eathing heavily. Then he looked up at the
three Americans. "Your nation's capital, Washington, D.C., is going to
be blown up!" the Brungarian asserted.

His words struck like a bombshell. Chief Slater and John Thurston stared
at Narko in open-mouthed astonishment.

Then Slater scowled. "What a preposterous story! I suppose they're going
to fly a plane over and drop an atom bomb--just like that!" He snapped
his fingers.

Thurston was also inclined to doubt Narko's story. Any such bold move by
the Brungarians, he declared, would amount to an act of war.

"It is the truth!" Narko shouted. "Do not forget--you have made a
promise."

Tom Swift did not share Chief Slater's and Thurston's skepticism.
Narko's words had chilled him with dismay. He called the other two aside
and gave them a quick whispered briefing on the theory he had discussed
with the government scientists, asking them to keep it confidential.

If the Brungarians indeed had a means of producing artificial shock
waves, Tom pointed out, they could easily destroy Washington without the
slightest risk to themselves.

Both Thurston and Chief Slater were alarmed. Turning back to Narko, they
grilled him for clues. But it seemed obvious that the Brungarian was
telling all he knew--or, at any rate, all he intended to reveal.

"We're wasting our time," Thurston said finally, with a look of disgust.
"But I made a promise in the name of the United States government and
the promise will be kept."

Turning to Chief Slater, the CIA man added, "Turn him over to the FBI
and have them take him to New York. I'll arrange for a seat on the first
plane for Brungaria."

Tom drove back thoughtfully to Enterprises. Bud was waiting in his
laboratory with news.

"Your dad went from Washington to Fearing Island and has gone up to your
space outpost," Bud reported. "He has to do some experiments for the
government project he's working on."

The outpost was a space station which Tom Swift Jr. had built 22,300
miles above the earth. It was a production factory for his famous solar
batteries, and also an immensely valuable setup for space research and
exploration.

"Think I'll radio Dad and let him know what's going on," Tom decided.
"He may have some good suggestions. He usually does!"

Tom warmed up his private transmitter-receiver and beamed out a code
call through the automatic scrambler. Seconds later, the loud-speaker
crackled in response.

But just as the outpost op