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Dimitri Mirov lost all control and burst into a volley of guttural Brungarian abuse. "I warn you, Swift!" he choked. "Jailing us will not make you safe or your projects, either!" A blow to the head from "Captain Smith" sent Mirov reeling back against the wall. "Fool! Maybe that will quiet you!" the pilot snapped viciously. "You have said too much already!" "Let's go, Tom," said Ames.
"We have not b-b-bungled!" he stuttered angrily. "Shut up, you fool!" their leader shouted. "Captain Smith" had leaped to his feet, quivering with anger. But it was too late. His cellmate, by answering to the name of "Mirov," had given away their nationality! Tom and Ames exchanged grins of triumph. "No doubt you recall what happened to Streffan Mirov," Tom went on, pressing his advantage.
In spite of his headache, Tom's brain was racing. What to do now? He shut his eyes and screwed up his face in an expression of pain, pretending to be still groggy while he stalled for time to figure out his next move. "How can I get Mirov out of jail?" Tom faltered. "You figure it out!" the man snarled. "And you'd better get results if you want to stay healthy!"
"Ten million! Can you raise it?" Ames snapped sarcastically. As Duffy gaped in confusion, the officers suddenly flung their weight forward. The door flew open and Duffy was thrown back, almost losing his balance. Beyond, through the small vestibule, Ames caught a glimpse of Tom on the sofa. "There he is!" Ames shouted. Moments later, Tom was untied. Mirov and Duffy were handcuffed together.
He therefore plotted their course to the South Atlantic carefully, and issued orders for the antidetection circuits to be switched off every half-hour for a position check. "Report to your ships," he now ordered. As Tom was about to leave base headquarters, Harlan Ames telephoned from Shopton. "Bad news, Tom. Dimitri Mirov has broken jail!" "Good night!" Tom stifled a groan of dismay.
"I've had Mirov transferred to a cell by himself," Chief Slater said as he took Tom back to see him. The prisoner, however, showed no eagerness to do so at Tom's arrival. He remained slouched on his bunk as the young inventor pulled a chair up to the cell bars. His only response was a slight curl of the lips. "Have you heard about my country's new submarine?"
He had also taken the amulet bracelet from Ames's jacket in a restaurant. Mirov himself had been given the bracelet after his jail break. Pulling back the sleeve of his frogman suit, he displayed it with a momentary smirk of pride. "I even got inside the grounds of Swift Enterprises and stole a plane that same night," Mirov boasted. Tom was startled. "How did you manage that?" "Very simple.
"I've been thinking," the young inventor went on, "that it might be smart to have Mirov released." "Released!" Ames gasped in surprise. "But why, skipper?" "Well ... er ... as a good-will gesture," Tom said. "I think it might prevent future trouble with the Brungarians, don't you?" "I do not!" Ames exploded. "The idea sounds crazy!" "I don't think it's too crazy or too risky," Tom argued.
"What is the use?" he muttered. "Again I have failed. My career is over now, just like my brother's." Tom seized the opening. "In that case, maybe you're ready to do some talking now." Mirov shrugged. "What do you wish to know?"
The man jerked to attention, obviously startled. He glanced at Tom, then toward the direction of the sound, moistening his lips nervously. "He must have been expecting just a phone call," Tom decided. The buzzer shrilled again. This time the man got up from his chair, gagged Tom hastily with a handkerchief, and went to the door. "Who's there?" he asked loudly. "Mirov!
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