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PAGE 7

Damned If You Don’t
by [?]

“You, yourself have benefitted by this policy. According to our records, you are drawing royalties from three patented improvements in the stellarator which were discovered at times when you were employed by us–or, rather, by one of our associative corporations–in an advisory capacity. Those discoveries were, by contract, ours. By law, we could use them as we saw fit without recompense to you, other than our regular fee. None the less, we chose to pay you a royalty because that is our normal policy with all our engineers and scientific research men. We find it more expedient to operate thus.”

Bending was getting a little tired of Olcott’s “none the less,” but he didn’t show it. “Are you trying to say that my Converter was invented during my employ with your company, Mr. Olcott?”

Olcott cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. Not necessarily. It is true that we might have a case on those grounds, but, under the circumstances, we feel it inexpedient to pursue such a course.”

Which means, Bending thought, that you don’t have a case at all. “Then just what are you driving at, Mr. Olcott?” he asked aloud.

“I’ll put my cards on the table, Mr. Bending,” Olcott said.

You’ve already said that, Bending thought, and I’ve seen no evidence of it. “Go ahead,” he said.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat again. “If your invention is … ah … worth while, we are prepared to negotiate with you for use and/or purchase of it.”

Bending had always disliked people who said or wrote “and/or,” but he had no desire to antagonize the Power Utilities representative by showing personal pique. “Let me understand you clearly,” he said. “Power Utilities wants to buy my rights to the Converter. Right?”

Olcott cleared his throat a third time. “In a word, yes. Provided, of course, that it is actually worth our while. Remember, we know almost nothing about it; the claims made for it by our … ah … anonymous informer are … well, ah … rather fantastic. But your reputation–” He let the sentence hang.

Bending was not at all immune to flattery. He grinned. “Do you mean that you came to me to talk about buying an invention you weren’t even sure existed–just because of my reputation?”

“Frankly, yes,” said Olcott. “Your reputation is … ah … shall we say, a good one in power engineering circles.”

“Are you an engineer?” Bending asked suddenly.

Olcott blinked. “Why, no. No, I am not. I’m a lawyer. I thought you understood that.”

“Sorry,” Bending said. “I didn’t. Most of the financial work around here is done through my Mr. Luckman. I’m not acquainted with the monetary end of the business.”

Olcott smiled. “Quite all right. Evidently I am not as well known to you as you are to me. Not that it matters. Why did you ask?”

Bending stood up. “I’m going to show you something, Mr. Olcott,” he said. “Would you care to come with me to the lab?”

Olcott was on his feet in a second. “I’d be glad to, Mr. Bending.”

* * * * *

Bending led the man into the lab. “Over here,” he said. At the far end of the laboratory was a thick-legged table cluttered with lengths of wire, vacuum tubes, transistors, a soldering gun, a couple of meters, and the other various paraphernalia of an electronics workshop. In the center of the table, surrounded by the clutter, sat an oblong box. It didn’t look like much; it was just an eighteen by twelve by ten box, made of black plastic, featureless, except for a couple of dials and knobs on the top of it, and a pair of copper studs sticking out of the end.

Still, Olcott didn’t look skeptical. Nor surprised. Evidently, his informant had had plenty of information. Or else his poker face was better than Bending had thought.