Tom Swift and His Megascope Space Prober by Victor Appleton II Page B

for multiple uses."
    Leaving the industrial and concentrated residential areas behind, they came to the open countryside, taking an offramp onto a series of roads that progressively became narrower and less well-paved. The terrain also turned wilder, with low wooded hills bordering the road, and few houses.
    "Your installation seems to be in a rather out-of-the-way location," remarked Mr. Swift. Miss Furster made no comment.
    Presently she turned down a rutted dirt lane. After a few minutes of bumpy travel, she pulled up outside a startling structure that suddenly loomed up among the trees. It looked to the Swifts like a gigantic silver igloo!
    "Here we are, boys," Julia Furster said as she switched off the ignition and climbed from the car.
    On closer examination the odd-shaped laboratory revealed that it was built of some shiny plastic-like fabric material stretched taut over a score of arching strut-ribs whose contours showed through. Tom sized it up instantly—a temporary structure erected on a fixed foundation, more tent than building, light in weight but probably tough-skinned and fairly rigid.
    Tom glanced at Miss Furster, who seemed to be enjoying herself. "Quite a surprise to see such a place out here in the woods."
    She smirked. "You’ll find even more of a surprise when we go inside." Her tone was openly mocking. "Shall we?"
    They entered through a doorway that was almost like an airlock, a sealable flap set in a plastic frame. The Swifts’ eyes widened at the sight within—a full-scale laboratory and engineering workshop stocked full of advanced machinery and instruments. Furster came out with: "Well what do you know! As you can see, you two, this really is a lab. Like I said—surprise, surprise! Oh, and take a look at our work table to your left."
    Tom gasped. The table held a pair of Tom’s Private Ear Radios!
    Tom and his father heard a snickering laugh at their backs and whirled to face their host. Julia Furster was holding a gun! And that fact was not a surprise.
    "Do you suppose we can skip the comedy, now that I have you two genius boys covered?"
    "What’s the meaning of this?" Mr. Swift asked icily. "What are we to do, put up our hands? You said you were bringing us here to show us your company’s new radio."
    "We’ll have it soon, I trust," said "Big Bertha". "That is, assuming your inventorly skills don’t come highly overrated, as so many things are these days. And please don’t pretend you came here in all innocence, boys. You decided to take a risk, as we knew you would. Why do you think I gave you my fingerprints?"
    "And who is ‘ we ’?" demanded Tom.
    As if in answer, the door flap was pulled open and three more women entered, flanking Julia Furster.
    "I take it you’re the Women With Issues," pronounced the young inventor dryly.
    "You take it rightly," said one of the women with a deadly smile. "And now, Tom Swift—to work!"
    But Tom stood his ground and said, "We’re not going to do anything. You four may have ‘issues,’ but you’re not crazy. You can be sure Enterprises Security knows where we were headed today. We have fingerprints and a description. Kill the two Swifts and you won’t stand a chance against the worldwide outcry and manhunt!"
    "Manhunt? I’ll overlook your sexist terminology," declared Furster. "As for the rest, there’s killing, and then there’s killing . Guns can wound, painfully, and a few shattered bones here and there can make escape a discouraging proposition, even for a couple macho men like yourselves. So you’re going to be cooperative. And you know, it’s entirely possible—for the very reasons you say—that we’ll allow you to escape when the job is done. Naturally we’ll be long gone by then."
    Asked Mr. Swift scornfully, "Do you really think we’d have allowed ourselves to fall into your hands without making it possible for us to be tracked?"
    "You haven’t been tracked," the tall woman declared confidently. "It’s not just my