Hasty preparations were made for Tom"s departure. He telephoned the airfield to have a jet plane with lifters readied for take-off. He also had Bud paged over the plant intercom. The copilot came on the run. When he heard the news, he was eager to accompany his pal.
"Listen, you two! I insist you have something to eat before you leave!"
Sandy declared.
Tom was impatient over any delay. When Sandy proceeded to call Chow, the old Texan solved the problem by volunteering to go along as cook.
A short time later Chow came jouncing out to the airfield astride a motor scooter, hauling a cart loaded with supplies.
"Good grief!" Tom said, unable to suppress a grin. "We"ll be back tomorrow, unless something goes wrong!"
"Bring food--that"s my motto," Chow retorted, "like any good cook."
Minutes later, after a parting handshake from his father and a worried kiss from Sandy, Tom sent the sleek jet racing down the runway for take-off. Soon they were air-borne and heading westward. Chow served a tasty meal en route.
It was still daylight when the jet landed vertically in the Colorado canyon. The government crew manning the installation, and the Swift technician who had relieved Art Wiltessa as trouble shooter on the setup, greeted them eagerly.
"Looks as if we"re in for a real test, Tom," said Mike Burrows, the engineer in charge.
"Let"s hope we pa.s.s!" said Tom, holding up crossed fingers.
He checked every detail of the Quakelizor, power plant, and the communications gear. He opened an inspection panel in each of the dual-control spheres and tuned the kinetic-hydraulic units so as to step up the working pressure of the four powerful drivers.
"Well, all we can do now is wait," the young inventor muttered, wiping his arm across his forehead.
Tom pa.s.sed the night in a fitful sleep, half expecting to be wakened at any moment by the stand-by crew on watch. No alarm occurred, however.
Dawn broke, and Chow delighted all hands with a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and corn fritters. More hours of waiting dragged by.
"What time do you think the attack will occur?" Bud asked.
Tom shrugged. "The "twenty-four-hour" business may have been approximate. But I"d say from two o"clock on is the danger period."
The young inventor checked frequently with Washington and the other crews stationed around the country. Suddenly the radiotelephone operator gave a yell.
"Your father is on the line, skipper!"
The scientist was calling from the receiver-computer headquarters at Enterprises. "Exman has reported a quake pulse will be sent in seven minutes--at 21.36 G.M.T."
"I"m ready, Dad," Tom said, then asked for various technical details before hanging up.
He pa.s.sed the word to the crew and glanced at his watch. A hasty, last-moment inspection was carried out, every man checking certain details of the setup.
Soon the pulsemakers began ticking inside the dual-control spheres as they picked up the frequency signal by radio. Tom studied the gauge dials.
Tension mounted rapidly among the waiting group. The same thought was throbbing through every mind:
_Was the nation on the brink of a terrible disaster? Or would Tom Swift"s invention safeguard the threatened area?_
As the deadline approached, Tom pushed a b.u.t.ton. The mighty hydraulic drivers throbbed into action, sending out their pulse waves across the continent!
CHAPTER XVIII
EARTHQUAKE ISLAND
Now came the hardest part of all for Tom and his companions--waiting to learn if the shock deflectors had succeeded in blotting out the enemy quake wave.
No one spoke. As the silence deepened inside the cave, the suspense became almost unbearable. Minutes pa.s.sed.
"When will we know, skipper?" a crewman ventured at last.
"Soon, I hope," Tom replied tersely.
But the waiting seemed endless. Bud"s eyes met Tom"s. The flier grinned and held up crossed fingers, just as Tom had done to Mike Burrows the previous evening. Tom managed a feeble grin in response.
Suddenly the telephone shrilled, shattering the silence of the cave. Tom s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the radioman"s hands.
"Tom Swift here!... Yes?... Thank heavens! I guess we can all be grateful, Dr. Miles!"
"Providence protected us, I"m sure, Tom," the seismologist replied at the other end of the line. "But in this instance it worked through Tom Swift"s Quakelizors! The Bona Fide plant and the surrounding area never even felt the tremor--your quake deflectors worked perfectly!"
There was no need to tell the others. Tom"s words on the telephone and the grin on his face told the story. A spontaneous volley of cheers echoed through the cave as he hung up. Then the crew crowded around to slap Tom on the back and shake his hand.
"I hope the whole country learns what you"ve done, Tom," Mike Burrows said. "If it doesn"t, I"ll be the first to spread the word as soon as the secrecy lid"s taken off!"
"Shucks, I knew all along Tom"s contraption would do the trick!" Chow boasted, glowing with pride over his young boss"s achievement.
Tom could only smile happily. "Guess we can go home now," he said to Bud and Chow.
They were preparing to leave when another flash from Washington came over the radiotelephone. A ship"s captain, five hundred miles out on the Pacific, had just reported sighting a great waterspout, accompanied by considerable wave turbulence.
"It could have been the spot where the enemy shock waves and our deflector waves met and damped out," Tom commented.
"Dr. Miles thinks so, too," the caller said.
Soon the sleek Swift jet was arrowing back across the continent. En route, Tom radioed word of his latest triumph to Mr. Swift. As always, he used the automatic scramblers to make sure any enemy eavesdroppers would pick up only static.
"Great work, son!" Mr. Swift congratulated Tom. "I was confident you could handle the situation with your Quakelizors."
"Thanks, Dad. See you soon."
When the jet finally landed at Enterprises and came to a halt on the runway, the control tower operator spoke over the radio.
"Harlan Ames would like to see Tom Jr. at the security building. He left word just a few minutes ago."
"Roger!" Tom replied.