g a lonely wooded area,
not far from Lake Carlopa. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted as a
man stepped out from among the trees ahead and gestured with his thumb
for a ride.

"Sorry, mister," Tom reflected, "but I've had trouble with hitchhikers
before!" He shook his head to let the man know that he did not intend to
stop.

To the young inventor's amazement, the pedestrian deliberately stepped
onto the road--squarely in the path of Tom's oncoming car!

Tom jammed on the brakes, and the silver sports car screeched to a stop.
Only a quick twist of the wheel had prevented an accident!

Somewhat angrily, Tom exclaimed, "What's the big idea, mister? Don't you
realize you might have been--"

"Shut up!" the stranger snarled. In an instant the man had yanked open
the door and climbed in beside Tom.

"Take me inside the grounds of Swift Enterprises," he commanded in a
foreign accent. "And no tricks or you will regret it!"

CHAPTER III

REPORT FROM INTERPOL

Tom, astonished, stared at the stranger.

"Who are you?" the young inventor demanded.

"Never mind who I am. Just do as I say!"

By this time Tom had recovered from his surprise and coolly sized up his
enemy. The man was about thirty years old, with close-cropped black
hair. Steely eyes glinted in a lean, hard-jawed face.

Tom wondered, "_Should I risk a fight? Or is he armed?_"

As if in answer, the stranger growled, "I gave you an order, my friend.
Don't press your luck! Get going!"

As he spoke, the man thrust one hand deep into his coat pocket, and Tom
felt something hard poke against his ribs.

The young inventor drove on, but proceeded slowly. He wanted time to
think. Presently Swift Enterprises, enclosed by a high wall, came into
view.

Tom's brain was working fast. At last he decided on a ruse. He would
head for the main gate, get out, and use his electronic key without
waiting for the guard to admit him. At the same time, he would press a
secret warning bell to alert the Swift security force.

But the stranger seemed to read his thoughts. As Tom started to turn off
toward the main gate, his passenger snapped, "Go to the private gate
which you and your father use!"

"And if I refuse?"

Again the hard object poked into his ribs. "You will be what you call in
this country a dead duck!" the stranger warned. "I will then let myself
in with your key!"

Tight-lipped, Tom drove on another half mile, then turned in at the
private gate.