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In answer to Tom's questions, Mirov admitted that his group, composed of Brungarian rebel Navy men and rocket engineers, had sabotaged the returning Jupiter probe missile, hoping to obtain its data for their own use. Their key agent in America was the man who had posed over the phone as Lester Morris and masterminded the other attempts to kidnap Tom.
"Better hope that call does the trick, Swift," he muttered. "It's the only hope you got of leavin' here alive!" "How will you know if they've turned Mirov loose?" Tom asked. He was wondering if he might persuade his captor to let him make a second call. "Don't worry. Mirov knows how to contact me." Half an hour dragged by then forty minutes. Suddenly the door buzzer rang sharply.
That's a whole week longer than I usually go!" Would Ames understand that by "week" he meant seven days?... "It's the best I can do," Tom thought. "Look, skipper, are you sure you want Mirov let out?" Ames said slowly. "I still think it's unwise." "Consider it an order!" Tom snapped. "This is one thing I insist upon, Harlan.
Let me in, Duffy!" replied an accented voice from outside. With a look of relief, Duffy started to open the door then froze as he saw not only Mirov, but two police officers and Ames accompanying him. "Are you the one who's going to put up bail?" one of the officers demanded. Duffy floundered, scenting danger but unable to pick up any clue from Mirov's face. "Why uh yeah, maybe. How much is it?"
"Or should I say the late Streffan Mirov? Our last report was that he had been tried and condemned by your own government. Perhaps you can give us news of his fate?" The wavy-haired prisoner's eyes blazed with hate. "Grin while you can, Tom Swift! Because of you, my brother Streffan is now serving a long prison sentence! But I, Dimitri Mirov, will get revenge!"
Mirov inquired after Chief Slater left. Tom nodded curtly. "When are you going to build one?" Mirov prodded slyly. "Look!" Tom snapped. "You asked to see me. Here I am. What is it you want?" Mirov shrugged with a look of amusement. "To make a bargain with you," he replied casually. "I know the secret of that sub. Get me and my friends released and I'll give it to you."
That's enough!" he growled, glaring at Tom. Back at Enterprises, Ames hung up thoughtfully. Tom's reply to his last question about Mirov having "friends around town" had convinced Ames that the young inventor was a prisoner, speaking under duress. Moreover, it had seemed as if someone else's breathing was faintly audible in the background, close to the phone.
Mirov was allowed to change into dry clothes, then his hands were bound behind his back. When the water cleared, Tom and Bud ventured outside again. First they headed for Bud's jetmarine to reassure his crew. Here they learned that the mystery submarine had vanished. "Good riddance!" Bud exclaimed jubilantly. "They probably didn't even realize you had found the missile!"
"And what's this all about?" The man said with a mirthless grin, "You're a prisoner. And you're goin' to stay here until the cops let Dimitri Mirov go. It's up to you how fast they spring him." The huge man lifted a telephone from an end table adjoining the sofa and set it on the floor alongside Tom. "Here's a phone. Go ahead and use it, but don't try any funny stuff."
One man wavy-haired with penetrating dark eyes seemed oddly familiar. Why? Suddenly the answer hit Tom like a flash. He resembled Streffan Mirov, the brilliant Brungarian rocket scientist who had tried to oust Tom's expedition from the phantom satellite Nestria. Playing a hunch, Tom said to him, "You know what your government does to rebels and bunglers, Mirov." The man stiffened and paled.
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