by John Blaine
“We might as well go back to the hut and sit down,” Rick said. “Doug needs to be alone for a while, I guess.”
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Scotty looked at Tony Larzo’s retreating form. “I don’t think I could ever get real fond of Tony,” he mused.
“That makes two of us,” Rick agreed. “We can form a club. Do you suppose the domes were really sabotaged?”
“It beats me.” Scotty shrugged. “There’s something going on that we can’t figure. Don’t forget that telegram. And don’t forget Gunner Stoles.”
“They don’t have to be connected,” Rick pointed out as he stretched out on a bunk. “But while you’re remembering not to forget things, include Mr. Fred Lewis.”
“He and Gunner would make a good team.” Scotty grinned.“ Blubberpussand paperpuss .”
“Don’t be disrespectful,” Rick chided. “Say, I wonder what Tom will think about this?”
A voice spoke up from the doorway. “Hell probablyphilosophize about it. He’s a great philosopher, Tom is.”
The boys turned and saw Tom grinning at them.
“Now that you know how I’ll react,” he said, “suppose you tell me what it is?”
Rick searched for a gentle way to break the news.
“We had a little trouble,” he said. “We were testing one of the pressure domes and it blew up.”
All the humor went out of Tom’s pleasant face. He sat down heavily and stared at them.
“Let’s have it,” he said. “All of it.”
Rick told him the story briefly, ending with Doug’s discovery of an adulterant in the concrete.
Tom was quiet for a long while,then he shook his head. “Where’s Doug?”
“Sitting on the end of the pier.”
“Did he try to get in touch with Jenkins?”
“No”
Tom went to the desk in the office part of the Quonset hut, searched through a file and came up with a slip of paper. “I think I’ll see what he has to say,” Tom said. He picked up the phone and gave the operator aNew Haven number.
Rick and Scotty waited silently. Jenkins . . . Rick turned the name over in his mind again. Where had he heard it recently?
“Thanks,” Tom said heavily, and hung up. He turned to the boys. “That number has been disconnected,”
he mimicked the telephone operator. “Isn’t that just fine?Now what?” He sat down again. “How is Doug Page 30
taking it?” he asked.
“Hard,” Rick said. “I guess it’s pretty serious.”
“Plenty serious,” Tom agreed. “I know you kids are interested, and I like the enthusiasm with which you pitched in, so I don’t mind telling you. This thing, plus importing workmen fromBridgeport , is draining our remaining capital right down to the dregs.” He paused, his face grave. “Just one more thing, and it doesn’t have to be very big, will push us right over the edge into bankruptcy.”
Rick and Scotty looked at him unbelievingly. They had had no intimation that the situation was that bad.
“It’s true,” Tom said quietly. “Unless we have a lot of luck from now on, this plant will never have a chance to start operations.”
CHAPTER VI
Barby Bakes a Cake
“I need a suggestion,” Tom Blakely said. “Something that will keep Doug’s mind occupied, at least for tonight.” He saw Rick’s questioning glance and went on, “Doug’s ?prettyserious guy, and he’s all wrapped up in this thing. Unless we figure out something that will keep him busy, he’ll brood over it and get himself into a fine state of nerves.”
That made sense to Rick. It fitted in with his feeling about Doug. The young engineer was as absorbed in the sea processing plant as Hartson Brant had always been in the Spindrift experiments.
Comparing Doug with his father gave Rick an idea. “I’ve got it,” he exclaimed. “Do you suppose we could persuade Doug to fly down to Spindrift tonight? You could have dinner with us and stay the night.”
“Just the thing,” Tom said at once. “He’d like that, and I could talk him into it. Only how would we get there?”
“Steve Hollis’s Fairchild,” Rick answered promptly. “I can fly over and pick it up, then come back and get you.If Steve isn’t planning to use it, of course.”
“Call him and see,” Tom said. “I’ll get Doug. It will take a while to persuade him. He hates to get out of sight of the place.”
It took only a minute to get a call through to the airport. Steve replied cheerfully that Rick was welcome to the Fairchild. “Of course you’ll have to leave a ten-thousand dollar deposit,” he added.
“What luck,” Rick replied. “I just happen to have that much in my piggy bank. You don’t mind pennies, do you?”
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“Certainly not.With that many pennies I can repave the runway with solid copper. Well, come and get it when you want it.”
Rick hung up and grinned at Scotty. “A great guy if I ever met one.”
In a few moments they heard the partners arguing outside. As they came into the hut, Tom said:
“Okay. Let’s get down to cases. Just what’s so important that you can’t leave?”
“Well, I could do some wiring on the fractionator controls.”
“You can be doing that while the workmen install the processing units. It wouldn’t do any good to get the wiring done before then.”
Doug was plainly weakening. “I could rig the chemical dumps.”
“The platforms aren’t built yet. So what good would it do?”
“None,” Doug agreed with a grin.
“Then it’s settled. Rick, we’ll accept your invitation.”
“Swell!” Rick exclaimed.“Scotty, better call up Cap’n Gait. We wouldn’t want him to think we’d skipped without paying our bill. I’ll call home from the airport to tell Mother we’re coming.”
“Okay,” Scotty returned. “But you’d better change that shirt. Your mother would have a fit if she saw you like that.”
Tom offered the loan of one of his, and Rick accepted. He changed, then hurried to the Cub, disconnected the warning system, warmed up, and headed for the airport. The obliging airport manager had the Fairchild waiting, the prop turning over. Rick exchanged his little plane for the big cabin biplane and was back at the beach landing strip in no time.
Scotty, Doug, and Tom were waiting on the beach. The partners had brought along an overnight bag, and now that the decision to go had been made, were excited at the prospect of visiting the famous island.
As the Fairchild took the air, Rick put it into a climbing turn directly over the plant. He glanced down and saw the hole in the pressure dome, and the thing that had been gnawing at his memory clicked into place.
“Listen! I know where I’ve heard the name of Jenkins before. It was on the return address of that envelope Fred Lewis dropped!”
“Who is Fred Lewis?” Tom asked.
“He’s the man we saw at the plant gate on Sunday,” Scotty explained. “We saw him again in the hotel lobby. Rick and I have some homework to do on that guy. But let’s not get excited over the name on the envelope, Rick. Jenkins is pretty common. I know some people by that namemyself .”
Scotty was right, of course. The fact that he had seen the name of Jenkins on the envelope meant Page 32
nothing. Rick put the matter out of his mind and concentrated on his flying. Instead of flying down the coastline as he usually did, he set a compass course forBrooklyn , then crossed overStaten Island and picked up theNew Jersey coast. In an incredibly short time, to one used to the lazy flight of the Cub,SpindriftIsland came in sight.
“So that’s Spindrift!” Doug’s voice sounded awed.
Rick winked at Scotty. He knew from the excitement in the young engineer’s voice that the troubles at the plant had been forgotten, at least for a while.
They landed on the grassy strip along the edge of the orchard and Rick set the parking brakes and cut the engine.
“Welcome to Spindrift,” h
e said proudly.
The engine noise gave way to furious barks. A shaggy little form came pelting through the orchard, teeth bared and ready to defend the island against all invaders.
Rick stepped out and jumped down from the wing.
“And who are you barking at?” he demanded sternly.
Dismal’sthroat clogged in mid-bark. He yipped joyously, then rolled over and played dead.
Scotty sniffed the air.“Not bad, that mixture of skunk and lavender. I guess Barby sprayed him with foo-foo , all right.”
Barby herself came running toward them, a slim figure in tennis skirt and one of Rick’s shirts.
“Rick! Where did you get the new plane?Hi, Scotty. Golly, it’s beautiful!”
Then she saw the two strangers just getting out of the plane and was suddenly very dignified.
“Barby,” Rick said, “Mr. Douglas Chambers and Mr. Thomas Blakely. Doug and Tom, this is my sister Barbara.”
“How do you do,” Barby said graciously, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“How do you do, Miss Brant.”Tom smiled, but Doug’s greeting was just a polite murmur. His attention had been instantly focused on the gray bulk of the laboratories.
Mr. and Mrs. Brant came to meet them as they walked to the porch, their cordial welcome making the partners feel instantly at home. Mrs. Brant promised one of her excellent dinners, and, followed reluctantly by Barby, she went off to the kitchen. The boys joined Hartson Brant and the partners in a tour of the island and the labs.
Not until they were settled on the porch after dinner did conversation turn to the sea mine plant, and then it was the partners who brought up the subject.
“You must be curious about what we’re doing, Mr. Brant,” Tom ventured.
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“Naturally.”Hartson Brant smiled. “I know something of the standard methods of processing sea water, but I understand you have something entirely new.”
Doug nodded. “I started to explain to Rick, but . . .”
“But it was too much for me.” Rick grinned. “All about molecular electroniccoefficients, and stuff.”
He was startled at the swift change in his father’s expression. The scientist leaned forward, eyes wide.
“Do you mean to tell me you’ve solved the necessary equations for that?”
“Yes, sir,” Doug said with a note of pride in his voice. “I got on the track while I was in school, but it wasn’t until I read the reports on atomic chain reaction and the cadmium factor that I had any luck. I had already figured out how we could process sea water by using the electronic characteristics of the various molecules of the compounds in solution. Then, when the atom reports put me on the track, I was able to figure out the electronic coefficients. I’d like you to see my equation tables someday, sir.”
“I’d like to,” Hartson Brant said. “How are you using them?”
“Well, the electronic equipment, except for individual control panels, is centered in one building. We prepare the water in fractionators by using a fractional distillation process in the presence of catalysts,then we electrolyze it as much as possible in pressure domes, and finally treat it chemically in the sediment tanks. Then it goes to the electronic processors and the equations work in at that point. After that it’s routine.”
“Very sound,” Hartson Brant declared.“And evolved from a brilliant theory. On the basis of what you’ve just told me, Douglas, I think we might extend an invitation to you to join us here at Spindrift at any time you feel free to do so.”
Rick sat back, speechless. He had heard polite refusals given men who wanted to join the Spindrift scientists. He had never heard, or expected to hear, anyone actually invited to join! He looked at Doug with new respect.
“Holy leaping porpoises,” Scotty exclaimed, “if those processes are that good, we shouldn’t leave them alone like that!”
“Never fear,” Tom said, “they’re well guarded. That little concrete house is built like a bank vault, but better. Inside the concrete is armor plate four inches thick that we got from Navy surplus. It would take an atom bomb to break in.”
“That’s a relief,” Rick murmured. His thoughts had paralleled Scotty’s.
“Now, I have some questions,” Hartson Brant said. “I’m interested in the business side.”
“That’s my department,” Tom Blakely said. “You’ve probably guessed that we’re operating on a shoestring. Any of the big companies would have backed us, but we didn’t want to share the processes.
Amalgamated Mines has approached us several times. Doug went to them originally and they wanted to buy the processes outright, at a ridiculous price. Well, I had a little money I’d inherited, and Doug had some. We pooled that, and Doug’s unole invested another ten thousand.”
“Uncle Frank has a big fortune,” Doug interposed, “but he doesn’t believe in gambling, or so he says.
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He refused to put in any more than ten thousand.”
“Anyway,” Tom continued, “we got going and established credit. We had enough capital to start small.
But things began to happen. Costs went up, and so did wages.”
He went on to outline the mishaps that had befallen the partners, and concluded: “Now the situation is really serious. Our credit is running out and our capital has dwindled. After we pay the workmen and rebuild the domes, we’ll be almost broke. One more accident would finish us.”
After a moment’s silence, Hartson Brant asked: “Are you familiar with probability mathematics?”
“A little,” Doug said.
“They’re a hobby of mine,” the scientist explained. “Probabilities work in a measurable sequence. For instance, I could predict with some accuracy just which cards will turn up in a game of solitaire, after I’ve seen the first few. Now, in constructing anything like your plant, certain numbers of accidents are probable. But from what you tell me, and knowing something of similar plants, I’d say that you have exceeded your mathematical quota.”
Rick felt Scotty tense beside him. Doug and Tom were staring at the scientist.
“In other words,” Hartson Brant went on, “I accept what you’ve told me as almost certain mathematical proof that many of your troubles have been man-made!”
Doug and Tom glanced at each other.
“We’ve thought of that,” Tom said.
“So have I,” Rick echoed.
“Ditto,” Scotty said.
“But who would have cause to sabotage us?” Doug asked.
Hartson Brant countered with another question. “Who would get the processes if you went bankrupt?’*
“Our creditors,” Tom answered promptly. “But they’re all respected firms.”
“Well,it’s one answer,” Hartson Brant said. He rose from his chair. “I think we’ve talked enough for a bit. Is anyone game for a walk?”
Only Doug seemed to have that much ambition. He and the scientist departed in the direction of the tidal flats.
Barby and Mrs. Brant appeared, their after-dinner chores finished.
“I’m sorry we haven’t any cake for your usual late snack,” Mrs. Brant said to Scotty, her eyes twinkling.
“But we didn’t expect you.’
“Barby will bake us a cake,” Scotty offered.
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Barby glared at him.
Rick grinned. Barby could bake cakes, all right, but she hated cooking. It wasn’t sophisticated, she said.
“Sure,” he agreed. “She makes wonderful cakes, Tom. Let’s all go into the kitchen and help her.”
Barby knew when she was trapped, but she made a last try at resisting.
“But that would be so dull, Rickl ”
“Not at all.”Tom smiled. “It’s so unusual to find a girl who can really cook these days!”
Barby’s resistance to the idea melted. “All right, then,” she said gaily, ‘let’s bake a cake!”
Mrs. Brant said something under her breath that sounded to Rick like
: “I never thought I’d see the day.”
But she raised no objection.
They all gathered in the kitchen and offered advice while Barby mixed the ingredients.
Then Rick got a sudden brain storm and nudged Scotty.
“Tell you what, sis, you make the cake and I’ll bake it in my induction heater.”
It was a unit that he had rigged for cooking hamburgers late at night when he wanted a snack. It worked like an induction furnace, high-frequency current cooking anything placed between the two coils.
Barby fell neatly into the trap. “Oh, would you, Rick? Then we won’t have to bother with the oven.”
He had cooked things for her before and she knew that the induction coils took less time.
“I’ll help him,” Scotty said, on his toes because of the nudge Rick had given him. He knew something was afoot and was ready to help out. “Tell youwhat, you and Tom fix the frosting while we bake the cake.”
Barby mixed the batter and folded it neatly into an oblong tin. Rick, unnoticed, had gotten an identical tin from the cupboard. He walked out with it hidden under his jacket, and in a moment Scotty followed with Barby’s cake.
Once in the safety of Rick’s room, Scotty asked: “What’s on your mind? Dirty work of some kind, I’ll bet.”
Rick produced the second tin. “Barby always makes a loaf cake. That was what gave me the idea.”
He connected the induction coils and put the cake in between them. It would be done in five minutes.
Then he rummaged around in a box of odds and ends and came up with a balloon.
“Watch this,” he said gleefully. He blew up the balloon, which was one of the long sausage-shaped variety , stopping when it was about the size of the cake tin. He tied a knot to hold in the air,then placed the inflated balloon in the cake tin, squeezing until it just fitted, the red rubber protruding in a mound, like the top of a cake.
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“Now,” he directed, “run downstairs and get the frosting. Tell Barby we’ll reverse the current and cool the cake so we can frost it right away.”
“But that’s impossible,” Scotty objected.
Rick grinned. “Barby doesn’t know that. Tell her to entertain Tom and leave everything to us. And get a cake plate.”