The Right Time

by John Berryman

woman.But what is it good for?"

  I laughed at him. "What are most Psi powers good for?" I asked him."All that we require for membership is that a person be able todisplay them under standardized conditions."

  "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, I guess that's so. Well, I gather you'll beready to go into your act at the next Chapter Meeting, then?"

  Pheola nodded. "I hope so," she said.

  "I do, too," the old goat agreed, getting in the last word. "It wouldbe nice if you could figure out what to do with your ability to snapmy nerve-strings!"

  * * * * *

  We were silent in the ride down the elevator to our apartments. I tookthe chance that Pete wasn't having us peeped, and spoke as soon as wewere in my study.

  "What did you find out, Pheola?" I asked her.

  "I could feel something, Lefty," she said. "When you had the heartmodel over at the hospital, you showed me the coronary artery, youremember?"

  "Yes."

  "There are two little bumps in his artery, one about three times aslarge as the other."

  "Bumps?" I said, frowning. "I'm not sure I know what that means,Pheola."

  "Well, remember how I told you that your own arteries were nice andclear?"

  I nodded.

  "His coronary artery isn't like that. It's sort of caked and crusty.And I think some of that coating has broken away in a couple spots,and they are like scabs on the sores, only they aren't hard."

  This was as close to a classic description of coronary clotting as Ifigured I would get in nontechnical terms. What her words mean to mewas that Maragon's coronary artery, as in many men his age, wassomewhat choked with deposits of cholesterol. In a couple places thedeposit had broken away, exposing the raw surface of the artery. Butinstead of scar tissue forming to heal the open spot, clotting hadtaken place. And if either of those clots broke loose, and plugged oneof the minor arteries in the heart, we'd see a coronary attack as thatpart of the muscle was starved for blood and died.

  The information was useless, in a medical sense. There is no surgeryfor the condition. There was, however, something untried that couldpossibly be done.

  "Where is it going to happen?" I asked her. "The heart attack?"

  "In the hospital," she said.

  "And what will I have you do?"

  She frowned for a moment. "You want me to cure it," she said. "I'm notsure I understand how."

  "I do," I said. "That's enough. From here on I just want to work atwo-horse parlay. The old goat can't help but be convinced by thedemonstration you are going to give him. The thing that I want is forhim to agree that your PC powers exist at the same time. We'll whipsawhim good."

  * * * * *

  In the morning, after the first surgery was over, I went downstairs tothe heart clinic. Doc Swartz was in his office. He's the best heartman at Memorial, and I figured that Maragon would have gone to him.

  "What's up, Lefty?" he asked as I came in to his office and shut thedoor against some of the smells of the hospital. "How is your scalpelwork coming?"

  "I'll be doing my own cutting any day now," I said. "I came on anothererrand."

  "So?"

  "Did you give Maragon's heart a checkup in the last couple of weeks?"I asked.

  "None of your business," he smiled. "You know I can't talk about mypatients."

  "This is Lodge business, Doc," I protested. "I know you aren't a Psi,and thus aren't subject to our discipline, but I think it's time weexchanged some information."

  "Exchanged?"

  I nodded. "You know--or do you know--that I've been working with agirl, giving her some training."

  "No," he said. "I don't hear much about the Lodge. You folks arepretty tight-mouthed around Normals."

  "Sure," I said, not wanting to appear uncomfortable about it. Doc wasall right--he never showed any resentment that he didn't have Psipowers. Quite sensibly, he was satisfied with his own normal skills."Well, this girl is a very delicate telekinetic," I told him. "She isthe one who brought my right arm back to life. She's good."

  "She must be," he agreed. "I know that stumped every neurologist overhere."

  "Right," I said, "She has been exploring the insides of Maragon'sheart."

  "What!"

  "Sense of perception--light TK touch--anything you want to call it. Ican get her to demonstrate, if you insist. But you can take my wordfor it. She can feel her way around inside your body the way you canfeel your way around the outside."

  "And what is her diagnosis?" he said, irritated now. _He_ was theheart expert.

  I told him about the clots, and he nodded as he got the picture. "Aclassic description," he agreed. "But what can we do about it? Clotslike that are next to impossible to break down. If they flake away intoo big a chunk, they can kill."

  "I know," I agreed. "But there is more to the story. Pheola is aprecog as well. She says that one of the clots will break loose on thenineteenth, and that Maragon will have an attack. I want to make surehe is over here, in a hospital bed, with you on hand, when ithappens."

  "You Psi's!" he said. "Do I have to take this seriously, that thiswoman can tell the future?"

  "Yes, you do," I said. "One of our other PC's confirms it."

  "That just doubles the creepiness," he said. "How can I manage it,even if it's true?"

  "Tell the old goat that more detailed examination of his EKG makes youwant him in for observation. Even Maragon listens to doctors. Tell himwhatever it takes to get him to bed that morning. You might even bringhim in the night before."

  Doc Swartz shrugged. "I guess I'll have to play your game," hedecided. "But this had better be good!"

  * * * * *

  I never did learn what Doc Swartz told the Grand Master, or how muchthe old goat suspected. But I learned from my hospital sources thatMaragon was scheduled to enter the heart clinic the night of theeighteenth for "tests."

  I let Pheola set the timing for us, and we showed up at his roomaround ten on the morning of the nineteenth, shortly before Pheolapredicted his heart attack would occur.

  The old goat was sitting up in bed as he was being examined by DocSwartz and another sawbones. Leads from the EKG led from his chest andwrists. He fired one scorching glance at the two of us.

  "What is this?" he demanded. "Get out of here!"

  I shook my head. "Not me," I said. "I'm an accredited surgeon at thishospital."

  "What about her?" he growled, pushing Swartz away from him. "Get thatwitch out of here!"

  "A diagnosis is about to be made," I said, bringing Pheola to hisside. "And it would help if you shut up for a couple minutes."

  He turned angrily to Swartz, but I had him pretty well cowed, and heshook his head. "We could use some help, Mr. Maragon," he said. "Thereare some anomalies in your EKG that this lady's Psi powers may help usresolve. I should think that you, of all people, would want...."

  "Oh, shut up!" he grumped. "You are ganging up on me. Go ahead," hesnapped at Pheola. "And get it over with!"

  His gown had been pushed down from his shoulders for Doc Swartz'sstethoscope work, and the mat of graying hair on his chest wasexposed. Pheola laid a hand on his chest--she seemed to have a betterfeel after a touch, just as I do with the weights. There was a deadsilence in the room as she stood there, eyes closed, and slowly ranher fingers over his rib cage. After some minutes her eyes opened, andshe came back to my side.

  "Still the same," she said. I nodded and looked over at Swartz.

  "Well," Maragon growled, "have you ill-assorted characters agreed on adiagnosis?"

  "In a sense," I told him. "It's nothing that every doctor in this roomcouldn't have guessed at without bothering to examine you. You'resixty years old, and you've got sixty-year-old arteries. That's all."

  "Great," he said, reaching for the thin blanket that covered hischunky legs. "Then I can...."

  He stopped, and a spasm crossed his face.

  It went away, and he slowly turn
ed to face Pheola, a sort of angryconsternation coloring his features. "You witch!" he whispered. Thenthe pain hit him much harder. "My arm!" he said.

  There were doctors around him in a flash. He was still wired to theEKG machine. "That's it!" the technician said. "The T-waves have