have to be a spaceship, John,” he said. “Like, a submarine, you know, a submarine’s just like a spaceship.”
“Well, that’s true,” Dortmunder admitted.
“Or a boat,” Wally said. “Once you find the treasure, you know exactly where it is, you can lower the magnet, pull the treasure up.”
“Yeah, but, you know,” Dortmunder said, more gently than he’d intended (it wasn’t easy to be hard–edged or sardonic when gazing down into that round guileless face), “you know, uh, Wally, part of the problem here is, we don’t want anybody to see us. You put a boat, a big boat with a big magnet, out on the reservoir, they’re just gonna see you, Wally. I mean, they really are.”
“Not at night,” Wally pointed out. “You could do it at night. And,” he said more eagerly, getting into the swing of it, “it doesn’t matter about it being dark, because it’s going to be dark down at the bottom of the reservoir anyway.”
“And that’s also true,” Dortmunder agreed. He looked over Wally’s soft head at Kelp’s grimacing face. Kelp seemed to be undergoing various emotional upheavals over there. “We’ll do it at night,” Dortmunder explained to Kelp, benignly.
“Wally,” Kelp said, desperation showing around the edges, “show us solution number three, Wally. Please?”
“Okay,” Wally said, eager to be of help. Turning right back to his computer, he tickled the keyboard once more, and away went 2A) MAGNET. In its place appeared: 3) PING–PONG BALLS
Kelp sighed audibly. “Oh, Wally,” he said.
“Well, wait a minute,” Dortmunder told him. “That’s not a bad one.”
Kelp stared at him. “It isn’t?”
“No, it isn’t. I get the idea of that one,” Dortmunder said, and explained, “That’s like one of the things in that book I brought back from the library, that Marine Salvage book. Of course, I only read a little of the book on the subway coming home, before Andy said let’s go see what you have on all this.”
Kelp said, “John? Ping–Pong balls are in the book? ”
“Not exactly,” Dortmunder admitted. “But it led me to the same kind of thought. There’s sunken ships where to get them up they fill them with polyurethane foam or polystyrene granules, and it’s really just plastic bubbles of air taking the place of all the water inside the ship —”
“That’s right!” Wally said. He was so excited at the idea of actual brain–to–brain contact with another human being at this level that he positively bounced in his chair. “And what is a Ping–Pong ball?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s just a ball of air, isn’t it? Enclosed in a thin, almost weightless skin of plastic!”
“It’s a way to get a lot of air down to the ship in a hurry without a lot of trouble,” Dortmunder went on, explaining it all to Kelp. “So I was thinking, maybe you could fire them down through a length of hose.”
Kelp stared at his old friend. “John? This is your kind of solution?”
“Well, no, because the problem is,” Dortmunder said, and looked down at Wally’s gently perspiring face, “the problem is, Wally, this isn’t a ship. It’s a closed box, and if we open it to put the Ping–Pong balls in, we’re gonna get water in there and spoil all the, uh, treasure.”
“Well, that’s solution three–A,” Wally said, and his fingers played a riff on the keyboard, and now the screen said: 3A) PLASTIC BAG
“Oh, sure,” Dortmunder said. “That makes sense. We’re down there, somehow, probably in our spaceship, and we find this six–hundred–pound box and we dig it up, probably with our giant magnet, and then we put it in our giant plastic bag, and then we fill that with Ping–Pong balls, and it just floats right to the surface. Easy.”
“Well, kind of,” Wally said, his feet shuffling around among the casters of his swivel chair. “There’s still some bugs to be ironed out.”
“Some bugs,” Dortmunder
“Well, that’s true,” Dortmunder admitted.
“Or a boat,” Wally said. “Once you find the treasure, you know exactly where it is, you can lower the magnet, pull the treasure up.”
“Yeah, but, you know,” Dortmunder said, more gently than he’d intended (it wasn’t easy to be hard–edged or sardonic when gazing down into that round guileless face), “you know, uh, Wally, part of the problem here is, we don’t want anybody to see us. You put a boat, a big boat with a big magnet, out on the reservoir, they’re just gonna see you, Wally. I mean, they really are.”
“Not at night,” Wally pointed out. “You could do it at night. And,” he said more eagerly, getting into the swing of it, “it doesn’t matter about it being dark, because it’s going to be dark down at the bottom of the reservoir anyway.”
“And that’s also true,” Dortmunder agreed. He looked over Wally’s soft head at Kelp’s grimacing face. Kelp seemed to be undergoing various emotional upheavals over there. “We’ll do it at night,” Dortmunder explained to Kelp, benignly.
“Wally,” Kelp said, desperation showing around the edges, “show us solution number three, Wally. Please?”
“Okay,” Wally said, eager to be of help. Turning right back to his computer, he tickled the keyboard once more, and away went 2A) MAGNET. In its place appeared: 3) PING–PONG BALLS
Kelp sighed audibly. “Oh, Wally,” he said.
“Well, wait a minute,” Dortmunder told him. “That’s not a bad one.”
Kelp stared at him. “It isn’t?”
“No, it isn’t. I get the idea of that one,” Dortmunder said, and explained, “That’s like one of the things in that book I brought back from the library, that Marine Salvage book. Of course, I only read a little of the book on the subway coming home, before Andy said let’s go see what you have on all this.”
Kelp said, “John? Ping–Pong balls are in the book? ”
“Not exactly,” Dortmunder admitted. “But it led me to the same kind of thought. There’s sunken ships where to get them up they fill them with polyurethane foam or polystyrene granules, and it’s really just plastic bubbles of air taking the place of all the water inside the ship —”
“That’s right!” Wally said. He was so excited at the idea of actual brain–to–brain contact with another human being at this level that he positively bounced in his chair. “And what is a Ping–Pong ball?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s just a ball of air, isn’t it? Enclosed in a thin, almost weightless skin of plastic!”
“It’s a way to get a lot of air down to the ship in a hurry without a lot of trouble,” Dortmunder went on, explaining it all to Kelp. “So I was thinking, maybe you could fire them down through a length of hose.”
Kelp stared at his old friend. “John? This is your kind of solution?”
“Well, no, because the problem is,” Dortmunder said, and looked down at Wally’s gently perspiring face, “the problem is, Wally, this isn’t a ship. It’s a closed box, and if we open it to put the Ping–Pong balls in, we’re gonna get water in there and spoil all the, uh, treasure.”
“Well, that’s solution three–A,” Wally said, and his fingers played a riff on the keyboard, and now the screen said: 3A) PLASTIC BAG
“Oh, sure,” Dortmunder said. “That makes sense. We’re down there, somehow, probably in our spaceship, and we find this six–hundred–pound box and we dig it up, probably with our giant magnet, and then we put it in our giant plastic bag, and then we fill that with Ping–Pong balls, and it just floats right to the surface. Easy.”
“Well, kind of,” Wally said, his feet shuffling around among the casters of his swivel chair. “There’s still some bugs to be ironed out.”
“Some bugs,” Dortmunder
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