The demolished man (2 page)

hastily but without rancor. They were accustomed to his rages. Reich seated

himself behind his desk, trembling with a fury that was already goring

D'Courtney. Finally he muttered: "I'll give the bastard one more chance."

He unlocked his desk, opened the drawer-safe and withdrew the Executive's Code

Book, restricted to the executive heads of the firms listed quadruple A-1-* by

Lloyds. He found most of the material he required in the middle pages of the

book:

                       
QQBA ........ PARTNERSHIP

                       
RRCB ........ BOTH OUR

                       
SSDC ........ BOTH YOUR

                       
TTED ........ MERGER

                       
UUFE ........ INTERESTS

                       
VVGF ........ INFORMATION

                       
WWHG ........ ACCEPT OFFER

                       
XXJH ........ GENERALLY KNOWN

                       
YYJI ........ SUGGEST

                       
ZZXJ ........ CONFIDENTIAL

                       
AALK ........ EQUAL

                       
BBML ........ CONTRACT

Marking his place in the code book, Reich flipped the v-phone on and said to the

image of the interoffice operator: "Get me Code."

The screen dazzled and cut to a smokey room cluttered with books and coils of

tape. A bleached man in a faded shirt glanced at the screen, then leaped to

attention.

"Yes, Mr. Reich?"

"Morning, Hassop. You look like you need a vacation." Make your enemies by

choice. "Take a week at Spaceland. Monarch expense."

"Thank you, Mr. Reich. Thank you very much."

"This one's confidential. To Craye D'Courtney. Send..." Reich consulted the Code

Book. "Send YYJI TTED RRCB UUFE AALK QQBA. Get the answer to me like rockets.

Right?"

"Right, Mr. Reich. I'll jet."

Reich cut off the phone. He jabbed his hand once into the pile of papers and

crystals on his desk, picked up a crystal and dropped it into the play-back. His

chief secretary's voice said: "Monarch Gross off two points one one three four

per cent. D'Courtney Gross up two point one one three oh per cent..."

"God damn him!" Reich growled. "Out of my pocket into his." He snapped off the

play-back and arose in an agony of impatience. It would take hours for the reply

to come. His whole life hung on D'Courtney's reply. He left his office and began

to roam through the floors and departments of Monarch Tower, pretending the

remorseless personal supervision he usually exercised. His Esper secretary

unobtrusively accompanied him like a trained dog.

"Trained bitch!" Reich thought. Then aloud: "I'm sorry. Did you peep that?"

"Quite all right, Mr. Reich. I understand."

"Do you? I don't. Damn D'Courtney!"

In Personnel they were testing, checking, and screening the usual mass of job

applicants... clerks, craftsmen, specialists, middle bracket executives, top

echelon experts. All of the preliminary elimination was done with standardized

tests and interviews, and never to the satisfaction of Monarch's Esper Personnel

Chief who was stalking through the floor in an icy rage when Reich entered. The

fact that Reich's secretary had sent an advance telepathic announcement of the

visit made no difference to him.

"I have allotted ten minutes per applicant for my final screening interview,"

the Chief was snapping to an assistant. "Six per hour, forty-eight per day.

Unless my percentage of final rejections drops below thirty-five, I am wasting

my time; which means you are wasting Monarch's time. I am not employed by

Monarch to screen out the obviously unsuitable. That is your work. See to it."

He turned to Reich and nodded pedantically. "Good morning, Mr. Reich."

"Morning. Trouble?"

"Nothing that cannot be handled once this staff understands that Extra Sensory

Perception is not a miracle but a skill subject to wage-hour limitations. And

what is your decision on Blonn, Mr. Reich?"

Secretary: "He hasn't read your memo yet."

"May I point out, young woman, that unless I am used with maximum efficiency I

am wasted. The Blonn memo has been on Mr. Reich's desk for three days."

"Who the hell is Blonn?" Reich asked.

"First, the background, Mr. Reich: There are approximately one hundred thousand

(100,000) 3rd Class Espers in the Esper Guild. An Esper 3 can peep the conscious

level of a mind---can discover what a subject is thinking at the moment of

thought. A 3rd is the lowest class of telepath. Most of Monarch's security

positions are held by 3rds. We employ over five hundred..."

"He knows all this. Everybody does. Get to the point, long-wind!"

"Permit me, if I may, to arrive at the point in my own way. Next, there are

approximately ten thousand 2nd Class Espers in the Guild," the Personnel Chief

continued frostily. "They are experts like myself who can penetrate beneath the

conscious level of the mind to the preconscious. Most 2nds are in the

professional class... physicians, lawyers, engineers, educators, economists,

architects and so on."

"And you all cost a fortune," Reich growled.

"Why not? We have unique service to sell. Monarch appreciates the fact. Monarch

employs over one hundred 2nds at present."

"Will you get to the point?"

"Finally there are less than a thousand 1st Class Espers in the Guild. The 1sts

are capable of deep peeping, through the conscious and preconscious layers down

to the unconscious... the lowest levels of the mind. Primordial basic desires

and so forth. These, of course, hold premium positions. Education, specialized

medical service... analysts like Tate, Gart, @kins, Moselle... criminologists

like Lincoln Powell of the Psychotic Division... Political Analysts, State

Negotiators, Special Cabinet Advisors, and so on. Thus far Monarch Utilities has

never had occasion to hire a 1st."

"And?" Reich muttered.

"The occasion has arisen, Mr. Reich, and I believe Blonn may be available.

Briefly..."

"It says here."

"Briefly, Mr. Reich, Monarch is hiring so many Espers that I have suggested we

set up a special Esper Personnel Department, headed by a 1st like Blonn, to

devote itself exclusively to interviewing telepaths."

"He's wondering why you can't handle it."

"I have given you the background to explain why I cannot handle the job, Mr.

Reich. I am a 2nd Class Esper. I can telepath normal applicants rapidly and

efficiently, but I cannot handle other Espers with the same speed and economy.

All Espers are accustomed to using mind-blocks of varying effectiveness

depending on their rating. It would take me one hour per 3rd for an efficient

screening interview. It would take me three hours per 2nd. I could not possibly

peep through the mind-block of a 1st. We must hire a 1st like Blonn for this

work. The cost will be enormous, of course, but the necessity is urgent."

"What's so urgent?" Reich said.

"For heaven's sake! Don't give him that picture! That isn't diversion. It's

waving a red flag. He's sore enough now."

"I have my job to do, Madam." To Reich, the Chief said: "The fact is, sir, we

are not hiring the best Espers. The D'Courtney Cartel has been taking the cream

of the Espers away from us. Over and over again, through lack of proper

facilities, we have been mouse-trapped by D'Courtney into bidding for inferior

people while D'Courtney has quietly appropriated the best."

"Damn you!" Reich shouted. "Damn D'Courtney. All right. Set it up. And tell this

Blonn to start mouse-trapping D'Courtney. You'd better start, too."

Reich tore out of Personnel and over to Sales-city. The same unpleasant

information was waiting for him. Monarch Utilities & Resources was losing the

gut-fight with the D'Courtney Cartel. It was losing the fight in every

sector-city---Advertising, Engineering, Research, Public Relations. There was no

escaping the certainty of defeat. Reich knew his back was to the wall.

He returned to his own office and paced in a fury for five minutes. "It's no

use," he muttered. "I know I'll have to kill him. He won't accept merger. Why

should he? He's licked me and he knows it. I'll have to kill him and I'll need

help. Peeper help."

He flipped on the v-phone and told the operator; "Recreation."

A sparkling lounge appeared on the screen, decorated in chrome and enamel,

equipped with game tables and a bar dispenser. It appeared to be and was used as

a recreation center. It was, in fact, headquarters of Monarch's powerful

espionage division. The Recreation Director, a bearded scholar named West,

looked up from a chess problem, then rose to attention.

"Good morning, Mr. Reich."

Warned by the formal `Mister,' Reich said: "Good morning, Mr. West. Just a

routine check. Paternalism, you know. How's amusement these days?"

"Modulated, Mr. Reich. However, I must complain, sir. I think there's entirely

too much gambling going on." West stalled in a fussy voice until two bona fide

Monarch clerks innocently finished their drinks and departed. Then he relaxed

and slumped into his chair. "All clear, Ben. Shoot."

"Has Hassop broken the confidential code yet, Ellery?"

The peeper shook his head.

"Trying?"

West smiled and nodded.

"Where's D'Courtney?"

"En route to Terra, aboard the `Astra'."

"Know his plans? Where he'll be staying?"

"No. Want a check?"

"I don't know. It depends..."

"Depends on what?" West glanced at him curiously. "I wish the Telepathic Pattern

could be transmitted by phone, Ben. I'd like to know what you're thinking at."

Reich smiled grimly. "Thank God for the phone. At least we've got that

protection from mind readers. What's your attitude on crime, Ellery?"

"Typical."

"Of anybody?"

"Of the Guild. The Guild doesn't like it, Ben."

"So what's so hot about the Esper Guild? You know the value of money, success...

Why don't you clever-up? Why do you let the Guild do your thinking?"

"You don't understand. We're born in the Guild. We live with the Guild. We die

in the Guild. We have the right to elect Guild officers, and that's all. The

Guild runs our professional lives. It trains us, grades us, sets ethical

standards, and sees that we stick to them. It protects us by protecting the

layman, the same as medical associations. We have the equivalent of the

Hippocratic Oath. It's called the Esper Pledge. God help any of us if we break

it... as I judge you're suggesting I should."

"Maybe I am," Reich said intently. "Maybe I'm hinting it could be worth your

while to break the peeper pledge. Maybe I'm thinking in terms of money ... more

than you or any 2nd Class peeper ever sees in a lifetime."

"Forget it, Ben. Not interested."

"So you bust your pledge. What happens?"

"We're ostracized."

"That's all? Is that so awful? With a fortune in your pocket? Smart peepers have

broken with the Guild before. They've been ostracized. So what? Clever-up,

Ellery."

West smiled wryly: "You wouldn't understand, Ben."