Saucer (25 page)

“Tsk, tsk.” Hedrick clucked his tongue. “And you gave me your word, Ms. Pine.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

After a large Australian breakfast, Rip Cantrell set forth from Bathurst in his borrowed car to see what he could of Hedrick’s empire. As he drove west the coastal mountains soon petered out, giving way to low, rolling grasslands. Water appeared to be rather scarce, the flora looked semiarid. Still, plenty of cattle and sheep could be seen from the paved, two-lane road grazing peacefully amid scattered trees, which seemed to grow best near creeks and low places.

The problem was going to be getting in. He suspected that tradesmen from Bathurst, the nearest town to Hedrick’s station, must come and go regularly. That was worth looking into. As he drove he kept an eye out for tradesmen’s vans. He saw a bakery truck go by on the way back to town, but traffic was sparse. Every now and then a truck, occasionally a car.

He was driving along a particularly long, dull, empty straight stretch when he saw a turnout ahead and a gate. The gate was a steel pole across the road, tended by at least three men. As he drove by he saw the Hedrick name on a sign.

Rip continued on, watched for other roads, other entrances, guards, anything. Ten miles later he was still going by Hedrick’s land, he thought, having seen no boundary fences joining the fence alongside the road.

When the road topped a low ridge between watersheds, Rip pulled over and got out to stretch his legs.

The highway in both directions was empty. Fences along both sides of the road, but no livestock in sight. A few trees along a distant creek, and far to the east, the low Blue Mountains. High up, a cloud layer was moving in from the east; soon it would block the sun.

He was about to get back in the car when he heard a distant, low-pitched rumbling sound, like a jet climbing at full throttle. Rip shaded his eyes, searched the sky to the south.

He despaired of seeing it when all of a sudden, there it was—a small black dot low in the sky, moving at a high subsonic speed.

The object turned north, climbing, and headed in his general direction. It was about four miles from him when he realized he was looking at the saucer.

• • •

That evening at the Bathurst Hotel, four Japanese in suits and ties sat at a table near Rip. They had apparently just arrived that afternoon.

Rip was quick to notice that these four wore their hair shorter than was stylish, carried no extra weight, and looked remarkably fit. Not a gray hair in the bunch. The oldest was perhaps thirty. Four soldiers, he concluded, and wondered what had brought them to this corner of the earth.

As Rip worked his way through his second large steak, he noticed that these four also had good appetites. Must be the invigorating air down under, he thought, and went back to musing about how he was going to get past Hedrick’s security guards.

After dinner Rip Cantrell went for a walk around town. There was a large market just two blocks from the hotel, but then Bathurst was a small town. Delivery trucks were parked out back.

Rip went inside, walked through the aisles looking over the produce and packaged food. The meat counter was well stocked too. Finally he selected a couple of pastries and went to the checkout counter to pay.

The man there rang up his purchases without comment. Rip went back to the sidewalk and took a pastry from the bag to munch on. He walked along the side of the building to a spot where he could look over the market’s delivery trucks.

One way or the other, he thought, I’ve got to get inside.

• • •

The last delegation to arrive and receive a saucer ride was the one from the European Union. A German, a Frenchman, and an Italian seemed to be the committee in charge. They had engineers along, but the three politicians whispered among themselves all the time.

Charley Pine gave them a gentle ride, no G’s, no maneuvering, then sat in the pilot’s seat for two hours and watched as the Europeans played with the computers, looked at this, prodded that.

The Frenchman introduced himself as Nicholas Pieraut. “Enchante, mademoiselle,” he said with a grin.

“Same here,” Charley Pine replied.

“You are the aviatrix?”

“That’s right. Wherever the saucer goes, I go.” She changed positions slightly to ease the pain in her back.

“Ahh,” said Pieraut.

• • •

After a formal dinner in the huge main dining room of the station mansion, Roger Hedrick led the four delegations back to the hangar. Valets serving cognac and cigars worked the crowd. Tastefully and modestly spotlighted in the center of the hangar was the saucer.

Charley Pine stood nearby with a glass of white wine in her hand, ready to answer questions about the saucer if asked. When she dressed for dinner in a gown loaned to her by Bernice, her lower back was black, blue, purple, and yellow. No blood in her urine, thank God, and apparently no ribs broken. She carried herself gingerly. She was on her third glass of wine, so now her back hurt only when she took a deep breath.

Rigby was just aft of her left elbow, as she was keenly aware. He looked awful: Someone had straightened his nose and taped it to hold it in position. Still, the swelling would take a few days to subside.

She glanced at Rigby again and decided his face was worth the pain in her back.

“Tomorrow, gentlemen, we begin the auction.” Hedrick boomed his words while the translators buzzed to those who didn’t speak English. “You delegates representing your respective nations have a chance to change history, to affect the lives of everyone on the planet. The nation that takes the saucer home will become the superpower of the twenty-first century.”

In the silence that followed, the delegates looked about them at the other delegations. It seemed to Charley Pine that they thought Hedrick was right. And he was.

“Each of you has had a demonstration ride in the saucer, each of you has witnessed its amazing capabilities with your own eyes. You have examined it at great length and have spent hours on the satellite telephones talking to your governments. Our test pilot, the beautiful Ms. Pine, has answered your questions. You are, I hope, fully informed about this remarkable machine, in touch with your governments, and ready to make serious bids.”

You have to hand it to the bastard, Charley Pine thought. He really does it up brown. The valet with the cigar box strayed within reach, so Charley snagged herself a stogie. Why the hell not?

She finished off the wine while the valet used a little guillotine on the butt end of the thing and struck a big long kitchen match. When the cigar was going, she held out her empty wineglass for cognac.

Hedrick nodded at Bernice, who handed a sheet of paper to the senior member of each delegation.

“If you will please refer to your copy of the bidding rules that my assistant is passing out,” Hedrick was saying. “As you will see, the bidding will take place in rounds. The minimum bid in the first round will be ten billion American dollars. Each bid in the second and subsequent rounds must be at least one billion dollars more than the highest bid of the last round or the bidder will be disqualified from the auction. The auction shall continue until only one bidder remains, and that bidder shall be the winner. The purchase price of the saucer shall be payable in American dollars or negotiable securities denominated in American dollars unless prior to the auction the bidding party and I agree on the value of the goods being offered in trade. Finally, the purchase price must be paid in full before the winning bidder takes possession.”

Hedrick waited until the translators caught up, then said, “Gentlemen, good luck tomorrow.”

The members of the delegations puffed on Cuban cigars and sipped cognac while circling the saucer and surreptitiously eyeing the members of other delegations. In a far corner of the hangar, Hedrick had an ensemble playing chamber music.

One of the Russians approached Charley. He was in his midthirties, with shoulders an ax handle wide, narrow hips, high cheekbones. “You fly terrific,” the Russian told Charley.

Hedrick approached the senior Japanese delegate, a distinguished corporate type with graying hair and an aide at each elbow. Charley Pine edged closer so that she could hear what was said. The Russian stayed with her. Rigby brought up the rear.

“The saucer is what Japan needs,” Hedrick said smoothly, “to power Japan out of the economic malaise that has paralyzed her these last few years.”

“Yes, Mr. Hedrick,” the senior man replied, in perfectly understandable English. “The advantages inherent in the technology could be very significant.”

“I also am a test pilot,” the Russian told Charley. “I fly for Mikoyan. Test experimental fighters, fly air shows… Have you seen the Paris Air Show?”

“Alas, no,” Charley said and concentrated on Hedrick. “Reactors, antigravity, computers, metallurgy, hydrogen from water…” Roger Hedrick shook his head slowly, as if the very thought of all these technological achievements made his head throb. “The money Japan spends each year on foreign oil would purchase a dozen saucers.”

“You have a dozen?” the Japanese gentleman asked with a straight face.

“Sorry,” Hedrick replied seriously, “just the one.”

“We were wondering about the legal title to the saucer, Mr. Hedrick. The reach of American courts is legendary, and we understand the saucer was in the United States recently.”

“Very briefly,” Hedrick agreed, nodding his head. “What assurance can you give us that your title is… clear?”

“What I am selling, sir, is hardware, not paper. The winning bidder tomorrow will fly the saucer wherever he chooses.”

“I see.”

“Only the strong survive,” Hedrick continued. “The saucer will make some nation very strong.”

“… A beautiful woman,” the Russian was saying, “should never sleep alone.”

Charley Pine turned to him with a start. “What makes you think I sleep alone?”

The senior Chinese official did not speak English, so Hedrick’s translator adroitly appeared at his elbow as Hedrick approached, with Charley Pine and her entourage a few paces behind.

“Mr. Wu, it is a great honor having the vice premier of the People’s Republic here as my guest.”

Wu nodded and puffed furiously on his cigar.

Hedrick steamed on. “I hope you are as impressed with the saucer as I have been these last few days.”

“Yes, yes,” said Wu between puffs, according to the translator.

“Perhaps the hour has finally come for China to surpass Japan as the superpower in Asia.”

Wu looked at his watch.

A bit nonplussed, Hedrick continued, “With a billion and a half people, China needs the nuclear technology contained in this machine.” He laid a manicured hand on the saucer. “Freedom from oil, a clean, safe fuel, computer technology fifty years ahead of its time—the saucer will give some nation a huge technological lift. In the right hands, it might allow a national economy to leapfrog decades of development.”

“Perhaps it confers too large an advantage,” Wu muttered and appeared to lose himself in thought and tobacco smoke.

“I have had much experience with matters romantic,” the Russian test pilot said softly to Charley Pine, who had missed the last sixty seconds of his pickup spiel.

Ten feet away, Roger Hedrick gazed at the saucer as if it were a holy relic for a few more seconds, then moved off toward the small knot of people surrounding the senior European.

Charley looked up into her Russian’s warm blue eyes, smiled distractedly, then launched off after Hedrick.

Hedrick made an oblique approach to Pieraut, who was in conference with the German and Italian, as usual. “Here, gentlemen,” he said, sweeping his hand at the saucer, “is the catalyst to allow the European economy to catch and surpass the United States. Think what the technology you have seen today could do for the European aerospace industry! Gentlemen, the time has come to expand our horizons, to realize that there are no limits. None at all.”

“Unfortunately,” the German said, “there are always limits, Mr. Hedrick. The saucer has to be paid for, one way or another. But we were wondering, why are the Americans not here? The British?”

“I did not invite the Americans or the British,” Hedrick said. “I suspect they might be tempted to try to take the saucer from me by force or legal process.”

“Have they a legal claim?”

“Of course not. The saucer was discovered by an employee of a company of mine. I own the saucer and have the right to do with it what I will. My intention is to sell it to the highest bidder.”

The Italian looked skeptical, Charley Pine thought. After handshakes with every member of the delegation, Hedrick moved on.

The senior Russian was a fiery young man named Krasnoyarsk. The Russian translator hovered at Hedrick’s elbow. “An extraordinary device, is it not, Mr. Krasnoyarsk?”

“Quite extraordinary.”

“The nation that mines the technology embodied in the saucer will gain a large competitive advantage,” Hedrick murmured. “Here is the catalyst that will enable Russia once again to become a superpower.”

“Russia is a poor nation, Mr. Hedrick,” said Krasnoyarsk with sadness in his voice. “I am wondering why a man who wants so much money would invite my government to participate in this auction. Surely you don’t think we have the foreign exchange to pay twenty, thirty, forty billion dollars or more for this?” He gestured with his left hand.

“Can Russia afford not to own this technology?”

Charley missed Krasnoyarsk’s reply because the Russian test pilot moved in front of her. She blew smoke in his face and stepped around him.

Krasnoyarsk was saying, “Mr. Hedrick, if you were selling tickets to heaven for a hundred dollars each, very few Russians could afford to purchase one. Instead, we would jump up and down outside on the sidewalk, shouting, ‘Isn’t that cheap? Isn’t that cheap?’”

“I understand Russia lacks the foreign exchange to make an outright purchase.”

“At least this trip offered us a nice airplane ride and some fine cognac and cigars,” said Krasnoyarsk after he listened to the translation. “After the collapse of communism, we could no longer afford Mr. Castro’s fine cigars.”