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premises. In this case Chris's quarters.'
'Meanin'?' Defiance returned to Chris Fogg, his body tensing, jaw jutting
arrogantly.
'Meaning you stole it from Seamark Cruises, and they wanted it back . .
.badly,' Slade replied. They have just carried out their most daring coup in
broad daylight, with this place crawling with cops. And they've succeeded!'
Fogg was silent for a moment, and then, much to the amazement of the other
two, he burst out laughing.
'What's so damned funny?' Mark Slade snapped.
The blueprint.' Chris Fogg leaned back against the doorpost. They've got it,
but a lot of good it'll do 'em.'
'Why?'
'Because it's the original, the experimental one.' The mechanic searched the
pockets of his overall once more, finally producing a grubby folded piece of
paper which he held aloft with a show of jubilation. This is the one they
should've had.'
'You'd better explain,' Slade sighed, shaking his head. 'At the moment I'm
lost, and there are an awful lot of things I'd like cleared up. Better close
that door, just in case there are other Seamark spies crouching on the stairs,
disguised in Hammerton overalls!'
Fogg stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
That blueprint,' he began, 'the original one, I mean. The basic idea was mine,
and if I'd had any sense
I'd've kept my mouth shut about it, and offered it to somebody else. Instead,
I discussed it with Stern. He asked me to work on it with Dyson. From Seamark
Cruises' point of view the project was completed as far as the drawing-board
was concerned. All that remained was for it to be tested.'
'So you quit, and took it with you?'
'Well, it was mine. They weren't going to pay me a penny for it. I was under
contract as an employee, and my wages covered any work that I might do for
them. I let 'em think it was completed. In fact, I'd've saved myself and
everybody else one helluva lot of trouble if I'd just copied the blueprint and
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left it where it was. Dyson isn't clever enough to work out by himself the
necessary adjustment needed in order to co-ordinate a liquid and solid
substance. That was the difficult part, the combination of an engine and
bearing lining in conjunction with valve springs. One thou' out, and you might
as well enter an ordinary road car at Riverside.'
'Plastic?'
'Yeah. Weight-saving as well as friction-free. Well, almost. As near as makes
no difference.'
'And Seamark didn't photocopy the blueprint?'
'No. That was Stern's fault. I guess Seamark's kicked his arse until it's
black and blue for that. They were
worried after you left, Mark. Martin'll never make the grade, not at IROC
level, anyway. I reckon they started to panic. They'd sooner have you dead
than competing against them. Likewise, they don't want my engine and valve
modifications used against them. With me dead they probably figured it might
mean my process being overlooked if I hadn't already passed it on, and,
anyway, this blueprint, even the finished one, wouldn't be any good without
me. Maybe now that they've got the original they'll cut out the rough-stuff
and concentrate on working on their cars. Until they find out they're wasting
their time!'
'If we went to the police with this we could put Seamark and Stern away for a
very long time,' Slade said. 'They'd be so busy answering charges of murder,
attempted murder, sabotage, felony, and a host of others that they'd never
make it in time for the IROC.'
'No! If you bring the cops in on this you'll get no cooperation from me. I'll
swear blind that I never worked on a blueprint for Seamark Cruises, and they
won't contradict that.'
'It's Lee's word and mine against yours, Chris.'
'Maybe, but try me and see. If you start a legal wrangle you won't get to the
States either. Another thing, Seamark Cruises are a worldwide organisation.
They'd get you one way or another. I'm just hoping that now that they think
they've got the blueprint they'll ease up on us. I should've let 'em get it
before. Only trouble was I hadn't finished working on it. Didn't know if I
could improve on the existing formula.
Anyway, that wouldn't have stopped 'em trying to rub you out, Mark. Even with
a friction-free engine they don't want to drive against you.'
'They seem to have overlooked one crucial factor.' Slade glanced at Lee as he
spoke. 'I'm not driving in any IROC for either Seamark or Hammerton.'
They'll never believe you can give up racing,' Fogg said. 'As long as you're
drawing breath, and not working for them, you're a threat to them. Marcus
Seamark wants to win at Daytona, it's his lifelong ambition.'
'There's something else.' Slade regarded Fogg steadily. 'You, as a
run-of-the-mill test-driver/mechanic, have invented something which is
revolutionary. You could've made a fortune on a drawing-board. What the hell
are you doing in the workshop wearing a suit of oily overalls?'
'Maybe I've got the technology,' Fogg answered, 'but that's not the way I want
it. I messed about drawing up that blueprint just to see if it worked. It's
still got to be proved in practice. Even if it revolutionised Formula One
racing it wouldn't give me a grain of satisfaction unless I was at the wheel
of the winning car.'
'So you want to drive?' Lee muttered.
'That's all I ever wanted to do. I reckon with practice and experience I could
make it eventually.
Nobody's got time to persevere with a learner, not at this level, anyway. They
want the finished product.
Maybe I'd do better starting all over again elsewhere. I don't know. It's a
long process. So I settled for the pits, serving in heaven rather than
reigning in hell, I suppose.'
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'I see,' Lee Hammerton sighed, 'and what happens to the completed blueprint
now?'
Fogg was silent for a moment, staring at the folded sheet of paper in his
hands, contemplating, battling with logic, conscience, and a host of other
emotions.
'Well!' Slade spoke sharply. 'What's going to happen to it, then? We've every
right to know whilst you're employed here. At the moment you're the bait for
every gunman and thug in the area, and other people are getting hurt as well.
Waggy wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for your bloody invention.'
Fogg lapsed into a sullen silence, then said, 'I haven't made my mind up about
the blueprint. The original will screw Seamark up for sure, although they'll
probably find that out during testing. Then they'll probably be out for my
blood again.'
'Maybe Dyson will be able to solve the problem.'
'Not a chance. Crossword puzzles are about his limit.'
'What about a driver?'
They'll get somebody. Make no mistake about that. They'll buy the best that's
going. They won't risk
Martin.'
'We still want to know what you're going to do about that blueprint, Chris.'
'Maybe I ought to burn it. Forget all about it.'
'Goon then. Put your cigarette to it, and let's all watch it go up in smoke.'
Fogg hesitated. Finally he shook his head, and said, 'No, I reckon not. I
guess I'd like to see it play its part in Seamark's downfall. For Waggy's
sake, if for no other reason.'
'You'll be paid for it,' Lee broke in.
'It hasn't been tested yet. I guess I can't make any deals until it's been
proved, but I'll help with the modifications to the engine. One thing, though.
It won't help me to become a driver will it, even if
Hammerton wins at Daytona?'
Lee and Slade looked at each other, both thinking of a blond-haired driver who
might just make it, particularly with a friction-free engine to assist him.
'Kilby drives in both the grids and the finals.' Lee Hammerton spoke slowly,
uncertainly. 'I can't go back on my word over that.'
'And if he wins he'll be a world champion.' There was bitterness in Fogg's
voice. 'You won't be able to replace him then. Nobody in their right mind
replaces an IROC winner. I can't win. No way. That's how it's been all along.'
'You'll be the guy who won it from the drawing-board.'
That's not the way I want it.'
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