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"He's wise," Hartson Brant agreed. "He also has a family. The other scientist does not. He's a crusty old bachelor who thinks the whole thing is nonsense and insists on staying right where he is." "How do we fit in?" Scotty asked. "You said you needed all of us." "That's right. I want to relocate the project at Spindrift." "Using the co-operative scientist as the basis for a new staff?"
Hartson Brant, an older version of his son, greeted the boy. "Come in, Rick. Parnell, the floor is yours." Winston motioned the boys to chairs. "Sit down. I called this meeting to make a proposal. But first, how are your bank balances? Fat or thin?" Rick considered. Most of his income, including his small salary as a laboratory assistant, went into his education fund.
It is only for the purpose of defining the problem. Ames said you had been briefed by Miller, so I will confine the briefing to my part of the project." Hartson Brant and Julius Weiss produced notebooks. Rick and Scotty relaxed as best they could in the uncomfortable chairs and prepared to listen.
Hartson Brant and Scotty were waiting in the library, standing before the great fireplace in which logs crackled merrily. Seated in the leather chair next to the Christmas tree was Parnell Winston, one of the leading staff scientists. Winston was a big man, with jet-black curly hair and great bushy eyebrows that hid merry blue eyes.
Their minds suddenly ceased to function." Hartson Brant leaned forward. "You mean they're unconscious?" Steve shook his head. "Not in the usual sense. It's as though all their thoughts and memories had suddenly been scrambled. Did you ever see a teletype machine in operation, particularly one that suddenly went haywire?" Rick had. "The news machine did that over at the Whiteside Morning Record.
"It's for you, Steve. From Washington. I plugged it in on the library extension." Steve excused himself. A few moments later he returned. "Hartson, I just took the liberty of ordering a scrambler placed on your phone switchboard, in case we need to hold any classified conversations between here and my offices. The phone man will install it today, if you have no objection."
Then, when they all sat down to lunch, his father effectively blocked discussion of it, and their new assignment, by talking with Dr. Gordon about mutual friends out West. Finally Mrs. Brant came to her son's rescue. "Now, Hartson, and you too, John. You've teased Rick and Scotty enough." Mr. Brant chuckled.
Hartson Brant, Rick's dad and head of the island scientific foundation, came into the kitchen in time to hear the last remark. "Can I listen too?" he asked. "With milk and doughnuts to help, of course." Rick personally poured the milk for his father and added doughnuts to the plate, just to save time. He couldn't admit it to Scotty, of course, but he was plenty curious in spite of his skepticism.
The houseboaters had done just the right things, including coming to Spindrift for help rather than bringing the scientist home in the slow-moving and rather uncomfortable pram. Instead, Hartson Brant had waited on the houseboat while one of the men brought the pram to the island with a request that someone follow him back in a more comfortable boat.
No one was seen near the launching pad between the time the rocket was fired and the discovery of the sketch on our return from the gunnery range." "Do you think this sabotage is the work of an enemy agent?" Hartson Brant inquired. John Gordon shrugged. "Perhaps. Yet we don't really think so. In the first place, an enemy agent would probably not leave a calling card.
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