Hell House
Page 2"But a mental medium," said Barrett.
" - and I want that line of approach employed, as well as yours," Deutsch went on, as though Barrett hadn't spoken.
"Fischer's presence is obvious."
Barrett nodded. There was no way out of it, he saw. He'd have to bring up one of his own people after the project was under way. "As to costs - " he started.
The old man waved him off. "Take that up with Hanley. You have unlimited funds."
"And time?"
"That you don't have," Deutsch replied. "I want the answer in a week."
Barrett looked appalled.
"Take it or leave it!" the old man snapped, sudden, naked rage in his expression. Barrett knew he had to accede or lose the opportunity - and there was a chance if he could get his machine constructed in time.
He nodded once. "A week," he said.
3:50 P.M.
Anything else?" asked Hanley.
"One more item," he said. He tried to sound casual but felt that his excitement showed. "I need a machine. I have the blueprints for it at my apartment."
"How soon will you need it?" Hanley asked.
"As soon as possible."
"Is it large?"
Twelve years, Barrett thought. "Quite large," he said.
"That's it?"
"All I can think of at the moment. I haven't mentioned living facilities, of course."
"Enough rooms have been renovated for your use. A couple from Caribou Falls will prepare and deliver your meals." Hanley seemed about to smile. "They've refused to sleep in the house."
Barrett stood. "It's just as well. They'd only be in the way."
Hanley walked him toward the library door. Before they reached it, it was opened sharply by a stout man, who glared at Barrett. Although he was forty years younger and a hundred pounds heavier, William Reinhardt Deutsch bore an unmistakable resemblance to his father.
He shut the door. "I'm warning you right now," he said, "I'm going to block this thing."
"The truth," Deutsch said. "This is a waste of time, isn't it? Put it in writing, and I'll make you out a check for a thousand dollars right now."
Barrett tightened. "I'm afraid - "
"There's no such thing as the supernatural, is there?" Deutsch's neck was reddening.
"Correct," said Barrett. Deutsch began to smile in triumph. "The word is ' supernormal.' Nature cannot be transcen - "
"What the hell's the difference?" interrupted Deutsch. "It's superstition, all of it!"
"I'm sorry, but it isn't." Barrett started past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
Deutsch caught his arm. "Now, look, you better drop this thing. I'll see you never get that money - "
Barrett pulled his arm free. "Do what you will," he said. "I'll proceed until I hear otherwise from your father."
He closed the door and started down the corridor. In light of present knowledge, his mind addressed Deutsch, anyone who chooses to refer to psychic phenomena as superstition simply isn't aware of what's going on in the world. The documentation is immense -
Barrett stopped and leaned against the wall. His leg was starting to ache again. For the first time, he allowed himself to recognize what a strain on his condition it might be to spend a week in the Belasco house.
What if it was really as bad as the two accounts claimed it was?
The Rolls-Royce sped along the hi ghway toward Manhattan.
"That's an awful lot of money." Edith still sounded incredulous.
"Not to him," said Barrett. "Especially when you consider that what he's paying for is an assurance of immortality."
"But he must know that you don't believe - "
"I'm sure he does," Barrett interrupted. He didn't want to consider the possibility that Deutsch hadn't been told. "He's not the sort of man who goes into anything without being totally informed."
"But a hundred thousand dollars."
Barrett smiled. "I can scarcely believe it myself," he said. "If I were like my mother, I'd undoubtedly consider this a miracle from God. The two things I've failed to accomplish both supplied at once - an opportunity to prove my theory, and provision for our later years. Really, I could ask no more."
Edith returned his smile. "I'm happy for you, Lionel," she said.