During the same afternoon Mart’s attention was attracted to a patron of the club, who was what Mart had come to label an ungambler. There were gamblers and non-gamblers, and sometimes it was hard to tell them apart. But a pure ungambler could be spotted at a glance.
This particular specimen sat in the front row of the amphitheater staring at the Volcano almost as if in a trance. He moved only occasionally to polish the glass of his spectacles with the large white handkerchief, which he withdrew with a flourish. He made bets. A considerable number of them. He did not win a single time. Mart felt like telling him to give it up. You have to have just a trace, at least, of ESP or you haven’t got a chance. Successful gamblers were loaded with it. The ungamblers were apparently born with a total lack of it.
Mart finally resisted the impulse to protect the fellow from his own deficiencies, and turned away from the amphitheater. He saw that Berk was also watching from a post near the cashier’s cage.
“FBI, I’d say,” said Berk.
“Him? Not a chance. Probably a fresh MA in English Literature. I hate to see the poor guy throwing away his money, but what can I do?”
It was almost closing time that night before this particular patron gave up his seat and left the building. They had a house rule requiring betting on at least one game in four in order to keep the seat. Evidently the man had run out of minimum dollar bets. Even so, he seemed reluctant to give up his seat and leave.
Mart half expected him to show up the next day, but he made no appearance. On the second day following, he did show up, however, and Mart almost choked in surprise to see who was accompanying the ungambling stranger.
It was the willowy figure of his old friend, Dr. Jennings.
Jennings’ face lighted with pleased surprise as he recognized Mart inside the doorway of the Volcano Club.
“Welcome to our establishment,” said Mart, grinning. “I didn’t know you went in for connivance with lady luck and the wheel of fortune. It’s a pleasure to see you here, anyway.”
“Nor I, you,” said Jennings wryly. “I didn’t see Baird’s piece until it was called to my attention several days later. By that time, Roy here was pulling my coat tails and demanding I come and see what you were up to. By the way, have you met Roy yet? He said he spent a day here, but didn’t make himself known.”
Mart beckoned to Berk, and they turned to the man they had watched lose his money two days before.
“Dr. Roy Goodman, of AEC,” said Jennings. “He, too, is not a gambling man, and he tells me you have formed in him a firm conviction to stay that way the rest of his life.”
Mart took Dr. Goodman’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I almost asked you to leave the other day. Some people have it and some don’t. If you don’t, you might as well let the ponies and bingo tables alone.
“And the Volcanoes?” said Goodman.
“And the Volcanoes. They won’t do you any good, either.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said Goodman. “I was so unsure of it that I went all the way to Los Angeles and brought Dr. Jennings back to help verify my opinion.”
“And that opinion is —?” said Mart.
“That the Volcano may be the source of a great deal of good for us. Do you mind if I ask Dr. Jennings to form his own opinion?”
“As you wish, gentlemen,” said Mart.
Jennings laughed a bit uncertainly. “Well, let’s have a look. I certainly don’t know what this is all about. I suppose it’s on a level with Nagle Rockets and Teleports. Roy has a mystery, too, and I am completely mystified by you both.”
“How about dinner when you’re through?” said Berk. “We’ll get together and try to unmystify one another.”
“That does it,” said Mart as he watched the two men take seats in the amphitheater. “That does it, or I miss my guess. After they get through with their looking we can pack our trunks and go home.”
“The AEC, did Jennings say?” Berk asked.
“None other.”
Jennings and Goodman stayed inside for a long time. Finally, they came out into the orange sunlight of early evening. Jennings’ face seemed pale, as if he had been out of the sunlight for a long time. His hands trembled perceptibly as he lit a thin cigar.
“The food at our hotel is very good,” said Mart.
Jennings nodded. Neither he nor his companion said a word. The four men turned and walked all the way to the hotel in silence. Only as they sat down to the table and picked up the menu did Jennings emerge from his remoteness.
“Baked ham,” he murmured to the waitress. “And make the coffee strong. Very strong.”
Then, while they waited, he folded his hands on the table and settled his eyes on Mart. “I know you too well,” he said, “to ask if you are simply pulling our leg, but I have to ask it, anyway.”
Mart shook his head. “You’ll have to tell me what you mean by that. I have shown you only a contraption for parting dollars from suckers — with apologies and exceptions to present company,” he smiled as he glanced in Dr. Goodman’s direction.
The AEC man gave no notice that he’d heard.
“Only two kinds of men could produce the Volcano,” said Jennings. “One would be merely a fool who had stumbled on the design by accident and didn’t know what he’d made. The other would be a genius who knew exactly what he had — a genius whose brilliance was so great that he could afford to sit back and laugh at the rest of us scratching our heads and looking silly trying to figure it out.”
“Nobody’s laughing,” said Mart soberly. “But you’ve got to say it.”
“All right,” said Jennings. “That Volcano of yours is nothing but an extremely exact hyper scale model of a radioactive atomic nucleus, complete with potential barrier penetration in full operation.
“You’re telling us that you know the full basic theory behind nuclear structure and phenomena. You’re telling us that you know what happens in a radioactive atom. And you’re thumbing your nose at us while you say it. Why? Why have you done this to us, Mart?”
Mart looked down at the tablecloth and traced the pattern in the linen with his fingernail. “Not that,” he said. “I’m not deriding you. I’m ready to tell you why. I’m ready to tell anyone who figures out the Volcano for himself. After dinner, up in our own room.”
The rest of the meal passed in almost complete silence. Berk and Mart knew that Jennings wanted to talk. They knew he was thinking of their last association, on Project Levitation, but he couldn’t speak of that with Goodman present.
The AEC man seemed to sense that he was something of an intruder. As the silence continued, a look of disgruntled determination settled upon his face, as if he intended not to be left out of any secrets that might pass between the others.
Afterwards, they went up to Mart’s room. Carolyn and the children had gone to a show, so they were alone. Jennings lit a fresh cigar and sat down by a window where he could see the haze of lights and desert dust over Las Vegas. Mart stood a moment near the window, looking out. Then he turned.
“I want a patent on what I’ve got,” he said. “That’s all I’m after. Nothing but a patent.”
Jennings blew a cloud of smoke into the air and looked up quizzically. Goodman lurched impatiently in his chair. “You have patents!” the AEC man said. “I even wired Washington and had a copy of the Volcano patents sent out while I went to Los Angeles. You’re covered on everything you’ve done!”
But already Jennings was smiling as he watched Mart through the haze of cigar smoke that was fading between them. “So you want a patent!” he murmured. “I should have guessed that it would be something oblique like that, since you were teamed up with Berk. This is Berk’s angle, isn’t it?”