“I won’t be a one-shot,” said Mart, “I’ve been thinking of the same problems. In the spring we'll have another little gadget to follow up the rocket. I think we should acquire the increased space on a rental basis. Tool up to produce all the rockets the trade can stand. We can afford the capital investment and any subsequent loss on it.”
“That’s all I wanted to know,” said Sam.
Although every news service in the country had given the Nagle Rocket a brief play, it was Joe Baird, the nightly TV columnist, who continued to pick at the bones of the story as if not satisfied that all the meat was out of it. Mart was never quite sure where Baird got his leads, but he was quite satisfied to see the columnist’s thin face and hear his somewhat squeaky voice announce with its full capacity for insinuation: “What former high-ranking Government scientist is now peddling toys for a living because Uncle’s pay check wasn’t big enough? This same scientist is scheduled shortly to be the subject of a series of investigations regarding his use of certain scientific principles for the production of toys instead of for the essential welfare of our nation. A big ripe, raspberry to the man who might be among the first to take his nation to the Moon — and is content merely to entertain the kids.”
Mart had no idea whether Baird had inside information or whether he was shooting in the dark. At any rate his agitation was encouraging. It promised results.
The office of Nagle and Berkeley, Basic Research Consultants, was not one to attract customers in large numbers, or particularly before hours. But on the morning following Baird’s denunciation Mart came down to open up and found a visitor waiting at the end of the long hall near the locked door of the office. The man was wearing a gray, slightly mashed felt hat and carried a brief case which he rested on the radiator as he looked out the window. Mart gave him a curious glance and fitted the key to the lock. Then he almost closed the door in the stranger’s face as the latter hurried towards the office.
“I beg your pardon! I didn’t know you were looking for our office.”
“You are Dr. Martin Nagle?” the man said.
Mart nodded. “Toymaker extraordinary. Please come in.”
“Very extraordinary, I would say.” The man deposited his hat and offered his hand. “My name is Don Wolfe. I am chief engineer at Apex Aircraft. There are a few things I would like to talk over with you.”
Mart smiled and led the way to his own office. “Please sit down. If you’re here concerning the adaptability of the Nagle Rocket to aircraft propulsion, the answer is no. Not in its present form. And that being what you came to ask about I suppose you have had a long trip for nothing.”