Trade secret

Mart picked up his glass and stared at the blank screen. “Yeah, I knew it would be bad, but I didn’t think anybody would go off their nut to that extent. Berk, maybe you and I ought to go down and have a talk with Baird.”

“Uh, uh,” said Berk. “As your personal psychiatrist, I advise against it. Baird’s a flag-waver. A defender of the home fires. He’s just plain dangerous. You’d better stay away from that guy if you’re smart.”

“He could be the one to spur an investigation. That’s our next step.”

“Not if he knew we wanted it. He’d simply hound us over the air until we couldn’t move. Carolyn’s right. We’ve got to move fast.”

“We’ve got Jennings,” said Mart. “But I’d rather not use him. His association with us in the past is too well-known. I’d rather it came from someone like Baird. Anyway, we can give it a day or two and see what develops. Personally, I think we should wait until more of the right people have seen the Volcano. That’s our ace.”

“We won’t dare let the children out of the house,” said Carolyn. “Some crackpot stirred up by Baird is certain to decide to defend his country against them before long. Sometimes I almost wish you hadn’t started this thing.”

“You can’t stand an egg on end without breaking it,” said Mart philosophically. “You’ve got the personal teleport. See the kids are never without it. How quick are you —!” He made a swift motion as if to draw a gun.

Carolyn’s hand dropped to the narrow belt at her waist. She vanished before Mart’s hand was halfway up.

“Quick enough,” she said from the other side of the room.

“Not bad,” said Mart. “A little slow in getting your hand on the tab, though. Maybe we ought to practice a little. Anybody want to see Jersey beach tonight —?”

Mart and Berk reopened their offices the next morning. Almost before they had the desks dusted off, there was a visitor. Mart looked up and grinned as Don Wolfe was ushered in.

“I heard Baird on television last night,” said the engineer.

“Oh?” said Mart.

“Yes. A dam good thing, too. I was pretty sore the last time I went out of here.”

“I don't recall having done anything to offend,” said Mart.

“Nothing,” said Wolfe, “except give an exhibition of the most colossal, insufferable, unbearable conceit that one human being has ever displayed toward another.”

“That’s quite an interpretation of my conduct.”

“But not an unfair one.”

Mart spread his hands and indicated a chair. “And so you have come back.”

“Yes,” said Don Wolfe, “to congratulate you and to accept your apologies.”

“I’m apologizing now?”

“You’d better! I carried it off.”

For the space of a half dozen heart beats Mart held his breath. His eyes narrowed on his visitor. “The rocket?”

“Yeah.” Wolfe took from his pocket a small object that looked like a clutter of wires wrapped about a half dozen peanut tubes and an assortment of condensers. He bent over and clamped it to the leg of the desk.

“Move back a little.”

Mart did so. Abruptly the desk lifted a foot off the floor and remained hanging in midair. He reached out to touch it. It swung gently aside, but when he pressed downward it resisted all his efforts.

“I see.” He pinched his lips thoughtfully and leaned back in the chair. “And now, naturally, I’m supposed to ask what you’re going to do with it.”

Don Wolfe touched the gadget again, and the desk settled gently to the floor. He put the haywire rigging on the desk between them. “I told you I heard Baird last night.”

He reached for a heavy glass paperweight and began methodically battering the contraption until the lights in the tiny tubes vanished amid an unrecognizable clutter of glass shards and twisted wire. He brushed the debris into the wastebasket.

“You don’t really need to apologize,” he said. “I just wanted to prove I’d done it, and tell you I’m with you.

“But it was close. If I hadn’t heard Baird last night, it would have been a different story. I didn’t savvy what you were up to until I heard his broadcast. I was too mad to recognize that you were obviously doing something besides exercising pure cussedness.

“I don’t think you’ve got a chance, you understand, but just the same I’m with you. I doubt there’s a development or research engineer in the country who wouldn’t like to personally deliver a knockout blow to the Patent Office. If there is, I don't know where he’s hiding.”

He shifted and arose from his seat. “I’m also going to be out of a job when my chief hears I’ve just smashed up this pretty little working model. I burned all notes. I don’t think the model shop people could reconstruct it from clues I might have left. So if you know of any lab that could use a good development man you might let me know.”

“I know of just a small job that needs doing — by a very good man. Sit down.”

Wolfe resumed his seat and Mart leaned forward. “You heard Baird,” said Mart. “So you know what kind he is. I want to use him, but I can’t do it directly. He’d balk at anything I even intimated.