Psychomech (12 page)

Perhaps she understood, for she squeezed his hand and he felt her smile warm him. ‘It was heads an early night, tails a drink. The coin came down heads.’

‘So why are you here?’

‘I had to make it the best of five! No, seriously, I thought you might come for a drink before… well, before.’ Over in the corner one of the guards guffawed and slapped the table. The other muttered a gruff curse. Germans are voluble about their card-playing.

Koenig had already sensed an atmosphere between the two at the bar. He knew nothing of their affair, but sensed something. There was a sadness, an aching. But not a needful aching. It was a time for privacy. He snapped his fingers in the direction of the corner table.

‘Raus!’ he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. ‘Es ist spat.’

Grumbling, the two got to their feet, came over to the bar. ‘If you don’t mind,’ one of them said in German, ‘we’ll take a bottle with us.’

‘I do mind,’ said Willy quietly. ‘Get out of here!’

‘Now wait a moment—’ the second guard began.

Koenig growled and started to come out from behind the bar.

‘Let them have a bottle,’ said Vicki quickly. ‘It’s on me.’

Koenig paused, shrugged, said: ‘As you wish, Fraulein.’ He passed a bottle from the back of the bar and the two men went out. They were very quiet now and seemed relieved.

‘Well,’ Koenig nodded, managed a good-natured smile, ‘I was just about to leave. Will you excuse me? I have things to do. I’ll be back later to tidy up.’

‘Willy, don’t go just yet,’ said Garrison. ‘Actually, I was hoping to find you here. There are some things I’d like to ask you.’

This seemed to unsettle Koenig. ‘About the ESP building? I don’t know a great deal about that place.’

‘Willy, you have to understand, I’m blind. Really blind. I only have Thomas’s word for what happened in there…’

‘Richard—’ The other had dropped the ‘sir’ and his voice was tense. ‘We can’t talk about that building, not in front of… not
even
in front of—’

‘I’m going upstairs now,’ Vicki discreetly said. ‘I’ve had my drink. It wasn’t my intention to get merry or maudlin.’ She placed a hand on Garrison’s knee, squeezed gently, got down from her stool and left.

‘Listen,’ Garrison continued when she had gone, ‘I know you love your Colonel. I’ve only known him a little while but I can understand that. And I don’t blame you. I envy you all the years you’ve known him. He’s a very strange, very wonderful man. But—I couldn’t
see
the results of what we did in there. I sensed that what he told me was the truth, but—’

‘If Thomas said something was so, then it was so,’ Koenig interrupted. ‘He has tested me, too—though with middling results. He scrupulously records all such tests. The machines themselves record the results. What good to cheat oneself when the machines give the lie?’

‘Yes, well I’m sure you’re right—but I wasn’t so much worried about him cheating himself as cheating me.’

‘But don’t you see? Why, that would amount to the same thing! He sees his future as being tied up in you. I saw him briefly tonight. He told me he had made a pact with you. In matters such as this, as in all business matters, he is absolutely straight. Why should he rig a deal of this sort? And why rig it in your favour?’

‘You know all about this reincarnation thing?’

‘Of course. He confides in me.’

‘And you believe—’

‘I believe he will do it, yes. That is why, when he dies, I must come to you.’

‘But according to our horoscopes by this chap Schenk—’

‘I know about that, too. Eight years, yes. And who is to care for you through those eight years, eh?’

‘Jesus!’ Garrison’s face turned pale and angry. ‘I have to learn to care for myself!’

‘Oh, you have much more to learn than that, Richard. A great many things. And who is to teach you? Let me assure you, Thomas Schroeder does not intend to come back as a poor man, nor as a weak one. And anyway, what have you to lose? If he fails you will not lose. And if he succeeds—’ Garrison sensed his shrug. ‘Whichever, you can only win. Anyway, the pact is made…’

They drank together in silence then for a while. Finally Garrison said, ‘Those tests, they’re weird!’

‘I thought so too,’ said Koenig. ‘But then, I was no good at it. Thomas, on the other hand—’

‘Is exceptional,’ Garrison finished it. ‘And yet he said I made him look like a beginner.’

Koenig was impressed. ‘But that is very good! What tests did you undergo?’

‘Almost everything.’

‘In one afternoon? That really is fantastic. Tell me about them.’

‘I caused an exact kilogram of lead to weigh one tenth of a gram less for a period of three-quarters of a second. I levitated or teleported three droplets of water from a full glass to an empty one. I caused a tiny propeller to spin in an airless container. All useless things. Using my hands, I could have performed these same tasks and fifty others in minutes, and almost without conscious thought. I mean, what did I achieve? I change things more effectively simply by lifting this glass to my lips and drinking! And what did I get out of it? A headache! I could have got that, too, from drinking, but far more enjoyably.’

‘No,’ said Koenig, ‘you are not telling it all. You astounded Thomas, and that is no easy task. You can’t fool me, Richard. Thomas has given you something to believe in, and the belief is spreading through your system like wildfire.’

Garrison looked as if he might deny it, then sighed and nodded. ‘According to Schenk’s forecast, I shall see again. Isn’t that something to believe in?

‘Oh, yes! That would be a wonderful thing. But come on—what other tests did you perform?’

Again Garrison sighed. ‘Of all of them, one in particular stays in my mind,’ he eventually said. ‘I sat in one soundproof cubicle, Thomas in another. I had a board with four buttons marked with symbols. The symbols were a circle, a square, a triangle and a wavy line, in that order. The game was this: I chose a symbol, passed it through my mind to Thomas, and after a few seconds pressed its button. In the Colonel’s cubicle a red light would come on each time I pressed a button, when he must try to guess and press the same symbol. We were testing our telepathic abilities, you see? And the machine logged my choices and the Colonel’s responses. The odds against him getting any correct answers were three to one every time. But… he did very well. Better than forty-five per cent, which he says is far and away the best he ever did. Then it was my turn…’

‘Yes?’

‘Thomas became the sender and I the receiver. And—’

‘Go on.’

‘My results were almost one hundred per cent. It was only later we realized I hadn’t even been able to see the red light!’

Koenig gripped his shoulder. ‘But that is amazing! No wonder Thomas is exhausted. The excitement—’

‘If…
if
I can believe him about all the things we did in there,’ Garrison continued, ‘then I must at least concede the possibility of the rest.’ He remembered again the horoscopes, the fact that he still had two of the cards in his pocket. He took them out, smoothed them flat on the top of the bar.

‘Willy, will you read these for me? Honestly, mind you?’

‘Of course I will.’ Koenig picked up the cards. ‘And honestly, you may be sure.’

‘Wait,’ said Garrison. ‘Have you seen these before?’

‘No, I was only told the result of my own reading.’

‘OK,’ said Garrison, ‘read them to me.’

‘The first one is—Vicki Maler,’ said Koenig.

Garrison nodded. ‘Go on,’ he said.

“Vicki Maler, darkness. Time-scale: now.”

“Death. Time-scale: one year!”

Garrison nodded again. He felt sick, as if Koenig’s words had somehow increased the probability of Vicki’s death. He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, that’s what—’

‘There’s something else,’ Koenig interrupted.

‘What?’

‘At the bottom of the card. A question mark. And in the time-scale column, the figure eight.’

Garrison took back the card. ‘I didn’t know about that. I don’t know what it means. Thomas didn’t mention it.’

‘An afterthought, perhaps, on Schenk’s part? A doodle?’

Garrison sat stiffly on his stool, frowning. He licked his lips. ‘My card,’ he said. ‘Read that one to me.’

’“Richard Garrison,”’ Koenig began. ‘“Darkness—”’

‘No, from “Machine”, near the bottom.’

‘Ah, yes. I have it. “Machine. Time-scale: to eight years. RG/TS… Light!’”

‘That’s all!’

‘No,’ the other gave a half-shrug. ‘Another doodle. A sort of scrawl, crossed out, and another question mark.’

‘Can’t you make out what it is? Garrison was eager.

‘Initials, maybe. Let me see. A “V” perhaps? And… one other letter. Also obliterated. Something Schenk must have known was an error.’

‘An “M” maybe?’

‘Possibly. Yes, it looks like an “M”.’

Garrison took back the card. ‘One more thing. This letter.’ He took out Schroeder’s letter to Heinz Holzer and passed it over.

‘Do you want me to read everything?’

‘Just the text.’

‘As you wish.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Moment mat. A moment, please. I have to translate…

“Dear Heinz, a long time since we corresponded. We must get together sometime.”

“Meanwhile, I have a job for you. A young man is blind and I am heavily in his debt. I want one of your dogs for him. A young one. I know you specialize in black bitches bred in your own kennels. She will need to be of the very best. Tell me what you require for the training. I remember you need many things and would like a comprehensive list.”

“As to the fee: name it and I will pay half as much again.”

“Also, rely on me for any support, moral or financial, now and in the future. Not only in this present matter but in any eventuality. If you do have needs, let me know them now. I suspect I may not have too long. That bloody bomb! But for the moment I am only a phone call away.”

“Your dear old friend…”

Slowly, thoughtfully, Garrison took back the letter.

They drank in silence for a while, until Garrison asked:

‘Why doesn’t Vicki have one of these dogs?’

‘Holzer’s techniques—his training methods—have only been perfected over the last six or seven years. Fraulein Maler had long since overcome her disability.’

‘Overcome blindness?’

‘She has grown accustomed. Also—let us be realistic—the Colonel’s interest in her is that of a friend. It is not the same interest he has in you.’

Suddenly there was an urgency in Garrison. He was like a man waking from a sort of trance or spell. Awareness came as a white flash bursting upon his consciousness. Time was passing. Vicki’s time. He got down clumsily from his stool, faced Koenig, searched for words to explain what he felt must look like an attack of blind panic.

Koenig understood and needed no words. It was as he had supposed: belief
was
spreading through Garrison’s system like wildfire.

‘Goodnight, Richard,’ said the bulky man behind the bar.

‘Yes. Goodnight,’ Garrison answered and left.

‘Richard,’ Vicki whispered in his ear as they lay in each other’s arms. ‘I’m frightened.’

‘Me too,’ he said.

‘I’m frightened because you were so gentle,’ she confessed. ‘I wonder if that means you know something?’

‘Everything except—’ he held her more tightly, fiercely, ‘—except the answers.’

‘For me the answer comes tomorrow,’ she said. ‘At first light.’

‘I know,’ said Garrison. ‘And I have my fingers crossed, just to be on the safe side.’
You are going to die!
said a voice in his mind.

‘Richard, you’re trembling!’

‘A cold coming on.’

‘Warm yourself in me.’

Don’t die, Vicki!
he silently cried.
I can make love to you, yes, but I daren’t fall in love with you. Not if you’re going to die.

‘The Little Death,’ she said, and felt the short hairs stiffen at the back of his neck.

‘What?’ His voice was a croak.

‘My, but you are getting a cold, aren’t you? You’ve gone quite feverish.’

‘What did you say just then?’

‘Oh, that. An old French saying, I think. They call love—specifically the moment you come—the Little Death. I want to feel you die a little in me.’

Her hand reached for him and he prayed for an erection. Amazingly, as she found him, he stirred into life. She let him grow, snuggled her head to his chest and kissed his left nipple. Then she curled her body in towards him and deftly fed him into her.

The Little Death…

In Schroeder’s room Mina asked, ‘Thomas, won’t you watch them tonight?’ Her hand wavered over the wall-screen’s switch.

‘No, leave them in peace. Tonight we concentrate on
my
satisfaction!’ he answered.

‘You think they would be a distraction rather than an inspiration?’

‘I thought I told you,’ he answered roughly. ‘I’m no voyeur. Also, they deserve some privacy.’

‘Privacy? Am I listening to Thomas Schroeder?’

‘What?’
He turned on her in anger. ‘Mina you… you take too much on yourself! Soon we must see about finding you a new employer.’

Her hand flew to her mouth. Tears stood in her eyes in a moment. Schroeder saw them and softened. ‘Mina, I’m tired, and when I’m tired I snap like a log on a fire. Also, I have only a little time left. Your love-making has been good for me, but I don’t want you around at my deathbed. That’s all I meant. You should not be working for a dying man. Tonight must be the last.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. Oh, don’t worry. I’ve made provision for you. You need only work if you wish It.’

She was angry with herself for all his reassurances. ‘My mouth always runs away with me. I had no desire to hurt or anger you.’

‘I know that. It was just your suggestion that we spy on Garrison, that’s all.’

‘Spy on him? But didn’t we watch them together last night, Thomas?’

‘That was last night,’ he snapped, the anger back in his voice.

She hung her head and tears fell on him. The sight of her nakedness, her bowed head and her tears worked on him. She saw it and sought him with her mouth.

‘Yes,’ he huskily approved, ‘tonight I can concentrate. But as for watching Garrison—I can do that no more. Why, one might just as well spy on oneself!’