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the message gave precise latitude and longitude figures. It went on: RUIN OF SWIFT PLACE IN ONE WEEK.

Tom and his father gasped in dismay. "I thought the New York-New England Quakelizor was going to protect us!" the young inventor exclaimed. "Our enemies must have located another earth fault with Enterprises right in its path!"

Hastily opening an atlas, Tom fingered the location of the proposed source of attack. It was Balala Island off the coast of Peru.

"Dad, that settles it!" Tom declared grimly. "It's clear now that those Brungarian rebels want to destroy us and use Exman in some way to conquer the earth!"

"I don't doubt that you're right, son," Mr. Swift said grimly. "We must act fast! But how?"

Again, the signal bell interrupted. This time, Exman gave a number of military details, evidently picked up from orders issuing from Brungarian rebel headquarters. They concerned incoming troop movements from the north and operational plans for crushing out the last pockets of resistance by loyal government forces.

Tom recorded them with TV tape, then snatched up the telephone and called the Central Intelligence Agency in Washington. He relayed the information from Exman and asked if American agents could transmit it to the loyalists.

"Don't worry. We'll see that it reaches them," the CIA chief assured Tom. "Many thanks. This could have important consequences."

As Tom hung up he decided on a bold move. "Dad, I'm going to lead a raid on Balala!"

"A raid!" The elder scientist was electrified.

"According to the atlas, the island is barren and deserted," Tom said, "so no friendly power will object if we land there. If it's being used as an enemy base for quake attacks against our country, we have every right to investigate. I might be able to learn the secret of the setup—perhaps even put the equipment out of commission."

"Nevertheless, a raid by a United States force could lead to trouble if the base there puts up any resistance," Mr. Swift said gravely.

"That's why I intend to handle it myself," Tom declared. "I'll take all responsibility."

Tom Sr.'s eyes flashed as he recalled some of his own hair-raising exploits in younger days. "All right, son," he said, putting a hand on Tom's shoulder. "I know I can trust your judgment. Good luck!"

Again Tom issued a call for volunteers. Bud, Hank Sterling, Arv Hanson, and Chow were all eager to take part. Within an hour they were taking off for Fearing. At the rocket base, they embarked in the Sea Hound, Tom's favorite model of his diving seacopter. A powerful central rotor with reversible-pitch blades, spun by atomic turbines, enabled the craft to rise through the air or descend into the deepest abysses of the ocean. Propulsion jets gave it high speed in either medium.

Loaded with equipment, the Sea Hound streaked southward through the skies—first to Florida, then across the Gulf and Central America into the Pacific. Here Tom eased down to the surface of the water and submerged.

It was near midnight when the Sea Hound rose from the depths just off Balala. The lonely rocky island lay outlined like a huddled black mass against the star-flecked southern sky. No glimmer of light showed anywhere ashore.

"Maybe no one's here," Bud murmured.

"Don't bank on that," Tom said. "They wouldn't be apt to advertise their presence to passing ships or planes."

Tom nosed inshore as closely as he dared from sonar soundings, finally easing the Sea Hound up to a rocky reef that fingered out from the beach. Then he, Bud, Hank, and Arv clambered out, armed with wrecking tools and powerful flashlights.

Chow, in spite of his muttered grumblings, was ordered to stay aboard and guard the ship with the other two crewmen who had come along.

Tom led his party cautiously ashore from the reef. They probed the darkness of the beach. Their footfalls sounded eerily in the night silence, broken only by the soughing of the sea wind and splash of breakers.

"Good place for spooks!" Bud whispered jokingly.

A steep draw led upward among the rocky slopes. A hundred feet on, Tom's group found the black yawning mouth of a cave. The yellow beams of their flashlights revealed a tunnel leading downward inside. Tom checked with a pocket detector. Its gauge needle showed no field force caused by electrical equipment in operation.

"Okay, let's go in!" Tom murmured.

Cautiously they moved into the tunnel. Then suddenly ahead of them a powerful dazzling light burst on, nearly blinding the searchers!

CHAPTER XIX A FIENDISH MACHINE

A chill of fear gripped Tom and his companions as they blinked helplessly in the glare! Had the enemy detected them the first moment they had set foot on Balala Island? Had they walked blindly into a trap?

Gradually Tom's eyes and those of his friends adjusted to the dazzling radiance. A door, blocking the tunnel just ahead, had slid open and the light was pouring out of a room beyond.

"What happened?" Arv gasped.

Tom pointed downward to a pedallike plunger inserted in the tunnel floor. "This must be a switch," he explained. "When I stepped on it accidentally, it must have opened the door and flashed on the lights."

Bud whistled. "Wow! Let's be thankful it wasn't a booby trap!"

"Maybe it is," murmured Hank grimly.

Steeling their nerves, and with every sense alert, the searchers advanced into the secret room.

Tom suddenly gave a cry of amazement. "The earthquake machine!"

A huge hydraulic device, with massive steel bed and supporting pillars, looking somewhat like the enormous body presses found in automobile plants, stood embedded in a recess in one wall.

Tom rushed to the machine and examined it in fascination. A powerful diesel generator stood nearby with banks of complicated electrical equipment, amid a spider-web tangle of wiring. Tom assumed this gear was for timing and synchronizing the shock waves. Evidently the whole setup was operated from a single control panel in the wall, studded with knobs and dials.

"What a job of design!" Tom exclaimed in awe. His eyes roved over every detail of the equipment while he poked here and there with his hands. He was getting the "feel" of the setup almost as much by touch and handling as by his superb technical intuition. "Boy, I hate to admire anything those Brungarian rebel scientists do, but this is really masterful!"

"Yes? Well, don't go ga-ga over it," said Bud. "Let's do what we came to do and scram out of here. This place makes me jumpy!"

Tom appeared oblivious. "It seems like vandalism to wreck such an engineering achievement! Also, and this may sound strange to you," he went on in a doubtful tone, "are we really justified in taking the law into our own hands?"

"They're trying to wreck our setup, aren't they?" Bud retorted. "Think of the destruction they've caused already! Do you want to stand by and see Enterprises destroyed too?"

"Bud's right," Hank Sterling spoke up quietly. "Take a look at this."

He beckoned them over to another corner of the cave and pointed to a series of notations, crudely scrawled in white chalk on the cave wall. Half hidden behind a clump of rock, they would have escaped casual notice.

Tom read them and gave an angry gasp. A list of places and dates, already checked off, showed the quakes that had occurred so far. The last notation, not yet checked, said: SWIFT ENTERPRISES and was dated five days ahead.

"Okay, that's all the convincing I need!" Tom said grimly.

He issued quick orders. Hank and Arv were to rush back to the Sea Hound, get an underwater pump from the gear carried aboard, and install it just off the beach. From there, they were to run a pipe line up into the cave, using special plastic tubing which hooked together in a jiffy.

"Cover the piping with sand and gravel, so it won't be noticed," Tom added. "In the meantime, Bud and I will go to work on this setup here."

"Aye-aye, skipper!" Hank and Arv responded.

As they hurried out through the tunnel, Tom and Bud set to work with the tools they had brought along. The diesel was partly dismantled, sand poured into its fuel feed, and the generator windings ripped out. The boys then tore off and tangled all wiring leads to the electrical equipment, took apart much of the equipment itself, and smashed the control panel.

"Boy, if those Brungarian creeps get this setup working again, they're really geniuses!" Bud said as he and Tom paused a second.

"This is only the beginning, pal!" Tom said. "Let's tackle the machine!"

The huge earthquake device was a far more difficult proposition to disable. Its heavy structural parts had to be disassembled or pried apart, one by one. Both boys were streaked with sweat as they finished.

By this time, Hank and Arv had the piping installed halfway into the tunnel. Spurred on as if by a sixth sense of danger, Tom told them to go back to the beach and get the pump working while he and Bud connected the few remaining pipe lengths into the machine room.

Minutes later, their job done, Tom and Bud rushed out to the mouth of the cave and waved their flashlights. Soon the water could be heard boiling through the pipeline. It gushed out with a roar, flooding the machine room.

"Let's go!" Tom cried, yanking Bud's arm.

As they reached the beach and joined Hank and Arv, Tom's keen ears picked up the drone of a plane somewhere in the darkness.

He gave a yell of alarm and pointed skyward. A ghostlike jet came zooming into view, boring straight toward them. All four broke into a mad dash for the seacopter.

They were halfway out on the reef when the plane leveled out of its dive with an earsplitting whine.

"Hide!" Tom shouted, fearing a bomb might be dropped.

(Tom and friends are attacked by a ray gun from an airplane)

All leaped for cover among the rocks. At the same instant, a fiery beam like a bolt of lightning shot from the plane. It seared the spot on the reef they had just vacated!

"A ray gun!" Bud gasped.

The plane's speed had already carried it far past the island. Before it could maneuver around for another pass, Tom and his companions were on their feet, racing for the safety of the Sea Hound.

They were aboard and clamping shut the hatch lid as the jet made its second pass. This time its fiery ray glanced harmlessly off the seacopter's Tomasite sheathing. Seconds later, the Sea Hound had darted off beyond reach into the ocean waters.

"Whew! We really broke all speed records that time!" Arv panted.

The others looked at him with wan but triumphant grins. Then they began to speculate on what the beamlike bolt was, who was in the plane, and if their enemy knew who Tom's group were.

Dawn was streaking the sky when the seacopter arrived at Fearing Island. The adventurers flew back to Enterprises at once. Tom and Bud snatched a few hours' sleep in the apartment adjoining Tom's laboratory.

Later in the morning the whole group gathered in Tom's laboratory to recount the raid to Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames. A bell signal from the electronic brain brought them rushing to the decoder. Grim news awaited them. The message said:

EXMAN TO SWIFTS. YOUR ENEMIES ARE NOW SURE I AM SPY. THEY PLAN TO DESTROY ME.

"No! It mustn't happen!" Tom cried in dismay. "Dad, I'll rescue him myself!"

His words were greeted with shocked protests from the others.

"Don't be crazy!" Bud said. "You wouldn't have a chance!"

"It would be suicide!" Arv Hanson declared.

Chow grabbed his young boss by the arm. "Brand my cayenne pepper, before I'd let you make a blame fool move like that, I'd rope an' hawg-tie you myself!"

Ames interjected the most convincing argument.

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