Tom Swift and His Repelatron Skyway by Victor Appleton II Page B

new Tomaquartz panes― "
    "It didn’t break through the window pane," murmured Tom’s father as he eyed the weapon, and then let his gaze backtrack along its half-glimpsed path. "It broke right through the wall !"
    He pointed to a ragged, palm-sized gap in the front wall of the room, which faced the little road that crossed in front of the well-protected Swift property.
    Jake Aturian joined his friend in examining the spear. "I’ve never seen anything quite like this," he stated.
    "Put that aside for now, Uncle Jake," Tom exclaimed suddenly. "The spear thrower may still be outside on the roadway—maybe even inside the hedge if he’s wearing one of the field-neutralizer coils!"
    Tom leaned the spear against the wall and dashed outside the house, Mr. Aturian following. Mr. Swift had already hurried to switch on the yard floodlights and in moments was unkenneling the Swifts’ two bloodhounds, Caesar and Brutus.
    Tom let the dogs sniff the spear to get the scent. But after loping about the grounds and a ways along the little-used road, the hounds gave up in whimpering bafflement.
    "The spear must have been hurled from a car that stopped and then drove along," Tom decided, mounting the front steps. "The thrower could’ve stood up on the hood to get a view over the top of the hedge."
    Mr. Swift nodded. "I believe I recall hearing one approach just before the alarm sounded."
    "Whoever threw it must have been someone of giant strength," said Uncle Jake in an awed voice as he eyed the distance from the street. "It penetrated one wall, and was buried inches deep in the next!"
    "It might have been projected by a powerful, specially designed spear gun," Tom conjectured. He continued the thought as they returned to the den and resumed scrutinizing the projectile. "And actually, it’s not all that tough to go through the wall—which is just the usual stucco and tar-paper setup. Much easier than through the Tomaquartz." He again picked up the spear and held it close. "I don’t know what sort of wood the shaft is made of, but it’s extremely light in weight. And I can barely nick it with my thumbnail."
    "I’m especially interested in the spearhead," stated Uncle Jake. "With all my metallurgical training, I don’t recognize that metal alloy. The point and edges are sharp as razor blades, even now, but feel how slick it is. As if coated in oil—but nothing is coming off on my fingers."
    Carrying the spear Tom led the way to his small lab-workshop between house and garage, where he examined the obsidian-black metal under a microscope. He then analyzed its molecular composition with a hand-held spectroscanner. "It’s uncoated machined metal, all right, but not a type I’m familiar with. Are you, Uncle Jake?"
    "Not offhand."
    But Tom’s father said, "I believe I know what it is. It’s an alloy—expensive and very difficult to produce—developed for use by hypersonic jetcraft and spacecraft to cope with air friction. As I recall, it tested out as impractical. But― " Damon Swift added with a chuckle, " hardly what I would expect to find at the business end of an African tribal spear!"
    "A rare synthetic alloy," Tom mused. Why did the idea ring a bell with him? "Dad, do you recall who developed it?"
    "Hmm. A European firm—Dutch, I think."
    "Might it have been Afro-Metals, Ltd.?"
    "Why yes, that’s the one! How did you make the connection, Tom?"
    Tom shrugged. "The whole thing’s connected to Ngombia somehow. Mr. Kwanu mentioned Afro-Metals as the firm working with the government—Dutch!"
    After telephoning Harlan Ames and the police, Tom turned to his father. "Dad, you don’t think we should give up on this project, do you? If someone’s targeting the family― "
    "No," said Mr. Swift. "We’ll decide about the project on its own merits, son. I’m opposed on principle to yielding to threats. Your mother has always felt the same way."
    " And Sandy! " called a voice from the next room.
    Tom gave his father a warm