Sentiment Inc., Page 2

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  Juan Martinez had come from Puerto Rico as a boy and made his own wayever since. Fraser had gotten to know him in the army, and they had seeneach other from time to time since then. Martinez had gone into theprivate-eye business and made a good thing of it; Fraser had to get pasta very neat-looking receptionist to see him.

  "Hi, Colin," said Martinez, shaking hands. He was a small, dark man,with a large nose and beady black eyes that made him resemble asympathetic mouse. "You look like the very devil."

  "I feel that way, too," said Fraser, collapsing into a chair. "You can'tgo on a three-day drunk without showing it."

  "Well, what's the trouble? Cigarette?" Martinez held out a pack."Girl-friend give you the air?"

  "As a matter of fact, yes; that's what I want to see you about."

  "This isn't a lonely-hearts club," said Martinez. "And I've told youtime and again a private dick isn't a wisecracking superman. Our work isninety-nine percent routine; and for the other one percent, we call inthe police."

  "Let me give you the story," said Fraser. He rubbed his eyes wearily ashe told it. At the end, he sat staring at the floor.

  "Well," said Martinez, "it's too bad and all that. But what the hell,there are other dames. New York has more beautiful women per square inchthan any other city except Paris. Latch on to somebody else. Or if youwant, I can give you a phone number--"

  "You don't understand," said Fraser "I want you to investigate this; Iwant to know why she did it."

  Martinez squinted through a haze of smoke. "Snyder's a rich and powerfulman," he said. "Isn't that enough?"

  "No," said Fraser, too tired to be angry at the hint. "Judy isn't thatkind of a girl. Neither is she the kind to go overboard in a few days,especially when I was there. Sure, that sounds conceited, but dammit, I_know_ she cared for me."

  "Okay. You suspect pressure was brought to bear?"

  "Yeah. It's hard to imagine what. I called up Judy's family in Maine,and they said they were all right, no worries. Nor do I think anythingin her own life would give a blackmailer or an extortionist anything togo on. Still--I want to know."

  Martinez drummed the desk-top with nervous fingers. "I'll look into itif you insist," he said, "though it'll cost you a pretty penny. Richmen's lives aren't easy to pry into if they've got something they wantto hide. But I don't think we'd find out much; your case seems to beonly one of a rash of similar ones in the past year."

  "Huh?" Fraser looked sharply up.

  "Yeah. I follow all the news; and remember the odd facts. There've beena good dozen cases recently, where beautiful young women suddenlymarried rich men or became their mistresses. It doesn't all get into thepapers, but I've got my contacts. I know. In every instance, there wasno obvious reason; in fact, the dames seemed very much in love withdaddy."

  "And the era of the gold-digger is pretty well gone--" Fraser satstaring out the window. It didn't seem right that the sky should be sofull of sunshine.

  "Well," said Martinez, "you don't need me. You need a psychologist."

  _Psychologist!_

  "By God, Juan, I'm going to give you a job anyway!" Fraser leaped to hisfeet. "You're going to check into an outfit called Sentiment, Inc."

  * * * * *

  A week later, Martinez said, "Yeah, we found it easily enough. It's notin the phone-book, but they've got a big suite right in the high-rentdistrict on Fifth. The address is here, in my written report. Nobody inthe building knows much about 'em, except that they're a quiet,well-behaved bunch and call themselves research psychologists. They havea staff of four: a secretary-receptionist; a full-time secretary; and acouple of husky boys who may be bodyguards for the boss. That's thisKennedy, Robert Kennedy. My man couldn't get into his office; the girlsaid he was too busy and never saw anybody except some regular clients.Nor could he date either of the girls, but he did investigate them.

  "The receptionist is just a working girl for routine stuff, married,hardly knows or cares what's going on. The steno is unmarried, has adegree in psych, lives alone, and seems to have no friends except herboss. Who's not her lover, by the way."

  "Well, how about Kennedy himself?" asked Fraser.

  "I've found out a good bit, but it's all legitimate," said Martinez."He's about fifty years old, a widower, very steady private life. He's alicensed psychiatrist who used to practice in Chicago, where he also didresearch in collaboration with a physicist named Gavotti, who's sincedied. Shortly after that happened--

  "No, there's no suspicion of foul play; the physicist was an old man anddied of a heart attack. Anyway, Kennedy moved to New York. He stillpractices, officially, but he doesn't take just anybody; claims that hisresearch only leaves him time for a few." Martinez narrowed his eyes."The only thing you could hold against him is that he occasionally seesa guy named Bryce, who's in a firm that has some dealings with Amtorg."

  "The Russian trading corporation? Hm."

  "Oh, that's pretty remote guilt by association, Colin. Amtorg does havelegitimate business, you know. We buy manganese from them, among otherthings. And the rest of Kennedy's connections are all strictly blueribbon. _Creme de la creme_--business, finance, politics, and one bigunion-leader who's known to be a conservative. In fact, Kennedy'sfriends are so powerful you'd have real trouble doing anything againsthim."

  Fraser slumped in his chair. "I suppose my notion was pretty wild," headmitted.

  "Well, there is one queer angle. You know these rich guys who'vesuddenly made out with such highly desirable dames? As far as I couldfind out, every one of them is a client of Kennedy's."

  "Eh?" Fraser jerked erect.

  "'S a fact. Also, my man showed the building staff, elevator pilots andso on, pictures of these women, and a couple of 'em were remembered ashaving come to see Kennedy."

  "Shortly before they--fell in love?"

  "Well, that I can't be sure of. You know how people are aboutremembering dates. But it's possible."

  Fraser shook his dark head. "It's unbelievable," he said. "I thoughtSvengali was outworn melodrama."

  "I know something about hypnotism, Colin. It won't do anything like whatyou think happened to those girls."

  Fraser got out his pipe and fumbled tobacco into it. "I think," he said,"I'm going to call on Dr. Robert Kennedy myself."

  "Take it easy, boy," said Martinez. "You been reading too many weirdstories; you'll just get tossed out on your can."

  Fraser tried to smile. It was hard--Judy wouldn't answer his calls andletters any more. "Well," he said, "it'll be in a worthy cause."

  * * * * *

  The elevator let him out on the nineteenth floor. It held four bigsuites, with the corridor running between them. He studied thefrosted-glass doors. On one side was the Eagle Publishing Company andFrank & Dayles, Brokers. On the other was the Messenger AdvertisingService, and Sentiment, Inc. He entered their door and stood in a quiet,oak-paneled reception room. Behind the railing were a couple of desks, ayoung woman working at each, and two burly men who sat boredly readingmagazines.

  The pretty girl, obviously the receptionist, looked up as Fraserapproached and gave him a professional smile. "Yes, sir?" she asked.

  "I'd like to see Dr. Kennedy, please," he said, trying hard to becasual.

  "Do you have an appointment, sir?"

  "No, but it's urgent."

  "I'm sorry, sir; Dr. Kennedy is very busy. He can't see anybody excepthis regular patients and research subjects."

  "Look, take him in this note, will you? Thanks."

  Fraser sat uneasily for some minutes, wondering if he'd worded the notecorrectly. _I must see you about Miss Judy Harkness._ _Important._ Well,what the devil else could you say?

  The receptionist came out again. "Dr. Kennedy can spare you a fewminutes, sir," she said. "Go right on in."

  "Thanks." Fraser slouched toward the inner door. The two men loweredtheir magazines to follow him with watchful eyes.

  There was a big, handso
mely-furnished office inside, with a door beyondthat must lead to the laboratory. Kennedy looked up from some papers androse, holding out his hand. He was a medium-sized man, rather plump,graying hair brushed thickly back from a broad, heavy face behindrimless glasses. "Yes?" His voice was low and pleasant. "What can I dofor you?"

  "My name's Fraser." The visitor sat down and accepted a cigarette. Bestto act urbanely. "I know Miss Harkness well. I understand you made someencephalographic studies of her."

  "Indeed?" Kennedy looked annoyed, and Fraser recalled that Judy had beenasked not to tell anyone. "I'm not sure; I would have to consult myrecords first." He wasn't admitting anything, thought Fraser.

  "Look," said the engineer, "there's been a marked change in MissHarkness recently. I know enough psychology to be certain that suchchanges don't happen overnight without cause. I wanted to consult you."

  "I'm not her psychiatrist," said Kennedy coldly. "Now if you will excuseme, I really have a lot to do--"

  "All right," said Fraser. There was no menace in his tones, only aweariness. "If you insist, I'll play it dirty. Such abrupt changesindicate mental instability. But I know she was perfectly sane before.It begins to look as if your experiments may have--injured her mind. Ifso, I should have to report you for malpractice."

  Kennedy flushed. "I am a licensed psychiatrist," he said, "and any otherdoctor will confirm that Miss Harkness is still in mental health. If youtried to get an investigation started, you would only be wasting yourown time and that of the authorities. She herself will testify that noharm was done to her; no compulsion applied; and that you are aninfernal busybody with some delusions of your own. Good afternoon."

  "Ah," said Fraser, "so she _was_ here."

  Kennedy pushed a button. His men entered. "Show this gentleman the wayout, please," he said.

  Fraser debated whether to put up a fight, decided it was futile, andwent out between the two others. When he got to the street, he found hewas shaking, and badly in need of a drink.

  * * * * *

  Fraser asked, "Jim, did you ever read _Trilby_?"

  Sworsky's round, freckled face lifted to regard him. "Years ago," heanswered. "What of it?"

  "Tell me something. Is it possible--even theoretically possible--to dowhat Svengali did? Change emotional attitudes, just like that." Frasersnapped his fingers.

  "I don't know," said Sworsky. "Nuclear cross-sections are more in myline. But offhand, I should imagine it might be done ... sometime in thefar future. Thought-habits, associational-patterns, the labeling of thisas good and that as bad, seem to be matters of established neural paths.If you could selectively alter the polarization of individualneurones--But it's a pretty remote prospect; we hardly know a thingabout the brain today."

  He studied his friend sympathetically. "I know it's tough to getjilted," he said, "but don't go off your trolley about it."

  "I could stand it if someone else had gotten her in the usual kind ofway," said Fraser thinly. "But this--Look, let me tell you all I'vefound out."

  Sworsky shook his head at the end of the story. "That's a mighty wildspeculation," he murmured. "I'd forget it if I were you."

  "Did you know Kennedy's old partner? Gavotti, at Chicago."

  "Sure, I met him a few times. Nice old guy, very unworldly, completelywrapped up in his work. He got interested in neurology from the physicsangle toward the end of his life, and contributed a lot to cybernetics.What of it?"

  "I don't know," said Fraser; "I just don't know. But do me a favor, willyou, Jim? Judy won't see me at all, but she knows you and likes you. Askher to dinner or something. Insist that she come. Then you and your wifefind out--whatever you can. Just exactly how she feels about the wholebusiness. What her attitudes are toward everything."

  "The name is Sworsky, not Holmes. But sure, I'll do what I can, ifyou'll promise to try and get rid of this fixation. You ought to see ahead-shrinker yourself, you know."

  _In vino veritas_--sometimes too damn much _veritas_.

  * * * * *

  Toward the end of the evening, Judy was talking freely, if not quitecoherently. "I cared a lot for Colin," she said. "It was prettywonderful having him around. He's a grand guy. Only Matt--I don't know.Matt hasn't got half of what Colin has; Matt's a single-track mind. I'mafraid I'm just going to be an ornamental convenience to him. Only ifyou've ever been so you got all dizzy when someone was around, andthought about him all the time he was away--well, that's how he is.Nothing else matters."

  "Colin's gotten a funny obsession," said Sworsky cautiously. "He thinksKennedy hypnotized you for Snyder. I keep telling him it's impossible,but he can't get over the idea."

  "Oh, no, no, no," she said with too much fervor. "It's nothing likethat. I'll tell you just what happened. We had those two measuringsessions; it was kind of dull but nothing else. And then the third timeKennedy did put me under hypnosis--he called it that, at least. I wentto sleep and woke up about an hour later and he sent me home. I felt allgood inside, happy, and shlo--slowly I began to see what Matt meant tome.

  "I called him up that evening. He said Kennedy's machine _did_ speed uppeople's minds for a short while, sometimes, so they decided quick-likewhat they'd've worked out anyway. Kennedy is--I don't know. It's funnyhow ordinary he seemed at first. But when you get to know him, he'slike--God, almost. He's strong and wise and good. He--" Her voicetrailed off and she sat looking foolishly at her glass.

  "You know," said Sworsky, "perhaps Colin is right after all."

  "Don't say that!" She jumped up and slapped his face. "Kennedy's _good_,I tell you! All you little lice sitting here making sly remarks behindhis back, and he's so, much bigger than all of you and--" She broke intotears and stormed out of the apartment.

  Sworsky reported the affair to Fraser. "I wonder," he said. "It doesn'tseem natural, I'll agree. But what can anybody do? The police?"

  "I've tried," said Fraser dully. "They laughed. When I insisted, I damnnear got myself jugged. That's no use. The trouble is, none of thepeople who've been under the machine will testify against Kennedy. Hefixes it so they worship him."

  "I still think you're crazy. There _must_ be a simpler hypothesis; Irefuse to believe your screwy notions without some real evidence. Butwhat are you going to do now?"

  "Well," said Fraser with a tautness in his voice, "I've got severalthousand dollars saved up, and Juan Martinez will help. Ever hear thefable about the lion? He licked hell out of the bear and the tiger andthe rhinoceros, but a little gnat finally drove him nuts. Maybe I can bethe gnat." He shook his head. "But I'll have to hurry. The wedding'sonly six weeks off."