One of the technicians came in, wiping his forehead with a big blue bandana. “Well, there she goes. Mr. Sorensen, if that thing is dangerous, hadn’t we better back off a little way from it?”
“It isn’t dangerous,” Sorensen said. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
The technician looked unhappy. “Then I don’t see why we couldn’t’ve tested the thing back in the shop. Would’ve been a lot easier there. To say nothing of more comfortable.”
Thorn lit a cigarette in silence.
Sorensen nodded and said, “Yes, Mr. Siegel, it would’ve been.”
Siegel sat down on one of the camp stools and lit a cigarette. “Mr. Sorensen,” he asked in all innocence, “have you got a patent on that battery?”
The humorous glint returned to Sorensen’s eyes as he said, “Nope. I didn’t patent the battery in that suitcase. That’s why I don’t want anybody fooling around with it.”
“How come you don’t patent it?” Siegel asked. “Nobody could steal it if you patented it.”
“Couldn’t they?” Sorensen asked with a touch of acid in his voice. “Do you know anything about batteries, Mr. Siegel?”
“A little. I’m not an expert on ’em, or anything like that. I’m an electrician. But I know a little bit about ’em.”