“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.