the notation.
As the police chief well knew, plenty of auto executivc-s drove company
cars. But only a senior executive would have two company cars-one for
himself, another for his wife.
Thus it required no great deductive powers to conclude that the suspect,
Erica Marguerite Trenton, now locked in a small interrogation room in-
stead of in a cell-another intuitive move by the desk sergeant-was
married to a reasonably important man.
What the chief needed to know was: How important? And how much influence
did Mrs. Trenton's husband have?
The fact that the chief would take time to consider such questions at
all was a reason why suburban Detroit communities insisted on main-
taining their own local police forces. Periodically, proposals appeared
for a merger of the score or more of separate police forces of Greater
Detroit into a single metropolitan force. Such an arrangement, it was
argued, would ensure better policing by eliminating duplication, and
would also be less costly. The metropolitan system, its advocates
pointed out, worked successfully elsewhere.
But the suburbs- Birmingham, Bloomfield Hills, Troy, Dearborn, the
Grosse Pointes and others-were always solidly opposed. As a result, and
because residents of those communities had influence where it counted,
the proposal always failed.
The existing system of small, independent forces might not be the best
means of providing equal justice for all, but it did give local citizens
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whose names were known a better break when they, their families or friends
transgressed the law.
Presto!-tbe chief remembered where he had heard the name Trenton before.
Six or seven months ago, Chief Arenson bad bought a car for his wife
from the auto dealer, Srn.okey Stephensen. During the chief's visit to
the dealer's showrooma Saturday, he recalled-Smokey had introduced him
to an Adam Trenton from the auto company's head office. Afterward and
privately, while Smokey and the chief made their deal about the car,
Smokey mentioned Trenton again, predicting that he was going higher in
the company, and one day would be its president.
Reflecting on the incident, and its implications at this moment, Chief
Arenson was glad he had dawdled. Now, not only was he aware that the
woman being detained was someone of consequence, but he had the further
knowledge of where to get extra information which might be helpful in
the case.
Using an outside line on his desk, the chief telephoned Smokey
Stephensen.
chapter twenty-four
Sir Perceval McDowall Stuyvesant, Bart. and Adam Trenton had known each
other and been friends for more than twenty years. It was a loose
friendship. Sometimes two years or more slipped by without their meeting,
or even communicating, but whenever they were in the same town, which
happened occasionally, they got together and picked up the old
relationship easily, as if it had never been set down.
A reason, perhaps, for the lasting friendship was their dissimilarity.
Adam, while imaginative, was primarily a master of organization, a
pragmatist who got things done. Sir Perceval, imaginative too and with
a growing reputation as a brilliant scientist, was essentially a dreamer
who had trouble mastering each day's practicalities-the kind of man who
might invent a zipper but subsequently forget to zip up his own fly.
Their backgrounds were equally at variance. Sir Perceval was the last
of a line of English squires, his father dead and the inherited title
genuine. Adam's father had been a Buffalo, New York, steelworker.
The two met in college-at Purdue University. They were the same age and
graduated together, Adam in Engineering; Perceval, whom his friends
called Perce, in Physics. Afterward, Perce spent several more years
gathering scientific degrees as casually as a child gathers daisies,
then worked for a while for the same auto company as Adam. This had been
in Scientific Research-the "think tank"-where Perce left his mark by
discovering new applications for electron microscopes.
During that period they spent more time to- wheels-389
getber tban at any other-it bad been before Adam's marriage to Erica, and
Perce was a bachelor-and they found each other's company increasingly
agreeable.
For a while, Adam became mildly interested in Perce's hobby of
manufacturing pseudo-antique violins-into each of which, with peculiar
humor, he pasted a Stradivari label-but rejected Perce's suggestion that
they learn Russian together. Perce set out on that project alone, solely
because someone had given him a subscription to a Soviet magazine, and in
less than a year could read Russian with ease.
Sir Perceval Stuyvesant had a lean, spindleshanked appearance and, to
Adam, always looked the same: mournful, which he wasn't, and perpetually
abstracted, which he was. He also had an easygoing nature which nothing
disturbed, and when concentrating on something scientific was oblivious
to everything around him, including seven young and noisy children. This
brood had appeared at the rate of one a year since Perce's marriage which
took place soon after he left the auto industry. He had wed a pleasant,
sexy scatterbrain, now Lady Stuyvesant, and for the past few years the
expanding family had lived near San Francisco in a happy madhouse of a
home.
It was from San Francisco that Perce had flown to Detroit specifically to
see Adam. They met in Adam's office in late afternoon of a day in August.
When Perce had telephoned the previous day to say that he was coming, Adam
urged him not to go to a hotel, but to come home to stay at Quarton Lake.
Erica liked Perce. Adam hoped that an old friend's arrival would ease some
of the tension and uncertainty still persisting between himself and Erica.
390-wheels
But Perce had declined. "Best if I don't, old boy. If I meet Erica this
trip, she'll be curious to know why I'm there, and you'll likely want
to tell her yourself in your own way."
Adam had asked, "Why are you coming?"
"Maybe I want a job."
But Sir Perccval hadn't wanted a job. As it turned out, he had come to
offer one to Adam.
A West Coast company, involved with advanced electrical and radar
technology, required an executive head. Perce, one of the company's
founders, was currently its scientific vice-president, and his approach
to Adam was on behalf of himself and associates.
He announced, "President is what we'd make you, old boy. You'd start at
the top."
Adam said dryly, "That's what Henry Ford told Bunkie Knudsen."
"This could work out better. One reasonyou'd 1-e in a strong stock
position." Perce gave the slightest of frowns as he regarded Adam. "I'll
ask you a f aver while I'm here. That's take me seriously."
"I always have." That was one of the things about their relationship,
Adam thought-based on respect for each other's abilities, and with good
reason. Adam had his own solid achievements in the auto industry and
Perce, despite vagueness at times and his absent-mindedness about
everyday matters, turned everything he touched in scientific fields into
notable success. Even before today's encounter, Adam had heard reports
about Perce's West Coast company which had gained a solid reputation for
advanced research and development, electronically oriented, in a short
time.
"We're a small company," Perce said, "but growing fast, and that's our
problem."
He went on, explaining that a group of scientific people like himself
had banded together in
wheels-391
formation of the company, their objective to convert new, advanced
knowledge with which the sciences abounded, into practical inventions and
technology. A special concern was freshly emerging energy.3ources and
power transmission. Not only would developments envisaged bring aid to
beleaguered cities and industry, they would also augment the world's food
supply by massive, powered irrigation. Already the group had scored
successes in several fields so that the company was, as Perce expressed
it, "earning bread and butter and some jam," Much more was expected.
"A good deal of our work is focusing on superconductors," Perce
reported. He asked Adam, "Know much about that?"
"A little, not much."
"If there's a major breakthrough- and some of us believe it can
happen-it'll be the most revolutionary power and metallurgical
development in a generation. I'll tell you more of that later. it could
be our biggest thing."
At the moment, Perce declared, what the company needed was a top-flight
businessman to run it. "We're scientists, old boy. If I may say so,
we've as many science geniuses as you'll find under one umbrella in this
country. But we're having to do things we don't want to and are not
equipped for-organization, management, budgets, financing, the rest.
What we want is to stay in our labs, experiment, and think."
But the group didn't want just any businessman, Perce declared. "We can
get accountants by the gross and management consultants in a dump truck.
What we need is one outstanding individual -someone with imagination who
understands and respects research, can utilize technology, channel
invention, establish priorities, run the front office while we take care
of the back, and still be a decent human being. In short, old boy, we
need you."
392-wheels
It was impossible not to be pleased. Being offered a job by an outside
company was no new experience for Adam, any more than it was to most
auto executives. But the offer from Perce, because of who and what he
was, was something different.
Adam asked, "How do your other people feel?"
"They've learned to trust my judgment. I may tell you that in
considering candidates we made a short list. Very short. Yours was the
only name on it."
Adam said, and meant it, "I'm touched."
Sir Perceval Stuyvesant permitted himself one of his rare, slow smiles.
"You might even be touched in other ways. When you wish, we can talk
salary, bonus, stock position, options."
Adam shook his head. "Not yet, if at all. The thing is, I've never
seriously considered leaving the auto business. Cars have been my life.
They still are."
Even now, to Adam, this entire exchange was mere dialectics. Greatly as
he respected Perce and strong as their friendship was, for Adam to quit
the auto industry voluntarily was inconceivable.
The two were in facing chairs. Perce shifted in his. He had a way of
winding and unwinding while seated which made his long, lean figure seem
sinuous. Each movement, too, signaled a switch in conversation.
"Ever wonder," Perce said, "what they'll put on your tombstone?"
"I'm not at all sure I'll have one."
Perce waved a hand. "I speak metaphorically, old boy. We'll all get a
tombstone, whether in stone or air. It'll have on it what we did with
the time we had, what we've left behind us. Ever thought of yours?"
"I suppose so," Adam said. "I guess we all do a little."
wheels-393
Perce put his fingertips together and regarded them. "Several things
they could say about you, I suppose. For example: 'He was an auto
company vice-president' or even maybe 'president' -that's if your luck
holds and you beat out all the other strong contenders. You'd be in good
company, of course, even though a lot of company. So many auto
presidents and vice-presidents, old boy. Bit like the population of
India."
"If you're making a point," Adam said, "why not get to it?"
"A splendid suggestion, old boy."
Sometimes, Adam thought, Perce overdid the studied Anglicisms. They had
to be studied because, British baronet or not, Perce had lived in the
U.S. for a quarter century and, with the exception of speech, all his
tastes and habits were American. But perhaps it showed that everyone had
human weaknesses.
Now Perce leaned forward, eying Adam earnestly. "You know what that
tombstone of yours might say: 'He did something new, different,
worthwhile. He was a leader when they carved new pathways, broke fresh
ground. That which he left behind him was important and enduring."'
Perce fell back in his chair as if the amount of talk-unusual in his
case-and emotional effort had exhausted him.
Amid the silence which followed, Adam felt more moved than at any other
point since the conversation began. In his mind he acknowledged the
truth of what Perce had said, and wondered, too, how long the Orion
would be remembered after its time and usefulness were ended. Farstar
also. Both seemed important now, dominating the lives of many, including
his own. But how important would they seem in time to come?
The office suite was quiet. It was late af ternoon, and here as
elsewhere within the staff build-
394-wheels
ing, pressures of the day were easing, secretaries and others beginning to
go home. From where Adam sat, glancing outside he could see the freeway
traffic, its volume growing as the exodus from plants and offices began.
He had chosen this time of day because Perce had asked particularly that
they have at least an hour in which they would be undisturbed.
"Tell me some more," Adam said, "about super-conductors-the breakthrough
you were speaking of."
Perce said quietly, "They represent the means to enormous new energy, a
chance to clean up our environment, and to create more abundance than this
earth has ever known."
Across the office, on Adam's desk, a telephone buzzed peremptorily.
Adam glanced toward it with annoyance. Before Perce's arrival he had given
Ursula, his secretary, instructions not to disturb them. Perce seemed
unhappy about the interruption, too.
But Ursula, Adam knew, would not disregard instructions without good
reason. Excusing himself, he crossed the room, sat at his desk and lif ted
the phone.
I wouldn't have called you," his secretary's low-pitched voice announced,
"except Mr. Stephensen said he has to speak to you, it's extremely urgenC
"Smokey Stephensen?"
'-fes, sir."
Adam said irritably, "Get a number where he'll be later this evening. If
1 can, 111 call him. But I can't talk now."
He sensed Ursula's uncertainty. "Mr. Trenton, that's exactly what I said.
But he's most insistent. He says when you know what it's about, you won't
mind him interrupting."
wheels-395
"Damn!" Adam glanced apologetically at Perce, then asked Ursula, "He's
on the line now?"
"Yes."
"Very well, put him on."
Cupping a hand over the telephone, Adam promised, "This will take one
minute, no more." The trouble with people like Smokey Stephensen, he
thought, was that they always considered their own affairs to have
overriding importance.
A click. The auto dealer's voice. "Adam, that you?"
"Yes, it is." Adam made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. "I
understand my secretary has already told you I'm busy. Whatever it is
will have to wait."
"Shall I tell that to your wife?"
He answered peevishly, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Mr. Big Executive too busy to take a phone call from a
friend, your wife has been arrested. And not on a traffic charge, in
case you're wondering. For stealing."
Adam stopped, in shocked silence, as Smokey went on. "If you want to
help her, and help yourself, right now get free from whatever you're in-
volved in and come to where I'm waiting. Listen carefully. I'll tell you
where to go."
Dazedly, Adam wrote down the directions Smokey gave him.
"We need a lawyer," Adam said. "I know several. I'm going to phone one,
get him over here."
He was with Smokey Stephensen, in Smokey's car, on the parking lot of
the suburban police station. Adam had not yet been inside, Smokey had
persuaded him to remain in the car while he recited the facts concerning
Erica, which he had learned on the telephone from Chief Arenson, and
396-wheels
during a visit to the chief's office before Adam's arrival. As Adam listened
he had grown increasingly tense, his frown of worry deepening.
"Sure, sure," Smokey said. "Go phone a lawyer. While you're about it, why
not call the News, Free Press and Birmingham Eccentric? They might even
send photographers."
"What does it matter? Obviously, the police have made a stupid mistake."
"They ain't made a mistake."
"My wife would never..."
Smokey cut in exasperatedly, "Your wife did. Will you get that through
your head? And not only did, she's signed a confession."
I can't believe it."
"You'd better. Chief Arenson told me; he wouldn't lie. Besides, the police
aren't fools."
"No," Adam said, I know they're not." He took in a deep breath and
expelled it slowly, forcing himself to think carefully-for the first time
since hastily breaking off the meeting with Perceval Stuyvesant half an
hour ago. Perce had been understanding, realizing that something serious
had occurred, even though Adam hadn't gone into detail about the sudden
phone call. They had arranged that Adam would call Perce at his hotel,
either later tonight or tomorrow morning.
Now, beside Adam, Srnokey Stephensen waited, puffing on a cigar, so the
car reeked of smoke despite its air conditioning. Outside, the rain
continued drearily, as it had since afternoon. Dusk was settling in. On
vehicles and in buildings lights were coming on.
"All right," Adam said, "if Erica did what they say, there has to be
something else behind it."
Out of habit, the auto dealer rubbed a hand over his beard. His greeting
to Adam on arrival had been neither friendly nor hostile, and his voice
was noncommittal now. "Whatever that is, I guess
wheels-397
it's between you and your wife. The same goes for what's right or wrong;
neither one's any business of mine. What we're talking about is the way
things are."
A police cruiser pulled in close to where they were parked. Two
uniformed officers got out, escorting a third man between them. The
policemen took a hard look at Smokey Stephensen's car and its two
occupants; the third man, whom Adam now saw was handcuffed, kept his
eyes averted. While Smokey and Adam watched, the trio went inside.
It was an uncomfortable reminder of the kind of business transacted
here.
"The way things are," Adam said, 'Trica's inside there-or so you tell
me-and needs help. I can either barge in myself, start throwing weight
around and maybe make mistakes, or I can do the sensible thing and get
a lawyer."
"Sensible or not," Smokey growled, "youll likely start something you
can't stop, and af terwards wish you'd done it some other way."
"Wh at other way?"
"Like letting me go in there to begin. To represent you. Like my talking
to the chief again. Like seeing what I can work out."
Wondering why he had not asked before, Adam queried, "Why did the police
call you?"
"The chief knows me," Smokey said. "We're friends. He knows I know you."
He forbore to tell Adam what he had already learned-that chances were
good the store where the shoplifting had occurred would settle for
payment of what had been taken and would not press charges; also, that
Chief Arenson was aware the case might be sensitive locally, and
therefore a favorable disposition might be arranged, depending on the
co-operation and discretion of all concerned.
"I'm out of my depth," Adam said. "If you
398-wheels
think you can do something, go ahead. Do you want me to come with you?"
Smokey sat still. His bands were on the car's steering wheel, his face
expressionless.
"Well," Adam said, "can you do something or not?"
"Yes," Smokey acknowledged, "I guess I could."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"The price," Smokey said softly. "There's a price for everything, Adam.
You, of all people, should know that."
"If we're discussing bribery
"Don't even mention bribery! Here or in there." Smokey gestured toward
police headquarters. "And remember this: Wilbur Arenson's a reasonable
guy. But if you offered him anything, he'd throw the book at your wife.
You, too."
"I didn't intend to." Adam looked puzzled. "If it isn't that, then what
..."
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Smokey shouted the words; his hands, gripping the
steering wheel, were white. "You're putting me out of business, remember?
Or is it so unimportant you've forgotten? One month, you said. One month
before your sister puts her stock in my business on the block. A month
before you turn that sneak's notebook of yours over to your company sales
brass."
Adam said stiffly, "We have an agreement. It has nothing to do with this."
"You're damn right it has to do with thisl If you want your wife out of
this mess without her name, and yours, smeared all over Michigan, you'd
best do some fast rethinking."
"It might be better if you explained what kind."
"I'm offering a deal," Smokey said. "It it needs explaining, you're not
half as smart as I think."
Adam allowed the contempt he felt to ex- wheels-399
press itself in his voice. "I suppose I get the picture. Let me see if I
have it right. You are prepared to be an intermediary, using your friendship
with the chief of police to try to free my wife and have any charges
dropped. In return, I'm supposed Lo tell my sister not to dispcse of her
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