As Bud gingerly laid the crow back on the work-table, Tom grabbed up a small barrel of oil, poured it into a large tank, and immersed the crow.

"I hope this works," Bud said, not completely sure that the boys would not be blown up, despite Tom's precaution. The metal breastplate of the bird had already been removed, exposing an intricate network of wires and transistors.

Now Tom reached for a screw driver and fine pincers. In a moment he had the back of the crow off.

"No bomb here," he muttered.

"What about that bulge in the belly area?' Bud asked nervously.

Tom quickly unbolted a bottom plate. "No," he said. "This is the radio-sensory receiver. The crow sees with its legs. The talons are meshed radar screens-it sort of hears its way along with them."

"That leaves just the head of the bird," said Bud. "Tom, don't you think we'd better quit?"

But Tom, working with delicate precision, had begun to unwind the threading on the sharp-beaked Tongues of flame spit from the opening 50 .

head of the crow. Within was a seepage-diffusion chemical time fuse and a charge of dynamite! But it had been deactivated by the oil.

"Whew!" Bud exclaimed. "You didn't give that old crow a bath a minute too soon! The chemical had eaten along the tape almost to the dynamite!"

Tom admitted being shaken by the whole experience and suggested that they fly back to the plant at once.

Immediately upon their arrival Tom ordered repairs begun on the Flying Lab's hangar, then took the crow to his own metallurgical workshop. Picking up the intercom, he located his father and asked him to come at once to inspect the mechanical bird.

"It's a scientific wonder," he said. "And powerful."

Mr. Swift hurried over and gazed at the crow which Tom had just finished cleaning of oil. After an inspection the elder inventor remarked: "You're right, Tom. This is a brilliant piece of engineering. It's almost flawless.

Not one cubic centimeter of unused s.p.a.ce."

"The co-ordinator is an electronic gem of a circuit," Tom added.

His father frowned. "This is the work of a very ingenious scientist. No one else could have planned such a mechanism."

"Yes, Dad. And I'm sure it couldn't be Flash Ludens. He may be an electrical wizard, but he's just NARROW ESCAPE 51.

a flash in the pan compared to the genius behind this crow!"

"Right," Mr. Swift agreed. "Look at that t.i.ttle gyro which stabilizes the bird in a resting position until it receives directing impulses. Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"The man must be mad to hobn.o.b with cutthroats like the Briggin gang," Tom said.

"I agree, son. And that makes him all the more dangerous. I want you to take every precaution in tracking him down."

Tom smiled. "I will, Dad," he said. "But I want that relotrol back before he makes some horrible use of my invention."

For a few minutes father and son talked over the improved relotrol on which Tom was working. The new one, to be installed in the control panel inside the atomic energy plant, would be one-hundred-percent radiation proof.

"By the way, Dad," said Tom, "I think I should take a trip out to the plant soon. Do you realize I haven't seen it yet?"

Mr. Swift's eyes twinkled. "It's your own fault," he said good-naturedly. "If you'd stop gallivanting around the world in your own inventions, you might have time to come out West and see my project!"

"You win, Dad." Tom laughed. "I'll go out soon. Hope you'll be there to show me around."

"Wait till you see it, Tom. It's like a white citadel 52 .

jutting up out of the wasteland rock desert. In fact, that's what we decided to call it: Citadel. For miles around there's no civilization, just big black boulders and crumbling, eroded pink cliffs."

"Sounds wonderful, Dad. And no chance of harming any neighbors?"

"That's right. The border of the nearest ranch is fifteen miles away." Mr. Swift looked at his watch. "Tom, your poor mother will certainly have every right to chide us for being late to dinner again. It's after eight o'clock. Come on."

The two locked up the laboratory and went at once to Tom's jeep. They drove home quickly and the evening meal was set on the table immediately. But there was no chiding from understanding Mrs. Swift. She was used to serving food at any time of day or night to her adventurous husband and son.

Conversation revolved almost exclusively around the capture of the mechanical crow and its amazing ability, despite its size, to kidnap an object as large as a plane.

Mrs. Swift frowned. "It worries me to think of an ingenious scientist and a bank robber working together. That's a frightening combination for the Swifts to have as enemies."

The conversation was cut short by the insistent buzzing of the videophone from the plant. Tom excused himself and rushed to the screen in the living room.

The face that appeared on it was Dilling's. The radioman looked weary and agitated.

NARROW ESCAPE 53.

"Yes, George," Tom said. "Did you find out anything?"

"Yes. Ham Smith and I took two trucks out. We started work about two hundred miles apart. Each of us picked up the same high-frequency signal shortly after you went up in the Flying Lab, and so did the tower operator at Shopton. We began tracking at once, making a directional fix from each of the three locations. Here's the result."

Billing held up a large chart before the screen. He had added direction lines and decimal numerical ratings of ascending signal strengths. Using simple tri- angulation, he had marked in red the point at which all three lines converged. It was about twenty-five miles from Shopton.

"The enemies' control station must be located here," he said.

"I'll go there at once," Tom answered excitedly. "It's almost directly below the spot where the crows first attacked us!"

Switching off the set, he telephoned to Radnor, then Ames and finally Bud at their homes, to meet him in his office at once. He himself went to get the chart.

When the four a.s.sembled, Tom said: "I asked you to come here because I didn't want anyone listening in on our phone conversation. We're going on a highly secret mission."

After giving them Billing's report, Tom outlined his plan for surprising the owners of the crows. "The place may be hard to find and we'll have to go part 54 .

way on foot," he said. "The spot is some distance from the road. Get flashlights."

They took the black sedan in which Bud had arrived, deciding that the license number of this car would not be known to Tom's mysterious enemies. The last five miles of the trip were rough and progress was slow. It was nearly eleven o'clock before they parked and started through the desolate woods on foot.

Fortunately, there was bright moonlight and use of their flashlights was unnecessary. After walking a quarter of a mile they crossed a small knoll, studded with rocks. Just beyond it stood a stark, lightning-shattered tree. Beside it was a wooden shack.

Tom and his friends dropped to the ground and inched toward it through high weeds.

CHAPTER 7.

A MECHANICAL COMEDIAN.

TOM, Bud, and the security officers crawled ahead toward the shack. There was not a sound.

A few yards from the dilapidated building, Tom suggested that Harlan and Radnor cover the place from the outside while he and Bud tried the door.

"Flash an S O S if you need any help," Radnor whispered to the boys as they crawled off.

When they reached the shack, Tom and Bud noticed that the door hung open about two feet. Reaching up, Tom rapped lightly on it.

Silence!

"Guess there's n.o.body home!" Bud chuckled softly.

"I'll go first," Tom whispered. Beaming his flashlight, he got to his feet, crouched over, and began inching into the shack. Suddenly the door swung wide with a shrill squeak. Tom jumped back.

55.

56 .

Then, realizing that a gust of wind had moved the door, he started forward again, tiptoeing into the one-room structure. Bud followed and both boys played their powerful flashlights around. The beams revealed only cobwebs and emptiness.

"Guess we came to the wrong place," Bud said.

"I don't think so," Tom replied. He had been pivoting his flashlight around the room, probing into corners and searching the roofing beams. "What's that up there?" He aimed his light overhead.

Dangling by a wire from a crossbeam was a large white cardboard sign. On it was crudely printed: WE EXPECTED YOU, TOM SWIFT JR.

The young inventor gasped, partly in fury, partly in disbelief. "But how-" he asked, puzzled. "How could anyone have learned we were coming here? You know how careful we were about planning this raid in secret!"

Bud stared in bewilderment, then flashed for Radnor and Ames. When they entered, he pointed to the swinging sign.

"So they beat us to the draw," Harlan said in disgust. He walked over and studied the message. "It was placed here within the hour, Tom. The ink on the printing is still wet enough to smear."

"But how did your enemies find out our strategy. Tom?" said Radnor. "It seems incredible."

"They couldn't have tapped the videophone lines," Tom said. "The signals are sent scrambled, A MECHANICAL COMEDIAN 57.

modulated against random noise. Only our own receivers have built-in decoding records. And certainly no one was spying on my home," he added. "No signal sounded to show anyone tried to cross the magnetized zone around the house."

"That," said Ames, "leaves only the plant. There must have been a security leak at Swift Enterprises, sometime within the past two hours. It's the only other way our plans could have become known so quickly and thoroughly."

"Everyone at the plant has been double-checked.' Radnor spoke up. "And there were no visitors after four o'clock. I can't understand a slip-up like this."

Harlan Ames began to pace the floor of the shack. "We'll run another check,"

he said. "Tomorrow we'll put a tracer through on second cousins and casual outside friends of the friends of employees, if necessary. Somewhere we'll find the leak and then-"

Suddenly Ames leaped into the air, yelling, "Ouch! My footl I just jabbed it on something sharp."

As Tom focused the beam of his flashlight on the floor, Ames hopped around on one foot, clutching the other with his hand.

"Went right through the sole of my shoe," he said.

"Here's what you stepped on," said Tom. A sharp metal point was sticking out of the floor boards.

"Watch it, Tom," cautioned Bud. "This may be a scheme to accomplish what the crows were supposed to do. We never thought of checking the cellar!"

58 .

Tom motioned the others to back away while he probed at the surrounding boards. "I think that this metal is attached to something underneath. Doesn't look like a bomb from here."

Bud, Radnor, and Ames helped him wrench loose more of the flooring. Below was a shallow cellar, containing a unit of gears and motors.

"Well, that couldn't be what manipulated those crows," Bud said.

"No," Tom agreed. "I have an idea the control unit was probably mobile- maybe built into big vans-and that's how they managed to clear out so soon."

Tom studied the large mechanism after Radnor and Ames lifted it from the cellar. "This looks like a timing control of some sort. I've seen only one other like it. That was in the door of a bank safe! I'll bet that this is a duplicate of a vault's timing mechanism and someone was using it to experiment with."

The others stared at him. "Flash Ludens?" they chorused.

"That's my guess," Tom nodded. "Let's take this along."

Outside the shack, Bud's flashlight beam showed large, deep tire tracks.

Pointing them out to Tom, he said, "These prove your theory about a mobile control unit, all right."

The four carried the timing device to their sedan and started for Shopton. On the way back, Ames used the car's first-aid kit to treat his foot. During a A MECHANICAL COMEDIAN 59.

lull in the conversation, Tom flipped on the radio to get the news.

"-and here is a flash just in," said the announcer presently. "There has been a daring robbery at the Farmington National Bank. The police have not given out any details as yet. They merely said that an unusual method was used. The night watchman, who was knocked out, reported the robbery when he revived. As soon as there is more news, this station-"

"I'll bet it was the Briggin gang!" Bud declared.

"And I have a hunch how the robbery was carried out," Tom said. "We'll stop at the Farmington police station and show the captain that gimmick in the back seat. I'm sure it's a clue."