Your Eyelids Are Growing Heavy (24 page)

Gus shrugged, nodded.

“Option number one. We send Sperling a copy of the tape, let him know we're on to him. We
say
we're going to turn it over to the police—unless he agrees to certain terms.”

“Wouldn't work,” Payton said. “He'd know we couldn't use the tape without incriminating Ms Phillips and her friends.”

“But he wouldn't know we were unwilling to incriminate them,” Ziegler said smoothly. “We could make it clear that we'd send them to jail if that's what it took to nail Dillon Laboratories—”

“Why do I suddenly feel uneasy?” Gus blurted out.

Ziegler shot him a quick, practiced smile that did nothing to reassure him. “Don't worry, Bilinski, we have no intention of letting you go to jail. But Sperling doesn't have to know that. He—”

“Hold it,” Snooks interrupted. “No private deal. I can't agree to that. I don't know what you have in mind, Mr. Ziegler—taking over Dillon Laboratories, perhaps? Okay, that's fine by me. But there's only one thing I want out of this, and that's to see Harrison Algren discredited publicly. I don't particularly have any strong yearning to see him behind bars—”

“I do,” Megan muttered.

“—but I want to make sure that man is never again in a position to do to someone what he did to Megan. That means I want the full machinery of the law set in operation against him. You can't have that and a private deal too. You want to get Sperling, I want to get Algren. We
are
going to have to bring the police in.”

“Hey, Snooks,” said Gus, surprised. “What made you change your mind?”

“I didn't want the police brought in until we got Megan deprogrammed,” Snooks explained. “They might have provoked Algren into doing something drastic to her. But now it's a different story. Megan's free of Algren—so let's put him away.”

“Dr. Snooks,” Mr. Ziegler said with a great show of patience, “in the first place, there's no way we can take over Dillon Laboratories just by applying pressure to Lloyd Sperling. He's the executive vice president, not the sole owner of the firm. All I had in mind was reaching a working agreement that would be of benefit to Glickman.”

“Blackmail,” Snooks said.

Ziegler didn't bat an eye. “In the second place, how can you bring in the police without getting yourself into trouble? That tape was obtained illegally—”

“I didn't mean give them the tape. I meant find some other way of getting the police involved.”

“How?”

“I don't know—I was hoping you'd have some ideas. But any private arrangement you'd make with Sperling and Dillon would let Algren go free, and that just won't do.”

“I understand your concern, but—”

“I'm not sure you do, Mr. Ziegler. Sperling's the instigator, but none of this could have happened without the services of a skilled hypnotist. If Algren could be bought once, he can be bought again.”

Megan frowned; Snooks wasn't saying the right things. “Mr. Ziegler,” she interrupted, “what will happen to Dillon Laboratories stock prices if what Sperling did is made public?”

“They'll drop. Slightly. Not enough to do Glickman any good. One sour apple in a firm the size of Dillon won't sink the ship,” Ziegler said, mixing metaphors with indifference.

“But that's my point,” Megan persisted. “You know Sperling, don't you? What kind of man is he? Would he have initiated something like this on his own?”

Ziegler leaned back in his chair, one finger across his lips. Thinking.

“No,” Payton said unexpectedly. “He's too careful.”

Ziegler sent him a look of faint surprise. “I didn't know you knew him.”

“We were both with Upjohn at the same time, nine or ten years ago. He might have thought it up on his own, but he wouldn't have taken a unilateral risk. He'd have gone to the president or the board chairman first.”

“So?” Megan asked. “Is he the kind of man who'd talk to save his own neck?”

Ziegler and Payton exchanged a look, and nodded in unison. “He is,” Ziegler said. “And if hypnotizing you was a
corporate
decision, Dillon shares will plummet. Especially if we can get a conviction.”

“Also, we shouldn't overlook the publicity value,” Megan said. “What better way to demonstrate the value of Lipan than to show a competitor committing criminal acts to stop our distribution?”

Ziegler waved a hand dismissively; that was the first thing he'd thought of.

“I think Dr. Snooks is right,” Megan pressed on. “Making this whole thing public is the best weapon we can use against them.”

Snooks raised an eyebrow; she hadn't said that. Oh well—Megan seemed to know what she was doing.

Ziegler had one reservation. “That's all very well and good,
if
we can bring it off.” He turned to Payton. “Do we have a way of interesting the police without giving them the tape?”

The attorney had been thinking. “I could have a word with Margaret Wallace in the District Attorney's office. She could order an investigation—I don't know how thorough it'd be, though.”

Snooks sighed. “Same old problem. How are the police going to get any evidence?”

“Through interrogation, probably,” Payton said. “They've got three people to work on, remember. Sperling, Algren, and the driver—Ferris? It's not likely they'll find anyone at this late date who'll remember seeing any of the three with Ms Phillips, but they might be able to locate the Sewickley apartment where she was taken. There'll be fingerprints, other signs—”

“Too iffy,” Ziegler said. “If we go public on this, I'd like to have something more to go on than just the chance that the police might find something. Not the tape, of course. But something.”

Payton was shaking his head. “Don't know what it could be. There isn't anything. We're going to have to depend on regular police procedure.”

“No, we don't,” Gus said unexpectedly. “There's something we can do.”

Four heads swiveled toward him. Snooks said, “Gus, you were always the one who wanted to call the police.”

“I mean there's something we can do
with
the police.” Gus sounded froggy; he stopped to clear his throat. “I don't think there's any way to prove what they did to Megan or why. But if we could trick them into doing it again—and then catch them in the act—”

“What are you talking about, Gus?” Megan asked.

“Well, look. Right now Harrison Algren is at home sound asleep. When he wakes up in a few hours, he's going to have a bad headache—but he won't have any memory of what happened last night. As far as he knows, Megan is still programmed to respond to his instructions. So say the next time he calls her to reinforce the hypnotic suggestion, she doesn't respond the way she's supposed to. What would Algren and Sperling do then?”

It was Ziegler who answered. “Start all over?
Re
hypnotize her …”

“Now, wait a minute!” Megan protested. “You want to use me as bait? Make me go through all that
again?
”

“Not all of it, Megan,” Gus said. “Just enough for the police to get their evidence.”

“Well.” She looked at him indignantly. “Thanks a lot, friend.”

“Aw, Megan.”

Payton said, “You know, it might work. It just might. You'd probably have to go to Sewickley with them—if they take you to the same place. But once you're there—”

“You're pretty damned cavalier about sending me back into that nest of hornets!” Megan protested. “Do you realize what you're asking me to do? I'll have to let that ghoul inject me with a drug and hypnotize me, and then Snooks will have to hypnotize
him
to deprogram
me
again, and—”

“That may not be necessary, Megan,” Snooks said. “There's another way. Remember the law of temporal precedence? When two contradictory hypnotic suggestions are given, the one that's given
first
is the one that's obeyed. I can give you a posthypnotic suggestion to resist all suggestions made to you by Harrison Algren—it'll act as a kind of block.”

The other four were all staring at her. Then Gus laughed and leaned over and patted her on the shoulder.

“Will it really work?” Megan demanded.

“I can't guarantee it, of course, but it should work.”

“But the drug, Snooks—he used a drug on me.”

“I can use the same one. Algren said he used sodium pentothal—stop making faces, Megan, it won't hurt you. I'll take you down as deeply as I can. I'm about as sure as I can be that you'll be able to resist everything he tells you.”

Megan looked so miserable that Gus decided she needed a pat on the shoulder too. “You won't have to go through the whole weekend again, Megan. It won't be like the last time.”

“It's a terrible thing to ask of you, Ms Phillips,” Ziegler said. “If you can't bring yourself to do it, no one is going to force you.” He did not say the next sentence, the one that started with
But
.

Megan looked at him and thought:
Vice President of Marketing and Distribution
. Hell. Hell and damnation. “All right,” she sighed. “I'll do it.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “You can be sure the board will learn of your contribution.” Ziegler turned to Payton. “Your contact in the District Attorney's office—will she go for the plan?”

Payton grinned broadly. “She'll eat it up.”

“You're sure,” Megan said to Snooks.

“Pretty sure,” Snooks answered.

Payton had some instructions for Megan. “Don't answer the phone until Sunday night. We don't want them coming after you at home. If he calls Sunday night, give wrong answers—they won't be able to do anything until the next day. The police will have a better case if Algren kidnaps you out of Glickman's offices instead of your home. Monday will be the earliest—that'll give the police time to get set up.”

Once the decision was made, all five of them simultaneously became aware of the lateness of the hour and their own fatigue. Megan and Snooks and Gus stood to go, but Ziegler wouldn't let them escape without the obligatory stroking.

“Megan, I have to tell you I'm impressed by the way you've handled this whole frightening affair,” he said. “Impressed but not surprised—I've felt all along you'd be good in a crisis.”

So it was Megan now instead of Ms Phillips
. “Thank you, Sid.”

Snooks was next. “Dr. Snooks, without your expertise we'd never have learned the truth of this matter. You'll find we're not ungrateful. By the way, have you ever considered doing psychiatric consulting work for industry?”

“I have indeed.”

“Perhaps we can talk when this is over?”

“I'm in the book.”

Gus shifted his weight nervously and cast a longing glance at the door. His turn.

“Mr. Bilinski, what can I say? Your resourcefulness and perseverance are astonishing—qualities we admire here at Glickman. We're always on the lookout for bright young men like you. How would you like to come work for us?”

Gus mumbled something unintelligible and started backing out through the door.

When Gus had completed his backward exit, Ziegler looked at Megan. “No?”

She smiled. “Let me try later.”

Sunday night Megan's phone rang. “Hello?”

“Full fathom five thy father lies.”

“What?”

A pause. “Full fathom five thy father lies.”

“Who is this?”

Click.

Megan smiled at the receiver. “Wrong number.” She depressed the plunger, lifted her finger and dialed.

“Ziegler.”

“It's on,” she said.

Monday was supposed to be a normal workday; Megan was supposed to go about her usual duties as if nothing were happening. But she was so tense she suspected that everyone who spoke to her that day must have known something was in the wind. If they did, they gave no sign. Either she appeared tense all the time or the majority of people were astonishingly unnoticing.

“They may not make their move today,” Sergeant Church had told her. “But we have to prepare as if they will.”

After a few hours' sleep Saturday morning, Megan had spent the rest of the day and most of Sunday talking to the police. The Assistant District Attorney Payton had gone to with the story had, as he'd predicted, eaten it up. Megan wondered if he'd told her in confidence about the tape (which Snooks had taken with her when she left Sid Ziegler's office). But whatever Payton had done to convince her, the Assistant D.A. had moved immediately.

“They may wait until the weekend,” Sergeant Church said. “Or if they take you today when you leave work, their plan may be to have you call in sick for the next couple of days.”

The police had not liked the plan. In fact, they'd hated it. They didn't mind using one of their own as a decoy under certain circumstances, but working with a civilian clearly made them unhappy. Bad prior experiences? Megan did not feel reassured.

Only Sergeant Church and a policewoman were at Glickman, both wearing visitor badges and pretending to be there on company business. Sid Ziegler had invented an errand that would keep Bogert at Bethel Park all day, at Sergeant Church's insistence. They didn't want even the security chief knowing what was going on; if anyone could sniff out trouble in the making, it was Bogert. No uniformed police were in sight, not even outside the building.

Under hypnosis Algren had identified one of Glickman's product managers, a man named James Daugherty, as being secretly on Dillon Laboratories' payroll. The police thought he must be the one who made sure the elevator came up empty when Algren was waiting for Megan. He must also have been the one who arranged for Algren to be there in the first place, by notifying the reception desk that Algren was coming in as a consultant or some such. (Bogert's security precautions weren't foolproof after all.) Neither Sergeant Church nor the policewoman was keeping an eye on Daugherty, unwilling to risk rousing his suspicions. Daugherty would be allowed to play out his role in this little drama. Then they'd nab him.