Read Online The Second Son: A Novel by Jonathan Rabb - Free Book Online

Nuvolari two. A week after that in Budapest, and they’re one and two again, only this time reversed. Milan, it’s Nuvolari, and finally Rosemeyer takes the German Grand Prix last week. And on and on and on. We know there are ten other premium drivers out there every week—Chiron, Caracciola, Trossi—yet these are the two who come up with it every time.”
    “I’ll make a note,” said Hoffner. “What does it have to do with economics?”
    Radek ignored him. “Is it because they have the best cars? No. Half the drivers are with Alfa-Romeo. And I don’t have to tell you what it takes to handle that tank of an Auto Union thing. Sixteen cylinders. Have you seen it, Nikolai? You have to be a beast of a man just to keep the car on the road.”
    “So Rosemeyer and Nuvolari are reading Keynes?”
    “Shut up, Nikolai. The point is, you’d be an idiot not to put your money on one of these two. And yet, even with the odds, people don’t. Half the money every week finds its way onto Farina or Varzi or Stuck, and these are good drivers, don’t get me wrong. But the chances, if you look at the trends”—he shook his head in disbelief—“almost impossible. So you have to ask, Why do people do it?”
    It took Hoffner a moment to realize that Radek was waiting for an answer. “Primal urges?” he offered.
    “Exactly,” said Radek. “They buy something with no real possibility of a return because they want to believe it can have a return. And the oddsmakers tell them to believe it can have a return. ‘This week,’ they advertise, ‘Farina will do it. He has to do it. You have to want him to do it.’ And they trust this because they live in an ordered world where, if things go wrong, they can try again the next week and the next and the next. They buy a product they shouldn’t want to buy because they so desperately want it. And that, Nikolai, is economics.”
    Hoffner sat with this for a few moments before reaching for his whiskey. He took a drink. “So it’s the oddsmakers who are reading Keynes?” Hoffner expected a smile but Radek said nothing.
    Franz, now running his fork through the remains of his beef, said, “I wouldn’t push it on this one if I were you.”
    Hoffner smiled and looked at Radek. “We’re taking this latest theory very seriously, are we?”
    Radek said, “You enjoy being an idiot, don’t you?”
    “Not really a question of enjoying,” said Hoffner. “I think I liked the sex theory better, though. I’ve never bet on car racing.”
    “Last I checked,” said Radek, “you weren’t doing much on the sex front, either.”
    Hoffner laughed to himself.
    Radek set down the paper and took his glass. “You have any idea where he is?” He drank.
    Hoffner lapped back the last of his whiskey. “Barcelona,” he said. “Somewhere in there.” He raised his empty glass to a waiter. “I think everything’s happening up on hilltops right about now.”
    “And he’s alive?”
    “He has to be, doesn’t he?”
    “It’ll be hot.”
    The waiter appeared and took the glass. “Yes,” said Hoffner. “It will.”
    “Georgi’s good in spots like that. He always has been.”
    “You’ve met him twice, Zenlo.” There was an unexpected edge to Hoffner’s voice. “You have no idea who or what he is.” It was an awkward few moments before the food miraculously arrived, and Rolf and Franz were forced to stack their plates onto the empties so as to make room. Finally Hoffner said, “He’s always liked you, though. Liked that you never tried to corrupt me.”
    Radek was glad for the reprieve. “How much more corruption could you take?” When Hoffner started in on the noodles, Radek said, “You like Gershwin, Nikolai?” Hoffner focused on his plate and Radek said, “I do.”
    Hoffner nodded as he chewed.
    Rolf said lazily, “It’s not Gershwin.” He was working his way through a mouthful of potatoes.
    “What?” said Radek.
    “The piano,” said Rolf, swallowing. “It’s not