The real pressure for the negative decision, Adam learned later, came from the executive vice-president, Hub Hewitson, who swayed the triumvirate - the chairman, president, and Hewitson himself - which comprised the executive policy committee.
Reportedly, Hub Hewitson argued on the lines: The company's principal business was building cars and trucks. If the thresher didn't look like a money-making item to farm products division, it should not be foisted on any segment of the corporation merely on public-spirited grounds. As to extramural activities generally, there were already enormous problems in coping with public and legislative pressures for increased safety, less air pollution, employment of the disadvantaged, and kindred matters.
The argument concluded: We are not a philanthropic body but a private enterprise whose objective is to make profits for shareholders.
After brief discussion, the president supported Hub Hewitson's view, so that the chairman was outnumbered, and conceded.
'It's been left to us to inform your friend, Kreisel,' the Silver Fox told Adam, 'so you'd better do it.'
On the telephone Hank Kreisel was philosophic when Adam gave him the news. 'Figured the odds weren't the greatest. Thanks, anyway.'
Adam asked, 'Where do you go from here?'
'Can raise dough in more than one oven,' the parts manufacturer said cheerfully. But Adam doubted if he would - at least, for the thresher, in Detroit.
He told Erica about the decision over dinner that evening. She said,
'I'm disappointed because it was a dream with Hank - a good one - and I like him. But at least you tried.'
Erica seemed in good spirits; she was making a conscious effort, Adam realized, even though, almost two weeks after her arrest for shoplifting, and release, their relationship was still unclear, their future undecided.
The day following the painful experience at the suburban police station, Erica had declared, 'If you insist on asking a lot more questions, though I hope you won't, I'll try to answer them. Before you do, though, I'll tell you I'm sorry, most of all, for getting you involved. And if you're worrying about my doing the same thing again don't. I swear there'll never be anything like it as long as I live.'
He had known she meant it, and that the subject could be closed. But it had seemed a right time to tell Erica about the job offer from Perce Stuyvesant and the fact that Adam was considering it seriously. He added, 'If I do accept, it will mean a move, of course - to San Francisco.'
Erica had been incredulous. 'You're considering leaving the auto industry?'
Adam had laughed, feeling curiously lightheaded. 'If I didn't, there'd be problems about dividing my time.'
'You'd do that for me?'
He answered quietly, 'Perhaps it would be for both of us.'
Erica had seemed dazed, shaking her head in disbelief, and that subject had been dropped too. However, Adam had telephoned Perce Stuyvesant next day to say he was still interested, but would not be able to fly West until after the Orion's debut in September, now barely a month away. Sir Perceval had agreed to wait.
Another thing that had happened was that Erica moved back into their bedroom from the guest room, at Adam's suggestion. They had even essayed some sex, but there was no escaping that it was not as successful as in the old days, and both knew it. An ingredient was missing. Neither was sure exactly what it was; the only thing they knew with certainty was that in terms of their marriage they were marking time.
Adam hoped there would be a chance for them both to talk things over - away from Detroit - during two days of stock car racing they would be attending soon in Talladega, Alabama.
Chapter 28
A page one banner headline of the Anniston Star ('Alabama's Largest Home-Owned Newspaper') proclaimed:
300 GOES AT 12:30
The news story immediately following began:
Today's Canebreak 300, as well as tomorrow's Talladega 500, promise some of the hottest competition in stock car racing history.
For the grueling 300-mile race today, and even tougher 500-miler Sunday, super fast cars and drivers have pushed qualifying speeds close to 190 mph.
What drivers, car owners, mechanics, and auto company observers now wonder is how the power-packed racers will act over the 2.66 mile trioval of Alabama International Speedway, at those speeds, when 50 cars are fighting for position on the track . . .
Lower on the same page was a sidebar story:
Severe Blood Shortage
Will Not Diminish
Big Race Precautions
Local alarm had been manifest (so the secondary news story said) because of an area Blood Bank shortage. The shortage was critical 'because of the possibility of serious injuries to race drivers and a need for transfusions over Saturday's and Sunday's racing.'
Now, to conserve supplies, all elective surgery at Citizens Hospital for which use of blood was predicted had been postponed until after the weekend. Additionally, appeals were being made to race visitors and residents to donate blood at special clinic, opening Saturday at 8 a.m. Thus, supply of blood for racing casualties would be assured.
Erica Trenton, who read both news reports while breakfasting in bed at the Downtowner Motor Inn, Anniston, shuddered at the implications of the second, and turned to the paper's inside pages. Among other race news on page three was an item:
New 'Orion' on Display
This One's a 'Concept'
The Orion's manufacturers, it was reported, were being closemouthed about how nearly the 'styling concept' model, currently on view at Talladega, resembled the soon-to-appear, real Orion. However, public interest had been high, with prerace crowds thronging the infield area where the model could be seen.
Adam would have had that news by now, Erica was sure.
They had come here together yesterday, having flown in on a company plane from Detroit, and this morning Adam left their suite at the motor inn early - almost two hours ago - to visit the Speedway pit area with Hub Hewitson. The executive vice-president, who was the senior company officer attending the two-day race meet, had a rented helicopter at his disposal, which had picked up Hewitson and Adam, and later several more.
The same helicopter would make a second series of trips shortly before race time to collect Erica and a few other company wives.
Anniston, a pleasant green-and-white country town, was six miles or so from the Talladega track.
Officially, Adam's company, like other car manufacturers, was not directly involved in auto racing, and the once strongly financed factory teams had been disbanded. Yet no official edict could wipe out an ingrained
