Agent Nine Solves His First Case by Graham Dean

Author:Graham Dean [Dean, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aeterna Classics
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XVII

THE RADIO SECRET

Merritt Hughes leaned back in the seat as the cab darted in and out of the heavy traffic on the avenue.

“All of the breaks have been against us so far,” he mused, half to himself and half to Bob, “but we’re bound to find something coming our way soon.”

“I’m anxious to see the fellow who is being held at the police station,” said Bob. “Surely you’ll be able to get some information out of him.”

“Remember you’re working on this case, too. Better say ’we’ instead of ’you’ when you’re talking about it. This is the firm of Hughes and Houston, working for Uncle Sam on a radio mystery.”

Their cab pulled up in front of the War Department and they entered and hastened to an upper floor where the federal agent rapped sharply on a door marked “Major Francis McCreary, Private.”

“Come in,” a heavy voice on the other side rumbled and Merritt Hughes opened the door.

Bob, looking in, saw a heavy man, a huge thatch of hair bristling over his forehead, at a flat-topped desk. He rose as they entered.

“Hello, Hughes,” greeted the major. “Right on time.” He nodded toward a desk clock.

“Made it with nothing to spare,” grinned Bob’s uncle. Then he added, “Major, I want you to know my nephew, Bob Houston. He’s working with me on this case. Bob’s the man who captured our radio thief last night and I’m counting on him as a valuable inside man in the department over there.”

“Glad to meet you,” boomed the major, offering a warm handclasp. “Are you in the Department of Justice?”

Bob started to reply but his uncle spoke first.

“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.

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