"I – see." Conant indulged in a four-second gloat. "Heaven help the utility companies. I don’t intend to. Kidder – I want a full-size power transmitter."
Kidder clucked into the radiophone. "Ambitious, aren’t you? I haven’t a staff out here, Conant – you know that. And I can’t be expected to build four or five thousand tons of apparatus myself."
"I’ll have five hundred engineers and laborers out there in forty-eight hours."
"You will not. Why bother me with it? I’m quite happy here, Conant, and one of the reasons is that I’ve got no one to get in my hair."
"Oh, now, Kidder – don’t be like that – I’ll pay you—"
"You haven’t got that much money," said Kidder briskly. He flipped the switch on his set. His switch worked.
Conant was furious. He shouted into the phone several times, then began to lean on the signal button. On his island, Kidder let the thing squeal and went back to his projection room. He was sorry he had sent the diagram of the receiver to Conant. It would have been interesting to power a plane or a car with the model transmitter he had taken from the Neoterics. But if Conant was going to be that way about it – well, anyway, the receiver would be no good without the transmitter. Any radio engineer would understand the diagram, but not the beam which activated it. And Conant wouldn’t get his beam.
Pity he didn’t know Conant well enough.
Kidder’s days were endless sorties into learning. He never slept, nor did his Neoterics. He ate regularly every five hours, exercised for half an hour in every twelve. He did not keep track of time, for it meant nothing to him. Had he wanted to know the date, or the year, even, he knew he could get it from Conant. He didn’t care, that’s all. The time that was not spent in observation was used in developing new problems for the Neoterics. His thoughts just now ran to defense. The idea was born in his conversation with Conant; now the idea was primary, its motivation something of no importance. The Neoterics were working on a vibration field of quasi-electrical nature. Kidder could see little practical value in such a thing – an invisible wall which would kill any living thing which touched it. But still – the idea was intriguing.
He stretched and moved away from the telescope in the upper room through which he had been watching his creations at work. He was profoundly happy here in the large control room. Leaving it to go to the old laboratory for a bite to eat was a thing he hated, to do. He felt like bidding it good-by each time he walked across the compound, and saying a glad hello when he returned. A little amused at himself, he went out.
There was a black blob – a distant power boat – a few miles off the island, toward the mainland. Kidder stopped and stared distastefully at it. A white petal of spray was affixed to each side of the black body – it was coming toward him. He snorted, thinking of the time a yachtload of silly fools had landed out of curiosity one afternoon, spewed themselves over his beloved island, peppered him with lame-brained questions, and thrown his nervous equilibrium out for days. Lord, how he hated people!
The thought of unpleasantness bred two more thoughts that played half-consciously with his mind as he crossed the compound and entered the old laboratory. One was that perhaps it might be wise to surround his buildings with a field of force of some kind and post warnings for trespassers. The other thought was of Conant and the vague uneasiness the man had been sending to him through the radiophone these last weeks. His suggestion, two days ago, that a power plant be built on the island – horrible idea!
Conant rose from a laboratory bench as Kidder walked in.
They looked at each other wordlessly for a long moment Kidder hadn’t seen the bank president in years. The man’s presence, he found, made his scalp crawl. "Hello," said Conant genially. "You’re looking fit."
Kidder grunted. Conant eased his unwieldy body back onto the bench and said, "Just to save you the energy of asking questions, Mr. Kidder, I arrived two hours ago on, a small boat. Rotten way to travel. I wanted to be a surprise to you; my two men rowed me the last couple of miles. You’re not very well equipped here for defense, are you? Why, anyone could slip up on you the way I did."
"Who’d want to?" growled Kidder. The man’s voice edged annoyingly into his brain. He spoke too loudly for such a small room; at least, Kidder’s hermit’s ears felt that way. Kidder shrugged and went about preparing a light meal for himself.
"Well," drawled the banker. "I might want to." He drew out a Dow-metal cigar case. "Mind if I smoke?"
"I do," said Kidder sharply.
Conant laughed easily and put the cigars away. "I might," he said, "want to urge you to let me build that power station on this island."
"Radiophone work?"
"Oh, yes. But now that I’m here you can’t switch me off. Now – how about it?"
"I haven’t changed my mind."
"Oh, but you should, Kidder, you should. Think of it – think of the good it would do for the masses of people that are now paying exorbitant power bills!"
"I hate the masses! Why do you have to build here?"
"Oh, that. It’s an ideal location. You own the island; work could begin here without causing any comment whatsoever. The plant would spring full-fledged on the power markets of the country, having been built in secret. The island can be made impregnable."
"I don’t want to be bothered."
"We wouldn’t bother you. We’d build on the north end of the island – a mile and a quarter from you and your work. Ah – by the way – where’s the model of the power transmitter?"
Kidder, with his mouth full of synthesized food, waved a hand at a small table on which stood the model, a four-foot, amazingly intricate device of plastic and steel and tiny coils.
Conant rose and went over to look at it. "Actually works, eh?" He sighed deeply and said, "Kidder, I really hate to do this, but I want to build that plant rather badly.
"Carson! Robbins!"
Two bull-necked individuals stepped out from their hiding places in the corners of the room. One idly dangled a revolver by its trigger guard. Kidder looked blankly from one to the other of them.
"These gentlemen will follow my orders implicitly, Kidder. In half an hour a party will land here – engineers, contractors. They will start surveying the north end of the island for the construction of the power plant. These boys here feel about the same way I do as far as you are concerned. Do we proceed with your cooperation or without it? It’s immaterial to me whether or not you are left alive to continue your work. My engineers can duplicate your model."
Kidder said nothing. He had stopped chewing when he saw the gunmen, and only now remembered to swallow. He sat crouched over his plate without moving or speaking.
Conant broke the silence by walking to the door. "Robbins – can you carry that model there?" The big man put his gun away, lifted the model gently, and nodded. "Take it down to the beach and meet the other boat. Tell Mr. Johansen, the engineer, that this is the model he is to work from." Robbins went out. Conant turned to Kidder.
"There’s no need for us to anger ourselves," he said oilily. "I think you are stubborn, but I don’t hold it against you. I know how you feel. You’ll be left alone: you have my promise. But I mean to go ahead on this job, and a small thing like your life can’t stand in my way."
Kidder said, "Get out of here." There were two swollen veins throbbing at his temples. His voice was low, and it shook.
"Very well. Good day, Mr. Kidder. Oh – by the way – you’re a clever devil." No one had ever referred to the scholastic Mr. Kidder that way before. "I realize the possibility of your blasting us off the island. I wouldn’t do it if I were you. I’m willing to give you what you want – privacy. I want the same thing in return. If anything happens to me while I’m here, the island will be bombed by someone who is working for me; I’ll admit they might fail. If they do, the United States government will take a hand. You wouldn’t want that, would you? That’s rather a big thing for one man to fight. The same thing goes if the plant is sabotaged in any way after I go back to the mainland. You might be killed. You will most certainly be bothered interminably. Thanks for your… er… cooperation." The banker smirked and walked out, followed by his taciturn gorilla.