"Get his information out of him in less time than the police will need."
"I think an excuse could be manufactured," said Yamamura dreamily. "If
not for a whole twenty-four hours, for twelve or so. This reminds me of
my days in OSS. Okay, I'll risk it."
"Good," said Kintyre. "Then follow my lead."
"Better explain--"
Kintyre was already in the bathroom, looking down at the man on the
floor. O'Hearn had a long nose and not much chin. "Who hired you,
Jimmy?" said Kintyre.
Hatred glared back at him. "Tough, aren't you?" said O'Hearn. "Big
deal."
"I asked who hired you," said Kintyre.
He saw the growth of fear. "Look, I don't know," said O'Hearn. "And if
I spilled anything, anything at all, they'd find out."
"And kill you. I've heard that line before." Kintyre shrugged. "You are
going to tell me. Think about it while I make ready."
He took Yamamura out into the yard, toward the house. "My landlord
left some extra keys with me, just in case," he said. "We'll borrow a
soundproof room."
"Hey!" Yamamura stopped. "I told you, bodily harm is out."
"I've no such intention." Kintyre led him into the house and down to
its basement. "We'll use the rumpus room. It has a pool table we can
tie him to. The process seems to work best when the victim lies supine.
I admit he might get a little stiff from the hard surface."
Yamamura grabbed his shoulder. "What the blue hell are you talking
about?" he growled.
"They're just now beginning to study the mental effects of eliminating
sensory stimuli," said Kintyre. "The mind goes out of whack amazingly
fast. My friend Levinson, in the physiology department, was telling me
about some recent experiments. Volunteers, intelligent self-controlled
people who knew what it's all about and knew they could quit any time
they wanted--none of which applies to O'Hearn--didn't last long.
Hallucinations set in. Of course, we may have to mop up certain messes
afterward."
"Do I understand you rightly?"
"I suppose so. The only thing we're going to do to O'Hearn is tie him
down, flat on his back, blindfolded."
* * * * *
They would have to stand watch and watch outside the door. Kintyre
took the first one, though he didn't expect a reaction soon. (On the
other hand, an hour can stretch most hideously when you are alone
in soundless dark, not even able to move.) He pulled up a chair and
opened a book, but didn't read it. Nor did he listen to the defiant
obscenities which came very faintly through the panels. Mostly he sat
in a wordless half sleep.
_Corinna_, he thought. And then, later: _I'm being infantile. It
doesn't mean a thing, except that I've been celibate too long
and by sheer chance she pushes a few buttons in me. It could not
last--consider the difference in faith alone--and she would be hurt._
_How do I know it wouldn't, even to the altar? (For surely it would
last always, having taken us that far.)_
_I don't know. I suppose I'm being cowardly in not finding out._
Then again, long afterward: _This couldn't be hurried in any event.
We'd both go slowly, her loss is still so new. There'd be ample
time for me to escape, before the pleasure of her presence became a
necessity._