Part 20 (1/2)

”Sure! A whale hunt, maybe!” Arv Hanson wisecracked, trying to lighten the gloom.

Tom forced a grin, but he remained heavy-hearted as they neared the base. His only hope now was that a radio message from the jetmarine might have been picked up while they were gone.

As soon as the seacopter was moored, Tom leaped ash.o.r.e. The crewmen on the docks had no news to report, so Tom piled into a jeep with Arv and sped off to the Fearing communications center. Hank remained aboard the _Sea Hound_ to secure all gear.

Churning along the graveled road, Tom and Arv pa.s.sed the launching area.

Huge, needle-nosed cargo rockets and the mighty s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p _t.i.tan_ loomed against the sky. Tom's moon-voyaging _Challenger_ and his more recent s.p.a.ce craft the _Cosmic Sailer_ were also based there.

”Going to alert the Navy for a search?” Arv inquired as they reached the communications building.

Tom nodded and braked the jeep to a screeching halt. ”Coast Guard too.

They can pa.s.s the word to commercial s.h.i.+pping to be on the lookout.”

A telephone rang as he hurried into the office.

”For you,” the clerk said, looking up at Tom. ”Nice timing!”

Tom grabbed the phone. His face widened into a grin. ”Bud! You seagoing jet stream! What happened?”

Arv grinned, too, in relief.

”Your antidetection gear worked so well we vanished right out of the ocean!” Bud replied with a chuckle. Turning serious, he reported how his jetmarine had trailed the mysterious intruder and how he and Mel had captured the two Brungarian frogmen and their sh.o.r.e contact.

”Nice going, pal!” Tom exclaimed.

”But here's the catch,” Bud went on. ”When we took off again in our hydrolungs to go back aboard s.h.i.+p, the jetmarine was gone!”

”Maybe she's trailing the enemy sub,” Tom conjectured.

”That's what I'm hoping,” Bud said uneasily. ”Trouble is, our subs aren't armed, and who knows about that Brungarian job? The way they sling missiles around, anything could happen if she spots the jetmarine.”

Tom frowned. ”I'll organize a search right away. Where are you calling from?”

”Police headquarters at Sandbank.”

”Okay. Take it easy, and I'll send a whirlybird to pick you up,” Tom promised.

”And don't forget some clothes,” Bud added with a chuckle. ”Mel and I are getting chilly.”

”Right!” Tom hung up and gave Arv Hanson a quick briefing.

Then he phoned the base airfield to dispatch a helicopter. He also contacted the nearest Coast Guard station and put through a long-distance call to Navy Headquarters in Was.h.i.+ngton to request help in searching for the jetmarine. Finally he and Arv headed back to the submarine docks in the jeep.

A flurry of activity followed as Tom detailed s.h.i.+ps for the search and rounded up crews. He was interrupted by a phone call in the loading shed. It was the control-tower operator.

”One of our drone planes has spotted a sub approaching, skipper,” the operator reported.

”What bearing?” Tom demanded excitedly.

”One-seven-six.” Tom was about to hang up and grab a pair of binoculars when the operator added hastily, ”Wait! It's responding to our radio challenge!... That's ours, all right!”

Tom dashed out of the shed and scanned the sea to the southward. Sure enough, a jetmarine had surfaced and was speeding toward the sub docks.