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eady。 'You can't mix cattle food in the same vats； for instance。 You can put things in cattle feed that are prohibited for racehorses。 You can get traces of prohibited substances in the horse…cubes just by using the same equipment； even if you think you've cleaned everything thoroughly。'
There had been a famous example in racing of a trainer getting into trouble by unknowingly giving his runners contaminated nuts。
'Fancy；' I said。
I thought I might have overdone the impressed look I gave him； but he accepted it easily。
'We do nothing else except horse…cubes here；' Willy said。 'Owen says when we expand we'll do cattle feed and chicken pellets； and all sorts of other muck； but I'll be staying here； Owen says； in charge of the equine branch。'
'A top job；' I said with admiration。
He nodded。 'The best。'
We walked along the gallery and came to another fire…door； which he lugged open。
'All these internal doors are locked at night now； and there's a watchman with a dog。 Very thorough； is Owen。' He looked back to make sure I was following； then stopped at a place from which we could see bags marked with red maple leaves travelling upwards on an endless belt of bag…sized ledges； only to be tumbled off the top and be manhandled by two smoothly swinging muscular workers。
'I expect you saw those two security men in the entrance hall？' Willy Parrott said； the question of security not yet exhausted。
'They frisked me；' I grinned。 'Going a bit far； I thought。'
'They're Owen's private bodyguards；' Willy Parrott said with a mixture of awe and approval。 'They're real hard men from Liverpool。 Owen says he needs them in case the petitors try to get rid of him the old…fashioned way。'
I frowned disbelievingly。 'petitors don't kill people。'
'Owen says he's taking no risks because he definitely is trying to put other firms out of business； if you look at it that way。'
'So you think he's right to need bodyguards？'
Willy Parrott turned to face me and said； 'It's not the world I was brought up in； lad。 But we have to live in this new one； Owen says。'
'I suppose so。'
'You won't get far with that attitude； lad。' He pointed to the rising bags。 'That's this year's wheat straight from the prairie。 Only the best is good enough； Owen says； in trade wars。'
He led the way down some nearby concrete stairs and through another heavy door； and I realised we were on ground level just off the central atrium。 With a smile of satisfaction he pushed through one more door and we found ourselves amid the vast mixing vats； pygmies surrounded by giants。
He enjoyed my expression。
'Awesome；' I said。
'You don't need to go back upstairs to get out；' he said。 'There's a door out to the yard just down here。'
I thanked him for his advice about the nuts for the farmer； and for showing me round。 I'd been with him for half an hour and couldn't reasonably stretch it further； but while I was in mid…sentence he looked over my shoulder and his face changed pletely from man…in…charge to subservient subject。
I turned to see what had caused this transformation and found it not to be a Royal Person but a large man in white overalls acpanied by several anxious blue…clad attendants who were practically walking backwards。
'Morning； Willy；' said the man in white。 'Everything going well？'
'Yes； Owen。 Fine。'
'Good。 Has the Canadian wheat e up from the docks？'
'They're unloading it now； Owen。'
'Good。 We should have a talk about future plans。 e up to my new office at four this afternoon。 You know where it is？ Top floor； turn right from the lift； like my old office。'
'Yes； Owen。'
'Good。'
The eyes of the businessman glanced my way briefly and incuriously； and passed on。 I was wearing brown overalls and an identity card； after all； and looked an employee。 Not an employee of much worth； either； with my over…big overalls wrinkling around my ankles and drooping down my arms to the fingers。 Willy didn't attempt to explain my presence； for which I was grateful。 Willy was almost on his knees in reverence。
Owen Yorkshire was； without doubt； impressive。 Easily over six foot tall； he was simply large； but not fat。 There was a lot of heavy muscle in the shoulders； and a trim； sturdy belly。 Luxuriant closely…waving hair spilled over his collar； with the beginnings of grey in the lacquered wings sweeping back from above his ears。 It was a hairstyle that in its way made as emphatic a statement as Jonathan's。 Owen Yorkshire intended not only to rule but to be remembered。
His accent was not quite Liverpool and not at all London； but powerful and positive。 His voice was unmistakably an instrument of dominance。 One could imagine that his rages might in fact shake the building。 One could have sympathy with his yes…men。
Willy said； 'Yes； Owen；' several more times。
The man…to…man relationship that Willy Parrott prized so much extended； I thought； not much further than the use of first names。 True； Owen Yorkshire's manner to Willy was of the 'we're all in this together' type of management technique； and seemed to be drawing the best out of a good man； but I could imagine the boss also finding ways of getting rid of his Willy Parrott； if it pleased him； with sad shrugs and 'you know how it is these days； we no longer need a production manager just for horse…cubes； your job is puterised and phased out。 Redundancy money？ Of course。 See my secretary。 No hard feelings。'
I hoped it wouldn't happen to Willy。
Owen Yorkshire and his satellites swept onwards。 Willy Parrott looked after him with pride tinged very faintly with anxiety。
'Do you work tomorrow？' I asked。 'Is the factory open on Saturdays？'
He reluctantly removed his gaze from the Yorkshire backview and began to think I'd been there too long。
'We're opening on Saturdays from next week；' he said。 'Tomorrow they're making more advertising films。 There will be cameras all over the place； and on Monday too。 We won't get anything useful done until Tuesday。' He was full of disapproval； but he would repress all that； it was clear； for man…to…man Owen。 'Off you go then； lad。 Go back to the entrance and leave the overalls and identity tag there。'
I thanked him again and this time went out into the central yard which； since my own arrival； had bee clogged with vans and truckloads of television and advertising people。 The television contingent were from Liverpool。 The advertisement makers； according to the identification on their vans； were from Intramind Imaging （Manchester） Ltd。
One of the Intramind drivers； in the unthinking way of his kind； had braked and parked at an angle to all the other vehicles。 I walked across to where he still sat in his cab and asked him to straighten up his van。
'Who says so？' he demanded belligerently。
'I just work here；' I said； still in the brown overalls that； in spite of Willy Parrott's instructions； I was not going to return。 'I was sent out to ask you。 Big artics have to get in here。' I pointed to the unloading bays。
The driver grunted； started his engine； straightened his vehicle； switched off and jumped down to the ground beside me。
'Will that do？' he asked sarcastically