Tom Swift and His Cosmotron Express (7 page)

BOOK: Tom Swift and His Cosmotron Express
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"Chow!" Tom exclaimed happily. "How’s the trip going?"

"Almost over—pullin’ into town tonight. An’ then I’m gonna sleep like a prairie winter! But Tom—" The cook’s Texas twang went dark. "First thing in th’ AM, I gotta talk to you about somethin’."

"Sounds important," Tom said. But what he
thought
it sounded like was
trouble
.

"Mebbe so, mebbe no. But it’s sure got me spooked! I think I’ve been follered—right spang across three states!"

 

CHAPTER 7
ANDOR EMDA

CHOW expounded on the events of his vacation over his kitchen range the next morning, as Tom sat nearby mostly looking at the vast prairie of his old friend’s rearward territory.

"Wa-aal now," said the westerner. "All these blame relatives and old pals all over the country—even a few up north. And son, they
all
got somethin’ to say!—er
think
they do. And they want me to cook fer ’em. That there’s what comes o’ havin’ a national rep-yoo-tation."

"I know, pard," said Tom with a smile. "I’ve got one too."

"Mm-hmm. But nobody asks you to
invent
somethin’ when you go visitin’. Me, allus got t’ be on the stove."

The young inventor chuckled. "Really stretched out your trip, I’d guess."

Chow snorted. "Shoulda been back two weeks ago. My old rust-bucket Nelly Belle’s jest about worn down t’ spurs an’ saddle."

"Chow... what was it that happened that ‘spooked’ you?"

The cook plunked down his spatula and turned to face his beloved boss. "I know you got troubles back here, Tom. Don’t even hafta ask. Always do—spies and the like."

"We’ve got a situation—that’s true."

"Uh-huh. A sitchee-ation. So I’m thinkin’ mebbe this ties in."

"You said you were followed?" prompted the youth.

"Yup, in my pickup acrosst three states, Ohio an’ West Virginia an’ Pennslyvania."

Chow described what had happened in colorful terms. Driving north from Chillicothe, he had noticed a late-model car, big and slate-gray, on Route 23, then again on Highway 70.

"What made you notice it?" Tom asked.

"Wa-aal, she looked a mite
foreign
, know what I mean? An’ that gray color, like when it’s gonna thunder ’n rain a gullywasher—not what I’d call a
friendly
color."

"I see."

Chow nodded billowingly and continued. "An’ the winders were all reflectorized-up, so’s you couldn’t see inside. Anyway, sometimes he’d be right b’hind, sometimes he’d pull around and get ahead. License plate—wrote it down somewhere—wa-aal, it was one o’ them temperary ones—unofficial. Piece o’ paper.

"Like that mile after mile. All acrosst West Virginia. Finally he pulls away ahead an’ I figger he’s gone fer good. But then I stop at this diner by the highway jest outside Claysville. Jest as I finish up eatin’ I look out th’ winder an’
whoa
!, there’s that car again!"

"As if he were following you out of sight." Tom paused and said carefully, "But pardner, that route you took is pretty standard and well-traveled. Maybe he was just heading up to New York like you were."

Chow’s face narrowed into prairie indignation. "I saw him, son. Got out o’ the car like he ’as checkin’ a roadmap—now yew tell me, why’d somebody in a big new car be usin’ a
roadmap
? They got them computer thingies."

"You’re sure it was a roadmap?"

"Boss, I didden say it
was
a roadmap, I said it
looked
like one. An’ then th’ poke looks up at me through the winder—
stares
at me, like he ’as tryin’ to mesmerize my face! Now why’d a honest feller do that? Stare at me so hard?"

"Were you wearing your cowboy hat?"

"Always do. Whazzat got to do with it?"

"Sorry."

"This man, got him a funny foreign look—one o’ them little pencil mustaches, thick eyeglasses, an’ a hat, nice tweedy-type hat. I ask you, Tom, what sorta man goes around wearin’ a dang
hat
nowadays?"

Tom carefully hid a smile. "Does sound a little suspicious. What happened then?"

"Then I pay an’ go out an’ try t’ get some miles on me afore he gets himself started. But sure enough, round about th’ state line, there he is agin! Finally got shed o’ him up around Bradford."

Tom stood and gave the older man a friendly hug. "Chow, you’ve proven yourself a pretty good detective more than once—and a good shooter, too. When you’re done here, come with me to Security—I’d like Phil Radnor to hear your story."

The Texan lit up. "I kin give this here a rest right now, boss. Let’s go!"

As Chow and Tom walked together, Tom gave his friend a summary outline of his current danger plot, the
Fire Fury
, the warning, the apparent disappearance of Nattan Volj and the Brungarian spaceship. "Yep, I sure do r’member
thet
one," said Chow. "Sneakin’ space sidewinders! We shoulda let ’em crash right down on the blame moon!"

"For all we know, that might be what happened." Then Tom provided his trusted friend with an account of the home invasion. Chow was almost as outraged as Tom. His wild western shirt of many colors seemed to turn a shade redder.

Approaching the security office, next to the office shared by Tom and his father, the two rounded a corner. "There’s Rad," said Tom quietly. Two figures stood in the reception area. As both turned and greeted Tom with smiles, Chow’s hand suddenly clapped down on his boss’s forearm like a vise!

‘B-Boss!" he choked in a whisper. "It’s
him
! That’s the feller from the car!"

"
What
!—? Are you sure?"

"
He’s got the jim-dang hat in his hand!
"

"I was just welcoming our visitor, Tom," said Phil Radnor. "Tom Swift, Andor Emda."

As Tom met the visitor’s hand, there was audible gulping from behind him. "Hello, sir. I, er—suppose you just flew in?"

"Naw," replied Emda, his voice casual, with no trace of an accent. He did indeed match Chow’s description, down to the thin mustache and thick glasses. "Drove to Shopton in my long-term rental. Gave me some time to think—driving has its uses. Even if you sometimes get stuck for miles behind a farmer in an old rusty pickup." Tom snuck a glance behind him, noting that Chow was now hiding his big hat behind his bigger bulk. Emda continued, "Did they imply I was coming from Brungaria? I was born in Brungaria, but Mom and Dad emigrated to the U.S. after the revolution. I grew up here, right outside Houston."

"T-
Texas
?" came a weak voice. Tom introduced Chow, and observed a plump and nervous handshake.

"I think of myself as a citizen of two countries," declared Emda. "A few years ago my career took me back to the old Motherland, and I’ve been living there, but I was on a visit to my folks in Houston when I got my new assignment from the boss back in Volkonis."

Tom invited the group into his office, where they sat and talked, joined by Tom’s father. Chow’s hat ended up under his chair and immersed in his personal shadow. "I should probably explain further," Emda said. "I have advanced degrees in astrophysics and engineering, from the University of Texas, and I worked much of my adult life for NASA."

"The Houston Space Center?" asked Damon Swift.

"Yes, and for various contractors. But eight years ago I was made a good offer and traveled back to Brungaria to work for their equivalent to NASA, COSMOSA. My technical work was perfectly genuine—but it developed that I was in a good position to undertake a very different assignment at the request of the Brungarian government. I became something of a spy."

"Uh-
huh
!" broke in Chow with a degree of self-satisfaction.

"That’s right," grinned Emda. "A spy—or maybe I should say a planted informant. As you know, many remnants of the old regime continue to work in COSMOSA while secretly supporting the dissident faction called the Sentimentalists. They developed what was virtually their own space program, using the abandoned
Dyaune
project—"

Tom uttered a faint gasp. "I recognize you!"

"I reck’nized him first!" snorted Chow.

The Brungarian American nodded. "I wondered if you would. Yes, I was a member of the
Dyaune
’s crew on the moon flight. I was one of the ones who went aboard the animal saucer with Nattan Volj. Didn’t have the mustache back then, and I was in one of our bulky spacesuits." As Tom’s eyes shifted to Radnor quizzically, Emda went on: "Mr. Thurston should have let you know about my heroic past. I had wormed my way into Volj’s employ as part of my informant job, gaining his trust over the years.

"I was sickened by what happened, gentlemen—Volj’s attempt to destroy you and seize the alien life forms for his own purposes. I celebrated inside when you used your repelling machines to kick us out into space."

"We never knew what happened to the
Dyaune
thereafter," commented Mr. Swift.

"We limped back to Earth with our nuclear-ion tail between our legs," the man replied. "In the ship, Volj remained in seclusion—the crew wondered if he’d had a breakdown. We landed, under our anti-radar cloak, in her permanent base in North Africa."

"I gather you don’t know its location," Radnor put in. "I know you’ve been pretty extensively debriefed."

"Yes, by both my governments. But no, once we arrived at the airport in Algiers on our frequent trips they always put us in a chopper with blacked-out windows, coming and going. We’re set up in a little box canyon—pretty sure it’s in the Ahaggar Mountains. That’s about all I know.

"The Sentimentalists made sure I retained my ‘official’ position in COSMOSA, and sent me back to Brungaria regularly. The last time, after the
Dyaune
’s return from the moon, I ran away for good, into government protection. After making my reports, I was out of the spy business—just another consulting engineer with an astrophysics background working in a ‘cleansed’ division of COSMOSA. As you know, we’re restarting our space program with a new vehicle based in part on the perfected technology of the
Dyaune
. I do know something about
that
."

Tom decided to take a risk. He spoke carefully, with a glance at his father. "Andor—"

"Naw, gimme a break. Andy—please."

"There are rumors in scientific circles about the
Dyaune
and Professor Volj. Have you... heard anything?"

Emda nodded. "I think you mean this deal about the ship having disappeared up in space."

"Then you know," Tom confirmed.

"I’ve heard the rumors, and I presume both of ‘my’ governments know a lot more, a lot more than they’re willing to tell humble helpers like me. It’s thought that a rival faction may have seized the craft, or perhaps that it exploded. I’ve also heard the notion that it’s a hoax from beginning to end, that the Brungarian security boys are trying to lure the Sentimentalist leadership into the open by capturing the ship—maybe with Swift technology, some say."

"Absolutely untrue," huffed Mr. Swift.

"Of course. But there’s one thing I
can
confirm," he went on. "Lunar satellite data indicates that
something
was in orbit around the moon—and then it wasn’t."

"Andy," said Tom after a pause, "I don’t mean to be blunt—"

"Aw, c’mon, think of me as a fellow American! Be as rude as you like."

"Why are you here, exactly? What is your assignment?"

Andy Emda leaned back in his chair, drawing together a careful answer. "Obviously, many governments are very... concerned... about what seems to be the ownership, by
i-Szentimentlya
, of an incredibly advanced and dangerous multi-mach jetcraft. I’m told the security high-ups know where the technology was developed—but, as they say, that’s above my pay grade.

"There’s a possibility—no confirmation—that it’s all tied to Volj and the
Dyaune
base in North Africa. As Mr. Radnor knows, the Brungarian government has ‘recalled’ me to service on an unofficial basis, at the request of Washington, and with the approval of NATO."

"In other words," Chow declared grimly, "you’re s’posed t’
spy
on us!"

Emda looked at the food-wrangler in surprise. "No, not at all. Despite the paranoid rumors, Swift Enterprises is not suspected of anything—it was your worksite that was the
target
of the jetcraft’s ‘demonstration’ and the threatening demand. In Brungarian no less! I’m here to work with you in formulating a strategy in response."

"Maybe we should just cut through it all," said Radnor sharply. "I had a nice talk with John Thurston an hour ago. They want Enterprises to investigate the space business, the possible disappearance of the
Dyaune
. They think Emda, with his scientific training and general familiarity with the ship and with Volj—they think he might provide valuable support in developing the mission. They’re pressing us to get up there as quickly as possible."

"Up there?" repeated Tom—knowing the answer.

"Yes,
up there
," confirmed Andor Emda. "To the moon. And then after that—who knows where?"

 

CHAPTER 8
MYSTERIES IN SPACE

TOM’S immediate response was a thoughtful frown that wanted to be a grimace. "Space sleuthing. Andy, Dad and I talked about a survey trip to the moon as soon as we heard the... rumors. But right now—"

Emda interrupted with a nod. "Obviously, you’re in the middle of your latest project, your Cosmotron Express spacecraft and the trip to the outer planets. But two presidents agree that Enterprises will give its usual cooperation, now that the
Viper Spirit
has emerged as a threat."

"
Viper Spirit
," Tom repeated. He said dryly, "It seems you’ve been well-briefed on the American role in developing the
Fire Fury
."

"Would you expect otherwise?" asked Emda with a smile. "And now
you’ve
confirmed that you’ve talked the matter over with Mr. Langley, whom I gather is a subject of investigation. Yep, we know the hyperjet is based upon the designs developed under contract by Wickliffe Laboratories. But the engine!—where’d it come from? I would have known if Volj’s engineers had cracked
that
problem. I still have a few contacts."

BOOK: Tom Swift and His Cosmotron Express
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