Swift on the line.
After speaking to him briefly, he passed the phone to Bud so the
scientist could identify his voice.
"That's Bud Barclay, all right. He's one of our most trusted employees,"
Mr. Swift told the chief after hearing Bud's story.
The officer promised to release Mel and Bud at once. Before doing so,
however, he took them into the adjoining office where the two frogmen
were being questioned.
"Any luck?" the chief asked the sergeant.
Sergeant Gryce shook his head in disgust. "Not much. They did admit they
came in a sub, but they claim it didn't wait to pick them up."
The police chief shot a few questions of his own at the men, but they
answered either in curt monosyllables or not at all.
"Look, sir," Bud put in, "if they're telling the truth about their sub
not waiting, our jetmarine may have chased it. That means Mel and I are
stranded here. Could you have your men wait for us on the beach till we
find out?"
"Gladly," the chief replied. "You two have done a fine day's work."
After the prisoners had been locked up to be handed over to the FBI, the
two Beach Patrol officers drove Bud and Mel back to the area where they
had landed. Just as the jeep turned down the dirt road leading to the
shore, Bud's keen eyes spotted a lurking figure in the distance.
"Stop, please!" Bud said, tapping the driver on the shoulder.
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