The Psilent Partner Read online

investing he had taken somebad advice in the past year. And now he had to make some money fast inorder to catch up to the quota which was necessary if he were toachieve his goal.

  The Lawrence deal would give him his chance. But not if Standskillknew about it. The Lawrence deal seemed a good thing, but perhaps itwas only a _sure_ thing if he kept to himself, for the time being atleast.

  He was so tired.... _Fatigue._ The French for tired. Funny, he didremember some of the French from school. Standskill was in Paris.Association. _Fatigue._ The word stuck. That club--Bob Standskill'sfavorite--_Le Cheval Fatigue_ in Montmartre. The Tired Horse.Tired....

  Sleep closed in.... He drifted ... and came to with a sudden start asa hand roughly shook his shoulder. It seemed as though he had beenhovering mentally in a dimly-lighted cellar cafe, where there was ababel of voices speaking continental languages, and Standskill wasthere.

  But, _no!_ he couldn't have been in Paris any more than he had been onthe meteor-pounded wastes of the moon! It was ridiculous. As far as heknew, no psi had ever been known consciously to flit to the moon--orunconsciously, for that matter--or to the other side of an ocean!

  Standskill's partner, G. D. Rich, was shaking his shoulder. "What'sthe matter, Marty? Big night?"

  "Big day," Black said. "Why don't you fellows stick around and takecare of your business? I'm not even supposed to answer the telephone,you know, but someone has to!"

  "Can I help it that the Legal Secretaries Guild has called athree-day convention? There's not a secretary present in any lawoffice in New York right now! I personally cut the phone in to theanswering service before I left for court."

  "Inadvertence, I guess," Black said thoughtfully.

  "Inadvertence?" Rich said quickly.

  "Mine. I must have cut it back."

  He didn't tell Rich that he hadn't stirred from the desk since Richhad left. The switch was in the outer office. Had he with hisconsciousness floating high over New York sensed subconsciously thatLawrence was about to call and so cut in the switch? Had he built intohimself something of the pattern of his mother, something ofpre-vision or prescience, or call it what you will? Was a latent hunchpower coming out in him now, something that would manifest itself byacts not consciously controlled? He hoped not! Semantic instabilitywas bad enough!

  III

  Sleep evaded Martin Black again that night.... There was no doubt thatLawrence had a great idea.

  Lawrence held forty-five percent of the company's stock. He wantedcontrol. In fact, he wanted outright ownership, but this was notpossible because the other major stockholders, holding forty-fivepercent, seemed to be perfectly satisfied with their lucrativeinvestment. Cautious inquiries had failed to disclose any inclinationon their respective parts to sell.

  There were, however, enough independent shares outstanding to giveLawrence control if they were added to his own. The thing to do was tofigure a way to buy them. The problem was that no matter how secrethis operations, news or rumors of them would certainly leak out. Theshares would then undoubtedly jump to outrageous highs. Lawrencecouldn't risk that. He'd not be able to buy sufficient shares if theprice rose.

  His corporation had completed Quijotoa City and had built Mojave Cityand Sanup Plateau City, had through applied atomics created verdantand lovely places out of wasteland and desert. It still owned theatomic piles that provided power for the cities and the profitstherefrom were enormous.

  Lawrence was progressive. He was at heart a humanitarian. He wanted todevelop other areas more from the humanitarian view than the profitmotive. He had learned long ago that the profits would take care ofthemselves.

  In probing the man's mind, Black sensed Lawrence's great desire foradulation, his great desire to be remembered as a public benefactor.

  Now if only he, Martin J. Black, could benefit financially from thisnew deal--if he could corner enough of those independent shares, hecould and certainly would vote them Lawrence's way. Then, perhaps thepossibility of making the thirty percent he needed would approachprobability, would reach it. With Lawrence's Midas touch thecorporation would also realize millions in profits if the deal wentthrough.

  Figures revolved in Black's mind. If Lawrence--or if he--could cornersix percent of the stock.... Could some of the independents bepersuaded to sell, _psionically persuaded_? Or one of the other majorstockholders? No, that would be unethical and the strongest part of apsi's training was a fine code of ethics.

  Black began to doze--and felt something ever so softly probing at hismind. _A probe!_ Probably a service psi checking on him. _Why?_ Justthe usual check? No, it wasn't due.

  He knew what to do. He had been probed before. Probing was part of thetraining at psi school but he had never revealed--and his tutors hadnever guessed--that he could create a block that could not be sensedby the prober. A block which could close off whatever thoughts hewished to conceal.

  He blocked his thoughts of Lawrence and the deal now, and openedfreely that part of his mind which held the routine thoughts of thelaw offices. He felt that feather of thought brushing lightly throughhis brain, then it was gone as quickly as it had come.

  There was a cold sweat over him but he knew that he had passed thetest. Why the probe? Perhaps a BEB psi had wind of Lawrence's deal andby probing Lawrence's mind--or the mind of someone in the West Coastrealty outfit--had somehow learned of Black's association with theindustrialist. If that were the case there would be more probes. Onetime or another a probe might come at a moment of nervous tension orstress and the information would be gleaned from his mind before hecould block!

  He must work fast.

  He arose and went to the visiphone, placed a person-to-person call toLos Angeles.

  "Dick Joyce?" he asked before the visual contact was complete, andonly his voice went out.

  The face that came in sync on the screen was round, jovial. "Well,hello, Marty!"

  _Lawrence must have called him, or else he plucked the name from mymind. But he didn't probe--or did he?_

  "Dick, do you register?" _With the mind now--cautiously!_

  "Yes, Marty."

  _Pretend you're my personal friend, Dick. There's no psi on us but wemay be wiretapped by BEB--lots of law offices are and traineesconnected with them. Can a definite date be set for the picking-up ofthe options?_

  "It's good to see you again, Marty! When will you be coming out foranother visit?" _Yes, the options are in the bag. My agents have themall lined up. Confidentially, they couldn't miss. The only troublethey ran into was that some of the landowners thought they were insaneto be interested in the property and one of them actually suffered asprained wrist from the hand-shaking of an overly thankful owner._

  "Soon. That's why I called you. Thought we should get together afterall these years." _What's the latest date for signing?_

  _Tomorrow night._

  _Tomorrow night! That doesn't give much time! Since I'm acting forLawrence I have to see what we're getting._

  _Well, Lawrence told us to work fast. But I agree that it's a goodidea that you see the properties._ "How about this weekend?" His voicewas casual.

  _Tomorrow evening local time it is then. But where will we makepsi-contact?_

  A mental picture of a map. Desolation.... Oklahoma....

  "Okay, Dick. See you then. Regards to the family!"

  "Goodbye, Marty."

  He rang off.

  He was tired. He went to bed and sought sleep, praying that the blockhis fatigued mind had set would remain firm.

  IV

  Martin Black passed a very bad night. Maintaining a mental block whenasleep is a major feat, especially when one has semantic instabilityand a dream can so often be so realistic as to bring one'sconsciousness awake and mentally screaming miles from the physicalbeing it has involuntarily left.

  He dreamed with incredible regularity, waking five times out ofnightmares, five times strangely on the hour as though he had tiedsome part of his mental being to the irresistibly moving, luminescentminute hand of his elec
tric clock. _Time is of the essence_, he hadtold himself during the psi-visiphone contact with Joyce._Association!_

  Two A.M. He had dreamt of Joyce, dreamt that Joyce had somehowrevealed the proposed transaction to BEB, putting Dodson on his trail.Wide awake now, he forced himself to think of the options which mustbe picked up the following night, options drawn so that not only thelandowners must sign them but both the realty outfit and he, asLawrence's attorney-in-fact, as well. Could he sign for Lawrence ifJoyce had spilled?... No, it was only a dream. Joyce was so _very_stable!

  Three A.M. He had dreamt of Standskill, tall, lean Standskill stridingthrough the lovely early morning along the Champs Elysees, movingpurposefully. He had even dreamt he had for a moment invadedStandskill's mind and caught the lawyer's pounding thought, "Lawrence!_Buy_, Lawrence!" Oh, but that would never