The Quick Brown Fox Page 17

  Rose Harris stared at his departing figure before calling out with concern at the top of her voice. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. What did I say?’

  He pretended not to hear the question and carried on walking slowly towards the exit, however his assistant approached her to ameliorate the situation and offered her a brief explanation

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘Professor Ward doesn’t intend to be rude.’

  ‘I don’t understand it. If he didn’t like Robert, why did he come?’ asked Rose perplexedly.

  ‘He came here today in the hope that certain papers would become evident... perhaps even be buried with the body of your husband. ‘

  Rose Harris stared at her in confusion. ‘Buried with the body of my husband?’ she repeated with concern. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  The assistant hesitated for a few moments before revealing the truth of the matter. ‘Mr. Harris joined a company called Resource Energy where he was to work with the Professor a couple of years ago. The Professor was working on a formula for a heating process called hydrogentics. Mr. Harris, had only been with him for a month when he realised the fantastic potential for the project, and he stole the formula and the notes relating to the process before disappearing. We learned that he became employed by another company called Universal Energy and continued to work on the hydrogenetics process claiming it for himself. Naturally, the Professor was furious when he found out. Fortunately he had copies of the formula and the notes but that wasn’t the point. It was being effected by another company.’

  ‘What was the point?’ intruded Mr. G. overhearing the dialogue and becoming angry at learning the truth. ‘The formula was only 75% proven. The Professor was still working on it. It hadn’t been completed. There was a lot more evaluation to be undertaken on the final 25% before the process could be proved to be of any value let alone put to the test. We came to find out whether anyone at Univesal Energy had perfected the theory but there doesn’t seem to be anyone here from the company. The only other hope was that your husband insisted on being buried with the papers and we hoped that we might be able to retrieve them.’

  ‘What kind of tomfoolery is this?’ demanded the one-armed entrepreneur turning to Rose irately. ‘Did you know anything about this?’

  ‘No I did not!’ she retorted emphatically. ‘He never said a word about it. He told me that there was a personality clash with his superior at Resource Energy and that he left under a cloud. I knew nothing about him stealing a formula.’

  Mr. G. snorted angrily as the truth emerged, slapping his one arm against his thigh. ‘My God!’ he snapped, trying to hold back his temper. ‘Your husband was not only a fool and an idiot but a thief to boot!’

  ‘He worked at Resource Energy for just over a week before taking off with all the details of hydrogenetics,’ continued the assistant. You can imagine how strongly Professor Ward felt especially when he learned that his theory had been finalised and was being put to the test by another company, That’s why he was hoping to be able to retrieve the formula, if it had been completed, at this funeral. You can understand his frustration.’

  At that moment, Professor Ward turned around to face them and he called out at the top of his voice. ‘Are you coming, Sally? I’m damned-well getting drenched hanging about here!’

  ‘Must go!’ muttered the assistant and, without another word, she hurried off to join him.

  Mr. G stamped his foot on the ground in anger, ‘Who would believe it?’ he remonstrated with fury showing in his eyes, ‘He actually stole the incomplete formula and tried to finish it by himself! What was in his mind? He must have been the most incompetent scientist on the planet to think that he could get away with something so dynamic! Forgive me for saying this Rose but the man was a complete idiot!’

  You can call him what you like but it doesn’t change the situation. To be honest, I feel sorry for you. I mean you spent a great deal of time and effort to make arrangements on the project and I feel responsible for having told you about the process in the first place.’

  ‘You’re not to blame at all,’ he told her candidly. ‘It was that fool of a husband who caused all the trouble.’ He turned to Don Wise sharply. ‘You worked with him closely. Did you know anything about this?’

  The scientist shook his head sadly. ‘Not a thing,’ he returned innocently. ‘He came in one morning and told me he had this great idea about a theory which he termed hydrogentics. I had nothing to do with it. He told me that he had completed the formula but clearly it was a figment of his imagination. He simply hoped, or believed, that he had figured it out.’

  Mr. G shook his head slowly. ‘I hate being fooled,’ he went on irately. I don’t care how sharp or astute people are in their endeavours but I hate being fooled.’

  Don decided not to venture further into the conversation and wisely said nothing more as he moved quickly towards the exit.

  ‘I think you need to draw a line underneath it all and move on,’ suggested Rose hopeful in calming the man down as they walked on.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ charged the one-armed entrepreneur.

  ‘What’s there to understand,’ she returned with a bland expression on her face. ‘He stole part of a formula and couldn’t make it work. Nothing was lost, nothing was gained.’

  ‘You’re simply whitewashing the situation,’ countered Mr. G. curtly. ‘If the process was successful and the testing proved positive, Universal Energy would find itself on the end of a litigation procedure because Resource Energy would certainly summons them for the theft of the idea, and larceny with regard to the formula and the accompanying notes. Without doubt they would litigate against them. Until that was sorted out, no one in the world would be able to take advantage of the benefits of the process if it proved to be successful. No one would touch it with a bargepole and the litigation would go on for years, Your stupid husband would have deprived the whole world of all the benefits that nations could have shared.’

  ‘I didn’t know about any of this,’ bleated Rose tearfully, ‘He hid it from me He simply told me that he left Resource Energy because of a personality clash with his boss there.’

  They came into line with Don Wise who decided to intervene at that point. ‘‘What surprises me,’ he added, ‘was the fact that he must have worked on that formula for two years without saying a word about it to anyone.’

  ‘It’s a pity the Professor or his company didn’t take the man to task in between. That would have resolved it once and for all,’ added the one-armed entrepreneur.

  They moved swiftly towards the exit with Mr. G. fuming at every step of the way. ‘Well,’ he went on as his temper subsided, ‘ I shall have to cast my net a little wider. As far as I’m concerned, the heating process has turned out to be a dead loss even if the testing proves to be positive. Professor Ward’s not going to let Universal Energy get away with it, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Don’t take it too badly,’ suggested Rose amiably, ‘You didn’t lose anything.’

  ‘Only time,’ retorted the entrepreneur. ‘And that you can’t get back however much you try. No... I don’t suffer fools and I’m afraid your husband was one of them. It’s even worse to learn that he was a thief as well. He may be dead but he still has a lot to answer for.’ He turned sharply to Don Wise accusingly ‘And I do blame you. You worked closely with the man. You should have been more on the ball!’

  The scientist was pleased that he had bandages covering the whole of his face because his expression was equally one of anger. To his mind, the accusation made by the one-armed entrepreneur was most unfair. How could he possibly be responsible for the actions of a work colleague who insisted on going it alone? Yes... they did work closely together but he couldn’t read the mind of the man with regard to the process. It was a monstrous suggestion!

  Don returned to the laborato
ry a short while later as Rose had not prepared any refreshments for the wake because she hadn’t expected anyone else other than Mr.G and herself to be in attendance at the funeral. Anya stared at him as he walked in expecting him to tell her about it but he remained silent.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked eventually.

  He shook his head sadly. ‘The funeral was pretty miserable as one would expect,’ he told her flatly. ‘It was quite obvious that his wife didn’t give a fig. There were only five of us there. It was what came out of it that will blow your mind.’

  She stared at him with a puzzled expression on her face ‘What will blow my mind?’

  He paused for a moment before replying. ‘It seems that our Mr. Harris was hiding an awful secret,’ he told her seriously. ‘It was alleged that a Professor who worked with him briefly in a previous employment was working on a formula for a heating process called hydrogenetics. Our illustrious colleague, whom you didn’t know, had the audacity to steal the formula and the notes to work on it himself for the glory.’

  ‘Really?’ she retorted with surprise. ‘Tell me more!’

  The Professor came along in the hope that someone from Universal Energy would be there to advise him about the process and how it was being developed. You see Robert Harris stole the formula but it was only seventy-five per cent proven. The other twenty-five per cent had to be worked out to its conclusion. It seems that Harris made up the last twenty-five per cent himself.’

  Anya gasped at the revelation. ‘Is this a wind-up?’ she questioned suspiciously. ‘You’re having me on, aren’t you?’

  No, I’m serious,’ he told her. ‘That’s exactly the way heard it. The Professor only completed seventy-five per cent of the formula. What really annoyed me was that one man there blamed me for not being on the ball. How could I know that Harris stole the formula?’

  She stared at him sympathetically ‘How could you have known that he stole it from another company. That’s a pretty unfair accusation.’

  Don shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘Ah, don’t worry about it. When something goes wrong, people always look for someone else to blame. I happened to be the only one there who worked with him.’

  ‘No wonder I couldn’t make head nor tail of the formula. Mr. Harris imply made it up in his own mind. He obviously tried to fathom it out but he couldn’t do so. That’s the truth of the matter. He was simply wasting everyone’s time.’

  That’s what I said at the funeral. He was wasting everyone’s time. But there’s worse to come. You see even if the process is tested and is proved to be successful, Resource Energy, for whom the Professor works, will claim it to belong to them. Universal Energy will be at the long end of a series of litigation to say the least.’

  ‘Maybe Mr. Harris was hoping for the arrival of an alien to assist him with the formula. That’s what happened in the film THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STIL,’ she advanced tentatively.

  ‘What was that about?’ he asked moving towards the coffee machine.

  ‘An alien comes to Earth to warn of the dangers of continuing wars on the population which will render it to extinction,’ she explained delighted to recount the story. ‘He goes to the home of a scientist who’s out somewhere else and looks at a blackboard covered with details of a formula. He follows it towards the end and then shakes his head, picking up a blackboard cleaner and wiping some of it to chalk in the real thing. When the scientist returns, he looks at the blackboard and notices the change with awe, suddenly realising that the formula can now work.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ he retorted sadly. ‘Do you know of any aliens who might help us.’

  ‘I’d rather work closer to home,’ she returned, ‘with people I know.’

  ‘I think we should start to put our heads together more often,’ he ventured.

  ‘Maybe you should do so more often,’ she uttered warmly showing her affection for him for the first time.

  ‘Yes I will,’ he told her ardently with a dozen thoughts passing through his mind. ‘You can count on it.’

  Unable to see the expressions on their faces they returned to their desks, each of them thinking about anything but work.

  The following morning, the life of the brainstorming unit was about to change dramatically. A facsimile was received which explained that David Coleman was not going to return and that his work would be undertaken by Martin Tarrant on a one-year appointment. The message told them nothing about the man or his qualifications and they presumed that, in time, he would eventually make himself known to them.

  ‘What do you think?’ Don asked Anya as she read the message.

  ‘He can’t be any worse than the last man. From what I knew of him, he did absolutely nothing but receive a monthly salary. In my opinion, a new man to a unit such as this will impose himself by introducing new rules and changing the system. It’s been done repeatedly since Roman times.’

  ‘Well I hope he doesn’t interfere too much,’ related Don with concern. ‘I know we don’t produce much but it’s a very comfortable haven for us. And who knows, we might come up with something really valuable at some time in the near future.’’

  He moved towards her and Anya picked up a large sketch pad from her desk and pushed it quickly into a drawer. Don noticed that her body language was less than casual as she did so, causing him to become suspicious. In days of old, he would not have recognised the awkwardness but it had been something drilled into him by Mai Wan... body language!

  ‘What did you have there?’ he asked impertinently, not taking his eyes off her mask.

  ‘Nothing to do with work,’ she told him bluntly. ‘It’s personal.’

  ‘I don’t wish to pry,’ he persisted, ‘but I’m interested in what you do, Let me see it?’

  She hesitated for a moment before opening the drawer to remove the sketchpad. ‘It’s just something I do in my spare time. Nothing of any importance.’

  ‘Let me see,’ he went on holding out his hand.

  She passed the sketch pad to him and he opened up the cover to look at the first drawing. His eyes opened widely as he viewed the first page with awe following the pencil line drawing of a ferocious lion. The details were so carefully drawn that the picture looked almost real, while the background appeared to be so three-dimensional that it looked as though the animal was a leap out of the page. He turned to the next page to view the portrait of a young girl in great detail.

  ‘That’s the young girl who lives in the apartment downstairs. Her mother let me do a portrait of her.’

  ‘How many drawings have you done so far?’ he asked with great interest turning over to the next page.

  ‘I have a few sketchpads full of therm. About forty drawings in all. I had to leave five sketchpads of them in Uzbekistan when we left. There wasn’t any more room to bring them.’

  He screwed up his face at her response. ‘These are terrific!’ he gasped. ‘Absolutely terrific! You have such a wonderful talent!’ He hesitated as his mind moved to Jake, the ex-convict, and he advanced a suggestion. ‘You know, a friend of mine could sell these for a good profit on the open market There must be hundreds of people willing to pay quite a sum for drawings of this quality.’

  ‘No... I don’t want to do that!’ she returned quickly. ‘I love doing it for pleasure. If I had to draw on commission, there would be no fun in it.’

  ‘As you wish,’ he returned slowly turning to the next page to look at the next remarkable drawing. ‘You have a great gift. It’s amazing!’

  ‘You’re the one who’s amazing,’ she retorted. ‘When I first saw you just a few months ago, you were overweight, you stuttered, you were tongue-tied and, to be honest, not very pretty to look at.’ Now... in such a short time... you’ve changed dramatically. You’ve lost so much weight and you’ve become a man of the world! That in itself is a tremendous
achievement even though I still can’t see your face.’

  He stared at her with an element of pride. A man of the world! Well that was a new one to him having been a pariah all his life, bullied by all and sundry. A man of the world! At that moment something stirred deeply inside him and he realised that he was beginning to fall in love with her. The problem was that he had told her that as soon as the bandages were removed from his face he would start to play the field, seeking out women for his own pleasure. As far as she was concerned, he would hardly be interested in the female with whom he worked... a woman who came from

  ‘Would you mind if I took photocopies of these drawings?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘What for?’ she countered suspiciously. ‘What do you intend to do with them?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he declared candidly. ‘Maybe I’ll frame some of them to hang on the walls of my bedsit. They look pretty bare to say the least.’

  But these are only black and white pencil drawings not paintings. They’ll look pretty dull.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he retorted carelessly. ‘They’ll always remind me of you.’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to go against my will and sell them,’ she added with concern. ‘You know how I feel about that,’

  ‘You can trust me,’ he confided eagerly. ‘Your wishes will be my command. I have no intention of selling them. You can visit my bedsit to see them hanging there. It’ll be far better than the mindless wallpaper on the walls at present.’

  She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘Okay, if you insist,’ she conceded reluctantly. ‘If you must, go ahead. But don’t damage the originals.’

  ‘I’ll take the utmost care,’ he told her. ‘You have nothing to worry about. ‘She handed him the sketchpad and he left the room to make the copies. Fifteen minutes later he returned and passed it back to her before placing the copies into his desk drawer. ‘You are really something, Anya Smirnoff As an artist you have a tremendous future.’