*****
Catspaw
With the satisfaction of a successful talent scout, Doctor Samantha Ingram watched the entry of young Mister Platz into the college conference room, and nodded. Mid-twenties, good-looking, well-dressed, and with a cheerfully open expression, he made a good first impression. He wore horn rimmed glasses which stereotyped him desirably as studious; and this effect was balanced by the self-assurance with which he strode into the room and greeted the three professors who awaited him. He was obviously well-prepared and at ease.
Ingram herself was conscious of a mild touch of butterflies. Platz was her discovery. Although she had been careful to present him as a claimant on his own, not as her protégé, she still had a stake in his success; and she hated being put on the spot over anything. In her younger days she had tried to serve a Cause or two, but had quickly found she was too sensitive to be successful: she wilted under public scrutiny, let alone under heckling and scorn. Now she sought the appearance of just-competent mediocrity in her job, a threat to no one, and of interest to few.
The week before, she had seen an ad for Platz’s travelling mentalist act, and had attended the show out of curiosity. Favourably impressed by the young man’s performance, she had approached her senior colleague Jardine Merrivale, an ardent believer in ESP, and described what she had seen. S he had not needed to remind Merrivale about Glitzwell, the potential benefactor to the college currently looking for a spectacular project to fund; Merrivale had seen the possibilities in this field instantly.
As Platz crossed to them, Ingram covertly observed the reactions of her two fellow academics. Merrivale – broad of build and, in his own eyes, broad of mind, fiftyish, expansive in manner, opinionated, and always sure of himself –was preparing to take charge of the situation. His new hope for a short-cut to advancement rested on Platz’s success today. That would influence his judgement; but it would also rouse his fury if the results were disappointing, and his vengeance would be directed at her.
She cringed a little at the thought. He had worked to build up his influence at the college; and though she had tenure, he could make her life so uncomfortable that she might be tempted to give up her position. She had regretted, almost the instant she had spoken to Merrivale about Platz, the impulse that led her to mention him. But from that same instant, it had been too late to undo the action. Merrivale had plunged into the project with his usual drive, and would have carried on without her if she had withdrawn – and still blamed her if the whole thing fell through.
Wilbert M Trowe –He insisted on the initial –long in body but rather short in principles, was also her senior, though he was younger than her own thirty-three years. He was not quite as ambitious as Merrivale, but he was quick to see advantages for himself, and had easily outpaced her modest progress. He had no great stake in this matter, and he affected a cynical skepticism which might make his judgement more severe. On the other hand, his air of doubt was a pose, though he believed in it himself; he was actually rather suggestible, especially in a situation like this, where he was uncertain of his ground. That was probably why Merrivale had chosen him for this panel. He was, as usual, expressing his vaunted skepticism with a frown, though a thread of uncertainty made him run a hand in mild nervousness across his prematurely balding head.
“Good afternoon, Mister Platz,” boomed the senior professor. “I’m Doctor Merrivale; this is Doctor Trowe; and, of course, you know Doctor Ingram, whom we thank for organizing this little demonstration you’re going to give us. ” He gestured toward a conference table set at the front of the room.
Platz acknowledged the introductions smoothly and pleasantly, adding a few comments about the weather and the state of the traffic on his way to the college, working to relax any tensions or embarrassment his challengers might be feeling. Ingram recognized and admired his skill at it: he was an experienced showman, who could play his audience well.
She also recognized the feelings of the other two. Trowe’s self-deluding thought was certainly, You’re not going to put anything over on me, young man. Ingram knew Trowe prided himself on his ability to read both faces and body language; she also knew he had nowhere near the skill he thought he had. But that pride could easily prejudice him either way, depending on whether he happened to like the mentalist. She hoped Platz’s professional charm would be equal to the occasion.
Merrivale’s attitude was simpler and more direct. Already certain of the existence of ESP, he did not care whether Platz really had it or not, as long as the young man could supply good enough evidence for Merrivale to show to Glitzwell, to get the project started. Once it was under way, there would be plenty of genuine espers turned up by it. But woe betide anyone involved if his chance at the project were spoiled by a bad performance today!
Death and Taxes Page 6