"No use, Pins," said Tom. "We know who you are and right now you're cornered. There's no place for you to run. This door doesn't go up until the police are on the other side. They'll come as soon as I give Bud the signal to call them."

Tom paused. "But first, I want a few facts from you."

Zoltan leered contemptuously. "You'll learn nothing from me! You've got the wrong man. My name's Shan-"

"Come on, Pins. We took an X-ray of you." He showed Zoltan the photograph. "You can't escape. Now, tell me, who is the mastermind behind this move against us?"

Pins remained silent, glaring in hatred.

"Word got around that you and your gang had given up bank robbing," Bud put in, "but you pulled a beaut the other night."

"Who said so?" Zoltan demanded.

Bud did not answer. Instead Tom said, "What does the Briggin gang plan to do with my invention that they stole?"

Zoltan snarled and backed up to the fire door.

"Come on, Pins. Open up! Science once saved your life. What have you got against it?" Tom demanded.

"I'm not telling you anything, Tom Swift!"

Zoltan slid along the fire door, feeling for the control b.u.t.ton. His shifty eyes had a look of desperation. As Pins neared the release mechanism, Tom lunged toward him. But he was too late. The 82 .

door zipped up like a window shade suddenly released. Zoltan fell to the floor and rolled into the corridor.

"Oh, my back!" he screamed in pain.

Tom, moved by pity, ran to the crumpled figure. Bud barked an alert through the phone, asking for plant police and a stretcher. The guards arrived within two minutes.

Zoltan still lay on the floor, having refused first aid from Tom. Hatred blazed in his eyes.

"Take him to Shopton Hospital," Tom told the men. "I'll send the town police there."

As two of the guards lifted Pins to the stretcher, he screamed fanatically, "They'll get you, Tom Swift! The rest of the gang will get you!" He vanished into an elevator, flanked by his guards.

Bud mopped his forehead. "Tom, I'm scared," he said. "I've never seen such hatred on any man's face. When the Briggin gang hears what happened, your life will certainly be in danger."

"Don't worry," said Tom. "I've been in worse jams."

Nevertheless, the young inventor was worried as he and Bud drove to the Swift home. By morning, however, in the familiar surroundings of his own office, Tom regained his natural optimism. He had an early appointment with Phil Radnor to talk over again the possibility of a security leak among employees.

Tom sat staring into s.p.a.ce, thinking out the prob- DEAD-END TRAIL 83.

lem of combating the effects of radiation on the giant robot's television- camera eyes. He looked at the large silver model of the Flying Lab which stood on one corner of his desk. So absorbed was Tom, though, that actually he was paying no attention to it.

A sudden thud brought him back to reality. Radnor had dropped a stack of folders on the desk.

"Good morning," he said. "Well, here they are- all of them. Two thousand man hours of work, all for nothing. And no sooner do we finish our check than the disappearing worker returns. He'd taken time off-of all things-to elope! Had a leave coming to him, so he just up and took it." As Tom grinned, Radnor concluded, "The fellow had nothing to do with an information leak. Completely innocent."

"Then we're back where we started." Tom sighed.

"Right," said the security man. "A false lead all the way. We'll just have to begin tracing new suspects. Well, I'll be on my way."

His exit coincided with the arrival of Sandy Swift and they chatted for a few minutes. After the security officer left, she perched on the edge of her brother's desk.

"Tom," she said, "we were interrupted last night when I was telling you about my wonderful idea." Sandy smiled, then continued, "How about taking Bud and Phyl and me along when you go out to the atomic energy plant?"

84 .

"I'm afraid not, Sis. Sony. You wouldn't be allowed inside." Tom reminded her of the strict security regulations, as well as the constant danger of exposure to radiation.

"I wouldn't want to go inside all that concrete, anyway," said Sandy. "Neither would Phyllis. So that's all right. We just want to see the interesting country around there.

"It's pretty barren," her brother said.

"I know that, Tom. Ever since Dad started the plant in co-operation with the government, I've been studying about the history and people of that area."

"The Indians, you mean?" Tom asked.

"Yes. There's a tribe not many miles from the plant. Phyl and Bud and I could spend our time visiting them and learning more about their customs."

"It sounds okay so far," Tom said.

His sister went on in a coaxing tone. "In fact, there's a vague old Indian legend about a buried tribal treasure on top of Purple Mesa, a lonely, jagged- edged plateau not far from the Citadel."

"Why hasn't the treasure been removed if it really exists?"

"n.o.body's been up there because the sides of the plateau have been cut and eroded by sandstorms. They're too steep for climbing."

"And you think we should investigate the legend?"

DEAD-END TRAIL 85.

Tom asked, a twinkle in his eye. "I suppose we could always use some extra gold."

"Stop teasing," said Sandy. "The story might be true. Tom, we could drop down on the flat top of the mesa by helicopter."

"You certainly make it sound exciting," her brother conceded. "Tell you what.

If Mother says okay, we'll do it."

"Thanks. I'll ask her and the others right away. When do we leave?"

"I still have work to do on the robots. And the Sky Queen repairs haven't been completed yet." Then he laughed. "But cheer up, Sandy, we'll go as soon as possible."

As Sandy left, Tom reached for the phone and contacted the underground hangar. He spoke to the foreman.

"Do you think that the rest of the bent interior ribs can be torn out and new ones fabricated in half the time listed on the original work order?" Tom asked.

He was told that only the spraying of Tomasite might cause some delay.

"I'll have a couple of engineers from the high-polymer pilot plant come over to take care of that," Tom promised.

"Then we'll have the Queen ready in half the time," the foreman a.s.sured him.

An hour later Sandy called back to report that 86 .

both Mrs. Swift and Mrs. Newton had given consent to their daughters'

making the trip. Bud took the news of the impending jaunt with enthusiasm.

"I sure could use some of your buried gold, you old mesa pirate," he said, settling in a chair in Tom's office.

Tom laughed. "I'll give you half of all we dig up, brother buccaneer."

Presently the boys settled down to sober conversation. Bud had brought news that Pins Zoltan was greatly improved physically, but he was still sullen and uncommunicative. Nothing had been heard from the magician.

"We're getting nowhere solving the mystery of the crows and the stolen relotrol," he said.

"Maybe the gang has given up," Tom suggested.

"Don't be too sure," his friend advised. "By the way, are there any newfangled security methods being used at the Citadel?"

"No, but Dad and I decided to set up a drone aircraft protective covering over the plant," Tom told him. "With an air umbrella, we'll feel a lot safer about all the secret equipment and the power housing. I'm taking a drone plane along on our trip for a test run."

"Radio control should prove simple in that wide-open country," Bud remarked. "Well, I'm off to put the Skeeter through its paces, to be sure it's in good shape to go hunting for that Injun gold!"

Bud went off to test the Sky Queen's helicopter DEAD-END TRAIL 87.

and Tom did not see him again that day. The next morning Tom decided to walk to work. The sun was shining and he whistled happily as he took the back way through woods, across a stream, and onto an open road that led to the Enterprises grounds.

Suddenly Tom was conscious of a whirring sound in the air directly above him. Looking up, he found himself gazing into the poised talons of a mechanical crow that was swooping down upon him!

Tom dodged to one side of the road, just barely missing the bird's talons. He started to run, but his legs were no match for the crow's speed. Tom zigzagged like a broken-field runner eluding a football tackier, but the crow followed his every move.

Once its wings. .h.i.t him a glancing blow on the shoulder. Tom winced, rolled to the ground, and sprang to his feet again. The crow's talons cut a gash in his scalp. Tom grabbed the crow's left leg, but a second later it wrenched itself loose.

"So this is Zoltan's revenge," Tom thought, glancing wildly about for help.

The road was deserted.

Silently the crow dived again. Then, leveling off, its right wing hit the base of Tom's skull. He toppled over, unconscious.

CHAPTER 11.

STEEL SINEWS.

AT TOM'S OFFICE in Swift Enterprises there was confusion and consternation. Videophone, telephone, and short-wave radio calls were coming in one after another. To each Miss Trent would answer, "Tom is not here."

Sighing, she would reply to another.

"Central Seaboard, calling Tom Swift. Central Seaboard-" The same answer.

"Elheimer, West Coast ... do you read me? Do you read me?"

"Call back later."

"Rick Dalton to Swift Enterprises. Come in, Swift."

The trunk lines tangled and crossed. Buzzers rang incessantly throughout the main building, in the underground hangar, at all the testing laboratories in a search for the young inventor, but he could not be found.

88.

STEEL SINEWS 89.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Miss Trent to Marco, the elderly night watchman for the section. He was late going off duty. "It isn't young Mr. Swift's way of doing things. He doesn't place advance calls and not arrive to receive them. What could have happened?"

Marco frowned and shrugged as the secretary took a long-distance call from Tom's father, who was phoning from the atomic energy plant.

"No, Mr. Swift, Tom hasn't been in touch with the house since he left some time ago. I've tried there twice. They say he started out as usual. Just a minute, Mr. Swift. Here comes Bud Barclay."

Bud picked up an extension phone. "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Swift. Sorry, but we haven't located Tom yet. I've been searching the buildings and grounds. Sandy says he left for the plant over two hours ago. As soon as he arrives, I'll have him call you."

"I don't like this, Bud," Mr. Swift said, deep concern in his voice. "Call the house again. If Tom hasn't established contact, take out the bloodhounds and get on his trail."

"Right, sir," Bud promised, hanging up. He checked the Swift home again, but Tom had not called. Bud told Miss Trent the plan and hurried off.

Behind the Swift home were kennels which held Sandy's two prize bloodhounds. The dogs had already proven their worth in tracking down a few criminals.

90 .

In a moment Bud and Sandy had fitted long leather leashes to the collars of the hounds and were ready to start out. Sandy held a jacket of Tom's for the dogs to sniff, then she and Bud gave them full leash. The floppy-eared dogs yelped anxiously and tugged their masters along behind them.

Out the drive, across the road, and into the woods they ran with Bud and Sandy stumbling over rocks and logs. The trail led down the Stony Brook bridle path, across the main highway, back into the woods again.

"Tom sure took the back way!" Bud exclaimed, as the animals guided them.