An Assist from JANIG
"We're onto something," Rick said grimly, "and we need help."
"I should say so," Barby commented. She eyed the cement bag a little apprehensively. "After all, radioactivity is dangerous!"
Dr. Miller smiled. "It is, in sufficient quantity. But the sample we have here is scarcely above normal background, so I don't think we need be concerned." The scientist turned to Rick. "I wish your instrument could give us further data, but unfortunately it's pretty primitive. It tells us the sample is slightly radioactive and that's all. I agree we need help."
The nearest source of help Rick could think of was JANIG, the secret security agency in Washington for which the Spindrift scientists had often worked on special projects. This wasn't a matter for the agency officially, but Rick was sure Steve Ames, their contact in JANIG, would help if he could. Since Spindrift had first worked with the agency on The Whispering Box Mystery, Steve and the boys had become good friends.
Rick suggested to the others that Steve should be called. All of them knew the young agent. He had been responsible to a large extent for the Millers joining the Spindrift staff, since he had smuggled them out of Washington to Spindrift to escape the deadly electronic mind reader that had imperiled the scientist for weeks.
There was no disagreement. On the contrary, Jan Miller asked excitedly, "What's the matter with right now?"
"Nothing," Rick said with a grin. He went to the telephone book and found the long-range dialing code for Washington, then dialed Steve's special number directly. In less than half a minute he had the agent on the phone.
"Steve? What a break to find you in! This is Rick." He swiftly outlined the events of the past few days, ending with the discovery that the bag contents were radioactive. He concluded, "I know this isn't a case for you, but we hoped you might help us to identify the stuff from the bag and get a better measure of how active it is."
Steve considered. "Know where Falls Church airport is?"
Rick had used it for a landmark on the way to the farm. It was a small private airport west of Washington near the city of Falls Church. "I know where it is."
"All right. You're only a few minutes flying time from there. It's now two thirty. Be there at four. I'll have a man meet you. Bring the sample."
Rick thanked the agent and hung up. He reported that Steve would send a man to the airport at four o'clock.
Scotty asked, "Is the field dry enough for take-off and landing?"
"Sure. I hope Steve has a real expert he can send. If we can identify this stuff, it may give us a clue to what's going on here."
At Barby's request, Rick and Scotty took the girls along for the short ride. Steve's man walked to the plane as they rolled to a stop on the Falls Church strip. He introduced himself as Don Baxter, then opened the suitcase he carried. "Let's see what you have."
He produced a field-survey instrument and held it over the bag Rick carried. The instrument's meter showed a reading at once.
"Gamma," Baxter stated. "Now let's try for alpha and beta." He opened a shield on the bottom of his instrument and checked the sample again. The meter failed to respond. "No beta. That's interesting." An inner shield was slid out of the way and the instrument held to the bag. The meter responded.
Baxter nodded satisfaction. "Alpha and gamma. No beta. That means this stuff is not a fission product."
He studied the powder and rubbed a bit between his thumb and forefinger. He asked, "May I have the bag?"
"Sure," Rick agreed readily. "What is the stuff?"
Baxter took the cement bag and folded it neatly, then he took a plastic bag from his case and put the cement bag inside. "I can't be sure," he said. "About its precise identity, I mean. But it seems to be pulverized ore, and my guess would be carnotite. Don't worry about the radioactivity. You could live in a house made of this stuff and it wouldn't be dangerous. The level of activity is very low. I suppose you have no idea where the sample came from?"
Rick shook his head. "Where does carnotite come from, usually?"
"The Colorado Plateau, for the most part. There are other deposits, but none around here. This stuff was almost certainly imported. Have you any idea why?"
"Not the slightest. It's a complete mystery."
Baxter nodded. "Well, that's all I can do for now. I'll analyze the sample and let Steve Ames know exactly what it is, but I'm betting on carnotite. If you find a few hundred tons of it, you can sell it to the Atomic Energy Commission. So long."
The expert tipped his hat to the girls and walked to his car.
"What was that all about?" Barby demanded. "You and Scotty seemed to know what he was talking about, but it was all Greek to Jan and me."
Rick explained on the way back to the farm. "There are four main kinds of radioactivity. They're called alpha, beta, gamma, and neutrons. Our sample has alpha and gamma. That means it doesn't come from either bomb debris or from a reactor, because fission takes place in both, and there is almost always beta activity as well as gamma in the products of fission. But some isotopes of uranium and thorium have little beta, with some alpha and gamma, so Baxter concluded we had powdered uranium ore. There are many kinds of ore. Pitchblende is the best, but carnotite, which is a gray rock with yellowish streaks, is also good ore. Got it now?"
Jan Miller asked, "How do you know all this, Rick?"
The boy chuckled. "From associating with your father and mine, not to mention Weiss, Zircon, and the other scientists. They talk and Scotty and I listen. Also, Dad has a lot of books on atomic energy, and some of them are simple enough for me to read."
The Sky Wagon was over the Miller farm in a very short time, but before landing Rick made a swing of the area. The young people readily identified the mine and picnic grounds, and Rick pointed out the quarry into which he had tumbled.
Scotty said, "Something's been bothering me. If the Frostola man is new in this area, how could he have known the terrain well enough to lead us on that wild-goose chase?"
"He's new, but not that new," Rick pointed out. "He's had weeks in which to study the lay of the land. Besides, he does his haunting at night—if he's the one—and he roams the fields near the mine. He must know his way around."
"You're right," Scotty assented. "Now tell me this: why did he take the cement bags?"
"To keep us from finding out that they didn't contain cement," Rick said. "It has to be the reason. That means he knew about the bags, and maybe he even buried them. He didn't bury them deep, because who would think anything of a bunch of cement bags, except a pair like us? Then, when he saw they had turned up, he collected them and took them somewhere else. The bags we found this morning may even be the same ones, although I think they're a second set. He'd hide the first set better than he did at first."
"Your language is confused, but I get your meaning." Scotty grinned. "Okay, detective. Set us down. It's suppertime."
Rick swung into his landing pattern. "Anyway, we've made progress," he commented with satisfaction. "We started with just a ghost. Now look what we've got!"