behind, in the shadow of the trees. You can hear the ocean just about anywhere on Fearing, so I figured he wouldn’t hear me tailin’ him.
"So he turns off onto this little footpath. Just dirt, you know? But it goes zigzag, and I lost sight of him quickly.
"The path comes out right near the water, big rocks all over the place. I look around—so where is he? Now I was majorly curious. I spent a while skulking around, thinking I’d see him. Man, I just had to know what he was up to!"
"I know the feeling," remarked the young inventor dryly, with a wink at Bud.
"All of a sudden I hear splashing. I look out toward the ocean and there’s this black thing sort’ve bobbing around out there. I made out pretty quick that it was the head and shoulders of a guy in one of those frogman suits! He ducked down under the water—and that’s the last I saw of him."
"A frogman," Bud repeated. "Jetz, he could’ve been sneaking back and forth between the island and a boat—maybe even the mainland!"
Tom’s response was skeptical. "We’re pretty well guarded here on Fearing. You’ve got the radar mini-drones circling overhead at all times, and an automatic-alarm sonarscope system keeping watch for underwater intruders."
"I don’t know about the sonar stuff," the worker replied. "But as far as the patrolscope radar, employees all have those anti-alarm amulets, like the three of us are wearing."
"True. Are you absolutely sure the man you saw walking was an employee?"
"Oh yeah, absolutely." Forman cleared his throat. "And I know his name, too. Herb Nelson!"
CHAPTER 13
THE FRIGHTENED FROGMAN
THE CONFIRMATION of Nelson’s involvement—in something !—was disturbing. "Good night, the whole project group could be some sort of cover operation," Tom murmured.
"I can’t believe Aciema Musa is in on it," Bud objected. "Neil, are you pretty sure the frogman was the same as the guy you followed?"
Forman shrugged. "No—that’s why I held back saying anything. I never did see the swimmer come back out of the water. I had to get back to my shift. But I’ll tell you this, Nelson still goes out for his little stroll every night."
Tom rubbed his chin for a moment, taking it all in and holding back a sigh of bemused frustration. "It may sound a little lame to say, We shouldn’t be hasty —but we shouldn’t be. Innuendos hurt people. We’re not going to start off making any accusations against Nelson or Aciema, or anyone. It’s all conjecture. But you did us a good turn by telling us your story, Neil. It’s all very—interesting."
"I know it’s more than that, Mr. Swift," said the worker. "Whoever that frogman was, he was breakin’ every security rule in the book!"
"You’re right," Tom replied. "And now we have to catch him at it."
After midnight, the moon slivered and still low, a black shape stood among the rocks on the Fearing Island shore, shedding his outer clothes and concealing them carefully. He pulled on his frogman togs and scuba gear and slipped under the easy surf.
In the waters, a half-mile distant, another dark shape hovered like a lurking predator. "Still nothing on the scope," muttered Tom Swift.
"As expected," Bud observed. "Even our porpoise-squeak sonar can’t pick him up."
Tom nodded. "Which means he’s using sophisticated antidetection gear—the same kind we’ve run into before. But it won’t defeat the tracker."
The youths were submerged in a compact sea vehicle of Tom’s invention, called the SnooperSub . The name was apt: the sub was equipped with a remarkable snooping system, Tom’s aquatomic tracker, which would allow the young inventor to follow the trail of distinctive molecular traces left in the water by any object passing through it. Touching the controls, Tom said quietly, "Let’s close in a little. The currents are running a little slow today—we’ll have to hunt down the ones with the atoms."
The Snoop’s silent propulsion setup inched them forward, yard by yard, in the
"So he turns off onto this little footpath. Just dirt, you know? But it goes zigzag, and I lost sight of him quickly.
"The path comes out right near the water, big rocks all over the place. I look around—so where is he? Now I was majorly curious. I spent a while skulking around, thinking I’d see him. Man, I just had to know what he was up to!"
"I know the feeling," remarked the young inventor dryly, with a wink at Bud.
"All of a sudden I hear splashing. I look out toward the ocean and there’s this black thing sort’ve bobbing around out there. I made out pretty quick that it was the head and shoulders of a guy in one of those frogman suits! He ducked down under the water—and that’s the last I saw of him."
"A frogman," Bud repeated. "Jetz, he could’ve been sneaking back and forth between the island and a boat—maybe even the mainland!"
Tom’s response was skeptical. "We’re pretty well guarded here on Fearing. You’ve got the radar mini-drones circling overhead at all times, and an automatic-alarm sonarscope system keeping watch for underwater intruders."
"I don’t know about the sonar stuff," the worker replied. "But as far as the patrolscope radar, employees all have those anti-alarm amulets, like the three of us are wearing."
"True. Are you absolutely sure the man you saw walking was an employee?"
"Oh yeah, absolutely." Forman cleared his throat. "And I know his name, too. Herb Nelson!"
CHAPTER 13
THE FRIGHTENED FROGMAN
THE CONFIRMATION of Nelson’s involvement—in something !—was disturbing. "Good night, the whole project group could be some sort of cover operation," Tom murmured.
"I can’t believe Aciema Musa is in on it," Bud objected. "Neil, are you pretty sure the frogman was the same as the guy you followed?"
Forman shrugged. "No—that’s why I held back saying anything. I never did see the swimmer come back out of the water. I had to get back to my shift. But I’ll tell you this, Nelson still goes out for his little stroll every night."
Tom rubbed his chin for a moment, taking it all in and holding back a sigh of bemused frustration. "It may sound a little lame to say, We shouldn’t be hasty —but we shouldn’t be. Innuendos hurt people. We’re not going to start off making any accusations against Nelson or Aciema, or anyone. It’s all conjecture. But you did us a good turn by telling us your story, Neil. It’s all very—interesting."
"I know it’s more than that, Mr. Swift," said the worker. "Whoever that frogman was, he was breakin’ every security rule in the book!"
"You’re right," Tom replied. "And now we have to catch him at it."
After midnight, the moon slivered and still low, a black shape stood among the rocks on the Fearing Island shore, shedding his outer clothes and concealing them carefully. He pulled on his frogman togs and scuba gear and slipped under the easy surf.
In the waters, a half-mile distant, another dark shape hovered like a lurking predator. "Still nothing on the scope," muttered Tom Swift.
"As expected," Bud observed. "Even our porpoise-squeak sonar can’t pick him up."
Tom nodded. "Which means he’s using sophisticated antidetection gear—the same kind we’ve run into before. But it won’t defeat the tracker."
The youths were submerged in a compact sea vehicle of Tom’s invention, called the SnooperSub . The name was apt: the sub was equipped with a remarkable snooping system, Tom’s aquatomic tracker, which would allow the young inventor to follow the trail of distinctive molecular traces left in the water by any object passing through it. Touching the controls, Tom said quietly, "Let’s close in a little. The currents are running a little slow today—we’ll have to hunt down the ones with the atoms."
The Snoop’s silent propulsion setup inched them forward, yard by yard, in the
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