He tipped the tube so the open end was down, then shook it. A large piece of rolled-up paper dropped out. As it fell to the table, it unrolled part way—enough, at least, for Eddie to see the blue color of its inside surface. He also saw the white markings.
“Blueprints!” he cried.
At the word, his father looked up from his own busy figuring. “You’re right,” he said. “They sure are blueprints. You kids certainly hit upon something big. Mighty big.”
“What do you mean, Dad?” Eddie wondered.
“There’s no doubt about it,” his father said firmly. “The material that came out of the small black capsule inside of that tube is a part of the stolen radioisotope. It’s mixed in with some other material to weaken its power. But I’m certain the radioactivity comes from small amounts of our isotope.”
“Then we’ve found the stolen isotope!” Eddie exclaimed. Although the idea had occurred to him before, hearing the proof of it was no less startling.
“Only part of it,” his father reminded him. Then he turned toward Teena. “Unless I miss my guess, those blueprints are some of the ones missing from Acme Aircraft Company.”
This seemed sheer fantasy, like something that might happen in a restless dream after eating too much ice cream and lobster salad.
“Come on, kids,” Mr. Taylor prompted, leading them back toward his office. “There’s a lot to be done. And unless I miss my guess, it must be done quickly—or we might be too late.”
