Typically, despite Adam's blunt contradiction of what had been said, O'Hagan showed no resentment, only smiles.
'Come, meet everybody,' Hank Kreisel said. He steered Adam around the group. Among the guests were a congressman, a judge, a network TV personality, two other parts manufacturers and several senior people from Adam's own company, including a trio of purchasing agents. There was also a young man who offered his hand and smiled engagingly as Adam approached. 'Smokey told me about you, sir. I'm Pierre Flodenhale.'
'Of course.' Adam remembered the youthful race driver whom he had seen, doubling as a car salesman, at Smokey Stephensen's dealership. 'How are your sales?'
'When there's time to work at it, pretty good, sir.'
Adam told him, 'Cut the 'sir' stuff. Only first names here. You had bad luck in the Daytona 500.'
'Sure did.' Pierre Flodenhale pushed back his shock of blond hair and grimaced. Two months earlier he had completed a hundred and eighty grueling laps at Daytona, was leading with only twenty laps to go, when a blown engine head put him out of the race. 'Felt like stomping on that old car after,' he confided.
'If it had been me, I'd have pushed it off a cliff .'
'Guess maybe I'll do better soon.' The race driver gave a boyish smile; he had the same pleasant manner as when Adam had observed him previously. 'Got a feeling this year I might pull off the Talladega 500.'
'I'll be at Talladega,' Adam said. 'We're exhibiting a concept Orion there. So I'll cheer for you.'
From somewhere behind, Hank Kreisel's voice cut in. 'Adam, this is Stella. She'll do anything for you.'
'Like getting a drink,' a girl's pleasing voice said. Adam found a pretty, petite redhead beside him. She was wearing the scantiest of bikinis. 'Hullo, Mr. Trenton.'
'Hullo.' Adam saw two other girls nearby and remembered Erica's question: Does 'stag' mean no women or merely no wives?
'I'm glad you like my swimsuit,' Stella told Pierre, whose eyes had been exploring.
The race driver said, 'Hadn't noticed you were wearing one.'
The girl returned to Adam. 'About that drink.'
He ordered a Bloody Mary. 'Don't go 'way,' she told him. 'Be back soon.'
Pierre asked, 'What's a 'concept' Orion, Adam?'
'It's a special kind of car made up for showing in advance of the real thing. In the trade we call it a 'one off.''
'But the one at Talladega - it won't be a genuine Orion?'
'No,' Adam said. 'The real Orion isn't due until a month later. The
'concept' will resemble the Orion though we're not saying how closely.
We'll show it around a lot. The idea is to get people talking, speculating on how will the final Orion look?' He added, 'You could say it's a sort of teaser.'
'I can play that,' Stella said. She had returned with Adam's drink and one for Pierre.
The congressman moved over to join them. He had flowing white hair, a genial manner and a strong, though pontifical voice. 'I was interested in what you said about your industry listening, Mr. Trenton. I trust some of the listening is to what legislators are saying.'
Adam hesitated. His inclination was to answer bluntly, as usual, but this was a party; he was a guest. He caught the eye of Hank Kreisel who seemed to have a knack of being everywhere and overhearing anything that mattered. 'Feel free,' Kreisel said. 'A few fights won't hurt. We got a doctor coming.'
Adam told the congressman, 'What's coming out of legislatures right now is mostly foolishness from people who want their names in the news and know that blasting the auto industry, whether it makes sense or not, will do the trick.'
The congressman rushed as Adam persisted, 'A U.S. senator wants to ban automobiles in five years' time if they have internal combustion engines, though he hasn't any notion what will replace them. Well, if it happened, the only good thing is, he couldn't get around to make silly speeches. Some states have brought lawsuits in efforts to make us recall all cars built since 1953 and rebuild them to emission standards that didn't exist until 1966 in California, 1968 elsewhere.'
'Those are extremes,' the congressman protested. His speech slurred slightly, and the drink in his hand was clearly not his first of the day.
'I agree they're extremes. But they're representative of what we're hearing from legislators, and that - if I remember - was your question.'
Hank Kreisel, reappearing, said cheerfully, 'Was the question, all right.' He slapped the congressman across the shoulders. 'Watch out, Woody! These young fellas in Detroit got sharp minds. Brighter'n you're used to in Washington.'
'You'd never think,' the congressman informed the group, 'that when this character Kreisel and I were Marines together, he used to salute me'
'If that's what you're missing, General'
Hank Kreisel, still in his smart Bermuda shorts, snapped to rigid attention and executed a parade ground- style salute. Afterward he commanded, 'Stella, get the senator another drink.'
'I wasn't a general,' the congressman complained. 'I was a chicken colonel, and I'm not a senator.'
'You were never a chicken, Woody,' Kreisel assured him. 'And you'll make it to senator. Probably over this industry's corpse.'
'Judging by you, and this place, it's a damn healthy corpse.' The congressman returned his gaze to Adam. 'Want to beat any more bell out of politicians?'
'Maybe a little.' Adam smiled. 'Some of us think it's time our lawmakers did a few positive things instead of just parroting the critics.'
'Positive like what?'
'Like enacting some public enforcement laws. Take one example: air pollution. Okay, antipollution standards for new-built cars are here.
Most of us in the industry agree they're good, are necessary, and were overdue.' Adam was aware of the size of the group around them increasing, other conversations breaking off. He went on, 'But what people like you ask of people like us is to produce an anti-pollutant device which won't go wrong, or need checking or adjustment, for the entire life of every car. Well, it can't be done. It's no more logical to expect it than to ask any piece of machinery to work perfectly forever. So what's needed? A law with teeth, a law requiring regular inspection of car pollutant devices, then repair or replacement when necessary. But it would be an unpopular law because the public doesn't really give two hoots about pollution and only cares about convenience.
That's why politicians are afraid of it.'
'The public does care,' the congressman said heatedly. 'I've mail to prove it.'
'Some individuals care. The public doesn't. For more than two years,' Adam insisted, 'we've had pollution control kits available for older cars. The kits cost twenty dollars installed, and we know they work.
They reduce pollution and make air purer - anywhere. The kits have been promoted, advertised on TV, radio, billboards, but almost nobody buys them. Extras on cars - even old cars - like whitewall tires or stereo tape decks are selling fine. But nobody wants antipollution kits; they're the least selling item we ever made. And the legislators you asked me about, who lecture us about clean air at the drop of a vote, haven't shown the slightest interest either.'
Stella's voice and several others chorused, 'Spare ribs! Spare ribs!'
The group around Adam and the congressman thinned. 'About time,' somebody said. 'We haven't eaten for an hour.'
The sight of piled food, now on a buffet at the rear of the sun deck presided over by a whitecapped chef, reminded Adam that he had not had breakfast, due to his fight with Erica, and was hungry. He also remembered he must call home soon.
One of the purchasing agent guests, holding a plate heaped high with food, called out, 'Great eating, Hank!'
'Glad you like it,' his host acknowledged. 'And with you guys here it's all deductible.'
Adam smiled with the others, knowing that what Kreisel had said was true - that the purchasing agents' presence made this a business occasion, to be deducted eventually on Hank Kreisel's income tax return.
