ur questions?"

Tom walked over to the electronic decoder brain and began to tap out a
message on the keyboard. The others waited in breathless suspense.

CHAPTER XV

KIDNAPED!

The message which Tom signaled in code over the electronic brain said:

WE HAVE A DANGEROUS PLAN. IF PLAN WORKS, YOU MAY BE EXPOSED TO
ENEMY TAMPERING. WILL THIS BE SAFE? CAN YOU STAND THIS?

There was a tense pause. Then the signal bell rang on the machine and
the keys began to punch out a reply on tape:

NO ONE CAN ALTER THIS BRAIN NOR CAN THEY CHANGE ITS PURPOSE.
THEY CAN ONLY DESTROY THE ENERGY HOLDER.

As Tom finished reading the message aloud, Chow gave a whoop of delight
and the whole group burst into spontaneous cheers.

"Terrific, skipper!" Bud exclaimed, clapping his pal on the back. The
others gathered around to add their congratulations.

Mr. Swift, beaming with pride, gave Tom a quick hand-squeeze. "It's an
amazing achievement, son. And it may prove to be the key for unlocking
the secrets of space, if and when we have time for some research after
this crisis is over."

"I sure hope so, Dad," Tom murmured. Though jubilant, the young inventor
realized that this was only the first step in his plan to checkmate the
Brungarian rebels.

_The real perils still lay ahead!_

Tom called Harlan Ames and asked him to come to the laboratory for a
conference. When the security chief arrived, he was as impressed as the
others with the way Tom was able to communicate with Exman.

"The problem now," Tom said, "is how do we have him kidnaped?"

Chow, wary as a coyote, offered his opinion that the safest way would be
merely to leave the space robot unguarded somewhere about the grounds of
Enterprises.

Ames shook his head. "Too obvious. They'd suspect a trap." Tom agreed.

"Wal, then, how about truckin' him along the highway hereabouts, as if
you all were sendin' him down to Washington?"

This, too, was vetoed on the grounds that a shrewd espionage agent would
guess that such a valuable prize would never be entrusted to a slow and
vulnerable method of transport.

"Then what about an air flight?" Hank Sterling suggested.

"Brand my six-guns, that'd be jest beggin' to git yourself shot down!"
Chow fumed.

"Not if we used a plane like the _Sky Queen_, equipped with jet
lifters," Hank argued. "If any hijack planes jumped us, they'd have to
let us come down safely in order to get their hands on Exman. We co