CHAPTER XV – Tom Swift and His Elec­tric Loco­mo­tive begins in silence, bro­ken only by the soft crunch of Ned Newton’s foot­steps as he creeps through the dim­ly lit yard of the Swift Con­struc­tion Com­pa­ny. The night is heavy with ten­sion. Ned, dressed in dark clothes and guid­ed by instinct, sus­pects that some­one may be tar­get­ing the Her­cules 0001 again. A faint flick­er of move­ment near the perime­ter fence con­firms his unease. He crouch­es low, eyes fixed on a shad­ow that slinks along the boundary—someone clear­ly attempt­ing unau­tho­rized entry. Giv­en the past attempts to sab­o­tage Tom’s project, Ned pre­pares for the worst.

With­out warn­ing, the roar of Her­cules 0001 ignites the night. Its test run lights up the yard, reveal­ing a fig­ure scal­ing the fence with the help of a pole rigged with notch­es. Ned’s breath catch­es. He sees the glint of wire cut­ters in the intruder’s hand. The man is tam­per­ing with the elec­tri­fied fencing—a fatal mis­take. Just as the loco­mo­tive thun­ders past, Ned shouts a warn­ing. The cry comes too late. A burst of sparks erupts as the intrud­er is jolt­ed back, writhing in pain. The crack­ling sound echoes through the yard, draw­ing Tom Swift and the secu­ri­ty crew rac­ing toward the source.

The man on the ground is Joe Myrick, a name Tom rec­og­nizes imme­di­ate­ly. Myrick, once affil­i­at­ed with the Blatz Detec­tive Agency, has no rea­son to be on the premises—especially not with a can of oil tucked beneath his coat and tools for sab­o­tage in his pock­ets. He fumes with arro­gance, try­ing to intim­i­date them with vague legal threats. But Tom, calm and focused, sees through the pos­tur­ing. The evi­dence is too strong to ignore. Myrick’s actions were delib­er­ate and dan­ger­ous. The oil, the wire cut­ters, and the notched pole were not items car­ried by acci­dent. They were instru­ments meant to crip­ple progress.

Tom wastes no time and orders the police to be con­tact­ed. He wants the mat­ter dealt with pub­licly and law­ful­ly. Ned, still shak­en, offers a brief sum­ma­ry of the night’s events. Tom lis­tens, nod­ding occa­sion­al­ly, but his atten­tion is divid­ed. He scans the area, won­der­ing if Myrick was act­ing alone. The attack was brazen, too bold for one man. Had he been sent as a dis­trac­tion while some­one else moved else­where? Tom’s instinct for lay­ered threats kicks in, and addi­tion­al guards are sta­tioned across the yard. He knows that when inno­va­tion reach­es the edge of dis­rup­tion, ene­mies rarely come just once.

As Myrick is tak­en into cus­tody, Tom reflects on what this means. His invention—the Her­cules 0001—is more than a machine now. It’s a tar­get. The promise it holds for trans­form­ing rail trans­port makes it valu­able, and in some cir­cles, dan­ger­ous. Rivals like Mon­tagne Lewis, threat­ened by what Tom’s engine rep­re­sents, are grow­ing more des­per­ate. But Tom refus­es to let fear con­trol him. Instead, it fuels his deter­mi­na­tion to make the loco­mo­tive safer, faster, and more resilient. He takes this inci­dent not just as a threat but as a les­son.

The next morn­ing, secu­ri­ty pro­to­cols are reviewed and rein­forced. Tom meets with local law enforce­ment to ensure fur­ther sab­o­tage attempts are dealt with harsh­ly. Mean­while, Ned assists with dam­age con­trol, help­ing inspect the fenc­ing and reas­sure employ­ees. The crew, though rat­tled, admires how Tom han­dled the cri­sis. His lead­er­ship isn’t loud, but it’s felt. He doesn’t speak in anger. He speaks in pur­pose.

Lat­er that day, Tom sits alone in the cab of the Her­cules 0001, run­ning his fin­gers along the con­trols. His mind is already draft­ing improve­ments: tam­per alerts for the fenc­ing, upgrad­ed sur­veil­lance, and an inter­nal fail­safe for sab­o­tage attempts. This isn’t paranoia—it’s prepa­ra­tion. Tom under­stands that with every step for­ward, resis­tance inten­si­fies. But that’s the cost of lead­ing change.

This chap­ter under­scores more than a brush with dan­ger. It reveals the broad­er ten­sion between inno­va­tion and the fear it pro­vokes. Tom Swift doesn’t retreat from that chal­lenge. He advances, know­ing that true progress requires not just inven­tion, but the courage to defend it.