CHAPTER XIII
ENEMY FROGMEN
At the end of the test period, Bud had prepared to bring the jetmarineto the surface. But just as he was about to blow the ballast tanks, MelFlagler sang out a warning from the sonarscope.
"Whoa! Hold it, skipper! I think we have company on the starboard beam!"
Bud jerked his head around in surprise. "You mean the _Sea Hound_?"
"No, she surfaced," Mel reported. "Can't make this out yet, but it couldbe another sub."
Bud turned the controls over to Zimby Cox. Then he rushed to the scopeand examined the blip. "Seems to be moving away from us on a westerlycourse. It's about two miles from here."
He donned the hydrophone earset and listened. "It's no seacopter, nor ajetmarine either," he announced presently.
"A Navy sub, maybe?" suggested Zimby.
Bud shrugged. "Let's find out." He ordered a change of course, hard tothe right, and gunned the jets to bring the jetmarine directly on themystery object's trail.
"It's a sub, all right," he said a short time later, listening againover the hydrophones.
"Pretty close to Fearing Island, isn't it?" put in Mel Flagler. "That'sa government-restricted area."
Bud nodded grimly. "But staying just out of sonar range from the base."
The jetmarine closed steadily on its quarry. In a few minutes they wereable to make it out dimly through the cabin window, dead ahead.
"That's sure no U.S. Navy sub that I know of," Bud said. "Probably anenemy snooper."
"What if they spot us?" Zimby asked.
Bud chuckled. "That's the beauty of it, pal! Don't forget. With this newantidetection gear we're invisible to them. At least as long as theydon't run into us or we into them," he added.
"Or unless they have superdetection equipment we don't know about,"cautioned Mel Flagler.
As they talked, the unidentified submarine was bearing steadily towardthe mainland. Fathometer soundings showed it was on a steep upward slopeof the continental shelf.
Presently a foaming gush of bubbles showed that the sub ahead wasblowing its tanks. The jetmarine followed as it surfaced and Bud hastilymanned the periscope.
"What're they up to?" Mel asked tensely.
"Don't know yet, but the hatch is opening," Bud reported. Suddenly hegave an excited gasp. "Jumpin' jets! They're sending out a couple offrogmen!"
Bud's companions were electrified by the news.
"Spies!" Zimby exclaimed.
"What do we do now?" piped up Mack Avery, the third man in Bud's crew."Hadn't we better radio the Coast Guard and the FBI?"
Bud wrenched away from the eyepiece. "I have another idea! Any of youfellows game to go with me and capture those spies?"
All three of his companions volunteered eagerly. Bud chose Mel Flagler,then took another sight through the periscope.
"The sub's submerging again," he reported. "That'll give us a clearfield. Zimby, you and Mack keep an eye on that baby while we're gone,and be plenty careful she doesn't spot you!"
"Roger! And take this roll of wire to tie up your prisoners."
Hastily Bud and Mel changed into swimming trunks and donned hydrolungs.They went out through the air lock, plunged into the bracing salt water,and switched on their ion-drive units.
"Can you see 'em?" Mel asked over his mike.
"Not yet. Let's speed up before we lose 'em completely!"
Both pushed their ion drives to capacity, scanning the water ahead inall directions.
"There they are!" Bud exclaimed presently. He pointed to two tinyfigures, barely visible in the distance.
"Wow! They're sure not wasting any time!" Mel muttered. "Let's step onit, Bud! They'll be ashore in a minute!"
A darting school of sea bass screened the figures briefly from view. Asthe fish flickered past, Mel and Bud saw the frogmen breast-stroke uptoward the surface and break water.
Bud and Mel followed. Ahead lay a barren stretch of beach, humped withsand dunes. It was skirted beyond by a thick fringe of trees.
"They certainly picked a perfect spot for a sneak landing!" Bud thought.The beach seemed totally deserted, with no sign of human habitation.
By this time, the frogmen were scrambling ashore. Within moments, Budand Mel were on their heels. The raiders whirled in dismay as theycaught the sound of footsteps rushing up behind them through the sand.
Bud and Mel hurled themselves forward, each dropping a man with a flyingtackle. All four went down in a struggling, kicking tangle of arms andlegs.
The battle was rough but short. Bud and Mel had the advantage ofsurprise, and soon pommeled and grappled their foes into submission.
Bud, astride his opponent's chest with knees pinning the man's arms,unlooped from his belt the wire he had brought.
"Here! Take some of this and wire your man's wrists together!" Bud toldMel.
When the frogmen were safely bound, Bud and Mel allowed them to standup. Neither captive tried to escape.
"Now, my sneaky friends, talk!" Bud snapped. "What kind of a sightseeingtrip did you plan?"
The frogmen's jaws remained tightly clamped. Both looked flushed andsullen 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 Brungarianrebels! 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 nearestpolice 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 officershopped 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.
"We just nailed these two Brungarian frogmen," Bud explained. "A sub putthem ashore--probably as spies or saboteurs. They won't talk to us, butmaybe you can pump them at headquarters."
The startled sergeant turned a cold eye on the two prisoners. "Gotanything to say for yourselves?" When neither answered, he unholsteredhis revolver and covered them. "Better take off those wires and putbracelets on them, Mike," he told his fellow officer.
The frogmen were handcuffed with cool efficiency and bundled into thejeep. Meanwhile, the sergeant turned back to Bud and Mel.
"You fellows come along too," he ordered.
"But we haven't got time," Bud protested. "Our own sub's waiting rightoffshore and we want to tail the sub that brought those guys here!We're from the Swift rocket base."
"Any identification?" the sergeant asked.
"How _could_ we have in this getup?" Mel retorted.
"That's what I thought. So get moving," the sergeant barked.
Reluctantly, Bud and Mel hopped onto the running board and clung to thebouncing jeep as it sped to the nearby town of Sandbank. At headquartersthey were questioned by the local police chief.
"If you'll call Swift Enterprises at Shopton, sir, Mr. Swift--or HarlanAmes of the plant security department--will vouch for us," Bud said.
The chief picked up the telephone and soon had Mr. Swift on the line.After speaking to him briefly, he passed the phone to Bud so thescientist 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 frogmenwere being questioned.
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"Any luck?" the chief asked the sergeant.
Sergeant Gryce shook his head in disgust. "Not much. They did admit theycame 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 theyanswered either in curt monosyllables or not at all.
"Look, sir," Bud put in, "if they're telling the truth about their subnot waiting, our jetmarine may have chased it. That means Mel and I arestranded here. Could you have your men wait for us on the beach till wefind 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, thetwo Beach Patrol officers drove Bud and Mel back to the area where theyhad landed. Just as the jeep turned down the dirt road leading to theshore, Bud's keen eyes spotted a lurking figure in the distance.
"Stop, please!" Bud said, tapping the driver on the shoulder.
As the jeep halted, Bud pointed toward the beach. A man was crouchingbehind a sand dune, with a large fish basket beside him. The sergeant,puzzled, took out a pair of binoculars to study the situation.Fortunately, the jeep was still screened by trees, and the crouching manevidently did not realize he had been seen.
"What's in the basket?" Bud asked. "Could it be clothes?"
"Sure looks like it," the sergeant said, passing over the binoculars.
After a brief look, Bud explained the hunch that had occurred to him."I'll bet that guy's waiting with clothes for the frogmen. He probablygot here late and doesn't realize they've been nabbed!"
"Well, he'll soon find out," the police driver said grimly. He was aboutto start up the jeep when Bud stopped him again.
"Wait! You have no proof that's what he's here for," Bud pointed out.
The pilot suggested that the police keep out of sight while he and Melapproached the man in their swimming gear. "If that stranger takes thebait, we'll really have the goods on him!" Bud concluded.
"Smart idea, son," the sergeant said with a dry chuckle. "Go to it!"
Bud and Mel circled widely through the trees, took a quick dip in thewater, then approached along the beach as if they had just landed andwere searching for someone.
To their delight, the man rose from behind the sand dune and hailedthem. Bud and Mel hurried over to him.
"You have clothes for us?" Bud asked. "We just came ashore from thesub!"
"Yeah, right here," the man said in English with no trace of an accent."Thought I'd missed you."
"Thanks, pal--that's all we want to know!"
The man gaped in comic dismay as Bud pounced on him and pinned him tothe ground. Moments later, the two police officers rushed up andhandcuffed him.
"Hey! What's the big idea?" the man stammered. "I ain't done nothing.Just got a phone call this morning, offering me fifty bucks to bring twosets of clothes down to the beach at five o'clock for a couple ofdivers."
"Tell that to the FBI!" snapped the sergeant.
When the officers had departed with their new prisoner, Bud and Mel,both grinning, dived into the surf and headed out to sea.
In a few minutes they were sure they were at the right spot to meet thejetmarine. But it was gone!