Goldengirl

Serafin made an equivocal sideways movement with his head. ‘One balances these things, Mr. Dryden. Tactics are unimportant in the sprint events. Quite simply, one girl generates more speed than the others. Experience of competition, I grant you, is not so easily dismissed. The stress of lining up for a genuine race cannot be simulated on the training track. But if she is short on meet experience, what has she gained? Like the Kenyans, she is unconstrained in her approach to running, she has been spared the harassment of being known to the press and public, and she is capable when the time is right of delivering a devastating blow at the morale of her more famous rivals.’ He brought his hands together. ‘I could say more about our training methods, but others are better qualified to explain them. Let me tell you instead how we propose utilizing the next two days. Tomorrow, if you are agreeable, we shall airlift you to the Sierra training camp, where you will meet Goldengirl and the other members of our team. They will work through the scheduled events of the training program, and I think you will find answers graphically provided to the questions you might otherwise put to me this evening. We shall spend the night in the mountains, and then on Saturday there is a small meet in San Diego, where you will have the opportunity of seeing Goldengirl’s first appearance before the public. We cannot keep her under wraps forever. She has to produce times good enough to qualify her for the American Olympic Trials in Oregon next month.’

‘Looks as if I came the right weekend,’ said Dryden brightly.

‘You don’t think that’s pure chance?’ said Serafin, insensitive to Dryden’s irony. ‘We want you to have the opportunity of making up your mind about the project.’

‘Thanks. When do you want my decision?’

‘By Sunday at the latest.’

‘And if I turn you down?’

Serafin stood up. ‘Shall we adjourn to the bar for a nightcap?’

In the cocktail lounge the party split. Melody Fryer stood at Dryden’s elbow with her back to the others, excluding them. He ordered her a crème de menthe.

‘You know why he didn’t answer your question?’ she said. ‘About what happens if you don’t accept the commission? It doesn’t arise. He’s a positive thinker. He knows you’re smart, or you wouldn’t have the clients you do.’

‘I could be smart enough to see snags,’ said Dryden.

She lifted her shoulders a fraction. ‘What can you lose? He isn’t asking for funds. You only do your bit if Goldengirl gets to be a merchandising proposition.’

‘It isn’t quite so simple. For a job as big as this you make plans, stake something out. There are any number of commercial tie-ins I can think of, but it takes more than three renderings of the Star-Spangled Banner to get them under way.’

She held the drink so high that a patch of green danced on her throat. ‘Explain.’

‘Okay. Let’s say you’re in cosmetics. The Miss Melody range. Perfumes, soaps, creams, the lot.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘I approach you with a suggestion.’

‘It’s getting better,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.

‘To launch a new line. I tell you about this girl who just won three events in the Olympics. I’m suggesting you have a Goldengirl promotion. A triple gold seal on every product she endorses. With heavy advertising, you could move a lot of perfume.’

‘Gallons. Niagara isn’t in it,’ Melody said.

‘We draw up a contract. You call in your admen and your market researchers and your design boys. It’s a big launch, so you want to get it right. But a campaign on this scale takes weeks, months, to set up. While your artists are creating beautiful packages, the public are forgetting about the Olympics. It’s all in the timing, you see? As this is a one-time thing, the launch wants to be reasonably soon after she hits the headlines, otherwise you’ve lost the impact.’

‘So it means selling the idea in advance,’ said Melody. ‘That’s no problem. To be realistic, we can’t keep this secret after the Olympic team is chosen.’

Dryden smiled into his glass. ‘To be realistic, it’s a secret nobody’s going to believe.’

She leaned toward him, chiding him with an exaggerated pout. ‘Come, Jack Dryden! You must have some commercial contacts who’ll take your word that this is for real. If you believe in it yourself, you can convince anyone.’ She flicked her eyes over him speculatively. ‘I figure you should know a little about the art of persuasion.’

He gave her a level look. ‘Thanks. I’m saving it for Dr. Serafin.’