'No. Angelo Gilbert.'
'What do you suggest, then?' I asked. 'Full-scale war?'
'You have to be sure you'll win. Historically, full scale war's a toss up.'
'The old cow might leave,' Cassie said, smiling.
Bananas nodded. 'Tyrants always want more next time. I dare say next year she'll turn to motor racing.'
'I suppose you don't know anyone who has a computer you can feed any language into?' I said.
'Turkish? Indo-Chinese? That sort of stuff?'
'Yeah. Gibberish, double-speak, jargonese and gobble-de-gook.'
'Try the sociologists.'
I tried, however, Ted Pitts, early the following morning, and reached Jane instead.
'Ted isn't here,' she said, 'I'm afraid he's still in Switzerland. Can I help?'
I explained I wanted to borrow a good computer to run a check on the racing programs and she said sadly that she couldn't really lend me Ted's, not without him being there; she knew he was working on a special program for his classes and if anyone touched the computer at present his work could be lost, and she couldn't risk that.
'No,' I agreed. Did she know of anyone else whose computer I could use?
She thought it over. There's Ruth,' she said doubtfully. 'Ruth Quigley.'
'Who?'
'She was a pupil of Ted's. Actually he says there's nothing he can teach her now, and when she comes here I can't understand a word they say to each other, it's like listening to creatures from outer space.'
'Would she have a computer of her own?'
'She's got everything,' Jane said without envy. 'Born rich. Only child. Only has to ask, and it's hers. And on top of that, she's brainy. Doesn't seem fair, does it?'
'Beautiful as well?'
'Oh.' She hesitated. 'Not bad. I don't really know. It's not the sort of thing you notice about Ruth.'
'Well, um, where could I find her?'
'In Cambridge. That's why I thought of her, because she lives over your way. She writes programs for teaching-machines. Would you like me to ring her? When do you want to go?'
I said 'Today', and half an hour later I'd had my answer and was on my way, seeking out a flat in a modern block on the outskirts of the town.
Ruth Quigley proved to be young: very early twenties, I guessed. I could see also what Jane meant about not noticing her looks, because the first, overpowering and lasting impression she gave was of the speed of her mind. There were light eyes, light brown extra-curly hair and long slender neck, but mostly there was an impatient jerk of the head and a stumblingly rapid diction as if to her utter disgust her tongue couldn't speak her thoughts fast enough.
'Yes. Come in. Did you bring your tapes?' She wasted no precious words on any other greeting. 'This way. Old Grantley Basic, Jane said. You've got the language with you. Do you want to load it, or shall I?'
'I'd be glad if-'
'Hand them over, then. Which side?'
'Er, first program on Side 1.'
'Right. Come along.'
She moved with the same inborn rapidity, disappearing down a short passage and through a doorway before I'd even managed a step. She must always find, I thought, that the rest of the world went along intolerably in slow motion.
The room into which I finally followed her must originally'have been designed as a bedroom, which it now in no way resembled. There was a quiet, felt-like pale green floor covering, track-lighting with spotlights, a roller blind at the window, matt white walls-and long benches of machines more or less like Ted Pitts's, only double.
'Workroom,' Ruth Quigley said.
'Eh, yes.'
It was cooler in there than out on the street. I identified a faint background hum as air-conditioning, and remarked on it.
She nodded, not lifting her eyes from the already almost completed job of loading Grantley Basic into a machine that would accept it. 'Dust is like gravel to computers. Heat, damp, all makes them temperamental. They're thoroughbreds, of course.'
Racing programs… thoroughbred computers. Excellence won. Pains taken gave one the edge. I was beginning to think like her, I thought.
'I'm wasting your time,' I said apologetically.
'Glad to help. Always do anything for Jane and Ted. They know that. Did you bring the form books? You'll need them. Simple programs, but facts must be right. Most teaching-machines, just the same. They bore me quite often. Multiple-choice questions. Then the child takes half an hour to get it right and I put it in a bright remark like, 'Well done, aren't you clever.' Nothing of the sort. Encouragement, they say, is all. What do you think?'
'Are they gifted children?'
She gave me a flashing glance. 'All children are gifted. Some more so. They need the best teaching. They often don't get it. Teachers are jealous, did you know?'
'My brother always said it was intensely exciting to have a very bright boy in the class.'
'Like Ted, generous. There you are, fire away. I'll be in and out, don't let me disturb you. I'm working on a sort-listing of string arrays. They said it was taking them eighteen minutes, I ask you. I've got it down to five seconds, but only one dimension, I need two dimensions if I'm not to scramble the data. I'm poking a machine- language program into the memory from BASIC, then converting the machine code into assembly-language economics. Am I boring you?'
'No,' I said. 'I just don't understand a word of it.'
'Sorry. Forgot you weren't like Ted. Well, carry on.'
I had brought in a large briefcase the tapes, the racing form books, all sorts of record books and all the recent copies of a good racing paper, and with a feeling that by Ruth Quigley's standards it was going to take me a very long time I set about working out which horses were likely to have won according to Liam O'Rorke, and checking them against those which had actually reached the post first. I still needed a list of the horses which Angelo had backed, but I thought I might get that from Taff and from Lancer on the following day: and then I might be able to figure out where Angelo had messed everything up.
FILE NAME?
CLOAD DONCA, I typed. Pressed the 'Enter' key, and watched the asterisks; waited for READY. Pressed 'Enter' again and got my reward.
WHICH RACE AT DONCASTER?
ST LEGER, I typed.
DONCASTER: ST LEGER. TYPE NAME OF HORSE AND PRESS 'ENTER'.
GENOTTI, I typed. Pressed 'Enter'.
DONCASTER: ST LEGER.
GENOTTI.
ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS YES OR NO OR WITH A NUMBER AND PRESS 'ENTER'.
HAS HORSE WON AS A TWO YEAR OLD?
YES, I typed. The screen flashed a new question leaving the headings intact.
HAS HORSE WON AS A THREE YEAR OLD?
YES, I typed.
HOW MANY DAYS SINCE HORSE LAST RAN?
I consulted the daily newspaper which always gave that precise information, and typed in the number which had appeared there on St Leger day: 23.
HAS HORSE WON OVER DISTANCE: ONE MILE SIX FURLONGS?
NO, I typed.
HAS HORSE RUN OVER DISTANCE: ONE MILE SIX FURLONGS?
