When the frogmen were safely bound, Bud and Mel allowed them to stand
up. Neither captive tried to escape.
"Now, my sneaky friends, talk!" Bud snapped. "What kind of a sightseeing
trip did you plan?"
The frogmen's jaws remained tightly clamped. Both looked flushed and
sullen as they faced their captors.
"Got their lips zipped, I guess," Mel said disgustedly.
Bud decided to try another tack. "Doesn't matter," he said carelessly.
"We know they're pals of the Mirovs."
Both men started as if they had been stung. Bud followed up quickly,
hoping to prod them into some unguarded remark.
"Just as we thought!" he snarled. "A couple of low-down Brungarian
rebels! And up to their usual amateurish spy stunts!"
The raiders' eyes blazed, but they maintained silence. Both, however,
kept darting looks of keen interest at the Americans' hydrolung gear.
Just as Bud was wondering how he could get the prisoners to the nearest
police headquarters, a jeep came bouncing into view across the sand.
"Hey! Police!" Mel exclaimed with a happy grin.
"We're in luck," Bud said. "They can take these creeps off our hands."
The jeep braked to a halt a few yards away, and two uniformed officers
hopped out.
"What's going on here?" said one, who was wearing a sergeant's stripes.
The jeep had the words BEACH PATROL stenciled on it in white paint.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101