"Appleton, Victor - Tom Swift Jr 10 - And His Ultrasonic Cycloplane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Appleton Victor)

detectives who had captured the prisoner.
"Sure-I'll spill the whole story!" Jake whined. "Just gimme a break at the trial,
that's all I ask!"
"We're not making any promises," snapped Chief Slater. "Those fingerprints
you forgot to wipe off the burglar alarm give us a clear-cut
24 ULTRASONIC CYCLOPLANE
case. But go ahead and talk, and we'll tell the judge you co-operated."
"Okay, okay. Whaddaya want to know?"
"Where's that statue you stole?"
"I ain't got it. I turned it over to the guy who hired me to pull the job."
"The guy who hired you!" Chief Slater glowered in surprise. "What do you
mean?"
"Just what I'm tellin' ya," Jake insisted. "This guy calls me on the phone the
other night, and offers me a nice little bundle of cash to snatch the statue from
the museum."
"Who was he?" Tom asked.
"Search me. I never even seen his face."
"Don't give us that!" growled Chief Slater. "You must have seen him when
you turned over the statue."
"Sure, but he was wearin' a mask. On top of that, he made me meet him
down by the docks where it was pitch black. I'm tellin' ya, this guy was plenty
cagey!"
The chief shot a puzzled glance at Tom. There was a brief silence.
"Do you think he's telling the truth?" the young inventor asked.
Ofie of the detectives shrugged. "Could be. We searched his rooms with a
fine-tooth comb and couldn't find any trace of the stolen statue. But Jake was
sporting a big bank roll."
Tom turned back to the prisoner. "Tell us anything you noticed about this
man who hired you."
DISTRESS SIGNAL 25
Jake knit his brows thoughtfully. "Well, he was about medium size. And I
figgered he might be some kind of foreigner."
"Why?"
"He pronounced his J's funny. Like for instance, he called me 'Zhake' instead
of Jake."
"Hmm. Not much of a clue," Tom commented, "but at least it's something to
go on."
"We'll follow it up," Chief Slater promised. After hammering a few more
questions at the prisoner, he nodded to the detectives. "Okay, take him away!"
Two days later, while Tom was busy in his private laboratory, perfecting the
new engine mounts, the phone rang. Answering it, he heard the urgent voice of
Swift Enterprises' electronics chief.
"This is George Billing, Tom. I'm in the radio room. Bud and Hank are in
trouble! They took off an hour ago for the return trip and ran into a terrific local
storm over the jungle."
A surge of fear swept over Tom. "Are you getting their signal?"
"Yes. They're on the air right now."
"Okay. I'm on my way!"
Slamming down the phone, Tom dashed outside to his jeep, sped to the
communications building, and raced upstairs to the radio room.