Jeff raised his eyes to the doctor's face. His throat felt like
sandpaper. He tried to swallow and couldn't. "Sorry," he grated. "I've
changed my mind. I'm not talking business."
Dr. Schiml smiled, his head slowly moving back and forth. "I hear
you're quite handy at the dice, Jeff."
Jeff jumped out of the chair, fists clenched, eyes blazing at the girl.
"You bitch," he snarled. "You two-bit tramp stoolie. You'd sell your
grandmother short for a bag of salt, wouldn't you? Come to me with
your sob stories, beg me to move out of here with you." His voice was
biting. "How much did they pay you to sell out? A hundred thousand,
maybe? Or was this just a little routine affair? Maybe a thousand or
two?"
The girl's face darkened, her eyes bewildered as she stared at him.
"No, that's not true. I didn't--"
"Well, it won't do them any good, no matter how much they paid you.
Because I'm not signing a release, now or ever."
A guard grabbed Jeff's arm, forcing him back into the chair.
Dr. Schiml still smiled, clasping his knee with his hands. "I guess you
didn't quite understand me," he said pleasantly. "You mustn't blame
Blackie. She didn't sell you short. She just couldn't help answering a
few perfectly innocent questions." His eyes returned to Jeff, coldly.
"We're not asking you to sign a release, Jeff. We're telling you."
Jeff stared at him in amazement. "Don't be silly," he blurted. "I'm not
signing a release to you people. Do you think I'm out of my mind? Take
it away, burn it and get yourself another guinea pig."
Dr. Schiml smiled quietly and shook his head. "We don't want another
guinea pig, Jeff. That's just it. We want you."
A little line of sweat broke out on Jeff's forehead. "Look," he said
hoarsely. "I'm not signing anything, do you understand? I've changed my
mind. I don't care for the work here. I don't like the company."
Schiml's smile faded. He shrugged and tucked the white paper back into
his white coat. "Just as you wish," he said. "The release is just a
formality. Bring him along, boys."
"Wait!" Jeff was on his feet again, facing the guards, his eyes wide
with fright. His eyes caught Schiml's. "Look, you've got things wrong.
I'm a fake in here, a fraud. Can't you understand that? I didn't come
in here to volunteer. I never intended to volunteer, never planned to
go even as far as I did. I came here--"
Schiml made an impatient face and held up a hand. "Oh, yes, yes, I know
all that. You came into this place because you'd followed a man in here
and you wanted to kill him. You'd been hunting him for years, because
you thought he murdered your father in cold blood and nothing would do
but you kill him. Right?" Schiml blinked at Jeff, his voice heavy with
boredom. "So you came in here and went through testing, hunting down
your man, trying to find him. But you _didn't_ find him. Now things
have suddenly become too hot for your liking, so you figure that it's
time to pull out. Right? Or are some of the details wrong?"