of your existence, amusement. Your sole purpose in living is to justify and pay for amusement, as you call it. In other words, you have the philosophy of a garage mechanic.”
“That would pretty accurately describe my income and status, too.”
“You’re dissatisfied?”
“What a marvelous analysis,” I said.
“But when you think of where you were just seven months ago—”
“I’d rather think about the big promises you made to me. Fame, fortune, anything I wanted. You remember?”
“Yes. Those things will come, if you desire them. Although I had hoped that through your study, you might have developed a genuine interest in metaphysics. Then you and I could have gone on to the next phase together. But I misjudged you, I see. You want, as you term it, amusement.”
“Let’s just call it more money and be done with it. You’ll never get to me with any nonsense about ‘spiritual riches,’ if that’s what you had in mind.”
“I’ve trained you too well, I see. You’re always sure of an ulterior motive, aren’t you?”
I sighed. “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” I told him. “Except this.”
I reached for the bottle and he took it away.
“That’s out.”
“Look, now—”
“Would a guarantee of five hundred a week help to keep you on the wagon?”
“Yes, but—we’re not doing that well.”
“What about your friend Mr. Caldwell? He’ll be ready for the next move, soon.”
I straightened up. “That’s right. And I wanted to talk to you about that. You know, I’m really helping him.”
“Of course you are.”
“He wants to sell his stock. That will bring in about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Excellent. We have uses for that amount.”
“He plans to invest in real estate.”
“Good. Let him plan. His plans will soon change.”
“Look, now, Professor. I’ve got another angle. Maybe we won’t have to touch him at all.”
“What’s that?”
I talked fast, and as I talked it made sense. “Why not let him take his money and go? He’s a new man, he deserves a new start. We don’t need his savings. Not with my angle, not with what I know.”
“I’m listening,” said the Professor.
So I told him what Caldwell had said about his company, about what would happen if he dumped his stock and Imperial took over.
“Do you understand now?” I asked. “I’ll get him to sell his stock. His broker is—”
“I know,” said the Professor. Of course he
“Anyhow, the minute he sells, that’s your cue. Get all the cash you can lay your hands on and buy Imperial. They’ll take over and their stock will rise, probably split and rise again. Why, you can make as much or more than you would from Caldwell, and do it legitimately—no danger of a kickback or trouble. Caldwell’s happy and you’re happy. Could there be any better deal?”
“It’s worth considering.” The Professor rose. “I’ll think about it and let you know. Meanwhile, keep Caldwell dangling a few days more.”
I faced him. “This is important,” I said. “I’d like to see things work out without Caldwell getting hurt.”
“I’ll worry about that angle.”
“But he’s going into real estate,” I continued. “And he’ll cut me in. We can make still more if we let him lead us to profitable deals—”
“I told you I’d decide.” The Professor smiled. “But that isn’t the big thing, right now. I came to tell you you’re going on the air.”
“Radio?”
“Fifteen minutes, twice a week. To sell the book, sell your name. I’m having Rogers check on time and costs. Then we might consider an expansion program—train a few assistants for you and sell consultation over the air. How does that sound to you? Five hundred a week and your own radio show—is it a bargain?”
I hesitated.
“Remember, you handle your affairs, and I’ll make the decisions. About Caldwell and all the others. Agreed?”
I took a deep breath because there was nothing else to do. I said, “Yes,” because there was nothing else to say.
The Professor nodded. He didn’t shake hands. He never shook hands. Somehow, that suited me. He had hands like fat, blind white spiders...
“I’ll say goodnight,” he told me. “I’ve got another appointment this evening. Get in touch with me tomorrow and I’ll let you know about Caldwell.”
He left us alone, then, and there we sat: the bottle and I. I looked at it.
“Did you hear what he said?” I asked. “Five hundred a week. And I’m going on the radio! That’s a laugh. I came out here to go on the air, but Rickert said I wasn’t good enough. And now—”
The bottle didn’t answer me.
Two days later, Caldwell sold his stock.
The evening after the sale, I went into a little bar off the Strip to meet the Professor. I slid into a booth and ordered club soda, straight.
Then I waited. Waited and worried. The Professor was late. Probably cooking up something for Caldwell— cooking up a scheme with Doc Sylvestro, Jake, and Rogers. Hush-hush stuff.
Everything the Professor did was hush stuff. I began to wonder about that.
Professor Hermann was a type. A West Coast type. More specifically, a Southern California type. He wouldn’t flourish in another climate.
But this was a land of Messiahs and miracles, of Peter the Hermit and Isaiah the Evangelist; a land where red flowers and green skyscrapers sprang up overnight. A land of fabulous fertility, luxuriant lushness.
The rod smote the rock and gold gushed forth in ’49. The rod waved as a magic wand and lo, there was Hollywood. The rod smote the rock again, and oil spewed fortunes to the skies. The rod pointed and there was real estate, and aircraft factories, and an entire civilization that bought cars from Madman Harry, cracked up, and was buried at Forest Lawn. At night, the flying red horse heralded the Apocalypse in advertising from a dirigible. The searchlights stabbed at heaven to proclaim the presence of a new fruit stand.
No wonder the Professor was accepted here! Even I had accepted him, done his bidding. And now, my life was in his hands.
Yet I knew surprisingly little about him. A little fat bald-headed German refugee who wore black in a land of light, a man who climbed the rungs to money and power, who delighted in dominating. Maybe I’d better use the Judson Roberts technique and analyze him. “It’s a hard job,” I told the bottle. “A hard job, trying to psychoanalyze the Devil.”
“What you need is a drink,” the bottle said.
I blinked, then realized the words hadn’t come from the bottle. They were spoken by Ellen Post.
She had just come in, and she stood opposite me, at the bar. I looked at her a long time, because I wanted to look at her more than anything in the world. I studied her oval face. That exotic effect was caused by a double- fold of the upper eyelids. A simple explanation made by the practiced observation of Judson Roberts, but it didn’t keep Eddie Haines from admiring her features.
Right now I felt more like Eddie Haines than I had in a long, long time.
“Your order?”
I looked at the waiter. I looked at her. Then, “Two apricot brandies.”
She slid into the booth across from me and she smiled. Judson Roberts could have analyzed that smile before
