Insane, hmm. How could they tell?" snorted Bud.

Carlow pulled away Bud’s chain. "Follow me. They’re all on the main deck or in the mess hall."

Tom asked, "What about you?"

"I’m hoping you’ll allow me to escape with you in your submarine."

"Sounds like a great strategy," frowned Bud, "getting alone with us out in the ocean—and pulling out a gun or one of what’s-his-name’s stillettos! Maybe we should strip-search
him
, Tom!"

"Whatever floats your boat, Barclay. Just follow and keep quiet."

They made their way through a warren of metal tunnels, crossing suspended catwalks. A last portal led them back to where they had entered Vaxilis’s hidden land. The
SnooperSub
floated placidly before them, her topside hatch open wide. "I’ve examined the hatch," stated Carlow. "Wrenching it open seems not to have breached the compression gasket, but look it over your― "

Bud cried out a frantic warning—too late!

From beneath the waters of the huge tank a snakelike form reared up into the air and darted straight at Tom! The young inventor stumbled backwards, but the striking attacker—a tiny version of Vaxilis’s servomechanical sea-worm—had already begun to coil about him like a grotesque boa constrictor. Tom’s writhing struggles against its powerful inner motors were useless. "Bud—Carlow—the sub—get going!" he choked, face reddening.

But Bud Barclay had already dashed to his friend’s side, wrapping his fingers around the coils and straining mightily to free him.

"Useless efforts," came the hollow tin voice of a loudspeaker. "I have watched you on my monitor, transmitted by my drone’s camera eyes. My clever Tristan!—Amusing to learn that one’s suspicions are right. "

"Let Tom go!" shouted Bud. "He’s no use to you dead!"

"But he’s no use to me at all," retorted the speaker. "My plans have changed. This hour I have decided to accept a proposal to switch my loyalties to those who will be more appreciative than Ulvo Maurig. Surely more pleasant. What an untutored fool he is!—allowing me to convince him that advanced steam power had a future in our age. I shall pursue my researches, and my pastimes, in a more desirable venue."

As the robotic constrictor tightened its hold, Tom’s eyes were bulging, his face turning violet. Then Bud’s eyes fell upon a possibility. "Keep trying!" he barked at Tristan Carlow.

Bud dashed to the wide-open Fat Man suit that still stood inertly a ways away. Dragging it close, he slipped his hand into the control gauntlet, hanging free within. In instant response one of the suit’s metal arms shot out toward Tom. The mechanized hand gripped the Worm at a segment junction, a weak spot, and twisted with the full force of its advanced robotic muscles.

The segments cracked apart, and the entire Worm fell dead away to the deck with a crash!

As Bud yanked Tom up onto the
Snoop
, Tom looked back. "Carlow!
Come on
!"

But gunshots had begun shouting from an opening above them. Carlow glanced upward, startled—and spun to the deck in a crimson spray. "G-go!" he croaked.

Inside the
SnooperSub
, hatch sealed, Tom woozily activated the hydraulivane thruster as the craft rang with bullet strikes. The youths knew they faced a greater danger—that Vaxilis would remotely disable the airlock mechanism, trapping them!

They bobbed near the panel. Nothing happened—and then it did! They surged forward into the airlock chamber. As the inner door closed again, the chamber began to flood.

Tense seconds later the outer hatch swung open. They were free!

Tom was panting but quickly recovering his strength and his wits. "It’ll take a while for them to come after us in their own submarine."

"And Kong Dubya is away," Bud nodded. "I’ll call up Red Jones. The
Queen
can pluck us out." Recovering the PER, Bud did so, as Tom put slow miles between the
Snoop
and the dark, silent
Centurion
.

"Head for the surface, guys, and give me a minute," replied Red. "No—half-minute!"

Tom had grim news as Bud clicked off. "We’re being pursued, flyboy. Blips coming on from the rear."

"Subs?"

"Small. Torpedos. Still a good distance, but it’s going to be a real nail-biter."

They buoyed upward and emerged into wan sunshine, amid chunks of sea ice. "Thank goodness, there she is!" Bud gulped in relief as the
Sky Queen
’s shadow slid across them.

"He hasn’t dropped the deck," Tom muttered in dismay. He grabbed the PER. "Red, lower the deck—
we’ve got torpedos on our tail!
"

"Roger! It’s coming!"

But even as a crack appeared on the wide, flat underside of the Flying Lab, foam shot up from the sea in a streak aimed at the
Queen
! "The lead one!" exclaimed Tom. "Way out in front just under the surface! Good gosh, the others are just seconds― "

A silver-white shape burst from the waves fifty feet to portside, trailing steam and raw fire! It flashed by the
Queen
and exploded in thunder above her!

"Not torpedos," gasped Tom Swift. "
Airtorps
!"

"Hunh?"

"Long range torpedos that can jump the surface and fly like missiles. They’re taking out the
Sky Queen
first—then us!" Tom grabbed the PER again. "Red—orders! Full forward and away—you’re being targeted by surface-to-airs!"

"
Yikes
! But what about you two?"

"Now!"

The skyship’s tailjets flared, even as a dozen airtorps bolted from the water. The boys watched breathlessly as a grim game was played out above, horizon to horizon. The
Sky Queen
was more maneuverable, but the airtorps were faster, overtaking the ship and locking on after her every escape. The boys knew that Red couldn’t break free for a straightaway course—it was only by wild veering that he kept the projectiles from catching up as they veered in pursuit.

"Jetz! Those things’ll run out of fuel—won’t they?"

"Eventually. Their flight motors may be air-breathers." The period had barely passed his lips when Tom suddenly shouted into the PER:

"Red! Phase in the jet lifters and throttle down the forwards—slowly. You’ve got to get altitude!
Make for the ionosphere
!"

Red Jones didn’t bother responding. Tom and Bud saw gleams of fire—and the embattled skyship began to rise steeply with the airtorps still converging upon her. Up—up—and out of sight beyond the hazy clouds.

Flash!—Flash!—Flash!

Bud stared up, face white. "Detonation! D-did they connect?"

Tom said nothing. They would know the verdict of fate in moments. If a burning hulk fell tumbling and sputtering through the clouds—

"
This is Red! It’s over
!"

Tom wiped his brow. "What happened?"

"They didn’t take too well to the air up here. Not made for low pressure, I guess. Started wobbling and went off like a string of firecrackers. Any more down there?"

Tom checked the scope. "Nothing for miles—so far."

"Come get us, Jonesy!" Bud muttered.

Tom and Bud made their report to John Thurston from the
Sky Queen
as it winged toward Shopton. "We have NATO, American, and Icelandic forces converging on the bay right now," stated Thurston. "Vaxilis isn’t going anywhere."

"A shame about Tristan Carlow," Tom said evenly, wondering how the CIA chief would respond.

"Yes. A shame. He was one of our most valuable assets. And I apologize to all of you for having had to mislead you. We felt it essential to conceal his identity as long as we could manage it—as long as GOG-image remained in operation. It’s a rough world out there, Tom."

"I know that very well."

"Of course. Oh, and here’s interesting news. We detected a Kranjovian Navy sub headed toward Iceland. Now they’ve turned tail. Wise decision, I’d say. And our satellites have reported an enormous explosion at Ulvo Maurig’s compound in Serpentopol."

"
What
!"

"Just a joke. Maurig has a reputation for reacting explosively to bad news. Humor."

"I understand, sir."

There was a further report two days later. "We circled the tanker and tried to wait ’em out," Bernt Ahlgren told Tom, reaching the Swift residence by PER. "No lights, no sound, no signs of life. When we barged in we found out why. Kid, it was flooded out, top to bottom."

Tom was shocked at the grim news. "To destroy evidence?"

"Oh no, the evidence was floating all over the place—along with some twenty bodies! Vaxilis, Carlow, everyone. They made no attempt to save themselves; it was obviously an accident of some kind. My boys think the hull must’ve been more weakened by its treatment than Vaxilis realized. But we recovered your Conqueror Worm, though—and the Delian Apollo."

Tom thought these were slight prices to pay for the loss of twenty lives.

Swift Enterprises moved on to other matters, other inventions, an eerie exploit to be related in
Tom Swift and His 3-D Telejector
. Yet there was a bit more. The capper came weeks later, when Bud called Tom over to look at the newspaper in his hand—a tiny squib of an article in the "Weird World, Isn’t It?" column.

IN SUNNY SPAIN, THE TIME OF THE CHOO-CHOO MAY HAVE COME—AND GONE

"It’s from a little burg called Los Mercados Quiveres," declared Bud. "Ever hear of it?" He read aloud:

"
Witnesses in a fishing boat reported that a large truck, in the vicinity of the refinery, turned into a pinwheel in a cloud of steam and wound up rolling in the surf. Embarassed refinery officials explained that a steam turbine of experimental design accidentally became active while being transported by truck to Huelva. No harm done, though. But we think they should stick to fighting bulls!
"

Laughter in his gray eyes, Bud looked at Tom. The young inventor shrugged languidly.

"A few bugs to work out. Give them time. But—I wouldn’t sell the horses just yet, pal."