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His brother, watching the mob scene with an air of detachment, retorted,“Don’t hate them. Love them. They are our customers, Colin. Our hapless, dimwitted customers, and they’re all crazy about our product.”

“Yeah, so crazy that they’re about to knock out our windows and drag us out into the street so they can beat us up.”

“Nah, they’ll never go that far. Though it would be a testament to their enthusiasm for the Duffer.”

Colin sighed.“You do realize we’re losing money, don’t you? And not making it?”

“As soon as we’re fully stocked on Duffers again we’ll be swimming in cash, buddy. It’ll be like printing money, and we don’t even have to go through the tedious process of installing a printing press and becoming counterfeiters. All we have to do is create more Duffers. Easy as pie. Or sausage.”

“So what’s taking so long?”

“Technical issues. Our technicians are working on it. When you move to a fully automated production process there’s always kinks to be ironed out at first. But as soon as everything is up to speed we’ll be able to crank out twice as many Duffers as before.”

“We should never have built that new plant,” Colin grumbled. “We were doing fine.”

“You can’t stop progress, little brother. Or have you forgotten about the Chinese?”

“Setting up a production line in China shouldn’t pose a problem,” Colin admitted.

“Though we’ll have to tweak the formula, of course.”

“Of course,” Colin agreed.

“We did a blind taste test in Beijing last week.”

“And?”

“They loved it! Absolutely loved the Duffer!”

“Do you think we could try the Chinese formula over here?”

“Why not? But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s stick to the tried and true for now.”

“For now,” Colin agreed. They both stared at the seething masses protesting on the sidewalk, then Colin said, “Did I tell you that a reporter dropped by the house earlier?”

“No, you didn’t. What did she want?”

“Oh, the usual. The history of the Duffer, for a puff piece in theGazette.”

“Soon there will be puff pieces in theTimes,Good Housekeeping,USA Today…”

“Do you really think all this exposure is a good idea?”

“A good idea! It’s free publicity, bro. And besides, all publicity is good publicity. So keep the bloodhounds from the press coming, and we’ll keep serving them Duffers.”

But as Colin watched the mob shouting slogans about bringing the Duffer back, he couldn’t help experiencing those niggling doubts playing havoc with his nervous system.

Chris might be the glass-half-full kind of guy, but he wasn’t. He also knew the tremendous risks they had taken—and were still taking. Then again, every successful business person took risks. Their father had taken the same risks, and their grandfather before him. Their current risks might be a little bigger than theirs, but the rewards they’d reap would have made papa and grandpapa proud. At least if they managed to get the new Duffer into stores. If not, that mob would destroy them as soon as praise them.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Uncle Alec opened his eyes. He discovered to his surprise that he’d fallen asleep. He’d been lying on his side on the hard floor and had been sure he’d never be able to find sleep, but somehow his tired body had taken over and shut down for a refreshing nap.

He didn’t feel all that refreshed, though. More as if he’d been put on the rack. He got up and stretched his sore limbs, and saw that Elon in the cell across from him had the same idea.

“And?” Elon asked, a vague hope in his voice. “Any ideas on how to get us out of here?”

“None,” said Alec.

“Hey, you’re the chief of police, man. You’re paid to come up with ideas.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say I’m not a professional escape artist, all right?”

“You don’t have to bite my nose off. I’m just saying. If you can’t get us out of here, who can? I’m just a shelf stacker who got lucky and won Mega Millions.” He glanced over to the third prisoner, still tucked away in his cell right next to Alec.

“Don’t look at me,” Bertie grumbled. “I’m just an insurance broker who got unlucky when his wife decided to favor a hairy bald traveling salesman over her husband.”

In spite of their predicament, Alec laughed.“How can a man be hairy and bald at the same time?”

“Trust me, it’s possible,” grunted Bertie.

They were all silent for a beat, and Alec frowned when he focused on the noise that seemed to be coming from behind the door to his left.“Do you guys hear that?” he asked.

“Sounds like cats,” said Elon.

“Yeah, cats,” Alec confirmed. “And a lot of them.”

Suddenly a bear of a man wearing a mask passed by their cells, put his ear to the door where the caterwauling was coming from, then pounded the door with his fist. “Shut up, you stupid creatures!” The cats ignored his instructions, for the caterwauling continued in full force. “Stupid animals,” the man muttered, then gave the door a kick with his booted foot for good measure and walked away.

“Hey, buddy,” said Elon. “How long are you going to keep us down here?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry,” said Bertie. “When are you going to feed us again?”