United States or Bahrain ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
As soon as his business was concluded, Hartson Brant planned to drive to Steve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scotty for a vacation on the houseboat. There was plenty of room. The Spindrift was thirty feet long and ten feet wide, and had two cabins. Four could sleep in the forward cabin, and two amidships where the galley, dinette, and bath were located.
The likeliest possibility is that he wanted to continue using it as a massage machine, because he made a little money with it. I never knew an espionage agent who didn't need money." Steve looked at Rick. "I'm a little surprised at one thing. Why didn't the Spindrift twins suspect foul play when Hartson Brant ran over something in the speedboat?" It was Rick's turn to be embarrassed.
"I don't know, Rick." Hartson Brant turned to Winston. "Do you?" "No. I have only a hypothesis, and one so far afield from what we know of the brain today that I even hesitate to suggest it. Let me ask a question.
If so, scratch it, for heaven's sake. You are squirming so, I can see only a blur through the corner of my eye." Hartson Brant came to his son's rescue. He looked at Dodd. "May the boys be excused? I'm sure this discussion will be of no value to them, and probably they have some things they would like to do." Dodd nodded. "If you decide to leave the vicinity, let Sam know."
McDevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned with tropical flowers. He shook hands cordially. "You're Hartson Brant's boys. We've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. When Barby and Jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning." Rick grinned. "Somebody loses, somebody wins.
And we must also accept that they have some means of creating a mental block by remote control." Rick stole a glance at Parnell Winston. The cyberneticist was sitting quietly, his bushy eyebrows knitted thoughtfully. Winston hadn't said a word. Hartson Brant paced the floor as he went on. "We now have one slight bit of additional information that supports the theory of enemy interference.
Come on, sir. No time to waste!" Hartson Brant kissed Mrs. Brant and the girls, found time to pat Rick's shoulder, and climbed in. Rick took the suitcase from Barby and handed it to the scientist. The door closed and the plane was whirling, catching them in its prop blast. Mike taxied back fast to the laboratory, turned the plane and revved up, holding on the brakes.
His eyes were on the slip of paper in his father's hand. "Dad, what is it? Where are we going?" "Read it aloud," Hartson Brant suggested. He handed Rick the slip. Rick scanned it quickly. It was a telegram that his father had taken over the phone. Rick's pulse quickened. Dr.
"'You can fly down and land right at the Millers'. We have shown on the map where to land, and we will put out white towels to make a panel so you can see us from the air. Please hurry. Barby and Jan." "Sounds pretty urgent," Hartson Brant said with interest. "Anything else?" "Yes, sir. There's a postscript from Dr. Miller.
A strange, dark-haired man was standing in the hallway, and his mother, Barby, and Jan were waiting for him with strained white faces. "Your father has been hurt," Mrs. Brant said with false calm. "He's on this gentleman's houseboat!" The Vanishing Mermaids Parnell Winston worked as Hartson Brant described his experience. "There really isn't much to it," Mr. Brant said.
Word Of The Day