There would be few legitimate uses for such a part. An airplane perhaps. But the normal use of the part didn't have to be legitimate. As the stamping had turned up in a child's toy, the connecting part could turn up anywhere. An airplane? Throughout the country the number of plane parts used by manufacturers in current production, the number carried as spares for older models, would run into the millions. Impossible to trace down such usage—in a pin-ball machine perhaps; or a lock on a trunk; or even in another toy.
There was always the chance that such a part did not even exist. He could be wrong, wildly wrong. Even if he were right, in theory, the part might not be quite as he imagined it. While he might see it as it had to be, someone else might not have designed quite so logically. The Mystery Ray Pistol, for instance.
No, that didn't follow. The Mystery Ray Pistol was definitely a distortion. Someone had gone out of his way to design and make use of a part that had no business in the assembly.
Then he found the part, in his own plant, where it should never have been.
And, it was just as he had visualized it, just as he had sketched it. Just as he knew it must be. It was in production, on subcontract, under his very nose.
It was strictly an accident, his finding it, Morton had picked up a rivet-making machine, at a bargain price, and they were making their own rivets. They still used rivets and bolts where other companies used spot welding. It gave the repair man a better chance to make repairs the way they should be made.
Tredel had gone out to the little shed where the machine was installed. The operator was in the corner, reading, when he entered. The man looked up, grinned a little sheepishly, then waved his hand at the machinery. He didn't try to talk. The rivet maker was going, with its loud, rapid phut-ti-phut-phut-ti-phut as it took the long wire from the drum, punched it into rivets, then ejected them into a stock cart. Tredel understood the gesture of the operator: "Takes care of itself, Boss. I just put on the wire and take away the rivets."
Well, that was all right. The place was clean and neat, rivets were being made, so there was nothing to complain about. Besides, the operator was reading a correspondence course in electronics. That was all right.
Tredel found the part in the trash barrel, bent a little out of shape. He picked it out quickly. There was no possibility of error. This was what he was looking for. Excited, eager, realizing his heart was pumping to the phut-ti-phut of the rivet maker, he signaled the operator to follow him out of the shed. In the quiet of the open air he held out the part.
"Yes sir?"
