CHAPTER X
TELEPHONE CODE
As he regained consciousness, Tom's eyes fluttered open. Sparks of painshot through his head. A groan escaped his lips.
"Oo-o! What hit me?" Tom wondered.
He was lying on a sofa in a strange room. Someone was seated nearby,watching him. Tom tried to move his limbs and sit up. Then he discoveredthat his wrists and ankles were tied with sash cord.
"Better lie still, sonny boy," a gruff voice advised. "You ain't goin'nowhere."
The man who had spoken got up from his chair and came over to the sofa.He was of medium height, very muscular looking, with cold, glitteringeyes. Rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed his powerful, hairy arms.
"Where am I?" Tom asked, suddenly remembering the events on the roadbefore he blacked out. "And what's this all about?"
The man said with a mirthless grin, "You're a prisoner. And you're goin'to stay here until the cops let Dimitri Mirov go. It's up to you howfast they spring him."
The huge man lifted a telephone from an end table adjoining the sofa andset it on the floor alongside Tom.
"Here's a phone. Go ahead and use it, but don't try any funny stuff."
In spite of his headache, Tom's brain was racing. What to do now? Heshut his eyes and screwed up his face in an expression of pain,pretending to be still groggy while he stalled for time to figure outhis next move.
"How can _I_ get Mirov out of jail?" Tom faltered.
"You figure it out!" the man snarled. "And you'd better get results ifyou want to stay healthy!"
Through half-slitted eyes, Tom noted the telephone number printed on thedial. Evidently his captor had not thought to remove it from theinstrument. A lucky break!
If only, Tom thought, he could devise some way to transmit the number toAmes without arousing his captor's suspicion--the phone's location couldthen be traced!
What about some sort of double-talk code? For instance, Tom toldhimself, keep slipping numbers into the conversation in order totransmit the digits of the telephone number. Would Ames catch on?
The number shown was BArwick 3-7156. BA on the dial would be the same as"2, 2."
"Come on! Quit stalling!" the man said threateningly.
"How can I dial with my hands tied?" Tom objected.
"I'll do the dialing, wise guy!"
He lifted the phone from its cradle and extended it to his prisoner. Tomtold him the Enterprises number, then asked for Ames's extension as theswitchboard operator answered. A moment later the security chief's voicecame over the line.
"Ames speaking."
"This is Tom Jr., Harlan." His captor bent close to the receiver as Tomreplied, in order to overhear what was being said. "I've been thinking,"the young inventor went on, "that it might be smart to have Mirovreleased."
"_Released!_" Ames gasped in surprise. "But why, skipper?"
"Well ... er ... as a good-will gesture," Tom said. "I think it mightprevent future trouble with the Brungarians, don't you?"
"I do not!" Ames exploded. "The idea sounds crazy!"
"I don't think it's _too_ crazy or _too_ risky," Tom argued. Byemphasizing the words, he hoped to impress them on Ames's mind.
_"Come on! Quit stalling," the man threatened_]
Tom's tone of voice and the farfetched nature of what he was saying hadalready triggered the security chief's suspicions. "Where are youcalling from?" Ames asked after a tense pause.
"Shopton," Tom replied. "I just drove in for a haircut." With a chuckle,he added, "Haven't had one in _three_ months. That's a whole _week_longer than I usually go!"
Would Ames understand that by "week" he meant _seven_ days?... "_It'sthe best I can do_," Tom thought.
"Look, skipper, are you sure you want Mirov let out?" Ames said slowly."I still think it's unwise."
"Consider it an order!" Tom snapped. "This is _one_ thing I insist upon,Harlan. Shouldn't take more than _five_ or _six_ hours, should it, evenif he has to wire the Brungarian Embassy to put up bail?"
"It can probably be handled faster than that--if he has any friendsaround town," Ames said.
Tom took the cue. "Could be," he replied meaningfully.
Tom's captor snatched the phone away and slammed it back on the hook."All right, smart boy! That's enough!" he growled, glaring at Tom.
Back at Enterprises, Ames hung up thoughtfully. Tom's reply to his lastquestion about Mirov having "friends around town" had convinced Amesthat the young inventor was a prisoner, speaking under duress. Moreover,it had seemed as if someone else's breathing was faintly audible in thebackground, close to the phone.
_But what message had Tom tried to convey?_
As a routine security-department precaution, Ames's phone was connectedto a recorder which automatically taped all calls. Now, while hepondered the problem, Ames pressed a foot-treadle switch to play backthe conversation.
Meanwhile, Tom and his captor waited tensely. From time to time thelatter glanced at his watch. "Better hope that call does the trick,Swift," he muttered. "It's the only hope you got of leavin' here alive!"
"How will you know if they've turned Mirov loose?" Tom asked. He waswondering if he might persuade his captor to let him make a second call.
"Don't worry. Mirov knows how to contact me."
Half an hour dragged by--then forty minutes. Suddenly the door buzzerrang sharply. The man jerked to attention, obviously startled. Heglanced at Tom, then toward the direction of the sound, moistening hislips nervously.
"He must have been expecting just a phone call," Tom decided.
The buzzer shrilled again. This time the man got up from his chair,gagged Tom hastily with a handkerchief, and went to the door.
"Who's there?" he asked loudly.
"Mirov! Let me in, Duffy!" replied an accented voice from outside.
With a look of relief, Duffy started to open the door--then froze as hesaw not only Mirov, but two police officers and Ames accompanying him.
"Are you the one who's going to put up bail?" one of the officersdemanded.
Duffy floundered, scenting danger but unable to pick up any clue fromMirov's face. "Why--uh--yeah, maybe. How much is it?"
"Ten million! Can you raise it?" Ames snapped sarcastically.
As Duffy gaped in confusion, the officers suddenly flung their weightforward. The door flew open and Duffy was thrown back, almost losing hisbalance. Beyond, through the small vestibule, Ames caught a glimpse ofTom on the sofa.
"There he is!" Ames shouted.
Moments later, Tom was untied. Mirov and Duffy were handcuffed together.
The young inventor shook hands joyfully with his rescuers. "Nice going,Harlan! Boy, I was sweating icicles here, wondering if you'd be able todecipher all my double talk!"
"You made the numbers clear enough," the security chief said with agrin, "but it took a while to guess what they stood for. And then, ofcourse, we had to trace the address through the telephone company."
Eying the ugly bruise on Tom's forehead, Ames added, "Sure you're allright?"
"Right now I feel swell!" Tom declared, chuckling. He told of hiskidnaping, while one of the officers took down the details.
The prisoners were taken off to jail in the police squad car. Tom andAmes, meanwhile, in the security chief's high-powered sedan, drove tothe scene of Tom's capture.
They found his sports car badly damaged. The right side was wedgedagainst the utility pole, which was leaning at a crazy angle.
Ames whistled and shook his head. "Boy! You're lucky you got off withjust a bruise, Tom!"
"You're telling me," the young inventor agreed ruefully.
After calling a repair garage to send out a wrecker, they drove to theSwifts' home. Mrs. Swift and Sandy, previously unaware of Tom's plight,were horrified to hear what had happened. The sight of Tom's bruise alsoupset them.
Tom did his best to allay their concern, but finally allowed himself tobe hustled up to bed. Dr. Emerson, the Swifts' family physician, wasimmediately summoned to the ho
use. He pronounced the bruise not serious,but advised that Tom remain quiet, at least for the rest of the day.
Bud came to visit the young inventor that evening, just as Sandy wasbringing up a tray. On it was a sizzling T-bone steak.
"Wow! Wish I could have that kind of service," Bud said jokingly. Thenhe became serious. "I'd sure like to meet that creep who snagged you,Tom. What a fiendish trick! You realize you might have been killed?"
"I realize it, all right," Tom said wryly.
The next morning Tom felt no ill effects from his grim adventure andinsisted upon driving to Enterprises. He phoned Admiral Walter, whosereport was bleak--the searchers had still gleaned no trace of the buriedmissile.
Refusing to be discouraged by the news, or lack of news, Tom went to hisprivate laboratory and applied himself once again to the problem ofbuilding an "invisible" submarine. But again success eluded him.
At last Tom shook his head in disgust. "May as well get that haircut Istarted out for yesterday," he decided.
Before leaving, Tom phoned Phyl Newton to thank her for the gift offruit and nuts she had brought over the previous evening after learningof his dangerous experience. They chatted for a while and wound up bymaking a date for lunch.
Tom drove back to town in the family car and got a haircut. Then hepicked up Phyl at her home and took her to the yacht club. Here theylunched on the terrace overlooking the sparkling blue waters of LakeCarlopa.
The young inventor's spirits were high when he finally returned to hislaboratory and buckled down to work.
"I'll lick this problem yet," he muttered. "Those enemies of ours areclever, but if they can produce an undetectable sub, there's no reasonwhy I can't do the same."
Deep in thought, Tom idly fingered a microphone on his workbench.
"In fact," the young inventor mused, "why not go them one better? I'llinvent a submarine that's not only invisible to sonar, but equipped to_see them_!"