“Okay, okay.” Sometimes Abe’s help was no help. “It runs, but only in one direction. Explain me that.”

“Easy,” Abe said, and twanged the metal antenna. “This is where it gets its instructions. Somewhere, someone or something is sending its steering mechanism—via this antenna—the message to head in a certain direction. Without this little wire, the steering mechanism would be deaf, and the car would head in whatever direction you point it. Here, I’ll show you.”

“That’s okay,” Jack said, reaching for the truck.

But Abe pulled it back out of reach. “You don’t want I should prove it?”

What he didn’t want was Abe messing too much with the toy.

“I just don’t want you should break it. I’ve got a gut feeling that thing will lead me to the mysterious ‘Clayton technology.’ But if its directional mechanism gets screwed up—”

“Nothing will get screwed up. What’s to screw up? It’s an antenna—just a piece of wire. Only take me a second.”

Jack watched helplessly as Abe adjusted his reading glasses and picked up a pair of needle-nose pliers. After some fiddling, some twisting, and a few muttered curses, he managed to remove the aerial.

“There,” he said. He handed the chassis to Jack. “Nothing to it. Go ahead. Now you’ll see. Point it wherever. It’s uptown-running days are over.”

Jack turned it over and flipped the power switch.

Nothing.

He flipped it back and forth from on to off and back again.

Still nothing. Oh, hell.

“Swell, Abe. Now it doesn’t run at all. You broke it.”

“What? Impossible.”

“No, you did.” Jack flipped the switch back and forth again. “Look.”

“Quit kvetching and give it here.”

Jack handed it back and leaned on the bench. He stared at the scarred surface, asking himself how he could have let this happen, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. That little car was his only lead.

And then he heard the soft whine of the little motor. He looked up and saw the Rover’s wheels spinning.

“Thank God. What did you do?”

Abe was staring at the chassis, frowning. “Reinserted the aerial, that’s all.”

“Well, whatever it was—”

The motor died as Abe removed the aerial again. Then started up when he reinserted it. Off… on… off… on… all in time with the aerial.

“You must be breaking a circuit,” Jack said.

But Abe didn’t reply. His frown was deeper as he pulled out a magnifying glass of his own and focused it on the aerial socket.