Random hunches and circuit diagrams flashed through Tom's brain. "The job will boil down to blotting out sonar waves and piercing the enemy's own 'wave-trap defense,'" the young scientist concluded.
As Tom struggled with the problem, he lost all track of time. A door swung open and high-heeled boots clumped on the floor tiles. Tom looked up and saw the portly, aproned figure of Chow Winkler entering.
"Hi, boss! Can I borrow a radio?" Chow asked. "Kinda like a lil music while I wrassle them pots an' pans in the galley."
"Sure, pardner." Tom pointed toward a portable radio on a shelf nearby.
Chow's leathery face broke into a grin as he picked it up. "One o' them slick lil transistor doodads, eh?"
The cook flicked on the dial knob and the twangy strains of Hawaiian guitar music came throbbing out. A split second later the volume swelled as the same music echoed back to them from the two-room apartment adjoining the lab, where Tom ate and slept when engaged in some round-the-clock experiment.
Chow was startled by the blare. "You got a stereo hookup here, boss?" he inquired.
"Not exactly." Tom explained that the music had merely been picked up by the mike on his workbench, then fed into the adjoining apartment and amplified over a speaker there.
Chow grinned, snapping his fingers to the catchy melody. "Comes out even louder'n it does from the radio!"
"Yes, but the sound quality's not so good," Tom said. "You'd notice the difference with real stereo."