If Tomorrow Comes by Sidney Sheldon

“We don’t have a patent on this, and—”

“Write, goddamn it!” Budge shoved the pen in Jeff’s hand.

Reluctantly, Jeff began to write: “This will transfer all my rights, title, and interest to a mathematical computer called SUCABA, to the buyers, Donald ‘Budge’ Hollander, Ed Zeller, Alan Thompson, and Mike Quincy, for the consideration of two million dollars, with a payment of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars on signing. SUCABA has been extensively tested, is inexpensive, trouble-free, and uses less power than any computer currently on the market. SUCABA will require no maintenance or parts for a minimum period of ten years.” They were all looking over Jeff’s shoulder as he wrote.

“Jesus!” Ed Zeller said. “Ten years! There’s not a computer on the market that can claim that!”

Jeff continued. “The buyers understand that neither Professor Vernon Ackerman nor I holds a patent on SUCABA—”

“We’ll take care of all that,” Alan Thompson interrupted impatiently. “I’ve got one hell of a patent attorney.”

Jeff kept writing. “I have explained to the buyers that SUCABA may have no value of any kind, and that neither Professor Vernon Ackerman nor I makes any representations or warranties about SUCABA except as written above.” He signed it and held up the paper. “Is that satisfactory?”

“You sure about the ten years?” Budge asked.

“Guaranteed. I’ll just make a copy of this,” Jeff said. They watched as he carefully made a copy of what he had written.

Budge snatched the papers out of Jeff’s hand and signed them. Zeller, Quincy, and Thompson followed suit.

Budge was beaming. “A copy for us and a copy for you. Old Seymour Jarrett and Charlie Bartlett are sure going to have egg on their faces, huh, boys? I can’t wait until they hear that they got screwed out of this deal.”

The following morning Budge handed Jeff a certified check for $250,000.

“Where’s the computer?” Budge asked.

“I arranged for it to be delivered here at the club at noon. I thought it only fitting that we should all be together when you receive it.”

Budge clapped him on the shoulder. “You know, Jeff, you’re a smart fellow. See you at lunch.”

At the stroke of noon a messenger carrying a box appeared in the dining room of the Pilgrim Club and was ushered to Budge’s table, where he was seated with Zeller, Thompson, and Quincy.

“Here it is!” Budge exclaimed. “Jesus! The damned thing’s even portable!”

“Should we wait for Jeff?” Thompson asked.

“Fuck him. This belongs to us now.” Budge ripped the paper away from the box. Inside was a nest of straw. Carefully, almost reverently, he lifted out the object that lay in the nest. The men sat there, staring at it. It was a square frame about a foot in diameter, holding a series of wires across which were strung rows of beads. There was a long silence.

“What is it?” Quincy finally asked.

Alan Thompson said, “It’s an abacus. One of those things Orientals use to count—” The expression on his face changed. “Jesus! SUCABA is abacus spelled backward!” He turned to Budge. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Zeller was sputtering. “Low power, trouble-free, uses less power than any computer currently on the market…Stop the goddamned check!”

There was a concerted rush to the telephone.

“Your certified check?” the head bookkeeper said. “There’s nothing to worry about. Mr. Stevens cashed it this morning.”

Pickens, the butler, was very sorry, indeed, but Mr. Stevens had packed and left. “He mentioned something about an extended journey.”

That afternoon, a frantic Budge finally managed to reach Professor Vernon Ackerman.

“Of course. Jeff Stevens. A charming man. Your brother-in-law, you say?”

“Professor, what were you and Jeff discussing?”

“I suppose it’s no secret. Jeff is eager to write a book about me. He has convinced me that the world wants to know the human being behind the scientist…”

Seymour Jarrett was reticent. “Why do you want to know what Mr. Stevens and I discussed? Are you a rival stamp collector?”

“No, I—”

“Well, it won’t do you any good to snoop around. There’s only one stamp like it in existence, and Mr. Stevens has agreed to sell it to me when he acquires it.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *