Angela wrote down a number. "This is Able's number. Call him. He'll know what to do."

Kyle took the number from Angela. "I'll do it," Kyle said. He picked up his phone, and Angela took the suit doc.u.ment. She started quizzing John.

"Did you have a contract?"

"We shook on it."

"Anything written?"

"No."

"Did Paquelli contribute to the business?"

John shrugged. "He provided a place for the machine."

"In exchange for a cut?"

"Yeah."

"What about working on the game? Did he help? Did he give you ideas?"

"I don't think he ever even played it," John said. He tried to remember a time when Ray was in the same room as the pinball machine, and couldn't except for the time he showed up at the lab to watch the first time.

"Where did you get the idea, anyway?" Angela asked.

John felt himself flush. "Well..."

"Don't answer that!" Angela said. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't have a leg to stand on. But that's the good news."

"There's bad?"

"Do you have any money? Do you have the cash on hand to fund a long legal battle?"

"Of course not!"

"Ray probably is guessing that, and thinks you'll be an easy mark."

"Couldn't Kyle...?"

Angela shook her head. "We're just students. We can't argue in court. Well, we could, but it's six kinds of felonies." She turned toward Kyle. "Have you heard of Paquelli's lawyer?"

"What's the name? Panderstack?"

"Per Panderzelder."

"Nope. Could be from Columbus."

"We just rented a warehouse," John said. "All our cash is tied up in parts."

"Do you have orders?" Angela asked.

"We do. A couple more bars want machines. And we had an inquiry from a firm in Las Vegas."

"No booked orders?"

"No, I guess not." John realized they'd been doing everything haphazardly.

Kyle slammed the phone down. "Good news!" he said.

"But there's bad news too," John said. "I'm beginning to get the pattern."

"Yeah, but good news first," Kyle said. "We got a hearing with the Department of Gambling Control. Swenson said that Treasury has no authority to order them off, but he does."

"When's the hearing?"

"January fifth."

"So we can keep them in the bars until then?"

"Well, bad-news time. Swenson wasn't convinced they were nongambling devices. He needs to see them. If he thinks they are, he'll ask you to pull the plug until the hearing."

"When is he coming to look?"

"He wouldn't say, but within the next three days."

"That would mean the end of our cash flow, if the games were shut down," John said.

"They need a real lawyer, Kyle," Angela said.

"I know!" Kyle seemed exasperated. "I feel responsible for you guys. Freshmen, building a business in one quarter."

"With quarters," John said.

"For quarters," Angela added.

"I'll call around for you," Kyle said. "We'll need a lawyer who'll take the case pro bono. But I know some people."

"Me too," Angela said. "You guys have appeal. College students, entrepreneurs, inventors. There might be public interest." She snapped her fingers. "We could paint Ray as the bad guy here. Too bad the school paper won't publish another issue until next year, but this won't show up on a docket for a month or more."

"That's a good idea," Kyle said. "You guys need some marketing help. You need some exposure."

"I don't know about that."

"Of course not, you're an engineer," Angela said. "Yours is a great story."

"Thanks for your help, guys," John said. "This is all too much."

"You said it," Kyle said. "We'll get you through this."

On the way back to his apartment, John's mind roiled. For a moment he was ready to chuck it all. What did this have to do with understanding the device? Nothing at all. Yet he couldn't abandon his friends. Nor could he bring them closer to himself. All this running around, all this legal maneuvering, seemed like so much bulls.h.i.t. It meant nothing in his universe.

The next day-a week before Christmas-John spent in the factory. He'd left the device at the apartment, unwilling to have the temptation nearby. Their cash box was empty, save a couple rolls of quarters he had to deposit. He'd swing by the machines later, but with school out he doubted there'd be more than a few dollars' worth of coins. Having all their machines near campus seemed like having all their eggs in one basket. Sure, it was easy to service the machines and collect coins. But they had saturated the market. And they were at the whim of the local climate: When school was out, they wouldn't get any traffic at all. Furthermore, they were under the thumb of the Toledo munic.i.p.ality, as seen by the hearing they had with the Department of Gambling Control.

The nibbles from the casino in Las Vegas hadn't come to anything yet. A company called Typhoon Gold wanted to take a closer look, however; they supplied casinos with games. If Pinball Wizard could get a larger order there, there'd be no complications with local laws. They could ship the machines anywhere.

Working on a machine in gloves and winter coat proved too c.u.mbersome. He moved all the equipment into one of the smaller offices, which had a woodstove in it. The chimney pipe fed through the window. Using cardboard as tender and broken pallets as fuel, both of which the factory had in oversupply, he stoked the woodstove enough so that he could work without a shirt.

The door banged open after noon, and John jumped up from his wiring, startled. He peered around the doorway to see Steve-the high school champion of the first tournament-standing there stamping off a dusting of snow from his feet.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Steve, what are you doing here?"

"Grace said I should come over and help."

"Don't you have school?"

"No, water main break," he said with a smile. "I'm here to help. I can solder, I can game test, I can-"

"Can you sweep?"

"What?"

"We have customers coming in three days after Christmas, and this room is a mess."

Steve's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, I guess."

John smiled at him. "Then you can help me with the soldering."

"All right!"

By evening, they managed to get the room cleaned out, swept, and half-painted with a utilitarian light gray. John realized that Steve had ridden his bike through the slush to get to the factory, so he threw the bike in the trunk of the Trans Am.

"What are those two guys doing?" Steve said.

John saw the black car then, parked in the alley that led to the factory. Two blond men wearing dark gla.s.ses sat in the car. John wouldn't have noticed them if Steve hadn't said anything, but now that he saw the car, it seemed out of place for the location.

"Watching," John said.

"Why?"

John had no idea. Maybe they were private detectives hired by Ray Paquelli. Maybe they were innocent bystanders, just waiting. Maybe they were employees of the Department of Gambling Control. No, not in that car.

Suddenly bold, John pulled right next to the car. He stared at the two, but they kept their heads facing straight ahead, as if they didn't see John and Steve staring.

"Maybe they're like one of those fake security systems," Steve said. "You don't spend the money on the system; you just buy the sign. They couldn't buy real security teams, so they bought some manikins."

"But they aren't manikins," John said.

Finally he pulled away.

Kyle called the next morning.

"Good news," he said. "Able Swenson saw no need to close the machines down."

"So we're good until the fifth of January?"

"I think so," Kyle said. "But he did say something interesting."

"What?"

"He said you had some odd enemies," Kyle said.

"What does that mean?"

"I dunno, but I a.s.sumed he meant he b.u.t.ted some heads with the Department of Treasury. But he wouldn't say for sure."

"Maybe Paquelli pulled some strings," John said.

"Maybe," Kyle said.

Immediately after, John dialed up Henry and Grace, giving them the summary.

"So both legal items are deferred until next year," Grace said. She sounded relieved. "Now we can focus on Typhoon Gold." They'd hinted at an order of one hundred machines.

"Steve and I painted the 'showroom,' " John said with a chuckle. "We're building three demo models, including another stand-alone one."

"You and that stand-alone model," Henry said.

"I'm a purist!"

"Yeah, but everyone likes the head-to-head ones," Grace said.

"Just because we built that one first," John grumbled.

"Three demo units," Henry said. "That should be fine."

"I'll be back the week after Christmas," Grace said. "In time for the Typhoon meeting. I told my parents I wanted to start studying early."

"Did you even sign up yet for cla.s.ses next quarter?" John asked.