A
spectrographic analysis of the steels confirmed the theory. Their
metallurgical content agreed with known Brungarian steel formulas.
"The sneaky rats!" Bud cried out. "Well, at least we know now who
sabotaged our missile recovery."
As Tom paced about the office, Bud added, "What do you suppose they were
using the caisson for?"
"Probably as a base for some heavy, rotating search equipment," the
young inventor surmised.
"But why ditch it?"
Tom shrugged. "An optimistic guess is that they spotted our Navy search
force and pulled out quickly, fearing a surprise attack."
"What's a pessimistic explanation?" Bud asked.
"Mission completed," Tom said grimly. "No need for them to stick around
if they'd already snagged the missile."
Bud scowled at the thought. "Oh, no! That mustn't be true!"
Tom plopped down at his desk, frowning. "Bud, I've been itching to get
to work on a non-detectable sub, like the one that attacked us. But
maybe it would be smarter to get a line on Mirov's pals first."
"You mean down in the South Atlantic?"
Tom nodded. "I'd sure like to know if they found that missile."
"You and I both, pal!" Bud agreed. "Hey! We could use the electronic
hydrolungs for scouting around!" he added eagerly.
"I intend to," Tom said. "But we'll need speed to cover the area.
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