The Sharecropper Prodigy (30 page)

             
Ben was given full rein for his mind to work and what seemed like an infinite supply of funds to make his ideas come to fruition. If he had an idea that didn’t work, that was alright. He’d be given whatever he needed, in a hurry, for his next one. Ben was like a kid in a candy shop. He’d never felt so liberated in his life with so much access to volumes and volumes of books and papers from the most brilliant minds on the planet. He was corresponding with men who he had read and dreamed about before he ever left the little three room sharecropper shack on the Winston place. Men like J. Robert Oppenheimer, Enrico Fermi and even the venerable Albert Einstein. He had seen these men and shaken hands with them. None of them seemed to care, or even notice for that matter, that his skin was much darker than theirs. They were listening to his ideas and accepting them as if he were an equal. If only the rest of the world could see him the same way, once this project was completed and he was thrusts back out into it.

             
The only thing that was a thorn in his side was Ray Steward, the engineer, who for some reason was consumed with envy. Ray was from Texas, and despite his talent as a structural engineer with a promising future, he had the same notions embedded in his mind that many southerners had. That there was no way a black kid who hadn’t even turned eighteen years old could have the mental capacity to be working on one of the most complex and sophisticated projects ever to have been conceived. Ray knew it was just a matter of time until Ben’s true color would become apparent to everyone. He had found a fellow engineer who shared the same feelings he did. The man’s name was Andrew Feldman, a brilliant electrical engineer.

             
“Sooner or later that little nigger will crack under the pressure and screw something up real bad,” Andrew had told Ray. “Niggers can’t take too much pressure. Once in a while you’ll see a freak like little Ben emerge from the ashes who appears to be a genius. But at the core, he’s still a nigger and sooner or later that genetic flaw will be exposed.”

             
Andrew came up with an idea. “Let’s make out like we want to be friends with the little so-called genius,” he told Ray one day. “We’ll start asking him if there is anything we can do for him, since he works so hard and gets very little rest. We’ll brag on him, you know, stroke his ego. Make it look like his work is much more important than ours and that we admire his genius.”

             
“I’m not sure he has an ego,” Ray said. “He don’t have time for one. As much as I hate the little bastard, I’ll have to hand it to him. He is a hard worker.”

             
“Every nigger has an ego, Ray. There all like children at heart and love praise.”

             
“Well, what do you suggest we do, Andrew? There is nothing I would like better than to see him get his comeuppance. But are you suggesting sabotage? As much as I’d like to bring him down, I’m still a patriotic American who wants to see this project a success, and completed on schedule.”

             
“You just leave it to me, Ray. We won’t have to do anything to jeopardize the project. I have another idea.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

              “Hello, Ben. How are you this morning?” Andrew Feldman asked, a big smile on his otherwise sour face.

             
Ben was taken aback by the friendly greeting from a man. that up until now, had treated him like a bastard at a family reunion. “I’m fine, Mr. Feldman, and how are you?”

             
“Couldn’t be better, Ben. I slept better last night than I have in weeks. I just feel so revitalized.”

             
“That’s great, Mr. Feldman, I….”

             
“Please, Ben. Call me Andrew.”

             
“Ah…okay, Andrew. Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Ben couldn’t help being a little suspicious and reticent at Feldman’s sudden gregarious nature.

             
“Actually, Ben, there was something. I know I haven’t shown it in the past. I suppose it was because you were so young, and I’ll admit, a lot of it was just old fashioned jealousy. You’re not supposed to be a genius at your age, and I’d be lying to you if I told you I wasn’t a little bit prejudiced when it comes to negroes. Especially negroes who are smarter than I am.”

             
“But Mr., ah….Andrew. You are a brilliant engineer. You certainly don’t have any reason to be jealous.”

             
“Ah, but I do, Ben. I’ll never be as bright as you. Hell, I don’t know of many who will. But, all that aside, I’d like for us to start over. Make amends, so to speak. Or at least
I’d
like to make amends. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

             
“I’m all for it, Andrew. I’d love to have you as a friend.”

             
“Thank you, Ben. One of your most admirable qualities, aside from your genius of course, is your indefatigable work ethic. You have more physical and mental stamina than anyone I’ve ever encountered. Of course I know youth plays a role in that, but I don’t see you slowing down even when you become my age.” Feldman paused and sipped his coffee. Then he readjusted his glasses, pushing them down almost to the end of his prominent nose, that reminded Ben of a hawk’s beak.

             
“Well, I appreciate the compliments, Andrew. But you have a much more impressive resume` than me.”

             
“Well, I’m also twenty-years older than you,” Feldman said looking over the top of his glasses. “Anyway, I just want to let you know you have inspired me with your work ethic. I’ve decided to start working longer hours and do my part to make sure this project comes in on schedule. Our country is counting on us. Maybe you and me could put our heads together on a few things. I’ve been having some problems with various components, like relay switches and insulators, just to name a few.”

             
“Well sure, Andrew. I’d be glad to help you any way I can, and maybe you can figure out some things I’m having problems with.”

             
Feldman smiled and set his coffee on the table. He wiped his hand on his pants leg and stuck out his hand. Ben reached out and shook it, still feeling a little leery. But he decided he would take Feldman at his word and give him the benefit of the doubt.

*****

              It was late and Ben was tired. He had drank enough coffee that night to float a small battleship and every time he thought he was making progress, his bladder would remind him of all the coffee he had consumed. He thought about just calling it a day, or night, since it was past 10:00 PM. He had been in the offices since six that morning. Feldman had stayed true to his word. He had been working almost as many hours as Ben, and had come to him for advice and ideas on several occasions. Tonight was no exception. He was in the next office, locked in of course, as was the protocol. Ben decided to tell him goodnight before he left. As he was reaching to get his key from the chain that was fastened to his belt loop, he happened to look through the thick glass of the doors narrow window. He saw Feldman holding a small object up to his eye that he was pointing at one of the blueprints. He couldn’t tell for sure because the window was so narrow it kept him from seeing the whole room, but he thought Feldman was alone. He watched for several minutes as Feldman would snap a picture, then turn the page of the blueprints and repeat the process.
Why is he photographing the blueprints?
Ben was asking himself.
Is he under orders to do that? Perhaps some of the people in Washington want photographs for some reason. But why?
Ben was sure everyone in Washington that needed to see the drawings received a full sized set of prints. Maybe the engineers just didn’t have time to get them everything they needed.

             
Ben decided he would see what Feldman’s reaction was when he put the key in the door and started to unlock it. He made as much noise as he could as he continued to watch through the window. As soon as he started turning the key, Feldman quickly stuck the tiny camera inside his white lab coat pocket, which was standard issue for everyone working inside the offices. Ben walked through the door smiling and acting as though he’d seen nothing.

             
“Hey, Andrew. I’m almost worn to a frazzle,” Ben said stretching his arms over his head and faking a yawn, “I’m afraid of makin’ mistakes when I get this tired. I think I’ll call it a night. Is anybody in the offices besides us two?”

             
“I don’t think so, Ben, unless someone’s in office four. I think everyone is beat. But we’re making great progress. Do you realize how far we’ve come since you started working here? What has it been now, six or seven months?”

             
“Almost eight,” Ben answered.

             
“Well, we’re going to beat those Nazi’s to the punch. There’s nothing like the indomitable spirit of the American people, especially when they work together.”

             
“I agree,” Ben said. “But if I don’t get some rest, I’m afraid I’m gonna do more harm than good. I’m headin’ home. See you tomorrow.”

             
“Okay friend,” Feldman responded warmly.

             
Ben let himself out of the maze of offices and through the front entrance. He said goodnight to the guard working the graveyard shift and turned up the street toward his house. When he was out of sight of the guard he quickly darted off the sidewalk and ducked behind a parked car. He was going to wait until Feldman came out and follow him. He didn’t really know what he expected to gain from it, but he decided to do it anyway. He looked around at all the houses, making sure nobody was watching. The lights were out in almost all the houses, so he figured he was safe.

             
After what seemed like an eternity squatting behind the car on the hard pavement, Feldman walked out of the building. To Ben’s surprise he started walking in his direction. Feldman’s house was in the opposite direction. Ben crawled around to the side of the car opposite the sidewalk and laid down flat. When he saw Feldman’s feet walk past the car, he crept over and peered around the back bumper. After letting him get a safe distance away, Ben started to follow, staying in the grass so his footsteps couldn’t be heard. He dashed from house to house, staying hidden in the shadows and hoping he didn’t encounter one of the residents barking dogs.

             
After Feldman had walked past the fire hall, he turned right on the next street that led into a neighborhood where mostly construction workers lived. There was a little iron bridge that crossed over a small creek about three blocks down the street. Just before Feldman reached the bridge he stopped walking and turned and looked all around him. As soon as he was sure nobody was around or watching, he disappeared down the steep bank that led down to the creek. Ben waited, hiding behind another car and hoping, praying, nobody saw him and thought he was trying to steal something. Ben waited. Dogs were barking in the distance and he had to duck low when an occasional car came by. It was almost eleven o’clock, so the shift change had already taken place and most people were already asleep, or soon would be. He only hoped his luck held out for a few more minutes.

             
A porch light came on about four houses up from where Ben was hiding behind the car and he saw a man walk out on the front porch and light a cigarette. The night was cool and he was hoping the man wouldn’t linger very long. The man walked out to his car, opened the door and got something out. Then he hurried back in the house and turned off the porch light. As soon as Ben turned his attention back toward the bridge, he saw Feldman emerge, dusting off his pants from climbing back up the steep bank. He started walking briskly back toward Ben, who was once again laying down flat beside the car he was using for cover. When he was sure Feldman had plenty of time to be a good distance ahead, he got up and left out in a trot.

*****

              I thought I was dreaming until Rachel finally shook me awake.

             
“What is it?” I asked in a groggy and irritated voice.

             
“Somebody’s knockin’ on the back door,” she said.

             
“Oh, so I wasn’t dreamin’ then,” I said.

             
“Who on earth would be knockin’ on the door at this time of night? And why didn’t they come to the front door?” Rachel asked, fearing something bad may have happened.

             
“I’ll go find out,” I said.

             
I turned on the lamp that sat on the nightstand and found my pants. I almost fell flat on my face as I got tangled up, trying to hurry. I didn’t see a shirt laying nearby, so I grabbed my coat that was hanging on the hall tree as I walked toward the back door. I was hoping it wasn’t someone wanting to rob me, because I didn’t have anything in my hand. The banging started again just as I flipped on the light and opened the door. Ben had one hand against the side of the house, his head resting in the crook of his arm. He was breathing hard and sweating, so I knew he must have been running.