Chapter 13 Tom Swift and His Airline Express by Victor Appleton
AN OMINOUS MESSAGE
Curious, indeed, was the chance, coincidence, or fate—call it what you like—which brought Tom Swift on the scene, in company with Mr. Knowlton in the runabout, just as the bomb which Ned tossed away exploded near the lumber pile. Tom and his friend felt the force of the blast, but, aside from a stunned feeling and the shock, they were unhurt, and after a momentary stopping of the car Mr. Knowlton sent it on again.
But Tom was anxious to know what had happened; hence his cry as he saw the flash and heard the blast so near his plant and his volley of questions as soon as Mr. Knowlton brought the car to a final stop. And Ned, hearing his friend’s cry, first marveled and then rejoiced.
“Tom! Tom!” he shouted. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” was the answer. “But what happened? Is my father all right?” There was so much smoke from the bomb that Tom could not see far ahead, especially as it was now dark.
“Your father is all right—he’s back home with Mary,” Ned informed Tom, as the latter got out of the car to limp toward the entrance gate near his private office. “And the plant isn’t damaged. Come in and I’ll tell you about it.”
“Are these your friends? Are you sure everything is all right?” asked the cautious farmer, as he saw Tom preparing to go in through the big gate in the high fence. One of the men had hastened to open it when it was certain that Tom was outside.
“Yes, everything is all right,” was the answer. “This is my factory—my friends are here. But my enemies have been trying some of their tricks. Luckily the tricks didn’t work. But don’t go,” begged Tom. “I want you to meet Ned Newton and my father. He’ll want to thank you for aiding me—for bringing me back here.”
“Oh, shucks! That wasn’t anything!” expostulated Mr. Knowlton. “Anybody would have done the same. I won’t stop now. I’m in a hurry to get back home—my wife will be worried. But she’ll be glad to know you got here safe and found your friends. Come out and see us some time.”
“I will,” promised Tom, and then as his benefactor drove away, Tom and Ned rushed toward each other to shake hands, while Mr. Damon brought up the rear, murmuring:
“Bless my insurance policy! Bless my rubber boots! If this isn’t most astonishing!”
“Are you all right, Tom?” demanded Ned, anxiously looking over his chum. “But you’re hurt!” he cried.
“Only a sprained ankle,” explained Tom, who was hobbling about. “I had to jump out of a window. But is Dad all right? What was that explosion?”
“One of the bombs you warned us about. We found four—this was the fifth and just about to go off. I fired it away not a second too soon. It chewed up some of your spare lumber. I guess it’s the last. But where have you been? After the first message of yours we didn’t know what to think until you telephoned again that you were on your way in. What’s it all about?”
“Trouble, I guess,” answered Tom. “Some gang is after me and the new airline ideas and patents. They’re desperate. Wait until I ’phone to the house to let Dad and Mary know I’m all right, and then I’ll explain. Why, hello, Mr. Damon!” Tom exclaimed as he saw his eccentric friend. “Did they get you over here to hunt bombs?”
“He overheard some talk which gave us an idea of the desperate men who were after you,” stated Ned. “He came over in a hurry, and——”
“Too much of a hurry, I guess,” broke in Mr. Damon, in rather crestfallen tones. “I smashed up your mooring mast, Tom.”
“That’s a small matter—easily mended. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. I’ll tell you everything in a few minutes.”
Tom limped into his office and soon was conversing with his father and then, at more length, with Mary. They were rejoiced to learn that he had escaped and was safe. Then began the telling of the two-sided story—the events leading up to the explosion of the bomb Ned had hurled away just as Tom arrived.
Tom related how he had seen the strange man disappear behind the bush, how he had followed, had gone down the secret steps, and how he awoke out of a doped stupor to find himself a prisoner. Then he told of being taken to the lonely house and how he had escaped.
Ned, in turn, related their anxiety when Tom did not come home, and told how they had searched for him before and after the arrival of Mr. Damon.
“We sure were glad to hear your voice over the wire,” Ned stated. “But somebody cut us off.”
“No, I fainted,” Tom explained, “and Mr. Knowlton or his wife hung up the receiver without trying to carry on the talk, which, if they had done, would have told you everything. But the doctor soon pulled me around and the only thing really the matter with me now is this swollen ankle. But that will soon go down and then I’ll get after these fellows and finish work on my airline express. Now tell me where you found the bombs.”
Ned did, stating that one had been found near Tom’s office.
“Well, there may be more bombs,” Tom said. “I won’t be satisfied until we have gone over all this plant again. We can’t afford to take chances. But I’ll move my airline express models and patent papers—that is, the preliminary ones—to a place of safety in my Chest of Secrets.”
This was done, and then another careful search was made of the premises. No more bombs were found and Tom announced his intention of going home to get some much-needed rest.
“But how do you suppose, with all your guards, Tom, and the electrical fence, those fellows planted the bombs?” asked Mr. Damon.
“I don’t know,” replied the young inventor. “I’m afraid there is treachery somewhere in our working force. Without the aid of confederates those plotters couldn’t have put the bombs in here. I’ll have to make an investigation. But for the present the danger is past, I think.”
They were all in need of rest and quiet after the exciting two days through which they had passed, especially Tom, and when he reached home Mrs. Baggert insisted on putting him straight to bed, in which place, to tell the truth, the young inventor was not at all averse to spending some time.
The following day things had rather quieted down at the plant. The resulting débris was swept up, and the shattered lumber pile, devastated by the bomb, was examined for remnants of the infernal machine. Several pieces of cast iron were picked up, and Tom said he would investigate them to try to discover, if possible, where the bomb was made. It appeared to have contained no missiles, being merely a hollow shell filled with explosives, set to go off at a certain time, and Ned had hurled it away not an instant too soon.
“The first thing we’ve got to do,” decided Tom, a few days later, when he was able to be about without his crutch and with much of his former energy restored, “is to investigate that secret stairway. Maybe some of the fellows are still on Barn Door Island.”
But the delay, short as it was, had given the plotters time to vanish and to destroy some of their work. The stairs were in place, but after tearing up the planks, after the soil had been swept away, there was revealed only a blind passage. The tunnel had been caved in a short distance from the secret steps and it was impossible to traverse it.
The same conditions prevailed on Barn Door Island. The place where Tom had emerged from the tunnel was found, but a short distance back in the passage dirt and rocks were piled up, preventing a further examination being made.
“Maybe they’re walled up in the tunnel under the lake,” suggested Mr. Damon.
“Not likely,” Tom said.
“They probably cleared out after their bold plan didn’t succeed,” Ned remarked.
“Yes, they’ve gone for a time,” Tom admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s forever. They’re still at large and they won’t give up so easily. I’m afraid for the success of my airline express plans. But I’m going to work on them.”
That Tom’s fears were well grounded was borne out a few days later when, as the young inventor sat at his desk, his private telephone rang. Tom’s own instrument had a number not in the book and was known only to a few. Unless this number were given to the central operator Tom’s ’phone bell would not ring.
But ring it did on this occasion, and over the wire came this ominous message:
“Look out for yourself, Tom Swift! We’ll get you yet!”