"That I should have trouble raising steamer-fare to any place at all,"
he said without cordiality. "And I will. You had that information too,
didn't you?"
"Please!" she said with distress. "You make it sound--"
"Did you have any idea what I'd charge to assemble the device you want?"
"If you'll name a price."
Terry named one. He was angry. The sum was far from a small one. It was,
in fact, exorbitant. But he felt that he'd made a fool of himself,
responding to her encouragement by telling her things she already knew.
She opened her purse and peeled off bills. She put them down.
"I'll leave the paddle with you," she said crisply. "Our boat is the
_Esperance_. You'll find it...." She named the anchorage, which was that
of Manila's most expensive yacht club. "There's a launch which will
bring you out whenever you're ready to sail. It would be nice if you
could sail tomorrow--and nicer if you could come aboard today."
She nodded in friendly fashion, opened the door--the bell jangled--and
went out.
Terry blinked. Then he swore and snatched up the pile of bills. Two
fluttered to the floor and he lost time picking them up. He went out
after her, the money in his hand.
He saw a taxicab door close behind her, three or four doors down the
street. Instantly the cab was in mad career away. The taxicabs of Manila
are driven by a special breed of chauffeurs. It is said that they are
all escaped lunatics with homicidal tendencies. The cab went roaring
down the Calle Enero's cluttered length and turned the corner.
Terry went back to the shop. He swore again. He looked at the money in
his hand. It totalled exactly the excessive amount he'd named as the
price of an electronic fish-driving unit, including an underwater horn.
"The devil!" he said angrily.
He felt the special indignation some men feel when they are in
difficulties which their pride requires them to surmount by themselves,
and somebody tries to help. The indignation is the greater as they see
less chance of success on their own.
Terry's situation was offensive to him because he shouldn't be in this
kind of situation at all, or rather, his troubles were not foreseeable
by the most competent of graduate electronic engineers. He'd trained for
the work he'd undertaken. He'd prepared himself for competence. At
graduation he'd encountered the representatives of at least three large
corporations who were snapping up engineers as soon as they left the
cloistered halls of learning. Terry'd asked how many men were employed
in the category he'd fit in. When one representative boasted that ten
thousand such engineers were on his company's payroll, Terry declined at
once. He wanted to accomplish something himself, not as part of a team
of some thousands of members. The smaller the organization, the better
one's chance for personal satisfaction. He wouldn't make as much money,
but--
It was a matter of simple logic. If he was better off with a really
small company, he'd be best off on his own. And he'd nearly managed it.
He'd worked only with Jimenez. Jimenez was the sales organization. Terry
was the production staff. In Manila there was certainly room for special
electronic equipment--_especialidades electrónicas y físicas_. He should
have had an excellent chance to build up a good business. Starting
small, even without capital, he'd confidently expected to be going
strong within months. There were taxi fleets to be equipped with
short-wave radio. There were burglar alarms to be designed and
installed, and all sorts of setups to be engineered. And these things
were still in demand. His expectations had a solid foundation. Nobody
could have anticipated the disaster caused by _La Rubia's_ phenomenal
success in commercial fishery. It was even irrational for it to be a
disaster to Terry. But it was.
More immediately, though, he was indignant because this girl had known
all about him when she came into the shop. She'd probably even known
about his gimmicking a standard-design submarine listening device so it
was really good and really directional. But she'd let him talk, asking
seemingly interested questions, when she knew the whole business
beforehand. And at the end she'd done a most infuriating thing by paying
him in advance for something he'd refused to do, thereby forcing him
into the obligation to do it.
He fretted. He needed the money. But he objected to being tricked. He
went back to the probably senseless business of taking an inventory.
Time passed. Nothing happened. Nobody came to the shop. The police had
been firm about _La Rubia_ crewmen calling on Terry to make threats.
They'd been equally firm about other people calling to make
counterthreats. No casual customers entered. Two hours went by.
At four o'clock the door opened--with the sound of its tinkling
bell--and Police Captain Felicio Horta came in.
"_Buenas tardes_," he said cordially.
Terry grunted at him.
"I hear," said Horta, "that you leave Manila."