Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 157

Huh?'

You know, I'm on the auditing committee for the state committee of my party. I looked up the name of his secretary where I thought I had seen it. It was there all right. His secretary, a chap by the name of Mathias, was down for a whopping big contribution to the governor's personal campaign fund.'

We did not have any more time to talk just then, as the cab had pulled up at my place. Dr Biddle was there before us and had already started his preparations.

He had set up a little crystal pavilion, about ten feet square, to work in. The entire lot was blocked off from spectators on the front by an impalpable screen.

Jedson warned me not to touch it.

I must say he worked without any of the usual hocus-pocus. He simply greeted us and entered the pavilion, where he sat down on a chair and took a loose-leaf notebook from a pocket and commenced to read. Jedson says he used several pieces of paraphernalia too. If so, I didn't see them. He worked with his clothes on.

Nothing happened for a few minutes. Gradually the walls of the shed became cloudy, so that everything inside was indistinct. It was about then that I became aware that there was something else in the pavilion besides Biddle. I could not see clearly what it was, and, to tell the truth, I didn't want to.

We could not hear anything that was said on the inside, but there was an argument going on - that was evident. Biddle stood up and began sawing the air with his hands. The thing threw back its head and laughed. At that Biddle threw a worried look in our direction and made a quick gesture with his right hand.

The walls of the pavilion became opaque at once and we didn't see any more.

About five minutes later Biddle walked out of his workroom, which promptly disappeared behind him. He was a sight -, his hair all mussed, sweat dripping from his face, and his collar wrinkled and limp. Worse than that, his aplomb was shaken.

Well?' said Jedson.

There is nothing to be done about it, Mr Jedson - nothing at all.'

Nothing you can do about it, eh?'

He stiffened a bit at this. Nothing anyone can do about it, gentlemen. Give it up. Forget about it. That is my advice.'

Jedson said nothing, just looked at him speculatively. I kept quiet. Biddle was beginning to regain his self-possession. He straightened his hat, adjusted his necktie, and added, I must return to my office. The survey fee will be five hundred dollars.

I was stonkered speechless at the barefaced gall of the man, but Jedson acted as if he hadn't understood him. No doubt it would be,' he observed. Too bad you didn't earn it. I'm sorry.

Biddle turned red, but preserved his urbanity. Apparently you misunderstand me, sir. Under the agreement I have signed with Mr Ditworth, thaumaturgists approved by the a.s.sociation are not permitted to offer free consultation. It lowers the standards of the profession. The fee I mentioned is the minimum fee for a magician of my cla.s.sification, irrespective of services rendered.'

I see,' Jedson answered calmly; that's what it costs to step inside your office.

But you didn't tell us that, so it doesn't apply. As for Mr Ditworth, an agreement you sign with him does not bind us in any way. I advise you to return to your office and reread our contract. We owe you nothing.'

I thought this time that Biddle would lose his temper, but all he answered was,

I shan't bandy words with you. You will hear from me later.' He vanished then without so much as a by-your-leave.

I heard a snicker behind me and whirled around, ready to bite somebody's head off. I had had an upsetting day and didn't like to be laughed at behind my back.

There was a young chap there, about my own age. Who are you, and what are you laughing at?' I snapped. This is private property.'

Sorry, bud,' he apologized with a disarming grin. I wasn't laughing at you; I was laughing at the stuffed shirt. Your friend ticked him off properly.'

What are you doing here?' asked Jedson.

Me? I guess I owe you an explanation. You see, I'm in the business myself-'

Building?'

No - magic. Here's my card.' He handed it to Jedson, who glanced at it and pa.s.sed it onto me. It read:

JACK BODIE.

LICENSED MAGICIAN, 1ST CLa.s.s.

TELEPHONE CREST 3840.

You see, I heard a rumour in the Half World that one of the big shots was going to do a hard one here today. I just stopped in to see the fun. But how did you happen to pick a false alarm like Biddle? He's not up to this sort of thing.'

Jedson reached over and took the card back. Where did you take your training, Mr

Bodie?'

Huh? I took my bachelor's degree at Harvard and finished up postgraduate at

Chicago. But that's not important; my old man taught me everything I know, but he insisted on my going to college because he said a magician can't get a decent job these days without a degree. He was right.'

Do you think you could handle this job?' I asked. Probably not, but I wouldn't have made the fool of myself that Biddle did. Look here - you want to find somebody who can do this job?'

Naturally,' I said. What do you think we're here for?'

Well, you've gone about it the wrong way. Biddle's got a reputation simply because he's studied at Heidelberg and Vienna. That doesn't mean a thing. I'll bet it never occurred to you to look up an old-style witch for the job.'

Jedson answered this one. That's not quite true. I inquired around among my friends in the business, but didn't find anyone who was willing to take it on.

But I'm willing to learn; whom do you suggest?'

Do you know Mrs Amanda Todd Jennings? Lives over in the old part of town, beyond the Congregational cemetery.'

Jennings ... Jennings. Hm-m-m - no, can't say that I do. Wait a minute! Is she the old girl they call Granny Jennings? Wears Queen Mary hats and does her own marketing?'

That's the one.'

But she's not a witch; she's a fortune-teller.'

That's what you think. She's not in regular commercial practice, it's true, being ninety years older than Santa Claus, and feeble to boot. But she's got more magic in her little finger than you'll find in Solomon's Book.'

Jedson looked at me. I nodded, and he said:

Do you think you could get her to attempt this case?'

Well, I think she might do it, if she liked you.'

What arrangement do you want?' I asked. Is ten per cent satisfactory?'