To Ride Pegasus

“Those who need it. And we’d appreciate a kindly word for the Center when Steve diverts that bullet.”

Lawson nodded agreement. “Those who need protection? Or those whom you need, Darrow? No, don’t answer that one. Answer this…will I win this election?”

Henry smiled slowly. “You know the answer to that one, Governor, but the fun lies in making certain you’ve played the game right.”

“How far do you guys play fun and games?”

“Just far enough!”

“Now, Mr. Rambley, what seems to be your problem?”

“Not my problem, Mr. Darrow. Yours!” The Internal Revenue Department man smiled a thin smug smile and began to pull IBM cards from his neat fake-pig case.

“Really?”

“We have here WT forms from the Department of Law Enforcement and Order, from Johns Hopkins, Bethel General, Midtown, from Dupont, Merck Pharmaceuticals…need I go on?”

“Just as you please.”

“These salary chits represent the earnings of Barbara Holland, Titter Beyley,

Charity McGillicuddy, Gil Gracie, Frank Negelsco, Augustus Molnar…” Again the IRD representative regarded Henry Darrow with a cute expression on his fleshless face. “I could continue…”

“Just as you please. I give every government official the courtesy due his office.” Henry inclined his head towards Mr. Rambley who, for the first time since he’d minced into Henry’s tiny lair, looked nonplussed. “After all, some of my best people are employed by the government.”

With an irritated sigh, Rambley closed the stack of cards and tapped them in an admonitory fashion on the desk.

“Come now, Mr. Darrow. These people,” and he brandished the cards, “earn tremendous salaries and yet there is no record of a single tax deduction, no returns…”

“They donate their salaries in toto to the Parapsychic Center. They lease their services contractually to the various employers. The Parapsychic Center files a corporate form to cover them. Under Corporation Law…”

“No one in their right minds would…” Rambley bounced on the end of his chair with indignation and disbelief.

“I never said any of the parapsychic Talents were in a right mind. In fact,”

Henry went on with gentle amusement, “there is every reason to believe that the core of the parapsychic is, if anywhere, in the left hand part of the brain.”

“Mr. Darrow,” Mr. Rambley was on his feet. “You did say that you gave government officials the courtesy due their office?”

“Yes, didn’t I? Consequently, you’re wasting time, your government’s and mine,

Mr. Rambley. The individuals represented by those neatly slotted cards do donate their total income to the Parapsychic Center. Our accountant will be glad to show you the appropriate records and contractual agreements…”

“But…but I know that that Titter Beyley creature is driving a four passenger 350 horsepower vehicle!” Such an incongruity shocked Mr. Rambley.

“Yes, Titter’s always wanted to drive a big one. The car belongs to the Center.

You can check the registration papers.”

“And that…that Charity McGillicuddy has a blue ranch mink coat.”

“Indeed she has. She requisitioned it from Stores about four months ago.”

“She requisitioned…from Stores?”

“She has a position to maintain now and her appearance is of great concern to the LEO office. Think how embarrassing it would be for someone employed by the

LEO Commission to be arrested for wearing stolen furs. Of course, Charity says that now she can buy ‘em instead of ‘lifting’ ‘em, half the fun’s gone. But it gives her a great moral boost to wear blue ranch mink in the LEO Block. We try to keep our workers happy.”

Rambley had stared at Henry Darrow through this ingenuous explanation but his indignation rose with every gently spoken word.

“This won’t be the last you’ll hear from me, Mr. Darrow. You do not mock the Internal Revenue Department, Mr. Darrow.” He slammed the file cards into his case, hands trembling with outraged dignity. “You’ll hear from us.”

“That’s fine by me. Just call ahead for an appointment. Only consider the fact that Senators Maxwell, Abrahams, Montello and Gratz approved our corporate structure.”

Rambley’s eyes widened.

“And the presidential advisor, Mr. Killiney, acted as our financial assistant.

Don’t you have his card in that file?”

Rambley exited, reduced to mutterings.

“Do you often trick your way into a private home, Mr. Darrow?”

“When I’ve been unable to secure an appointment any other way, yes, Mr. Henner.”

Henry smiled pleasantly, trying not to glance with obvious envy at the spaciousness of the magnificently furnished living room. Such accommodation was almost archaic.

George Henner appeared more amused than irritated by Henry Darrow’s impertinence as he leaned back in his Italian brocade armchair.

“If it’s money for your palm-reading, table-tilting crystal-gazing tricks, forget it.”

“On the contrary, sir. I’ve affirmation that I can ask you to join our happy band.” Henry smiled at the surprise in Henner’s yellowed eyes.