Tom and Bud's cargo jet was the second to take off. On signal from the tower, the big workhorse thundered down the runway and soared off into the blue. Soon it was spearing southward above the waters of the Atlantic.
Presently Bud drew Tom's attention to some blurry specks of light on the radarscope. "Looks like a formation of planes, skipper."
Tom studied the blips for a while. "Guess you're right. It's sure not a flock of sea gulls!" The young inventor frowned.
"Worried, Tom?" Bud asked quietly.
Tom shrugged. "It could be a routine military flight."
He increased speed and climbed for altitude. But the blips on the radarscope showed that the planes were coming steadily closer. It was clear that they were targeting on the Swift cargo jet.
Tom switched on the radio. Presently a voice crackled over their headphones:
"Calling Swift jet!" The voice was heavily accented.
"Brungarians!" Bud muttered.
Tom made no reply to the radio challenge. Again came the voice: