"Right. Also the FBI. They're on the way right now to pick him up. Maybe
they'll be able to worm something out of him."

Tom spent the morning in routine work in the big double office which he
shared with his father in Enterprises' main building. It was equipped
with huge twin modern desks, deep-pile carpeting, and roomy leather
chairs.

Each of the two inventors had his own drawing board, designed to swing
out from the wall at the press of a button. Small scale models of some
of their most famous inventions were also placed about the office,
including a red-and-silver replica of Tom's first rocket ship, the _Star
Spear_; a blue plastic model of the jetmarine in which he had fought a
band of undersea pirates; and also a gleaming silvery model of Tom's
latest, unique space craft, the _Cosmic Sailer_.

Because of his father's absence in Washington, the burden of
administering the vast experimental station now fell on Tom's youthful
shoulders. Telephone calls, letters, and other detailed work occupied
him until noon.

Chow broke in, bringing a lunch tray with milk, a hot chicken sandwich,
and a chocolate eclair. Tom ate hungrily.

"Kind o' peps up the ole supercharger, eh?" said Chow, lingering to
chat.

"Sure does," Tom agreed.

"Wal, jest remember that, an' don't go missin' any meals--or sleep,