“I heard about that on the radio,” Dick Fellows cut in. “It crashed somewhere in Manitoba, Canada. All the crew were killed.”
“That’s only part of the story,” Russ went on. “The last radio report from the bomber placed it over Lake Superior. There was a small fire aboard, but the radio operator thought they had it under control. Shortly after that their transmitter conked out. The Air Force never heard from them again—ship blew up in the air just south of White Mouth Lake on the Canadian border.”
Sandy and the others listened in shocked silence as he continued: “Most of the wreckage has been recovered—and the bodies of the crew.” He paused dramatically. “But there is absolutely no trace of the A-bomb they were carrying.”
Dick Fellows let out a long whistle of astonishment. “What happened to it?”
“Nobody knows. The most logical theory is that they jettisoned the bomb when the fire began to get out of control. Over some desolate area. It could have been dumped almost anywhere between Lake Superior and the scene of the explosion. Search teams have been out scouring the most populated areas since dawn yesterday; they’re the critical points. Not that there’s any danger of the bomb detonating, but a thing like this could cause a lot of hysteria. Then there’s the matter of secrecy.” He grinned wryly. “It wouldn’t do for the wrong kind of people to find it—the kind who would put up a tent around it and sell tickets.”
Quiz frowned. “If the bomb casing is cracked or otherwise mutilated, wouldn’t there be some danger from radioactivity?”
Russ Steele regarded the boy solemnly. “I’d prefer not to discuss that aspect right now, Quiz. We won’t be in any danger searching for it, I can tell you that much. The Air Force is going to drop us a couple of Geiger counters from a helicopter tomorrow morning. So we’ll have ample warning if we approach an area contaminated by radioactivity.”
Quiz Taylor’s eyes were enormous behind his thick glasses. “We’re going to look for it?”
“That’s what the call from the Pentagon was all about. They knew I was up here and they want me to take charge of the search operation in this area. We won’t have any help from the military until the more densely populated areas have a clean bill of health, but we’ll do the best we can in the meantime.”
He turned to Dick Fellows. “Ranger headquarters are advising all fire stations within a forty-mile radius to clear the woods of campers, fishermen and sight-seers.”