7
“Good morning, could I see Peter Wolanski, please?”
The young guy who had opened the door in the gate looked at Isaac closely and enquired politely:
“Who’s asking for him… and on what business?”
“My name is Isaac Leroy and I’m here on a personal matter.”
The young guy looked Isaac up and down again, cast a glance at his scooter and opened the door wider.
“We-ell, all ri-ight,” he said uncertainly, stretching out the words. “Come in,” he added.
He moved aside to let Isaac through.
The house itself was not large, and set on a wide, flat plot of ground – a rarity in the Cap d’Ail district. Six massive, dark-red columns, two of which ran down into a beautiful, sky-blue swimming pool. Windows down to the floor, lots of glass, lots of clear light and fresh air. The obligatory pampered palms trees on the grounds and lots of olive trees. A magnificent view of the sea. If someone lived in a villa like this, their life had come together very nicely. Through the glass walls Isaac saw a collection of modern art, both paintings and sculptures. He didn’t know much about artwork, but even he recognized one of the works as an Andy Warhol print.
“He’s sitting pretty,” thought Isaac. “It’s a shame my parents weren’t rich. But never mind, I’ll make it anyway.”
“Sit here,” the young guy told Isaac, pointing to a glass table surrounded by wicker furniture. “Well, I’m listening; tell what this personal matter you have for me is. I’m Peter Wolanski.”
Of course, Isaac had realized immediately that it was Peter himself who opened the gate. Although he hadn’t found a photo on the internet, the young guy was the right age, plus he had an accent. From the dossier Isaac remembered that Peter had no brothers or sisters, and this guy had studied him too closely to be simply an acquaintance or friend of the villa’s owner. Isaac had been right to pin on his scientific society badge from university. Peter was clearly familiar with the badge and it had a favorable effect.
“So what exactly brings you to see me?”
“I just wanted to meet you. And maybe make friends. We went to the same university, although at different time. And we’re members of the same scientific society. I’m an inventor, by the way.”
“You are? And what have you invented? And what’s the point of us becoming friends?”
“I’ve developed a couple of gadgets. Right now I’m planning to sell one of them.”
“Not to me, I hope?” Wolanski enquired.
“Of course not,” Isaac smiled. “Although you’re capable of buying, I’m not here to sell you anything…”
“Well, that’s splendid,” Peter put in.
“The reason for my coming Peter…May I call you Peter?” Peter nodded.
“Is to invite you to join a recently formed, let’s say… scientific society.”
“A scientific society? Interesting especially in times like these. What society is that?”
“Obviously you’re not a Happy,” said Isaac, testing the waters. “They never show so much curiosity.”
“Of course I’m not a Happy. I don’t have much faith in that piece of wishful thinking. And apart from that, it was a condition of my father’s will that no one in the Wolanski family should become a downloader. Not to mention that it’s also the fundamental condition of my inheritance,” Peter smiled ironically.
“I’m no fan of Einsteiner and the Agency either, although my rating is as much as 28015.”
“How much?” Peter asked in amazement. In fact Isaac’s rating was more than twice as high, but he had named the specific figure that was Peter’s level.
“Twenty-eight thousand and fifteen,” Isaac rapped out, articulating each figure distinctly.
“Incredible… How did you find out my rating?”
“Ah, this guy’s no fool,” Isaac thought to himself. “No wonder he’s a leader. No smokescreen for long with someone like this, better to try speaking more openly, or else he would sense a lie or a trick, wouldn’t believe and might even hand you over to the police.”
“Information came my way…” Isaac paused significantly, “from a very reliable source.”
“What information? How?”
Isaac wondered whether to tell him or not. There was a pause.
“Okay, all right. You don’t have to tell me. For now. Perhaps I don’t want to know anything about it.” Peter thought for a moment and added: “But since you’re here on a personal matter, and this is the first time I’ve seen you, I don’t promise to answer questions either.”
This made Isaac feel a little uneasy, his thoughts scattering. “I’ve read your student blog. I must say, you’re not very fond of Einsteiner. And I’m planning to go and download, so I decided to get some advice from people who are well up on this,” Isaac lied.
“Rubbish! For that you can log into the internet without ever leaving home. Good bye.”
“Wait! I’ve invented this,” said Isaac, changing the subject and putting the V-Rain on the table. “Turn on the lawn sprinkler and you’ll see how it works.”
“We’ll get soaked.”
“I don’t think so,” Isaac responded with a smile.
Peter took a remote control out of his pocket and turned on the sprinkler. Isaac neatly pressed the “on” button, and not a single drop fell on them or the table between them.
“Some gadget! That’s really cool.” Peter was impressed. “The range of action without increasing the size of the device is four meters, from four to five meters away ten per cent of the drops get through.”
“Yes, any restaurant would pay a heap of money for that gismo, it would let them keep the same number of tables out during a rainy spell.”
Now it was Isaac’s turn to sit there open-mouthed. Well done, Peter. Until this moment it hadn’t eve