Tom’s only response was a fresh burst of speed.  Gunning the jet motors, he sent the big cargo ship arrowing forward at supersonic velocity.

“There they are!” Bud cried suddenly.  He pointed to a cluster of silvery glints in the sky at seven o’clock.

Tom zoomed downward into a billowing cloud bank.  It was a feeble hope and Tom knew it.  His only real chance now was to outrun or outmaneuver the marauders.

The slim hope faded as they emerged from the cloud cover moments later.  The enemy planes were not only still dogging them, but closing in rapidly.  Sleek, needle-nosed attack ships, they appeared to have seaplane hulls.

“Wow!  Those are new ones!” Bud gasped.

“Our last warning to Swift jet!  Hit the water or be shot down!” came the enemy voice.

Tom raced along, his mind searching frantically for a method of escape.

Bud switched off radio power momentarily.  “If we’re going to be hijacked, skipper, let’s ditch your invention before it’s too late!”

Tom shook his head stubbornly.  “Why should I let those pirates bulldoze us?  Actually, I think they’re after Exman!”

This last thought was a hunch that had just occurred to Tom.  It was clear that their foe had learned about the arrival of the energy from space.  “But so far,” Tom reasoned, “there’s no cause to suppose they know anything about the quake deflectors.”

Stalling for time, Tom switched on the radio again and spoke into the mike.  “Swift jet to attack planes.  Our home base is picking up every word of your threats.  Shoot us down and America will consider it an act of war!...  Care to risk it?”

There was a moment’s silence, then a reply.  “War, you say?  How can there be a question of war?  War against whom?  You do not even know our national identity!”

“Don’t kid yourselves, mister!” Bud put in with a snarl.  “We know, all right, and so does United States Intelligence!”

Tom decided to risk a blunt query, without actually giving away any facts, in case his hunch about the Brungarian’s knowledge was wrong.

“There was a phone call to Swift Enterprises last night,” he radioed.  “We know it was a fake.  We also know your agents are aware of our visitor....  Right?”

After a pause, the enemy spokesman replied, “Perhaps.  If so, what then?”

“Just this,” Tom radioed back.  “If you’re hoping to meet our visitor, you’re out of luck.  I’ll give you my word for it.  Do you think we’d risk such a valuable character in an unguarded crate like this?”

Tom and Bud looked at each other.  Somehow, both boys felt instinctively that Tom’s words had struck home.  The enemy had certainly risen to the bait.

Finally came the reply.  “You Swifts have a reputation for scrupulous honesty.”  There was a slight sneer in the speaker’s voice as if he considered this a foolish weakness.  “You give me your word of honor that this—­er—­character is not aboard?”