A Mixture of Genius

by Arnold Castle

withoutbothering to shake hands proceeded with introductions.

  "Fritz Ambly, Senator Vance Duran. Fritz," he explained, "is chairmanof the state Youth Welfare Board."

  Duran took the thin hand which the other extended to him and noted theconcern on the man's slim freckled face. His features wereappropriately almost those of a child, but of a worried child.

  "And Bob Duff, Senator Duran," Loeffler went on. "Bob is head of ourCivil Defense now."

  The second man was, in contrast, short and homely, but not without atouch of the other's anxiety.

  "Well, gentlemen, you're welcome to stay if you wish," the AttorneyGeneral told them. "I'll have to repeat all the facts to SenatorDuran, of course."

  "I'd better be off," Ambly said. "Perhaps I'll see you at theGovernor's tonight?"

  "Not me, I'm afraid," Loeffler told him. "The DA and I have a littleproblem to work out together. I'll call you both tomorrow about thepress release."

  "We can't wait too long," said Duff. "Rumors can be a lot worse thanthe truth. Especially about something like this. In fact, I don't seethe point in waiting at all."

  "Tomorrow, Bob. Tomorrow," Loeffler promised. "Noon at the latest."

  His heavy smile faded as the two visitors closed the door behind them.With an unthrottled groan, he lowered himself into the chair andturned his dark gaze upon the senator.

  "They think _they_ have troubles," he said.

  "And you think _I_ have," Duran returned, seating himself.

  "I know _you_ do. Unfortunately I happen to share them to someextent."

  He paused to relight the stub of a cigar, then went on.

  "It's a crazy world we live in, Vance. Things change. Sometimes it'shard for us adults to keep up with it. The kids seem to, though."

  Duran tried to appear suavely bored with the other's musings. But inspite of himself he could sense his gaze becoming intently expectant.Whatever connection there might be between himself, Ambly, and Duffcompletely eluded him. And that elusive connection had aroused hiscuriosity.

  "Yeah, they keep up with things, all right," Loeffler went on. "Andsometimes they get some pretty big ideas."

  He halted, puffed thoughtfully, then barked:

  "Remember Mel Skinner's lodge out on that island in Wakataoga Lake?Big Spanish-style place. Built it for that wife of his he brought backfrom Chile or somewhere."

  "Yes, I remember it. Molly and I spent a weekend there a couple ofyears ago. Why?" the senator asked, realizing more than ever how muchhe disliked Sigmund Loeffler. "What are you getting at?"

  "Well, the next time you go you'd better take along some sleepingbags," said Loeffler. "Because the house isn't there anymore."

  "Okay," Duran said, strangely anxious. "Let's forget the riddles andget down to business. What happened to Mel Skinner's hacienda?"

  The Attorney General stared at his guest for a moment, beforeremarking harshly:

  "It got blown up."

  "A bomb, you mean?" Duran asked.

  "Oh, no, no--nothing so crude as that. This was a guided missile. Witha warhead."

  The senator was thinking fast now, but still the pattern eluded him.

  "Not an act of war, surely?" he remarked.

  "More like an act of revolution," Loeffler told him. "Because theagents behind it were _kids_. Kids from our state, our city. Kidsfrom decent homes, educated families. Bright kids. Happy kids. Kidswith every opportunity. _Kids who ought to know better--_"

  "Hold it, Loeffler!" Duran interrupted, rising from the chair to placeboth hands on the edge of the desk. "Just one question--was anyonekilled or injured?"

  The other man hesitated melodramatically, then looked down at hiscigar.

  "No. There was no one on the island. The place had been closed downfor the winter. That's the only pleasant thing about it."

  Duran found it such unexpectedly good news that he was actually ableto smile when he dropped back into the chair.

  "In other words, Loeffler, it was a prank."

  But the Attorney General seemed not to see it in precisely that light.

  "A prank, yes!" he exploded. "A hundred thousand dollar prank! My God,Vance, don't you see what those boys did? They demonstrated thegrossest lack of respect for private property. And what if they'dmiscalculated? That rocket was fired from a distance of some fifty orsixty miles. It could have killed any number of people along itscourse had it fallen short."

  "Well, I'll admit it's not the sort of thing I'd like to seeencouraged," said Duran. "Now give me the details. Who were they?Where did they get the rocket? What was the point of it, anyway?"

  Sigmund Loeffler opened a folder which lay on his desk and startedsifting through its contents. He pulled out several memoranda and alist of names, closing the folder again.

  "There was a gang of eight, all in the eleventh or twelfth grades atEisenhower High. Five of them were members of the school rocket club.Three of them had juvenile delinquency records--minor stuff, mostly,like copter stunting and public disturbance. The youngest had won acouple of science awards for demonstrations in--" he glancedsignificantly at the senator, "the chemistry of explosives."

  Duran said nothing, but his sense of concern was growing.

  "Let's see," Loeffler went on. "Two of the boys were taking vocationalcourses. One had his own machine shop, in fact. Then there was theelectronics expert--Ceasar Grasso's son--know him?"

  The senator nodded.

  "He runs the highschool T-V station. Knows a lot about radio, Iunderstand. Oh, yes. There was also the lad who drew up the plans forthe gadget. Pretty sharp at engineering design, they say--"

  Duran peered numbly across the desk at the grim faced official. Thiswas what he had been fearing all along. But despite his apprehension,he was not entirely ready for it.

  "That, I suppose," he said quietly, "was my son Roger."

  Loeffler nodded slowly. "That was your boy, Vance. Sorry I had to bethe one to break it to you."

  "But where is he?" Duran asked. "And does Molly know about it?"

  "She knows he's been detained, but not how serious the charges are."

  "Just how serious _are_ the charges?"

  "I don't know yet," said Loeffler. "That's not really my province, ofcourse," said Loeffler. "But the problem is complicated by the factthat Lake Wakataoga is state property, with the island merely leasedto Skinner."

  Duran fumbled through his pockets for his cigarettes. He found themand lit one.

  "When did this happen?" he asked, aware that the painfully tangledknot in his stomach was beginning to untie itself.

  "This afternoon around one-thirty. A couple of guys fishing on thelake saw the explosion and called the local civil defensehead-quarters. They claim they heard the rocket fall. Damned near hada war scare till the pieces were found. They were easy enough totrace, and the kids gave themselves away by all eight of them beingawol from their one o'clock classes. Especially since five of themwere absent from a physics class--that was one class they never cut."

  "I don't see how they managed to go all the way through with itwithout someone finding out," Duran said, bewilderedly.

  "I know," agreed Loeffler, nodding. "That's the way we all felt. Butthey admit doing it--hell, they're proud of it!--and we found the shedwhere the thing was assembled."

  "I don't suppose they offered any motive," Duran said.

  "Oh, sure. They claim they'd been planning it ever since Skinnerwouldn't let them land copters on the island. Pretty weak, huh?"

  The senator made no response.

  "Well, Vance, I guess you'll want to talk to the boy," Loefflerconcluded. "I had him brought up here. Figured it would be best allaround that way. I knew you had to get back to Washington tomorrow andprobably wouldn't have time to see him then. Shall I have him comein?"

  When Duran hesitated, he added, "Oh, I've got to duck out for a fewminutes. Get some supper. Got a long evening ahead of me."

  "Okay, Loeffler, send him in. And--" This was the hardest part. "And Iappreciate this
."

  "No trouble, Vance," the man said, rising and stepping around thedesk. "No more than we've got already."

  He removed a suit coat from a hanger and left the office with it underhis arm. A moment later the door opened again and the senator saw theshaggy head of his older son peer into the room. The boy was the onewho finally broke the silence which followed.

  "Hi, Dad," he said, sauntering casually into the