"I warn you, Swift!" he choked. "Jailing us will not make you safe--or
your projects, either!"
A blow to the head from "Captain Smith" sent Mirov reeling back against
the wall. "Fool! Maybe that will quiet you!" the pilot snapped
viciously. "You have said too much already!"
"Let's go, Tom," said Ames. "We've learned the information we came for."
The prisoners could only glare in baffled rage through the cell bars as
Tom and the security chief turned their backs and walked away.
"Nice going, Tom," Ames murmured. "Your hunch certainly paid off." Chief
Slater added his congratulations when he heard how Tom had trapped Mirov
into disclosing his identity.
Both Tom and Ames were grave as they drove back to the plant. Neither
took Mirov's threats lightly.
Tom pondered another angle. Were the Brungarian rebels perhaps
responsible for the attempted theft of the Jupiter-circling missile?
Ames was inclined to think so. "Moreover," he forecast, "it's a cinch
they haven't thrown their last punch. I'll pass the word to the FBI and
Central Intelligence."
After lunch Tom flew to Fearing Island with Bud, eager to tackle their
interrupted job of rooting the space plants into the undersea silt beds.
Zimby Cox, a sandy-haired, freckle-faced jetmariner, volunteered to
pilot a motor launch for them.
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