Tom Swift and the Visitor From Planet X by Victor Appleton II

but nodded vigorously. "They don’t get any bigger than us! And we sure do plenty of important government work."
    Realizing that he had fanned the flames of alarm, Tom did his best to allay the others’ fears. But inwardly he himself felt apprehensive. Any large-scale sabotage plot would be almost certain to include Tom Swift Enterprises, America’s most daring and advanced technology research center.
    Chow broke the moment of worried silence. "Got me one o’ those idees o’ mine, boss—bosses," he said. "Y’know that Al feller who decked me out t’other night? Wa-aal, we never did figger what he was after. Mebbe he was workin’ for the quake-maker, you think?"
    "He didn’t have anything on him, Chow," Tom objected quietly. "Just that phony knife."
    "That’s so," conceded the westerner. "Jest seemed t’me like a funny co-incerdence." With a shrug and a thoughtful expression, Chow excused himself and headed for his "chuck wagon"—his kitchen.
    Watching his friend leave, Bud snapped his fingers. "But look Tom, the man did have something else on him, you said—that flyer about the nut group in Shopton!"
    Mr. Swift commented impatiently, "I can’t see the possibility of a connection. This ‘Informatics’ business is some sort of religious movement. If somehow—incredibly!—these quakes are being produced on demand, it would surely require technology of the most advanced kind conceivable."
    Tom said nothing. A trace of smile dawned on his lips as he looked at Bud. "Tell me something, flyboy. If I tell you not to play spy over at ‘Fort Shopton,’ just how guilty are you going to feel when you go and do it anyway?"
    The dark-haired pilot grinned at his best friend. "Oh, I always make a point of feeling extremely guilty."
    "Uh-huh." Tom’s look was mock-chiding but full of affection. "Be careful, pal."
    "Always. Want to go with me?"
    Tom shook his head. "Sorry. We’ve got an important visitor to prepare for!"
    Bud prepared for his afternoon spy mission by talking to Enterprises employee Sam Barker, whom Bud knew had been briefly involved with the Informatics movement in Portland. "I guess I’ve spent a lot of time and money over the years trying to ‘find myself’," Sam conceded, crinkling his brow.
    "Have you turned up yet?"
    Sam laughed. "Not so far! Still got all my phobias intact. But as for these Informatics guys—well, what should I say? The Portland crew was pretty harmless, mostly University kids earning commissions by signing up new members. Some of them are true believers, though. And believe me, you don’t want to cross ’em."
    "So I hear," Bud nodded. "But look, Sam... Is there any part of their process, whatever you call it, that might cause ordinary people to act strangely out in the, er, real world? Maybe do things they wouldn’t normally think of doing?—to prove themselves, or something?" Bud had in mind the peculiar incidents Captain Rock had mentioned, which Tom had told him about.
    Barker paused, a thinking-frown shadowing his forehead. "Now that you mention it, Bud, there is something they do that I’ve always been kind of curious about. It’s this weird thing they call ‘the higher plane.’ Persons who commit to the church are expected to go through a three-week series of really intense spiritual counseling sessions. Very confidential closed-door stuff; you know, ‘reveal your inner self’ and that jazz. Maybe they tell ’em the secrets of the universe or something. I never went for it. But after the series is over, a few of the participants are made what they call Prime Movers. I guess they have a special role in the Church, like deacons."
    Bud said slowly, "Yeah. It could be some sort of brainwashing! No wonder they don’t want anybody to talk about what goes on." The term Prime Mover stuck in his mind. Could mover somehow tie in to earth movements? —the violent kind?
    It’s pretty far-fetched, Bud mused as Sam left for his shift. Still, that’s the kind of