Tom Swift and His Spectromarine Selector (17 page)

BOOK: Tom Swift and His Spectromarine Selector
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"Hmm!" The young inventor was suddenly, amazingly, calm. "Over to the starboard viewpane, guys, and—watch the birdie!"

CHAPTER 20
A FATHOMS-DEEP SECRET

THE WATCHERS saw the remaining torpedo tear into the repelatron bubble. Startlingly, it instantly began to tumble! As it faltered the still-rising bubble rose beneath it, plunging it back into the water. After a few woozy seconds, it exploded!

The amazed crewmen turned as a group to look in awe at their young captain. "You see, mateys, when we took the repelatron and its compensation tanks inside, we no longer had an
air
bubble, but a great big empty vacuum space. I figured—kind of at the last minute—that a torpedo designed for water wouldn’t be able to handle a big bunch of nothing!" Tom’s smile bore a hint of mischief.

Diminishing the bubble but continuing to ascend at a reduced pace, Tom was able to use the steam jets again. The
Ocean Arrow
angled toward the surface. "Where’s the
Hydra-Gaea?"
he asked Hank.

"Breaking off. I think she’s turning back."

"Signal coming in on the sonophone," Bud announced. "You know who."

"This is the
Hydra-Gaea.
Chief Commander Drozhal speaking. Do you read us?—well, no matter, eh? I salute you, Tom Swift. It was wonderful to behold, though I cannot quite understand precisely what you did. When you reach the surface, you will no doubt alert the international forces, more than a match for the Kranjovian submarine fleet. I am a practical man. I see no point in remaining. We shall proceed to our port, and give a complete report. And now the consequences fall upon me, eh?—We will see."

The
Arrow
crew grinned and high-fived one another joyously.

"Incidentally, Tom," Drozhal added, "I wish you to know something. We are honorable military men, not savages. In the actual event, I would not have carried out my order to destroy the submarine city and all within. Some things cannot be done."

After breaking the surface briefly and contacting the US mainland, Tom submerged the
Arrow
once again and guided it back to the seamount and down through the channel to Aurum City, soon frantic with relief.

After the cheers had died away, Tom asked what had happened during the last few hours. "Nothin’ t’ speak of," Chow replied. "No sign o’ that sneak we ’as worried over. Guess he’s still hidin’ out somewhere."

Tom nodded agreement but said nothing.

Later in the day, the spectromarine selector rolling down a new avenue, Tom invited Bud and Brian to stroll with him to inspect one of the buildings that had recently been cleaned. "I’m anxious to take a look on that plain to the east of here, the one with the pyramids, if that’s really what they are," Tom remarked as they walked along, awed by the golden ruins. "I think I can attach the small repelatron directly to the spectrosel platform, so we can drive around on the sea bottom outside the hydrodome setup. We’ll test it out in one of the areas of the city outside the hydrodomes. I’m anxious to—"

"Hey!" interjected Brian. "Company."

Professor Centas was ambling across the cleared intersection, Mordo a few feet behind. "Hello, hello, you heroes!" he called, waving pleasantly. "I have something interesting for you to see!" He and Mordo halted a few yards distant. By contrast to his mentor, Mordo appeared sober and tense.

"Have you found something, Professor?" asked Bud.

He reached inside the Swift Enterprises project jacket he had been given and withdrew an impulse pistol, aiming it at the startled group. "I promised you that you would find it interesting!"

"Not to disappoint you, Professor, but this doesn’t come as a complete surprise," remarked Fraser coolly. "I saw you put that canister in place the other day."

"Yes, a silly business. And no doubt there were other clues. But could you expect better? I am not a spy or a criminal, you know, just a poor scientist."

"You’re a very respected researcher, Professor Centas," said Tom. "How can a man like you stoop to working with spies and mobsters?"

The older man smiled a bit sadly—even sheepishly. "As I believe Mordo mentioned to you—the ‘man like me’ you speak of is no longer the man he was. My memory, my intellect, dispersing like smoke. I accept it with despair. But I must think of my helpless future, when I will require comfort and care of the sort wealth can buy, hmm?"

"The Kranjovians pay well, huh!" snorted Bud.

"Well enough, young man, particularly when what they are purchasing is not merely my dim talents as an agent, but a wondrous scientific discovery—something of enormous value!"

"What we discover here in Aurum City will be shared with the whole world," Tom declared. "No one will need to pay through the nose for it."

Centas chuckled. "But it is I, not you, Tom, who has discovered the
orichalcum!"

"What’s he talking about?" hissed Fraser to Tom.

"A legendary metal the people of Atlantis were supposed to have used," Tom replied slowly. "Plato speaks of it. So it’s real, Professor?"

"Oh yes, very much so. It’s all through this area, waiting to be refined. Extraordinarily light in weight, very strong and ductile. Superb engineering uses, I would think. Mordo and I discovered it while investigating the sea vents, and have been able to map the veins. Kranjovia—that is, Ulvo Maurig—wishes to know precisely where the veins are, for they dream of establishing an undersea mining operation. I promised to supply the information for a price. But they wished to haggle—their custom, I think."

"I see," Tom pronounced. "They said any operation here by other countries threatened to bring the discovery to light, eliminating their advantage. They convinced you to plot against me as part of the deal."

Centas gave a humorous half-bow. "Yes, very good, Tom. The wisdom of age bows to the vigor of youth. When the men they had first hired, the American mob, failed to eliminate you, or even discourage you, I was told to proceed. I did cause my share of trouble, eh?—fungus, the parchment, a bit of minor sabotage."

Bud turned to Mordo. "You’re a pretty good actor, Mordo," he grated heatedly. "I take it the missing vial bit was all part of the plan."

"No, you’re wrong," insisted Mordo in a despondent voice. "All I told you was what I believed."

"Don’t besmirch poor Mordo’s character," Centas said. "Last night he confronted me with all his suspicions, and I told the fellow everything I was up to, and why, and what he himself might expect from it. He was gracious enough to take my side."

"He is my mentor and my teacher," Mordo stated firmly. "I can not betray him."

Centas waved his i-gun in a mocking way. "But I had somewhat run dry of ideas, Tom, until you happened to show me this amazing pistol, and how to work it. It was not difficult to procure. And now, perhaps you can see that I have turned it to its maximum setting, which I trust will do worse than brown your skins. When you lie before us, Mordo and I will drag you to the edge of the air-dome and shove you into the sea, near one of the currents of heated water. You will drift about merrily for some time, and not be found until what remains of you is in the saddest of conditions. Of course, there will be suspicions. But others here are also vulnerable to this. And, you know, I am a great man."

Tom reached into his pants pocket. "I also have something interesting, Professor. May I show you?" He held up a small, square cartridge. "I’m sure you recognize it, as a scientist—a Swift solar battery. Took it out right after our play-acted demo session aboard the
Fathomer,
which we put together for your benefit and temptation."

"Not exactly a phony distress call," Bud mocked. "I’d call it
bait."

"I apologize if I made you nervous with my comments about the bosses turning against the employees," added Tom. "I thought it might be useful to give you a bit of extra motivation."

White and trembling, not with fear but rage, Centas choked out: "Impossible!
Impossible!"

Tom smiled blandly. "Try an experiment. Shoot this battery from my hand!"

Centas hurled the i-gun to the pavement. "So. It seems I shall spend my last—"

A jolting
bang!
cut off his words. Eyes bulging, the scientist jerked forward and collapsed to the pavement.

"My service revolver!" whispered Lieutenant Fraser.

"What shall I say? Let me work it out," said Mordo emotionlessly.
"‘He pulled out the electric pistol. I saw his finger tighten. There was no time to think. I took the revolver I stole and fired one shot. The others? They were in a panic of fear and misremember what happened.’
Some will disbelieve, but what matter? All agree that three potential murders did not take place."

"Some kind of sick personal grudge, Mordo?" Bud demanded.

"Oh, not at all." Mordo stepped forward and handed the astonished Fraser the revolver. "Your property, Lieutenant."

Tom approached the splayed body of Centas and knelt down. "He’s gone. Good shooting, Mordo."

"Yes," the man replied. "Good actor, good shooter."

"You’re all well-trained." He rolled Centas over and felt in his jacket pocket. "Here it is. Bet you bumped into him on the way over and slipped it in."

He held it up for the others to see—a small white card.

"Comrade-General Li is the future," said Mordo. "He does not care to have petty thugs like the Mayday Mob take business that he refused because the recompense offered him was insulting. The deaths of the three Mayday Mob men, and now the collaborator Centas, make the point with great clarity."

"Three
Mob deaths?" repeated Bud.

Mordo glanced at his wristwatch. "Within the last hour, Joe Judson in his cell. It is most certain. You can set your watch by it."

As Tom gazed down silently at the body of Professor Centas, Brian put a hand on his shoulder. "You never really get used to it, kid."

"I don’t
want
to get used to it."

Mordo did not resist as he was marched to confinement in the freight hold of the
Supermanta.

Modifying the spectromarine selector with a repelatron gave Tom a better place to turn his thoughts. A day later he and Bud rumbled up to the wall of the
Deepwing
hydrodome, then on through into the water, protected by their own mobile mini-hydrodome.

"Jetz, this is great!" exulted Bud after Tom used the cannon on several structures.

Tom chuckled. "Genius boy modestly agrees! I can’t wait to use the spectrosel on whatever we find in the plain. We can stopover in the
Deepwing
on the way home."

"Which brings up a question. Won’t you have to take the spectrosel apart to store it in the freight hold?"

"Nope. I’ve worked out a way to lash it to the top of the hull in its assembled form."

"Mighta known!" Bud laughed.

Finally the day arrived. The Atlantis operation was wrapped up and the crews boarded the mantacopters. The three big repelatrons had been switched off and loaded aboard, but an automatic detector-alarm system had been left active to watch over Aurum City.

The floodlights were shut down, and the sunken city turned from sparkling gold to inky darkness.

As the
Deepwing
rose through the channel, Chow pointed out the crack that was the doorway to the home of the sea serpent. "Feller didn’t even poke his nose out t’say goodbye."

"His nose is probably still pretty sore," Zimby Cox pointed out from the pilot’s seat.

As they exited the channel and turned toward the plain of pyramids, Bud suddenly said: "I just thought of something. Miss Gabardine, did you ever find out anything about that suspicious conversation you overheard?" He nodded subtly in the direction of Zimby.

Gabardine reddened. "Well, yes, actually…"

It was Zim who completed the thought. "I found out all about it. The person I was talking to was—"

"Me!" Chow interjected. "An’ it shor wasn’t
Kranjovia
I ’as talkin’ about, but—"

"Anchovies,"
finished Cox. "He had some exotic idea about a deep-sea dish. In the interest of the survival of the expedition, it was my solemn duty to scotch it!"

"Aw, warn’t
that
experee-mental!" Chow grumbled. "Woulda been right tasty."

"But I apologize," said Miss Gabardine. "And despite that incident, my evaluation is thorough and complete."

Tom asked what conclusions she had drawn. In reply she held up her notebook. On the cover she had drawn a smiley-face!

In minutes the imaging sonarscope announced that the manta was approaching its destination. "Switch on our searchlight, Bud," Tom directed. The crew gazed out the viewpane in tense anticipation, none more keenly than George Braun and Ham Teller.

An instant later the sunlike beam cut a brilliant slash through the darkness. The rugged peaks of the Horseshoe Seamounts formation stood out on either side.

"Bud says there’s a religious ceremonial ground somewhere near here," Brian said.

"That’s right," George replied. "At least that’s what
I
think it is!" Ham gave him a mock-scornful look.

"We picked it up in our sonarscope sweep," Tom commented to the Navy man. "I’m heading for the spot. Soon we’ll see the pyramids I told you about."

Aurum City had been built in a canyon enclosed by beetling rock walls which had once parted into a great valley beyond the city’s outskirts. The earth upheaval that had drowned the city had thrown up the fourth wall. Now they were descending into the valley plain, hundreds of square miles in extent. "This is one of the big open spaces that gives the Horseshoe Seamounts its name," noted Ham.

The
Deepwing
’s dazzling beam swept the valley floor as they glided along. Here and there stood crumbling stone huts, overgrown with seaweed and ocean vegetation. Many areas appeared covered with ancient lava flows.

"Wonder who lived here?" Brian mused.

"Probably these were peasant apartment houses," Tom deduced. "In fact, this whole area may once have been a green, verdant valley with flocks of livestock and cultivated fields."

Aurum City, he conjectured, was no doubt the capital city of this lost civilization. "Just think," Tom went on. "An unknown people settled this valley thousands of years ago. They grew skilled enough in art and architecture to build splendid gold palaces and temples. They must have had good farmers, too, to feed the population. Then one day disaster struck—a flood wiping out the work of centuries. And the whole land sank under the ocean!"

BOOK: Tom Swift and His Spectromarine Selector
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