Chapter XVII

THE RADIO SECRET
★

Merritt Hughes leaned back in the seat as the cab darted in and out of the heavy traffic on the avenue.

“All of the breaks have been against us so far,” he mused, half to himself and half to Bob, “but we’re bound to find something coming our way soon.”

“I’m anxious to see the fellow who is being held at the police station,” said Bob. “Surely you’ll be able to get some information out of him.”

“Remember you’re working on this case, too. Better say ’we’ instead of ’you’ when you’re talking about it. This is the firm of Hughes and Houston, working for Uncle Sam on a radio mystery.”

Their cab pulled up in front of the War Department and they entered and hastened to an upper floor where the federal agent rapped sharply on a door marked “Major Francis McCreary, Private.”

“Come in,” a heavy voice on the other side rumbled and Merritt Hughes opened the door.

Bob, looking in, saw a heavy man, a huge thatch of hair bristling over his forehead, at a flat-topped desk. He rose as they entered.

“Hello, Hughes,” greeted the major. “Right on time.” He nodded toward a desk clock.

“Made it with nothing to spare,” grinned Bob’s uncle. Then he added, “Major, I want you to know my nephew, Bob Houston. He’s working with me on this case. Bob’s the man who captured our radio thief last night and I’m counting on him as a valuable inside man in the department over there.”

“Glad to meet you,” boomed the major, offering a warm handclasp. “Are you in the Department of Justice?”

Bob started to reply but his uncle spoke first.

“He’s in the filing division right now, but he’s also a provisional agent and I’m expecting he’ll join the service permanently.”

The major shuffled several papers on his desk and picked up one.

“Here’s a copy of the paper stolen last night,” he said. “I know you want the gist of its importance and why so much interest attaches to it.”

He waved them toward chairs and dropped back in his own swivel seat, which he filled to overflowing with his generous bulk.

“We’ve been making some real strides in our army radio development,” he went on, “and some other powers have been watching us closely. There’s no need to mention names right now until suspicion definitely points to a nation. What we have actually perfected in recent weeks is a workable radio control for robot operated bombing planes.”

He paused a moment to let the significance of his statement sink in.

Bob knew its importance. Of course there had long been talk that such a device was possible, but it had never been perfected so far as he knew. Its value as a weapon of destruction was tremendous for airplanes loaded with high explosives could be dispatched over great distances and then made to drop their deadly cargoes upon a radio signal.

Bob glanced at his uncle. Merritt Hughes was sitting on the edge of his chair, waiting for the army officer to continue.

Major McCreary cleared his throat and Bob sensed that he was laboring under a definite strain.

“This project has been a pet of mine for years. I’ve encountered one discouragement after another and it was only two months ago that I struck the right track. Since then my developments have been almost sensational.” He paused a moment as though fearing they might feel he was bragging about his own accomplishments.

“Actual tests last week proved the practicability of my invention and I then set it down in detail for final filing. Of course we knew that other powers were aware of the line along which the experiments had been carried out, but our real source of worry was that they might get their hands on the actual details of operation. For that reason it was decided to file the material in various sections and to make no special fuss about it.”

“And the paper stolen last night was the first section of your file?” asked Merritt Hughes, restraining his eagerness no longer.

The army officer nodded.

“Right. It was the original. The one on my desk is a copy. The other originals are in a safe in this building.”

“Is there enough information on the first section which was stolen to reveal your plan in full?” asked Bob.

“That’s something that would depend upon the cleverness of the men into whose hands it is delivered. There is one European power whose radio experts are well advanced along the line on which I have been working. If this document is delivered into their hands, there is a good chance that it contains information which would be of value to them.”

“But so far we have no idea who is behind the theft last night,” said the federal agent. “Have you any hunches?”

Major McCreary shook his head.

“Nothing strong enough to give you any leads. But I’ll let you know the minute anything develops. In the meantime, make every effort to recover this paper. Once it passes beyond the boundaries of this country it may fall into the hands of men smart enough and unscrupulous enough to learn its meaning and put it to their own selfish use. It is a secret which would give them unlimited powers of destruction.”

After they had left Major McCreary’s office Bob looked at his uncle.

“What next?” he asked.

“To the police station to interview that prisoner without any further loss of time,” was the decision.

The station was some distance away and they took a taxi. Before they had gone three blocks the hooting of police sirens fairly filled the air and their driver was forced to pull far over to the right as radio cars went racing past, each driver tense at his wheel and the other officer ready with a shotgun in his lap.

“Something big’s broken,” said the federal agent. “Be just my luck to have it an angle on this case. Oh well, we might as well go on to the station and see what we can dig out of your friend.”

As they reached the police station another squad car rushed away, its siren screaming a warning to traffic.

Merritt Hughes fairly tossed the cab fare at the driver and with Bob at his heels, ran into the building. The federal agent knew the desk sergeant and directed his questions at him.

“What’s up, Barney? Bank been robbed?”

“Just about as bad. Someone slugged one of your agents and made a break. Matter of fact, I guess it was a friend of yours.”

“Quit kidding, Barney. What happened?”

“The fellow you caught last night was being questioned by Condon Adams when all of a sudden he ups and smashes Adams a nasty crack on the chin, grabs his gun, and legs it out the door. We’ve got every squad car in town out hunting for him.”

Bob felt his own heart sink for he knew that unless the fugitive was recaptured, their hopes for a real break in the radio mystery were slim.