Sleep evaded Martin Black again that night.... There was no doubt that
Lawrence had a great idea.
Lawrence held forty-five percent of the company's stock. He wanted
control. In fact, he wanted outright ownership, but this was not
possible because the other major stockholders, holding forty-five
percent, seemed to be perfectly satisfied with their lucrative
investment. Cautious inquiries had failed to disclose any inclination
on their respective parts to sell.
There were, however, enough independent shares outstanding to give
Lawrence control if they were added to his own. The thing to do was to
figure a way to buy them. The problem was that no matter how secret
his operations, news or rumors of them would certainly leak out. The
shares would then undoubtedly jump to outrageous highs. Lawrence
couldn't risk that. He'd not be able to buy sufficient shares if the
price rose.
His corporation had completed Quijotoa City and had built Mojave City
and Sanup Plateau City, had through applied atomics created verdant
and lovely places out of wasteland and desert. It still owned the
atomic piles that provided power for the cities and the profits
therefrom were enormous.
Lawrence was progressive. He was at heart a humanitarian. He wanted to
develop other areas more from the humanitarian view than the profit
motive. He had learned long ago that the profits would take care of
themselves.
In probing the man's mind, Black sensed Lawrence's great desire for
adulation, his great desire to be remembered as a public benefactor.
Now if only he, Martin J. Black, could benefit financially from this
new deal--if he could corner enough of those independent shares, he
could and certainly would vote them Lawrence's way. Then, perhaps the
possibility of making the thirty percent he needed would approach
probability, would reach it. With Lawrence's Midas touch the
corporation would also realize millions in profits if the deal went
through.
Figures revolved in Black's mind. If Lawrence--or if he--could corner
six percent of the stock.... Could some of the independents be
persuaded to sell, _psionically persuaded_? Or one of the other major
stockholders? No, that would be unethical and the strongest part of a
psi's training was a fine code of ethics.
Black began to doze--and felt something ever so softly probing at his
mind. _A probe!_ Probably a service psi checking on him. _Why?_ Just
the usual check? No, it wasn't due.
He knew what to do. He had been probed before. Probing was part of the
training at psi school but he had never revealed--and his tutors had
never guessed--that he could create a block that could not be sensed
by the prober. A block which could close off whatever thoughts he
wished to conceal.
He blocked his thoughts of Lawrence and the deal now, and opened
freely that part of his mind which held the routine thoughts of the
law offices. He felt that feather of thought brushing lightly through
his brain, then it was gone as quickly as it had come.
There was a cold sweat over him but he knew that he had passed the
test. Why the probe? Perhaps a BEB psi had wind of Lawrence's deal and
by probing Lawrence's mind--or the mind of someone in the West Coast
realty outfit--had somehow learned of Black's association with the
industrialist. If that were the case there would be more probes. One
time or another a probe might come at a moment of nervous tension or
stress and the information would be gleaned from his mind before he
could block!
He must work fast.
He arose and went to the visiphone, placed a person-to-person call to
Los Angeles.
"Dick Joyce?" he asked before the visual contact was complete, and
only his voice went out.
The face that came in sync on the screen was round, jovial. "Well,
hello, Marty!"
_Lawrence must have called him, or else he plucked the name from my
mind. But he didn't probe--or did he?_
"Dick, do you register?" _With the mind now--cautiously!_
"Yes, Marty."
_Pretend you're my personal friend, Dick. There's no psi on us but we
may be wiretapped by BEB--lots of law offices are and trainees
connected with them. Can a definite date be set for the picking-up of
the options?_
"It's good to see you again, Marty! When will you be coming out for
another visit?" _Yes, the options are in the bag. My agents have them
all lined up. Confidentially, they couldn't miss. The only trouble
they ran into was that some of the landowners thought they were insane
to be interested in the property and one of them actually suffered a
sprained wrist from the hand-shaking of an overly thankful owner._
"Soon. That's why I called you. Thought we should get together after
all these years." _What's the latest date for signing?_
_Tomorrow night._
_Tomorrow night! That doesn't give much time! Since I'm acting for
Lawrence I have to see what we're getting._
_Well, Lawrence told us to work fast. But I agree that it's a good
idea that you see the properties._ "How about this weekend?" His voice
was casual.
_Tomorrow evening local time it is then. But where will we make
psi-contact?_
A mental picture of a map. Desolation.... Oklahoma....
"Okay, Dick. See you then. Regards to the family!"
"Goodbye, Marty."
He rang off.
He was tired. He went to bed and sought sleep, praying that the block
his fatigued mind had set would remain firm.