you see that?" Burlow snapped.
"The engineering details and specifications could save us a lot of time in sizing up the project."
Burlow snorted. "Encouraging the young is one thing. If you think I’m about to help a competitor, you’re way too young for this business!"
"The Ngombian government paid for your survey," Tom pointed out. "Surely they should be able to make use of the results."
"Then ask them. They have copies."
"They do," Tom acknowledged, "but I’m hoping to avoid a delay in making a decision." He mentioned the problem in the Ngombian government office.
Burlow stared in amazement, then burst into a loud bray of laughter. "Too bad, Swift. In that case, I guess you boys are just out of luck!"
Tom stifled the angry retort that rose to his lips. All that escaped was: "Our company doesn’t treat honest competitors as enemies, Mr. Burlow. Then I take it you won’t cooperate?"
"That’s right. If you great hey-we-went-to-the-moon geniuses at Swift Enterprises want to take on the job and show us up, go for it. Bid it out." Burlow’s little eyes crinkled in a foxy smile as he added, "I’ll tell you one thing, though, boy—you have a real unpleasant surprise coming if you think you can lay a highway straight across that jungle swamp. It’s a busy place, you might say." The man chuckled in a snide way. "You’ll soon find out why we jacked our price up so high!"
Tom realized that it would be useless to press Burlow further. He was more than happy to leave and fly home.
Arriving at Enterprises, a harried George Dilling reported that news services and "media people" had been phoning his office, asking for more details on the publicized Africa project. He had already issued a statement by Tom’s father denying the original story, but confirming that a development project was being "studied".
Tom then he hurried to the security office to discuss the matter with Harlan Ames.
"I’ve just finished checking out that phony article," Ames reported. "Its undisclosed source was one of those trashy ‘fearless investigator’ gossip sites on the internet, something called the Burge Blast. The teenage owner declined my gentle invitation to reveal where those quotes came from originally."
"You can spread anything far and wide these days, Harlan."
"Especially manure."
Next day found Tom in one of his personal labs, deep in thought over the mystery and the ominous warnings by Creel and Burlow. Giving up on the conundrum, Tom hopped into one of the plant’s midget electric nanocars and sped across the grounds to the observatory building, where he knew his father was working with Enterprises’ electronic video-telescope, the megascope space prober.
Father and son engaged in a lengthy and detailed conversation in the dimmed light of the observatory dome, the huge megascope antenna presiding. By the end of the sober conference the Swifts had decided to plunge ahead on the African project as quickly as possible. "I’ll call Ambassador Onammi and give our provisional acceptance," declared Mr. Swift. "We can talk more about our strategy tonight at home. A good meal can do wonders for the imagination."
Onammi was delighted. However, he reported with some embarrassment that the file on the Burlow survey had not yet been uncovered. "We are becoming concerned that Ulsusu sympathizers are working within our government, undetected," he admitted.
For this reason, Tom decided that an on-the-spot survey of the jungle terrain would be needed before the project agreements could be finalized. By the end of the day he had made tentative plans and put together a small team to join him on the trip to Ngombia. "I’m still pretty dry of ideas on how to solve the transport problem," Tom told Hank Sterling after inviting him along. "Maybe looking over the ‘enemy’—The V’moda—will suggest something."
That evening the Swift family was joined at dinner by Jake Aturian, Mr. Swift’s longtime friend, who managed the Swift
"The engineering details and specifications could save us a lot of time in sizing up the project."
Burlow snorted. "Encouraging the young is one thing. If you think I’m about to help a competitor, you’re way too young for this business!"
"The Ngombian government paid for your survey," Tom pointed out. "Surely they should be able to make use of the results."
"Then ask them. They have copies."
"They do," Tom acknowledged, "but I’m hoping to avoid a delay in making a decision." He mentioned the problem in the Ngombian government office.
Burlow stared in amazement, then burst into a loud bray of laughter. "Too bad, Swift. In that case, I guess you boys are just out of luck!"
Tom stifled the angry retort that rose to his lips. All that escaped was: "Our company doesn’t treat honest competitors as enemies, Mr. Burlow. Then I take it you won’t cooperate?"
"That’s right. If you great hey-we-went-to-the-moon geniuses at Swift Enterprises want to take on the job and show us up, go for it. Bid it out." Burlow’s little eyes crinkled in a foxy smile as he added, "I’ll tell you one thing, though, boy—you have a real unpleasant surprise coming if you think you can lay a highway straight across that jungle swamp. It’s a busy place, you might say." The man chuckled in a snide way. "You’ll soon find out why we jacked our price up so high!"
Tom realized that it would be useless to press Burlow further. He was more than happy to leave and fly home.
Arriving at Enterprises, a harried George Dilling reported that news services and "media people" had been phoning his office, asking for more details on the publicized Africa project. He had already issued a statement by Tom’s father denying the original story, but confirming that a development project was being "studied".
Tom then he hurried to the security office to discuss the matter with Harlan Ames.
"I’ve just finished checking out that phony article," Ames reported. "Its undisclosed source was one of those trashy ‘fearless investigator’ gossip sites on the internet, something called the Burge Blast. The teenage owner declined my gentle invitation to reveal where those quotes came from originally."
"You can spread anything far and wide these days, Harlan."
"Especially manure."
Next day found Tom in one of his personal labs, deep in thought over the mystery and the ominous warnings by Creel and Burlow. Giving up on the conundrum, Tom hopped into one of the plant’s midget electric nanocars and sped across the grounds to the observatory building, where he knew his father was working with Enterprises’ electronic video-telescope, the megascope space prober.
Father and son engaged in a lengthy and detailed conversation in the dimmed light of the observatory dome, the huge megascope antenna presiding. By the end of the sober conference the Swifts had decided to plunge ahead on the African project as quickly as possible. "I’ll call Ambassador Onammi and give our provisional acceptance," declared Mr. Swift. "We can talk more about our strategy tonight at home. A good meal can do wonders for the imagination."
Onammi was delighted. However, he reported with some embarrassment that the file on the Burlow survey had not yet been uncovered. "We are becoming concerned that Ulsusu sympathizers are working within our government, undetected," he admitted.
For this reason, Tom decided that an on-the-spot survey of the jungle terrain would be needed before the project agreements could be finalized. By the end of the day he had made tentative plans and put together a small team to join him on the trip to Ngombia. "I’m still pretty dry of ideas on how to solve the transport problem," Tom told Hank Sterling after inviting him along. "Maybe looking over the ‘enemy’—The V’moda—will suggest something."
That evening the Swift family was joined at dinner by Jake Aturian, Mr. Swift’s longtime friend, who managed the Swift
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