Arthur Hailey - Wheels

"We're a small company," Perce said, "but growing fast, and that's our problem."

He went on, explaining that a group of scientific people like himself had banded together information of the company, their objective to convert new, advanced knowledge with which the sciences abounded, into practical inventions and technology. A special concern was freshly emerging energy sources and power transmission. Not only would developments envisaged bring aid to beleaguered cities and industry, they would also augment the world's food supply by massive, powered irrigation. Already the group had scored successes in several fields so that the company was, as Perce expressed it, "earning bread and butter and some jam," Much more was expected.

"A good deal of our work is focusing on superconductors," Perce reported. He asked Adam, "Know much about that?"

"A little, not much."

"If there's a major breakthrough - and some of us believe it can happen - it'll be the most revolutionary power and metallurgical development in a generation. I'll tell you more of that later, it could be our biggest thing."

At the moment, Perce declared, what the company needed was a top-flight businessman to run it. "We're scientists, old boy. If I may say so, we've as many science geniuses as you'll find under one umbrella in this country. But we're having to do things we don't want to and are not equipped for - organization, management, budgets, financing, the rest.

What we want is to stay in our labs, experiment, and think."

But the group didn't want just any businessman, Perce declared. "We can get accountants by the gross and management consultants in a dump truck.

What we need is one outstanding individual - someone with imagination who understands and respects research, can utilize technology, channel invention, establish priorities, run the front office while we take care of the back, and still be a decent human being. In short, old boy, we need you."

It was impossible not to be pleased. Being offered a job by an outside company was no new experience for Adam, any more than it was to most auto executives. But the offer from Perce, because of who and what he was, was something different.

Adam asked, "How do your other people feel?"

"They've learned to trust my judgment. I may tell you that in considering candidates we made a short list. Very short. Yours was the only name on it."

Adam said, and meant it, "I'm touched."

Sir Perceval Stuyvesant permitted himself one of his rare, slow smiles.

"You might even be touched in other ways. When you wish, we can talk salary, bonus, stock position, options."

Adam shook his head. "Not yet, if at all. The thing is, I've never seriously considered leaving the auto business. Cars have been my life.

They still are."

Even now, to Adam, this entire exchange was mere dialectics. Greatly as he respected Perce and strong as their friendship was, for Adam to quit the auto industry voluntarily was inconceivable.

The two were in facing chairs. Perce shifted in his. He had a way of winding and unwinding while seated which made his long, lean figure seem sinuous. Each movement, too, signaled a switch in conversation.

"Ever wonder," Perce said, "what they'll put on your tombstone?"

"I'm not at all sure I'll have one."

Perce waved a hand. "I speak metaphorically, old boy. We'll all get a tombstone, whether in stone or air. It'll have on it what we did with the time we had, what we've left behind us. Ever thought of yours?"

"I suppose so," Adam said. "I guess we all do a little."

Perce put his fingertips together and regarded them. "Several things they could say about you, I suppose. For example: 'He was an auto company vice-president' or even maybe 'president' - that's if your luck holds and you beat out all the other strong contenders. You'd be in good company, of course, even though a lot of company. So many auto presidents and vice-presidents, old boy. Bit like the population of India."

"If you're making a point," Adam said, "why not get to it?"

"A splendid suggestion, old boy."

Sometimes, Adam thought, Perce overdid the studied Anglicisms. They had to be studied because, British baronet or not, Perce had lived in the U.S. for a quarter century and, with the exception of speech, all his tastes and habits were American. But perhaps it showed that everyone had human weaknesses.

Now Perce leaned forward, eying Adam earnestly. "You know what that tombstone of yours might say: 'He did something new, different, worthwhile. He was a leader when they carved new pathways, broke fresh ground. That which he left behind him was important and enduring."'

Perce fell back in his chair as if the amount of talk - unusual in his case - and emotional effort had exhausted him.

Amid the silence which followed, Adam felt more moved than at any other point since the conversation began. In his mind he acknowledged the truth of what Perce had said, and wondered, too, how long the Orion would be remembered after its time and usefulness were ended. Farstar also. Both seemed important now, dominating the lives of many, including his own. But how important would they seem in time to come?

The office suite was quiet. It was late afternoon, and here as elsewhere within the staff building, pressures of the day were easing, secretaries and others beginning to go home. From where Adam sat, glancing outside he could see the freeway traffic, its volume growing as the exodus from plants and offices began.

He had chosen this time of day because Perce had asked particularly that they have at least an hour in which they would be undisturbed.

"Tell me some more," Adam said, "about super-conductors - the breakthrough you were speaking of."

Perce said quietly, "They represent the means to enormous new energy, a chance to clean up our environment, and to create more abundance than this earth has ever known."

Across the office, on Adam's desk, a telephone buzzed peremptorily.

Adam glanced toward it with annoyance. Before Perce's arrival he had given Ursula, his secretary, instructions not to disturb them. Perce seemed unhappy about the interruption, too.

But Ursula, Adam knew, would not disregard instructions without good reason. Excusing himself, he crossed the room, sat at his desk and lifted the phone.

"I wouldn't have called you," his secretary's low-pitched voice announced,

"except Mr. Stephensen said he has to speak to you, it's extremely urgent"

"Smokey Stephensen?"

"Yes, sir."

Adam said irritably, "Get a number where he'll be later this evening. If I can, I'll call him. But I can't talk now."

He sensed Ursula's uncertainty. "Mr. Trenton, that's exactly what I said.

But he's most insistent. He says when you know what it's about, you won't mind him interrupting."

"Damn!" Adam glanced apologetically at Perce, then asked Ursula, "He's on the line now?"

"Yes."

"Very well, put him on."

Cupping a hand over the telephone, Adam promised, "This will take one minute, no more." The trouble with people like Smokey Stephensen, he thought, was that they always considered their own affairs to have overriding importance.

A click. The auto dealer's voice. "Adam, that you?"

"Yes, it is." Adam made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. "I understand my secretary has already told you I'm busy. Whatever it is will have to wait."

"Shall I tell that to your wife?"

He answered peevishly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Mr. Big Executive too busy to take a phone call from a friend, your wife has been arrested. And not on a traffic charge, in case you're wondering. For stealing."

Adam stopped, in shocked silence, as Smokey went on. "If you want to help her, and help yourself, right now get free from whatever you're involved in and come to where I'm waiting. Listen carefully. I'll tell you where to go."