Tom Swift and His Deep Sea Hydrodome by Victor Appleton II Page B

approached the edge of the immersion pool—as large and deep as a conventional swimming pool—and gazed down into the clear water. "Oh dear, we’ve made a mistake. This isn’t salt water at all. It’s some kind of acid! Can’t you smell it? Well, I guess we’ll— ohhh!" Arms whirling, she tumbled into the water with what was calculated to sound like a dire shriek.
    Bashalli approached her floundering friend. "That was hardly convincing, Sandra. I recommend that you keep your day job."
    Sandy responded by splashing her crony. "You’re just heartless. Come in—it’s a little cool but not too bad. Like the ocean. Oh—switch off the lights first."
    Bashalli complied, then used the railed steps to slip gracefully into the pool. The only light in the lab came from some illuminated dials on the control board. That was fine with the girls. They intended to lie in wait for Tom in the water, then pop up with a banshee cry when the young inventor switched on the lights.
    Alert to any sound of their quarry at the door, they played catch with the beanbag, which was designed to float in the water. There were many misses, but their eyes slowly became accustomed to the relative darkness.
    "Where do you suppose he is?" asked Bashalli after many minutes had crept by.
    "Oh, I don’t know. You know Tom—always saving the world. Here!" Sandy sent Bashalli a long, high toss. But she had badly miscalculated: it arced over the Pakistani’s head and whapped against the framework tower with a loud clang!, flopping down onto the control board next to the tower.
    A string of tiny lights flickered to life on the console.
    "Sandra, I am not so sure Tom will be delighted with our prank," murmured Bashalli nervously.
    "We just have to shut it off again," asserted Sandy with much more confidence than she felt.
    Suddenly both girls gasped in surprise. A strange sensation swept over them, a sort of tingling pressure on their skin. "Sandy! I—I’m—"
    "Me too!" cried Sandy Swift in alarm, stumbling backwards along the pool bottom.
    Some unknown force was pressing down upon them like a great invisible weight, as if trying to push them under the water!
    Choking, badly frightened, the girls fought against the smothering force, trying desperately to keep their heads up above the waterline. Feet flat on the bottom they pushed upward with their legs, summoning all their strength. Even so, they could barely withstand the downward pressure. Barely able to keep their faces above water, in minutes they would crumple from fatigue—and drown!
    They emitted several screams, but the effort sapped their strength.
    "B-Bashi, I’m so—so sorry I—" Then Sandy slipped down another inch and her mouth was beneath the water. Bashi was already immersed to just above her nostrils. She thrashed and struggled for breath.
    The lab door opened a crack, then wider. Dazzling sunlight slanted through the room, cut off almost instantly as the door was pulled quietly shut. The girls tried to cry out to the figure, but the effort was useless; they could only manage muffled whimpers as they struggled to stay conscious, to not abandon the fight to live. Their shoulders ached from the dead weight of their arms and hands, forced down to their sides.
    The figure did not bother to take a glance at the two pale ovals in the black of the pool. His face covered by a pull-down ski mask, he strode purposefully across the floor to Tom’s invention. He paused as if examining it. Then he reached deep into a pocket and withdrew a length of heavy pipe.
    Swinging in a wide, vicious arc, the intruder attacked the machine with a savage fury!

CHAPTER 8
TELLTALE THREADS
    SANDY SWIFT was swimming upstream.
    The stream was as wide and as long as a river, and it angled upwards into the sky. She could see through its glassy sides easily. Shopton was below— there was the house; there was Commerce Avenue—but becoming tiny and distant as she mounted higher. The horizon was curving, but the